“Jammed? Not possible,” said Karpov, giving Fedorov a sideward glance. “How could they possibly have anything that could bother our systems?”
That was a short lived assertion, no matter how true it might have been at one time. After Krakatoa, the Japanese suddenly had plenty to bother a ship like Kirov, and now, to Rodenko’s amazement, systems and electronic reflexes that had been idle for months suddenly perked up and began reporting an alarming train of information. Light after light began winking out new signals data, and the internal profiler was analyzing and reporting.
“What in God’s name? Sir, I have emissions profiles on I/J band frequencies… Analyzing…. This is impossible. It’s reading AN/SPG-62! And look here sir, we’re getting S Band emissions and the system is profiling that traffic as AN/SPY-1D, and I have three other signatures.”
“What are you saying?”
“This is crazy, sir, but That’s the emission profile for an Aegis class destroyer or cruiser. We’re being painted by long range target illumination radar!”
“An AEGIS destroyer? Nonsense. Here? Now?” Karpov looked at Fedorov. “Could we have shifted?” That was the first thing that came to his mind as his own internal systems sought to analyze and profile this impossible emissions traffic report. Clearly none of those emissions could be happening here in 1942, but the ship had a long history of pulsing—moving in time, and sometimes with little fanfare or sign that they had even shifted.
Fedorov looked around them, his eyes scanning the horizon, eyes narrowed, thinking. “Do we still have the helos?”
“Aye sir,” said Rodenko. “The 226 is still being jammed, but the KA-40 we just launched is clear, and I have a good telemetry link. That has to be the feed on these signals emissions, and I’m making the contact right here, just south of that surface action group we hit.”
“The goddamned command ship,” said Karpov. “But it’s clearly something much more. Fedorov? Sun and moon still where they should be? Anything amiss?”
“Not that I can see,” said Fedorov. “We’ve still got a line out to both our helos, and that surface action group is still hot and strong on the board. So my guess is that we haven’t shifted.”
“Rodenko,” said Karpov. “Could our system be malfunctioning, reporting false positives?”
“I’ve run diagnostics. With one errant signal, I might take a second look, but I’m now picking up five separate radar systems, and the KA-40 is pretty sure what it has by the tail out there. Look here, sir.” He read aloud now from his board data logger: “Bear 6 has been classified as DDG 180, Improved Atago Class. Admiral sir, this is an AEGIS equipped destroyer, JS-Takami, and the contact is hostile. Range, 80 nautical miles; bearing 180 true.”
That was all it was going to take for Karpov. Mystery or no mystery, he was all business now. The impossible could wait for further analysis in the after action report. Something was out there, jamming a modern day Oko class radar set on the KA-40 and writing its name all over the microwave frequency spectrum. If this was a system error, he could call himself stupid later. Now was the time to act. If it was a an error, all he would lose were the missiles he fired now. Every instinct in his body tensed up and told him he should barrage that target with no less than ten missiles, and make them hot. The one strident protest within him that refused to believe this could be happening gave him brief pause, and he lowered the missile count.
“Rodenko! Activate all offensive and defensive ECM systems at once—Bell Bash, Bell Nip, Bell Thump, Wine Glass—light them up! Samsonov. Put the S-300 system on full automatic, weapons free on any missile contact reported. Then put four Moskit-IIs on that contact immediately!”
“Aye sir. Four missiles ready and targeting Bear 6 now.”
“Fire!”
Kurita Group, Sea of Okhotsk, 20 May ~14:20
Takami had put all eight Type-12 missiles in the air, but traveling at just under the speed of sound, they would only get half way to their targets before Karpov’s anger found its way south on the hot tail fire of those four Moskit-IIs. Out on the weather deck of Haruna, Admiral Kurita had been watching the dizzy display of fireworks high up as Kirov’s S-300s had leapt upon the incoming air strike. Now the watchman called out another sighting, and he looked to see more rocket trails, this time coming from the south! How could this be possible? Were there two enemy ships, another behind him? Then he realized that these must be weapons fired from Takami, and that thought lifted his spirits.
