The moment was coming, thought Fedorov, for he knew what they were most likely to see now. Yet how to convince the Admiral and Karpov that these were old WWII class vessels? He reached quickly for his silhouette book from the small library he kept at his station, waiting tensely. There they were, three stacks amidships, slightly inclined, and the center stack thicker than the others. The ships looked to be approaching 10,000 tons, and he knew exactly what he was looking at.
“Very odd,” said Volsky. “That certainly does not appear to be a Type-45 destroyer, and they look much too big to be Norwegian or Danish frigates. They are certainly not Type-23 Class British frigates either. Am I correct, Mister Fedorov? You said you could identify these ships. Any thoughts?”
It had to begin somewhere, thought Fedorov. Yes, the insanity had to begin. It was already started, and well underway, except he was the only one who knew that now. So his course was clear, his mission obvious. This ship and crew would eventually determine that what he was now about to say was the truth, as impossible as it might sound. So there was nothing else to do here but to speak that truth, as convincingly as possible.
“Sir,” he said, clearing his voice as Karpov frowned at him again. “This will not make any sense, but I believe those are a pair of County Class heavy cruisers, Royal Navy ships. See the three stacks amidships? That is very distinctive of this class. There were several variations, and that would be in the Kent subclass. This other ship would be in the London subclass, but it’s very similar. I have the silhouettes right here, Admiral.” He held up his book, all the world’s fighting ships, and he was reaching for his pad device where he also had several applications stored with digital imagery of many WWII vessels.
“County Class?” Volsky adjusted his hat. “I am not familiar with that class. Is it something new? These ships do not look like anything else in active service with the Royal Navy.”
“Not in our day, sir.” He let slip that first subtle hint, but did not lean on it too heavily.
“Let me see that,” said Karpov, huffing over, an irritated expression on his face. He squinted at Fedorov’s book, hovering over his station like a shadow, his finger running down the ship silhouettes as he shook his head. “This is useless,” he said. “This is old data, Fedorov.”
“Here, sir,” Fedorov pointed. “Now have a look at that video feed.”
“Karpov glanced up at the screen, then back at Fedorov’s book, still shaking his head. “Yes, there is a clear resemblance, but you are seeing a bear in the kitchen, Fedorov. What is this, one of your old WWII books? Don’t be foolish.”
“But sir, look at those gun turrets on the video!”
Karpov looked again, a sudden silence settling over the bridge. The guns… yes, those nice big twin 8-inch gun turrets up front, in a shape and configuration that had not been used in naval ship design for decades. They were sure to get attention, a commanding presence even in this video feed. The image zoomed as the KA-226 switched to high powered optics, and the image focused to a sharper resolution. There was no hull number, but an obvious wartime camo scheme was painted on the hulls.
“Those are 203mm gun turrets, two forward and another two aft. This is a County Class vessel. I am certain of this. There was no other ship built to this configuration.”
“But certainly very old, yes Fedorov?” Said Volsky. “When might these have been built?” the Admiral swiveled in his chair, listening to what Fedorov was saying now.
“They were laid down in the mid 1920s, sir. May I ask Nikolin to do something here? I think it can solve this mystery once and for all.”
“More bright ideas, Lieutenant?” said Karpov, his tone obviously irritated. “You want to be Captain, Mister Fedorov? Then complete your training back in Severomorsk. Otherwise, leave these matters to the senior officers.”
“Just a moment,” said the Admiral. He had heard that Fedorov was a very astute young officer, and his file looked very promising. In his time aboard the ship, he had always found him competent and level headed, and his studious nature and penchant for naval history made him very likable in his eyes. “Let the Lieutenant speak,” he said. “Fedorov, what do you suggest?”
Karpov looked furious, but Fedorov knew he could not allow himself to be cowed by that man’s anger now, nor that of Orlov, who was also looking at him with a very unfriendly expression on his face.
“Sir… Have Nikolin send this—in English please. Geronimo, Geronimo, Geronimo. Home Flag respond as per fleet signals protocol one. That’s a command level channel for Royal Navy operations,” he explained to Volsky.
“What is going on here, Fedorov?” Karpov began to raise his voice. “Fleet signals protocol one? You are working for the Royal Navy now? Sit down and mind your damn station! Admiral, I recommend we increase to alert level one and prepare for combat. I don’t care who or what they are. Either they respond to our hails or we must take stronger measures.”
Nikolin looked from Karpov to Volsky, and then back to Fedorov. The tension on the bridge was thickening, and he did not know what he should do. Thankfully, the Admiral spoke next, and his authority was final.
“Mister Nikolin, I will indulge our young Lieutenant, for no better reason than the unpleasant alternative the Captain now insists upon. Send that message. I do not know what this is all about, Mister Fedorov, but the ship will also come to alert level one, and Mister Samsonov, you will now activate the forward 100mm bow gun.”
“All hands,” said Orlov on the intercom. “The ship will come to alert level one and man all battle stations!”
The loose end of Time’s tangled thread had come full circle, but the knot that would now be tied would have everything to do with the fate of all days to come.
