“On the naval front, Admiral Volkov and Admiral Sulkin have their forces prepared for action,” he continued. “The Turks have turned a blind eye to our submarines as they move though the choke point there; officially, of course, they’re being moved to the bases in the north. The Northern and Baltic fleets are ready for operations in support of the army; we will move the Black Sea fleet through the choke point as soon as war is declared, unless the Turks decide to get involved. They shouldn’t — they’re not keen on the Europeans since they were told they couldn’t play in the European club — but it doesn’t matter. Our main priority in the Mediterranean is clearing the European Standing Force out of the way and assisting the Algerians, until the day that we knife them in the back. Again, there is no sign that the Europeans have any idea that anything is untoward; the only point of concern for them is the Gazprom strike.”
Nekrasov laughed shortly. The Gazprom Company handled almost all of Russia’s exports of energy supplies, including LNG; it wasn’t likely that its workers would want to strike. Now, however, there were over a dozen fully-loaded Gazprom tankers in a variety of harbours across Europe, all apparently held there by a strike. The Europeans had laughed and believed the claim that they were striking in Europe because strikers in Russia would be shot; the Russian Government had paid for the docking slips and negotiations were dragging on.
Or, at least, that was the official story.
“Finally, we will have over three thousand aircraft dedicated to the operation, from bombers and fighters to heavy transports that will support the paratroopers and the other forces behind enemy lines,” Shalenko concluded. “The doctrine has been revised countless times and prepared; we should be able to destroy most of the opposing air forces within the first week or force them to expand their supplies faster than they can replace them. At the worst case, the Americans will ship missiles and spare parts from America to the British, but they cannot replace pilots or airframes.”
Nekrasov smiled. “It was nice of the North Koreans to finally launch their offensive,” he agreed. “That should give the Americans something to worry about.”
Shalenko nodded. The North Koreans had pushed back the South Koreans and the Americans through sheer weight of firepower… and through some advanced weapons they had purchased from China before China had made its desperate grab for Taiwan, lost, and plunged into civil war. The Americans were rushing in more air power and soldiers from all over the world; insurgents in the Middle East were not slow to take advantage of it. The Americans would have their hands full.
Nekrasov looked up at him. “Alex, how good would you say our chances actually are?”
Shalenko had thought about it, time and time again, attempting to cut as many variables out of the equation as possible. The plan had been years in the making, but he knew, as well as anyone, that anything could go wrong. Friction had been built into the plan, but the urgent need to knock as much of EUROFOR out of the fighting within the first few hours had meant that there had been compromises made… some of them truly nerve-wracking. What would happen if…?
He owed Nekrasov a honest answer. “If everything goes to plan,” he said, “we should win the main body of the fighting within a month at most. We will then have to consolidate, ensure that the Algerians don’t get a chance to make their own gains permanent, and ensure that we secure most of what we need from Europe. Consolidation could take months, but our victory would be certain.
“If everything does not go to plan, we still have a good chance of winning, but at a much higher cost,” he continued. “We might also have to concede some gains to the Algerians, something that we don’t want and they will be working to force us to accept. If they trust us, I would be very surprised; they have to know that we intend to take most of the gains from Operation Stalin.”
“If worst comes to worst, we can block their shipping lanes and ship their people off to Siberia,” Nekrasov said. Shalenko nodded; the fate of the thousands of people in Europe who were considered either dangerous or worthless had already been decided. The FSB would handle that part and do so with gusto. “There’s no need to permit their dangerous cancer to spread into our new lands.”
“The most dangerous prospect is that of a nuclear release,” Shalenko said. “The ABM system is good, but if there is one failure… disaster. Whatever it takes, we have to ensure that there is no permission for nuclear release.”
“That has been taken care of,” Margarita said coldly. “Whatever happens, no politician in a position of power will survive the opening rounds of the war.”
Shalenko nodded. “I have been speaking to the commanding officers and the soldiers,” he said. “Most of them are certain that they can handle the missions, many of them are looking forward to it, seeing that Europe was behind many of their woes in Belarus. The important thing is to keep moving; cities can be reduced later, but mobile forces must be destroyed as rapidly as possible. A pause could prove fatal.”
“I know,” Nekrasov said. He looked up towards the portrait of Stalin on the wall. Russians had both feared and loved Stalin; Shalenko knew that no one, apart from Nekrasov himself, had come close to the ideal of the Russian leader. “Are you going to be taking up your command in Belarus?”
Shalenko nodded. “I have a flight back tonight,” he said. “Time enough to ensure that everything goes to plan and that the Poles remain quiet long enough for us to take over quickly. Civilian resistance could put an unexpected spanner in the works.”
“If that happens,” Nekrasov said, “deal with it. No scruples.”
Shalenko bowed his head. “No scruples,” he agreed.
Near Warsaw, Poland
The fire was a tiny concession to the campfire atmosphere of the location, Robinson had decided, when Captain Jacob Anastazy had lit it. Nothing had happened in the week that they had remained in their position, nothing of importance anyway; the only excitement had been a flight of aircraft leaving Russia that had turned out to be civilian aircraft that had been routed away from the Ukraine. He missed Hazel, more than he could admit, even to himself; her sheer presence was missing from his mind. Emails… just didn’t come up to it.
Dear Hazel, he wrote, and concentrated on several passages designed to remind her of just what he was missing in Poland. I hope that you are enjoying yourself in Edinburgh and that you did get to see the McCalmans like you intended; I wish that I could have gone with you and the old man. How is he, by the way? Is he still nagging you about grandchildren?
The thought almost brought a tear to his eye. It was possible, of course, that they could have had children. He had just felt as if it wasn’t the time, even though they had been having more unprotected sex lately. Some of the soldiers were in their teens; they had never even thought of getting married, even if there were advantages in the army to having a wife. A couple of them were openly homosexual; Robinson didn’t care, as long as they remained within the rules of fraternisation. The British Army might never have quite adapted to the concept of homosexual behaviour, but as long as there was a manpower shortage…