Nemesis Read online

  “Zampolit? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play stupid with me. You’re a conniving little shit, always hiding behind your books and spouting off facts and figures like you were some kind of academy instructor. Well the Captain doesn’t need your opinions on the bridge, and I’m also tired of listening to you. When you take your damn station, mind your goddamned business, and leave the ship to the senior officers, or I’ll run your nose into that bowl of oatmeal.”

  Fedorov took a deep breath. He knew this was coming, as he had seen it a hundred times before on the ship. Orlov would brood and bother a man until he had him well cowed, and then he’d start getting physical, a push on the shoulder, the hard poke of a finger on the chest, a cuff on the side of the head. The men took it, as Orlov was Chief of Operations, with authority to make or break crew shift assignments, and he could make a man miserable for months on end if he decided to do so.

  But Fedorov was not the same man he had been when the ship first arrived. He had been through too much, seen agony and fire, and the anguish of the world twisted into this impossible new shape, with much of the blame for it to be laid right at the feet of this man across the dining room table. He knew what Orlov had done, and what he might soon do again, siding with Karpov in an attempt to take the ship from Volsky, though he hoped that would not happen this time. Beyond that, it was Orlov’s surly nature and his inherent discontent that had seen him jump ship, jump from that helicopter in the Med, which set in motion a chain of events that had led Fedorov to that railway inn at Ilanskiy, and everything that followed.

  He had thought about this many times, blaming himself first, but also realizing that he would have never found himself at that rail depot if not for Orlov’s shenanigans. Then there was that incident in Siberia, the Devil’s Teardrop, and all it led to. That had been a stroke of fortune, possibly the only thing that had prevented the Germans, and Rommel, from running the British out of Egypt earlier this year. Yet the implications of Brigadier Kinlan’s presence here in this world were still too staggering for him to contemplate, and he had no way of knowing whether this apparent saving grace for the British would lead to something incomprehensibly dark in the years ahead. The real war here was only just beginning…

  So here was Orlov, a key lever on all these events, and yet completely oblivious of his part in it all. Even the Orlov he had known before Kirov made that last shift seemed blithely unaware of all he had set in motion, and all the consequences that now lay piled at his feet. He was still dawdling about as always, happy to be reinstated as Operations Chief, still pushy with the men, though many no longer would take his guff. And Fedorov decided the man he was now could not take it either. So he leaned right across the table to meet Orlov eye to eye, and spoke his mind here, even as he had on the bridge.

  “Listen Orlov, you lord it over the matocs and mishman below decks, because they’ll take it, and there isn’t much they can do about it. Yes? But I’m a Senior Lieutenant in the regular bridge rotation—lead Navigator. I’m an officer, understand? With me its Russian naval regulations and command protocols that do the pushing, not those big arms of yours. So don’t throw your line about making my life miserable in the water here, because I’m not biting. I was well within my rights to speak up on the bridge. Any officer there could do the same. As for this business about my being a Zampolit, you know damn well that’s nonsense. There’s more going on here than you realize just now, but mark my words, you will understand it all soon enough. In the meantime, don’t get any ideas about running your tough guy routine on me, because I can do something about it, and I will.”

  Orlov was momentarily stunned, for he had not expected any such resolve from Fedorov, and he was genuinely surprised. Yet soon the flare of anger rose in him, as he realized that this Lieutenant had just told him, in effect, to mind his own business or go to hell. His face registered his displeasure, the anger evident in his dark eyes.

  “You little shit,” he said darkly. “What are you going to do if I decide to stick my fist in your mouth Fedorov, run to Volsky? You want to go see the Doctor again? I can send you there.”

