Liberators

Task Force Oscar

Chapter Thirteen: Task Force Oscar

Aboard the submarine K-331

Somewhere in the Barents Sea

October 8, 2008 0005 local time (October 7, 2008 2105 Krakozhian time)

Despite the apparent success of the Krakozhian submarine flotilla, it was a little known fact that there were only five submarines operating in the theater. The small size of Yerotsk Port simply couldn't accommodate more than that number, and the engineers rebuilding Renechev Port had only managed to clear one pier for use by naval units. Images of the ports full of ships were merely propaganda to boost morale in friendly forces and strike fear in the hearts of their enemies. But all that was about to change, albeit just a little.

The Krakozhian Navy had commissioned a new submarine, the K-331, just a few months before the declaration of war against Rivymiyitevko. It was a French Rubis-class submarine, built in the Cherbourg shipyards and modified for use with the Krakozhian Navy with the help of ATMASH and DAPMASH personnel. With a complement of eight officers and fifty-seven crew members, it was one of the smallest nuclear submarines in existence, and it was about to make its presence known in the Kara Sea theater.

Captain First Rank Genrikh Nikolayevich Amenkov was one of the youngest skippers in the fleet, second only to the likes of Gennady Poryk, Tanya Kalinina, and Fyodor Sheshenko. At thirty-one years of age, he was a highly decorated officer, serving with distinction in the fabled river battles of the Great War of the Republic. The irony was that he didn't intend to become a sailor in the first place; he had wanted to become a tank driver when he was young. The K-331 was his first command; he had received his promotion only a few months before.

The K-331 was currently somewhere off the coast of the Arkhangelsk Peninsula, near the Russian port of Murmansk. Genrikh couldn't wait to get back in action, because the K-331 couldn't fire at an enemy submarine until its existence had been officially confirmed by Admiral Vasily Domovich. He knew the logic behind the decision, but deep down, he wanted to do some damage and scare the enemy out of his pants.

"Captain, sonar, I report two sonar contacts near our starboard baffles," said the sonar supervisor. "Their range is about 70,000 yards."

"Anything on their bearings?" asked Amenkov.

"The contacts are intermittent, but when I pick them up clearly, they both appear on bearing 060."

Relative to the submarine, bearing 060 was directly in line with Murmansk, which meant that those contacts came from there. Although it had declared itself neutral in the Rivymiyitevko invasion, Russia would not hesitate to report a sighting—more properly, a sonar recording—of a French submarine in an active theater. Of course, being neutral in this conflict too, the French would deny its navy's involvement in Rivymiyitevko, but they would drop hints of a submarine sale to Krakozhia. And that was the end of Adzhitekova and Domovich's deniability.

"Keep an eye on those contacts," Amenkov ordered. "If they find us, our mission is compromised."

After a few hours, the sonar supervisor said, "The two contacts have moved to within thirty thousand yards, Captain. I believe that they are Oscar-class submarines. Should I label them Number-19 and Number-20?"

"Aye." Oscars were a bad sign, thought Genrikh. If, by some unknown twist of fate, the Russian government allied themselves with Rivymiyitevko and sent these monstrous guided missile submarines to help the small rebel state, the Krakozhian Navy would have no chance. But if he sunk those subs, he could provoke an international incident, since there was no proof—yet—that Russia had sold those subs to Rivymiyitevko. It was a case of damned if you do, damned if you don't, and he didn't like it one bit.