Paradox Hour

Chapter 7

Fedorov could sense the veiled animosity from Miss Fairchild in the beginning, but as the meeting ensued, she came to regard him differently. Their mutual frankness, and the revelations they shared, had done much to ease the tension, and he soon came to feel she was now regarding him as an ally after all.

Yet that last statement had shaken him, deepening the feeling of guilt he carried within. Calamity… that was quite a word for all they had seen. Was that what they had glimpsed in the empty, cinder black world the ship had visited when they first displaced forward in time? The shock of seeing that world certainly fit the description she had first shared—Grand Finality.

The thought that Admiral Tovey had established this group he called the Watch was damning enough. A select group of people in the know, all nested within the Royal Navy, had kept a long vigil waiting and watching for the return of Kirov at some future point in their time line. They had given the ship a special code name—Geronimo, the name of a renegade Indian Chief in the American West. It was a bit disturbing to think of his ship and crew as a renegade, something to be chased after, hunted down, destroyed. But that is what the Watch was established for, and now this odd new circumstance that saw Kirov steaming side by side with the Argos Fire, a ship of the Watch, was an unexpected twist. Was it the first step in possibly healing and mending the damage they had done to the history? He could not know, though he hoped as much.

Fairchild had told him many things that only deepened the sense of mystery and doom he felt. The revelation of how those messages and signals had come to members of the Watch from the future was most alarming. Yet now that he thought on it, he realized it was only his own sense of self-important arrogance that made him think time went no further than the era of his own life.

We all know and believe in the past, he thought, because it is still alive in our memories. The future was another matter, always a great unknown, never seen but always predicted, and hidden with a shroud of darkness and uncertainty. We have the feeling that we are riding the crest of time, he thought, perhaps like a man or woman surfing on the shore. Our lives are carried inexorably forward by the wave of time, until we reach that final breakwater and the surf crashes to the distant shore. But at least a surfer has the eyes to see that shoreline ahead of him. In our case, we ride the waves blind, never really knowing what lies ahead, though we can hear the churning chaos of the wind and water.

Yes, it never occurs to us that the future is out there somewhere, where billions of souls, unborn at this hour, are destined to walk the world, each wrapped up in their own lives, and creating events that others after them will regard as “history.” Kirov had already shown it could move forward in time. They had safely returned to their own time in the Pacific, with the foreknowledge of how the war would begin.

It was then that I took it upon myself to try and fix everything we broke with this ship, and it started with fetching Orlov. Yet what else could we do? It was clear that the war was ramping up, even if we did spare the life of the Key West. There had to be something else that was acting as the seed of doom, and I foolishly thought that might be Orlov, the only thing from our world we left behind.

No… He was not the only thing. We also left behind downed aircraft, battered ships, thousands of dead men, and the lethal haze of radiation over the sea. And we left behind a history that was perhaps fractured beyond hope of repair, even before I took that daring journey along the Trans-Siberian Rail to find Orlov. I did that as much to try and preserve that unseen future as to mend the broken past.

That chance encounter at Ilanskiy was the great unexpected wrinkle in all of this. So now I learn there are other places like that, rifts in time, cracks and fissures in causality, so deep that a man can slip right through to another point on the continuum. They may have all been caused by that initial impact at Tunguska, and one by one, they were discovered, sealed off, and put under lock and key.

Strangely, the Watch was knighted with the task of minding those rift zones, and each one had a key that could open the doors and allow access. The men and women of the Watch became the Keyholders, or so Elena Fairchild had told him. Yet they were not the ones who built the doors and set the locks. They were not the makers of those keys. They had come from the future, just as those strange signals had come to ships at sea during their long, lonesome patrols. And with those keys there had come a warning—beware another ship, beware a phantom intruder on the high seas of time and tide, beware Kirov.

That was enough of a shock to him, to realize that his ship and crew were regarded as pariahs, outlaws, brigands. Now the revelation that those future voices were finally stilled was chilling to the bone. It meant that they would fail here, in spite of every effort. This time they had tried to make amends, first with Admiral Tovey and the Royal Navy, siding with Great Britain as an ally instead of allowing themselves to be drawn into confrontation. It seemed the only reasonable thing they could do, to try and preserve the Grand Alliance that had been forged here to defeat Nazi Germany and the other Axis powers, and by so doing, to preserve the future world that would be born of that alliance.

But if it all fails, he thought, if those future voices fade into silence, then what do we do wrong here? What do we overlook? Elena Fairchild seemed to think it had something to do with that missing key, and by extension, that hidden rift in time that the key might reveal. The keys were important, crucial, and they must all be found. Yet she was as shocked to learn about Ilanskiy as I was to hear all of this. That must be the answer! Ilanskiy! Yes, she said the Watch knew nothing of that place, or its perfect alignment along a rift in time. If that was true, then perhaps those unseen men and women of the future knew nothing of it as well. That could be the one rogue element that results in the chaos she was trying to describe—calamity.

