Three Kings

“Ah, I understand sir.” Rodenko looked back at his screen. The reason Volsky had ordered battle stations was now quite evident. If this ship came from the same world they had left behind, it was their mortal enemy.

“Well,” said Volsky. “They must be having a conversation very similar to this one on their bridge right now. Let us see if we can diffuse what could quickly become a most unfortunate engagement, because if they fire on this ship, I will be forced to do the same. Mister Nikolin?”

“Chief says no unusual reading or maintenance procedures, sir.”

“Very well. Send a message using standard NATO frequencies and format. Identify us as the Russian battlecruiser Kirov, and request weapons tight for parley. And get a message to HMS Invincible on a secure channel. I want to speak with Admiral Tovey as well.”

“Parley?”

“Yes, gentlemen. The first defensive system we initiate will be our words and human reason. That failing, we get what we have been sailing in all these many months at sea, the madness of war.”

“Incoming message, sir!”

“What is it Mister Thomas?” Captain Gordon MacRae was not expecting this.

“It’s using standard NATO format, sir-a request for open communications link from… the battlecruiser Kirov!”

The surprise redoubled. “Kirov? That was the bloody ship Elena had told him about, the Russian behemoth that had been raising hell, moving in time, wreaking havoc on the history.

“Mother of god,” he breathed. “What is that thing doing here in the Mediterranean? Mister Dean, kindly ask Miss Fairchild to come to the bridge, and state we have a most unusual situation at hand-an emergency.”

“Aye sir.”

“Mister Thomas. Open communications, and put it on the bridge intercom. The ship’s personnel will stand to, all systems.”

The alarm sounded, and that would put some fire in Fairchild’s feet, thought MacRae. In the meantime, he looked to his radar man. “Well that explains it, doesn’t it?”

They had also picked up the electronic signature of the Russian ship, and had been debating what it meant, just as Volsky had predicted. Now the truth was unequivocally clear when Nikolin’s voice came over the ship’s intercom.

“Kirov to any ship bearing SAMPSON radar. Do you copy? This is a comm-link from Admiral of the Fleet, Leonid Volsky, requesting weapons tight for parley.”

“The big brass is aboard,” said MacRae. “And they want to chat before we start lobbing missiles at each other. Fair enough. Get Mack Morgan up here as well, and signal go ahead Kirov, standing by.”

“Aye sir.”

Fairchild was through the back hatch, up from the executive suite, her eyes wondering what was amiss. She could see the earnest attention of the bridge crew to their systems. MacRae was sitting in the blue Captain’s chair, and Executive Officer Dean was standing right behind him. A medic crowded in behind her, offering a brief salute before taking up his post.

“The ship, mum,” said MacRae. “That Russian monster you’ve been talking about.”

“Kirov? Here?”

“About 370 kilometers due west at the moment by our latest reading, just inside our maximum radar coverage zone. They want to parley, but shall I get the X-3’s armed and airborne in case manners fail us here?”

Elena thought quickly. Kirov, Geronimo, It was right here! Could this be the reason Admiral Tovey had encoded this date and time for their displacement to the past? Were they meant to find and deal with this ship, once and for all. She knew that Kirov was a well armed, deadly opponent if it came to a battle. The side that fired first would have great advantage. Now she realized that the men aboard that ship must be as surprised to find Argos Fire here as she was. They were standing like a pair of gunslingers at fifty paces, and if she launched those X-3s it might give them more weapons to put in play, but it would also be like a man slowly moving aside his overcoat to expose the sidearm on his hip.

“Have they launched helicopters?”

“No mum. They’ve requested weapons tight.”

“Then no movement on the X-3s.”

“Admiral Volsky aboard the Russian battlecruiser Kirov requesting weapons tight and parley. Please identify yourself and respond, over.”

“Announce ourselves, Mister Thomas,” said Elena. Then she leaned in to MacRae. “If it comes to a fight here, what are our chances?”

He just looked at her. “It won’t be pleasant, for either side.”

“Sir,” said Healy at radar. “Getting many more seaborne returns now. Surface contacts just west of the primary, but no IFF signatures.”

“No signatures? How many contacts?”

“A good number. I read two ships, close by the primary. Five airborne contacts, then multiple ships in column. I’m reading at least twenty ships, more resolving as we approach.”

Argos Fire was moving at 30 knots due west now, as MacRae had turned to investigate the IFF contact some ten minutes earlier. “But No IFF data? That’s odd.” He looked at Elena, explaining.