John Schettler - Crescendo of Doom

All twelve Klinok missiles scored hits, thinning the ranks to 22 Sparrowhawks and 16 Kingfishers. There came a brief interval of calm. Then, ten minutes later, the sky was scored by the vapor trails of more missiles, this time the Aster-15s rising to challenge the enemy as they reached the 30 kilometer range line. Argos Fire had eighty of these left, and had fired an initial barrage of ten. By the time ten more planes and crews had died, the incoming attack had sustained nearly 50% casualties, and it was going to take some very brave men to press on against targets they had not even spotted.

The squadron leader had had enough. Citing darkness and poor visibility, and facing an enemy that had such lethal accuracy, he broke off his attack and turned back. The first trip wire of enemy air defenses would therefore be passed for the expense of 22 missiles. The last twelve pilots in the Kingfishers dropped their torpedoes, if only to say they had at least delivered some potential reprisal to the unseen enemy. None of the 60 torpedoes carried by the Sparrowhawks ever tasted water, except those that fell in those fiery wrecks.

Back at their bases, disheartened and defeated, the Air Commander had no harsh words for them. “Let the Navy handle this,” he said. “I will send no more of my men to their death against ships that can kill us before we even see them! Let the submarines deal with these ships!”

It was as if he had announced act two of the play that was now unfolding, for far beneath the sea, well out in the van of the British formation, Chernov was listening intently on his sonar headphones, and suddenly smiled.

“Con, Sonar. Contacts ahead, enemy submarines, confidence high.”

On the bridge of Kazan , Gromyko reached up, ever so slowly, and did what every man there expected him to do— he scratched the back of his head. The Matador was about to unfurl his cape.

MackMorgan had his answer from Tovey, that Rodney had been recalled for maintenance problems, and would be bound for Boston soon. It seemed simple enough, but just to be thorough, he decided to check ship’s records to see what he could find on the incident. Now he was in Elena Fairchild’s stateroom, making his intelligence report.

“A bit of a mixed bag here, Mum. On the one hand, Tovey’s information jives with our own historical records on movements for this ship, on the other, I don’t think he’s given us the whole story.”

“Oh? Please explain.”

“Well, I decided to dig a little deeper, and went over the log of that ship’s movements in some detail. It seems it was given a special mission, very secret, transporting bullion and other valuables to the United States for safe keeping.”

Elena did not tell Mack that she already knew that. It was in the historical record, and she knew all the details given her position in the Watch.

“Thing is this, Mum. That’s our history, from the world we were sailing in before that trip we took to Delphi, and before we pulled this duty. As we’ve seen, this world is more than a wee bit different. That British ship out there never existed in our world, nor the ship we’re out after now, the Hindenburg . So I find it odd that these little details still seem to hold some coherent shape. I mean, Rodney was detailed to Force H just before this assignment, not on convoy duty out of Halifax, as in our history. But when it comes to this little secret mission, it’s as if the event has a kind of magnetism. I’ve had my people listening in on Admiralty message traffic—got to keep the black line boys busy. And we went over those message logs as well. Rodney was ordered back to the Clyde, and was to refuel for immediate duty thereafter. Needless to say, that’s very strange for a ship with dodgy boilers and a bad turbine.”

“King’s business, at least in this world,” said Elena. “Any movement of bullion and other valuables would have that designation.”

“Fair enough, no argument there. But I read a little further, and it seems Rodney had a collision a few weeks ago. The ship ran into a trawler in a night passage as she was returning to the Clyde. Oh, it’s right there in our own historical logs, but why should it also be the case here in this world? We’ve got Russia broken into three pieces, strange ships at sea, Gibraltar taken by the Germans, not to mention Malta! With all these major changes, why would something of such insignificance hold true in both worlds like that? But that’s the case. I just read the Admiralty message on that collision. Found it in the signals archive we’ve been building since we got here. There it was—same ship, and same bloody day. It happened on the 20th of April.”

“Same day? That is strange,” said Elena. “And where is Rodney at this moment?”

“Scapa Flow,” said Morgan. “She was escorted there by three destroyers, and arrived the 23rd of April. She’s been there ever since. The cover story is maintenance on those turbines, but then we have this King’s business you mention. According to our history, she’ll soon be sent to the Clyde again to load boiler tubes and a few other little niceties.”

“The Elgin Marbles,” said Elena.

“Aye, pilfered by our very own Lord Elgin.”

“ Rescued by Lord Elgin,” said Elena, and Mack gave her a wink.

“You have an interest in this, Mum?”

“Somewhat,” said Elena, thinking. “Thanks Mack. Stay on top of this, will you? I want to be informed the instant that ship puts to sea, and if you can give me heading, course and speed, all the better. Don’t you just love tall orders like that?”

“Well,” said Mack, “I’ll have to earn my keep somehow. I’ll have my ear to the ground on this one for you because, with this little foot race we’re in here, I’ve a notion that things are going to heat up for us fairly soon. We expended ten Aster-15s to repel that incoming air strike, but that was the end of it. The Russians threw twelve missiles at it themselves, and there will be more than a few empty chairs in the squadron briefing room tomorrow. So I think we’ll get through the Sicilian narrows tonight as planned. After that, things should settle down until we get closer to Gibraltar.”

“Good enough, Mack. Keep me informed.” She thought for a moment. “Oh Mack, one other thing. Get another message off to Admiral Tovey. Ask if we can come alongside tonight. I’d like to have a little chat with him.”

Thatnight the weather was fair, with calm seas, and it made the ride across to HMS Invincible a little easier for Elena. She had sea legs for the big boats, but never felt comfortable on the small ones. She was piped aboard, glad to be up the ladder and on a firm and steady deck again, and enduring the curious glances from the young officers, unaccustomed as they were to ever seeing a woman aboard ship.

Some minutes later she was escorted into Admiral Tovey’s stateroom, and there she was surprised to see that the young Russian Captain was also there with his interpreter.

“Good evening, Miss Fairchild,” said Tovey. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve invited another guest for tea.”

Elena gave Fedorov a quick glance, smiling and extending a hand, but thought better of saying that she had hoped this might be a private meeting. The Russian Captain was most likely here to discuss the route ahead, and coordinate plans, so she would get through ship’s business first, as always, before turning to the questions she had been ruminating on of late.

“The Captain and I have just been informed that a pair of Italian submarines are waiting for us up ahead off the Skerki Banks. Good place for an ambush, I suppose. We call those narrows ‘Bomb Alley,’ at least we did before we lost Malta. Our convoys have no business there now, and the Italians are probably wondering just what business we have at the moment. But don’t worry, Mister Fedorov here tells me his people are handling the matter.”