“You think they’ll sacrifice their ship just to pull our teeth?”
“That sounds like their plan, sir. How many missiles can we afford to commit here?”
“As many as it takes.” Karpov was angry now. “Those impudent little—”
“Con, radar, those airborne formations are coming up on our 40 mile range circle.”
Karpov pinched his nose, chasing the headache that this entire situation had become. Every time he maneuvered himself to a position where he could make a decisive intervention, something happened to interfere with his plans. In August of 1941, on their first arrival, it had been Troyak and his Marines, just when he was ready to smash the Allied fleet. Back home in 2021, it had been the Demon Volcano, just when he was ready to finish off Captain Tanner and his vaunted carrier battlegroup. 1908 would have been a cake walk with Admiral Togo’s antiquated fleet, but then along came Kazan, and Fedorov had everything to do with much of his frustration. Now, just as he was poised to break the Japanese Northern Fleet, here comes this challenger from his own day, unaccountably here, but as real as the missiles it was firing.
And when Karpov met with resistance, there was one sure response that he had demonstrated time and time again. He had tried to tell Fedorov he was a chastened and wiser man now, but some problems become nails that stubbornly refuse to be pulled from the beam. And when that happened, Karpov too often did the one thing that was both expedient and certain to resolve the situation in his favor.
He reached for a hammer.
“Damn annoying,” said Karpov, looking at the updated position of the air contacts. The predictive plot line was indicating they would be in position to attack the ship in just 12 minutes. “Samsonov—two missiles, Klinok system. Give them a taste of what they’ll get if they persist, and also let our uninvited guests to the south see that we mean what we say. Take down the lead incoming planes.” He looked at Fedorov. “You know, I have half a mind to plop a special warhead right here,” he pointed to the Plexiglass screen. “It would take out their surface action group, knock down all those planes and the EMP and shock wave would probably fry the electronics on that destroyer.”
Fedorov’s pulse quickened. There it was, Karpov’s old reflex to escalate the situation when he was under stress. “Sir, a nuclear weapon? I hardly think that is warranted here.”
“You heard that bastard. They’re going to sit there and force me to run missile after missile at them. Our SSMs are valuable. I already regret the thirteen we’ve thrown away here. And who knows how many more it will take to get through their SAM defense? A special warhead would be so much quicker. In fact, on a MOS-III it would get so close that it would probably take them out if we detonate before they try that laser again. It would end this here and now, leaving my SSM inventory strong enough to continue to apply pressure on the Japanese here in the north. Our first order of business will be to find the carriers these bothersome planes are coming from. That will teach them.”
Fedorov had to think quickly here, because knowing Karpov, he was just one order away from doing what he was suggesting. That would put the two of them head to head in a most uncomfortable way, as protocol held that the Starpom must repeat the Captain’s order, thereby giving his consent, in the deployment of any special warhead. Whether that mattered now with Karpov was debatable, but he needed to intervene here, and quickly.
“Sir… I understand your logic here, but it has one flaw.”
“Oh? Enlighten me, Mister Fedorov.”
“What you say is true. This action would preserve our SSM missile inventory, but for the expenditure of a special warhead? Would you trade that power for those 13 missiles we just fired? I certainly wouldn’t. Those warheads are decisive. Yes, they trump any enemy defense, in any situation we choose on a tactical level like this, but their real power lies in their application on the strategic level. Consider what the Americans did with theirs. They never once thought to develop this weapon for use on the tactical level. It was always a strategic blow they envisioned, and their target selection bears witness to that. Timed appropriately, in just the right situation, those warheads represent absolute power to change the course of events.”
Karpov pursed his lips. “Yes, I suppose that is true, but if I smash them here, take out these battleships and then find their carriers, I will have effectively broken the back of their Northern Fleet. It would then be impossible for them to interfere with our subsequent landings on Sakhalin.”
“Sir, I doubt they can do that as it stands. It won’t take much to mission kill that surface action group—just a handful of SSMs, or better yet, we could use the Vodopads. Torpedoes are a much better solution against those heavily armored battleships. Save the SSMs for the carriers, and it will only take one or two hits.”
“What about that destroyer? Do you think we can leave it to its devices here?”
“They have virtually no offensive capability now,” Fedorov said quickly. “And they’ve already expended a good number of SAMs here on defense. That’s all they are now, just what they think they can turn us into—a radar picket with good AA defense. In my view, their real military power here is very limited now. In fact, I wouldn’t even waste anything further on them. Yet, if you must, I would think four MOS-IIIs might do the job. Their laser defense may get one of them, but my bet is that one gets through. That said, I would not give that ship the time of day here. They are not a threat to our operations, not even worth those four MOS-IIIs.”
Karpov waited, thinking, then raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” he said quietly. “I was only thinking out loud, Fedorov, nothing more. Mister Samsonov… I think it’s time we do make good on one of our promises. Take down that incoming air strike.”
Chapter 45
“Sir,” said Otani. “I have missile fire again. This time its directed at the air strike off Kaga. SA-N-92 Gauntlet type missiles are outbound now.”
“Range?”
“79 nautical miles.”
“We’d never hit them with the SM-2,” said Fukada. “They’ll be on target before our missiles are even half way there.”
“A lot of good we’ve done here,” said Harada, somewhat dejected. “If we’re to defend the fleet, we’ll have to have all the eggs in our nest. With missiles as fast as these Russian SSMs, we can’t even protect Kurita—which reminds me. Have they turned?”
“No sir, they are still on a heading of 020 degrees north, and at 24 knots.”
“Well then we need to reinforce our suggestion and get them out of there. Otherwise this Karpov will do exactly what he bragged about a moment ago. Let’s face it, we need to withdraw. We’ve covered the landing of those troops, but this plan to take on that Russian battlecruiser had gone bust. It isn’t a question of us getting him now. It’s down to whether or not we can save ourselves.”
“What about the rail gun,” said Fukada, pointing to that weapons control station.
“What about it? Like I said earlier, all we would do is rile them up if we started taking pokes at them with that gun. I say we pull in our horns, make a graceful bow and get the hell out of here. If he continues south towards Hokkaido, then we’ll reconvene this discussion. But at least down south we’ve got more Japanese land based air power. It looks like they’ve called my bluff. We’re finished.”
“But we might at least get in a few licks, perhaps damage them.”
“Sour grapes,” said Harada. “No, mister Fukada, it’s weapons tight on the rail gun. That’s an order. And before you get your feathers ruffled about it, I want you to consider the fact that we’ve got just 36 SM-2s left. If we hang on in this scenario, we might have to use them all, and with a very uncertain outcome for this ship. Yet if we keep those arrows in our quiver, we’ve at least retained some tactical power as a military fighting ship. It’s going to be a very long war….”