Altered States – Volume II. Darkest Hour

Chapter 26

Doctor Zolkin was surprised to see them when Volsky and Fedorov arrived at the sick bay hatch. Shocked by what they had discovered, the two men immediately sought out Director Kamenski, learning that he was in for a medical check.

“More headaches?” said Zolkin as they entered. But Zolkin new the Admiral well enough to know that something was very wrong. He had been listening to Kamenski’s heart, satisfied with what he was hearing. Now he set his stethoscope aside and folded his arms, waiting.

“Misery loves company,” said Kamenski. “Did you have a restless sleep as well, Admiral?”

“I hope nothing is wrong, Director.” Volsky glanced from Kamenski to Zolkin as he spoke, civility trumping the news they carried in that bundle of newspapers under Fedorov’s arm. Here they were, huddling in the sick bay again with Zolkin, the place they had discussed the business of the ship so many times, and Karpov more than once.

“He’s fit and likely to live another hundred years,” said Zolkin with a smile. “Nothing to worry about beyond a bit of indigestion.”

“Glad to hear some good news for a change,” said Volsky, looking sheepishly at Fedorov. The two men sat down near Zolkin’s desk, and then Volsky simply looked at Fedorov.

“Out with it, Fedorov. Tell them.”

Fedorov cleared his throat, looking from one man to the next. Just say it, he thought, and then he spoke, certain of what he was now about to assert.

“I believe Captain Karpov is alive.”

“What is that? Alive?” Zolkin’s hand strayed unconsciously to his arm where he had only recently recovered from the gunshot wound during that wild moment on the bridge.

Fedorov just handed him the newspaper, and gave another to Kamenski, watching them take in the information with growing surprise.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” said Zolkin, “but now you have gone and made the Doctor ill. If Kamenski thought he had trouble with his dinner, my indigestion will be worse. How could this be?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Doctor.”

“We think Karpov must have been thrown clear of the weather bridge. Perhaps he even jumped,” said Volsky, putting forward the only logical explanation he and Fedorov could come up with.

“Jumped?”

“Yes,” said Fedorov. “If he fell into the sea just as we shifted, he would probably have been pulled forward in time with us as well, just as we pulled that trawler forward with us when the Anatoly Alexandrov shifted back from the Caspian. That was how we eventually reeled in Orlov.”

“But look at the date on this article, Mister Fedorov,” Kamenski pointed with his finger as he spoke. “It reads May of 1940.”

“This one reads April of that same year,” said Zolkin, trading newspapers with the Director.

“Yes, well that is before we appeared, correct?” Kamenski pointed out the obvious key fact. “It was June of 1940 according to our calculations.”

“Correct, sir,” said Fedorov, a question in his eyes as if he were hoping the Director would solve the puzzle for him.

Kamenski gave him a wan smile. “Big fish, little fish,” he said calmly. “The ship moved, and it obviously pulled this man along in its wake. But the little fish get thrown away, yes? We made it all the way to 1940. He was thrown out earlier. For him to be standing in these photos-in Siberia-and in the spring of 1940… Well that means he would have had to appear some time before that. It would take time for him to get there, yes?”

“That is what I thought,” said Fedorov. “From what I can make out in those photos, he does not seem to have aged much. I was also thinking he may have fallen out of the shift we made from 1908 and arrived some time before us. Who knows why? He might have arrived years before. That would account for his present position as these articles indicate.”

“My, my,” said Zolkin. “So he’s given himself a promotion now. Admiral Karpov, is it? First Commandant of the Siberian Aero Corps?”

The men just looked at each other, each one hoping the other would know what to do next. Then Volsky raised the obvious question. “Gentlemen,” he began. “Those articles make it obvious that Karpov has survived, and he has deviously been able to get himself mixed up with Kolchak in the Free Siberian State.”

“They consolidated power in the far east,” said Fedorov.

“Kolchak?” said Zolkin. “But he should have died in the 1920s?”

“A lot of things should have happened that did not happen,” said Volsky. “Now I fear that the presence of this man in a position of power there is going to change quite a bit more.”

“Indeed,” said Kamenski. “It is clear that events we are witnessing now clearly derive from the death of Stalin, and from the foolish prank I thought to play on Volkov. I wanted to get him out of our hair, so I sent him east to look for you, Mister Fedorov.”

“That was all my fault,” said Fedorov, looking at the floor as he spoke. “I caused all of this.”

