Captain Svedrov folded the papers neatly and placed them in the small desk safe, twirling the wheel a few times to make sure it was locked and secure. He changed into a clean uniform, as he knew his Admiral would be doing at this point. They would present a fine, almost urbane appearance to their staff, and the word would spread through the force that Admiral Kupinsky and his Captain Svedrov looked as though they were on holiday in Leningrad, preparing for a stroll through the Gardens of the Summer Palace.
He found Admiral Kupinsky leaning on the railing on the port-side catwalk above the flight deck, watching the launch. Lenin was unlike an American carrier, for the VTOL planes simply lifted off the deck vertically, pointing their noses first down slightly, then upward as their powerful single jet engines increased thrust for takeoff. It was noisy but had none of the drama of the American launch, with the planes being flung violently forward, steam hissing and catapults slamming into their stops.
But Alex Kupinsky saw drama in this event. Two mighty oceangoing forces were about to engage each other for the first time in forty years. The previous engagements by aircraft or submarines were simply softening-up exercises, feeling out the opposition. This would be truly a three-dimensional battle, air, surface, and undersea all at once. Continents were at stake. One country should emerge a victor without a land battle. Men and ships were immaterial in the face of national goals. It was sad in a way that time had brought this disregard of human life and that political ambitions overrode human consideration.
"We should be in flag plot now, Admiral. They are so close that we could be under attack at any moment."
"Ah, Svedrov, you have found me." He turned, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "Stay here for a few moments with me and watch the last of the planes take off. They know I am up here, and they have waved. It will be good for them to see you, too."
They saw the last of the Forgers and Rigas head skyward. This time the aircraft were near enough to their target so that they could stay close to their stations for awhile. This was preferable to the earlier long-distance quick run and return to avoid running out of fuel. Now half of the aircraft were armed to protect the other half. The latter would be making attacks on the surface ships. With the submarines and the surface ships in the area, the Admiral felt that the coordinated attack, would require less air-to-surface missiles, and he wanted these pilots to have a better chance than the last air group. But he feared there would be a ring of carefully guided steel surrounding Nimitz. "All right, my friend, let's join the others in plot. I'm sure David Charles is planning much the same things we are, and I need you to coordinate our defense today. We must save Lenin at all costs, and I'm sure they do not have the surprise for us that we have been saving for them. We have a superior air defense, but they have a great many more aircraft to sacrifice."
Svedrov paused with his hand on the door leading into plot. "You may be sure I will do everything within my power, even to sacrificing the little ships if necessary, as you said." His face was sad and serious.
"I know. That's why I picked you. We will stay close for the next few hours, for they will be the most important in our lives." He extended his arm courteously to his aide as the other man pulled open the door, politely gesturing for him to enter the darkened room first.
"Attack and fighter aircraft launched from Nimitz, sir." He saw the appropriate dots on the board in one color, the approaching submarines in another. Soon a third color would show the cruise missiles he anticipated from the surface craft leading this Task Force 58.
"Lenin has launched aircraft, sir." The announcement redirected David Charles's attention for a moment as he saw the dots move out from Lenin. Right now, however, he was more concerned about the Soviet submarines. They had to be held under by the antisubmarine groups or they would have the opportunity to fire missiles from beyond the surface force's range of detection. Once the subs got closer, the smaller ships could handle them.
"Admiral, those Russian planes are doing pretty much what we're doing ourselves. They're heading for high altitude."
"I was fairly sure that would happen, Bill. The logical thing for the Soviets to do is wait until they can fire simultaneously from three separate geometric locations. Their weapons are designed to do the same as ours are, and their countermeasures are similar also.'We'll have less opportunity to identify individual missiles, select a weapon, and bring them down if they come from the air, the surface, and from underneath all at the same time. With each one operating on a different frequency, thank God it doesn't confuse the computer."
The ships around Nimitz had been stationed with exactly that assumption in mind, and they were assigned sectors for each type of potential attack. The decision of whether to coordinate each sector defense from the master computer or to assign local control to Aegis-configured or even individual ships would come from Bill Dailey. David planned to keep as far from the individual details as possible. He had to evaluate the flow of action, planning his attack around the success of his defense, releasing a ship for total offensive capabilities only when he felt it was not needed for defensive purposes.
"Fighters in contact, sir. They're being fired on by Forgers."
"Remind them their primary targets are the Rigas." He knew the Rigas had been armed to attack Nimitz, and his Tomcats couldn't waste all their missiles on the fighters as Alex wanted them to. Charles's advantage was more aircraft in reserve to attack the Rigas once the Forgers had expended their missiles. But he couldn't ask the pilots to dodge missiles without firing. He had told them in the ready room what they had to do, and they were brave men. "Remind the group leaders to conserve their ammunition. Wait a minute, belay that. Don't tell them a thing!" They were grown men who knew their profession. He would let Bill Dailey do his job and stay out of it. "Sorry, Bill, I always get excited on first contact. Go ahead."
"Yes, sir." He picked up a speaker phone resting near his left arm. "Relax all EMCON. They're on top of us now. Designated ships commence radiating on enemy frequencies." Now those ships he had just directed would begin electronic warfare procedures, emitting signals to distract enemy radar. It would show carrier-size targets in place of an actual destroyer, creating false targets. They would also jam guidance radars attempting to lock on American ships, and fire rockets filled with metal foil that would confuse acquisition radars. The first step had been to meet the attacking aircraft halfway. The second was to confuse those that got through. Now the computer would take over the air attack, assigning targets to perimeter ships, identifying missiles fired at the surface force and assigning ships to bring them down, and finally releasing a ship in extremis from computer control.
Bill Dailey's next move was to check remaining time on station of the helos assigned to hold down submarines. It was important to ensure that relief was at the site before the first helo left. Otherwise, the subs could surface, fire cruise missiles, and dive again in a short time. The responsibility for this phase was turned over to the staff ASW officer, who accepted control with the flick of a switch on the panel before him.
The surface-picture responsibility was retained by the master computer and displayed for Admiral Charles and his Chief of Staff on the huge boards before them. The Soviet force had changed little since the display had been set up more than an hour before, although it was evident that some of the ships in the flank had moved up well ahead of Lenin. "What are those ships moving up, Bill?"