Stormtide Rising

Chapter 34

“Con—Sonar—Sonobuoy in the water! I have active pinging.”

Gromyko reacted immediately. “Come right 15 degrees, 20 degree down bubble. Make your speed 12 knots. Make your depth 1200. We’re going deep.”

Kazan had been sprinting again at 35 knots, still looking for those carriers. Gromyko had been tempted to turn and try and close the range on the contacts behind him, naturally curious as to what they might be. Instead he decided to sprint one more time, giving Chernov another chance to listen fifteen minutes later. He refreshed his reading on that destroyer, still edgy about it, but not inclined to go to an active missile attack until he knew where the carriers were.

But he would not be satisfied that day. Admiral Kita had made a course and speed change an hour earlier, and was now over 30 nautical miles away. Kurama and Omi had also turned, the entire force thinking to rendezvous near the sinking site of Takami. Then came the sonobuoy, and Gromyko took Kazan deep, slowing to 5 knots, and then hovering in the dark cold stillness of the sea, very near the bottom.

Kita had been very wary, knowing that the Russian sub was out there somewhere. He had no contacts, but decided to act as though he did. He sent a message to Takao to have her helo drop three sonobuoys, and make them active. To any sub driver in the business, that was a strong and clear signal that he had been made. So Gromyko did the logical thing, going deep, hovering, becoming nothing and nowhere in the sea.

Kita’s move was a bluff, but it worked. Those three sonobuoys pinged away for an hour, and all the while Kaga and Akagi were steaming at 24 knots, opening the range to nearly 55 nautical miles as they slipped away, Takao still following as a screening unit. Kita’s task force would reach the rescue site, his Marines looking over some flotsam to see if anything vital might be recoverable.

After that long hour, Gromyko decided to creep away to the east, moving at a stealthy 5 knots for the next 30 minutes. The sound of the sonobuoys continued to diminish and fade, and finally Chernov looked at the Captain and spoke.

“Sir… I don’t think they have us. If they did, there would have been some response to this move. Those buoys are still back near our previous position. I think they were fishing, sir.”

Gromyko smiled. Perhaps they never did have us, he thought. Someone out there is very cagey. He knew I was out here, and perhaps they picked up a whisper of my trail on one of the high speed sprints. So he popped off those sonobuoys to make it seem as though they were prosecuting a contact. Very clever. I think my quarry has given me the slip this time.

“What was the last course and speed we had on that destroyer?”

“220 at 24 knots.”

Gromyko looked at his chart. Then he glanced up at Belanov. “Karpov reported the three destroyers chasing him broke off hours ago and turned northeast. Our last reading on this one had it running southwest. I think they’re making a rendezvous.”

‘Where, sir?” Belanov stepped over to the chart table.

“Here,” Gromyko pointed. “Right where we sunk Takami.”

“A good assumption,” said Belanov.

“Yes, Momma Bear has called home all her cubs. So what are we looking at here? That means there are at least four destroyers, and we also had those two other contacts trailing behind that we never investigated.”

“What do you figure them to be, the carriers?”

“Possibly, but now I’m thinking the carriers must have been off on 240 when we went deep, and I think we were very close. Then they played their bluff, and I knuckled under. Considering things now, what else would we typically see in a task force of this size, particularly one this far from Japanese home waters?” Gromyko was reasoning the situation out, his long years of experience at sea informing him where his sensors had failed to do the job.

“Replenishment,” said Belanov.

“Exactly. I think those last two contacts were most likely a replenishment ship, and possibly one more destroyer in escort. So let’s fill out the dance card here. Karpov reported he was attacked by strike planes, and from his last message, they got in close enough to deliver a glide bomb attack. What do you make of that?”

“Quite surprising. Japanese carriers are usually packing helos.”

“Right, but not this time. Strike range on glide bomb ordnance is around 45 miles. If they got planes in that close to Kirov, then they had to be F-35’s. But from what I know, the Japanese didn’t have very many of those, and the few they did have active were down on Okinawa at Naha or Kadena. So how do we get a task force like this way out here, and with F-35’s?”

“How do we get them here in 1943, sir?” Belanov brought them back to the moment, and Gromyko nodded.

“That nice little control rod Kamenski gave us accounts for our presence here—but the Japanese?”

“We’ll never figure that one out, sir. They’re here, and that’s all that matters. So what’s our play?”

“Let’s figure this from the other fellow’s side of the fence,” said Gromyko. “Somehow they shifted here, and right into the middle of our little conference with Fedorov and Karpov—uninvited guests. They obviously rendezvoused with Takami, another ship that appeared here under mysterious circumstances, and I don’t think any of them had control rods from Kamenski.”

“Very strange,” said Belanov. “Takami has been here for a good long while. This wasn’t the first time they tangled with Karpov.”

“Right,” said Gromyko. “Well, they called in some reinforcements.”

“Called them in? You figure they have some way of communicating with the future?”

