own.
“Is the submarine maintaining contact with the Americans?” he asked
slowly.
The aide nodded. “Yes, Comrade Vice-Admiral. The Americans have been
carrying out their routine antisubmarine operations, of course, but
there has been no indication that the Krimsky Komsomolets has been
detected. His captain is more concerned that the Turks may detect the
sub if he moves into the straits behind the Americans.”
“Not a serious problem, I think. The Turks are staying quite neutral
these days. The political situation between Greece and Turkey is still
somewhat, ah, strained. And that has had serious repercussions for the
Americans.”
Kulagin sniffed disdainfully. “They might have blocked passage,” he
said. “Denied the Americans the right to sail through their waters.”
“Turkey plays a careful game. They do not wish to cooperate with those
they believe to be allies of the Greeks, but they will not defy the
United Nations. Wheels within wheels within wheels, Anton Ivanovich.” He
held up his hands and shifted them rapidly back and forth, as though
juggling many precariously balanced objects. “The UN passes resolutions
concerning Armenia and Georgia, then asks the United States to help
enforce them. Turkey denies the Americans the right to base aircraft on
their soil, partly because they still dislike American policies in
Greece, but also because allowing it would further inflame Turkish
Moslem fundamentalists. However, the Turks agree to the passage of the
carrier through their territorial waters because if they do not, the UN
may not see their point of view when it comes time to discuss the way
the Turks have been handling their ethnic Armenian problem. Still, I
doubt they will share information or assist the Americans in any way, so
long as we do not force them to choose sides.”
“Doesn’t that rob us of our best chance to stop the Americans, Comrade
Vice-Admiral?” Kulagin’s eyes flashed. “They are vulnerable as they move
through the straits.” He moved his hands together, defining a narrow
space. “Concentrated. ..”
“If our leaders were willing to authorize a nuclear strike against an
American fleet in Turkish territory, perhaps.” Dmitriev shook his head
wearily. “Short of that, we cannot challenge them.”
“But surely a strike with conventional forces, Comrade Vice-Admiral-”
Dmitriev sighed and got up from behind his desk, moving to the window
overlooking the historic harbor beyond the waterfront below. Once,
Sevastopol had been one of the Soviet Union’s thriving ports, filled
with commercial shipping and the naval might of a superpower. Though the
harbor might now have seemed crowded to the untrained eye, Dmitriev knew
better.
His eyes lingered on the imposing bulk of the Pobedonosnyy Rodina, the
largest ship in the harbor. The sight of the nuclear-powered aircraft
carrier brought back mixed memories for Dmitriev, fond and bitter. Just
a few years before, he’d commanded a Russian naval squadron built around
another carrier, the Kreml, working together with an American carrier
battle group to keep India and Pakistan from escalating a conventional
conflict into a full-fledged nuclear exchange. Ah, those had been heady
days, back when Russians could still hold their heads high and proclaim
that they, too, were a superpower, despite anything the West might say.
But those days were gone now. Pobedonosnyy Rodina was the only aircraft
carrier still afloat out of the three commissioned with the old fleet,
and the rest of the Motherland’s naval power had shrunk proportionately.
Dmitriev had been rewarded for his loyalty to Krasilnikov with this
promotion to command of the entire Black Sea Fleet.
An empty reward. An empty fleet, impressive on paper, but rusting to
scrap as he watched, with few men left to man the few ships that could
still put to sea. .. and with a homeland that was tearing itself apart
in blood and bitterness.
His country was dying.
He gestured for Kulagin to join him by the window. “Even if we were
willing to add to the list of our enemies by mining or launching an
attack in Turkish waters, it would be a futile attempt. Look out there,
Anton Ivanovich. What do you see?”
“I see. .. the harbor. The fleet.” Kulagin sounded baffled.
“The fleet. The Red Banner Black Sea Fleet. During the Cold War we