Kirov Saga:
Nemesis
By
John Schettler
A publication of: The Writing Shop Press
Nemesis Copyright©2015, John A. Schettler
KIROV SERIES:
The Kirov Saga: Season One
Kirov - Kirov Series - Volume 1
Cauldron Of Fire - Kirov Series - Volume 2
Pacific Storm - Kirov Series - Volume 3
Men Of War - Kirov Series - Volume 4
Nine Days Falling - Kirov Series - Volume 5
Fallen Angels - Kirov Series - Volume 6
Devil’s Garden - Kirov Series - Volume 7
Armageddon – Kirov Series – Volume 8
The Kirov Saga: Season Two
Altered States– Kirov Series – Volume 9
Darkest Hour– Kirov Series – Volume 10
Hinge Of Fate– Kirov Series – Volume 11
Three Kings – Kirov Series – Volume 12
Grand Alliance – Kirov Series – Volume 13
Hammer Of God – Kirov Series – Volume 14
Crescendo Of Doom – Kirov Series – Volume 15
Paradox Hour – Kirov Series – Volume 16
The Kirov Saga: Season Three
Doppelganger – Kirov Series – Volume 17
Nemesis – Kirov Series – Volume 18
More to come…
Kirov Saga:
Nemesis
By
John Schettler
Kirov Saga:
Nemesis
By
John Schettler
Author’s Note
Part I – Devil’s Bargain
Part II – The Mole
Part III – Conspiracy
Part IV – Trial by Fire
Part V – Coming Home
Part VI – Impossible
Part VII – Day of Reckoning
Part VIII – The Second Chance
Part IX – Onslaught
Part X – Typhoon
Part XI – Counterattack
Part XII – All Our Tomorrows
Time Travel Glossary
Author’s Note:
Dear Readers,
So Fedorov survived the hour that was so long in coming, a bit bewildered, but still his old self, with all his memories intact. Now he sits there aboard the ship, knowing everything you know, and what may soon happen. Join him as he struggles to forestall events that will rip the tattered fabric of time even further, doing damage that not even Professor Dorland could ever hope to repair.
And another man has survived, twice! Karpov has been Fedorov’s nemesis from the very first, yet now that threat is redoubled. You will soon see what the Siberian has planned, and it promises to take us all along that darkened pathway, through mayhem and madness.
Beginnings are delicate times, for people, plants, and even stories. In many ways, the events that brought us to Doppelganger are a new beginning to this long tale, and so I must water that ground and till the soil a bit at the outset here, to see what might grow. There will be a quiet echo in this new beginning, a little sense of déjà vu, but then this new story takes on a life of its own that will be much different. As always, the principle characters that are the Prime Movers in all of this will take us forward.
And then there is this war, with 1941 now wearing away, and the Germans coming to a most important decision point in the course of these events. I will be showing you all of that as well, and before this volume ends, we will be in the thick of things on the Eastern Front.
Again, many thanks for your loyalty to this story, and your continued support. When Admiral Volsky addressed the crew in that last P.A. announcement before the final shift, I was speaking through him to all of you. “We stand now aboard the finest ship on this earth, and you are the finest crew to ever stand a watch at sea, as god is my witness. And so I thank you—for your courage… for your perseverance… for your steadfast loyalty… for Kirov…”
- John Schettler
Part I
Devil’s Bargain
“A brave man is a man who dares to look the Devil in the face and tell him he’s a Devil.”
― James A. Garfield
Chapter 1
Karpov eased into the chair, feeling the plush cushion belying the hard bargain he had come here to strike. He thought how strange it was that the iron forging nations and empires was so often hammered here in the midst of all this splendor and refinement. He looked at the gold rivets detailing the furniture, the well lacquered table, the perfect sterling silverware, the well styled samovar there. The carpet was thick beneath his feet, a measure of respect he had gained now that the fate of Soviet Russia might lie within his compass rose. He took one last look, admiring the high arched ceiling and crystal chandelier with a smile.
The reception had been even grander than before, a full honor guard, the Moscow Band, all diplomatic protocols reserved for proper heads of state. Yet he was under no illusions in spite of the gilded surroundings he found himself in. This was another kind of war here, he thought, and I am here to win.
“The General Secretary of the Soviet State of Russia!”
The tall door opened, easily three times the height of the man that now walked through it into the room, and Karpov stood as he entered, one hand holding his leather gloves, which he had correctly removed for the handshake that the two men would now exchange. So it begins, he thought, with an open hand to show that no weapon is held, a willingness to find tryst with reason and common interest, a gesture of good intentions.
Kirov strode up, wearing the same grey suit and trousers as Karpov had remembered him before. His smile was warm and genuine, but the eyes… yes, the eyes seemed deeper set in his round face, the hair just a little unkempt, the cheeks just a little more taut.
“Vladimir,” said Kirov, “bold enough to use his guest’s first name as the two men shook hands. “It has been too long since I welcomed you here. Forgive me, but as you might deduce, I have been somewhat busy in the last few months.”
“No doubt,” said Karpov. “Uninvited guests for dinner can be most unsettling.”