“I was speaking metaphorically. But considering that, wouldn’t these events become … history? Wouldn’t the men and women in the future this time line gives rise to eventually know about what happened with Kirov and Takami?”

“That’s a lot of speculation, sir.” Belanov did not have the mental hiking shoes to wander down that path. “It’s a bit eerie to think they’re reading us like a book in 2021 and then sending back reinforcements to deal with us—with Karpov. I don’t suppose they would have known about Kazan.”

“They do now,” said Gromyko.

“Alright, but how did they get here, sir?”

“We got here. Perhaps they developed some means to follow us. Who knows? Then again, their presence here could be an accident. Kirov’s initial shift happened because of that detonation aboard Orel. We also know that Karpov and some of his flotilla shifted when that Demon volcano erupted.”

“Trying to sort through all the cards in the deck, Mister Gromyko?” Admiral Volsky had been resting, but feeling the boat move, he now returned to the bridge, approaching the two men where they huddled near the charts.

“Yes sir,” said the Captain. “Just trying to think things through. We were wondering how this welcoming committee got here. The way we figure it, they have at least one carrier, and with F-35’s. Throw in four or five destroyers and a replenishment ship, and this is one nice fat task force, way out here east of Ponape. That’s damn strange, sir. So we were wondering how they got here, and whether it was a willful shift, or an accident.”

“Could be a little of both,” said Volsky. “Mister Fedorov told me that he thinks Takami first appeared in the Sunda Strait, very near where that big volcano erupted.”

“That never happened in any history book I’ve read,” said Gromyko.

“A lot of things never happened, and Kirov is to blame for that—no, let me tell it truly—I am to blame. From the moment I gave the order to shoot down that first plane, we’ve had our paw in the beehive here. For a while, the honey was sweet, but our meddling has caused all these things to happen that never were—ships prowling the seas here that never were supposed to exist, and all this history skewed beyond recognition. I’ve already lived and vanished on one meridian—and died on another, if you can believe that. Yes, all those memories are right up here.” He pointed to his head.

“And the oddest thing about it all is that I have another Admiral Volsky in there too, behind all the others. He was just minding his own business at Severomorsk, when all of the sudden he wakes up here, aboard Kazan, and with a head full of all these insane memories. Frankly, there are times I still pinch myself, thinking he will wake up again, sleeping quietly in his office at Severomorsk, and with all this nothing more than a bad dream.”

“Well, this bad dream fires torpedoes.” Gromyko smiled. “On that note, our quarry seems to have given us the slip. We think they have eased off to the southwest to rendezvous near the rescue site for Takami. But they know we’re out here, sir. How should we proceed?”

“Any position update from Karpov?”

“Yes sir. He’s broken off and is heading south towards Rabaul.”

“That is a big Japanese naval-air base, is it not?”

“Yes sir, their main base supporting operations in the Solomons.”

Volsky shook his head. “Now what would that man be doing down there? Something tells me he hasn’t quite given up with his little crusade here.”

The others nodded. “Sir,” said Gromyko. “There’s one thing more. During that strike against Kirov, Chernov heard something that is more than a little disturbing.”

“What?”

“We think Karpov popped off a nuke.”

Volsky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again?” he sighed. “Why in the world would he do something like that?”

“We got the after action report indicating two separate strike waves made an attack on his position. It simply read ‘Wave one extinguished—missile defense defeats wave two.”

“Extinguished?”

“Yes sir, and now Chernov says he thinks a special warhead was used. It was a glide bomb attack, sir, and by F-35’s. We were just trying to figure out how the Japanese got their hands on those planes, and why they were here.”

“Yes,” said Volsky, “more uninvited guests. It is obvious that they got them from the Americans. As to why and how they got here, that will remain our little mystery, and one they are probably still trying to solve as well.”

“Then you believe their presence here is an accident—not intentional, like our mission?”

“Intentional? I suppose only they would know the answer to that question.” Volsky inclined his head. “Thinking that would open some very dark doors, would it not? If they came here willfully, then that means they, like we, have discovered the means to move mass through time. That alone is cause for grave concern. It also means they came here intending to kill Kirov, as I do not think they would know about your boat.”

“Unless they read about us,” said Gromyko.

“What do you mean?”

“Well sir, we’re out here re-writing all this history. This would be recorded and known to those in the future.”

“Interesting…. Darkly interesting, Mister Gromyko. Yes, we are still re-writing history here, even as we try to erase all evidence of our own tracks, as per out little agreement with Karpov. I don’t think we can answer all these questions just yet, but I do think we ought to head south to find Kirov, and make sure Karpov hasn’t got a pen in his hand as he approaches this base at Rabaul to do any more writing in his personal history book.”

“Very well, sir.” Gromyko looked to Belanov. “Bring us around to 180, and make your depth 430, just above the layer, speed 24 knots.”

That was how they left the scene of that little engagement. Gromyko would never know just how close he was to his quarry, and what he might have risked and done there if he had decided to engage those last two contacts.

“Just to be on the safe side,” said Volsky. “I think I had better send a message to Karpov myself.”

