Steel Reign

Chapter 34

The Japanese had been quite busy on Sakhalin Island since they occupied it in 1908. They had settled most of the habitable land there, which was mainly restricted to coastal sectors and some inland valleys that separated the rugged, tree sewn mountains. It was largely considered to be a military zone, though a good number of Japanese civilians from Hokkaido had also migrated there, part of the work force necessary to build out the infrastructure. Over the years, they had improved existing roads and built new ones, established numerous airfields and expanded ports. One significant addition was the building of railroads to improve overland communications from north to south.

Cultural influence and civilian occupation was heavier in the south at Ezu Province, the nearest to Hokkaido. That portion of the island extended like a great crab claw, which opened to embrace Chitose Bay, the approach to the first of two major ports on the island at Otomari. The Siberians had once called that place Korsakov, but now it was thoroughly Japanese, a thriving commercial port augmented by the fishing port of Aniva 20 kilometers to the east on that same bay.

The island then extended north along the crab leg through Maoka and Shikuku provinces, with rail lines winding north along both coasts. There, another well established port at Shikuka presided over the wide curving coastal region of Taraika Bay. It had formerly been called the port of Poronaysk , and from there a single rail line ran north into the central inland valley between two rugged spurs of highland mountains. It would pass through South Karafuto Province, following the line of a long winding river into North Karafuto, the beginning of the oil development region on the island.

Here Siberian influences were more pronounced, and there were still large inland segments of North Karafuto that were largely uninhabited by the Japanese, the province of the Ainu, Orok and Nivkh tribes, which were very friendly with Karpov’s troops and worked for them in small guerilla groups, the local partisans.

The northernmost port worthy of the name was at Okha, where there was also considerable oil field development already underway by the Japanese engineers. Earlier that winter, Karpov had flown in what amounted to a single battalion of Naval Marines and a few supporting troops to seize the northernmost tip of the island, occupying an area extending about 50 kilometers south. Now, with the sea ice finally permitting approach to the region, he was out to seize all of North Karafuto, which extended all the way as far south as the port of Lazarev on the Tatar Strait. That province sat right astride the mouth of the Amur River on the mainland, and the port of Nikola there. Karpov wanted to control that, and all the Tatary Strait as far south as Lazarev.

With limited sealift capacity, he would only be able to move a single regiment and its supporting guns and supplies, but he had all four mountain regiments of the 32nd Siberian Division earmarked for this operation. It began on the 15th of May, three days before Kurita was to rendezvous with Kutaka’s carriers off Sapporo, so there would be no possibility for the Japanese to interfere with those initial landings aimed at Okha, which was all of 710 miles north of Sapporo.

Kirov was now standing off Okha, about 50 kilometers out into the Sea of Okhotsk, and so Karpov ordered Sergeant Troyak and his Marines to support the initial landing. Two KA-40s would be used, transporting all of Troyak’s contingent, and another group of twenty men from Karpov’s personal guard. Their mission was to land south of Okha, and seize the airfield the Japanese had built there, destroying any enemy aircraft they found. In spite of the growing threat, there was only a single company of Japanese troops at Okha, and when the Siberians transports arrived, they had no difficulty in getting ashore. Karpov soon had his port, and now the Naval Marines that had landed earlier were sweeping south to link up and complete his control of the northern segment of the island as far south as Okha.

Troyak and the other guard contingent then mounted up and took the helos due west to a point just north of Lupolovo on the west coast. The Japanese had two small airfields in the region, and they were to secure those, and then use the helos to keep an eye on the northern entrance to the Tatary Strait.

On the mainland opposite that strait, horsemen of the Bakshir, Yeseni, Ussuri, Amur and Siberian Cossack tribes were very active. They gathered in small battalion sized formations, securing all the vital roads and airfields in the region of the Amur River Mouth, where there was no Japanese military presence. The small port of Nikola would be secured without a fight, whereupon the horsemen, their mission accomplished, proceeded to loot the village and eat whatever food they could find in the region. It would be some time before Karpov moved regular units in there, but he technically had his access port to the lower Amur region, where he planned to eventually build up a considerable force for the planned move up that river.

South of Okha, two companies of air guardsmen had been lifted in by airships to take up positions and block enemy reinforcements. There they ran into a company of engineers, and numerous other small detachments that had been working on those southernmost oil fields. That was also the headquarters for the single battalion that the Japanese had posted in the area, which was now making frantic calls to the south that the invasion had begun. He was informed to hold his ground, destroy the oil facilities to prevent their capture if necessary, and that two battalions were already en route from the south.

Colonel Kumida of 1st Battalion, 25th Karafuto Brigade, slammed down the radio handset, enraged that the Empire had not taken this threat more seriously. How could his single battalion possibly defend all of North Karafuto Province? His five rifle companies were scattered all along the coast, and now, a deep shadow suddenly shrouded the scene, he rushed out to see the massive shapes of many airships overhead. The wink of fire from an undercarriage recoilless rifle was most unwelcome.

