Three Kings

Karenin gave him a sallow look. He was a young Junior Lieutenant, and this was his third cruise with Gromyko, a man he admired greatly. He had been in on the wartime channel traffic when Kazan had participated in the general sortie by the Red Banner Fleet under Karpov, and he was thrilled when they had successfully ambushed the American CVBG Washington battlegroup. Everyone had heard of this Karpov, and knew he was a hard fighting Captain, a dangerous man. The news that they were now ordered to go after Kirov, flagship of the fleet, had shaken him, as it had many others on the crew. The thought that they were going up against Karpov and Kirov was scary, but if anyone could, it would be Gromyko, the Matador, as all the men in the silent service called him now. The Captain was a master of undersea warfare, the most experience sub Captain in the whole fleet.

Then came the startling truth of what was really going on. He was still somewhat dazed by it all, even as the ship’s equipment seemed dazed, unbelieving, unwilling to admit what was happening. When Gromyko asked him that last question he realized it was another thing that had been bothering him-the silence. He could not hear the deep, ominous rumble of the volcano in his headset like Chernov, but the silence on the communications bands was just as dreadful. He should be hearing fleet signals from Vladivostok and Naval Headquarters Fokino. He should be picking up the cold encrypted chatter of the enemy as well, but there was “Nothing sir.” He said it aloud even as he thought it. “I get no signals traffic of any kind.”

Chapter 11

“Nothing?” Gromyko thought it must be due to the time shift, as he had been briefed. The boat’s systems might take several hours before they were normal again, or so this Fedorov had told him. But as soon as they could, they were to activate that coded signal beacon and try to make contact with Kirov. Ten minutes had passed in that silence. Young Karenin had not heard a whisper back.

That could mean nothing, thought Gromyko. The ship could be out there, adrift in the silence and enfolded in that black soot from the volcano. Then again… It might mean Kirov had not made it to this time and place with Kazan. Admiral Volsky had warned him this was likely to happen. One ship or another might arrive first-perhaps we’re the first ones home, he thought… or the last. What if Kirov appeared here earlier, and the ship and crew were all now a part of that silence out there, all a part of that inky darkness he saw through the periscope cameras? He didn’t want to think of that just then, but he remembered the training he had received in submarine school, so long ago it seemed.

“You men in the undersea boat service will most likely be the only survivors if we ever have to ask you to do your jobs.” He could still hear the warning his instructor had given the class upon graduation. “So don’t be surprised if you poke your periscope mast up one day and find there is no one else-nothing there-all the world gone to hell while you were chasing other enemy submarines beneath the sea.”

That thought gave Gromyko a shiver. He looked at the other men, and he could see the same questions in their eyes as they looked back at him. He was the Captain. He was supposed to know, and the decision as to what he would now do with Kazan lay with him, feeling leaden in his gut as he mulled it over.

Admiral Volsky had given him a quiet whisper before they parted company. “We’ve seen the world this war leaves us before, Gromyko. Believe me, you will not want to see it twice. If you should get there, and find Vladivostok a blackened hole at the edge of the sea… Then you will have quite a decision to make. If you don’t hear our beacon call, it may be that we are late. But it could also mean we are gone, Gromyko. In that instance, you will be the only man alive with the power to prevent what you see out there-the power to try and keep the world from ending. That’s a great deal to put on your shoulders, but you must know this. You can either sit there and watch the radiation count every time you get near the surface, or you can do something about it. With Rod-25 you have that chance-the chance to go back and change it all one more time-the chance to prevent that damn war from ever happening.”

That reminded him to check his radiation monitors, quietly, with only Belanov noticing and knowing what Gromyko was up to. What he saw convinced him that they were the ones who had arrived here too late. The readings were dangerously high, and he gave Belanov a quiet order. “Take us down below 200 meters,” he said. “Make it look routine.”

“Aye sir.” Belanov waited until Gromyko drifted away again, back to Chernov on sonar. Then he gave the quiet order to the helm. Ten degree down bubble,” said Belanov. “Ahead one third. Make your depth 200 meters.”