“Very good, sir. Belanov will show you the way.”

“Signal on the secure channel, sir. It’s from Admiral Volsky.” Nikolin looked over his shoulder.

“Send it to my ready room. Mister Fedorov? Care to join me?”

The two men withdrew, with the hatch closed behind them. Karpov sat down at his desk, swiveling a pad device and tapping in the code to bring up the decrypted message”

“Ah,” he said. “Someone is getting curious. It asks me to confirm or deny use of special warheads. Very interesting.”

“Chernov,” said Fedorov. “He’s got ears like Tasarov. I don’t think that detonation went unnoticed. The blast wave would have hit the ocean surface very hard, even from the altitude where you detonated that warhead.”

“Indeed,” said Karpov. He was already tapping out his response. “I suppose I should inform his lordship, as a curtesy—not a response to any order he may have intended with that message.”

“Yes, your highness,” said Fedorov. “Who’s playing it high and mighty now?”

“Alright, Fedorov. I’ll admit I can be haughty at times.”

“To say the least.”

“It isn’t that,” said Karpov. “It’s about boundaries. Volsky should realize that he doesn’t rank me here—not any longer. That time is long past. So I’ll confirm on his request, and indicate it was a necessary expedient to save the ship. He can believe what he chooses in that. But Kazan has turned and they are now heading south. The good Admiral wants to know where we are going.”

“Well…. Where are we going? We broke off from that action some time ago.”

“I’m taking us south, away from that damn Japanese task force. It isn’t the destroyers I worry about, but those F-35’s are a nuisance.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Fedorov.

“Well, we’ve broken off, and I don’t think they know where we are, but that engagement was most unwelcome, and it cost us.”

“Yes, missiles, a KA-40, and one of three special warheads. That was a heavy price to pay.”

“It might have been much steeper,” said Karpov. “We would have gone the way of Takami, and getting that damn ship was our only consolation. If not for the carrier, I would have stood and fought those destroyers, and beaten them too.”

“That would have taken a lot of SSMs” said Fedorov. “We decided that Takami wasn’t worth the missiles.”

“Only after they had expended all their SSMs,” Karpov corrected. “Between those three destroyers, they had 24 to throw at us. I would have swatted each and every one down. They just move too slow, and make easy quarry for our SAMs. But their SM-2 is very good. It even has a chance against our MOS-III. My problem is that I need every missile we have to remain a viable threat here.”

“A threat? I thought we were trying to extricate ourselves from this whole scenario.”

“Yes, yes, but what about Volkov? And now what about all these damn modern Japanese ships that appear so suddenly like this? What the hell is going on, Fedorov?”

“I’ve told you what I think on that. The fabric of spacetime has been so damaged that things are slipping through, particularly when there is any active detonation event, like that Nuke you fired.”

“We did not detect any more interlopers after that,” said Karpov.

“That’s a relief,” said Fedorov. “The thing is this, Admiral. These detonations don’t have to occur here. They can happen at any point in time from this day forward. Think of all the nuclear testing that went on here in the Pacific after the war. Each one may have put a crack in time, and things can slip through. And what’s happening in 2021? My bet is that a lot of nukes are starting to fly, and that means trouble.”

Chapter 35

“You mean you believe things might still be coming through?” Karpov found that prospect very riveting. “Here? To World War II?”

Thus far, this is where most of the shifts have brought things,” said Fedorov. “You got further back, to 1908, when you used a nuke here. And just now, you saw what happened to the ship when you fired off this one. We phased.”

“Yes,” said Karpov. “I saw you vanish right before my eyes, and then reappear. “You phased, Fedorov.”

“Somewhat frightening to think about.”

“And you believe the ship phased with you? Why was I the steady observer. Did you notice anything?”

“It all happened so fast,” said Fedorov, “in the blink of an eye. But a word to the wise. We phased, and if the ship had been closer to that detonation, who knows where we might have shifted.”

“But I have removed Rod-25 and placed it in a rad-safe container,” said Karpov.

“We don’t know if that is enough of a safety measure,” said Fedorov. “Hell, we don’t even know how the exotic materials in that control rod work their magic. The rad safe container may help, but it might not be fool proof.”

“Interesting,” said Karpov. “Yes, the ship got back to 1908 alright, and that set up a good deal of misery that I’ve been trying to redress ever since. I would have solved it then and there, if not for your little crusade.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve been over that. Well let me tell you something I’ve done recently in the here and now—a little secret project I’ve been busy with.”

“Go on,” said Karpov. “You know how I love hearing about your little schemes.”

“I seeded German intelligence with information concerning all the oil reserves Orenburg is sitting on now. It’s clear that Volkov has been using his knowledge of field locations to position his forces with the aim of controlling those resources. Many may not be developed now, but they will in the future.”

“Yes, he’s already busy at Kashagan and the Tengiz fields,” said Karpov. “That man has sunk more tech dollars into improving his oil extraction methods than he has into building decent tanks and planes. I suppose he thinks his friends in Germany will supply all those other needs, while he provides the oil the Reich needs to keep running this war.”

