John Schettler - Kirov II - Cauldron of Fire

He paused, letting Nikolin catch up in his translation, but could see Tovey’s frustration, and the confusion that must surely be plaguing him. Yet he noted how the man composed himself, inclining his head and asking another question.

“Was your ship built by the Soviet Union? And are you telling me you are at sea without orders, and against the wishes of the Soviet government? You are a renegade ship out of the Black Sea?”

“Admiral…You know very well that Soviet Russia could not build a ship that can do what you have witnessed my vessel do in battle, at least not today. We have just fought a long night engagement with two of your battleships. What were they called Fedorov?”

“ Nelson and Rodney , sir.”

Volsky nodded, repeating the names as best he could. “ Nelson and Rodney . More a admirals. It was an unfortunate engagement, and one I hope we do not have to repeat. It was our intention to outrun these ships and avoid combat. At least that is what my young Captain here, who commanded that action, tells me. But your ships fought well. I will express my regret to you now for any loss of life, but to secure the safety of my own ship, this engagement became an unfortunate necessity. Suppose I were to tell you that my ship was built in Russia. Could you believe that? I do not think so. What ship in Stalin’s navy could stand with your Nelson and Rodney and come away from that battle unscathed? No. The Soviet government does not know that we even exist.”

“I see…” Tovey was silent for a moment, thinking. “These weapons you deploy…They are certainly beyond our own means for the moment, unlike anything we have ever seen. Oh, I must tell you that rocketry is as old as gunpowder, but yet you seem to have perfected the art in a manner that is… rather frightening, at least to the men who have faced your weapons, and died…”

“For that I am truly sorry. I will tell you that I, too, have put men into the sea that I would rather see standing at their posts this evening. What more can be said of that? I will weep for them in my own time.”

“Then do you serve a nation, Admiral? You are not German as we first thought; not Italian, not French as you wished us to believe. You clearly are Russian, but claim you bear no allegiance to the Soviet Union, our ally in this war at the moment, as I hope you must know.”

“At the moment,” said Volsky, thinking he had said just a little too much with that. “Admiral Tovey,” he settled his voice, intent on forcing some new line in the discussion. “None of this matters, and there is no point in discussing these details. We are here, you are there. This thin boundary separates us, this line between the ocean and the sea at our feet, and yet it is a gulf that may seem impossible for either of us to ever cross. Still we must try to do so as best we can.”

Tovey considered that, his eyes narrowed under his thin brows, lips taut. “I must tell you, Admiral, that I have brought my fleet here to make an end of your ship, and to put it at the bottom of the sea if I can do so. The oceans wide may appear to be the province of God, and God alone, but at this moment, as I stand here now before you, they are in point of fact the domain of the Royal Navy, and the British Empire that built it.”

“And there is a difference between us now,” said Volsky. “For I will not lay claim to God’s great seas, nor did I bring my ship here to quarrel with you or your nation. I will admit that there are officers aboard my vessel who wished you no good once our battle was joined. Yet I do not sail here to throw down a gauntlet before your British Empire, or to contest these waters for any hope of gain. Your ships gave challenge. We defended ourselves. Men have died on both sides, and I am seeking a way to end this nightmare and go home. Yes, if you must know the truth, Admiral, I am simply trying to find my way home again.”

“And yet you cannot even say where that is? Where in blazes did you come from?”

Nikolin had a little difficulty translating that last line, but knew enough to indicate that Admiral Tovey was expressing some anger. “He wants to know where we have come from, and I believe he getting a little angry about it, sir.”

“You might say: where the hell you’ve come from?” The Able Seaman at Tovey’s side put in.

Volsky nodded his understanding. “For the third time, I cannot answer that,” he said. “For both our sakes. You will not know what I mean just yet, but perhaps you will in time.” Then he spied the high promontory of the fortress wall on the hillside above them, and noted the gun casements that had been built for shore batteries at the foot of the walls. “Look there,” he pointed. “My young officer Fedorov here tells me those walls were built by the Moors in the twelfth century. And below them there are casements and gun positions to be manned by men guarding these waters today. Years ago the Caliph of Morocco was master of these straits. Today it is your ships and guns who guard the way. And what if you were to sail here in your flagship one day, Admiral, and find those gun casements missing, seeing only the walls of that castle in their place? What if you were to meet the Moorish swordsmen and archers there, and they boldly told you that all you could see, on every quarter, was the domain of Abdul Ar Rahman?” Volsky glanced at Fedorov, a quiet smile on his lips, then continued.

“Things change, Admiral Tovey. Things change. I cannot answer your questions any more than you could explain your existence to the men who built that fortress. I can only say this: If you wish to try and put my ship at the bottom of the sea, then I must prevent you from doing so. Yes, your Royal Navy is here, and no doubt with all your finest ships, but they will not be enough, Admiral. They will not be enough. I must tell you that I did not wish to see the destruction that occurred when last we met at sea. There was great disagreement among my senior officers as to what should be done, and how much force should be used. Unfortunately, I was indisposed when it came to battle, and my ship was under the command of another officer, with another mind as to how the matter should have been dealt with. And yet, while I am reluctant to act in that same manner, I must tell you that I have the power to do so—that my ship has the power to sail on though these narrow straits, and find the open sea by force of arms if necessary, and you have not seen even a small measure of what we are truly capable of doing in battle.”

Tovey frowned, a grave expression on his face, but Volsky continued, his tone changing now, more human, and with no hint of bravado in his voice. “There,” he said. “We have both thumped our chests like a pair of old fools, and now we must decide what happens next. We can decide as Admirals in a sea of war, or we can decide as men, eye to eye, and face to face, and find another solution. We can use our warships to settle the matter, or our intelligence, and perhaps a little more. There was a great Russian writer who put it this way: ‘It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.’ We must find what that is, you and I, or I’m afraid a great many more men will pay the price of our stupidity.”

Tovey took that in, considering. Yes, it made all the sense in the world now to find a way to settle this amicably, and without more loss of life, or ships for that matter. If he fought here, as he had hastened south with so much might to do, what would be left of his fleet at battle’s end, even if he did prevail? Yet how could he allow a ship with such power to sail out into the Atlantic where the life blood of the Empire now moved in big fat convoys, guarded by ships of war—convoys like the one they had just risked so much to fight through to Malta. If he let this ship pass it could pose the gravest threat to those sea lanes. The outcome of the entire war effort could depend on their security. He had this mysterious ship before him now, and wondered if he would ever have such an opportunity again. He cleared his voice and spoke his mind.