Yes, they would try once again, and he had a plan….
Even as he thought that, other men were thinking too, and asking questions, serious men, and very far away. He would never hear their voices; never know what they would say, but his life would be profoundly affected by what they concluded. For they, too, had plans of their own—plans that could put an end to the long debate and mounting tension between Fedorov and Karpov, but in a way neither of them would ever expect.
Part XII
The Wolf
“To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely…”
Chapter 34
“You say you detected a British Submarine? Finding such a submarine is not remarkable, but firing at it with a Special Warhead—that is another matter. I suppose that is wartime doctrine, but given the circumstances, it was most unwise. Strange that we have had no reports on any of this, and it is certainly something the British would know about if you did this. Yet they haven’t made even the barest whisper of a protest. So this is all very confusing.”
Gromyko shifted uncomfortably, waiting. The questions had been routine at first, but now they were getting to matters that were rather delicate. In fact, he had already said too much here. How much more should he reveal? What could he really say to these men—that he had been using a charmed control rod in his reactor and slipping about through time?…that he saw the world destroyed in a future that was even now right at the edge of events grabbing headlines all across the globe?…that he fled from that nightmare into the midst of yet another war, the Great Patriotic war, where he was bravely taking the fight to Russia’s great nemesis, Germany… until a British submarine intervened.
This was madness. It barely made sense to him at the moment, and he had lived through it all, hour by hour. Should he start over, from the very beginning? Should he tell them how he was summoned to the Sea of Okhotsk, and how the Admiral came aboard to brief him on a very secret mission? His remarks about that British sub had given up the game. Now they will have to know all the rest, and they could simply go mad right along with him.
Misery loves company.
His presence there was yet another mystery—or was it? Mister Garin, his Chief Engineer, had reported that Rod-25 was showing signs of physical damage. They had to retract it into a rad-safe container for further examination and analysis before attempting to use it again. So no, it was not Rod-25 that was the culprit this time. They had blown a hole right through time with one of their own torpedoes! It had happened in the heat of that last engagement with the German fleet in the Atlantic, and he was still trying to understand what had actually occurred there.
One minute they were feasting on the German Navy, the next minute his Sonarman Chernov was hearing a modern day British sub in the water, and Spearfish torpedoes followed soon after that report. He had reacted on pure reflex, an instinct born of long hours at sea in the heat of combat. That part was still clear in his mind:
“Launch noisemaker sled number one. Right rudder fifteen, down bubble fifteen! Rig for emergency silent running!” His own voice had been strident but sharp and firm. Kazan maneuvered like a shadow, its engines suddenly stilled, a great dark whale rolling over and slowly diving into the depths of the sea. At the same time, a special port on the nose of the ship launched a screw-driven sled, which trundled forward on the sub’s original course, leaving a trail of sound behind it designed to imitate the sub’s normal operating acoustic signature. The Matador twirled his cape, spinning deftly away from a threat he presumed was imminent—pure reflex.
He never had time to consider how that threat could possibly be there. That long honed instinct knew one thing: if Chernov was correct, and he was hearing a British Astute Class sub, then they most certainly heard Kazan as well. Those Spearfish torpedoes in the water had put the final word in on that argument. Nothing could be more real than a weapon intending the death of your ship—the death of every man aboard—your death.
“How far out are they?” He had asked Chernov.
“Quite a ways, sir. Sound Track has them at an estimated 30 klicks.”
They would be difficult to fool with the noise sled, he thought. We might get one to take the bait, but the other? The calculus of war was running through his mind in those few brief seconds. That was all the time he had to keep death at bay. Think! React! He remembered it all so very well….
What if I ran now? We’ve got about ten more minutes until those fish get close. They’re moving at 150kph! If I go all ahead full at 65kph now, I could run another twenty kilometers. That would put those fish right out near their maximum range, and well beyond their wire guided segment when they catch me….
“Secure silent running!” he said suddenly. “All ahead full battle speed!”
Kazan lurched ahead, her powerful engines straining. If Chernov’s read on the firing range was correct, things would be very close. The entire situation had now spun off in a wild twisted gyre of chaos. One minute it was WWII he was fighting, the next it was WWIII. It was the same shock that had just come to Kirov in the Pacific, though Gromyko knew nothing whatsoever of Karpov’s duel with Takami. Just the same, for him two wars were underway at the same time. He was either going to be dead in the next ten minutes, or someone else was. It came down to that single glaring choice.
The best defense was always a good offense, he knew. Those bastards are out there now, grinning at the other end of that fiber optic wire, and as long as that silent devil of a sub is out there, my life will not be worth five rubles. That sub is just too quiet. It’s a miracle Chernov heard the damn thing. If they don’t get me today, they’ll certainly try again tomorrow. He knew what he would do if this were 2021. Time to get serious…
“Load tube number one,” he said, his voice hard and low. “Special warhead. Mister Belanov,” he turned to his Starpom, “stand ready to initiate permissions sequencing.”
He reached for the Hammer of God….
He had fired his Type 65 torpedo, back along the axis of the undersea enemy attack. Soon, he thought, the sea will erupt with Neptune’s wrath.
It sounded like a great kettle being struck when it happened. Nearly a hundred meters deep, the 20 kiloton warhead went off with a resonant boom, the immense sphere of expanding gas and vaporized seawater creating a tremendous shock wave in all directions. The enemy Spearfish careened wildly off course, its sensitive sonar pummeled with the wrenching sound, dumbstruck.
Gromyko knew his torpedo would take too long to reach the enemy sub, but he only needed to get close. The shock of the warhead would expand out several kilometers, and all he needed was to get some of that awful explosive force close to his enemy to hurt this sub.
He didn’t really know what happened, but they could hear it. There came a rending sound, so deep and terrible that every man on the boat covered their ears, their faces taut with pain. It was a sound from another place, the moaning agony of eternity, long and distended, the meridians of infinity being wrenched and twisted until they broke.