“That is what I thought,” said Fedorov with a smile. “So I did a little whispering.”

“What do you mean?”

“I sent German intelligence a map of all present and future oil developments that would be under Orenburg’s control.”

“Ah… Then you thought to drive a wedge into that alliance?”

“Exactly. It may have already had an effect. I’ve had Nikolin picking up signals traffic, and we’ve been decoding German high level directives to field armies and such. I send it all to Turing at Bletchley park too. In any case, there have been some interesting developments of late—troop movements, redeployments. Hitler moved several Italian Korps into position along the Don and closed off all those crossing points. He’s also given orders for German troops to retain control of Baba Gurgur, and he’s sent another parachute division there to make sure that happens. The Turkomen divisions were getting pushy. In fact, we intercepted a direct order from Orenburg to their commander. He was to encircle and secure those oil fields, but Hitler has raised the ante. He had but one regiment there, now he’ll have four.”

“Interesting,” said Karpov. “I’m sure my Tyrenkov had all of this as well, but I haven’t spoken with him lately with all this business we’ve been about.”

“There’s more,” said Fedorov. “Orenburg has ordered a new Army from Kazakhstan to move to the vicinity of Maykop. Hitler gave his troops conducting their Edelweiss Operation direct orders that German troops were to occupy and secure those fields.”

“I see where this is going,” said Karpov. “Very clever, Mister Fedorov; worthy of my own conniving genius.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I thought that if we could break that alliance, it would go a long way towards restoring the balance on the East Front. If the Germans do come to blows with Volkov, then we get a war in the east very similar to the one from our own history—with the full resources of all Russia united against Germany.”

“Not necessarily,” said Karpov. “That would mean that Volkov and I would have to reach an accord, and that Sergei Kirov and Volkov would also have to mend fences. I’m not sure either one will happen. Right now I’ve had my brother building airships and raising troops to reopen the front at Omsk. It’s all part of my Plan 7, which I was very much enjoying now that I control all of Kamchatka and half of Sakhalin Island. In the Spring, I had another big operation planned for the drive on Vladivostok. Alas, if we do what we must, I’ll miss all that.”

There came a knock on the door, and it was Nikolin, bearing a recent message transcript. He handed it off to Karpov with a salute, and was back to his post, but he wished he could have stayed there in that room to hear what would now be discussed by Fedorov and Karpov. On the way back to his post, he would lean in over his friend Tasarov.

“Listening to whale songs, or rock and roll?” he asked.

“What?” said Tasarov, removing his headphones. “I’m listening for any sign of those Japanese ships.”

“Well I just heard something pretty dramatic. There may be a peace proposal being floated between Siberia and Orenburg. Can you imagine that?” He gave his friend a wink, and was off to his post. Nikolin always knew everything, privy to every message and secret of the ship in his position as chief of communications and encryption. But sometimes he knew too much….

“Well, Fedorov, your little scheme seems to have worked! Volkov actually sent old Doctorov to a secret meeting with my brother and Tyrenkov near Omsk. I don’t have all the details yet, but it appears that the Ambassador was bearing an olive branch.”

“From Volkov?”

“A document signed by his own hand.”

“That is news,” said Fedorov, “very good news indeed.”

“Assuming I treat with that criminal.”

“What? Don’t you see what an opportunity this would be? You were just talking about it a moment ago. If Volkov turns, then the entire momentum of the war in the east turns with him. He’s a free radical, and one with terrible power to influence the outcome of these events.”

“Assuming he lives to participate in any of these events,” said Karpov darkly. “Assuming he lives at all…”

That got Fedorov’s attention. “Now what is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Things have changed here,” said Karpov, “just as they changed in the Western Desert when you ran into that Brigade from 2021. We may have to take a different view of things now that these damnable modern Japanese ships have appeared. If we stay here, I think I would have to withdraw to the north soon to support the renewal of operations on Sakhalin. That is very near Japanese home waters, and so we’ll probably have to face that enemy task force again soon. Combat is always risky, as we’ve just seen. Suppose we get hit, or even sunk?”

“Losing your nerve, Karpov?”

“No, quite the contrary. I’m just listening to my head. It tells me that we have some hard days ahead. This new Japanese task force could cause a great deal of trouble. Imagine what they could do if they aren’t eliminated? They could stop the momentum the Americans are building up in the New Hebrides, I’ll guarantee that much. Those F-35’s would make short work of a few Essex Class carriers, and never even be seen while they do so. The Americans will be cruising along, and then their carriers will simply begin exploding right under their fat asses.” Karpov smiled. “Oh, how I’d love to see the look on Halsey’s face when that happens.”

“Considering that he almost ran you off the map in 1945,” said Fedorov. “No offense intended.”

“None taken, Fedorov. I get your point.”