A sudden heat was on him when he realized that he was the one who had discovered that rift. No one in the future knew about it—there was no key for that door. It was not locked away and guarded. But how was that possible? I have just told Elena Fairchild about it, and others know of it here. Certainly Sergei Kirov knows about it, as he walked those stairs to see the world Josef Stalin built, and made an end of that monster. And that was all my fault…

Again the sense of shame and guilt was on him. He wanted to save the life of one good man, and that took the life of one of the greatest demons ever to live on this earth. Stalin killed and tortured more souls than any man who had ever lived. Some say Mao Zedong’s policies killed more, but for pure deliberate murder, Stalin claimed the laurels. It was Stalin who said that death was the solution to all problems—no man, no problem, and he went about solving his difficulties by simply eliminating any man he perceived as a threat. Wasn’t it a good thing to rid the world of a man like that? How could it lead to this Grand Finality?

He realized that there was no way he could learn the answer to that, yet at the same time he felt compelled to try. What are we here for, he thought, if not to try and find a solution to this mess we’ve created? But did we cause it? Is all this my doing, or simply the inevitable result of Stalin’s death? Did it take a man as ruthless as Josef Stalin to hold the Soviet Union together through the revolution and long civil war?

That thought led him nowhere, because he had to believe that his efforts here had some hope of saving those future lives, and preventing the calamity that Fairchild spoke of. What was this Grand Finality? How could it be avoided? Did that possibility rest on the finding of these strange keys? Where were these other rift zones in time? Were they all caused by the Tunguska Event? Where did they lead? How deep were the fractures? How far back into the history did these rifts go? Did the fractures also extend into the future? Was it possible, for example, to get to that inn at Ilanskiy in 2021 and go up the stairs to another future time?

His mind was flooded by a hundred questions like this, and the feeling that the sheer magnitude of this problem was beyond him. I tried to seal off that breach in time at Ilanskiy with that raid staged by Sergeant Troyak. Yes, I’ve led Troyak and his Marines about these last months thinking I could find some moment in the history that would make a difference. I suppose I did some good with that, and the presence of Brigadier Kinlan here was the great unexpected dividend—or curse. The consequences of his intervention here remain to be seen. Yet that all has something to do with Orlov, doesn’t it?

He thought about that, realizing it was Orlov that sent him west on the rail to Ilanskiy, and Orlov who found that strange object in Siberia, the Devil’s Teardrop. Somehow his fate has had a great deal to do with all of this.

Now he felt restless, anxious, like a man watching a candle burn away, and when that light went out, there would be nothing left but darkness. Darkness, a Grand Finality, calamity… Call it by any other name, that black rose was seeded now, and growing here in the Devil’s Garden of this war. Its thorny stalk was lengthening, the dark buds opening to a bloom of death.

That was how Director Kamenski had described it, and that thought made Fedorov remember his first discussion with the Director over the question that still plagued him—what was going to happen to them if they remained here on July 28th of this year? That was the day Kirov first arrived in the past, and clearly there could not be two ships occupying the same moment in time. Kamenski had suggested something quite different might be going on…

“What you say is very interesting, Mister Fedorov, assuming this is the same meridian of time we were on before… much has happened to the world, and most of it our doing… If something happened in 1908 to change the history, then the 1940s we find ourselves in now may not be the same as those you visited earlier.”

Fedorov had heard such theories before. Some call this notion the “Many Worlds” theory, saying that a world existed for each and every possible outcome of events, which would mean there might be an infinite number of worlds, an infinite number of Anton Fedorov’s out there somewhere, each one living out the infinite number of possible choices he might make in life. He remembered his objection to that, the fact that he was standing right there on the deck of the battlecruiser Kirov.

“I do not see how that is possible at the moment,” he had said. “Wouldn’t the history have to remain cohesive enough to give rise to the building of this ship? That would have to occur for us to even be here at this moment. It’s maddening, sir.”

“Yes it is,” Kamenski said in return. “Other men have gone mad over it—the Siren’s Song of time—yet we dare to sit here and listen, and it seems we have been bold enough to hum along as well! Remember that we remain loose variables at large in history until all these events reach some definite conclusion. We undertook the dangerous mission to try and reach the ship in 1908 and remove it from that time, and that we have done. But the job is not yet complete. We are still a needle in Mother Time’s finger as she darns her dress, and as long as we are here, the possibility of changing everything that follows this moment still exists. That said, we must not be surprised to find that all the days between 1908 and this moment may have already changed, and that the world we sail in now is not the same one we left. I do not know if we can untangle that knot just yet, but at least we have a year before we would ever have to face that paradox you raise, which is plenty of time to shift elsewhere.”

That time was now running thin, thought Fedorov. The year has burned away, like that candle, and it is already May. That was one fear, but another arose from what Kamenski had asserted—the possibility of changing everything that follows this moment still exists.

