Schettler, John
Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series)
“Perm? What were you to do there?”
“We never know. Volkov moves us around like chess pieces. More often than not my ships are used for reconnaissance, but we never get operational orders until we arrive at our assigned patrol station.”
That was useful information, thought Karpov. He might want to keep Symenko alive for a while, just to see what else he could learn.
“Then what about Pavlodar?”
“It was sent south to operate with one of the southern divisions.”
“What ships?”
“Sarkand, Tashkent, Samarkand, Kazan — big ships, all 150,000 cubic meter lift, and high climbers too.”
“Why would one of your ships be detached south right before a major operation? We were watching your division-all four ships-and they were being well dispersed as per the agreement we made with Volkov at Omsk.”
“Yes,” said Symenko. “I was taking my ship to Perm. Astana was pulled west, and only Oskemen was left on the line. Then I got these orders to rendezvous with Captain Petrov at Tyumen, and we were to sneak in here well north of the rail line and, well, here we are.”
“Yes… Here you are. Volkov could have sent me a cable to tell me anything he wrote in that letter. He could have also told me to expect you, so as to avoid any unpleasantries. But that isn’t what he had planned, was it? He wanted to make sure things would get edgy here. That’s why he ordered you to swing well north and approach this place unseen. Well, I have news for you, Symenko, Pavlodar is back, only now we’ve identified at least three other airships coming up from the south. Volkov dispersed your division, showing me the open hand near Omsk, but all the while he was clenching another fist behind his back. I have little doubt that those ships you just mentioned will be crossing the southern border zone even as we speak.”
Symenko held up a finger, thinking, playing the act out as best he could. “And now I recall orders for the 8th Kazakh light armor to move! Yes, I signed transfer papers for a young Lieutenant last week. He was tired of freezing his ass off in the Aero Corps and had been wanting a posting to a ground division for some months now. When I sent him off we talked about how bad the food was down south-he was posting to Karaganda-but he said his division wouldn’t be there long. Those were his exact words.”
“What other divisions were on that border zone?”
“15th Rifles, way down at Oskemen, and the 22nd just arrived to replace a worn out unit at Pavlodar.”
“Yes, we saw them pull out, the old 19th. They were good for nothing, but it looked as though Volkov was lightening up his deployments on the line, so we were glad to see them go.”
“Don’t be so happy. The 22nd is a specially trained unit, Karpov. It’s air mobile! Damn thing operates with that very same airship division coming up from the south. Why… They’re going to swing in over the mountains down there! That’s what they’re up to! There’s a big hole in your line there. I’ve scouted it many times and wet my beak in the high lakes of the Altay Mountains. With that many airships Volkov could lift a full brigade and drop it right on the city your ship is named for.” Symenko smiled. There, he had just thrown the bear a nice fish.
“Abakan?”
“You have nothing there, eh?” Symenko pressed his argument while he had Karpov nibbling. “Don’t you see? Volkov could take Abakan and cut the road all the way south to Mongolia-cut off your 107th division down there and leave them to the Japanese.”
Karpov frowned. “You know a good deal more than you let on, Symenko. Keep talking and I just may find a place for you in my command staff. But first we have a situation here to resolve. What do we do about this Captain Petrov?”
“He won’t surrender his ship, not Petrov. That man is a stiff prick, if ever there was one. He’ll fight.”
“But not long. I have Angara sitting off his hind end.”
“He’ll drop ballast and come up shooting.”
“And he’ll go down the same way. Leave that ship to me. The question now is what to do about your ship? Who is your Executive Officer?”
“Barmenko-a good man, but he’s with me. In fact, most of my officers were with Denikin. Others transferred in.”
“Sounds like Volkov was getting all his rats onto the same ship, but no offense meant, Symenko.”
“None taken, Karpov. Well, I can tell Barmenko we’ve permission to dock at Kansk. We could ease my ship over there, and I could order Petrov to stay put where he is. Then you settle affairs with him any way you wish.”
Karpov smiled. “You see, Captain. The things they say about you have been very much exaggerated.”
“Oh? What have you heard?”
“That you are a hot headed old fart, too quick to anger and without a reasonable bone in your body. But I find you quite reasonable, wouldn’t you say?” Now Karpov raised the revolver, pointing it right at Symenko’s head again, and this time he pulled the trigger.
Chapter 11
There was a dry clink, and Symenko jumped as the hammer of Karpov’s revolver snapped down on an empty chamber. Karpov smiled, seeing the look of real fear on Symenko’s face now.
“The other five chambers all have bullets,” he said as he fixed Symenko with that same evil grin. He knew damn well that Volkov would have never sent a rabid dog like Symenko out as a courier boy. No. And all that talk about losing his appointment to the Governorate was a nice little sob story. He had his suspicions about Pavlodar moving south like that, and Symenko had just confirmed them, along with a good hint at what was soon to transpire on the southern border zone. Could he be believed?
The Lieutenant rushed in when he heard the gun clink, his eyes wide. He saw Symenko slouched in the chair, breathing hard, a look on his face like a trapped animal.
“Get him to the brig,” said Karpov. This man was too useful to kill just now. “Then get the spy basket ready and signal the Alexandra that their Captain is returning.”
What happened next was planned from the very moment Karpov had news of these air contacts. He knew he had to act quickly, because a third contact had been spotted and it could be here within the hour, changing the odds considerably. For the moment, he had the advantages of both position and surprise, and he was going to use them while he could.
“A pity you won’t be able to see what I’m about to do to your airship,” said Karpov. “Good day, Symenko-at least for me.”
He was up and out of the briefing room, his footsteps hard on the metal grid of the keelway as he hastened forward to the main bridge. He was down the ladder quickly and ready to fight.
“Admiral on the bridge!”
“All guns manned and ready, Bogrov?”
“Aye sir. Shells chambered and guns trained on the targets. We couldn’t miss if we tried.”
“Very good. In a few minutes we will begin lowering the spy basket to return Captain Symenko to his ship. He’s in the brig, but no one down there will know that. Lower it right down on that open gun platform so it blocks their line of fire. The moment that basket comes in reach of their crew, we open fire. Signal the gun crews. All batteries fire on code red! Be ready on that signal flare.”
“Aye sir! Code red.” Bogrov nodded to a Lieutenant, and the order was quickly piped down to the gun pods beneath the gondolas. He had his ship hovering perpendicular to the Alexandra so he could bring every gondola gun to bear on the target. He had a big 105mm recoilless beneath the bridge gondola, three 76mm guns under the main gondola amidships, and two more of those on the aft gondola. Six rounds were going to be a most unpleasant advantage in the opening salvo, and Bogrov was correct, at no more than 200 meters range they could not miss.
Down went the spy basket, even as word was passed via field phone to the upper gun platform on top of the ship: Ready on signal flare one. A young mishman was fitting the red tipped round to his flare gun, waiting for the order, and then the phone rang again. He looked smartly to the gun master, who nodded. “Red, red, red!”