Three Kings

Sitting there aboard Abakan, thinking, Karpov knew what he would do in this situation, if only he had the power. In two years he had scratched his way into the good graces of Kolchak, but that man still had half the army facing the Japanese at Irkutsk. What remained here in the west was barely enough to hold the line. One of his best divisions, the 18th Siberian Rifles, was now invested at Omsk in the second battle his men had fought with Volkov for that city. The rail line east was cut behind the city, and now there was no way he could get supplies or reinforcements in except by airship. Behind that forward outpost, he still had four good divisions on the main line of defense along the Ob River, including his elite 32nd Siberian at Novosibirsk, and then there was the cavalry he had boasted about to Volkov. They were mostly north of Tomsk watching that flank. He had gathered his only reserve division, the 91st Siberian, here at Ilanskiy after Volkov’s ill fated raid. What was that man thinking? He threw two airships and a couple good battalions to the wolves here, all in a foolhardy attempt to take this place when he knew he could never hold it. Did he really think he could punch through and come all the way from Omsk to relieve this force?

No. He didn’t think that at all. In fact, he intended to throw me this bone all along- Symenko, the surly Squadron Commandant in the Eastern Airship Division of the Orenburg fleet. Yes, he was one ofDenikin’s old guard, the bald headed old fart who tried to lead the White movement in the Revolution. Volkov made short work of him, and easily took control, and all he was doing with this raid was cleaning out his cupboard and settling some old, unfinished business. Karpov understood that instinctively as well.

But the raid could not go unpunished, nor could the treachery Volkov had used as a prelude to this attack at Omsk. What he needed now was a nice big hammer to smash this nail, but how? He thought, musing on the awesome sight of the nuclear blast that incinerated the Naval Arsenal at Kansk. He had seen that when he went up those steps, and now he knew there was no going back that way. The war in 2021 was in its final death throes. That world was not going to survive the missiles and bombs in their thousands.

I could certainly make good use of one right now, he thought. That would stop Volkov’s offensive right in its tracks, but he knew where the only viable warheads on earth were at this moment-on the battlecruiser Kirov, the ship he had once commanded in that hour of destiny… so long ago it seemed now. The heated memory of that final moment on the bridge would still come to him from time to time, and the lashing rebuke of Doctor Zolkin’s words, the confused, yet stolid presence of Victor Samsonov as he stood up, refusing to obey, the last straw…

Yes, Samsonov was so mindlessly efficient at his post that it had seemed to Karpov the man was just another part of the ship itself. When he stood to oppose him it was as if Kirov itself has turned in rebellion, the weapon no longer willing to serve the warrior… He shook the bitter memory of those last moments with his comrades from his mind. Comrades? He sneered at that now. They were all traitors as well, no better than Volkov. One day he would settle that score, but he had other fish to fry now-Ivan Volkov.

He thought about that hammer he needed; about the arsenal at Kansk, and then an idea came to him, a devious, sinister thought of something he could do here that might suddenly change the balance of power. He did not have the warheads at his disposal any longer, and there would be no more until the Americans bumbled their way into the atomic nightmare five years from now. Yet he could create something that might serve his purpose very well here, and these old airships he commanded just might be the perfect way to deliver it.

The more he thought about this, the more he realized how easy it would be to do what he was now imagining. That thought rising in his mind like dark smoke, he turned to his Aide de Camp, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Summon all the engineers. Then tell Captain Bogrov to take us to the nearest fuel depot at Krasnoyarsk. He is to plot a course south toKyzyl, theKaa-Khem coal mine to be precise. Signal Big Red at Novosibirsk to head that way and meet us there.”

An idea was mushrooming up like a dark explosive cloud in his mind, and with the information he had in his computer jacket, he knew exactly what he would need to do.

Chapter 3

Several weeks later Karpov had what he needed. The engineers had worked day and night, in double shifts, and all under his scrutinizing supervision. He used the information in his computer jacket to determine exactly what to do, and was pleased with the results, particularly after the first test deployment on a hapless flock of sheep.

It worked as planned.