Nexus Deep

Chapter 34

Ivan Volkov was confused. Nothing appeared as it should. He had reached Kansk, where he thought he might be able to get information on what was happening. The city itself looked to be half its proper size. The massive weapons arsenal north of the river was gone, along with the Naval Marine Cadet school on its southern edge. The military barracks facilities were missing, and all the buildings he could see looked antiquated. There was no sign of modernity, no restaurants offering fast food, billboards, advertisements of any kind. His thought was to find a military plane and get to some safe location before a missile found the place, but there was no airfield! Kansk West was gone, along with the older civil airfield south of the city. It was as if he was in an entirely different place, yet the twisting flow of the river was the one thing that was unmistakable. This was certainly Kansk, yet like nothing he had ever seen.

His mind briefly considered the possibility that the city had already been struck, but he could see no outward signs of damage. The people, also oddly dressed, seemed to be fussing over the arrival of a few old cars, and asking a passerby what was happening, he was told the race cars had arrived. Perplexed and confused, he made one last attempt to locate his security team. Where could they have gone? But when he broadcast his message on the designated navy short range channel, no one answered.

Then he realized he had been a fool. The technology built into his service jacket had been born from new small unit equipment designed for the Russian Marines. It had been designed as a field jacket, running on solar power from light sensitive threads in the outer lining, with a thin flexible battery pack the was infinitely rechargeable, and special computer chips embedded in water tight pouches in the lining, wrapped with a Kevlar like protective shell that was also shielded from EMP pulse.

The jacket had many capabilities. In addition to short range radio, it could also store enormous amounts of data, and also had both GPS and cellular connection capability. Originally designed to link field operatives in a team, it could also broadcast a signal that might reach any other field jacket in range, a kind of ping that would then be answered by that suit to indicate the presence of a friendly operative in the immediate vicinity. In the heat of the moment, he had only used his radio to call for his guards. Now he settled down and got a grip on himself. Use the damn suit!

He reached to the left inside jacket lining, moved a pocket flap, and there was the locator button, which he squeezed between thumb and forefinger to activate the suit ping. The results were almost immediate. His jacket broadcast its IFF signal, and then reported any returning ping it received.

“One contact,” a woman’s synthesized voice on his collar speaker reported the results seconds later, but that only deepened the mystery. One contact? That was reassuring, but where were the rest of his men? He tried his radio set one more time.

“Team Seven, this is team leader. Come in team seven, this is Volkov—over.”

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s ass,” Orlov said aloud. Volkov! This was the man that Fedorov seemed so worried about, that nosey intelligence officer that was inspecting the ship when they finally got back to Vladivostok. What was he doing here? Could it be the same man, or was the name just a coincidence? And what was this talk about Team Seven?

Now Orlov looked around him, suddenly wary. This place was the same run-down hovel that he had seen when they arrived on that zeppelin. Fedorov had been keen to find this Mironov fellow, and the two of them had some kind of disagreement, then he simply rounded up the whole team and wanted to go up those stairs to the second floor. In fact, they could be up there right now. But how did this Volkov get here? Was this some part of the mission that Fedorov never explained?

Sookin Sim! He swore inwardly. I’d better check upstairs first.

He made his way up the main stairway, hoping to find the whole team waiting for him on the second floor. Fedorov had once told him something crazy about this place, about that back stairway as well. When the Captain had revealed the true nature of their mission, it was quite a shock., and he was still running all that over in his mind….

“We’ve moved,” said Fedorov. “We aren’t in the same time as before. That event out there is the Tunguska Event. This is 1908, and just a day or so after that thing fell back there on the 30th of June.”

“1908?” Orlov gave him a blank look.

“So you see why I didn’t want to get into it with Symenko,” said Fedorov. “As for you two, you need to know the truth. It’s 1908, and probably the first of July, the day after Tunguska. I’ve changed our heading and we’re going to Ilanskiy, just east of Kansk. There’s someone there I have to…. Speak with.”

It took a while for things to get through Orlov’s thick skull. He blinked, looking at Troyak. “Who’s the man you need to see there?” he had asked.

“Mironov. Alright, I’d better tell you both this, and it will be a lot to swallow. It all started with you, Chief, and you remember it very well—when you decided to jump ship. Well I came after you to get you home again, and you, Sergeant, came right along with me.”

So he told them, the whole knotted tale of what had happened when he and Troyak first got to Ilanskiy. Orlov grinned at times, nodding his head when a part of the story included him. He had all that inside his head now, clear memories of everything. He could still see those bulging eyes and purple lips as he choked the breath out of Commissar Molla.

“This young man,” Fedorov finished. “He was going by the name Mironov back then—right now, in 1908. Later he would change that name and take another—Kirov.” He folded his arms watching them both closely.

“Sergei Kirov?” said Orlov. “The man we named our ship after?”

“That’s correct.”