The remainder of the 25th Karafuto Brigade was itself scattered all over Sakhalin Island, each of the five battalions having a specific province to garrison. 5th Battalion was detached from that duty and was coming up by train from the south west coast, a region deemed unlikely to see enemy landings any time soon, but it was stopped near the village and airfield at Nogaliki, where a tribal partisan group had cut the rail about 50 kilometers south of Kumida’s position. He still controlled the major oil fields, with three of his rifle companies, an engineer company and a machinegun company, so he set about ordering his men to dig in near the main well sites while his engineers began to set demolition charges. Everything north of that area, all the way up to Okha, was indefensible, and his retreat south was already cut off by enemy troops off those damnable airships. Where was the air force?

It was well to the south. Given that the weather was always very bad in North Karafuto, none of the fields there had any aircraft assigned. The nearest Squadron was well south, at the northernmost end of the long inland valley, where the headquarters of the 2nd Battalion had been established to guard the rail line and the road to Aleksandrovsk on the Tatary Strait. There were three Shotai there, a total of nine Ki-27 fighter bombers, the plane the Allies would come to call the ‘Kate.’

The planes took off, soon running into a phalanx of airships under Karpov the Young, who had settled in quite nicely now as overall commandant of the Siberian Air Corps. He had six airships up south of Okha, and three more to the north. Odessa, Narva, and Novosibirsk began pouring out a hail of AA fire as the Japanese planes swooped down like jackals around a herd of water buffalo. Soon their fire was joined by Orel, Angara and Abakan, the 20mm top mounted guns proving very effective in discouraging those planes. A few Ki-27s made brave passes, with three quickly shot down, and the fourth seeing his machineguns seemed to have no effect on the unwieldy targets. Those self sealing gas bag liners were doing their job, and the Japanese would find it would take a much heavier cannon to put any real harm on the airships.

2nd Regiment of the 32nd Siberian followed the first into Okha on the 16th to begin pushing south along the east coast. On the night of the 17th, The Siberian Karpov informed his younger self that he would be lifting the 3rd Regiment into the Tatary Strait for a surprise attack on the vital ferry site at Lazarev. There the Japanese had a single company of Kumida’s 1st Battalion on the island side of the ferry, and the mainland side had been garrisoned the previous day by a company detached from 5th Battalion. That company held Lazarev itself, but by mid-day on the 17th the opposite shore had been taken.

Destroyer Maikaze had been anchored at Nayoshi, the only Japanese warship in the Tatary Strait at the time. It was quickly ordered north with orders to interfere with that landing operation, and interdict the ferry site. This was going to set up a little duel there, as the younger Admiral was in Tunguska, heading south to support those landings with two other new T-Class airships, the newest additions to the fleet, Siberia and Baikal. Maikaze had begun to shell the Siberian positions ashore when the air squadron began closing on the scene, their recoilless rifles primed and ready.

On the bridge of Tunguska, Karpov was thinking this would be a time to have Fedorov handy, but he was far to the north, on the other side of Sakhalin near Okha aboard Kirov. He wanted to know what kind of main guns this Japanese destroyer might have, then simply decided it would likely have something in the range of four or five inch deck guns. He was lucky the troops had all stormed ashore the previous night, because Maikaze also had 16 Type 93 torpedoes that would have wreaked havoc on the transports. But those six 5-inch dual purpose deck guns could also pose a grave threat to any of the airships, and Karpov was justifiably cautious.

He might put damage on the destroyer with one of his Koronet ATGMs. It would certainly penetrate, start a fire, or destroy any system it struck, but the warhead was only seven kilograms. These missiles were excellent bag busters against enemy airships, and he felt he would need many hits to truly mission kill that destroyer. He would also have to close to within 8 kilometers to fire, and that was well within the range of the enemy guns. In this instance, the best defense was his caution, and then he put in a call to Kirov on the other side of the island informing them of the situation.

As if sensing his brother self’s thoughts, the Siberian sat up higher in the Captain’s chair, suddenly alert. “Mister Nikolin,” he said, “anything to report on comm links?”

“Well sir,” said Nikolin, casting one eye towards Rodenko, as if checking to see if the Senior Lieutenant would give him any sign that he should make a report to Karpov concerning those odd signal intercepts. At that moment, his board lit up with an incoming call. Somewhat surprised, he toggled the switch and listened for the call sign. “Sir… I have Tunguska on the secure channel.”

“Very well,” said Karpov. “In my ready room.” He got up and strode to the hatch next to the chart room where he had installed a radio set for these special communications. There he soon learned that his brother wanted a missile.

“We completed the landing, but if that destroyer persists in the straits, it may put unnecessary damage on the ferry terminals and dock at Lazarev. I can feed you telemetry from our Oko panel and you’ll have a pinpoint on its position.”

“Good enough, and well done, brother. The operation is proceeding very smoothly, thanks to your able supervision. Standby. I will see what I can do for you. Siberian One, over and out.”

The Admiral strode back out to the bridge. “The ship will come to battle state one and make ready for surface target missile launch.”

“Aye sir,” said Samsonov, “sounding alert one and ready on SSM board.”

“Mister Rodenko, we will be receiving telemetry from Tunguska any second now. Feed it directly to the CIC.”

“Aye sir, getting a signal now.”