There was hope in that, or why would they remain here in this struggle, but there was also fear. He had already seen the terrible consequences of his blundering. What if these changes give rise to a future where his objection could not stand? What if the history never leads to the design and building of a ship like Kirov? After all, it was the enmity of the long cold war that saw this ship built in the first place. Suppose this Grand Alliance here does succeed, and we avoid that cold war. Would the Soviet Union have built Kirov anyway? Would we have built Kazan? Would the ship have ever left Severomorsk like that, packed with missiles and bombs to conduct those live fire exercises?

He realized now that his very existence here rested on a tall stack of plates and cups that was teetering on a very shaky table. And everything they did here was like trying to remove a chipped plate from that stack, and replace it. One slip and the whole thing could come tumbling down and break into a thousand pieces. The life of this ship, its very existence, and his own life and fate was all there in that stack of plates, and behind that thought was that persistent thrum of anxiety again.

We are outlaws, he thought. Geronimo was a very good name for this ship. We’ve caused nothing but trouble on this long sojourn in time. Yes, we’ve been a needle in time’s thumb, and she must be very upset about our meddling here. So this time we shifted to a place where we must finally account for our actions, an hour where our very existence rides in the tightening knot of paradox, an hour when we face the prospect of our own Grand Finality, our own personal calamity—annihilation.

Now he remembered how he had tried to explain his fear to Kamenski: “Paradox is not simply some thorny problem—I think it is the force that rearranges things when time is confronted with an insoluble contradiction. It is a real and dangerous force.”

Fedorov had hit on a great truth. Paradox was time’s black hooded executioner, the slayer of impossibility, a sharp sword that cut through the Gordian knots they had twisted with their meddling.

Kamenski had given him a solemn nod. “This is the first time our own necks have been on the chopping block,” he had said. “Yes, the edge of paradox is a very dangerous precipice to hike along. We must be very careful here. I cannot say how that problem might resolve itself, Mister Fedorov, but something tells me that time would find a way. Yes. Mother Time does not wish to have her skirts ruffled any more than necessary. She would find a way.”

Fedorov wondered if that were true. They were putting Time in a very difficult position here. Suppose Kamenski was wrong, and the Many Worlds theory was only that, a theory, but not a reality. Suppose there was only one world, one ship, one Anton Fedorov. I am more than matter and material, he thought.

I also persist through time. Now I find that because of this impossible journey in time, my own future self may be coming to judge me here. But I am that self! How could this happen? That future Fedorov cannot exist until I go there in time, either by living out my life, day by day, or in one great leap through time as we have done with Kirov. And what if our actions here change that future, and this ship is never built? What if we change things and some of the crew are never even born? What if I am never born? One question tumbled after another…

His dilemma was the very essence of the word paradox, and that was the heart of his fear—Paradox Hour.

If there was only one world, then these changes we have made in the history might be permanent. We’ve been chipping away at the decades, like a sculptor chiseling fine marble. One false tap; one slip of the hand, and we could chip away a piece that can never be recovered. This is what we have been doing here, what I’ve been doing. I presume to have the skill and knowhow to chisel time. It’s like a man trifling with one of Da Vinci’s greatest works, and thinking he can fix the weathering of time by altering the sculpture or painting! Time took the careful progression of countless moments to create this history, and now along comes Anton Fedorov…. Isn’t that what those voices from the future were trying to warn the Watch about? Beware a ship, Geronimo, Kirov…

This was what he realized when he called off Troyak’s mission to try and use the stairway at Ilanskiy to go back in time and fetch Ivan Volkov. He realized that Troyak could not bring the man back to this era from 1908, because he already existed here. A person cannot go to a time or place where he already exists, and if he tries to do so he puts Time in a most uncomfortable position.

It was that same basic paradox that had led him to the more desperate decision to simply demolish the stairway, to close the breach in time, if only for a while. But now he had learned another startling truth. There were other breaches in time, other rifts, hidden passages under lock and key.

And one of those keys had gone missing…

Chapter 8

Yes, one of those keys had gone missing, but they knew where it was—or at least where it once was. And they also knew the approximate time and circumstance of its disappearance. The key was embedded in the base of the Selene Horse, a precious artifact that was about to be shipped to Boston for safekeeping. When he learned that, he urged Admiral Tovey to simply send a message to Scapa Flow and prevent that shipment from being loaded, which he did as soon as the meeting concluded. As fate would have it, they soon learned that they were too late. Due to the secrecy involved, Rodney had been loaded three days earlier than the Admiralty originally planned. The battleship was now well out to sea.

“Most unfortunate,” said Fedorov. “We know that key must be there, and yet it turned up missing when the ship finally reached Boston. It must have happened during the battle Rodney fought with Bismarck, but I can’t see how that could happen now.”

Even as he said that, Fedorov had a sinking feeling. Bismarck was out there this very minute, part of Lütjens’ task force attempting to break out into the Atlantic. They were rushing west for the Straits of Gibraltar in hot pursuit, but they were not the only ships maneuvering in this chase. Home Fleet, now being handled by Admiral Holland, was already counting battleships and nervously watching other movements of the German High Seas Fleet. Fedorov learned this when he suggested that Admiral Tovey order Rodney back to a safe harbor.