He recalled his briefing with Admiral Yamamoto. “Scout well,” the Admiral had told him, “and to aid that effort, I am attaching a very special ship to your task force, the cruiser Takami… a very secret ship, something entirely new. Do not think that the Siberians and Russians are the only ones who have developed this new rocket technology… it was designed as a fleet defense ship. Most of its rockets are meant to be used against enemy aircraft, or against the rocket weapons this Mizuchi flings at your ships.”
Better late than never, thought Kurita. Those rockets must be trying to catch and kill the enemy rockets, but from what I can see, they move much too slow, and they are too low on the sea.
He watched them move in a stately trail one following another, eight in all, their tails bright with fire as they passed his ships and continued north. Then like a train coming in the opposite direction, he saw more missiles from the north, one, two, four in all. The two groups passed very near one another, yet had no argument.
They continued on about their deadly business, passing one another, with bigger fish to fry. It was then that Kurita realized these must be after exactly that—bigger fish. His own ship had already been targeted. Now Takami had fired eight rockets at the enemy, and four enemy arrows were moving swiftly away to the south, undoubtedly aimed at this secret new cruiser Yamamoto had told him about. These ships are fighting one another! Mizuchi hurls its fire at Takami this time, and it is terribly fast, much faster than our rockets. Yet how can they even see one another? My horizon is completely empty in all directions, except for those rockets. There is nothing on the sea at all. Is Takami simply firing blind? Surely it can have no idea where the enemy is now.
DDG-180, Takami, Sea of Okhotsk, 20 May ~14:24
“Vampire! Vampire!” yelled Otani. “Multiple contacts inbound—I read four missiles. Range, 20 nautical miles and closing fast.”
“Hello,” said Harada. “Well, the interval of surprise is over, gentlemen. They obviously know enough now to get serious. Stand up the SM-2 system and engage those contacts. Set all laser and Phalanx systems to full automatic, weapons free.”
Only four, he thought. I’d have doubled down on that salvo. But they have more in the cupboard than we do, and will likely fire again soon. For now we had better just hope we can stop those four vampires.
“Lieutenant Otani, what are we firing at?”
“SA-N-22B sir—Sunburns. We should be seeing them any minute now.”
Twenty nautical miles, thought Harada. That is too damn close. Now he waited, the tension mounting second by second as his forward deck was awash with defensive missile fire. The SM-2s would go out one by one, with two assigned to each target, and AEGIS carefully watching the results to retarget any missile to a new Vampire if needed. He saw something bright flash like lightning to the north, and realized the Laser system had already taken a shot. This was just too damn close for comfort.
“Call the tune, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, yes sir!” Otani’s voice carried the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline carefully controlled, the effect of all those many hours training at her station in drill after drill. This time the weapons were free, hot, and this was no drill.
“Laser Reports a Miss—recharging. SM-2 has locked on lead target and detonated. Splash Vampire 1! Wingmate is redirecting to new target… attempting to lock on… No good, sir. Wingmate has missed, but missile three has the target and is tracking true. Hit! Splash Vampire 2.”
They had fired eight SM-2s in defense, but they were
not all needed. They had two misses, and four kills in the first six off the deck. The last two ran blind, saw nothing more to argue with, and self-destructed as programmed.
Battlecruiser Kirov, Sea of Okhotsk, 20 May ~ 14:30
“They just took down all four of our SSMs,” said Samsonov with a sheepish look on his face. “I have no telemetry on any missile.”
That removed all uncertainty from Karpov’s mind. Whatever doubt that remained was crushed. All the puzzle pieces fit to paint a nice clear picture.
We got strange signals intelligence from Nikolin on HF transmission bands that could not be read. Something was capable of jamming our Oko Panels on the helos, and Rodenko’s contact profile tells me exactly what it is—a ship also capable of shooting down a Moskit-II moving at well over Mach 2 on terminal approach. There was a modern day AEGIS class destroyer out there, and I have no doubt that we are now under attack.