“Watch closely, Grilikov. This will be a good example of live fire action.” The big Sergeant was hovering near Samsonov’s position, where the two men often worked together now as Samsonov was training Grilikov on how to operate the missile launch systems. Grilikov settled into a chair next to Samsonov, and the two Goliaths hunched over the system board.

“Mister Samsonov,” said Karpov. “What is the range to the target.”

“Sir, I’m reading a single target at 228 kilometers—in the Tatary Strait, off Lazarev.”

“Correct. That will be a bothersome Japanese destroyer. It is right at the outer edge for our Moskit IIs, but the P-900s have the range easily. Sound inventory.”

“Sir, we have seven missiles remaining in the P-900 bank, including missile number ten.”

“Ready a single P-900, and fire. Set missile guidance to accept remote assist from the Oko panel on Tunguska on terminal approach.”

“Aye sir…. Missile ready, sounding launch warning and firing now as ordered.”

And that would soon be the end of Kagero class destroyer Maikaze, and a good number of her crew. The ship’s name meant ‘Whirlwind.’ It had sewn the wind with shells from its deck guns that day, unaware that a dangerous enemy was watching and waiting to strike. Now it would reap the whirlwind. The P-900 was effectively a cruise missile, and the longest range SSM in Kirov’s larders. Now there would only be six remaining, but the Japanese would have to trade a destroyer for that missile, and Karpov would secure both ends of that vital ferry site on the 18th of December.

Ryoko Otani was quick to spot the missile fire as the P-900 climbed to altitude for the subsonic cruise segment of its flight path. Takami was well out in front of Kurita’s task force, which was now slowly escorting the troop laden transports towards Karafuto. The safest and easiest port to debark them would be Otomari on Chitose Bay in the grasp of the lower crab claw made by the island. To screen them, Takami sailed off to take up station as a forward radar picket, well up the southeastern coast off a long spit of land that framed the eastern edge of Taraika Bay, called Cape Kira-Shiritoko. From that position they had a good look north up the long eastern coast of the middle and upper portion of the island. If Kirov moved south to get into any position to threaten the troop convoy, Takami would see that move easily enough.

The ship had assumed a stealthy EMCON mode, attempting to radiate as little as possible. Now that they were ‘in theater,’ a possible combat zone. Harada had ordered EMCON Alpha, total emissions silence. Since the SPY radar system was a passive phased array it could run in a mode known as ‘SPY-1 Silent’, and still receive and process signals radiated by the enemy, even while restraining its own signal emissions, and Kirov was radiating with no restraint, all over the spectrum, absolutely heedless of the fact that anyone might be out there listening.

The SPY system could see airborne threats out to about 175 nautical or 200 standard miles in this mode, and it wasn’t until the P-900 was descending into its terminal phase that Otani saw it, for it had just then come inside that detection range. It was there, there, then suddenly gone. The missile had descended to just a few meters in height, down on the deck to skewer the Maikaze, and was below Takami’s detection threshold when it finally struck home. But Otani knew what threats she might be looking for, and this one filled the bill.

“Con, radar. I just picked up what looked like a missile descending to sea skim mode. Sending coordinates to the CIC now.”

Chapter 35

“Understood,” said Harada. “Process it and tell me more. In the meantime…” He reached for the 1MC intercom to broadcast a message to all ship’s stations. “Now hear this, now hear this. We just got a whiff of our Russian nemesis out there, and it looked like they were already throwing some lead at somebody. Court’s in session and all stations will now come to order. For all you 90-day Blunders out there, that means rack time is over and it’s battle stations. I want everyone to emulate that time honored sailor of endless note—A. J. Squared Away. Do it now. This is the Captain. That is all.”

Harada’s time in training with the US Navy had seen him pick up a lot of the typical slang bantered about by their sailors. Now he looked to his radar station. “What was that contact, Lieutenant?”

“Had to be a missile sir. I’m figuring it was a P-900.”

“Get a line on its angle of approach?”

“Aye sir, just a few seconds, but it traces out to our estimated position based on SIGINT data.”

“Good enough. So who are they shooting at, and why all the way on the other side of the damn island?”

“Sir, that’s right at the Lazarus ferry crossing site,” said Michi Ikida, the ship’s navigator.

“So there must be an operation underway there,” said Fukada. They’d want that ferry site to establish communications with the mainland. It’s also the choke point on the strait. They can set up artillery there and then control access to the mouth of the Amur River from the south. How do you want to play this, Captain?”

“I don’t see anything we can do for that situation at the moment. Our watch is out here on the Sea of Okhotsk. The Siberians know that we’ll reinforce from Hokkaido, but they don’t seem too awfuly concerned about it.”

“They’ve accepted that in lieu of getting their own troops ashore in the north.”

“It sure seems that way. Well, once they are ashore, and well established, then they’ll push south. That’s when this Mizuchi comes south right along with them, and the fur starts flying. So this is my plan.”

