Winter Storm Page 2

  “There was a word in that message you begged the Admiral to send,” said Karpov. “What was it? Ah, yes, Geronimo. What was that all about?”

  “Just a code sir, signifying urgency. I got it from the Royal Navy signals manual.” Fedorov knew he would have to prove that lie somehow as well, and his heart beat faster yet.

  “I see… So the Admiral sends your message, and then this Admiral Tovey takes it upon himself to give us a nice polite call. Imagine that….” Karpov’s eyes narrowed. “And imagine also that he wants to speak with our very own Mister Fedorov, a simple Navigator on a ship that had only just appeared in his world hours before. Very strange, wouldn’t you say?”

  The look Karpov gave him froze Fedorov’s blood.

  Chapter 2

  “I did find it odd myself, sir.”

  “You found it odd?”

  “Of course, Captain.” Fedorov was quick on this point now, for he had given it considerable thought earlier. “Why would this Admiral wish to speak to me—or to Admiral Volsky, for that matter? How would he know we even existed?”

  “A very good question, Fedorov. You have an explanation?”

  “Not really, sir. It’s very puzzling. Why, it was almost as if this Admiral Tovey had dealings with us before, though I knew that was clearly impossible.”

  “Quite,” said Karpov, his suspicion slowly building as he listened. “In point of fact, Mister Fedorov, didn’t you say you had personally met the man?”

  “Met him?” Fedorov knew this was coming, the one thing he had let slip, thinking to use it as a way to convince the Admiral of what he had been saying earlier. Yet now it stood as a loose thread in the cloth he had been weaving to mask his identity, and he knew this moment was very perilous.

  “I was certainly well acquainted with the man—in my reading and all. You have often been angry with me for my interest in this history, and I think it got the better of me at that moment. Yes, when I heard it was Admiral Tovey, I felt I knew the man personally. I’ve read so very much about him over the years.”

  Karpov sat with that for a moment, thinking, considering. “Then you didn’t mean to say you had personally met this British Admiral?”

  “Of course not, Captain. How could I have met him?”

  “And yet how could he have known you even existed…” Karpov returned to that line now, watching Fedorov closely.”

  Fedorov hesitated briefly, not knowing what to say. Then he realized that Admiral Volsky had already come to his rescue, when they were ashore. When Karpov demanded control of the ship, the Admiral had offered this same objection, and then answered it himself. Fedorov could hear the Admiral’s words in his mind, a saving grace at that moment…

  “You say Moscow was aware of our predicament? Then they had to learn of our presence here somehow, yes? How would that be possible?” Fedorov remembered the look of sudden realization glimmering in the Admiral’s eyes, again a masterful performance in their effort to deceive Karpov at that moment. “Your history books, Fedorov! That’s how they learned what happened to us!”

  “Well sir,” said Fedorov, suddenly rearmed. “I was trying to figure that out myself. It’s only speculation, but perhaps it was as you told us ashore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said that the moment we arrived here, in the past, we became part of this history, and that our comrades in the future, in our time, must have found a way to get a message through to this time.”

  “Ah… Of course,” said Karpov. “Then this is how you think Admiral Tovey learned about us? That does make sense, I suppose.”

  Even as he said that, Karpov remained suspicious, for he realized all too well that had never happened. There had been no message from the future warning the men of this day and time about Kirov, at least not that he knew of. No. Admiral Tovey had learned about us the hard way, he thought.

  I put missiles on his ships! I damn near blasted his little navy from the face of this earth, just as I did with the Americans, and would have done the same to him, though that was probably unwise. Every blow I struck against the Western Allies that first time around, was ill considered. They were fighting with us, not against us. It wasn’t until the war ended, and they carried on with their little Atlantic Charter, that things began to take a wayward course. I should have been clear headed enough to see that… As I am now.