“You came all this way to speak with him? Well what in God’s name for?”

“It was going to be more than that,” said Fedorov. “This was something that Karpov and I worked through for a very long time. This whole situation—back in 1942—well it’s my fault. You see, I told Mironov something, opened my big mouth, and I let something slip. That changed everything. It set up that whole crazy world, the war we were fighting, the Orenburg Federation, all of it.”

“Mironov set that up? I thought Volkov did all that.”

“Yes, he did, but he might not have ever succeeded if I had kept my mouth shut. When we’re this far back in time, any little slip can have major consequences to the events that follow. One little slip could end up becoming something very big. Well, I made a mistake, and now I have to correct it—at least I’m going to try…. I told him something, and that changed everything.”

“What was it?” Orlov remembered how curious he had been.

“I told him how he would die—not exactly—but I gave him a warning about Leningrad, about the day he would be assassinated.”

“Sookin Sym!” Orlov gave him a wide grin. “Good job, Fedorov. It looks like he took your advice, because he lived, and he’s a damn sight better than Stalin.”

“Yes,” Fedorov said quietly, “I suppose he is.”

“So, you want to make sure he gets the message,” Orlov guessed. “You want to speak with him again and leave nothing to chance. I Understand now. But Fedorov, how do we get back after this? Have you worked that out yet?”

Orlov remembered the anguished look on Fedorov’s face.

“Get back?” said Fedorov slowly. “Well, the stairway will be right there, won’t it? The last time I went up, it delivered me right back to the time I left—1942—the very same day, only a few hours later. The good Sergeant here said he had been looking for me for some time, though for me, it was only a matter of minutes that passed. I think that stairway works like that. You get right back to where you started, as if you were walking a circle. It always takes you back to where you began.”

“Only this time we didn’t come by the stairs,” Orlov remembered how he caught that. “We got here on this damn airship,” he said. “Will it still work?”

“We can try,” said Fedorov glumly. “We all go together, right up those stairs.”

And that was what they tried. Now they were all gone, except for me, thought Orlov. Even as he tramped up the main stairway, his ear still listening for any further signals on his service jacket, he realized this was probably a stupid and fruitless move, but he had to be certain.

He reached the upper landing. “Fedorov? Troyak? Anybody there?” This stairway did nothing—no magical shift in time.

A young woman stuck her head out of one door, one of the maids that had been cleaning the rooms. This was bullshit, he thought. All the others were gone, and here he was, still stuck in 1908, all by himself.

No.

He was no alone. The plaintive call he had heard on his service jacket told him that well enough. Volkov! This was the man that had bothered them on the ship, then Fedorov claimed he followed him all along the Siberian rail line, and caused a great deal of trouble. It’s the same guy who started all this crap about the Orenburg Federation. Ivan Volkov!”

“Son-of-a-bitchkovitch!” Orlov swore in English this time, the way he had heard some Americans do it once. How did Volkov get back here?

Two plus two eventually added up to four in Orlov’s mind. It was clear that Volkov could not have come on a Zeppelin like the team did. So there was only one way he could have appeared here—that damn stairway! But why? What was he doing here? What was this crap about Team seven.

Yes…. Fedorov once told me that Volkov had been after him, and that he had a security team with him. I can’t remember everything, but it’s clear that someone is here, in 1908, and that he’s broadcasting on a service jacket. Fedorov is long gone, off to who knows where, and all the other marines. It’s just me here now, and Ivan Volkov. What should I do?

Fedorov’s words were darkly in his mind again… ‘ When we’re this far back in time, any little slip can have major consequences to the events that follow. One little slip could end up becoming something very big….’

Any little slip.

Well, Volkov was a damn sight more than that! He was one hell of a major fuck-up—right here, and right now. This is how he got back here, he reasoned. He had to come down those stairs.

Orlov moved down the hall, seeing the door at the top of the back stairway landing. He peered out the window, seeing the rail yard was empty now. Everyone had followed those silly race car men west towards Kansk. He squinted, looking this way and that for any sign of Volkov, but he could see no one else, just an old woman dragging a child behind here on the other side of the rail yard. He was standing right there, at the top of those mysterious stairs, as if he thought Fedorov, Troyak and all the other Marines would come up any second. He would even be glad to see Zykov with his shit-eating grin again, but all was dark and silent.

If Fedorov knew about this he would blow a gasket, he thought. One little slip, he says, but Volkov raises hell here. He starts his own goddamn country! That traitor fights against Sergei Kirov for decades. He even goes so far as to side with Hitler.

So what do I do about this?

He had two choices now, and plain as the two stairways leading down from this second floor. One was the back stairway, wrapped in the shadow of uncertainty. He could try that again, and maybe this time it would work. He had no notion that the direction he came from mattered. Fedorov had gathered the men in the dining room below, and they were all to go up, but in Orlov’s mind that was mere happenstance. So he could try again, and he might just get to the other end of his circle. Fedorov said it worked like that. You get back where you came from. Yes? Clearly the whole team got through… somewhere. He would have to get somewhere as well.