He walked over toward the navigation station, looking over the map on Ikida’s screen. “We’ll move here,” he said, pointing to the long spit of land that framed the eastern edge of Taraika Bay. “We’ll take up station just west of that isthmus. We’ll know they are coming, but they won’t expect us here. Hovering west of that long isthmus gives us a little screen from their Fregat system. We stay silent, EMCON Alpha. But my bet is we’ll hear them coming like a bull in a China closet. They’ll be radiating, just like they are now, and when they get close, we get our friends to attack with any land based air power they have on lower Sakhalin. During that attack, we pop up a Sea King, and fix their location. Kurita must have his carrier based aircraft ready and also vectoring in on them at this time. With any luck they’ll just think it’s another plane. Then we throw everything we have at them, all eight Type 1 SSMs, and we keep our fingers crossed. Comments?”

“An excellent plan,” said Fukada. “But I have the icing for the cake. If we have them inside 50 klicks at that time, then we should use the deck gun as well. If not, then we should definitely use the rail gun.”

“The rail gun? It was meant for missile and aircraft threats.”

“True enough, but it can also lob that projectile out 200 Kilometers at Mach 7—and they can’t stop it. If we get a hit, it might be the equivalent of a 90mm gun for the damage it could do. There’s no explosive power, but it will damn well ruin any system it might hit on that Russian ship.”

“Very well, I’ll consider that. Anyone else? Mister Honjo, you’ve got the CIC. Any thoughts?”

“Just give me a target, sir. But I agree with what the XO says. If we go offensive, then we throw anything we have that might put damage on that ship.”

“Alright. Where do we want Kurita in all of this?” The Captain waited, but as expected, Fukada was first to answer.

“He’ll want to be aggressive once cut loose from that convoy escort. Those troops should be ashore by tomorrow morning. He’ll come looking for trouble after that.”

“Think we can dissuade him?”

“Why should we?”

“You want to expose those ships to a Moskit II barrage?”

“The more targets Kirov has to worry about, the better. I’d say we should let him sortie up the east coast as a fast surface action threat. Let Kirov take their shots, and then we can go after his SSMs—assuming they survive what we just discussed when we bushwhack them.”

“And the carriers?”

“They shouldn’t be anywhere near the action. I’d make a strong request that they operate from the lower Tatar Strait. Sakhalin Island will shield them from possible detection, but when they launch, those strike waves should fly due east, then turn northeast to overfly our position. They’ll have plenty of range. If they fly direct to the target, they’ll give away their bearing.”

“I agree, and I’ll see if I can make it so. Let’s just hope the Japanese cooperate. They can have a mind of their own, and as far as they are concerned, we’re just an auxiliary screening unit attached to Kurita’s group.”

“Well we need to get a handle on this. The way you have it planned, we might have a good chance to saturate Kirov’s defense. Maybe at least one of our missiles will get through. This is going to be interesting.”

“It’s going to be dangerous. Don’t anyone forget that. This is no drill, because if they get one missile through….” He didn’t have to finish.

Rodenko was the first to go to Karpov with the oddities discovered by Nikolin. The Admiral had been very pleased with operations now underway in North Sakhalin. He had dealt with that pesky Japanese destroyer, and his brother self concluded the seizure of the ferry site at Lazarus. Now he had the choke point on the Tatar Strait, and could position shore batteries there to prevent any further incursion by Japanese surface ships in the waters north of that point. This was important, because the next division he planned to sealift would go directly to the Amur River delta, where he would begin a buildup of forces there to secure that region and prepare for the drive that might eventually take him to Vladivostok.

On Sakhalin itself, he secured Okha, and then his tough Siberian troops quickly pushed south towards the oil fields. A battalion of the 25th Karafuto Brigade had been holding out there, with engineers trying to set charges. The fast moving Siberians stormed into the region, pushing swiftly through their resistance and securing the fields. Some sustained damage, but that did not matter. The oil was there, and it could not be destroyed. Karpov had what he wanted, and by May 22nd he had control of the top third of Sakhalin Island, as far south as Lazarev.

For their part, Kurita’s first objective in getting troops from the 7th Division from Sapporo to the lowermost Ezu Province on Karafuto had gone off unchallenged. Karpov, with limited sealift, deemed it essential that Kirov stand off Okha Harbor and protect those landings. If that meant he would permit the Japanese to reinforce from the south, so be it. His real intention at this stage was securing that valuable terrain, for there were airfields there that he could trade with the Americans like pearls for supplies and equipment.

The Admiral had been warned by Fedorov that the Japanese would have to respond to his incursions, but Karpov felt he could deal with them easily enough. “If they attempt to interfere with my landings, they will regret it,” he said. “At the moment, there isn’t even a whisper of protest from the Japanese Navy. Perhaps they’ve learned to fear and respect me, as they should.”

“Sir,” said Rodenko, “speaking of whispers. Nikolin and I have been trying to run down the source of some odd signals activity down south.”

“Explain.”

“Well sir, Nikolin thought he was hearing some high speed frequency hopping. That would be the kind of thing we might do in sending signals to friendly units with our equipment. But he thinks he located that traffic well south, so it wasn’t any activity from our sets in the airship fleet.”

“South… How far south. Mister Nikolin?”

“Sir, I first got a whiff of it two days ago. Rodenko was trying to help me by routing in a top mast antenna for better reception. Since we know where the enemy might be, I focused my search to the south, and set up a fingerprinting profile to look for anything suspicious in the traffic analysis. It’s been very intermittent, but a couple signals got my attention. They were in high frequency bands that would not normally be used in the 1940s, and they were hopping like mad. Someone didn’t want us to have a listen sir, and they had the means of protecting those transmissions with some very modern signals techniques.”

