John Schettler - Paradox Hour

He smiled, his thin lips tight as he gloated inwardly at his victory. Now to make that victory complete. Now to get up north to those last few ships and finish them off before Volkov could get to one and escape. Three at good elevation… That will mean they are standing on overwatch, while that fourth ship goes to ground to lower a cargo basket and haul up Volkov’s sorry ass. If I try to descend to get that fourth ship, the other three will all be well above me, and Abakan will not have the guns to hold them off. So I must send Abakan down after Volkov. It’s the only way. Only Tunguska has the firepower to stand with their top cover. Yes, I hate to hand off this task to Abakan . I’d much rather be the one to get down there after Volkov, but tactics first.

“Signal Abakan ,” he said calmly. “Tell them they are to bear on that enemy contact, but begin a gradual descent. They are to look for any enemy ship near ground level, and destroy it. We will hold elevation at 5000 meters. After that, get word to Tyrenkov on the ground. Tell him I want a flying column assembled as soon as possible. Get them north to the coordinates of that contact. As to our remaining ships. They are to make for Ilanskiy, and stand on overwatch there. One ship may descend for ground support fires, but only one. I want at least two of the three ships up at 4000 meters, preferably Irkutsk and Novosibirsk , if they ever get here.”

Those last two ships were both good battleships, 16-guns, and in the same basic size class as old Big Red. They were aging, but still had the firepower for a good fight. Once they arrived, Karpov knew he would have complete air superiority here. Yes, there were still twelve more airships in Volkov’s fleet, and two others that were detached after that first fight with Yakutsk . But many of those ships will be far away, some as far south as the Caucasus where Sergei Kirov’s troops were struggling with Volkov’s 6th Army. So in Karpov’s mind, the situation was looking very good here, very good indeed. He had a firm rein on things now, and was convinced that final victory was also within his grasp.

Yet he did not have command of all the facts. Those two ships that had been detached because of damage sustained in that first fleet battle had returned— Pavlodar and Talgar —and with them was yet a third ship, another 8-gun heavy cruiser, the Krasnodar . Of the three, the best of the lot was Pavlodar , a 160 cubic meter lift battlecruiser with twelve guns. And Ivan Volkov was not heading north to try and reach the four ships Karpov now had on his radar screens. Yes, the reports had been accurate. There were three ships on overwatch, and one at low elevation, the Armavir , but that was only because the ship had been fighting a bad tail fire suffered in that hot ambush when Tunguska had first come on the scene and nearly destroyed Admiral Zorki’s entire four ship division.

The grey skies and limited range of the radars had all conspired to hide the arrival of Pavlodar and Talgar to the west, where they had also brought in two much needed companies to reinforce Volkov’s ground force. As such, they were both at low elevation to land those troops, and not seen by the rudimentary Topaz radar systems.

Volkov, his devious mind still sharp enough to read the situation, knew he would be a fool to try and reach the airships to the north. The land was broken with stands of trees, and occasional marshy clearings, and he would never get his motorbikes through all that in any good time. But he would get west on the good road to Kansk where Pavlodar was still hovering low, if the Siberian Tartars did not get him first.

Volkovlooked up to see the massive shape of Tunkuska high above, a dark blight in the skies, slowly swallowed by the thickening clouds.

I have one great advantage, he thought. I can see that bastard easily enough when he’s up there lording about in that monstrosity, but the inverse is not true. He knows I may be down here—at least he must assume as much. Now he’ll be trying to read my mind, and he knows I’ll want to get airborne again as soon as possible. In that he will be correct. I cannot take the chance of lingering here like a common soldier. I can see now that the decision to detach Pavlodar and Talgar was premature. I was overconfident, too brash, and I underestimated that son-of-a-bitch Karpov yet again. Now there is no further room for error.

He looked west, along the road to Kansk where the situation on the ground still remained very confused. Some of his men had landed there earlier, thinking to surprise the enemy at Kansk and quickly seize that town. There they were to have set up a blocking position to stop any rail traffic from the Ob River line front from reaching Ilanskiy. But the situation in the main battle had compelled Colonel Levkin to recall those troops, leaving only his motorcycle platoon astride the road as a rear guard. They had been surprised by squadrons of Karpov’s Siberian Tartar cavalry, and those who could, fled east along the road.

All this was happenstance, thought Volkov. All of it—Kymchek’s failure to read the enemy strength on the ground, the cavalry ambush that sent those motor bikes to me here, and now that decision to detach those two airships pays me an unexpected dividend! So I head west, right down this road. I should find two companies up ahead, and Pavlodar waiting for me at ground level. No sense wasting any further time here. I must get to that airship!

“Sergeant! Lead the way!”

There were no more than twelve men left from the Motorcycle Platoon, but they would have to do. It seemed a feeble escort for the General Secretary of the Orenburg Federation at that moment, and the noisome bikes would be easily heard by any Tartars still lurking in the woodlands flanking the road ahead. This was going to be very dangerous, perhaps the most dangerous thing Volkov had done in many years. A man in his early sixties, he was still fit, and his mind was as sharp as ever. Now the thrill of danger seemed to catalyze him, and his eyes gleamed as the column started off.

Sergeant Beckov led the way, with three bike-mounted troopers. Then came the only sidecar bike in the squad, where a gunner was manning a DT-28 ‘record player’ machinegun. Behind this went Volkov, flanked by a man on either side, with the last section of four men following. The motor bikes were quick and very agile, and easy to ride on the good road surface. They roared off, leaving a thin trail of dust behind them, and Volkov glanced up warily, thinking he might see the dark shadow of Tunguska looming above him at any moment.

It was only his fear whispering to him. That airship was far too high to spot him here on the ground, and the heavy cloud cover was providing a good cloak against observation from the air. They sped down the road, until Sergeant Beckov raised his right arm, fist clenched, bringing the column to a halt. He looked over his shoulder, shouting back to Volkov.

“Cavalry up ahead. Not many, but they are blocking the road.”

“Well don’t just sit there, Sergeant. Clear them off!”

Beckov waved at the MG mounted sidecar, wanting it to come forward, and then gathered together five men with SMGs to make his attack. They gunned their engines, speeding forward in a mad charge, firing as they went. There he saw that they were greatly outnumbered, as there had to be at least twenty Tartars up ahead all wearing black overcoats and heavy woolen Ushankas. His squad engaged, their sub-machineguns spitting fire at the enemy, and the DT-28 hacking away from the sidecar. The horsemen had not expected this bold attack from the same men they had recently sent fleeing east on this road, and they were surprised.