“ Abakan is aloft, sir, and I make it a little under an hour before we rendezvous with Angara and Talmenka.”
“Very well, Mister Bogrov. In spite of the circumstances I will want all aeroguns manned and ready at all times.”
“We will remain at full action stations throughout the journey, sir. All systems manned.”
More than a means of conveyance, Abakan was also a fighting ship, with one turret mounting a single 105mm recoilless rifle on the forward gun gondola, three more 76mm beneath the long main gondola and another two on the aft gondola. Normal artillery using heavy hydraulic gun recoil carriages were simply too cumbersome, and the recoil of such weapons would have thrown the ship off its axis, causing violent swings in the gondolas and jarring vibrations that made it completely impractical to use them.
The solution was the Kurchevski ‘Dynamic Reaction Cannon,’ (DRP), mounted in pods beneath the gondolas. The guns could have their back flash vented safely into the open air by means of a simple manifold that diverted the stream downward beneath the gun pod, and the pod itself could rotate a full 360 degrees. The weapons also offered stability and light weight, yet sacrificed range to do so. Being largely designed for ground bombardment, they could still engage other zeppelins, but with maximum ranges between 4000 and 6000 meters. Another drawback was that the guns could not elevate well with the gondolas above them and the massive bulk of the airship. So an airship duel was always a struggle to gain superior elevation on the enemy ship where you could blast the big target below while remaining safe from all but small caliber return fire. To correct this firing arc defect, one or more 76mm recoilless rifles were positioned right atop the airship, on a reinforced platform anchored to the central Duralumin frame.
Above the gondola structures, the interior of the rigid Duralumin airframe could also be accessed from the long “keelway” that allowed the crew to move from the nose of the ship to its tail. Ladders up allowed crews to man the 20mm cannons on the top of the ship, one fore and one aft, and a battery of four machine guns. There were eight more 12.7mm machine guns positioned along the sides of the main the airframe in small dimples, and accessible by ladders positioned outside the main gas bag sectors.
The ship could also deploy bombs for ground attack, fledgling Katyusha style rockets arrayed in light weight aluminum racks, and a new longer range rocket assisted ‘glide bomb’ for standoff ground attacks. Much of this rocket technology had come from the Orenburg Federation, which seemed to be one of the leaders in that field, spurred on by Volkov. Some alarming leaps had been made in rocket technology there, and ‘the Prophet’ insisted it would one day become the preeminent military weaponry.
Even with all these arms mounted, the airship was capable of lifting another 40,000 pounds of arms, men or equipment. The rear cargo gondola could even carry two small armored cars that could be lowered by an engine driven crane and pulley system.
“I trust the men are ready with the appropriate honor guard?” The Admiral was justifiably touchy, for this day would see a meeting that may decide the fate of all Russia east of the Volga for decades to come. It was a high level diplomatic mission, arranged during a tensely negotiated truce between the Free Siberian State and Orenburg Federation. The two nation-states had been warring along a ragged border that seemed to change daily with one side or another making claims and incursions.
Swift raids by the Siberian Tartar cavalry would seize hamlets and villages, plunder them for supplies and food, and then withdraw. This would lead to the deployment of regular army units of the Grey Legion of Orenburg, and the simmering conflict eventually erupted to a major action at Omsk the previous winter. The legion pushed towards the city, once the westernmost major settlement in Free Siberia, and they crossed the Irtysh river there, occupying the entire city and driving another forty miles along the rail line through Kornilovka to Kalachinsk.
More motorized than the Siberian forces, the spring thaw of 1940 had seen the legion bog down in the marshy steppe country beyond Kalachinsk, but there were plans for a renewed offensive. Old Man Kolchak and his Lieutenants were well aware that Orenburg seemed intent on pushing east.
“What are the prospects for peace, Admiral?” said the Air Commandant.
“That remains to be seen, Bogrov. The Grey Legion has its hands full on the Volga, yes? Their campaign against Omsk last winter has emboldened them, and perhaps they think they will have continued success against us-but not if I can help it.”
“They will outnumber us, sir, both on the ground and up here as well. Were flying west with more than a third of our entire air fleet. Don’t be surprised if they have five or six airships over Omsk at this moment, and planes on the ground at the ready, sir.”
“We have cards to play, Bogrov. The battalion we carry here is but one of the entire 18th Siberian Rifle Division. Kolchak has moved the whole division west as a measure of our resolve. The Volga Tartars have been restless, and many will come to our side if this conflict continues. Volkov knows this, which is perhaps the only reason he agreed to this meeting. Together with our Siberian Tartars, we could put half a million horsemen in the field and drive a wedge through Orenburg all the way to the Urals. He will do anything he can to prevent that, so it does not matter how many airships he has at the moment. We have resources Orenburg needs, and a strong position for negotiations.”
“Will we get Omsk back sir?”
“I will insist on it. It is either that, or I will tell Volkov that he will have to garrison the river as far south as Oskemen.”
“What about the Japanese, sir? They already have troops in Mongolia. If they push further west Volkov will have them on his eastern border too.”
“The Japanese are of no concern for the moment. They have already taken what they want from us, and will see little value in getting embroiled in a war in the heartland of Asia.”
The Admiral was studying his map even as he spoke, gesturing with a pencil. “No. Mark my words. Japan will soon direct its main war effort to the Pacific. They will want the Philippines, Indochina, Malaysia, the Dutch East Indies for their oil and rubber. They may even look to war on Australia.”
“But that will mean war with the British and Americans at once, sir. Surely they could never hope to win in such a conflict.”
“The British Empire is not what it once was, Bogrov. They will soon lose the last of their Asian bastions. Japan will take Hong Kong and Singapore from them as easily as they took Vladivostok and Port Arthur from us. As for the Americans, that is another matter. They will not be prepared at the outset. The Japanese will surprise them with the ferocity and ambition of their war effort. In time events may take another course, but it will be of no concern to us here for years. If Japan loses its war, then we will pick up the scraps and retake our eastern Pacific provinces. But first-Ivan Volkov. First we settle accounts with him.”
“I wish you good luck in the negotiations, Admiral. Old Man Kolchak had great faith in you, as we all do.”
“Luck will have nothing to do with it, Mister Bogrov.”
The Admiral looked up from his map, the red underway light of the main bridge painting his features red, and underscoring the prominent scar on his right cheek, an old wound he never spoke about. He stood up, folding his arms, his eyes gazing out the viewports at the gleaming river far below them now.
He was not a big man, slight of frame and a bit round shouldered as Bogrov regarded him. The Air Commandant was a burly man, taller and more husky than the Admiral, but there was something in the way this man moved, something in the way he looked at you with those dark eyes above that scar that was most unnerving. A man’s strength was not always found in his arms and shoulders, Bogrov knew. The man had come on the scene a few years ago and now had more titles than the Air Commandant could count.