Winter Storm (2 page)

“The
moon?”

“Yes
sir. It was all wrong, phase and position, just as I told you, and the only
time period where the current data was valid was this time, 1941.”

“Ah… Yes,”
Karpov realized this must have been something Fedorov presented to his other
self. The moon was wrong, something a navigator could not fail to notice. “You
put the clues together very well, Mister Fedorov, and very quickly too. It was
as if you knew what had happened to us all along.”

A thrum
of anxiety underscored that remark in Fedorov’s chest. “I suspected, and
strongly, that the ship was not where it belonged. It wasn’t just the moon,
sir. The radio signals, those ships, were all evidence I could not easily
dismiss.”

“Then
you got that message protocol from one of your books?”

“Yes
sir.”

“May I
see it please?”

Again
the rising adrenaline, for Fedorov knew damn well that he could not produce
that evidence. What to do? “It isn’t here, sir. I think I was researching that
at my station on the bridge. But I’ll bring it to you.” How he would manage
that, Fedorov did not yet know, but he had to seem fully cooperative, or his
cover might be shredded here and now.

“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.

“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
conditions.” 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.