  “Try it, and I’ll bring formal charges for unlawfully assaulting a fellow officer. You have no cause to lay your hands on me, or any other member of this crew, for that matter. People turn their heads at the things you do on this ship, because you get the work done, but believe me, the crew doesn’t like the treatment you dish out, and they don’t like you either, Orlov. As for that message I asked the Admiral to send, it was just a simple command protocol used in the Royal Navy. Yes, I read about it in one of my goddamned books. That’s who we were dealing with out there, and you could see what Karpov was working up to as well as I could. He thinks this was a deliberate attack on us, but he’s wrong. Once the missiles fly you can’t call them back. The Captain thinks we’re at war, and he wants to join right in. The Admiral was disabled, and so I felt it was my duty to speak. Use your head sometime, instead of those fists. What if Karpov had fired on those British cruisers?”

  He let that hang there, and he could see how the implications finally registered on Orlov’s face, behind the red anger he was barely managing to contain. Then his eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms, leaning back, sizing up Fedorov in a new light, as though he were someone he had never even met.

  “Karpov was right about you,” he said. “You aren’t the same, Fedorov. I’ll tell you what’s odd here, he said to me—Fedorov. He gets that knock on the head and it’s as if he’s not even the same man any longer. And now I see what he means. That business about you being a Zampolit may not be too far off the mark, whether you deny it or not. You know damn well that you would never run your mouth like this with me before, unless you had cover. I guess you think the Admiral will give you that, First Lieutenant.” He leaned heavily on that, the derision obvious in his tone.

  “Well I’m an officer in the Russian Navy too, Fedorov—Captain of the third rank. You see that third stripe here on my jacket cuff? See that nice big star on my collar? Ever hear of insubordination? I can make a charge like that stick real easy. So suppose I call your bluff and do something about all this—something you won’t like at all?”

  “Then do it!” Fedorov actually raised his voice now. “And when you’re done, make sure you have plenty of time set aside to write up your report, because you are going to have to account for any action you take here, chapter and verse, we all are. Karpov thinks we’re heading home to a board of inquiry now. If that is so, then I’ll have to write my testimony up for the Inspector General, just like he will… Just like you will, Chief of the Boat.”

  Orlov gave him a well practiced sneer, but Fedorov knew the worst was over now. He had surprised the Chief by having the backbone to stand his ground, and like all bullies, Orlov could sense real resolve when he saw it, and so he thought twice about carrying out his threat, and Fedorov knew that.

  “Big Mister Fedorov,” said Orlov, shaking his head. “Well you are much more than you used to be, and that’s clear enough. Karpov thinks you’re a little rat. He thinks some kind of conspiracy is underfoot here, and maybe he’s right. Who knows, maybe you are a stinking Zampolit after all. We may soon find that out. And if you are, I’ll visit you again one day… count on that. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping a very hard eye on you, Fedorov. I’ll be shadowing every footstep you take. Understand? You don’t pull any shit here on my watch, cause if you do, you won’t have those two stripes on your cuff for very long. I’ll make certain of that. Yes, I write reports too. But you know what we used to do with little rats like you on the street? Put them on report? No, my friend. Going to run to Volsky? Little snitches like you come to a real bad end.”

  Now the Chief just smiled, a glaring gloat of a smile as he slowly stood up, deliberately knocking Fedorov’s tea cup and soiling the white linen tablecloth, and Fedorov’s jacket cuff as well.

  “Oh my,” he said with a grin. “How clumsy of me. You going to write tha
t in your testimony Fedorov? Looks like I soiled your jacket cuff—by accident of course. You going to lift another Captain’s coat like you did the other morning when you showed up on the bridge? Who’s coat was that, anyway?” He gave Fedorov a long look, and then started away. “See you around, Mister Senior Lieutenant.”

  Fedorov took a deep breath, sopping up the spilled tea with his linen napkin. That was inevitable, he thought. Orlov didn’t have the guts to do what he was threatening, so he swatted the teacup instead. That line I gave him about writing up his report gave the man pause. Yet what he doesn’t realize is that there will be no report, no inquiry, no Inspector General, at least not yet. None of them realize that yet, but one day I will have to sit down and have another long talk with the Chief. One day he will have to know what he did on this ship, and after… They all will.