The other choice was the main stairway, and as far as he knew, there was no magic there. It should just take him back down to the lobby, where that old man and his daughter were fussing about. He couldn’t blame them for that, what, with all of the Marines tramping about the inn. If he went that way, down the main stair, he’d likely stay right where he was—at least in time—and right where Volkov was….

Yes, he thought. “If I try the back stairs again, and it works, I might get through to find Fedorov, and then he can decide what to do. Yes? He’s a whole lot smarter than I am when it comes to this time business, and he’d certainly want to know what I’ve learned about Volkov. Then again…. If I do get somewhere that way, what about Volkov? I already know he’s going to cause a shit storm here, but he hasn’t had the time to get started yet, has he. What was this crap about Team seven? Could he have other men with him.

He suddenly knew how he could find out, reaching inside his service jacket for the same secure pocket flap and squeezing the ping button. He would get the same message that Volkov got.

“One Contact.”

Perhaps I should not have done that, thought Orlov. Now Volkov will know that someone pinged him… In fact… He pinched off his collar Mike. “Ping reception log,” he said. “State time of most recent reception.”

“One ping received. 09:20 hours.”

Orlov looked at his watch. That was no more than five minutes ago, and so he knew it had not come from Fedorov. They were all long gone….

So, the bastard knows I’m here… No… He knows someone is here, and with a service jacket, but there’s no GPS here now, and therefore no way to get a precise location on any ping contact. I know he’s here, and he knows he’s got company, because his jacket will log my ping too. But I’m willing to bet he would think I’m one of his men—Team Seven… Well, they don’t seem to be here either, at least not within maximum range of a jacket signal. So what do I do here?

Do I try that back stairway again, and see if I can find Fedorov? What if I get somewhere else? It’s risky, and I’ll be leaving that skunk Volkov here to do all his mischief.

Orlov scratched his head thinking. Then he took a deep breath, and decided.

Chapter 35

“This is quite astounding,” said Hitler. “I only signed the order for design of this weapon six months ago, and largely at the urging of the navy because of the trouble with these naval rockets the enemy was using. Now we have a weapon that could win this war! It will certainly give the British fits. Yes? Here we have a decisive weapon, and one that we can produce with very little resources. Suspend the entire Naval building program. Listen Speer…. I want you to accelerate this program as much as possible. I know we decided that tank production was to receive top priority, but I want this moved up. Re-write the order to give the A-4 equal priority. Then comes aircraft production. But anything related to the A-4 must be kept in complete secrecy. Use only good German workers there. If the enemy discovers what we are up to, they will risk everything to try and stop us. It is already bad enough that Peenemünde was hit last night, so the British certainly know we are up to something there.”

“The briefing, was, in part, intended to assure you that the program was not seriously hurt,” said Speer. “They hit the sleeping and living quarters with their first wave. Unfortunately, Doctor Thiel and Chief Engineer Walther were reported missing. They are still digging for them in one of the air raid trenches, and we hope they will be found soon.”

“It should not have been hurt at all! We must triple the anti-aircraft defense there, and get more fighter groups. After what I have seen in that film, I am convinced these weapons can win the war, particularly if we can get more warheads of the kind that our Zeppelin attack delivered to London. If it is necessary to move the production facility elsewhere, then do so, but it must be well hidden, and deep underground. We must not keep all our eggs in one basket.” Hitler smiled, and it was a genuine emotion born of the enthusiasm he had for this new program. He was ebullient, his mood elevated, a new energy emanated from him and he seemed more alive than he had in weeks.

“I have selected a new location for the production plant, at Mittelwerk,” said Speer. “In fact, it has already been set up, and work will commence shortly.”

“Good,” said Hitler. “Very good. Now… what can you tell me about Nachtfeuer?” That was the code word the Germans had now given to their most secret weapons development program—Nightfire.

“It is progressing,” said Speer. “I am told we now know how the prototypes we captured work. The problem is getting enough of the required materials, and I have already established a production plant. Nikolaus and Günter are seeing to the matter.”

Speer was referring to the Industrial Physicist Nikolaus Riehl and Chemist Günther Wirths, and by extension, their effort to set up a plant at Oranienburg to produce reactor grade Uranium in high-purity uranium oxide. It had been decided that even in private conversation, no specific reference would ever be made to these materials, or any methods used to create them, and Speer had not even told Hitler the secret location of this plant.

“Speer, can you imagine it? Once we get the A-4, and finally complete production on the required warheads, then we have a weapon that can rain hellfire on the enemy, day or night, and one he will be completely powerless to stop.”

“What about their own rocket programs?”