“The moment I heard this news,” said Tovey, “that was the first thing that entered my mind. Yet as simple as it may sound, getting it done may not be so easy. Yes, I may be commander of Home Fleet, and that charge will immediately revert to me from Holland the instant this ship enters the Atlantic, but Rodney is about the King’s business at the moment, and suggesting we turn it around will have the Admiralty asking a lot of questions, not to mention the King himself.”

“I can see how that may be uncomfortable,” said Fedorov through Nikolin as always, “but surely the stakes here are too high to risk the ship at sea until we have that artifact in our possession.”

“True, but I may not be able to offer an acceptable reason why the ship should be taken off active duty. In fact, if I suggest this, the Admiralty will say that is exactly what Rodney is about. Her decks are loaded with equipment and new boiler tubes for her refit in Boston, and I don’t think the government wants this other business delayed. Rodney is the goose with the golden gullet now. She’s carrying a good amount of gold bullion in addition to the Elgin Marbles.”

“What about Mister Churchill?” said Fedorov. “Now that we’ve let him in on the secret, he should be a powerful advocate on our behalf in this matter.”

“Yes, I suppose Winston can throw his weight in gold around when he sets his mind to it. But such a request will need some explanation before he can grasp the urgency as we have here. Churchill is in London. Would you advise that I attempt to relate all this to him over Admiralty signals channels? That could be very risky.”

“I understand,” said Fedorov. “Yet there must be something we can do.”

Tovey nodded. “I am thinking we might be able to solve this problem another way,” he said. “quietly, at sea. When things heat up in the Atlantic, I take command, and I can come up with any good reason to pull Rodney off by the collar. Then we can arrange a rendezvous at sea. We can go aboard and see about this business—why, you could do so personally if you wish, Mister Fedorov.”

Fedorov still seemed troubled, but relented. Yes, it would be too risky to try and explain all this through coded signals to Churchill. And that would likely take a good deal of time in any case. What Tovey was suggesting seemed workable, though he still had reservations.

“What if the ship gets involved with the Germans. I have listened in on German Enigma traffic, and there is a lot of movement in the north now.”

“Unfortunately so,” said Tovey. “Admiralty believes they will make another run at us with a second powerful task force. They still have Tirpitz up there, along with the Twins, and that aircraft carrier that bedeviled us before, the Graf Zeppelin. Put those ships together and it spells a lot of trouble for Home Fleet and Admiral Holland. We can match them. Home Fleet has four good battleships standing to arms right now, and the battlecruiser squadron is coming south to reinforce Force H.”

“Any word on that battle?”

“Not yet, but we should hear soon. That young man I put at the helm on Glorious has a head on his shoulders, but if he’s tangling with Lütjens, things could get out of hand. This business in the Mediterranean forced me to weaken Somerville considerably. Thank god the French moved all their heavy units from Casablanca to Toulon, otherwise things could get very ugly in the Atlantic.”

“We won’t get through the straits until the night of May 4th,” said Fedorov. “I plan to run the straits after midnight on the 5th. We’re a full day behind the action.”

“Yes, we can’t offer Somerville any assistance just yet,” said Tovey, “and remember we still have to win through at Gibraltar.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Fedorov. “We’ll get through. Kazan will clear the channel of enemy U-boat activity. They’ll know we are coming, but we’ll run the straits in the dark, making enemy air strikes very difficult, particularly with our potent missile air defenses. As for the shore batteries, I’ll handle them. We’ll get through.”

“I like your confidence, Captain.” Tovey smiled. “Then once we do get through, the pickle will be this—how to arrange this meeting at sea with Rodney, while still staying in the hunt for Hindenburg. There are hundreds of ships at sea just now in the convoys. This is a maneuver the Admiralty did not expect. They’ll be burning the lamp oil late tonight trying to see how they can re-route convoys to avoid the worst. My job is to protect those convoys.”

“Do you think Force H can delay the German battlegroup?” asked Fedorov.

“Possibly. We’ll know the answer to that shortly. I’m headed straight for the W/T room to get at the latest signals traffic. My Mister Wells hasn’t got much to work with, a few cruisers and destroyers along with Glorious, but he’s a determined young man. Reminds me of you in many ways.”

“Can we count on any help from Admiral Holland?”

“He’s already dispatched the two battlecruisers, Renown and Repulse. I suggested Hood might go along as well. That ship has the speed we need in a chase like this, but Holland has his flag there, and wants this dance. I suppose it’s a wise decision. With Hood up north he can sail with Duke of York and cover the Faeroes passage, and then send King George V and Prince of Wales to the Iceland channel. It’s that same old game again. The Germans always have the edge at the outset, as they can pool all their major fleet assets together, and then pick one channel or another, while we have to cover everything, and we never seem to have enough ships for the job. So you can see how my suggestion that we retire Rodney in the middle of all of this would raise eyebrows in the Admiralty.”

“I understand,” said Fedorov. “Well, let us hope we can arrange this meeting at sea somewhere safely away from the action. What is your plan, Admiral?”

“That remains to be seen. Circumstances will dictate, as they always do at sea. We have to be ready for every contingency.”