Now Karpov lapsed into silence for a moment, thinking. “Fedorov,” he began. “Suppose we’re going at this all the wrong way. All these contaminations we’re trying to cleanse from the time line seem to be multiplying. We set our minds on getting Takami, and now we’ve a whole new enemy task force out there to deal with.”

“Yes,” said Fedorov. “Don’t remind me.”

“Well this isn’t going to be as easy as we first thought.”

“I never thought it would be easy.”

“True, but you thought it would be possible, otherwise why commit to this course of action in the first place?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Well,” said Karpov, “things have changed. The presence of that new Japanese task force may present us with an insurmountable problem.”

“You really don’t think we can beat them?”

Karpov narrowed his eyes. “Like I said, I’m just reasoning this all out. I’m a realist, Fedorov. You saw what it took to fend off that surprise F-35 attack. We had helos up, and the damn planes flew right through their radar coverage. If we engage again, this ship will do harm, I can assure you that, but we may have to take our lumps to do so. We could survive one hit, and possibly two, depending on where the weapon struck us. But tangling with that task force here and now is going to be very dangerous. Kazan has a better chance than a surface ship like Kirov. He has both stealth and speed at his command, not to mention the missiles and torpedoes. If we continue this fight, we’ll have to rely a good deal on Gromyko.”

“How would you proceed?”

Karpov thought for a moment. “I would picket Kazan, well north of my position, and then I’d bark like a dog until they get a fix on me. They’ll come for me, and to do that, they would have to run right over Gromyko. That’s when he throws everything he has at them, and I mean everything. If he can’t take them out with his missiles, then he should also strongly consider resorting to a special warhead.”

“What? didn’t you hear what I just said about the fragility of the continuum?”

“Yes, I heard all of that, but if you want the job done concerning this new threat, you have to be ready to use a hammer.”

“Well, you might just end up smashing your own thumb,” said Fedorov. “I’d be very cautious about throwing another nuke here.”

“Agreed,” said Karpov. “Your scheme to drive a wedge between Hitler and Volkov was very clever, but there may be another way. We could roll the dice again.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is this—beating that Japanese task force isn’t going to be easy, and if we do, our missile inventory is going to be very thin when we’re done. Kirov has 33 SSMs left under that front deck. And we’ve only 24 S-400’s remaining. After that, we’re down to the medium range enhanced Klinok system. They aren’t nearly as effective as the Triumf, and their range maxes out right around the typical release point for another of those damn glide bomb attacks. That means that they can penetrate our radar coverage, and probably get to their release point safely if I don’t have the range of the Triumf to deal with them first. If I get another sixty bombs inbound, we’re finished. The Klinok system can’t handle that kind of saturation attack. Oh, we’ll get many of them, and it will be a grand fight when they get in close and the Gatling guns and Kashtans go after them, but I’m telling you right now—we’re going to take hits. We stand a very good chance of losing the ship. That eradicates us from the time line, eh? But it may leave the Japanese ships here to raise more hell. Kazan has only so many missiles. Gromyko won’t get them all.”

Karpov was finally telling it like he saw it, and now Fedorov had another angle on why he had instinctively resorted to the use of a special warhead. As powerful as Kirov was, it was not invulnerable any longer. A carrier with good strike planes was still top dog, and it wasn’t likely that Kirov would ever get close enough to the flattop to use its missiles.”

“Yet you beat Tanner and that American Carrier task force,” said Fedorov.

“Yes, but I had fighters off the Admiral Kuznetsov, five other ships, and strong support from our land based bombers, not to mention three good missile boats under the sea, including Kazan. That’s how I beat Tanner, and I also had that massive eruption cloud to force him to divert his strike waves.”

It was clear to Fedorov that Karpov was now telling him they could just as easily lose the next fight with the Japanese. If that happened, that task force would remain here in 1943, and how long would it be before they began to intervene in the battles now underway?

“You told me we were going about this the wrong way,” he said. “But you haven’t explained that.”

Karpov opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a Japanese fan, opening it. “Something I picked up in Vladivostok,” he said. “I actually had it with me on Tunguska, and had it shipped aboard here with my sea chest—just a little souvenir from that time.”

“What time?”

“1908.” Karpov smiled. “Look at this another way, Fedorov.” He touched the base of his open fan. “Here is that time—1908. We both know that it all started there, with the Tunguska event. Then all these segments of the fan are the future that event gave rise to. Look how they fan out in all directions. We’re on one of them, this particular Meridian, and probably right about here.” He fingered a mid-point on one of the fan segments. “And way out here at the top edge, let’s say that is 2021. See how the trouble fans out, getting wider and more pronounced as the change initiated in 1908 migrates forward in time?”

“Yes,” said Fedorov. “A very good analogy.”

“Well were here in the middle of this fan and trying to fold it closed again, so we can get rid of the Japanese, and Volkov, and everything else we discussed. Just as we swat one interloper, and kill Takami, we find all these new uninvited guests, and now they’re out to kill us!”

“Not very promising,” said Fedorov.