“A good point,” said Hitler. “Yet aside from these few encounters at sea with British capital ships, we have not seen anything more of these weapons.”

“I’m told the British were using them to defend London,” said Speer.

“If they were, then their deployment was a pathetic failure. I have not received a single report indicating that any of our planes have been hit or shot down by a rocket weapon. Strange… They were so lethal when deployed at sea. One would think the coastline of Britain would be bristling with rocket launching stations by now, but we have no evidence that any such program is even underway in England. Well, that will not be the case here. Tell me about the Sturmvogel. When can I expect my Stormbirds?”

“Very soon,” said Speer. “There was some delay due to the necessity of obtaining the right silicon, aluminum and ferritic heat-resistant steel. Temperatures can reach as high as 1700 degrees Celsius. We also wanted to extend the operational lifespan from an initial 25 hours to 125 hours before major overhaul and maintenance is required. We are very close. They moved from simple prototype production to a larger test flight series that will be very close to the final production specifications. Pilot training is coming along nicely.”

“And we must have rockets for that,” said Hitler. “I want to show them that two can play this game. We have seen nothing since these naval incidents, but that does not mean they do not have these weapons programs. They could unveil a weapon any time, and we must be ready to answer. I am told that when Gneisenau died, the enemy may have used a weapon very much like the one we tested over London. In fact, it may have been the very same thing. We already know they were conducting secret trials in the deep South Atlantic. Thankfully, Kaiser Wilhelm interrupted their party with his raid on the hen house down there, and he brought home two fine chickens! At least the navy does something right once in a while.”

“You know Raeder will not be happy to learn we are cancelling all his planned production.”

“Then let him weep over his beer,” said Hitler. “He delivered on his promise to control the Black Sea, but sat idle when the Allies came for Sardinia. Just when I think he might be useful, he does nothing.”

“I am told his ships were in need of fuel, and could not sortie. The same can be said for the Italians. They have been using their battleships as nothing more than floating fuel bunkers to service a few destroyers and cruisers out of La Spezia.”

“Good for nothing,” said Hitler, “just like their army. Operation Alaric will transition to Achse in due course. Mussolini’s days are numbered, and it is likely that he will lose his grip on things in Rome within weeks. So I have ordered Rommel to accelerate his preparations for Italy as well. If they think they will simply waltz in and take the place, they are mistaken. All my Generals hound me for divisions, Speer. They have no idea of the burdens I carry. These developments in the Mediterranean forced me to build three new armies for Italy and the Balkans. The British and Americans will undoubtedly plan a new invasion soon. Ah, Speer, wouldn’t it be marvelous if we had the A-4 ready in time to stop them?”

“It would,” said Speer, “but I cannot promise that just yet. We are close to the final production model. Tests are very promising. As for Nachtfeuer, I will keep you advised. But remember, we still have the second enemy prototype.”

“It must be kept safe,” said Hitler. “They undoubtedly know we have it. They may even believe we used it on them over London. One would think that they would have mounted an immediate reprisal, which is why I ordered the ministries in Berlin to be dispersed to underground bunkers. It would be a terrible shame, Speer, if all your wonderful architecture were destroyed by this weapon. It is already bad enough that we have their bombers to contend with. I must admit, I made a terrible mistake with the Z Plan before the war. Goring was correct. I should have put far more resources into the development of the Luftwaffe instead of Raeder’s battleships. Even Doenitz is having difficulties now.”

“Oh? What is his situation? We have tried to keep resources for U-Boat production flowing at good levels.”

“Yes, but the Allies have made many technical advances in the Atlantic. Doenitz sunk 120 ships in March of this year—that’s 700,000 tons, and we lost only 12 U-boats in that month. Things fell off in April—only 64 kills and 15 U-boats lost. Then it all fell apart in May. We got only 58 ships that month, but lost 41 U-boats. That is more than we lost in the entire year of 1941! Doenitz even lost his son on U-954, and I sent him my personal condolences. After such losses. Doenitz has pulled back to rethink his methods and tactics. Hopefully we can reverse the downward trend, but you see, this is just one of many things I must contend with. The losses in Tunisia were keenly felt, and the Russians have been particularly aggressive of late. We must reverse the situation, and for that I need tanks and aircraft. Keep them coming, Speer. Put everything we save from Raeder’s building program into the effort. Now we need fighters, bombers, heavy panzers, not do-nothing battleships, cruisers and destroyers. If a ship is ready to be commissioned, and I mean within 30 days, no more, then work may proceed. Otherwise, I want the steel for other purposes. We must make sure Nachtfeuer andSturmvogel get top priority. This war is far from over.”

“Admiral?” There was real emotion in Tovey’s voice when he heard Volsky on the other end of that secure radio channel. He still remembered that hard day when the Germans put that shell on the bridge of HMS Invincible, and very nearly decapitated the Royal Navy in the process. Tovey had been blown right off his feet, and it was only the intercession of Admiral Volsky that saved his life. When they handed Tovey the last remnants of Volsky’s possessions, his service jacket and cap, he remembered also what he had found there. Losing Volsky had been a very hard blow, but now, there he was, Lazarus, risen from the dead, his voice as clear and firm as it always was.

