John Schettler - Devil's Garden

“Our present course and speed keeps the range at 25,000 meters in fifteen minutes, sir,” said Rodenko. “After that we should easily shake them off.”

“Well within range of our AK-152s. Very well, activate our forward turret. 152mm battery, please.”

Samsonov was quick to oblige and reported guns ready. As before, the Captain summoned Chekov to assist Nikolin and they began to send wireless Morse. Karpov’s first message was blunt and to the point. He identified himself as the battlecruiser Kirov of the Imperial Russian Navy, and ordered the Japanese ships to stand down and return to port. The Japanese message was equally blunt.

“Sir, they require us to reduce speed and prepare to be boarded for inspection. They say they are hunting a ship responsible for the sinking of the steamer Tatsu Maru .”

“Is that so? Well tell them we are the ship responsible, and as to their request for us to reduce speed, it has been denied. They will break off and return to port.”

Rodenko folded his arms, inwardly shaking his head. Things were developing just as he expected. The Captain knew exactly how to aggravate his foe and force an action here. He wanted to engage these ships, and this was no more than a thin veneer of civility on the violence that would soon ensue.

“Sir,” he suggested. “They cannot catch us on this heading. We can easily outrun them.”

“We are not here to run from these ships, Mister Rodenko. Helm, come left fifteen degrees to 255 and steady at 30 knots.”

“Sir, coming left to 255 and steady on.”

“That is better. We turn to face our foe, Captain Lieutenant. We do not run from the enemy. We are here to teach them to run from us, if they can. Mister Chekov, tell them they have five minutes to reverse course or they will be presumed hostile and fired upon.”

They waited briefly, but the only response they received was a speed change from 18 to 20 knots and a slight course adjustment. Then a final message came and Chekov translated. “You have failed to comply and we will engage you.”

Karpov smiled. “Threatening us, are they? I suppose the range is a bit far for them to see this ship is twice the length and displacement of the largest battleship in their navy! No matter. What is the current range?”

“Sir, radar has the column at 32,900 meters and as we are now on converging courses, the range is closing.”

“Samsonov. Let’s send them a more direct message. Target the lead ship. Their commanding officers were fond of leading the charge in this era from what I have read. We’ll make an example of his ship first.”

“Sir, I have radar lock on the lead ship in the formation.” Karpov walked slowly to the Captain’s chair and did something he seldom ever did at the edge of combat. He sat down. Nine times out of ten he would be at the view screen with his field glasses. But now he sat, almost casually on the rotating chair, elbow on the arm rest and hand stroking his chin.

“You may open fire with the forward battery. Three salvos, please.”

Rodenko watched the computer controlled turret rotate smartly with a low whir, the guns elevated at just the precise angle required to put rounds on the target, which was now painted with powerful targeting radars. The sharp report and swift recoil of the twin battery snapped the silence on the bridge with three sharp cracks that sent six rounds at the enemy.

Minutes later two would strike the forward deck of Izumo , penetrating the relatively thin 2.6 inch armor there and exploding below decks. A single 12 pounder gun on the bow was put out of action, its crew killed almost instantly. Two more riddled its big 8 inch turret, smashing the side armor there, and the last two struck the conning tower, causing considerable smoke and explosive shock, but failing to penetrate the thick 14 inch armor protection. It was enough to jar the ship, as if Karpov had given the Japanese a rude shove at the outset of an argument. Smoke from the fire caused by the two rounds exploding below decks soon billowed up, adding to the dark stain in the sky from the coal fired ships that were laboring to pursue them.

It had begun.

Thetranslucent sheen in the air quavered and slowly faded away. The sky brightened to azure blue and Fedorov looked up to see a flight of puffy white clouds overhead where there had once been low, slate grey skies. It was the first clue that they had again displaced in time, and he immediately raised his field glasses, scanning the seas around him. Oddly enough, the Soviet trawler that had been passing by was still off their starboard side, as if nothing had happened. Had Rod-25 failed?

Then he considered the darker prospect-that the control rod had again worked its magic, only the radius of its influence was greater than they expected. It may have moved that trawler right along with us, he thought. It was one problem on top of another!

They had searched the entire facility, every hovercraft, every AFV and the helo as well, but there was absolutely no sign of Orlov. Fedorov asked Dobrynin to halt his rod maintenance procedure but it could not be done. They had already dipped the rod, and extraction was underway. If there were to be any effects then nothing more could be done to prevent them. Soon after, they saw the telltale signs in the air around them, the strange smell of ozone, the unaccountable chill, and now these effects had finally dissipated.

“Captain Malkin, we need to get a detachment of Marines over to that trawler at once. Use a swift boat and cover them with a good machine gun or two.”

“Shall I send Sergeant Troyak, sir?”

“Send Zykov. He’s been moping over losing Orlov, so it might do him some good.”

“You haven’t exactly been cheery since we got the news he was missing,” said Malkin.

“It was a hard blow, Captain. I came all the way from Vladivostok in the year 2021 to get here and find that man. To have him in custody and lose him at the last minute like that was hard to bear.”

“I understand, sir”

But Fedorov did not have to wait long for good news. Zykov was soon on the short range communications system through his service jacket and reporting something that brightened Fedorov’s mood considerably.

“Well I’ll be a donkey’s ass, Colonel! I have Orlov here on this damn Soviet trawler! He’s with two other men in NKVD trench coats, but they have on khaki uniforms beneath. I think they are British soldiers! They looked as though they were going to put up a fight, but the 50 caliber machine gun convinced them that would be most unwise.”

“British?” Now Fedorov was completely stumped. What would British soldiers be doing in a Soviet trawler on the Caspian Sea? How did Orlov get there? He gave orders for Zykov to lead the trawler over to the Anatoly Alexandrov at once, and rushed to the communications room.

“Have we raised anyone on shore yet?”

“No, sir. We’ve been sending standard hails to the naval facility at Kaspiysk, but we get no answer.”