“Agreed. Face it, Fedorov, even if we do get lucky and kill those other Japanese ships, we’ve still commissioned many more on either side of this war. My intel service tells me that the Japanese are building out new hybrid carrier designs as fast as they can. This war is off on its own tangent now, and if we survive our next engagement, I doubt we’ll have much left to change these other things.”

“Yes…” said Fedorov. “We’d have to sink them all.”

“What? Did you think we could just go hunting and sink all the aberrant new ships that set sail because of our meddling? Then what about the history? There was no battle of Midway here. Moscow burned. The Germans are in Baghdad! No, too much has changed. After that, there’s Ivan Volkov, the Orenburg Federation, and everything happening elsewhere in this war. We can’t do what we thought we could—what we agreed to in our little tryst. Yes, you thought it was possible, but I’m telling you now that it isn’t. I knew that from the very first, but I agreed to go along with you and Volsky because I didn’t want to make an enemy of Gromyko. He was sent here by Kamenski to kill this ship, if you recall, but the Director wasn’t going to solve the problem that way either. It just isn’t possible now with this new flotilla of Japanese ships out there… But we have another solution, and I think you know what it is.”

Chapter 36

Fedorov lowered his head. He had felt this himself, realized the staggering odds stacked against them, but he had been willing to try. What else was there to do but try? Yet now Karpov was finally leveling with him and saying that their whole mission and plan was clearly not going to work.

“So you’re saying all of this is for naught,” he said. “It’s all just an exercise in futility.”

“Yes, it is…. From this point in time.”

That subtle pause when Karpov spoke was filled with an enormous amount of unspoken information.

“You mean….”

“Yes,” said Karpov. “I mean that we cannot succeed with our plan here—not in 1943. It will be nothing more than an exercise in futility, as you say, and it will also likely lead to the death of this ship and crew. But look here.” He tapped the lower base of the fan, the point from which each colorful segment originated, all fanning out into the future.

“The source of all our torment is here—in 1908. I realized this the moment I found myself there after I sunk those American battleships in 1945. I shifted back, but not Orlan, and that will always be on my conscience—yes, I still have a soul, in spite of what you may think of me.”

“You’re suggesting we go back again—to 1908?”

“That is the source, the real point of origin—the point of divergence in time that changed everything that came after. Isn’t that correct? I knew this the moment I found myself there, and I set about using the power I had to try and set things right. I would have succeeded there too—until Kazan appeared on the scene. You and Volsky thought you were doing the world and time a great favor by coming back after me, but you had it all wrong, Fedorov. I was the one chance you had at fixing this damn mess, and I’m telling you now that it simply cannot be done here in 1943. You knew that yourself when you went back on that mission to get after Sergei Kirov.”

“But you ordered me to abort that mission.”

“Yes, and you disobeyed. Now don’t tell me it was because I took that shot at your helo. You know damn well that was just a thin cover for what you really wanted to do. You knew it then, and you know it now—1908 is the key. It’s the only place where we can find a lever strong enough to move the whole world. 1908, Fedorov. That’s where we have to go if we are to have any chance at setting things right. And there you were, sucked back there again under some very mysterious circumstances, because Mother Time knows that’s the only place she could drop you to have any chance at putting all the broken china back together. When it came right down to it, you lost your nerve. You couldn’t kill Sergei Kirov and stop him from killing Stalin with that very same bullet. You thought we could fix things here, and you decided to come back, roll up your sleeve, and get busy. Well, here’s another little secret that you may already know. I never thought we could put things back the way they once were. Never. What’s done is done. All we could do was work to shape the new world that was coming, but now I see even that is self-serving crap.”

“Honesty cuts like a knife at times,” said Fedorov. “You’re right—I did lose my nerve. But so did you when you called off my mission.”

“No, that was just pure selfishness on my part,” said Karpov. “I’m not ashamed to say it. I made the same choice that Lucifer did. I simply decided it was better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. I was quite comfortable after fighting my way to the top of the heap in the Free Siberian State. Yes, I was quite comfortable here on my battlecruiser, and with the power to bring Yamamoto and Tojo to their knees, until Takami showed up, and now we get all her friends. But I never thought, for one minute, that I was crusading to restore the time line as it once was. That can’t be done from here. I’m telling you that it can only be done from 1908. That said, I simply decided I would prefer to live out my life here. Selfish, certainly. I’m a narcissistic bastard, but I was going to be a very content bastard here in the 1940s, and I was going to rule the roost. Now, however, it seems that someone has crashed my party. It isn’t going to be fun here from this point forward. Kazan came gunning for me, but I managed to get that situation under control. Now we’ve got the Japanese to worry about.”

“Not feeling so glib and confident?” asked Fedorov.

“Let’s just say that death is in the cards now, rude and untimely death. Who wants that? Certainly not me. I only narrowly averted it during that last engagement. I’d prefer not to have to refight that battle, not unless I can even the odds using Kazan as I’ve said earlier. Face it, we’re wasting our time here, quite literally. 1908, Fedorov! We’ve got to go back there if we want to do this thing—all of us.”