“I know this must be somewhat difficult for you to understand,” said Volsky. “I must tell you that I am not even sure I know how I came to be here. It has something to do with all this arcane science that first took hold of my ship in the North Atlantic, and set us against one another.”

“Yes,” said Tovey. “That is all a very dim memory for me now, though I can still recall it if I put my mind to it. I remember how we stood together on that islet off the southern tip of Spain, well met. And I’ll never forget the first time I set foot on your ship, seeing the demon that had haunted my operations first hand, and feeling it underfoot. Quite extraordinary. I have been told, mostly by your Mister Fedorov, that all these things are remnants of a past life—something to do with that paradox he kept warning us all about.”

“Yes, I cannot quite sort it all out myself, but it is all up here in my head.” Volsky paused briefly. “If you can believe it, Admiral Tovey, I was sitting quietly at my desk in Severomorsk one morning. Then, the next thing I knew, I was aboard one of our submarines. Something happened in that instant—I know not what exactly—but there I was, and with my head full of things I was certain I had never experienced in the life I had led, and yet they were so completely convincing as memories, so clear and defined. Admiral… There are worlds within worlds, within worlds. How else to explain my presence here now?”

“So it seems,” said Tovey. “Mister Fedorov talks about them at times, does he not? At least he tried to explain it all to me once.”

“He does. Meridians, that’s what he calls them. According to him, there was once a single line of causality. He calls it the Prime Meridian, but apparently that accident in the Norwegian Sea that sent my ship here was quite profound. I knew, and from the moment I first put a missile on the first aircraft, that I was doing something that would make an irrevocable change to the flow of those events. Lord knows, Mister Fedorov has agonized over it ever since. We changed everything, and for that I am truly sorry. Now, here we find ourselves trying to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. That is a figure in one of your English nursery rhymes. Yes?”

“Indeed,” said Tovey. “Perhaps it is far too late for that. All the King's horses and all the King's men, couldn't put Humpty together again, and that may be true of our situation.”

“Yet we still try,” said Volsky. “We have come all the way north again to the Sea of Okhotsk, and Karpov has arranged for us to go on a little Zeppelin ride. We are going to Ilanskiy, and I think Mister Fedorov has already told you the significance of that.”

“He has,” said Volsky. “But what is your plan?”

“Something to do with all this shifting about in time,” said Volsky. “Fedorov believes that since we are most responsible for what has happened, yes, even for the construction of that ship you are sitting on now, then if we all put our minds together, and focus on a single purpose, we might just change things again. We tried that here, but things are too broken; too scattered. Then Karpov convinced us that the only way we would have a chance is to leave this time, and travel back to 1908. Things happened there that set a great deal in motion—the least of which is the breakup of my nation, and the rise of the Orenburg Federation. We are going to try and take matters into our own hands, and change that.”

“Change it? How? In what way?”

“That remains to be seen, but in that time, we will have a great deal of leverage on the years that follow. We have discussed it at length, and the business surrounding the rise of Sergei Kirov is very complex. We might not be able to find him back there, but we do think we might catch Volkov before he has a chance to wreak havoc on the history of our revolution.”

“I see… Well, this is quite remarkable, and quite surprising to hear. What do you expect?”

“We aren’t sure, but if we could get that man, then much would change. I have no way of knowing how it might occur. In fact, it seems impossible to me, but then again, my very presence here is something equally astounding. I just wanted to warn you of what we are going to attempt. I don’t know that it would even matter, but it may be that the things you remember will begin to fade, even if they are sure memories now. Things that once were, but cannot be because of something we do in the past, may be like a candle in the wind. Some of my recollections are like that, fading away, day by day.”

“Well you have certainly stolen my thunder,” said Tovey. “I had another matter to relate to Mister Fedorov, and a request, but I suppose it will have to wait.”

“What was it?”

“It concerns that problem we had over London in February.”

“Ah, yes,” said Volsky. “I was told something about that—most alarming.”

“Indeed,” said Tovey. “To think they have such a weapon is more than unsettling. It’s got the whole government here in a tizzy. We took a crack at their development center, and threw over 500 bombers at the place, but I’m not sure we had any success.”

“And your request has something to do with this?”

“It does,” said Tovey. “I suppose it goes along the lines of fighting fire with fire….” He let that hang there, and Volsky knew exactly what he meant.

“That is a very grave matter,” said Volsky.