“Modern techniques. We are the only systems that could be called modern out here.”

“But they weren’t ours, sir. I’m certain.”

That got Fedorov’s attention. He looked over his shoulder listening carefully as Nikolin continued explaining what he had done, and then stepped into the conversation. “This is something we should pay attention to,” he said. “How frequent were these transmissions?”

“I’ve only heard three,” said Nikolin, “and nothing in the last twelve hours.”

“And the others?”

“All within this 24 hour period.” He handed Fedorov his SIGINT chart.

“That would be the time we suspected landing operations from Hokkaido were underway,” he said, looking to Karpov.

“Most likely communications related to that,” said the Admiral. “Well, we already know they’ve sent at least two regiments. It’s not a concern at this point.”

“No sir, it’s not the traffic, but the method of transmission here. Look at the frequency bands noted on Nikolin’s chart. Nobody uses those channels, and look at this data on the frequency hopping. That could only be accomplished by computer controlled electronics. It just isn’t the sort of thing vacuum tube equipment can do here.”

“You’re saying these signals were sent by modern day equipment?”

“Correct, and the fact that we can’t read them is even more of a red flag. Nobody in the Pacific should have anything even approaching that capability for signals encryption.”

Karpov’s eyes narrowed. “I see…”

“Sir,” Fedorov lowered his voice. “There are some matters I think we should discuss privately.”

“Alright. Walk with me, Mister Fedorov. I need some air.”

Out on the weather deck, Fedorov cleared his throat and set sail. “Sir, there are a few things you may not be aware of. While you were focused on building up your position here in Siberia, remember that Volsky and I had Kirov in the Atlantic.”

“How could I forget,” said Karpov, his voice laden with a tone that revealed some displeasure, though he did not take it any further than that.

“Yes… well you already know that Kirov was not the only vessel from our Russian navy to visit here. In the Atlantic and the Med, we encountered a few other… situations.”

“That has an ominous ring to it. What do you mean?”

“It’s a fairly long story, but seen as though you are an Allied head of state now, you may as well know it. There is another modern day ship at sea in the Atlantic, a British ship.”

“What? You mean a modern British ship of war?”

“Not exactly, but yes. This was a private ship, though it was purchased from the Royal Navy, a Daring Class Destroyer that was then heavily upgraded and modified to be a corporate security vessel for a small oil conveyor, a company called Fairchild Enterprises.”

“It’s here? Now?”

“That it is.”

“But how is that possible? We had Rod 25—that’s what moved both Kirov and then Kazan around, yes?”

“That and something more. Did you initiate a rod replacement cycle during your engagement with the 7th Fleet? No. It was in the Primorskiy Engineering Center, sending me on my little train ride to look for Orlov.”

“That was a very fateful ride,” said Karpov.

“It was, but the point I am making is that Kirov moved, and on that occasion there was no nuclear event involved either.”

“That Demon Volcano,” said Karpov, remembering it all now. One moment they were sailing in the massive ash fall shadow of a VEI Level 7 Ultra-Plinian Super-Colossal volcanic eruption, with tsunami driven seas and ashen skies that blotted out the sun itself, sending them into a limbo of brimstone and pumice—then they were suddenly cruising on quiet seas, with a strange tinge of green fire in the ocean, and pristine white cumulus clouds in an azure blue sky. The distant silhouette of the Kuriles was calm and undisturbed. There was no sign of the eruption at all….

“So large explosive events can cause time displacement,” said Fedorov, “and that volcano was one hell of an explosion. Your proximity to the volcano may have been the reason you fell through.”

“Yes,” said Karpov, “to 1945, and with Orlan and Admiral Golovko with me as well.”

“No magic control rods involved on any of those ships.”

“Alright Fedorov, you’ve made your point. What are you getting at with all this?”

“This ship we encountered in the Med came through somehow. I later learned that one cause could have been a missile strike aimed at its location in 2021. That aside, it was there, right in the middle of a rollicking fight with the Germans and Italian navies, and it’s still operating in the Atlantic today.”

“How very interesting,” said Karpov. “Then that could not be the ship responsible for these signals intercepts, could it.”

“Most unlikely.”

“And you were not secretly receiving a transmission from someone else using modern day equipment, eh?”

“Sir? Me?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Fedorov. You know that would be something I would have to consider. Volsky may be gone now, but you and the British became a nice little cadre there for a while—comrades all.”

“Well you can discard that notion,” said Fedorov. “I’m not secretly sending and receiving signals.”

“Could anyone else be doing so aboard ship?”

“Who? I doubt that very much, sir.”

“Then these signals Nikolin reported are coming from another source. Do you have any theories?”

“Well… There was just another major VEI 7 eruption at Krakatoa. Ships in the vicinity may have been affected.”

“Blown to hell, or elsewhere,” said Karpov with a grim smile.