“Particularly when they ride in on tanks and dive bombers,” said Kirov, gesturing to the chair as the two men seated themselves at the table. “May I offer you tea?”
“Thank you,” said Karpov, watching the slow, deliberate pour, and noting that there was just the slightest tremor in the other man’s hand now. Kirov nodded agreeably, and the two men raised the cups to drink, no toast spoken, as such would never be offered with tea. This was just the opening, he knew, the vodka comes later, assuming we can reach an understanding here, assuming I get everything I came here for, and one thing in particular. This will be very interesting.
“You are wondering when we plan to open the offensive on the upper Volga.” Kirov wasted no time getting the talks started.
“The thought had crossed my mind,” said Karpov. “My Guards have already secured a bridgehead north of Ufa, and I have fifteen divisions there now.”
“Excellent,” said Kirov. “Just as you promised. And the volunteers you sent me were also very timely, but quite frankly, we need more. Our counterattacks have been ill timed, and largely unsuccessful.”
“Tanks,” said Karpov. “You must have several tank corps positioned behind the intended point of breakthrough, armored chariots to race through the gaps and raise hell beyond. Otherwise the advance is limited to the speed of your ground troops.”
“A lesson I have now learned well enough,” said Kirov. “Yet building those tanks takes time. I thank you for your preparations on the upper Volga. Unfortunately, I must tell you we have no immediate plans to attack there any time soon.”
“Oh?” Karpov raised an eyebrow. “And why not?” he asked, though
he knew the answer to his question well enough. Tyrenkov had briefed him very well before this meeting, and he knew that the situation in the south was now very grave. The Germans had taken Kiev and were massing again to continue that offensive. If they broke out, and Karpov knew they would, then the entire line of the Dnieper would be compromised.
“Trouble in the south,” said Kirov matter of factly. “They have a strong group in the Dnieper Bend between Dnepropetrovsk and Zaporozhe. Beyond that, Volkov’s little offensive over the Volga has required attention. It was necessary to move the 51st Reserve Army there to contain that attack. Now we plan to take Kamyshin and tidy things up.”
“We needed that army in the north,” said Karpov. “There is no way we can mass sufficient force to break Volkov’s 1st Army defense line without it.”
“Unfortunately, the danger is on the Dnieper now, and I must focus all my attention there. My generals have told me it is too early to plan this big attack against Volkov, and now I must listen to them. In truth, I should have dealt with that bastard in 1940, before the Germans massed to attack.”
“We weren’t ready,” said Karpov. “There was that squabble over Omsk, and those foolish Zeppelin raids Volkov mounted. I nearly had him by the cheek, Kirov. I was that close to catching that old rat, but he managed to slip away.”
“I’m told you took heavy casualties.”
“He took worse,” said Karpov quickly. “And if he dares another little foray like that, he’ll get the same treatment again. “My airship building program is advancing nicely. I’ll be adding another T-Class ship this month, and we have two more under construction. But that is one thing I have come to ask of you today. Can you spare your northern airship fleet? There is little activity there, and I could put those ships to very good use.”
“Considering your commitment on the upper Volga,” said Kirov, “I will cut the orders today. You can have both the Riga, and the Narva.”
“Excellent.”
“Yet I have a few requests myself,” said Kirov. “Don’t be discouraged over this cancelled offensive. Your men can still play a most important role there now.”
“In what way? We cannot attack alone. We simply have no armor to speak of, and artillery is very thin.” Karpov was running down his list of hardware now, things he hoped to secure from these negotiations, which seemed headed the right direction, in spite of the disappointment of having to cancel the upper Volga offensive.
Kirov took a long sip of tea. “I want you to extend your frontage from the river to Artemyevsk.”
“What? You mean to hold a defensive line?”
“Correct. I need to pull out the 50th Army as well, and if your men can take over their positions…”
“I see,” said Karpov. “The situation in the south is worse than you let on.”
“At the moment we are holding, but that may change. That German SS Korps has given us fits. It has led the assault from the very beginning, and those troops are damn near impossible to stop. I’ve thrown one army after another onto the line, and they cut right through like a buzz saw through bad wood.”
“So now you want to throw the 50th Army into the lumber mill,” said Karpov, trying to feign disapproval. Then he adopted a well rehearsed pose, nodding his head, for Tyrenkov had told him of the orders cut to 50th Army to make ready to move by rail, and he knew this four days ago.
“Then there will be no offensive on the upper Volga for some time,” he said feigning dejection. “That is not unless I conduct it with Siberian troops. I would willingly do so, but as I have said—we need tanks and artillery badly, and air support.”
“Suppose I promised you all three in abundance,” said Kirov, pressing on to his next agenda item. “We are planning the formation of several new shock armies. Zhukov has convinced me that we must build up strong reserves, and if we ever do plan to take the offensive, we will need good shock troops to lead the way. Yet at the moment, all my reserve divisions are being pulled into the front, from Smolensk to the Sea of Azov. But if you have the manpower, good fighting men and officers, then I can equip them. How does First Siberian Shock Army sound?” There was a glint in Kirov’s eye, as this was the principle thing he needed from Karpov now. He was already raising divisions as fast as he could, but he needed to prepare some stronger reserve force to plan for his winter offensive. So he quickly explained.