“I fully understand that, but this was our reasoning, if such madness can be sanitized by claiming it was born of reasoned deliberation at all. That attack on London was utterly chilling. If the Germans are getting close to deployment on any scale for this weapon, then we face utter disaster. Now, I’m not sure if your mission could change all of that, but in this war, here and now, we think we’ve found their nest for this program, and if we could get it with one fell blow, the scientists, materials, facilities, prototypes and all, then we might put this fire out before it becomes a conflagration that could consume this entire world. If they get this weapon, it will certainly make our chances of winning this war a very dim prospect. We simply must find a way to stop them. So I thought of you, your ship, and the weapons you have told me about on more than one occasion.”

“Fighting fire with fire,” said Volsky. “How very true that would be, but also quite terrible.”

“Yes, we do understand that. Yet think of one other possible outcome here. If we were to do this, we might then also make a back-channel communication to Hitler that offers a truce, at least insofar as that weapon is concerned. After all, we still have an understanding concerning things like Mustard gas and the like. If Hitler thinks we have these weapons, and the will to use them, then he might be persuaded to embrace such an agreement. It could matter a very great deal. In fact, it could be the single most important mission of this war.”

Chapter 36

It loomed in the sky, a massive presence over the bay, as long as the ship itself. Kirov had sailed north, moving well out into the Pacific to make the journey, until it finally arrived at Petropavlovsk, on the western shores of Kamchatka. This was the harbor that Karpov had taken from the Japanese in the early stages of his Plan 7 offensive, and now it served as his principle Pacific port, at least in the warmer months while it remained ice free.

Geography was never kind to mother Russia. She could never find good warm water ports that opened on the major oceans. Even Vladivostok, which Karpov had vowed to regain, was ice-bound in the winter. Ever since Peter the Great, Russia has sought to expand her borders to reach those deep blue waters where the warm currents keep ports ice free, but she had always been blocked. This time, it was Imperial Japan in the way, roosting on Dailan, Port Arthur, and now even controlling Vladivostok.

Karpov’s war with the Japanese had lapsed into a long stalemate on Sakhalin Island. While Kirov was away, the Japanese could ferry an endless stream of reinforcements to the troops holding the line there. With so many Siberian troops now fighting for Sergei Kirov, Karpov, the younger, simply could not build up enough ground strength to overcome the Japanese and push south. The best he could do was hold the ground he had taken by surprise. As for the remainder of Plan 7, it had ground to a halt under the weight of logistics. It was simply not possible to support an army capable of moving overland from the Sea of Okhotsk to Vladivostok. With few or no roads to move supplies and heavy equipment, everything had to be done by the airship fleet, and it simply wasn’t large enough to support an army capable of posing any real threat to the objective.

So Plan 7 became a point of honor. Karpov had taken Kamchatka, half of Sakhalin, and he had held those territories. In spite of his repeated offers to invite American bombers to his new sovereign territory, the region was too foggy in the warm months, and too cold and ice otherwise. There was only a narrow window for good operations, in the spring and autumn, and that simply wasn’t good enough.

The younger Karpov had become the de facto Premier while the Siberian was away fencing with the Japanese at sea. He had then focused his attention on securing Omsk, and expanding the perimeter in that region. Though the German operation in the Caucasus forced Volkov to transfer many divisions from that front, Orenburg still had just enough to hold the Siberians at bay, and continued to float peace proposals to try and get itself out of the dilemma it was in now, with enemies on every frontier. When Volkov broke with Germany, Hitler pressed the Japanese to begin putting pressure on Orenburg’s far eastern frontiers. They had mounted a few excursions, but Japan had no real interest in expanding in that direction, and frankly, the Empire needed no new enemies.

Kirov had come to Petropavlovsk with Kazan, largely to get to safe waters. Radar equipped Zeppelins now made regular patrols out beyond the Kuriles, and they could serve as early warning pickets for any move by Admiral Kita’s little fleet. For their part, after meeting with Yamamoto, Kita had been persuaded to sail home to Japan, through the Bungo Channel, into the Inland Sea and on up to lay anchor at Hiroshima Bay, northwest of Kure. There they appeared like any other ship out in the bay, while Admiral Nagano planned to meet with Yamamoto and the interlopers from another time, to decide how they would be utilized in Japan’s war with the United States.

Now Karpov, the Siberian, was ready to consider options for their fateful mission to 1908. The difficulties had all been identified. They knew there would be a narrow window if they tried to reach the place on their own. Volsky was reluctant to make the journey himself, Fedorov would always have to arrive days after Sergei Kirov had taken the train east to Irkutsk. Karpov’s “service window” was very narrow, but one man, Tyrenkov, could undertake the mission without these limitations and restrictions.

Tyrenkov had already traversed the staircase, reaching a place and time where he had been able to identify Ivan Volkov, and so it was decided that he would become the messenger of Death for this mission, with a select group of the Marines who called themselves exactly that—the Black Death.

While this plan was being finalized, Admiral Volsky approached the group with news of the most unusual request put forward by Tovey.