Fedorov was silent for some time. He knew that everything Karpov had just said was true. They couldn’t change things from here, and they were fools to ever think they could. If they had the balls to try here, then they would have to see reason and do exactly what Karpov was suggesting. They would have to go back to the source—to 1908.

He looked up, seeing the coldness, unremitting, in Karpov’s eyes, but he could do nothing else but agree. “Alright,” he said. “You’re correct. The key lever point is 1908. We both know that, but each time we entertained a decisive intervention there, we lost our nerve. Yet that is why you persisted in rebuilding that back stairway at Ilanskiy, isn’t it? You knew all along that you always had one last resort—a way to get back to 1908 and settle affairs there.”

“True again,” said Karpov.

“How would we get back there? Are you suggesting we go to Ilanskiy and use those stairs; kill Sergei Kirov like we planned before?”

“That would be a start,” said Karpov. “And from there, we will have at least a sporting chance of getting Ivan Volkov out of the equation as well. Nukes or no nukes, we weren’t going to do that here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Fedorov. “You’re probably correct to say that we might not be able to eliminate Volkov from here. The idea about using a nuclear threat was ill-conceived. A good sniper would be the way to go.”

“I’ve already put Tyrenkov on that assignment.”

“What? You took out a contract on Volkov?”

“Why not? We need him gone, and if my people can get to him, all the better. Don’t put much faith in his sudden peace overture. That man is a skunk, through and through. He’ll use us while he can, and then just as easily stab us in the back if he gets the chance. But even if we could assassinate him here, it won’t eliminate his Orenburg Federation. Someone else will just be waiting in the wings to take power there. So the only way to eliminate that contamination would be to nip it in the bud—or rather pull the weed before it can really take root and spread.”

“You mean in 1908?”

“Correct. Do we play the real game, where we have every chance of winning, or do we stick it out here in 1943 with all these half measures, taking our chances against those stealth jets, and God only knows what else. You said yourself that the continuum is fragile, and I’ve already seen what’s been happening in 2021. The nukes are flying. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. So what else might get blasted into the past. We already know that this war seems to act like a net for all those fish. I wonder why?”

“Probably because there were so many nexus points and crossing lines of fate here,” said Fedorov. “That’s the way that American physics professor would put things. This war was one crucial moment of potential change after another. On any given day, decisions are made, engagements fought, and they could all send the entire history off on a new direction. Look what’s just happened with the German return to a strategy in the Middle East. We had Kinlan’s Brigade here to stop them the first time with Operation Scimitar, but he’s gone—another incident where something broke through to this time frame from the future. Kinlan got here thanks to one of our nukes aimed at Sultan Apache, and he probably died when we took another shot at the modern day port of Tobruk. So yes, we could see more of this sort of fallout, with every nuke that gets thrown in 2021 having the potential to send something our way.”

“Could there be some method to that madness?” asked Karpov. “After all, with every contamination here, things get more and more skewed in this history. This situation here is a perfect example. Unless we find a way to stop them, the Japanese now have an Ace in the hole against the Americans, and this time it’s a war winner. 1943 was a tipping point. If they do get to those Essex Class fleet carriers, the US will see its war aims set back a full year here. All these changes may have yet one more effect—not only on this present time, but also on the outcome of the war, and the entire future built after that. Now I’ll tell you another of my dark thoughts. That could be exactly what time intends.”

That statement felt like a cold finger on the back of Fedorov’s neck. It had a sinister, chilling implication about it, and he looked at Karpov, wanting to hear what he thought. “Explain,” he said.

“She intends to so warp this present, that the future that built this ship cannot take shape. When we first came here, we had that future as some justification for our existence. You said it yourself, Fedorov, knock down some key pillar here and this ship never gets built. The reason for our existence is eliminated, which opens a very dark black hole beneath us no matter where we sail. You talk about Paradox? How can we persist here if Mother Time arranges it so that Kirov was never even built?”

“I’m not sure,” said Fedorov. “Kamenski might have something to say about it.”

“Kamenski? He was dead set on killing this ship himself! That’s why he sent Gromyko and Kazan back here. Alright, we changed that agenda, and put bigger fish in the frying pan. Now we realize that can’t be accomplished here. But in 1908, all things are possible. From there, we reign supreme.”

“You mean to reinstate the mission to kill Sergei Kirov?”

“One of them has to die, Fedorov, either the man, or the ship that was named after him. And that’s just for starters. We go back, and we collar Volkov as well, and that puts the entire Orenburg Federation in the bag. And if I take this ship back, as before, I can assure that the Japanese never occupy our territory”

“I see,” said Fedorov. “The odds are thickening up here, and you want to go back to a time when you’re invulnerable again.”

“It does make sense, Fedorov. Wouldn’t you agree? We go there, do all these things, and then there’s only one thing left to do in our plan—removing ourselves from the time line.”

“And what do you propose?” asked Fedorov. “You plan on scuttling the ship—Kazan too if we can get that boat back there with us somehow?”