“We won’t be able to attack until winter,” he said. “When the snows come, we can get over the frozen rivers better, and we know how to fight in the cold. Yes, General Winter is coming to our side soon, but he needs men, Karpov. He needs the hard fighting Siberians! So this is what I propose. You send me the volunteers. We can marshal them at Perm, Kazan, or even Gorky. I’ll give them rifles, machineguns, mortars, artillery, transport—hell, I’ll even give them skis. I want to build five Shock Armies, and they will put you right in the heart of our winter offensive.”
“Where?” said Karpov, thinking.
“That we cannot yet say,” said Kirov. “Who knows where the front will be when the time comes to commit these armies?”
“You plan to use them against Volkov?”
“Against the Germans as well. They will form our joint strategic reserve.”
“Under my command?” Karpov inclined his head, and Kirov knew this was the real sticking point.
“I thought you were a navy man,” he began. “Yes, you’ve managed to hold Volkov at bay on the Ob River line, and I have no doubt that if you were to command the force I envision building, that you would crush him there. But that is far from Moscow, Admiral.” The use of the title deliberately underscored Karpov’s naval background. “To be forthright, I was considering Konev. He’s fought well in the Caucasus, a veteran field commander.”
Karpov was clearly not happy to hear this, and now the look on his face was not rehearsed. “You want to raise five new armies, and with Siberian troops, and give them to Konev? Kolchak will go ballistic.”
“Kolchak?” Kirov restrained a laugh. “You and I both know he isn’t going to end up running things in Siberia. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve kept him around for so long.”
Now Karpov took a moment to consider. He had only just given Tyrenkov orders to plan the removal of Kolchak. Could Kirov’s intelligence teams have picked that up so soon? He most certainly had men in Siberia—probably right there where I set my headquarters at Ilanskiy. They were undoubtedly reporting back on the progress of my restoration of that railway inn, but how much did Kirov really know?
“What you say is correct,” he began slowly. “Kolchak is an idiot, and a nuisance.”
“That is an understatement. The man is a Capitalist masquerading as a patriot. He had the temerity to declare himself Supreme Ruler of all Russia! He’s turned nationalized farms and factories back over to their private owners, abolished trade unions, disbanded Soviet Cadres, re-instituted laws guaranteeing private property. The man is more than a nuisance. That little display he put on in Yekaterinburg should be enough to see him hanged—25,000 killed and tortured under his anti-Bolshevik edicts. Now he’s worried about the Japanese, while Germany devours half the nation! They are all alike, Kolchak, Kornilov, Denekin, Wrangel, and Volkov. They are all traitors to their own homeland, and to the Revolution.”
“Yes,” said Karpov, “Kolchak is worried about the Japanese. He was a hero during the Russo-Japanese war, but any fool can read a map and realize they have no further ambitions in Siberia. No. They will strike south, as you well know.” He gave Kirov a knowing glance, as he had suspected for some time that the Soviet leader had learned more of the history of this war than he ever let on.
“Of course they will strike south, yet not for many months. By that time I would expect you will have taken care of the Kolchak matter, and that will allow you to take full control of all Siberian war resources—all the divisions Kolchak is wasting in the Trans-Baikal region. You’ll know what to do with them. If you cannot wait for our support on the upper Volga, then you can m
ove troops from that front to your Ob River line. Be a general there, if you wish.”
“But hand over troops to build five armies for Konev and stay out of things—is that it? This is what you asked this meeting for?”
Now Kirov set his tea aside, folding his arms. He looked Karpov squarely in the eye, and spoke. “Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “And I’ll be frank and say one more thing, Karpov. You’re a bit of a devil from my perspective. I would have outmaneuvered Kolchak soon, were it not for bigger fish to fry in Volkov. Then you come on the scene, from nowhere, and we both know that isn’t too far from the truth. You come on the scene, and suddenly all of Western Siberia is up in arms in a way Kolchak could have never engineered. You’re a sly devil too, working quietly behind the scenes and posing as an Admiral with your little airship fleet. But what you really want is power on the ground, which is why the thought of sending me the troops to build five shock armies, and then giving them to Konev, is so disagreeable to you now. Yet it is either that or you can continue raising these Cossack and Tartar cavalry regiments, and we both know how far they will get you in this war.”
The man’s honesty stung for a moment, and Karpov restrained the urge to hit back, for this wasn’t the time or place to square off with Sergei Kirov.
“You are making this a condition for the arms support I’m asking for?”
“That’s the bargain,” said Kirov. “You send me the manpower, and I’ll equip these men and build five shock armies for our winter offensive—our offensive, Karpov. You will be right here at the planning table with me.”
Karpov pursed his lips, hesitating, yet knowing this was exactly the time to put one last twist on these negotiations. “Very well,” he said. “I will agree to this, but with one caveat. There is something I want from you beyond a couple of airships and the promise of tanks and artillery. First off, let’s make sure those promises are well kept. For every tank and artillery piece you build for these new shock armies, I get one to equip my own divisions—tit for tat.”
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