There’s no time to wonder how it could have happened, he thought. Perhaps it was just as Fedorov suggested when he gave me that quiet little warning. So if they are out there, and this is still 1942, then we had better get serious. If that ship went to active sensors, it was because he wanted to fix our position to fire. In fact, he probably fired some time ago, well before I let those Moskit-IIs go.
“Mister Samsonov,” he said, his voice leaden, and deadly serious. “What is that ship carrying in the way of offensive missiles?”
“Sir, if it is standard loadout, it would have either eight Type-90 SSMs, or perhaps the newer Type-12.”
“Weapon characteristics…”
“Sir, the Type 90 is a high subsonic cruise missile with low angle approach—a sea skimmer, sir. Range 150 kilometers, with a 225kg high explosive warhead. The Type 12 is similar, but with extended range. Both use inertial guidance systems and deploy active radar on terminal approach.”
“Very well, please tell our S-300 system we’ll be expecting bad company any minute now.”
No sooner had Karpov said that when Rodenko’s board sounded the alert. “Missile warning! I’m now reading eight contacts inbound at 20 nautical miles. Top Plate, Top Pair and Round House TACAN confirm. Range now 17 nautical miles and closing.”
“Sir, S-300s firing now!” Samsonov would not have been quick enough to toggle and tap out orders for sixteen S-300s to get out after those missiles. The system on full automatic was far faster, and it was already doing its job. Hatches opened on the forward deck, and the long deadly missiles were up and on their way, one after another. On Rodenko’s radar they fed out from the ship like a long string of pearls, but this time the targets would not be so easy to hit. Kirov’s SAMs had been the terror of aircraft in this era, finding them without fail, their radar cross signatures simply too huge to miss, their speed so feeble that tracking and killing them was almost a certainty. This time, however, the targets were coming in very low, and relatively fast, with much smaller radar profiles, and all in an environment that was now suddenly alive with the harassment of ECM systems on both sides.
The first two S-300s were going to miss, but the third scored a hit, taking down the lead SSM. The odds of a hit were about 80% against a modern day SSM like this, and now they were further reduced by the sleek target profile, its inherent stealth, and the environment in which the engagement was taking place. The once infallible killer was now a hit and miss defensive system, but then it knew that, and its computers had been programmed to dish out ordnance required to saturate the barrage with defensive missiles. S-300s continued to answer its call.
The fourth missile scored the second hit, and its three underdeck cell mates took out one more. The first eight missiles had scored three hits the first time through the lineup, a good day for a baseball team, but not for a ship when 225kg warheads were being thrown at your head. You had to get each and every one of those missiles, without fail, and so the system opened yet more cell hatches on that long forward deck, and let the S-300s fly. Twenty missiles would go out in this defensive volley, two each assigned to the two contacts Rodenko now could ID as helicopters, their radar signatures giving them away in the clutter of other incoming Japanese planes. The other sixteen missiles would all go after those incoming SSMs.
It was going to be very close. They took down three more, and the last two were now penetrating inside close defense circles. It was coming down to the last two missiles against two defensive SAMs, and those odds were not good.
Karpov had been watching the whole engagement play out on Rodenko’s screen. “Get them,” he said, his teeth clenching. “Get the damn bastards.” He was slowly raising his hand, preparing to order Samsonov to switch to the Klinok system, where he had enough missiles to make those two intruders look like a porcupine when he was done with them. It would not be necessary.
Missiles 18 and 19 ran true, and each would log a kill that day. By the time they did, the sky south of the ship was a broil of contrails and explosive red orange roses as each S-300 detonated, either on an enemy missile, or by committing seppuku for the dishonor and shame of having missed its assigned target. The booming reports were heard far to the south by Kurita where he watched on the weather deck of Haruna. He was much closer to the action, but remained in doubt as to the outcome of the battle. Aboard Takami, however, they knew in with that last explosion that they had risked everything, and failed. They had stalked the tiger, achieved surprise, taken Kirov by the tail, but now they were about to learn something they could learn in no other way.