“Well,” said Fedorov, “we have four ships here, counting Kazan. Any ship could make this rendezvous, though I would think we might want to keep our strongest assets in the hunt for the Hindenburg. Both my ship, and Argos Fire, have radar sets and our helicopter assets. We should have no trouble finding Lütjens at sea. And we have the speed to get after him, if he’s not too far ahead of us. Remember, our missiles have considerable range.”

“Indeed,” said Tovey. “Perhaps we could send the Argos Fire. After all, Miss Fairchild claims to be the keeper of these keys. I would think she would want to get to Rodney herself, and from her warnings in that meeting, she’ll want to find that key as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” said Fedorov.

Tovey perceived some slight reservation in the Russian Captain now. “Ah,” he said, “I’m thinking you are very curious about this key, and what it might open, Mister Fedorov.”

“That I am, sir. But I can see that it’s not mine to meddle here. Our task is to get to Rodney, and keep the ship from harm until we do recover that key.”

“And after that?”

“I think you said it best earlier, sir. Circumstances will dictate, in all of this. I have faith that we’ll determine what needs to be done.”

“As do I,” said Tovey. “After all, I’m supposed to be the one who arranged this whole party, yes?”

He smiled, but Fedorov could see that Tovey was wrestling with demons of his own over all of this. He has to be wondering about that, he thought. How could he have written that note? What circumstance is waiting for us out there that sees that possibility made a reality? It would certainly keep me up at night, and Tovey must be at his wits end. Yet the man is a well of calm and reserve. I must give that some thought myself, if I can manage any time. Perhaps I had better enlist some help in all of this. Admiral Volsky suggested I go talk with Director Kamenski about it. Perhaps that would be wise when I get back to the ship.

“Very good, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “Please let me know the moment you hear news of Force H. If they are in difficulty, we might be able to offer support with our helicopters.”

“I’m off to the wireless room,” said Tovey. “But something tells me we may have some bad news waiting. I’ve a sixth sense at sea, and there’s something on the wind, Mister Fedorov. It doesn’t smell good.”

Fedorov nodded, saluted, and was on his way.

After making his report to Admiral Volsky, he excused himself, saying he would like to speak with Director Kamenski concerning the revelations made by Miss Fairchild at their meeting.

“Yes, do go and see Kamenski about all of this,” said Volsky. “And while you are there, ask him how his garden is doing. It seems he’s been having problems with gophers. We all have.”

“Sir?” Fedorov did not know what to make of that.

“Just mention it, Fedorov. You will be surprised by his answer, I assure you.”

Fedorov found the Director in the officer’s stateroom, quietly reading a book from the ship’s library, and smoking a pipe.

“There you are, Director,” he said with a smile.

“Ah, Mister Fedorov. I trust your meeting went well.”

“It did, sir, but I have learned something I need to discuss with you, if I am not intruding.”

“Not at all. Have a seat here if you can tolerate my tobacco. A pity it is one bad habit that I never really could shake. Then again, at my age, you do not fret over such things.”

Fedorov was seated, wondering how to begin. He decided to come right to the point. “Director, in our earlier discussions you revealed that our government, the Soviet government at that time, had made the alarming discovery that nuclear detonations disturbed time. Would it be a breach of security for me to ask what was done about that?”

“Oh, it probably would, but I do not think that matters, given the fact that we have all been sailing through the decades here together. You know, I am beginning to settle into this year, 1941, as odd as that may seem. As to your question, yes, once we confirmed these secondary effects after Tsar Bomba went off, a program was developed to test this further. In fact, that was the real reason there were so many tests in those years. We wanted to know how pronounced these effects were, what amount of force was required, and what might be moved.”

“And the Americans?”

“They were also involved, and even before we were! We do not know the full extent of what they learned, but we knew they had discovered the effect as well. There were all sorts of tests in those days, atmospheric and high altitude exoatmospheric tests in space revealed the EMP effect. Underground tests in tunnels and bore holes were also common. Then there were salvo tests to see what might happen if we ever did use multiple weapons on each other. I suppose the idea was to see how much abuse the world could take when we start tearing apart and destroying the fundamental particles of the universe. No one dreamed it might disturb the fourth dimension, as well as the other three that shape the contours of this world. But we learned. Things happened. Things disappeared, then reappeared weeks later, sometimes years later. That was when we realized they had moved in time. So how much mass might fall prey to these effects, we wondered? Then we recalled those underwater tests conducted by the Americans, and became very curious. It occurred to us that some of those nice little shows they put on in the Pacific were all intended to test one very interesting thing.”

“What was that, sir?”

“We believe they were trying to see if they could move something as massive as a warship.”

“Through time?”

“Precisely. Gives one a chill, doesn’t it? It’s a trick your ship manages quite easily, but that was not supposed to occur until 2021. Yet the Americans were testing this prospect with their Castle Bravo test off Namu Island, in the Bikini Atoll, and that was in 1954. Some say they were testing as early as 1946 in their Operation Crossroads detonations.”

