Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series) Read Online Free Page A

lowered from above. It was as if he was crossing some
barrier now, between the real world he had known and lived in all his life, and
a world of twilight and mystery where everything he had ever learned was to be
called into question.
    He could feel the old and
familiar slipping from his grasp with every step he took, as if he was
forfeiting the safety and comfort of his old life, and the innocence of
unknowing that had been his before this moment, the propriety and civility of
an English gentleman’s life, the calm, rational framework that was the core of
his personality. ‘For I have known them all already, known them all: Have
known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with
coffee spoons…’
    Who was he, really? What was he?
How did he come to be here? These were questions that one asked of the night
and stars above, in quiet moments alone, in the solitude of inner thought. Now
it would all be called into question and profound doubt. Step beyond that
gunwale and onto the deck of chaos and uncertainty, he thought, but he pressed
on nonetheless.
    He heard the familiar high strain
of the boatswain’s pipe. Not one, but two Admirals would now walk the decks of
the mighty Kirov . An honor guard in dress whites awaited him, and the
Marines snapped to attention, bayonets gleaming at the end of their rifles.
    Admiral Volsky had gone first, so
as to welcome him again with another hearty handshake when he came up. “Please
walk with me, Admiral Tovey,” he said. “I will now give you a tour of the most
marvelous ship in the world—in this world or any other. You will see much here
that is familiar to your eye, the men below decks in their dungarees and
striped naval shirts, the sweat and toil of the matros , that we call our
able seamen, the mishman , or midshipman, the starshini , or petty
officers all falling to their evolutions to keep this ship running smoothly. The
bulkheads and hatches and ladders up and down will all feel like any ship to
you, but the places they lead you to will be quite different, quite astonishing.”
    They walked the ship, touring the
outer decks first as Volsky pointed out the broad domes covering radars and
communications equipment, and the ceaseless rotation of the Fregat system high
above them.
    “With that we can see out to a
range of 300 kilometers. You may not believe this but it is quite true.”
    “But that would be well over the
horizon, Admiral. How is this possible?”
    “I wish I could tell you that.
All I know is what I hear when my radar man, who is now the Starpom of
this ship, tells me when he reports a new contact.”
    “Starpom?”
    “Ah, that would be the name we give
to our Executive Officer, “Mister Rodenko. You will meet him when we visit the
bridge. But first, let us have a little stroll on the forward deck.”
    Fedorov could hear the pride in
the Admiral’s voice as he led Tovey on, and he felt it as well. This was,
indeed, the finest ship in the world. While he had passed moments of real
trepidation when Volsky proposed he would reveal their true nature and origin
to the British Admiral, now he had come to realize that this was inevitable
from the first moment they decided to remain here and intervene instead of
taking their chances again with the control rods.
    Admiral Volsky had the men attending
their party summon a missile deck engineer, and open one of the many hatches
there. The sharp, dangerous nose of a Moskit-II was seen waiting
silently in its vertical silo, like a sleeping monster waiting to be called to
life.
    “That is one of the missiles you
witnessed—actually not this particular model. This one is much bigger than the
rockets we used against the Germans. And now you will hear what I say next with
disbelief, but I will tell you the truth. This rocket can hit a fly on a wall,
and at a range of 222 kilometers, that is 120 of your English miles. The
warhead is 450 kilograms, nearly a thousand English pounds.”
    Tovey was