Free Terminator Salvation: Cold War by Greg Cox

Murmansk. A heart-rending cry tore itself from his lungs.
    “No! NOOO!”
    Losenko swore out loud. He hadn’t authorized this. It took him a moment to identify the reckless sailor as Nikolai Yudin, a new recruit who had been stationed in the engineering section.
    “You there!” the captain bellowed from the bridge. “Get back below immediately, before I have you locked up for the rest of your miserable life!”
    Yudin didn’t even look up at him. He was too busy gawking at the nearly unrecognizable ruins of their home base. He tugged on his hair so hard that Losenko half-expected the distraught seaman to rip out his scalp.
    “Marina!” he called out hoarsely to the shore. “Holy God... MARINA!”
    Who was Marina? Losenko wondered. His wife? His girlfriend? His daughter? The captain tried to remember if Yudin had a family. There were more than a 150 men aboard K-115. Shaking the thought away, he wheeled around toward Trotsky.
    “Get a security team up here... now!”
    Trotsky barked instructions into a mike, but Yudin’s crewmates were way ahead of him. Five more men scrambled out onto the deck to retrieve their shipmate. Choppy waves made it a risky endeavor, and none had taken the time to don lifejackets. The newcomers quickly lost track of the task at hand, as they were stunned by the sight of the murdered shore.
    “You men, return to your posts,” Losenko bellowed, and three of the men glanced his way. Remembering their purpose, they moved toward Yudin, who fled to the very edge of the deck. He balanced precariously at the brink.
    “Stay back!” he shouted hysterically. “Don’t touch me!”
    His fellow seamen backed away warily, not wanting to provoke him into doing something rash. One held out his hands.
    “Please, Nikolai!” the man said, the sound carried on the brisk, cold wind. “Come away from the edge. Let us talk to you. Let us help you!”
    Up on the sail, Trotsky drew his sidearm. He nodded at the hysterical sailor below.
    “Shall I intervene, sir?”
    The captain shook his head. He doubted that Yudin cared for his own safety right now, and he did not appear to be armed. The man’s best hope lay in the open hands of his brothers-at-sea. He cursed himself for not anticipating such an incident. All his men had passed rigorous psychological testing before being allowed to serve on a ballistic missile submarine, but no amount of screening could predict how any one of them might react to the end of the world. What they were facing now was enough to drive the strongest man to despair... or madness.
    An alarm sounded loudly across the deck.
    A three-man security team, led by Master Chief Komarov, charged through the open hatch. Unlike the first group of would-be rescuers, they were fully equipped with lifejackets, nightsticks, and firearms. They had been warned what to expect, but even so they paused at the sight of what had become of Murmansk. Their chief was the first to regain his composure.
    “Down on the deck!” Komarov ordered gruffly. “Hands where I can see them!”
    “Leave me alone!” Yudin shrieked back at them. Crazed blue eyes darted back and forth between his comrades and the blasted wasteland ashore. When he spoke again, his voice was pleading. “It’s gone... they’re all gone!”
    Losenko felt the situation slipping out of control. He knew in his heart where this was going.
    “Yudin!” he barked at the top of his lungs. “This is your captain. You are not alone. We can all get through this together!”
    This time he got the young midshipman’s attention. Yudin stared up from a dozen meters away. Their eyes met across the distance. The boy’s forlorn expression broke Losenko’s heart.
    “I’m sorry, Captain!” he cried out. “But don’t you see? It’s too late. It’s too late for all of us!” He tore his gaze away from Losenko, turning his back on the other men. “I’m coming, Marina! I’m coming!”
    No! Losenko thought, as if he might control the boy’s