John Schettler - 9 Days Falling, Volume I

Now what in seven hells is this about? I’ve got missiles inbound, Vipers ready to get out after them, and more trouble than a banshee in a basket right now!

It was going to be a very long day.

Theyhad their meeting in the officer’s mess that night, and Karpov watched the blood slowly drain from the face of the other two Captains. First there were smiles, as if he were telling them a good joke to relieve the tension of their situation. Then came the uncomfortable shifting in the seats, the looks of irritation and obvious frustration. Vranyo was vranyo , the little lies the Russians would stretch into stories with one another, and there were forms and protocols that had to be adhered to, but this was a little much considering what they had just been through.

Ryakhin and Yeltsin found themselves looking from Karpov to Zolkin and back again, clearly confused as to what was going on. It had taken the officers and crew of Kirov a good long while to come to grips with the fact that they had actually moved in time, and this even after being overflown by WWII class aircraft and encountering ships at sea that had long since been given to the scrap yards.

Ryakhin was a strait laced man, young, proud, having made Captain of the second rank just before the outbreak of hostilities. He was now commanding the new fleet frigate Admiral Golovko , a promising young officer who was given one of Russia’s newest ships. Yeltsin was older, more wizened, a Captain of the first rank as Karpov was. He knew Karpov from the academy and was somewhat leery of him. The stories he had heard of the man were none too flattering, but he was not one to dwell on gossip.

Both men slowly closed up, arms folded, eyes averted, and clearly unwilling to be led much further down the pathway Karpov was dragging them. Zolkin said nothing, thinking things through and watching the other men react to what Karpov was telling them.

“Yes,” said Karpov. “It sounds impossible, even crazy to even consider. Believe me, I felt the same way when Kirov first disappeared. But you will have the testimony of every man aboard this ship as to the truth of this. Doctor Zolkin here can attest to everything I am saying.”

Yeltsin looked up, thinking before he spoke, his lids heavy, a sheen of light perspiration on his brow and balding head. “Doctor? Please tell me this is all a nice little after dinner joke.” He smiled, but barely, casting a sideward glance at Karpov.

“I wish it were so,” said Zolkin. “But I’m afraid that what the Captain here has told you is the truth—at least insofar as we knew and lived it. It took us days to comprehend what had happened to us. For some aboard this ship it is still a dilemma.”

Karpov waved the orderly over and whispered something. “I have taken the liberty of arranging a little demonstration,” he said.

The orderly soon returned pushing a small cart with a video monitor and player. He also brought a bottle of good vodka and was pouring the officers a glass as Karpov explained what they would soon see.

“I am about to replay a visual log recording from the bridge of Kirov ,” he said calmly. “Yes, I know such things might be created in Hollywood studios, but I assure you, we did not set sail with the Red Banner Fleet just now with the intention of filming a movie. You will both recognize the formatting of this footage, as you have undoubtedly reviewed many similar digital logs in your years of service. What you are about to see now was recorded on a warm late summer day…in the year 1942.” It was from the log records they had hidden before Kapustin’s inspection.

He pressed the remote and the screen came alive. The camera was recording off the port side of the ship, and from the bow wave, it was clearly evident that Kirov was running at high rate of speed. Then they heard the whistle of falling ordnance and saw a sudden geyser of seawater exploding up from the sea. The voice of Admiral Volsky, unmistakable, was recognized by both men at once.

“Engage all airborne targets! Weapons free!”

“Sir—I have no radar locks!”

“Nothing?”

“No data, sir.”

“What are we fighting, Fedorov?” Karpov’s voice was heard now.

“Aichi D3A1—Dive bombers! High angle attack. They will come in from a cruising altitude between ten and fifteen thousand meters. Right on top of us!”

They could hear the drone of the diving planes growing louder in the background, and a second bomb splash fell closer, the explosion clearly imaged on camera in an angry geyser of seawater not fifty meters off the port side of the ship.

Karpov’s voice was heard again, loud and strong.

“Helm, ahead full battle speed! Samsonov, Kashtan system! High azimuth arc. Target zone zenith plus and minus ten degrees and fire all systems. Full missile barrage! Use infrared!”

“Aye, sir!”

The resulting action was filmed by the Tin Man cameras, and as the Kashtan close in defense system rotated its arms upwards Karpov noted how the two other officers leaned forward, spellbound as they watched the action unfold. The missiles ignited in a wash of white steamy smoke and danced into the sky above. Then another bomb fell just ahead of the ship and sent a wild spray of seawater over the bow. They saw Kirov roll heavily as she ran over the detonation, her sharp prow cutting through the seething water.

“Samsonov! Gatling system on full automatic! Now!”

They heard the snarl of the Gatling guns join the cacophony of noise as the Kashtans fired thousands of rounds of 30mm shells from their heavy arms, their muzzles spitting out enormous fiery jets of flame.

Yeltsin’s mouth opened in amazement as he watched. This was no live fire exercise, and nothing remotely like it could have been staged. It was riveting, tense and heartless combat, the like of which few other officers in the fleet had ever known…and it was clearly real. They could almost smell the smoke and feel the heat of the battle scene they were watching. Then the camera jiggled wildly and they heard a deafening explosion. Karpov squeezed the remote and paused the video.

“That was live combat footage of an engagement fought with this ship off the coast of Australia shortly after we displaced in time to the year 1942. We were clearly not prepared for action, as the ship’s systems were affected by the time displacement, as your systems were in recent hours. Yes, it was not only the volcanic ash. The shift in time caused a momentary loss of long range sensor systems. That’s how those planes could get right on top of us without our knowing about it. Otherwise we would have cut them to pieces before they ever got near us. Oh yes…Those were Japanese naval dive bombers referred to in that footage. As you saw, I had to take command and repel the attack with the Kashtan system.”

He thumbed the remote, and the segment skipped ahead. The voice of admiral Volsky was heard again.

“Mister Karpov.”

“Sir?”

“Come here, please…Mister Karpov, I gave Samsonov an order to engage those aircraft, weapons free.”

“Yes, sir, but I thought—”

“Just a moment, Captain Lieutenant, if you please…Look here, this man intervened in a critical moment, overriding my spoken orders, and he saved the ship just now. My orders were unclear. I specified no weapon system, yet Captain Karpov immediately assessed the situation and selected the only weapon system that could have possibly engaged the enemy given the angle of this attack, and he saved the ship. I have long believed that Captain Karpov was one of the finest tactical combat officers in the fleet.”