“What I’m suggesting, sir, is that when there is a big event like that, the integrity of the continuum is profoundly disturbed. You fell through, along with Orlan and Admiral Golovko, and other ships could have fallen through during that event as well. But the key thing I’m trying to convey is this—if there’s a hole opening in time, things can go both ways….”

“You mean… things could fall into that hole from the future? How so? The explosive event occurred here, in 1942. I could see how it might blow away a nearby ship, but how could anything get here from some future time?”

“Well, if there was an explosion below decks, and it was powerful enough, it could rupture this deck—and you and I could fall through the hole. Understand? Krakatoa was a massive eruption. We have no way of knowing how far into the continuum its effects propagated. If it reached into modern times, our day….”

“I get the picture. What you are saying is that we could be looking at the possibility of uninvited guests.”

“We just may, sir. Something is out there on the VHF band sending signals they don’t want anyone else to hear, and using a method that requires modern electronics. We’d best be careful here until we know more.”

Karpov nodded. “Thank you, Mister Fedorov. Kindly send the order in to have the ship go to condition one alert. I think we’ll have a better have look around.”

Chapter 36

That was now what was on the mind of Admiral Kurita—get up north and have a look around. With the ice retreating, the Sea of Okhotsk was now open, and it was his charge to give challenge to the enemy by taking his task force north. Lieutenant Kobayashi reported to the bridge of the battleship Hiraga with the latest message from Takami. It was asking him to do exactly what he had in mind. Captain Harada was taking up a position in Taraika Bay up near the port of Shikuka, old Poronaysk under the Siberians. He had requested that Kutaka’s carriers move well west into the Tatar Strait and await a signal to then launch a strike wave and fly east to his position before being vectored north. Now Kurita was being asked to move north, up the east coast of Karafuto, towards the ongoing ground battle there.

Admiral Yamamoto asked me to cooperate with this Captain, thought Kurita, and as his mind and my own are in accord here, I will accommodate this request. Our troops up north will undoubtedly appreciate the sight of my battleships and cruisers off the coast.

For all his bravado, Kurita did not really have any idea what he was now going to be up against. The fledgling radar set that had been installed on Hiraga was incapable of ranging out to find the enemy ahead of him, or ever really effectively tracking its missiles. Kurita’s squadron was, in effect, like a group of near blind men with shotguns, huddled together and needing to get within close visual range of a target to fire at it. That was all they could represent, a possible close range threat against a modern ship like Kirov. They would not even know that ship was there, unless Takami fed updated position and ranging information in via that secure radio set.

Kurita had no conception of this. In his mind, he was aboard one of the finest battleships in the world, and the verbal admonitions of Yamamoto could not convey the danger he was now sailing towards. The inspection of the damage on Mutsu, however, had been quite sobering. He spoke with crewmen and officers from that ship, who told him of the lightning fast rockets Yamamoto had warned him about.

“You will see them easily enough,” said one man. “They claw the sky like Raiju, more terrible than the sky demon Itsumade. Yes, you will see them when they come, but there will be nothing you can do to stop them. Look how the fires consumed our ship!”

“Did you fire back at them?”

The man smiled. “There was nothing to shoot at. We never saw the enemy ship—only these terrible rockets.”

That gave Kurita pause, but he steeled himself. “Then they are cowards if they refuse to face you in battle.”

“That may be,” said the officer, “but here sits Mutsu, a burned wreck, and the enemy still commands the northern sea.”

“We shall see about that.” Kurita put on an outward face of bravado, but even the smell of the charred metal on old Mutsu haunted him for some time.

So now he sailed north, his watchmen straining to see through the misty dawn, his men ready for anything that might come. Yet he and his entire task force were merely bait, meat being thrown to the wolf. The officers of Takami were trying to get the attention of their adversary, and had asked Kurita to pose a threat, and then to withdraw upon their signal.

But that is not what would happen…

At the moment, Takami was sitting with its SPY-1D in silent mode. The system was unmatched insofar as radiation control in that stealthy listening mode. Those sensitive ears could detect and to some extent track contacts by receiving the target’s own RF emissions and also by receiving echoes from other third party sources that would reflect off the target. This was why Captain Harada had asked all the conventional strike elements to be very free with radio communications on their approach to Kirov’s suspected location, for even simple FM band radio could bounce off a target and be detected by passive radars listening for such a signal.

For much more precise tracking of a contact, the system would have to actively radiate its own radar pulses to illuminate the threat, but in doing so it would also give its own position away. Yet once clearly fixed on a target, the lightning fast chain of electronic reflexes would quickly pass information to the ship’s Command Decision System, (CDS), which evaluated threats and sent the data directly to the Weapons Control System, (WCS), all in a heartbeat. There was no handover to a separate targeting fire control radar, which made AEGIS so quick and reliable on defense. The system was extremely robust, as technology injections had kept it right on the leading edge of what was possible, and the Japanese had upgraded to the AN/SPY-1/D(V) incorporating improvements in eliminating ground and background clutter.

“Kurita looks to be in position,” said Harada. “They should spot him before noon.”

“Should we get the helicopters up?” asked Fukada. “We’re not going to see anything over the horizon like this. All we’ll get is a general location on the target, and we already know that much now.”

“We need him to come south. Maybe they’ll take the bait.”