“That would be an option, but we could also try one other thing—we could just go home.”

“To 2021?”

“Where else? That’s the war we belong in, my friend—not this one.”

“Assuming we tried all this, how do we get Kirov back there again?”

“Rod-25.”

“How do you know that would work? It could send us anywhere, forward, back a few years as it happened once before. If we end up in 1940, for example, then we get the whole Paradox scenario again.”

“Time has already played that game,” said Karpov. “No, I don’t think she’ll want to play it again. Now I’ll say something that has been ripening in my own mind for some time. We aren’t just anybody here Fedorov. We matter—and a very great deal. Here we sit, discussing the prospect of changing all the history since 1908, and we could do it! That’s what makes us special. When you and I decide something, say we’re going to do something, it’s no idle boast. We’re important, and therefore the things that we intend have weight—they have power. Our will has real and tangible power.”

“I intended to go back and kill Sergei Kirov,” said Fedorov. “Look how that turned out.”

“Do you know why?” Karpov folded his arms. “Because I intended that you should not kill him. I didn’t agree, and I’m not just anybody. But together, if we reach one mind on this, then I don’t think anything will stop us. Throw in Admiral Volsky on our side of this and the power of our intention gets even stronger. That’s what I believe. If we decide this, then we throw our own fates to the wind. We plunge that control rod into our little slice of infinity within the ship’s reactor core, and Time has to make a choice. Where does she send us—back to 1940 so she gets another massive paradox to sort through? I don’t think so. No, I think she’ll see that we get exactly where we intend to go—and that goes for Kazan as well. You and I stand here aboard Kirov, and we’ll get back to 1908. Volsky stands aboard Kazan, and Gromyko with his mandate from Kamenski, and something tells me they will get back too. Why would Time want us anywhere else—anywhere but the one place where we can really deal with this madness?”

“Astounding,” said Fedorov. “I’m starting to think you may have something here. It all accords with Dorland’s Time theory. I’ve read that book over an over since we got caught up in this web. Do you know what the very first entry in his time glossary is? Absolute Certainty. It’s a condition brought about by willful determination—not just by anyone, but by people who matter—Prime Movers, according to Dorland. That’s what you’re saying about us when you say we matter, that our will has pull and power. We’re Prime Movers, the both of us—Volsky too, and possibly even Gromyko, since he’s been cooked into the same borscht here with all the rest of us. The concept of Absolute Certainty serves to restrict or limit possible variations in the outcome of things—it serves to mitigate unintended consequences, and force events into accord with the will of the Prime Mover.”

“Just what I was suggesting,” said Karpov. “I should read this book!”

“Yes,” said Fedorov. “We’ve already seen a good number of things in it happen here. We’ve faced Paradox, saw the real effect of a Dual Heisenberg Wave that gave rise to your brother—a living Doppelganger. We’ve moved from one Nexus Point and Meridian to another, each with its own outcomes and consequences. We’ve seen the real manifestation of a time loop, and one that could even repeat again if we aren’t careful. Hell, I’ve listened to Elena Fairchild talking about a Grand Finality when things become so convoluted that they are insoluble, and no clear future can arise. Now here we are, two Prime Movers, talking about going back to the Point of Origin, the point of first divergence in 1908. Damnit Karpov. You’re right!”

Karpov smiled.

“Yes,” Fedorov continued. “There’s another concept that Dorland talks about in that book. He calls it ‘Quantum Karma.’ The notion of one’s karma is an old metaphysical concept from the eastern traditions. The things a person does in one state of existence have an effect in deciding their future fate. Dorland says that there’s a physical analogue for that—and on a quantum level. He suggests that Prime Movers can accumulate an aura of Quantum Karma around them that also has profound effects on the configuration of future moments in Time. Think of it like the way a ship’s hull concentrates the magnetic field of the earth. In this war, they introduced degaussing techniques to reduce that and lower the risk that a ship might set off a magnetic mine. We still routinely degauss ships in normal maintenance cycles. Well, what Dorland says is that Prime Movers collect quantum karma, and while it may not set off mines, it does have a profound effect on the outcome of events—particularly when their own volition is involved in those outcomes.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Karpov put all Fedorov’s logic into one simple phrase.

“Exactly,” Fedorov smiled.

“Well then, is there a will, Fedorov? Are we of one mind on this? If so, then we need to bring in Volsky and Gromyko, and all put our hands on the haft of the same sword.”

“I don’t see any other way,” said Fedorov. “It’s clear that we can’t do what we originally intended here, but in 1908, our will has terrible and all changing power to work its way on the world and future time.”

“And we’ll get there,” said Karpov. “Mark my words, if we all set our minds on the same course together, we’ll get there.”

He got up, walked to the bar and reached for a bottle of Vodka. “Let’s drink on it,” which was something Russians enjoyed morning, noon or night. He poured out two shot glasses, extending one to Fedorov.

“To 1908,” he said with a new light in his eyes.

“To 1908,” said Fedorov, “and all that must be done….”