“Don’t you understand what’s occurring here, Comrade Tartarov? Not only am I protecting Sea Devil’s vulnerable flank, but I’m also winning back the confidence of my crew.”
“It sounds more to me like the only thing that you’ve won for yourself is a court martial. Captain.
Your actions are inexcusable, and if we live to survive this unauthorized intrusion, I’ll personally see to it that the only vessel that you’ll ever command again will be a garbage scow on Lake Baikal!”
The captain stood firm.
“That might be your opinion, Comrade Zampolit. But I’m certain that my fellow naval officers will see things in a different light. Every CO knows that sometimes one is forced to deviate from the standing order of the day when faced with circumstances that threaten the security of one’s command.
An individual would have to be blind not to see the dangerously low level of the Ladoga’s morale. Was I just supposed to sit back and watch this condition worsen? It was getting so bad that I actually feared a mutiny!”
“Surely you’re overreacting. Captain. I’ll admit that there are several members of the crew whose esprit de corps is lacking. But these handful of individuals don’t threaten your command. They are only a small bunch of confused malcontents, whose loyalty I was hoping to win over during this afternoon’s Komsomol meeting.”
“To hell with another of your damned meetings!” spat the frustrated captain.
“The time of useless talk is over! As far as I’m concerned, the only way to get this crew back solidly behind me is to lead them into battle.
This way they’ll all too soon realize that as valued members of the Red
Banner fleet, they are just as good as any Spetsnaz operative. It’s no wonder they’ve been looking at themselves as mere taxi drivers, because that’s all we’ve been until now. I’m as sick as they are of constantly playing second fiddle to our esteemed comrades in the special forces while they earn all the glory. It’s time to show the Defense Ministry that we too are worthy of their trust. The Ladoga is a proud ship, and we’re more than capable of assisting Sea Devil as it penetrates these highly sensitive waters.”
Hardly believing what he was hearing, Petyr Tartarov shook his head.
“I am indeed sorry that you feel this way, Captain. Regardless of your personal opinions, you are still guilty of breaking a direct operational order.
I implore you to come to your senses and reverse our course before it’s too late. Otherwise the consequences to your long career will be most detrimental.”
“There will be no turning back, Comrade Zampolit!
And as far as my career is concerned, the moment my crew lost trust in me was the moment it ended. I only pray that it’s not too late to win them back. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to the attack center.”
Only when the captain had left the weapons console altogether did the sweat start pouring down Petyr Tartarov’s forehead. Doing his best to staunch it with a handkerchief, the political officer reluctantly contemplated his next course of action. There was no doubt in his mind that the captain had suffered some sort of serious mental breakdown that would necessitate an immediate change of the Ladoga’s command. Yet he couldn’t merely stroll into the attack center and order the captain’s replacement. He would need support. And for this he would have to appeal to the members of the Komsomol. As loyal Communists, surely their vision would be clear, and they’d understand that a change of command was a vital necessity in this in342 stance. With this hope in mind, the political officer left the cork-lined cubicle to begin the unpleasant task of organizing a mutiny.
Above the cold, dark-green waters of the Firth of Clyde, the morning sun strengthened, gradually burning off the mist that had previously enshrouded the estuary in a swirling white veil. From the wheelhouse of the tug, Bernard Loughlin watched as the rolling green hills came into focus. Even the cold-hearted Irishman had to admit that this sight was an inspirational one.
The scenery was especially majestic on the left side of the channel. Here the tree-covered hills extended all the way to the water’s edge. An occasional cottage and small covered dock was the extent of man’s presence here, and the one-eyed terrorist supposed that it would be good to live in such a beautiful place.
From what little he had read about Scotland, he knew that it was primarily a pastoral country, with vast tracts of undeveloped wilderness. The Scots themselves were a proud, independent people, who had a cultural identity separate from their British occupiers.
Yet unlike the Irish, they were apparently content to allow their ancestral land to be absorbed permanently into the United Kingdom.
Bernard knew of several Scottish separatist groups whose goals were much like their own. The IRB had hoped to stir these individuals to action by daring to break into Edinburgh Castle and make off with the country’s symbolic royal regalia. Such a heist would have generated an intense wave of nationalism that would have spread throughout the countryside. And for at least one disturbing moment the peoples of this land would remember what it was like to be a true Scot once again, independent of the imperialistic yoke that had long ago stripped them of their identities.
Though the robbery went sour, the hand of fate had given the Brotherhood one more chance to kindle the fires of Scottish separatism. Bernard still had trouble believing that in only a couple of hours the despised monarchy that had enslaved this land and his own as well would be no more. Erased from the earth in a nuclear fireball, the Queen and all she stood for would be gone for all eternity. Like slaves who had been shackled for generations past, the people would rush in to fill this sudden void. And as a result, a single Celtic state made up of the countries once known as England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland would come into existence, united by the bonds of non-sectarian Socialism.
When Bernard first founded the IRB, never in his wildest dreams did he think that because of his efforts alone, such a state would come into existence. Their possession of the nuclear device made this day possible, and his only regret was that he wouldn’t live to see his sacrifice bear fruit. Yet in its own way, his martyrdom would cement the movement and make possible the great social revolution that was about to engulf the land.
The sound of someone approaching broke his deep pondering.
“Hello, Bernard. Doc says it’s time to spell you.”
Barely aware of the passage of time, Bernard nevertheless stepped back from the wheel and allowed Sean Lafferty to take the helm.
“Keep an eye out for those marker buoys, and keep out in the center of the channel whenever possible, Sean. Don’t hesitate to call down the minute something doesn’t look right to you.”
As Sean answered these instructions with a mock salute, Bernard affectionately patted his comrade on the back.
“How’s your shoulder holding out, lad?”
“It’s still throbbing, but I’ll be able to carry my weight, Bernard.”
“You’re an inspiration to all of us, Sean Lafferty.
Your country will soon be very proud of you.”
With this curt comment, Bernard left the wheelhouse and climbed down the short ladder that led directly onto the tug’s stern deck. Before going below and having some tea, he walked over to the transom. Stored in the locker here was the battery and cable that they would use to detonate the bomb. Though he had already checked its condition several times since leaving Dundalk, he couldn’t resist giving this gear another look.
“We have that surface contact, sir. Bearing three-five six range two miles.”
The sonar operator’s revelation reached Captain William Foard as he was gathered around the chart table with Mac and Colin Stewart.