“Why should they?” said Fukada. “They have over the horizon strike capability. What makes you think they’ll come south? And I don’t like our position here. We’re bottled up in this bay, and can’t maneuver north. Your entire plan rests on the assumption that they’ll come to us.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I think we should backstop Kurita—move into his wake. If he gets too far north, then we can’t cover him with our SAM umbrella. We should get out of here and move east and north immediately.”

Harada thought about that. “Honjo?” he said to his CIC officer.

“He’s right, sir. We’re stuck here, and I can only throw the SM-2 about 75 klicks north of our position. If Kurita gets any farther north, he’s hung out there on his own.”

“What about our ERAM 174s?”

“I only have half a dozen, sir. Everything else is SM-2 unless you want me to use the SM-3.”

“No, keep them in the basket.” The Captain took a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “We need a better fix on their location, but if we sent up a helo we’ll give the game away.”

“Playing possum here won’t even get us in the game at all if he hovers up north,” said Fukada. “That’s what I’d do. His mission is to protect his troop convoys to North Sakhalin, and control the lines of communication back to Magadan. Our mission, now that our own troops have landed safely, is to interdict the enemy operations. We just can’t do that here.”

Harada nodded. “Alright. I hear you. Let’s notify Kurita that we’re moving east into his wake. As for the carriers and land based strike planes, they can continue to hold until we give the word.”

It was that fleeting signal to the radio set on Hiraga that woke up Nikolin again that morning. He had been sitting, a bit bleary eyed, and wishing he had found some stronger coffee instead of tea that morning. But the COMINT profile module he had set up to listen for specific types of radio signals traffic was as wide awake as ever. The red light soon indicated that he had another fish in his net.

“Sir,” he said to Rodenko again. “I’ve another signal intercept. Looks like it was directed north, and a little stronger this time—same profile, short burst HF transmission with rapid modulation and hopping.”

Rodenko came over, looking over the data on Nikolin’s board, and then decided enough was enough. He went directly to Fedorov, who had the watch that hour, and reported. “Another signals packet intercept sir. Same heading and modulation. Someone is down there whispering again.”

Kirov had come south at 18 knots for the last 6 hours, radars sweeping the open sea and coastal regions of the long island. Now Fedorov thought it was time for a more active search.

“Mister Nikolin,” he said. “Send a message to the Helo Bay. I want the KA-226 ready for launch in twenty minutes—aerial search and reconnaissance. We need to have a closer look down south. Make sure they have the long range module installed for the Oko panel.”

“Aye sir.”

Fedorov gave Rodenko a look, but said nothing. He merely reached for the overhead intercom and punched up the officers dining hall. “Admiral Karpov, please come to the bridge.”

There would be no one in the dining hall to hear that call, for Karpov was up early and had finished his breakfast ten minutes earlier. He was already on the ladder up, and soon emerged from the main aft hatch, in what seemed like record time.

“That was fast,” said Fedorov.

“What? You needed me? Well, here I am.”

“We have a situation,” said Fedorov.

“Contact?”

“No sir, but more suspicious message traffic. I’m sending the KA-226 south to have a look around.”

“I’m still not sure what we think we might find there,” said Karpov. “But it will do no harm. Our operations here will soon be concluded. I have all three regiments of the 32nd ashore now, with supplies offloaded and the convoy withdrawing to Magadan this afternoon. This was a much easier operation than I first feared. I can relieve you now, Fedorov, if you’d care for a decent breakfast.”

“Sir, you have the bridge, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay and see what this recon operation turns up.”

That tickled some inner sense in Karpov, for he knew his first officer very well by now. Fedorov was worried about something, and so was Rodenko. The delicate sensory network of the ship extended at the very end to the nerves and synapses of the men who stood their watches. They were good men all, and very capable in the positions they held. He needed to pay attention here.

It was not long before the KA-226 began to find pieces of the puzzle. It had moved south with impunity, at an elevation of about 15,000 feet. At that height its Oko panel had a marvelous view of the sea in all directions, spinning slowly beneath the undercarriage of the helicopter. About a hundred kilometers south of Kirov, it obtained its first contact, another 200 klicks south, and began feeding the data directly to the mother ship.

“Five contacts,” said Rodenko, “in a fairly tight surface action group. No telling what they are at this point, but signal strength is good, and I’m guessing that isn’t commercial traffic.”

That was a very good guess, for the KA-226 was looking at the battleships Hiraga and Satsuma, with three heavy cruisers, Mogami, Mikuma, and Takao. Kurita had been found.

“Con, Radar has an airborne contact, bearing 375 north, range 280 kilometers approximate, and closing at 200kph.”

Fukada looked at Harada, a knowing look in his eye. “Someone is getting curious,” he said. “That has to be a helicopter.”

“Are we certain it isn’t a friendly off Sakhalin Island?”

“Could be, but they had orders to sit tight until we gave the signal for takeoff. And that contact is moving south.”

Harada rubbed his chin. This was not anything surprising. Kirov had helicopters available for recon and ASW missions, and this was undoubtedly one or the other. “They’ll be seeing Kurita by now,” he said.

“In another ten minutes they make us too,” said Fukada.