  “Yes sir,” said Fedorov. “It’s the only possible explanation. They learned about us from the future. That explained the recall order as well, all properly formatted. No man of this era could have done that. The information had to come from the future.”

  “Of course,” Karpov agreed, just as he had ashore when they first met. “The moment we arrived here, we must have appeared in their history books. How very strange for them, Fedorov. We go out for live fire exercises, and simply vanish. Here we thought it was Orel and Slava that had disappeared, but in all truth, we were the one ship lost for certain in that incident. Yet the moment we did vanish, we became part of this time, part of this history, and they could read all about it in their own history books. I wonder… would that information be here in our records—in your books?”

  “No sir,” said Fedorov quickly. “I’ve checked that. The history recounted in all the books I have, remains as it was.”

  “Interesting…” Karpov put his hand on his chin for a moment. “Then there is no mention of Kirov, or anything we might do here, in any of your books?”

  “Not that I could see, sir. They remain unchanged, just as we are.” He reinforced that point. “None of that information got into any of our heads either.”

  “Of course,” said Karpov, with a wan smile. He sat for a moment, thinking. “Then I suppose Admiral Tovey received this message directly? Could that be the case, Fedorov? Is that why he asked to speak with the Admiral, and to you?”

  “I can think of no other explanation,” said Fedorov. “Why I was chosen still escapes me. I’m just the ship’s Navigator…”

  Karpov smiled. “You are very clever, Mister Fedorov. Who knows, perhaps you make a name for yourself in the days and years ahead. Perhaps the people back in our time read all about that, all about you and your exploits here, and so they may have put that into this Admiral Tovey’s head. I know that must sound very strange to you—to realize you will do things that will shape all future history from this moment on, but if you think about it for a moment, you will see that is very possible now. Kirov is here, that much we have finally determined, and this ship has power beyond the imagining of any man in this time. Oh, perhaps they were told about us, or even warned. But one thing is certain, we are here, and our presence here will change things. You are here, and so you will be a part of that change. Understand?”

  “I think so, sir, but it is still very confusing.”

  “Yes… And I know you respected the Admiral a great deal, and regret his dismissal, but I will ask you to do your very best for the ship now. We are in a most difficult situation here—a very perilous one. I need clear heads and sound minds to plot a course forward, to put it in terms you can easily grasp. You know the history of this time very well, and I can use that information. I know we have had our difficulties in the past. I perceived you as a meddlesome, and somewhat impudent young officer, opening his mouth when he should have kept it closed, but I see now why you felt so compelled to speak your mind, and you were correct to do so. I would like to put that behind us. Can I rely on you as we go forward now?

  “I will do my best, Captain. But may I ask, sir, where are we going? You have asked me to plot a course to the Kara Sea for a rendezvous. What is that about?”

  “We will meet elements of the Siberian Air Corps there. This is not something you will find in your books, Fedorov, but I was briefed by Admiral Golovko on this. Since we will be taking the northern route to Vladivostok, most of your charts on current ice floe conditions will be useless. So the good Admiral is providing us with three airships we can use to scout ahead and report on these cond
itions.” It was a very easy lie, because it was also true.

  “Airships?”

  “Yes, an anachronism in our time, but they were building new designs, even in 2021. Something I must tell you now, Fedorov, is that the history has changed here, just as I said back in Severomorsk. Remember? Stalin is dead, and Sergei Kirov rules the Soviet Union, or what remains of it. Our nation is fragmented in this history. It did not survive the revolution intact.”

  “You were told this, sir?”

  “Yes, when I was summoned ashore in an urgent message to learn I was to take command of the ship on the direct order of Sergei Kirov. Imagine my surprise to be told a dead man was ordering me about! That was when I learned what had happened here.” It was a very convincing lie, thought Karpov, watching to see how Fedorov reacted.