“Yes,” said Fedorov, aware of that test. “That was where the carrier Saratoga died. It was anchored there, and was swamped by a 100 foot wave. A Fuso class Japanese battleship was also anchored for that test, the Nagato, and the American battleship Arkansas.”

“You are certainly very knowledgeable when it comes to naval history,” said Kamenski.

“But I don’t understand,” said Fedorov. “Are you suggesting they had foreknowledge of what would happen to Kirov?”

Kamenski smiled. “It certainly seems that way. Don’t forget that the Americans witnessed a detonation like that first hand in the north Atlantic, and a ship they had been pursuing with the British suddenly vanished, along with a flotilla of their own destroyers. Things like that can get people very curious, particularly when the destroyers show up twelve days later with quite a tale to tell.”

“I had not heard about this,” said Fedorov excitedly. “You are referring to Desron 7, but I never knew what had happened to those ships.”

“They vanished,” said Kamenski, “then sailed into Argentia Bay twelve days later. Oh, the Americans tried to cover that up. They renumbered the ships, dispersed the crews, and buried the matter, because they had already told the public those brave sailors had sunk the raider they were pursuing—your ship, Mister Fedorov. So yes, they must have been very alarmed to hear what those destroyer Captains told them. Perhaps, after they finally developed their atomic bomb, they were testing to see if ships might vanish like that. Then again, it might have been a simple test to see how a fleet would fare at sea if attacked by nuclear weapons. Who can really know? Well, that was my business throughout most of my life. I was one of the men who were supposed to know these things.” He gave Fedorov a penetrating look with that, almost as though he were trying to size the man up, gauge him in some way. Then Fedorov said something that surprised him, and brought a knowing smile to his lips.

“Director Kamenski… The Americans did not witness that nuclear explosion in the North Atlantic in our history, yet they clearly conducted these tests. So how could they know anything might happen to Kirov? Unless… let me ask you this. Did we have foreknowledge that one of our ships would go missing in this way?”

Chapter 9

“A most interesting question,” said Kamenski. “If by ‘we’ you mean the Soviet government, then I think not. But there are many things the intelligence services find out that never come to the awareness of the central government. This is true in most countries, yes? Don’t the Americans refer to a kind of Shadow Government that lurks behind the facade of their so called democracy over there? We had such shadows as well. I was one of those shadows, and so let me rephrase your question. Did I have foreknowledge that one of our ships would go missing in time? Well, I certainly had my suspicions, Mister Fedorov. In fact, I have been watching this ship of yours for some time, and you already know through your discussion with Admiral Tovey, that other men were watching for Kirov as well.”

“You mean the organization that Tovey founded, the Watch?”

“Exactly. Well, it may not surprise you to learn that we found out about that as well. Secrets are very difficult to keep over the years. We didn’t know exactly what the British and Americans were up to, but we realized that it had something to do with time. You see, their own testing of these strange effects preceded ours. Ivy Mike took place in 1952, and Castle Bravo in 1954, but we did not learn definitively that time displacement was possible until our big Tsar Bomba test of 1961. It was only then that we realized the full implications of what the British and Americans had been doing. But that only confirmed a suspicion I have held about your ship for a very long time.”

“You mean you suspected Kirov had moved in time?”

“I did, and I was sleuthing the history for hard evidence of that.”

“But why, Director? Why did you suspect this?”

“Because that magic wand of yours, Rod-25, changed things, Mister Fedorov. But I remember how they once used to be. Yes… I remember it all very well.”

Kamenski’s assertion was most alarming. Fedorov did not know what to make of it at first, until he thought deeply for a moment, realizing that this Director Kamenski was a man they had encountered after their return from their sojourn in the Pacific. He had been enmeshed in the mystery of Kirov by Inspector General Kapustin, who had used him as a sounding board for the evidence he was digging up concerning Kirov. Yet that world was subtly altered. Men aboard the ship found that out the hard way, when they went ashore to see expected loved ones, and found strangers living in their homes! One crewman was so distraught over what he had discovered, that he committed suicide… Just like so many in the crew of the cruiser Tone.

Was Kamenski altered with the changing of that world? Was he the same Director Kamenski that might have existed before Kirov ever left Severomorsk? He seemed to be saying that he had been able to perceive the subtle changes introduced in the course of events. Yet how was this possible? Wouldn’t he have changed right along with everything else. He asked Kamenski about this.

“Sir, how could you know anything changed?”

“Because I could still remember the world as it once was,” said Kamenski flatly. “I went over this with Admiral Volsky once. You can remember Pearl Harbor, yes?”

“Of course,” said Fedorov.

“But yet you realize that your intervention after that first displacement, the use of an atomic weapon in the North Atlantic, caused the United States to enter the war early. You know both entry dates. In the same way, I know several versions of the history, and I have watched it change in my history books for some time. Yes! The books change, Mister Fedorov. But this old head seems immune.”