Takami’s SSM bays were empty.
Kirov’s were still full.
Part II
Achilles & Hector
“No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate.
And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it,
neither brave man nor coward, I tell you—
it’s born with us the day that we are born.”
― The Iliad: Book 6, Hector
Chapter 4
Battlecruiser Kirov, Sea of Okhotsk, 20 May ~ 14:36
“How many S-300s remain?” asked Karpov coolly.
“Sir,” said Samsonov, “I have three missiles in cell number eight. They will be the last for this ordnance.”
“What?” Karpov looked over at him, surprised. “Only three?”
“Sir, we have expended a total of 29 S-300s in all actions to date. Three remain, but we still have the S-400 cells completely full, with another 32 missiles.”
“S-400s?” Karpov looked at Fedorov now, lowering his voice. “What is this, Fedorov? The ship sailed with 64 S-300s. We only got the S-400s after we returned to Vladivostok.”
Fedorov had a concerned look on his face. “It seems something has changed,” he said sullenly.
“Changed? How very interesting. A nice little windfall, as the S-400 is a much better missile. In fact, we only took out the old S-300s the first time because the Navy was trying to get rid of that inventory. Our live fire exercises seemed a good way to use them. Well, I’ve certainly put them to better use here.”
He stopped, seeing that look on Fedorov’s face that he had come to know only too well. The two men were off by the Plexiglas situation board, where the positions of all the contacts were displayed in green and red symbols, updated in real time from information fed by the radar sets and processed by Kirov’s SA computer module. Situational Awareness was always the first order of business. You could not fight an enemy unless you first knew where he was, what he was, and by extension, what he was capable of.
The news that he now had 32 of the much more efficient S-400 missiles under deck was encouraging, but Fedorov had that look that spelled trouble. “What is wrong,” said Karpov. “You look like someone just told you your grandma died.”
“Something has changed,” said Fedorov, keeping his voice low. “You are correct sir, the first ship arrived here with 64 S-300s, but apparently not this time—not in the second coming. Neither of us ever stopped to check on something like that. Everything on the ship seems as it was. In fact, You and Samsonov even d
iscussed the missile inventory earlier, the S-300s. You told him you were pleased when he reported inventory on hand after each missile expended.”
“Yes… I recall that now.” Karpov turned. “Mister Samsonov, do you recall our earlier conversation regarding the S-300 Missile inventory?”
“Yes sir.”
“Didn’t you report the inventory at 61 missiles after those first expenditures?”
“Sir? I was reporting on the S-Class missile system as a whole, which can hold many different missile types, the S-300 base model, S-300F, S-300 FM, S-300-PMU-3C—which was redesignated the S-400.”
“Of course,” said Karpov. “As you were. Mister Rodenko, any further threats?”
“None sir. Nothing on my screens, though I’m getting some long range clutter from the southwest now. It looks like formations of aircraft.”
“Range?”
“140 nautical miles.”
“Time for that in a moment,” said Karpov, thinking. He gave Fedorov another glance. “Still worried about something?”
“Well,” said Fedorov. “That should not be the case—those S-400s. Something has clearly changed with this second coming, and that means that we caused it to change.”
“We caused it?”
“Who else? It had to be a consequence of our actions prior to July 28th of 1941, and that is a very disturbing thought.”
“Mister Fedorov, Russia is fragmented into three states, the Germans took Moscow, Gibraltar, Malta, and they are landing on the Canary Islands. You are worried about a variation concerning these 32 missiles?”
“Yes, sir. Those other things are certainly much more significant, but they are here, now, in this timeframe. That is a wave of consequence that is still underway and moving forward very slowly—in real time, if you will. But for a change to have migrated all the way forward to 2021 when this ship departed Vladivostok—that is something I find very alarming.”
Second Front (Kirov Series Book 24) Page 3