  We’re heading home, he thought. By now we’ll be up rounding the North Cape if we kept on at 20 knots, and I did not hear the ship change speeds at all last night. The North Cape… The Germans are there. They’ll have planes up, possibly even U-Boats or destroyers on patrol as well. Things are coming to a head, and very soon. How should I handle this?

  I could go to Volsky right now, and lay it all out for him. I could tell him what we may soon be facing. Would he believe me, or would I sound crazy again? Zolkin was watching me very closely the last time I was there. It was clear that he was still trying to assess my mental condition after that fall I took. So I need to be careful here, yet time is running out. I have to find some way to convince the Admiral that what I am saying is true. The moon should have been evidence enough. That single fact cements our position in time here, and with no uncertainty. Did Volsky believe me? The Admiral is no fool. He’ll be thinking about what I said. I’m sure of it.

  If I go now, and tell him what I think will soon happen when we round the cape, then events may soon make the strongest possible case for me. The Germans are there, and if they find us, then they will attack, I have no doubt about that. Then Karpov will get what he’s been wanting all along, but he may be quite surprised when no missiles come our way, and we get a flight of Stuka dive bombers instead! Then he’ll get his little war, the war now, the war later. It’s all the same. Once he was instrumental in trying to prevent what we know is going to happen in 2021. He stayed his hand, and with a submarine threat, and that took something in the man that may still be there. He hasn’t fallen into the delusion that he can single handedly dominate the world yet—as long as he has this ship…

  But he’s acting Captain now, and so I’ll have to be cautious with him, and play things by the book. Yes, he may soon get his war, but it will be much more of a fight than he realizes, for us, and for the Germans too. Better the Germans than the Royal Navy if it comes to that. It’s what we decided, to stand with Britain. So if we do run into trouble today, and Karpov opens fire, then we’re at least likely to find ourselves on the correct side in this war. After all, Britain is allied with the Soviet Union, but at the moment, they have no idea of what has really happened here.

  Now thoughts of home came to him, Severomorsk, Murmansk, what would be happening there? He flipped through the pages of his history books in his mind. The Germans will have a couple divisions up north, pushing at the Soviet defensive Perimeter, and trying to take Murmansk.

  I wish I could just look it all up in my books, he thought, but things have changed. From what I’ve been able to determine, this is the same world I was in before—an altered state of reality. Nikolin told me he heard something about fighting on the Volga on the radio last night. That has to be Volkov, because the Germans were nowhere near the Volga at this time in the war. Things in my Naval Chronology will likely be all mixed up, but it was odd how some aspects of the history rang true.

  He thought of his analogy of the broken mirror now, as he had explained it to the Admiral once. The overall image may be cracked and distorted, but in places, that mirror reflected just as it always had, and things were very much the same. Could this be a little unblemished piece of that looking glass? Even if the history here had changed, might he find out that some things hold for this time? He had been reading about this period the previous night in his quarters, wondering. The British had two submarines up here operating out of Murmansk, Tigris and Trident. On the 11th of August, according to his chronology, they operated in the Svaerholt inlet of the North Cape. The Soviets had several submarines there as well. We are very near that area, and if Tasarov hears something, Karpov could go off like a firecracker. Suppose he sinks a British sub?

  One worry piled on another now, and he could feel that rising pulse of adrenaline. Action on the North Cape was the least of his worries, but it would be very dangerous. Karpov would see every contact as hostile. He might even fire on a Soviet Sub. Beyond all that, what about Severomorsk? It wouldn’t be the same, and the Admiral would know that soon enough.

  The Admiral…

  He wanted to get to Volsky one last time before events began to get out of hand. Yet, even as he stood up, the alarm sounded and he could hear Rodenko’s voice announcing a level two alert. It was beginning…

  Part IV

  Trial of Fire

  “Some say the world will end in fire,

  Some say in ice.

  From what I've tasted of desire

  I hold with those who favor fire.

  But if it had to perish twice,

  I think I know enough of hate

  To say that for destruction ice

  Is also great

  And would suffice.”