“It was so good to hear his voice again,” said Volsky. “I can still clearly see his face in my mind, though I must admit there is still one corner of this old head that knows I have never met the man, at least in that life. How strange this all is. Now then… Here is what Tovey asks of us, and it comes directly from their Mister Churchill.”

Volsky related the fear that had gripped the British government after the stunning attack over London, and with a weapon unlike any other that had been used in this war.

“I still cannot understand how the Germans could have deployed such a weapon,” said the Siberian. “What could we have done to change the time line on their development of Atomic weapons?” He looked at Fedorov, but the Captain had no ideas on that.

“The fact remains,” said Volsky, “that they have at least developed a small prototype weapon, and that attack on London was its first deployment. We have already seen the early introduction of the Panzerfaust, and we all know why. Kinlan’s appearance has strongly spurred development of new and better armor on the German side, and the use of our missiles at sea may have had a similar effect. Look what the Germans did in the Black Sea. They have already used a rudimentary version of their V-1 cruise missile, and the Fritz-X radio controlled glide bomb. Now the British are terrified that the next raid over London will hit a much more important target. They have had to disperse their entire governmental infrastructure.”

“So now Churchill wants us to nuke them?”

“That sounds harsh,” said Volsky, “and I suppose it is, but here is what they proposed. They want us to strike the German special weapons development center at Peenemünde. Apparently, they attempted to bomb the place, but without satisfactory results. Now they are afraid the Germans will soon disperse their special weapons to avoid losing key assets in one place like that, so, and somewhat ironically, time is of the essence.”

“Operation Hydra used over 500 bombers,” said Fedorov. “That happened a few months early, as it didn’t take place until August on our original meridian. They won’t try another operation on that scale again for nearly a year, in July of 1944 with Mission 481. That sent almost 400 B-17’s escorted by nearly 300 fighters, and it still failed to shut the place down. Face it, these massed bombing raids just don’t have the precision to strike key targets, and we don’t have the missile range—or the missiles—to commit to such an operation with a conventional attack.”

“Well,” said Karpov, “unless we want to try and sneak in right off Bremerhaven, we’d have to be well out in the North Sea to avoid being found and attacked by German aircraft. That could be dealt with, but again, at a cost in SAM’s that we don’t really want to expend. That would put us 500 kilometers from the target. We would have to use one of the long-range Zircons, and yet, consider the cost to us in strategic striking power. We have only two special warheads left… Unless you have something in the sea chest, Captain Gromyko.”

“Gromyko gave Karpov a look, but said nothing.”

“Should we use that kind of power on an attack like this?”

“Here is what the British propose,” said Volsky. “London was already attacked, so they know the Germans have a working bomb. That alone should chill our blood. Even if we run a successful mission to eliminate Volkov, this is still a far more serious threat. Remember, we are staying here. This is our war, and we will have to face this question sooner or later if the German weapons program is not stopped.”

“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “Right now, everything is largely in one nest. Their project started September 1st of 1939. They have been working on getting enriched uranium, heavy water production, and uranium isotope separation. That was their main lagging point, getting the fuel they needed.”

“They obviously solved the problem,” said Volsky. “Mister Churchill now wants to make a most convincing demonstration. The British think the Germans may already suspect that London has the bomb. After all, there was that incident involving the detonation at sea during our pursuit of the German fleet.”

Karpov eyed Gromyko. At least this was one detonation that could not be laid at his feet. “Alright,” he said. “Our intelligence has determined that the Germans do, in fact, believe that the British have a weapon. Yet Hitler was bold enough to use his bomb the first chance he got! Our Mister Tyrenkov had determined that this was most likely a prototype.”

“So the British want to show Hitler that two can play this deadly game,” said Volsky. “Tovey said that Churchill believes this attack against Peenemünde can be most helpful, and not just by eliminating the German special weapons programs. He is planning to send a communication to Berlin after that attack, and state that it was in direct reprisal for the raid on London.”

“Tit for tat,” said Karpov.

“Precisely,” said Volsky. “But Churchill will also make a proposal that if the Germans refrain from any further deployment and use of these weapons, Britain and her allies will do the same. There is already an agreement concerning chemical and biological weapons.”

“The Geneva Protocol,” said Fedorov. “Yes, that was signed in The Hague in 1925. If they could add atomic weapons to the list, that would be a good step forward. It may give the Americans a bit of a problem if they can’t use the bomb on the Japanese, but at least it might stop a holocaust well before 1945 in this war.”

“That delicate balance of terror,” said Volsky.

“Would such an agreement hold?” asked Karpov. “Remember, this comes at a high cost to us.”

“Oh?” said Volsky. “You had other plans for your warheads, Mister Karpov?”

“Not exactly, though having a pair of Aces in your hand never hurts when it comes time to place your bets. And I’ll remind you that the only reason we are still here to even have this discussion is because I had a special warhead available for use in that most unusual engagement we just fought.”

