part0053

Captain Samuel Wood had heard that his old friend Francis Drake had just made another kill, and now he was thinking to even the score and stay in the race. Drake had a very new boat, HMS Anson , and Wood had one of the first really good attack boats the Royal Navy commissioned, HMS Trafalgar . So he would show them the old girl could still dance.

He had been creeping up on the leading Chinese task force, and now had a frigate in his no escape kill zone, about five miles out. It was the Type 056 corvette Guangyuan , out well ahead of the Vietnamese group as a forward picket. Sonar had contacts on many other ships, but they were over 15 miles away.

That was a small 1500 ton vessel, usually used in littoral waters like this. The formation was just 50 miles west of the Riau main island. The ship had hull sonar, but no towed array, and it had slowed to just five knots.

“Very well.” Wood now assumed the frigate might have heard them, and even though its only ASW defense was a pair of triple YU-7 torpedo mounts, it would have to get within two miles to use them. He decided he had better dispatch the ship quickly, and then maneuver. He gave the order to fire.

The 80 knot Spearfish crossed the four miles to the target in little time, and the 300kg warhead blew that corvette off the sea. Seconds later, the sound of active sonars reverberated through the depths, a moaning chorus under the sea.

Sonar updated their report, and Captain Wood knew this was a dangerous situation. He was being hunted by a Z-18, not the less efficient Z-9, which only had short range dipping sonar. The Z-18 was bigger, and would be able to lay a web of sonobuoys to help locate his boat, so he had turned to the north east, trying to get into the wake noise of all those surface ships.

They would hear three more buoys drop, this time off the starboard side of the boat, as Trafalgar slowly crept on at five knots, sweating. The water here was very shallow, with the bottom just 240 feet down. Wood was hugging that bottom, also hoping to take advantage of ground clutter to make it more difficult for sonar to get a reading on him.

“Steady on,” said Wood. He had killed the Mountain God, Type 055 destroyer Shanshen , sunk Type 052D class destroyers Changsha and Hefei , killed the older Type 051 destroyer Shenzhen , and 054 class frigate Xuchang . Now Guangyuan was the smallest fish to become ensnared by his undersea net, but he would take the credit for his seventh confirmed kill, and still glowed with the knowledge that he had also put two torpedoes into the carrier Zhendong , and drove it to port. That outstanding record had just brough him neck and neck with Captain Drake on HMS Anson , and from the sound of all that active sonar looking for him, there were still plenty of fish in the sea.

Orlov had not been well the last few days, and after toughing it out, he eventually went to see Doctor Zolkin. The diagnosis was merely fatigue. War needed many servants, and Orlov was Chief among them on the ship, assigning all the work details, training evolutions, inspection teams. The only things below deck he didn’t have to worry about were the reactor section, which was Dobrynin’s realm, the Damage Control teams, which came under Byko and the engineers, and of course, the Marines. That said, he was still often in and out of the Helo Bay, to see to some loadout required or make sure the ordnance teams had moved things where they belonged.

Whenever the ship made port, his work continued, and sometimes redoubled, because he was supervising all the missile reloads and replenishment of the main magazines. It seemed there was never any time for rest, but now Zolkin admonished him to take some time off, and get a good meal. He gave him something to help him sleep better, which was another thing that was often difficult any time the ship was in a battle zone. Missiles could be fired off at any hour, and the ship would quaver with alarms and the sound of men moving to battle stations. It seemed to him that Karpov’s wars would never end.

Orlov remembered that it was only a few weeks ago in real time since he had conspired with Sergeant Silenko, and Ivan Volkov, deep in the can with them as they plotted to remove Karpov from command. It had been that visit to the Northern Shamrock that changed things.

Karpov must have gotten wind of the plan, he thought as he eyed the buffet. Yes, he must have known that Voronin was coming for the ship that night in Severomorsk. And Volkov made me a lot of promises, but what does it matter now? I was to have my salary doubled, and bumped up to Captain of the 1st Rank, but none of that happened. Volkov was just using me. He had no real authority to promote me, and even if I did get that extra money, what would I do with it? It seems we are forever at sea, always looking for a fight somewhere; always looking for war.

He took some cold cuts, fresh bread and cheese, and a smaller bowl of the soup, which was really a beef stew that day. Then he tromped over to a table, and was thinking to sit with his back to the Admiral, before he thought twice. He then sat down, twenty feet across the room, and dipped his bread into the thick soup. It seemed the Admiral was lost in something he was reading on a pad device, oblivious to the fact that Orlov was even there. That, of course, reflected the resentment the Chief had long harbored with Karpov, who seldom ever spoke with him, unless there was something extra he wanted done that day—more work. He was very surprised, then, when he heard the Admiral call out his name.

Karpov was finishing up, standing and going to the bar for a little more tea. He filled his glass, and Orlov thought he would just leave, but he was very surprised, and somewhat let down, when Karpov approached his table.

“Chief… I was meaning to sit with you a while, and talk. In fact, when I learned you had been to sick bay, I told Zolkin to send you here for an early meal. Things have been… difficult these last weeks, and particularly since I got that news of my brother from Siberia.”