  ― Robert Frost: Fire and Ice

  Chapter 10

  Fedorov was up and out into the passage aft and looking for any ladder down, bound for sick bay with a hurried urgency. All around him, men were also rushing to man their level two battle stations, some donning protective gear, others grouping into damage control teams, most headed for some post serving one of the ship’s weapons or radars. So his haste was unnoticed, seeming part of this well practiced drill, and he made it to sick bay in a few minutes, yet was so driven that he burst in through the half open hatch without knocking. There, to his great surprise, stood the Captain, turning his head with a frown when he saw who it was.

  Fedorov caught his breath, seeing the Admiral sitting up on the cot, a breakfast tray still on his lap, and Doctor Zolkin dutifully on a chair at his desk, arms folded, head inclined as though the men were in the midst of some important discussion.

  “Mister Fedorov,” said Zolkin. “I’ve seen entirely too much of you in recent days. Don’t tell me you’ve taken ill again.”

  “Excuse me… I didn’t mean to barge in like this…”

  “Well that is exactly what you did,” said Karpov. “Try a few knuckles on the hatch next time, or perhaps on your head, Lieutenant.”

  “What did you need, Mister Fedorov?” The Admiral gave him an expectant look. “It appears you are in some hurry.”

  “This is a command level conference, Fedorov,” said Karpov. “Whatever it is can wait. Shouldn’t you be at your action station?”

  “I’m sorry sir, of course.” Fedorov started to back out, frustrated at his bad luck, but Admiral Volsky stopped him.

  “Stand where you are, Mister Fedorov. I wish to speak with you as well.”

  “Admiral?” Karpov gave Volsky a disapproving look.

  “Bear with me, Captain. It seems the two of you have had some kind of falling out.”

  “Nothing of the kind,” said Karpov. “The Lieutenant here simply gets in the middle of my business with alarming regularity since that accident, and he’s been spouting a raft of nonsense ever since.”

  “Well I would like to invite him to this conference.”

  “Sir?” Karpov’s displeasure was obvious. “What could he possibly contribute here? This is business for the senior officers.”

  “Well, the last time I looked at his file, our Navigator here was listed as a First Lieutenant. Yes? And not everything he has come forward with in these
last few days has been nonsense, Captain. Now… I can hear that level two alarm clearly enough, so we’ll be brief here. You say you ordered Rodenko to elevate the ship’s readiness state?”

  “Yes sir. We have contacts to both north and south, and now an aircraft at the hundred kilometer mark, low and slow.”

  “The surface contacts are on radar?”

  “No Admiral. Tasarov reported screw noise of an undetermined nature. He was able to ascertain bearing and is processing for speed and accurate range now. I should know more when I return to the bridge, but these were high speed screw rotations, this seems too unlikely a scenario in this region. I suspect a well laid trap has been sprung here.”

  “A trap? Then you assume these contacts are hostile?”

  “I must do so, sir, particularly given our present circumstances. We’ve lost two thirds of our task force, and still do not know why, and we’ve received an emergency recall order from Moscow, and are now steaming under wartime protocols, under radio silence. Any contact is therefore to be regarded as hostile until we determine otherwise. High speed screw noise is a clear and obvious threat. You don’t get that from tram steamers and trawlers. These must be NATO combat vessels.”

  “Yet we had nothing in our briefing indicating they would be here,” said Volsky. “Naval intelligence scoured our route for the outward leg of this deployment, as always, and the seas were clear.”

  “Well that has obviously changed. I expect the southern contact has come up from Tromso. They know we’re here, sir, and they have to know what happened to Slava. They were most likely responsible!”

  “That has not been determined, Mister Karpov, but I agree that the alert was correctly ordered. Alright… As to what’s been going on between the two of you…” Volsky paused, his eyes concerned, and he gave Doctor Zolkin a quiet glance. “Captain, did the Lieutenant here come to you with concerns about our present situation?”