So Kamenski remembered things from other time meridians, thought Fedorov. Just like Admiral Tovey seems to be haunted by memories of his interaction with Kirov in 1942. I wonder how this is possible? Yet I remember things from the world we first came from easily enough. I remember having that last breakfast on shore leave at Severomorsk before we left for those live fire exercises—something that may never happen now that we have twisted these events so badly.

“Yes,” said Kamenski. “I thought retirement would be a nice quiet time with my books, good wine and tea, and a little gardening—but look at me now!”

Fedorov suddenly remembered what Admiral Volsky had asked him to mention. “Director,” he said. “The Admiral asked me to enquire as to how your garden was doing… Something about gophers?”

At that Kamenski smiled. “Ah, that was a metaphor I used to try and describe this business with Karpov to the Admiral. Gophers can be very persistent little devils. You see their effects on the surface of your lawn or garden, then dig down to try and expose their tunnel and set your traps. Unfortunately, by that time they have most likely riddled your lawn with even deeper tunnel networks, and your traps will fail.”

“I see,” said Fedorov. “Then Karpov was the gopher?”

“You might think of him that way. We thought he was up to his mischief in 1945, in fact, I read about it in my history books! Then it turns out that he had dug himself an even deeper tunnel, all the way to 1908. That took a good bit of digging to root him out. Now we look and see he is still here.”

“Yes,” said Fedorov, “and still up to no good, if I know the man. But what has this to do with our discussion?”

“The tunnels, the little gopher holes in time,” Kamenski explained. “Karpov is not the only little devil in the garden.”

“I suppose not,” said Fedorov. “I’ve been rooting around in the history myself.”

“And with every good intention,” Kamenski wagged a finger at him. “So don’t go moping about how all of this is your fault again.”

“But it is, sir. I’m responsible. I was the one who warned Sergei Kirov about his own assassination.”

“Yes, we’ve had this discussion,” said Kamenski quickly. “Don’t forget that it was Kirov’s finger on the trigger that killed Josef Stalin, not yours. He was a willful agent, a Prime Mover. He might have decided otherwise, but he didn’t. You see? If he had allowed Stalin to live, then you could not shoulder the blame, could you? So don’t try to carry it now. It was Kirov’s choice. Never forget that. Now, as to those gopher holes I mentioned, you have found one at Ilanskiy. Yes? Well Mister Fedorov, there are others. This is the sum of what Miss Fairchild revealed to you. Correct?”

“Apparently so, sir.”

“Yes, there are others, all possibly created from that event the world endured at Tunguska. This is the theory we came to in some very select circles within the intelligence community.”

“She revealed something very strange, sir—a key that opened the heavy machined doorway in the passage hidden beneath Delphi, and then activated the device she found there. That was how Argos Fire moved in time, or so I finally learned.”

“I understand,” said Kamenski. “A key you say? Would it look anything like this?” Now Kamenski reached into his pocket and produced a key, and Fedorov’s eyes widened when he saw it looked identical to the one Fairchild had shown them.

“Yes, Miss Fairchild is a Keyholder,” said Kamenski, “and now you will learn that I am a Keyholder as well. Seeing is believing.”

Fedorov was flabbergasted. “You sir? A Keyholder? Miss Fairchild said nothing about this! How is it possible?”

“She said nothing about it because she simply didn’t know. The Keyholders are a very select group, yet they do not even know who else may hold a key, or how many there may be. You are the only other person on this earth who now knows that I possess this key. I was about to tell Admiral Volsky once, when the two of us were huddled in the command bunkers beneath Naval Headquarters at Fokino. We were discussing a good many things, and waiting on the outcome of your mission to the Caspian.”

“How did you find it, sir?”

“A very long story, Mister Fedorov. Suffice it to say we acquired it. Intelligence services collect more than information, you know.”

“I see…” As the shock subsided, Fedorov suddenly realized something about this revelation. “But sir,” he said. “I was under the impression that these Keyholders were all members of the group Admiral Tovey founded—the Watch.”

“Interesting. Miss Fairchild told you that?”

“She implied it—or perhaps I jumped to that conclusion. I was about to tell you one other thing she revealed sir. She said that she had been designated as Keyholder Alpha, the keeper of the keys, as she described it. She was very keen on the fact that these keys are crucial, as they all seem to be related to another rift in time that has been carefully secured. One was obviously there at the Shrine of Delphi, and she said there were others, just as you have confirmed. Each key has information machined on the shaft that can reveal the locations of these time rifts, and they must all be found. She was very insistent about that. In fact, that’s what I came to discuss with you. We are out chasing after Admiral Lütjens on the Hindenburg, but Miss Fairchild has interjected something that may have a big impact on our mission.”

“Indeed? What is that, Mister Fedorov?”

“One of the other known keys was found embedded in the base of the Selene Horse—an artifact that was part of the Elgin Marbles. It was being shipped to Boston for safekeeping aboard the battleship Rodney, and that ship is at sea, with that cargo in her hold, at this very moment!”

“Yes, that is very interesting,” said Kamenski. “Here it is, May of 1941, the very month that key went missing.”