“Now, now,” Volsky tried to console him.

“No sir. It was all my doing.” Fedorov unburdened his guilt, confessing all that had so bedeviled him of late, but Kamenski gave him a forgiving smile.

“Listen now, Mister Fedorov. You want to count the dominoes and you just pick out the ones that you have tipped over. What you must realize is that the row goes on and on. You think your insistence on finding Orlov caused the fall, but this man used his parachute to jump to safety, did he not? He had a service jacket on just like the one this Karpov is wearing in that photograph. Why did he not call for help?”

“He thought we were trying to kill him,” said Fedorov, still sullen. “A logical assumption after we fired five missiles.”

“Perhaps he did, but he still had the choice as to what he should do-to call and clear the matter up, or to slip away. Something tells me your Mister Orlov didn’t really want us to find him, and it was not because he thought we were trying to kill him. Something tells me he wanted to get away on his own. So you see, there are just too many variables at play here. Remember, it was Orlov who wrote that journal note that you discovered. Without that you would have never launched your mission to rescue him.”

“I suppose Orlov would have had good reason to jump ship,” said Volsky.

“He might have,” said Kamenski. “But not unless this Karpov here had hatched his little plot to take the ship. So you see, Fedorov, you want all the blame to begin with you, but nothing you did would have ever occurred if not for Karpov’s little rebellion, or Orlov’s strange letter. He is more than a little fish, I think. Karpov is a free radical, a wildcard, an unaccountable force in all of this history we’ve been writing and re-writing. Everything that has happened, except perhaps that first explosion on the Orel, can be laid at Karpov’s feet, so do not be greedy in taking all this on yourself, Fedorov. You were just reacting to events he had already set in motion.”

“But if I had not spoken to Mironov-to Sergie Kirov-then Stalin might have lived and the nation would not be fragmented.”

“Don’t think you killed Joseph Stalin now, Fedorov,” Kamenski chided. “Sergie Kirov has already confessed to that crime, or so I was told. Correct Admiral?”

“That is what he told us.”

“So you see, Fedorov, Kirov is not a puppet. Your whisper in his ear decided nothing. He used his own free will to do what he did. He made choices too, another free radical in the stew.”

“But if I had not warned him as I did, he might have died as in our history.”

“If, maybe, perhaps.” Kamenski held up his hands. “Nothing is certain, Fedorov. Things happen, and all this history we now find ourselves reading about in those books and newspapers is the result of millions of tiny choices and actions taken by people all over the world. Yes, we single out a few and claim they are the ones that matter, but I have not found that to be the case. We want certainty. We make big plans and hope things will all turn out well, but life seldom cooperates. Just when you think you have it all tied off and ready to slip into a drawer, the story continues. It resists resolution. It evolves to something new.”

“But I must be responsible for the things I caused,” said Fedorov.

“Did you cause them? I wonder. This is where you make your mistake in thinking about all of this. The dots seem to be connected. You want to move from point A to point B and feel that one thing caused another, but it does not work like that. It’s human nature, I suppose. We want everything tidy, with a nice beginning, middle and end. Believe me, I was in the same distress you were in when I first found my history books were telling me lies. Things change, Mister Fedorov. Things begin from unseen causes. They spin off in unexpected directions. They end up places no one ever thinks they could go. Look at this ship and crew for the truth of that. You see, there are no happy endings in stories like this. Things just continue. They go on and on, just like this little adventure you have all found yourselves in these many months. This isn’t just your story, Mister Fedorov. It’s everyone’s story, yours, mine, the whole world’s. Yes, you have your part to play, but there are other actors on the stage, and they speak for themselves.”

He folded his arms, satisfied that he had done what he could to relieve the other man’s burden, but knowing that it was entirely up to Fedorov as to whether he would continue carrying it.

“Now,” said Kamenski. “This Karpov is back again. It appears his part in the story is not yet finished. In fact it seems he never left the story at all! The only question we have before us is what do we do about it?”

Volsky nodded. “What can we do about it? I do not believe I can simply send a radio message and tell Karpov to return to the ship!”

“No, it is clear that he has made good use of his time since he arrived, whenever that was. This is a man who aspires to reach the top. He will always be uncomfortable standing in any other man’s shadow, so trying to bring him back into our family here may be useless.”

“Karpov is Karpov,” said Zolkin with finality. “We were foolish to ever think he would really change. The man is a megalomaniac!”