Part XI
Chaos Zone
“There are only patterns, patterns on top of patterns, patterns that affect other patterns. Patterns hidden by patterns. Patterns within patterns. If you watch close, history does nothing but repeat itself.
What we call chaos is just patterns we haven't recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can't decipher.”
- Chuck Palahniuk - Survivor
Chapter 31
Azores, August 1, 1941
They sat in the Admiral’s stateroom aboard HMS Invincible, anchored in the channel between the small islands of Pico and Faial. Less than four miles wide at its narrowest point, the channel served as a makeshift harbor there between the small fishing ports of Horta and Madalena. Seven other merchant ships were clustered to one side of the channel, “the funnies,” as the navy rats called them now. There also, was the sleek white hull of the Argos Fire, its tall mainmast and prominent Sampson radar dome marking its lineage as a former Daring Class destroyer.
The long stately lines of HMS Hood also graced the anchorage, where both Admiral Holland, and the ship where he still set his flag, were enjoying the sweetness of a life they both might have lost months ago in another telling of these events. They had come late to the engagement with the Germans fought some weeks ago, but now formed an important part of the standing watch the British Home Fleet had established here, along with the Repulse, and the fleet’s newest addition, the battleship Duke of York. Her twin sister ships, King George V and Prince of Wales were both in the Celtic Sea with the carriers Ark Royal and Illustrious, enough power to face down the German fleet should it attempt to sortie again, at least until Tovey could hasten northwest from the Azores with reinforcements.
Two other light AA cruisers rode at anchor in the channel, and beyond them there were numerous destroyers keeping a watchful eye, though the presence of HMS Glorious in the Azores was a powerful deterrent to German U-boat activity in the vicinity. Her aircraft patrolled ceaselessly, keeping watch for U-boats on the surface, and the destroyers prowled the waters off the islands to listen for any boat bold enough to try and creep up submerged.
Captain MacRae had assured Admiral Tovey that he had sonar that was more than capable of detecting any undersea threats long bef
ore they could pose a danger, but the Admiral chose to maintain his regular ASW patrols nonetheless.
“Well now, Miss Fairchild, gentlemen, welcome aboard.” Fairchild was there with MacRae and Mack Morgan, and a third man dressed out in a white naval coat and trousers of the American Navy, a Lieutenant Commander by rank.
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting you sir,” said Tovey, extending a handshake. “Didn’t know you fellows were out here. I’m to understand that you are serving as a fleet liaison officer?”
“Forgive me, Admiral,” said the man. “I was introduced to you as Lieutenant Commander Wellings, USN, but I must confess that identity, and this uniform along with it, was put on simply for purposes of security. I am Professor Paul Dorland of the Lawrence Berkeley Labs in the United States, and I have recently met with Miss Fairchild and company concerning events that played out in the recent fleet action with the Germans.”
Tovey gave him a puzzled look. He had been told by Fairchild to expect a most unusual visitor for a very important discussion, though he did not yet know the details.
“I’m told you were with Captain Dalrymple-Hamilton aboard the Rodney, God rest her soul.”
“I was, sir.”
“He speaks well of you—says you did everything possible to persuade him to take a course that might have avoided that unlucky engagement he fought. A pity I couldn’t get there in time with Invincible to help out. Speed can make all the difference at sea, and I’m afraid that was not a strong suit for Rodney, or things might have turned out differently. But tell me, Professor, just what is it you do in this laboratory of yours, and why do I find you here, insisting on this meeting with these good people.” He gestured to the Fairchild camp, where they sat at the opposite end of the conference table.
“It concerns several matters you will be familiar with,” said Dorland. “The first is Rodney and the cargo it was secretly carrying in its hold, now unfortunately lost, at least for the moment. The second is the fate and whereabouts of another ship, the battlecruiser Kirov. As for my business in that laboratory, it would take some time to explain it. Suffice it to say that the facility could not be found if you were to travel to America at this moment—for it simply does not exist in 1941. Like your Russian allies, and Miss Fairchild and company, I have come here from the year 2021.”
“I see…” Tovey did not quite know what to make of that, though his experience with the Russians, and the Fairchild group had taken the sting and shock out of such a statement, and made the impossible real to him in more ways than one. There was Argos Fire, and seven other ships from 2021, their decks crewed by interlopers from that same future time. And in the deserts of North Africa, a brigade of extraordinary fighting men and machines still stood to arms for Britain, their very presence neutralizing the whole of General Rommel’s formidable Afrika Korps, and assuring the safety of the vital British bastions in Egypt.
“Quite a party you people are throwing here,” he said. “Will there be any more unexpected guests? And how you manage to come and go as you please I may never understand, but we’ll leave that off for the moment. What is it you have come to discuss?”
“Kirov,” said Dorland, “the ship that once went by the code name Geronimo when you first encountered it, though that moment is about to be re-written by events now underway. From my perspective in 2021, I have the advantage of history to let me look over my shoulder to these days and learn things that occurred. Unfortunately, circumstances are no longer the same here, and that history is now badly frayed. Whether it will ever be saved is in grave doubt.”