  “They did not brief the Admiral,” Karpov continued, “and for obvious reasons, as he was being asked to relinquish command. So things are not as you might read about them in your books. Who knows why? Perhaps our presence here has caused this, or perhaps it was simply a roll of the dice, but this world is different. Our very own nation is not the same—fragmented, and our present course now takes us along the northern coast of Siberia. That is one of the new independent states, Free Siberia. You will learn more about this in time, but since we are navigating their territorial waters, they have sent these airships to serve as scouts and guides. We will rendezvous with them in the Kara Sea.”

  “I see…” Fedorov was relieved that he had skirted the one torpedo that might have sunk him here—the fact that Admiral Tovey in this time seemed to know of his existence, and even requested to speak with him personally.

  “Then I guess that explains it sir, just as you suggested. Admiral Tovey was told about us, and that is how he learned about Admiral Volsky and myself. It is still very odd to think I might become important to this time, but it is certainly something to ponder.”

  “That is true,” said Karpov, again with that thin smile. “Now Fedorov… You were the first to realized what had happened to us here. In the days ahead, I want you to meet with the men in small groups, and see if you can bring them along. Understand? At the moment we have rumors and whispers all over the ship, and I have a lot to deal with here. Can I rely on you to help brief the crew—make them understand what has happened?”

  “Of course, sir. I will do whatever I can.”

  “Excellent. Begin with the Bridge officers, then move to the junior officers, and so on. See if you can convince Zolkin too. The men come to him like a guru at times. If Zolkin understands all this, then he can help them when they line up at his door.”

  “I understand, sir, but may I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are we going to Vladivostok?”

  “You know the history. What happens in December of 1941, Fedorov?”

  “Japan…”

  “Yes, Japan. Well you will be very surprised to learn that they are more of a threat than you may know at the moment. I told you things had changed here, and you will be very shocked to learn that Russia no longer controls the port of Vladivostok.”

  “Sir?” Fedorov was playing out his role masterfully now, or so he thought, finally relieved to have the dangerous questions behind him.

  “Yes,” said Karpov. “They took the port from us after the Russo-Japanese war. Can you believe that? Russia has no port of call on the Pacific. In fact, the Japanese control all of what we might know as Primorskiy Province. They have troops as far inland as lake Baikal! I think we will have to see what we might do about that—about the Japanese. So I will need you soon, Fedorov. I will need your knowledge on all of this, and your good advice. If you get the time, you might bone up on that history.”

  “I will, sir.” Fedorov chose not to raise the obvious objection, that all of that would have happened well before Kirov ever arrived in the past. How could it be changed? At the moment, he just wanted this conversation to end.

  “Good then…” Karpov stood now, a satisfied look on his face as he made for the door. “Very well, I must go speak with Orlov now. See what you can do to help the men, Fedorov. I’m relying on you.”

  The Captain opened the door, stepping out into the looming shadow of Grilikov, who was waiting like a silent carved stone in the corridor. Then he leaned back in, a glint in his dark eyes.

  “Fedorov—that Royal Navy message protocol… That code word you used. Don’t forget to look up that reference and bring it to me please. I may have dealings with the Royal Navy as we go forward. And one last thing… When we met ashore, I did not say anything about a message coming from the future. Yes, I did speak of the message I carried to Volsky from Moscow, but I said nothing whatsoever about men from the future reading about us in their history books. But you did, or rather the Admiral put that notion into your head. I merely agreed with it.” He smiled, giving Fedorov a lingering look, then slowly closing the door as he left.

  That pulse of rising anxiety returned. Just when he thought he was safely across the river, Fedorov suddenly felt the ice beginning to crack beneath his feet! What was Karpov trying to say to him just now, that he saw through his ploy? It was very disconcerting, and Fedorov knew that his situation remained very shaky here.

  Karpov had not returned to the taunting diatribe he had opened with when he first saw the Admiral ashore, thought Fedorov. He said nothing about the truth, but that last statement he just made seemed to leave the whole question of my real identity open. Was he merely hedging his bet? Did he still harbor suspicions about me, or was he merely fishing with that line? I must continue to be very careful here.

