John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

“It took us all a good long while to come to grips with this,” said Rodenko, “and for the life of me none of us still really know why this is happening.”

“We were in the wrong place at the right time,” said Karpov. “Or you can look at it the other way around if you like to feel better about it. I say we were in exactly the right place at a decisive time. Now we’ll see what we can do about the situation.”

“Well sir, with Orlan and our own inventory, we’ll have 364 SAMs. Throw in the Kashtans on Golovko and we’re looking at over 400 missiles in the flotilla.”

“More than sufficient,” Karpov nodded.

“For the time being, sir,” said Rodenko, with just the slightest edge of a warning in his voice. He remembered all too well those tense moments as the ship’s SAM inventory dwindled away to nothing. “When we made port in Vladivostok there wasn’t a single SAM left on board, and we had exactly eleven surface action missiles left. We would not have had even those if not for the reloads we were carrying for live fire exercises. Our missiles are the one great advantage we have now.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Karpov said quickly. “So here we are back in the same old borscht. I’ll have to conserve that missile inventory as much as possible, but realize that the Americans will have something to say about it as well. If they get pushy, we’ll have to respond.”

Rodenko nodded. “We had the KA-226 up with good long range feeds earlier, Captain. There’s a considerable naval presence in this region at the moment.”

“Yes… I’ve been reading Fedorov’s book. Nikolin has also identified this force here from radio traffic as the American TF.38.3. The history notes it is commanded by an Admiral Sprague.”

“I’m reading at least six large capital ships in the core, sir, and then two large groups in the outer screen—looks like a great many destroyers and light cruisers.”

“I can name them all for you, if that book holds true.”

“And they have planes in the air now, Captain. We have about twenty minutes to make a decision here. The Fregat is indicating over a 100 aircraft.”

“The Japanese hit us with that many planes on two occasions.”

“And those attacks drained a considerable percentage of our SAMs, sir. Even so, we took a near fatal hit. If that plane had struck us anywhere other than the aft citadel, things could have been very bad.”

Karpov recalled those attacks, the Japanese screaming in on the ship from all compass headings, missiles firing in selected barrages, the Gatling guns burning down the rest. But they had to be 100% accurate. They had to get them all. If even one got through to deliver its bomb or torpedo…

“I intend to warn those planes off,” he said. “They’ll probably pay no attention, but it’s worth a try. I owe Fedorov at least that much.”

“I understand, sir. But if we had not engaged that smaller American scouting force earlier…”

“What’s done is done, Rodenko.” The Captain walked briskly over to the communications station where Nikolin was monitoring radio traffic.

“They’re very chatty,” he said. “Everyone has two names.”

“Nicknames, Mister Nikolin. The Americans love them.”

“Yes, sir. I believe one of the flight leaders is called “Iron Mike.”

“Can you broadcast on that band?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Then warn those planes off. State that we are on a diplomatic mission to Sagami Bay. We are not to be overflown by armed planes, and if any attempt to do so they will be opposed.”

Nikolin translated and broadcast the message, but the voice on the other end of the line didn’t seem too accommodating. “He says they have orders to investigate the downing of five American planes, and that’s what they intend to do, sir. And he doesn’t sound impressed by our threat to oppose an overflight. He wants us to identify ourselves.”

That was expected, thought Karpov. Identify ourselves. Just who in God’s name are we in this world now? Could he say he was on a mission from the Soviet government? That may provide some thin cover for a time, until inquiries were made and it was denied. How could he possibly explain his situation and intent to a fighter pilot named “Iron Mike?” He might just as well try to explain it all to a dog, or so he thought in that moment. The notion that he was bigger, better, more evolved and definitely more powerful than the men behind those radar blips on the ship’s screens was evident to him now.

“Tell them this is Captain Vladimir Karpov on an independent diplomatic mission, and that if they do not break off and alter heading within ten minutes we must assume hostile intent.”

The word came back a minute later. “He says they have no intention of altering course and advises us to reduce speed and prepare to be overflown. He says boarding parties will be dispatched from nearby ships and we can take up our diplomatic request with the proper authorities.”

The proper authorities, thought Karpov. As if I am answerable to these men for my presence and actions here! Their immediate assumption is that they hold all authority, that they are the law and rule the day. There was a brief flash of anger in his mind, and his next words reflected his mood well enough.

“You tell Iron Mike that he has no authority over this ship, over these waters, or anything else in this region. We will not be boarded, nor will we be overflown by armed aircraft. He has about five minutes to divert his heading.”

Nikolin listened intently, turning to Karpov, his brown eyes large under this head phones now. “He’s talking to his superiors now sir…Here he is again…” He translated as he listened. “Captain Carp, or whoever you are, might makes right, and we have both, as you will soon bear witness. The United States Navy is presently the sole authority in all these waters now. You’ll give way and heave to for boarding and inspection or be damned. If it is found that you are not an authorized agent of an allied government, then you and your crew will be arrested, the ship impounded, and your case heard before a properly formed military tribunal. We will not divert.”

“The United States Navy…” Karpov’s tone carried the obvious disdain he felt now. “They’re all the same,” he breathed. “This one is no different than Captain Tanner was eighty years hence. They will hound us from this moment until that volcano erupts. This is where it all started, but not this time; not on my watch.”

Rodenko gave the Captain a wide eyed look, but said nothing. He knew what was likely to happen here, and feared the worse from the moment he saw those radar returns on the incoming planes.

“Mister Nikolin. Contact destroyer Orlan . Signal Air Alert One and prepare to oppose incoming strike wave. Tell them to track and prepare to fire at any target crossing the100 kilometer range line. They are to use their medium range S-400 system, salvos of eight until I give the order to cease fire. Admiral Golovko is to hold fire and observe unless directly attacked. They should be especially vigilant for any sign of undersea activity. Once you receive confirmation of that order from Captain Yeltsin, contact this Iron Mike again and tell him if he moves inside the 100 kilometer range line, then he and his planes will be presumed hostile and will be fired upon and opposed with deadly force.”

Rodenko looked at his screen. The planes were 140 kilometers out now and moving at about 400kph. In six minutes they would cross the 100 kilometer range line. He informed Karpov of this, and the Captain nodded. “Tell them they must break off in five minutes or we must assume they intend to attack.”

Nikolin translated again, and there was a long minute before he had an answer.