Had there been a typical attack group of eight planes flying in their characteristic ‘circle of death’ formation, the Storm Birds might have put some credible damage on Fraenir. And if they had all come with RS-82 rockets, willing to brave those guns to get close enough to fire them, they might have done much more than harm. As it was, the Siberians had too few of these planes, being a backwaters front, with all the production needed so desperately on the real battle front to the west. But they had eyeballed the target, picked at it with their talons, and now the word went to the Captains of the Riga and Narva.
They were big ships, both in the same class at 200,000 cubic meter lift capacity, all of 840 feet in length. They had ten 76mm recoilless rifles, and six 105mm rifles each, allowing them to combine their fire to outgun Fraenir 20 to 16 in the 76mm category, and 12 to 8 in the 105s. The edge for the Germans would be those deadly 88s.
Captain Selikov was still on the Narva, the very same man that had taken Orlov and Troyak on a similar mission, appearing right in the middle of one of Volkov’s ill-fated raids. He was in command here, coordinating the defense over Ilanskiy with his comrade, Captain Ivanov on the Riga.
“A big fellow from the looks of it,” he said to his wheelman on the forward bridge gondola. He put his field glasses aside. “This has to be the same ship the Germans came in with earlier. Took the Andarva down, did they? Well now let’s see them try on a pair of hefty boys like the Riga and Narva. Up ten degrees and take us to 5000 meters. Signal Riga to follow.”
The game had begun with the mandatory struggle to achieve altitude on the enemy. But there had been survivors off the Andarva, and Selikov had taken the time to speak with them. “We climbed,” they had told him. “We had good altitude, well over 7000 meters, but they still hit us. There was a nasty top mounted cannon on that thing, and it’s a real bag buster.”
Maybe I’m going about this all wrong, thought Selikov. I heard three accounts of that battle, and they all said the Germans had a gun that could hit them well outside the range of their 105s. So if I want altitude, I want it with just enough of an edge to take their lower gondola mounted guns out of the fight. And I want it inside the range of my 105s. Normally we’d stay at least six or seven klicks out, but now it might be better to rush this beast, with all guns blazing. We’ll take hits. A ship like that has firepower, and by god we might even get blown out of the sky, one or both of us. But we’ll take that monster with us. Karpov won’t like that—trading a pair of battleships for one of the enemy. He’s enough on his hands holding off Volkov’s fleet, and every ship we have counts.
He could feel the tension on the bridge, with his new young navigator, Yuri Babkin, craning his neck as he looked over his shoulder to try and get a look at the enemy ship.
“Eyes on your charts, Babushka,” said Selikov, using the handle he had given the young man. “Is that weather front still prevailing from the north?”
“Aye sir. I make it four hours or so before we see a squall line forming up, but the sun will be down by then.”
“That’ll make for a cold night on the upper gun platforms,” said Selikov, “and likely a wet one too, unless we finish this business and find a nice tower to dock.”
He reached for his field glasses again, his eye catching a gleam as the other ship sided them, the sun to the west playing over the taut silvery painted canvass. They’re turning, he knew immediately.
“By god, he’s showing us his backside! Range to target?”
“Sir, I estimate 15 kilometers,” said Babkin. Then the Captain saw the other ship’s tail wink at him, and he knew they had fired. The round exploded much closer than he expected, and Selikov raised his eyebrows.
“That was inside two klicks,” he said aloud. “That’s the goddamn long range gun that took down Andarva, and it’s a real game changer. Why, he could stand off and pick us apart with a gun like that.”
“Helm, ahead full and signal same to Riga.”
Here we go, he swallowed. How fast can we close that range? He’s already nose away from us, and probably has plenty of speed up. There, he’s fired again….
“Range to target,” he said again, his face stern, voice steady.
“No change, sir. I’m still reading 15 K on the Topaz.”
“Crafty bastard,” said Selikov. “All engines to one third and Riga the same. He can match our speed and I’ll be damned if I’ll sit up here and let him take pot shots at my chin while he leads us off into that squall line up north. That’s what he’s planning. He’s waiting for darkness and the storm. It’ll foul up the radars, and he’d like nothing more than for us to go gallivanting off after him like this. No sir. We stay on objective. Signal Riga to take up her normal station two klicks off the towers at Ilanskiy. Babushka, take us back there. We’ll not chase him. The bastard will have to come to us.”
Selikov was a very smart man, for that was exactly what Hauptmann Linz was planning. He would come alright, but in a dark and cold hour of his own choosing, at the edge of a storm.
Chapter 2
“So what is this really all about?” asked Symenko, eased into his chair in the desk of his stateroom. “You come off that thing back there, the strangest looking flying beast I’ve ever laid eyes on, and you and your Marines pull a nice little trick getting all the way in here like this. Take me to Ilanskiy you demand, and no matter how politely you say it, all I hear is my death order.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” said Fedorov. “We have no intention of harming you or anyone else aboard this airship. This is just as it seems. I need a ride, and your ship is the only thing that can provide it at the moment.”
“Well, you can all be choir boys here and it won’t make any difference for my fate,” said Symenko. “I’m a dead man as soon as Karpov gets wind of what happened here. He already knows I was a turncoat once before. Now he’ll see this as colluding with the enemy, or incompetence at best. Either way, I’m a dead man. So before I get the bullet to the head, suppose you tell me what I’m dying for.”
“It’s too much to explain, Captain. Suffice it to say that I have business at Ilanskiy, and it’s imperative I get there as soon as possible.”
“What business? Certainly not any business Karpov has sanctioned. I may look stupid, but I’m not as slow witted as you might think. I was to pick you all up and ferry you to Ilanskiy. Then, right out of the blue, his lordship changes his mind. Instead I’m to take you into custody and haul your asses to Irkutsk. Then you pull this hat trick on my men. If it would make any difference I should have them all shot, since I’m to take a bullet soon myself. Misery loves company. But listen here, Captain Fedorov, I can do exactly as you wish and run you up to Ilanskiy, but what happens next won’t be so pleasant.”
“I said that once you get us their you’re free to do what you wish,” said Fedorov.
“Oh really? Do you have any idea what your compass heading has in store for you? Volkov has tried to get his hands on that place three times. He sent me to scout the place out last year, and that was when I made the acquaintance of his lordship for the first time. He’s not your sort at all—not nice and polite and reasonable sounding. He welcomed me aboard with a nice little honor guard, but had a gun to my head a few minutes after. Hell, I knew Volkov was throwing me to the wolves when he ordered me to make that delivery.”