  Yes, I was planning to see if I could slowly convince some of the other officers and crew of what has happened, and Karpov has just given me the perfect cover to do that. He’s asked me to go about the ship and brief the crew, but is he handing me the rope he will use to hang me? Suppose I tell Nikolin, to begin with someone I think I can work with here, or Zolkin. What if the Captain pulls Nikolin aside and grills him about things I’ve said? It was chilling there as he left, reminding me to bring him the reference on the Royal Navy message I sent. Now how in the world will I do that?

  He thought for a moment, then realized what he might do.

  I will simply have to fabricate this evidence. I can take a reference passage from one of my books and generate that content as a PDF. Then all I need do is edit that document. I can do the same with the Royal Navy code words, and simply add the word Geronimo, and I had better get that work done before I do another thing.

  Lord… It was an eerie thing to sit here with Karpov, both of us knowing everything that has happened, and yet both of us playing as though we were oblivious. Karpov is very clever. He’s changed, so very different now. He seems quieter, calmer, yet sinister in a way that is difficult to grasp. Does he know the real truth about me, or does he merely suspect? And I wonder what happened to the Captain we left here aboard the ship when we went ashore? That wasn’t the man I just spoke with. No. The man aboard this ship now is the Siberian Karpov. I’m certain of that. What has he done with his other self?

  And as for my situation, how much can I really divulge to anyone else here now? Who can I trust that would not break under Karpov’s suspicion, or interrogation? Nikolin is an easy man to convert to my side, but perhaps not reliable. Can you imagine what might happen if Karpov put Orlov onto him, or worse yet, that monster Grilikov? I think Zolkin would stand firm, and possibly Rodenko, and there is one other man I might go to—Troyak. The Sergeant was instrumental in our foiling Karpov’s first bid for the ship. I need Troyak more than ever now.

  But this is going to be very dangerous. First things first. Let me doctor those PDFs to clear up that threat, and then I’ll see what I can do with Zolkin and Troyak.

  Chapter 3

  “Sit down, Mister Orlov. We need to talk.”

  “As you wish, sir. About that incident in the Helo Bay—”

  “Forget that. Just be careful to listen to my
orders when I give them, and carry them out to the letter. I could see what happened there in a heartbeat. You got into something with Zykov, yes? He stood his ground, as any Marine would, and you put Grilikov on the man.”

  Now Karpov leveled a finger at the Chief.

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again. The Marines are a special detail aboard ship. You don’t supervise them, discipline them, or manage their work for them. You merely tell them what we want done, and then they do it. You are Chief of Operations, Orlov. Get that through your head and start acting like a senior officer, not some stupid lout willing to roll around in the mud with the likes of Zykov. He’s a fucking Corporal! I don’t know what you did there, or why, but you put yourself in a very bad situation just now. Start using your head with the men, and not those big arms and shoulders. Your authority here comes from the stars and bars on your shoulder, not the muscle beneath them. You don’t strong arm this crew, unless I give you a specific order to deal with a man that way. Understand?”

  Orlov nodded. “Like Fedorov,” he said sullenly, well chastened by the Captain’s remarks. He could still not understand why he felt so cowed by Karpov now. Yes, he looked a little different since he returned from that brief excursion ashore, but it wasn’t the subtle physical difference he noted—it was something else. Before, with Volsky here, Orlov felt himself almost an equal with Karpov, just a rung down on the ladder of command, even though he was really two grades in rank beneath the Captain.

  Yet now, with Volsky gone and Karpov elevated to full command of the ship, it was as if the man was a demigod. He was, in fact, the sole and final authority on the ship, and Orlov could feel those two grades of rank become a great chasm between them now. Yes, he was Chief of Operations, Chief of the Boat as the men sometimes called him, but he was at Karpov’s beck and call, and now there was another factor in the power equation here—Grilikov.