“A very dangerous one,” said Fedorov. “What you say is true, Director. He is a bit of a wild card in the deck now, as is the Free Siberian State. I’ve been reading those books we got from the Russians at Murmansk. Last winter Volkov’s regime made a major incursion east and took the city of Omsk. It has been a point of contention between the Siberians and Orenburg ever since, but now Nikolin tells me he has received news feeds indicating that the Grey Legion is withdrawing from the city.”

“The Grey Legion?” Zolkin had not heard any of this.

“That is what the troops under Volkov’s regime call themselves. Yet, from what I can see, Volkov could have held on to Omsk easily enough. The fact that he is pulling out could hint at an accommodation with the Free Siberian State.”

“You believe they may have negotiated a settlement?” said Volsky, knowing where this might be leading them.

“It is very possible, sir. Volkov is already at war with Kirov’s Soviet Russia. The last thing anyone wants is enemies on two fronts. He may have chosen to end his operation at Omsk to appease Kolchak and the Siberians. Kolchak had a residence in that city for many years, and I do not think the Siberians would have given it up easily.”

“My God,” said Volsky. “Do you think the two of them might ever get together?”

“Karpov and Volkov?” Zolkin smiled. “They would mix like gin and vermouth, eh? What a nice little martini they would make together.”

“Yes,” said Fedorov, “and the olive would be the outcome of this war. If those two states ally, then Soviet Russia is isolated. They are already at war with Volkov on one front. If he is reinforced by the Siberians that will be a major strain on Soviet resources and manpower. Add to that the fact that Germany could invade Russia at any time, and I do not think Kirov’s Red state can survive.”

The implications of what Fedorov was saying were now evident to them all. “And there is one other thing,” he said, his face betraying real fear now. “Karpov knows about us-the ship. He knows we are adrift in time, and a possible player in all these events. I have little doubt that he has wondered often what happened to us. If he suspects that Rod-25 was used as we planned it, then he also knows that control rod has a habit of stopping off in the 1940s on the way to 2021.”

“Yes, I have worried about this,” said Volsky.

“Well sir,” Fedorov continued. “He may be watching for us… waiting, and looking out for any sign of our appearance.”

“But would he not assume we were still in the Pacific?”

“Perhaps, but this ship can move. He obviously made his way to Siberia somehow, so he learned that his plans all backfired and that the Japanese Empire controls Vladivostok and the far east now. He would realize we would have discovered that as well. Then where would we go?”

“I see your point,” said Zolkin.

“He may not know we are here yet,” said Fedorov. “We have only been here a few weeks, and I do not think much news has leaked out on us yet, but it will. The British intelligence has good photos of this ship already, and so do the Soviets. In time our presence here will be known, and don’t forget that Volkov was a Russian Naval Intelligence officer too.”

“The bear is out of his cave,” said Kamenski. “Yes, they will soon learn we are out on the tundra looking for fish and berries.”

“But that is not all I’m worried about,” said Fedorov. “There is something else we have to consider now. What if they discover that stairway at Ilanskiy?”

“Ilanskiy?” Volsky spoke up. “But Karpov knows nothing about that. He was out to sea with the Pacific Fleet when you launched the operation to rescue Orlov.”

“What about Volkov?” said Fedorov. “He went down those stairs too. Might he not wonder about that place?”

They were all silent, thinking it through. Then Kamenski spoke.

“Gentlemen, the young Captain here makes a very telling point. That stairway at Ilanskiy may still exist in this world. If it does, it might even still connect the year 1908 to this time, and even extend to the year 2021. It did that in the world we came from, and it may do so here. Think about this for a moment. If we could go back up those stairs, to our time…” The implications were blooming in all their minds like black roses in the Devil’s Garden.

“What would a man like Karpov, or Volkov do with the power that stairway represents?” Kamenski was thinking out loud now. “Would they go forward to escape this mad world? Yet what if they had grown all too comfortable running things here, then what? Would they go up those stairs and bring things back… Weapons? Technology? Or perhaps they might simply have a look at how things might turn out?”

“Or worse,” said Fedorov. “What if someone goes down those stairs, returning to 1908 to start this all over again? That stairway represents a very grave risk. It must not be discovered or ever used again by either of these men.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Volsky.

“We must destroy it,” said Fedorov. “Destroy it and forever close the breach in time there, if we can. Or God help us if we cannot, because that will either become the stairway to heaven, or the stairway to hell.”