John Schettler - Kirov

“I don't like it, sir,” said Orlov. “I believe the Admiral thought to simply run past them to the south. Fedorov doesn't think they can catch us or get within range. But we should maintain good speed.”

Fedorov looked over his shoulder warily at the Captain, a worried look on his face. He had assured Admiral Volsky that if they kept on this heading they would be able to outmaneuver the British battleships when they cleared the Cape of Greenland, keeping well outside their firing range.

“Yes, they are dangerously close even now, in my opinion. And look at these other contacts to the northeast. The British persist, they will have to be taught a lesson. We are not to be trifled with.”

“Con, radar airborne contact bearing twenty-two degrees northeast. I read three, now six contacts dispersing on a line approximately 170 kilometers north of us, incoming at speed 180kph.”

The Captain leaned on the arm of his chair, swiveling toward Rodenko as he did so. “Well, well, well,“ he said. “It appears the British did not pay attention in class yesterday. We may have to repeat the lesson, yes?”

“But only six planes,” said Orlov. “Nothing to really worry about.”

“Who knows what is behind those six?” said Karpov. “I will tell you one thing, there is a carrier behind them. Two carriers, am I not correct, Mister Fedorov?”

“Yes sir,” said the navigator. “We believe Victorious and Furious are still in that task force shadowing us.”

“Very well. Those ships could have taken on fresh squadrons from Iceland by now. Mister Orlov, bring the ship to condition three readiness. Speed 30 knots.”

“Aye sir.” Orlov went to a panel and sounded the alert, sending the crew to condition three, one state below full battle readiness. “The ship is at 30 knots,” he confirmed.

“But sir,” said Fedorov, “those are most likely radar pickets. There were no torpedo strike aircraft on Iceland. We’ve been jamming their radars and they are probably trying to get a wide-angle look at us on a broader front. We decimated their strike planes yesterday. Those are probably nothing more than Fulmar fighters equipped with type 279 radar. Rodenko has recalibrated his equipment and-”

“Thank you, Mister Fedorov,” said Karpov, a touch of annoyance in his voice. “Yet I read in your own book that the Americans delivered a squadron of P-40 fighters to Iceland, yes?”

“Correct, sir, but those planes have not even arrived yet-” Fedorov suddenly realized what the Captain had said. “Which book are you referring to, sir?”

“Your Chronology of the War at Sea. The Admiral was good enough to share it with me, even if you were not.” Karpov covered his tracks a bit with the easy lie, though he realized he might be making a mistake here. He decided to sound out the young Lieutenant a bit and see if he could be useful.

“What do you think about this secret meeting at sea, Fedorov, this Atlantic Charter?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me, sir.”

“Don’t be stupid, Fedorov. Don’t you see a fish on the hook when it’s right in front of you? This is an opportunity, is it not?”

“An opportunity for what, sir?”

“You heard the Admiral earlier. These men gathering for this meeting, they are the chief officers and leaders of the entire allied war effort. Think of it, Fedorov, what would have happened if the Germans rolled into Moscow and found old Stalin napping with all his major generals and field marshals as well? Wouldn’t that have been a prize?”

“I suppose it would, sir.”

“Then this situation is very interesting, yes?” The Captain glanced at Orlov as well. “ I think this is what the Admiral has been stewing about, what to do about it.” He looked at Fedorov again. “What would you do about it, Lieutenant?”

Fedorov hesitated, nodding his head to one side. “Well… I’m not sure what the Admiral is considering, sir, but I would steer well clear of this area, and get safely out into the Atlantic.”

Karpov raised his brows, eyes narrowing. It was what he expected. Fedorov had no stomach for the business at hand. He was another weak sister, just like Zolkin. His fawning over the Admiral was nothing to worry about, but he decided to press the Lieutenant further.

“You would go out into the Atlantic? Why, Fedorov?”

Fedorov was beginning to feel a bit manipulated. He had learned enough about Karpov to be very wary of the man, and he wondered why he would ask him these questions when all he had ever received from the Captain before was a veiled disdain.

“This is a dangerous situation, sir,” Fedorov began. “With the President and Prime Minister at sea, the Americans and British will be very wary until they are both safely at their destinations. They already know about us-or at least they think that the Germans have another raider running the Denmark Strait, and that means they will be doubly on guard now. They know we are not the Tirpitz if they’ve bothered to check their intelligence and overfly Kiel. In that instance they know we are not Admiral Sheer as well. But they are coming, sir, with everything they can make seaworthy. This is the worst possible time for a German raider to appear. If we turned east soon we might not seem so threatening, particularly if we vanish. They can’t spot us on radar now, not with Rodenko jamming them. They’ve managed to keep a hold on us because we’ve kept to this heading. They can calculate our farthest on based on our estimated speed, so they assume we must still be in this narrow channel. But I would turn east, and soon, to throw them off the scent and get well out into the Atlantic.”

“And if we persist on this heading?”

“Then we may have more trouble than we need, sir. The Americans are out there too, and in force. They have three battleships, at least seven cruisers, twice that in destroyers, and an aircraft carrier in their Atlantic Fleet at the moment, and all these ships are presently at sea, gathering for this conference, and for the second relief convoy bound for Iceland-that’s the one delivering those planes you mentioned, sir.”

Karpov considered all this, remembering what he had read in Fedorov’s book. The navigator had one thing correct, the situation ahead of them was, indeed, very dangerous. Ships were gathering from all compass headings, and all bound for this one place.

“These American ships, would they attack us?”

“I believe so, sir. The King doctrine is now in effect. The American Navy has authorization to engage any perceived threat, U-boat or surface raider, within a hundred miles of their ships.”

“I see… and where is this meeting to be held, Fedorov?”

“Argentia, Bay, sir, on the south cape of Newfoundland. We should get well away from this area, unless we want to end up fighting the whole Atlantic Fleet along with the British. The situation is very dangerous,” he repeated.

“This is a war, Fedorov, or haven’t you noticed. The British nearly put a torpedo into us not too long ago. That won’t happen again, but the point is, they have already decided the matter, haven’t they? Unless we run out into the Atlantic and hide, as you suggest, we’re going to run into these ships on this heading.”

“It’s not just that, sir,” said Fedorov, his eyes troubled now, and somewhat anxious. When he spoke of the Royal Navy, quoting the names of ships, talking about their speed and guns, he was completely in his element, a master of the information he was relating. But now he seemed to be feeling his way forward, unsure of what he was saying.

“We could change things…” he hesitated, then tried to finish his thought. “It’s like the Doctor said earlier, sir. Every plane we shoot down has a pilot and every ship we engage has a crew. These are not great men, I suppose. They are just like us, enlisted men and officers out to do their duty as best they can. But those that survive this war may have children, and that goes on into the future, all the way to our day and beyond. I can’t tell you that any of them might matter in our world, but some might. Everything we do here is having some effect on that history, and we cannot know what the outcome might be. As for Churchill and Roosevelt-these are great men; this we know. And should anything happen to them…” He did not quite know how to finish.