“Yes, but if we could get such an agreement, with both sides vowing to refrain from using these warheads, then I think we have done something very significant here. That might even extend to the post-war world. Without the use of Atomic weapons in this war, perhaps we might prevent the arms race that leads inevitably to the next one.”

Hitler’s bomb would not be the last. They knew that the Americans were feverishly working on these weapons as well as the Soviets and Japanese. This would be the last great war fought with tanks and ships and planes. The next one would be fought with the sleek missiles that had come with the Russian ship, Kirov, and it would end in the bright fire of utter doom. After that, Einstein had famously said that any subsequent war would have to be fought with sticks and stones….

“I tend to agree,” said Fedorov, “but it will mean we would have to take the ship to the North Sea to get within Zircon range of Peenemünde. That’s a long journey, most likely over the north passage, and then we still have to defend ourselves to get in close enough to launch our strike.”

“It would also mean we leave the Pacific to the Japanese and their new F-35’s,” said Karpov, none too happy about that. “However, we have another alternative.”

“And what is that?” asked Volsky.

“Tunguska, that airship out there. We were going to take it to Ilanskiy, but I have plenty of airships. We could rig out Tunguska to launch a shorter range missile and we could fly to Peenemünde much faster and easier than that trip through the north passage.”

“What about German air patrols?” asked Volsky.

“What about them? Tunguska is a high flyer. No German plane could reach us, and if one tried, I’d blow it out of the sky. We already have Oko Panel radars installed on Tunguska, and Ilga hand held SAMs that can range out 6000 meters. We’ll get there, and deliver the weapon on target. I’ll handle it—or at least my brother will. This is the perfect mission for him. That will also allow me to remain here in the Pacific, aboard Kirov. Something tells me we haven’t seen the last of this Japanese task force we tangled with. We could get news at any time that would require us to sortie.”

“You think they will be coming for us up here?” asked Volsky.

“No, I doubt that. But they’ll be gunning for the Americans soon if we allow them to persist here. I’ve spoken to the Captain of the ship we took down. If he survived that, we might just get him on the line again and see if we can come to some agreement.”

“Another protocol?” said Fedorov.

“Why not? They know damn well what they can do to Halsey’s carriers, but I think we should consider trying to dissuade them. We’ve hurt them once, and they know we’re a threat. If we could get them to stay out of this fight, I’m willing to agree to refrain from any further operations against Japan here.”

Fedorov gave him a long look. “Well, that is certainly a change of heart. I thought you were dead set on reclaiming Vladivostok and continuing your war on Japan.”

“How would that help our situation?” said Karpov. “It might help my Free Siberian State, but it would also continue to wreak havoc on the line of causality here. We’ve been trying to find a way to put the genie back in the bottle. Isn’t that what this mission to Ilanskiy was all about? Now Churchill has asked us to hammer the Germans with a nuke, all in the effort to get an agreement by both sides to refrain from any further use of those weapons. Suppose we could negotiate a similar agreement with this Japanese task force?”

“Finally, I begin to hear you talking sense,” said Volsky. “For a while there, I believed you were dead set on trying to take Kirov back to 1908, and deal with things there in a more heavy-handed manner. Now you sound reasonable. Yes. If we could get a negotiated agreement, that would be a much better solution. I second this proposal.”

Both Fedorov and Gromyko also agreed that this would be at least worth a try, and in spite of some reservations, they all agreed to make the strike on Peenemünde. Like Tovey had suggested, they would be fighting fire with fire—nuclear fire. Yet they hoped such a demonstration of both capability and determination would sober the Germans, and possibly prevent them from any further use of their own weapons.

“This will be dangerous,” said Volsky. “Once one man starts throwing stones, the other man picks one up and things can deteriorate very quickly. We are counting on Hitler embracing common sense here. What if he should react differently.”

“Then let us hope our strike prevents him from getting any more of these weapons,” said Fedorov.

So there they were. Tyrenkov would take another airship to Ilanskiy, and they would go there with him to stand a watch on the upper landing and await his return. Karpov would summon his younger self, and the two of them would discuss the mission planned for the strike against Peenemünde. Meanwhile, half a world away, and many decades in the past, Elena Fairchild, Gordon MacRae, Mack Morgan and company were finally stepping ashore on the Island of Cerigos, knowing the object of their quest was right there, so very close.

Yet what happened next was most unexpected. A Deep Nexus Point had yawned open in this moment, and everything was waiting for its vast jaws to close upon an unsuspecting world that might never be the same again after that had happened. Time itself was waiting, for Fairchild, Karopv, Fedorov, Tyrenkov, and all their secret missions. But another mission was underway, and it was something that not one of them could have ever suspected. Soon Fedorov, Volsky, Karpov and all the rest would come to learn that they were not the only ones with the terrible power to move in time.