That struck Fedorov again, and he gave the Director a perplexed look. “Then you knew about this sir? You knew the key was aboard Rodney, and that it disappeared during her engagement with the Bismarck?”

Kamenski took a long puff on his pipe, exhaling as he thought for a moment. “The short answer is yes. I knew the British had possession of another key, and that it went missing. We eventually narrowed it down to this incident with Bismarck. Others knew about it as well, and it has been sought, very ardently, for decades, but never found.”

“Well it’s right here, sir! Admiral Tovey is going to arrange a meeting with HMS Rodney at sea. We can go and inspect that cargo ourselves—or perhaps Miss Fairchild will. I suppose this is more her business than mine, though I’m very curious about all of this.”

“Stay curious, Fedorov. That’s what I like about you. Never be afraid to ask the big questions. I could see you had a keen mind for this time displacement business long ago. That is why I teased you with that bit about the assassination date of Sergei Kirov changing. Did you ever give that further thought?”

Fedorov remembered that now. One telling of those events held the date was December 1st, and yet others swore it was on the 30th of that month. It all came tumbling back in his mind now, an avalanche of realization. He could hear Kamenski’s voice in his recollection, when the man had first challenged him with this oddity. “It may interest you to know that he was assassinated on December 1st, and not on the 30th. That was the way it happened the first time. Then things changed….

“Just a moment, Director.” Fedorov could hear his own voice raising an obvious objection. “It’s clear to me that we caused the Americans to enter the war early, yet I would have told anyone that Kirov was assassinated on the 30th even before we left Severomorsk.”

Admiral Volsky had remembered that same date, and the two of them had just stared at Kamenski, waiting.

“Yes, and many others will have that date in their heads,” Kamenski had said. “But this old head remembers it on the 1st of December. A few of the Party elite would celebrate it quietly, behind closed doors. I have drunk many a toast to Sergei Kirov on that day. But the people I can raise a glass with are now few and far between.”

Fedorov remembered the astounding conclusion that provoked. “But that would mean … Well that would mean something happened to change the history even before Kirov left Severomorsk!”

“You are very astute, my young man. Yes. That is exactly what it would mean. There may be only a small handful of people who know what you have just concluded—and know it to be a fact and not mere speculation. I happen to be one of them, and I have lived with that knowledge for a very long time…”

“Simply because of the slight difference between those two assassination dates?” asked Fedorov.

“It seems a small thing, but small things lead to big things, Mister Fedorov. If you have ever worked in a garden, you know this to be true. So if you and I recall different dates for that event, it is either evidence one of us is mistaken, or else it is equally clear evidence that the history has changed. This, I can now confirm. The world has been changing quite a bit, and for a good long time. I’ve been reading about it in my books. You thought it all began with the sailing of your ship from Severomorsk, and that accident with Orel, but that is not the case. And you correctly concluded this earlier, that the world you were born to was an altered state of affairs. It was not the Prime Meridian. No. There you were, living your life, not knowing any of this, but now you learn the truth, now you do remember things have changed. I was once in your shoes, Fedorov. I once had to solve the mystery of why my history books kept being edited, and then I became very interested in what may have happened to your ship. Now I know to a certainty.”

“If this is so, Director, who is behind it all? Could these changes have been initiated by the same people who made the keys?”

“That would be a sound conclusion,” said Kamenski. “In fact, the keys, and the time rifts they expose, may have been the means of initiating these changes.”

That struck Fedorov a hard blow. Someone has been tampering with the history…. And not just by blundering about in a warship. Someone has been deliberately changing things. But who? Was it the sender of those signals from the future?

“Well, Miss Fairchild revealed something else, sir.” Now he told the Director about those voices from the future, and how they had suddenly gone silent. He used the very word Fairchild had given him—Grand Finality—calamity.

Kamenski listened quietly, thoughtfully smoking his pipe. “Very dramatic,” he said. “I think I will need to have a nice quiet talk with this Fairchild lady. She calls herself the keeper of the keys? Well, I think she will be quite surprised to learn I’ve had this one in my pocket for decades.”

“Sir,” said Fedorov, a question hot in the wake of the Director’s statement. “Miss Fairchild told me that the keys are all connected with one of these known time rifts, is that true of yours?”

“An obvious question. Keys are supposed to open something. Yes? Well, you say these keys all have numbers machined into the shaft. That may be so, except for this key.” He dangled it again at the end of a chain.”

“Are you certain, sir?”

“Oh yes, quite certain. I’ve had it examined very closely, even with an electron microscope. The shaft is completely smooth—absolutely unblemished.”

“I see…” That set Fedorov back a moment, an unaccountable wrinkle in this mystery that was already folded inward on itself so deeply that it seemed he might never get it sorted out. “I wonder why, sir. If all the other keys are associated with rifts, then why not this one?”

Kamenski smiled. “Because Miss Fairchild is mistaken, Mister Fedorov. In spite of what she chooses to call herself, she does not hold the master key. Nor is she the keeper of these keys as she might believe, because I am. I believe the master key is here, right in the palm of my hand!”