“But as far as they are concerned, we would just be another ship out here. If our EMCON is tight, we shouldn’t arouse any undue suspicion.”

“What if they get orders to eyeball the contacts. Some of those Russian helos have good long range optics and camera systems.”

“If he persists south towards Kurita we can make that call. Sure, we could take it down, but that would pretty much seal the deal insofar as who and what we are. The air strikes aren’t in position yet. We’ve got to coordinate this thing perfectly if we’re to have any chance of pulling it off.”

“Then I suggest we get those planes in the air,” said Fukada. “Every second counts.”

Harada nodded. Someone was out there strolling at the edge of the lawn, and likely to come right up the garden path and knock on his front door any minute now. He had to act.

“Lieutenant Shiota,” he said firmly. “Signal Hiraga—one phrase. Climb Mount Takami.”

“Aye sir.”

That was the prearranged signal to execute the plan. Land based planes would approach Kirov’s suspected position from the southwest, the wiggle of that jab in Harada’s mind. The carrier based planes would come due east to his position, then turn north. Once they got there, he would get his own helos in the air, use them to find Kirov, and vector the strike waves in. His only problem now was the need to close the range as quickly as possible, so he could bring that big right hand into the fight. The Type 12 SSM could only range out 120 kilometers.

“Sir,” said Fukada. “We should get a helo up as well. If we stay passive, it should still get a good fix on their location.”

“And if they tag our Sea King?”

“Sure, they’ll see it, but it will just be an airborne contact. They would probably assume it’s just a seaplane. We’ve got to know where they are to have any idea how much sea room we’ve got to eat up here. We need to nail down the range to target, and fast.”

Harada had written the score, but now it seemed that Fukada was conducting the orchestra. He was much more on edge than the Captain, and his reflexes prompted him to take some action. They weren’t going to win this thing by simply playing possum.

“Agreed,” said Harada. “Let’s get Whisky-T in the air and have them move as far north as Kurita. But I don’t want them bumping noses with that bogie out there. You’re right about those cameras on the Russian helos. Helm—ahead full and steady as she goes.”

“Aye sir, engines ahead full and steady on.”

It was about to begin.

“Con, airborne contact, low and slow, bearing 180 south of our helicopter.”

Karpov came over, eyeing the contact on Rodenko’s screen, all telemetry being fed by the Oko panel on the KA-226. The helo had been loitering, watching the approach of Kurita’s task force, but now Karpov was concerned.

“A single plane?”

“Looks that way sir,” said Rodenko. “Could be a seaplane off a cruiser.”

“Or a carrier.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” said Fedorov joining them. “If it was a carrier there to cover that forward group, they should have combat air patrols up by now.”

“This could be exactly that, the first plane to take off.”

“Well, the KA-226 is in no danger at this point,” said Fedorov. “They would have to get within visual range.”

At that moment, Nikolin spoke up again. “Admiral, sir. There it is again. COMINT profile has just picked up another transmission—very short burst this time, and aimed directly north.”

“North?” Karpov’s eyes narrowed. “Then it wouldn’t have originated from that forward group of five contacts. Who would they be signaling? It had to come from this ship here.” He tapped the screen to indicate the lagging contact. “They’re sending orders of some kind. That is a command ship, perhaps a flagship calling the shots. Very interesting.”

Rodenko was looking at his data very closely now. “You may be correct in that sir. The forward group has just increased speed by at least ten knots.”

Karpov looked at Fedorov. “A little cavalry charge,” he said with a grin. “Very well, I’m going to assume that is a surface action group up front, and that they are now attempting to close on our position.”

“How could they even know we’re here?” said Fedorov.

“Oh, they know we’re up here alright. They certainly won’t have a good fix on our position, but they know what we’ve been doing off Okha, and they’re sending this little group in to try and interdict our supply runs. It looks like the lesson we gave them off Kamchatka needs to be repeated.”

It was then that the situation took another twist. They all saw it, the red light on Rodenko’s board, and then the new contact winking on from the southwest.

“Airborne contact,” said Rodenko. “Three… five …. No, it’s looking like a good deal more, I have 15 contacts now, but they’re dispersing into multiple groups of three.”

“Shotai,” said Fedorov quietly.

“Mister Fedorov?” Karpov gave him a glance. “A strike aircraft?”

“A three plane formation, sir. That’s what the Japanese name a sub flight within a squadron—Shotai.”

“Look now, sir,” said Rodenko. “There’s another group—nine planes. The bearing is slightly off. I don’t think they really know where we are.”

“But they’ll be fanning out to search,” said Karpov. “That’s what this dispersal is all about.” He shook his head, having seen this so many times before, from the British long ago, and now the Japanese. “The ship will come to air alert one—S-300 system.”

Rodenko punched the alarm, the jangled nerves of the ship tightening up the sinews of war. Everyone on the bridge straightened in their seats, sitting taller, more alert. The tension was obvious, except around Karpov, who seemed completely calm and deliberating.

“The Japanese Navy,” he said, somewhat disdainfully. “So here they come at last, only they have no idea what they are getting themselves into. This time we teach them with the hard stick of war. Here they come, sewing the wind with their silly little planes. Now they reap the whirlwind.”