Tovey nodded. “Yet given what you have just said, you must certainly know the outcome of all these events.”
“That was once quite true,” said Dorland, “at least for the broad strokes of history. Most events in human experience go unrecorded, and only the big things stand the test of time and survive as recorded history. But now, not even that can be relied upon. The interventions made by this Russian ship have changed everything. From our vantage point in the future, we could see many of those changes manifesting as variations against the history we already knew. But when these things happen, it takes time for the changes to migrate forward to the future—to our time and beyond.”
“Yet the Russians were clearly aware of events about to unfold in this war—at least to some extent.”
“It is that certainty that is fading now,” said Dorland. “Nothing can be relied on in the history at this moment, particularly now, for we have entered what I call a kind of zone of chaos after the 28th of July. You are aware of the significance of this date?”
“I was told it was the date the Russians first arrived here. That was on Wake Walker’s beat, but I know this only because of a few very odd file boxes where I seem to have written up reports on the entire affair. They were found at Bletchley Park by our Mister Turing. I hoped he could be here for this meeting, but the plane is running late. Might you have any explanation?”
“Let me try,” said Paul. “Whenever something moves in time, it opens a temporary hole in the continuum, or to put it another way, it creates a little whirlpool in the stream and slips through. Sometimes other things can be dragged along with it, particularly things related to events it may have altered during its time in the past. As we have seen, those events can cause serious harm to the continuum of future events. So these little things can be very dangerous, like contaminates or waste byproducts from the intervention. The easiest way to think of it would be to imagine Mother Time trying to sweep up bits of broken China on her kitchen floor. Sometimes she can be very meticulous. Other times things can happen in a haphazard or random way, particularly in a Chaos Zone. That refers to intervals of instability that accompany objects and persons moving through time. And when we get an entire battlecruiser, with a crew of over 700 men doing that movement, the disturbance can be quite significant.”
Tovey was able to follow the logic of that easily enough. “According to the reports from my own hand, I didn’t personally encounter the Russian ship until August 4th, cruising south of Iceland. Are you saying that one of these chaos zones has formed around that date—the 28th of July? The young Russian Captain was particularly concerned about that day. He kept referring to it as a Paradox.”
“And rightly so,” said Dorland. “Well… It has just occurred, and because the Russian movements in time also took their ship as far back as 1908, changes that took place at that time have been migrating forward, and they have obviously reached the 1940s. This world seems quite different, a completely different history in many ways, though still very familiar to the history we knew in other aspects.”
“Yes,” said Tovey. “Now that you mention that, I believe my last statement was in error. I think I first set eyes on that Russian ship as a very young man, a Lieutenant serving aboard the armored cruiser King Alfred out of the China Station. We were involved in that big battle—the Second Battle of the Tushima Straits, and I’m certain it was the Russian ship we faced there—until it vanished, just as it did a few months ago while steaming some 500 meters off the very bow of this ship!”
“In fact,” said Dorland, “that was an alteration of your own personal timeline, or meridian as I use the term. You were never supposed to have seen that ship, and there was no such battle ever recorded in the history I know. These things all happened as a consequence of Kirov’s intervention in time. We only just perceived these variation flags in our research systems, and we have seen the changes occurring that far back, to 1908. Now changes from that day are reaching this time, though they have not yet reached my time in 2021. Think of these changes as moving in waves, like a tsunami, and they have finally reached this shore of 1941. Yet that date—July 28th—did indeed present a Paradox. The Russian ship was here, approaching it from the past, yet it was the date of its first appearance, so that would create quite a problem. Too many cooks spoil the broth. You say Kirov vanished in May, and there has been no further sign of it since that time?”
&nb
sp; “Not a whisper on the radio sets they left with me.”
“I beg your pardon… Radio sets?”
“Yes, they brought over some of their equipment to facilitate secure communications. I believe Miss Fairchild received it as well.”
“Confirmed,” said Elena. “We’ve a Russian set aboard the Argos Fire, for secure encrypted comm-links with Invincible and Kirov. The Russian Submarine has the same, but we’ve no contact with it.”
“Submarine?” Now Paul remembered that Nordhausen had mentioned he had data on that, along with a photo of these new ships at anchor, the funnies. “Yes, we just learned of that. Frankly, you can tell me much more about it than our researchers are likely to find.”
Elena took a moment to explain, as far as she had learned it from Fedorov, how the use of Rod-25 in conjunction with a nuclear reactor had enabled Kirov, and then Kazan, to move in time.
“Amazing,” said Paul, surprised to hear all of this. “Then that control rod was still aboard the Russian submarine?”
“As far as we know, though it may have been transferred back to Kirov. In any case, both vessels are gone now, and that all occurred during that little naval spat we recently concluded in May. I’m sorry to say there was a nuclear detonation involved as well.”
Now Fairchild told the professor about the presence of the Astute Class submarine, obviously escorting the small transport flotilla they had inherited.
Doppelganger Page 27
