Kirov II: Cauldron Of Fire (Kirov Series) Read Free Page B

fleet with such a bright future before you, it is
almost beyond belief.”
    “Future?”
Karpov’s voice was low and barely restrained. “What future are you talking
about, old man?”
    Volsky
brought his fist down hard on the thin wood of the table, and the sullen
Captain started with the unexpected blow. “Address me by name and rank,
Captain! You are talking to the Admiral of the Northern Fleet!”
    “Admiral of
the fleet? What fleet is this you presume to command now, comrade? We are one
ship, lost at sea, and lost in eternity. God only knows where we are now, but I
can assure you, the fleet is long gone, and there is no one back home in
Severomorsk waiting for us to return either. It’s all gone , Volsky. Gone!
Understand that and you have your fat fist around the heart of it. If you want
to understand what I did you need only open your hand and look at it. All we
had left was this ship, Admiral, and no one else seemed to have backbone enough
to defend her. If I had not taken command it is very likely that we would all
be at the bottom of the sea now—have you considered that? So do what you will.
Choke me. Shoot me! Lock me away in the brig!”
    He gestured
painfully at the door where a guard stood stiffly at attention, pretending to
see and hear nothing, a steel mannequin that nonetheless represented the
business end of the Admiral’s authority here—for that is what it had all come
down to in the end, a contest of authority between these two men, the aging
Fleet Admiral longing for the peace and quiet of retirement, and the hungry and
assertive scheming of his Captain, pushing always to reach that next rung on
the ladder of advancement.
    Karpov had
wrestled for control of the ship, and he had nearly succeed. Had it not been
for the timely arrival of Fedorov, coming as he did to the sick bay to find it
secured by padlock from the outside, the Captain’s plan may well have caused
even more havoc. In the brief interval while the Admiral had struggled to
regain his freedom and restore his authority on the ship, the Captain had
unleashed hell on the Allied navies that were closing in on them from every
side. And now they were living in some distant quarter of that hell, a region
of silence and eerie calm, where every shore they had come upon seemed blackened
with the cinders of war.
    The Admiral
looked away, still pained, his eyes unsatisfied. He stood up and stepped over
to the guard, speaking to him softly.
    “Right away,
sir,” the man said smartly, and then quickly let himself out of the door to
leave the two officers alone.
    Volsky
looked at Karpov where he sulked, head lowered, his elbows leaning heavily on
the table. Slowly, deliberately he pulled the chair back and stat down again.
He regarded his Captain with that same pained expression, waiting, but Karpov
seemed apathetic and indifferent to the whole situation now, resigned within
himself to any fate that awaited him. He had mustered all the courage at his
disposal in that heady moment when he first slipped the padlock on the outer
hatch of the infirmary, locking both Zolkin and the Admiral inside. Now he was
spent, empty, and there was nothing more than a dull ache in his head and an
awful sense of emptiness in his gut. A much younger man, the ordeal seemed to
have aged him, and his eyes were dark and deeply lined, so tired and listless
now as he stared at the empty table.
    “I don’t
mince words here,” said Volsky, “nor do I come here to shame you any more than
you have already shamed yourself. But mutiny is the word for it, and you must
stand accountable—as any man must—for what you have done. No… I will not choke
you, Captain, nor will I shoot you. Yet a good long visit to the brig is in
order, yes? It is clear that I cannot simply set you loose on the ship again
after this. What would the men think? I could confine you to quarters, but
first, the brig. Yes, the brig. You will sit there and contemplate, no doubt
for some time before