“But that is not the only reason,” said Karpov. “Nor will I lay it all on the Gods of War, though we have been a little busy since the Chinese came south again. No… It was this business with Voronin, and Volkov, and yes, with Sergeant Silenko and yourself.”

The silence after that was thicker than the soup. Orlov shifted uncomfortably. Not knowing what was coming next. He thought he had skated out of that situation, because Karpov never imposed any disciplinary measures on him for his part in all of that. Here it comes, he thought, pursing his lips and waiting for Karpov to continue, his eyelids narrowed.

“Chief, Fedorov came to me and let me know what happened. It was that damn Ivan Volkov. He’s the man that was behind that business all along. First he tried to get rid of Troyak, and managed to move in some security men disguised as Marines in Silenko’s squad. Then he sent Voronin, that pompous ass, but he soon learned that he wasn’t going to throw his weight around here, not on this ship. Orlov, it was Volkov behind it all, and he tried to recruit you to his side of the fence with a lot of promises. Yes? He wanted to use you to get more men on this ship.”

“Do you? Do you really know what you did? Chief, when Voronin stuck his ass in my chair on the bridge, and refused to budge, I had to order Samsonov to remove him. And by God, the man pulled his service pistol—right there on the bridge! You know what happened next? Every man on that bridge stood up and squared off to Voronin, and you could see fire in their eyes. Yes, a lot of clenched fists up there, even with the junior officers. I’ll tell you what, Chief. That felt damn good. I did not expect it—not Voronin with his pistol, or all those men standing to back me up. I never realized how the crew felt about it all, about me I suppose, until they stood up like that. Loyalty, Orlov. On a ship like this, if the officers and crew give that to me, it’s Gold.”

“No Chief, quite the contrary. I’m going to ask you to stand up here as well, just like the others. If you have issues with me, so be it, but you’re a senior officer here. If you can’t stand up for me, then stand for the men, for the ship, for Kirov . I know I give you the short end of the stick, as they say, and all too often here. There’s a lot of work to be done, and I look to you for most of it. Aside from this business with Volkov, I have no complaints—you get things done. But every man on this ship has to really stand up now, because every other day we’ve got missiles out there with our names on them.”

Orlov nodded, but said nothing. Karpov stroked his chin, thinking a moment. “Chief… We call you that, but you are really a Captain of the 2nd Rank. I hear Volkov promised you a leg up to Captain of the 1st Rank. Then you learned he had no authority to do that. Clever man, Volkov, but he’s also a liar. Well, I think I’ve overlooked you too long, undervalued you. Yes, I’ve taken you for granted, and you never got the respect you deserved for the things you get done—for all the hard work you do. That changes now. So I came over here to tell you this. For the outstanding manner in which you perform your duties as Chief of Operations, you are hereby given that promotion that Volkov never really had in his pocket, but I have the authority, and I even went to Admiral Volsky with this as well. Yes, you can trade those four thin stripes on your cuff for one nice thick one now, and you can put a third star on your shoulder. From this moment on, you are officially Captain of the 1st Rank.”

“Indeed, and that comes with a new cabin in the officers’ quarters section. Choose any vacant room you wish. It also comes with a raise in salary, and that will be retroactive two months, so it will be enough to double your normal pay next period. I know it isn’t much, but some day we may actually get to go ashore again like we did in Japan, and actually spend some of that money. Chief, I want you at my side. I want to know I can rely on you, and that the ship and crew can all rely on you as well. You can have a tough hand on occasion, but now that third star is going to give you just a little bit more of the respect you deserve.”

Orlov raised his eyebrows, slowly realizing what was happening here. Yes, Karpov did have the authority to do this, and Volsky put his name to it too. He had been six years working up from Captain of the first rank, stuck on the second rung of the ladder for a good long time. Now he would finally get to the top, and be a real Captain.

“Ivan Volkov said the same thing to you, yes? Well now I say it, only this time, I can make it stick. I gave the quartermaster orders this morning to send you a new service jacket, dress uniform, and Captain’s cap. And Chief, if there is anything you want, any request you might wish to make, feel free. You have my ear, any time you have anything to say. Come to me here, and we’ll eat together sometime. Or if you are on the bridge, sound off when you have something in mind. You’re a full Captain now, and your opinion matters. Please act like one. Make us all proud.”

“One more thing,” said Karpov. “You are now at the top rank for senior officers, and just one more step up to a Rear Admiral. As you will still be Chief of Operations, I am thinking you need some support. So I want you to look over the roster. You know the men well enough. Select candidates for your operations staff, and then start delegating some of the drudgery of the work load you carry to them. Be careful, and thoughtful. Choose men you know you can rely on. Then start moving things off your shoulders, and task those men as you see fit. You are a supervisor, and that should be more the way you see yourself now with this promotion. I know I can count on you, and I will count on you. Come to me with five names, and Volsky and I will look them over and select three—but I want your recommendation on that, first and foremost. If there is one you feel strongly about, let me know.”