Nemesis

by John Schettler

  He was here with Tunguska, and also the Narva and Riga had come north, as Sergei Kirov had agreed to turn those airships over to Karpov to augment his fleet. They were all close by, hovering low over a large inland lake just three miles to the southeast of the place where he stood, protected from the searching rays of the Fregat by a high green hill.

  Soon I will once again be back in my rightful post as Captain of that ship, and I suppose I had best make myself an Admiral now. We will head east, taking the northern route through the Arctic Sea before it closes, and I will be just where I need to be when the Japanese get restless in a few months time. The three airships will be a nice escort along the way, and I have a few other irons in the fire when we get out east.

  I paid a high price for this ship, turning the divisions I built and hardened into fighting men over to Kirov and Konev. One day I will return to the land to rightfully claim those legions as my own again, but in truth, I have always been a navy man. As for the airship fleet, I have plans for that as well. There will be Oko panel radar sets that I can take from stores on Kirov and mount on my ships to replace those old Topaz radars I rigged out. I will have situational awareness in the air that will be most useful. And for that matter, we have hand held missiles aboard that would augment my airship defenses considerably.

  This thought excited him. I can train and place a missile team on the upper gun platform mounted on the brow of my ships. Can you imagine the look on Volkov’s face when he sees the missiles launch, nice little needles, the a hand held SAMs used by the Marines? They also have anti tank missiles! Even an RPG-30 could blow one of Volkov’s airships to hell. They can range out only about 200 meters, but it would make a nasty surprise in a close quarters gun duel. And I think Troyak has a few other little goodies in his larders, Kornet ATGMs that can range out 5000 meters with a HEAT round. The EM variant uses laser targeting and even has a wonderful thermobaric warhead that can get out 10,000 meters. Talk about a bag buster! I could blow one of Volkov’s ships out of the sky before he even set eyes on me…

  But no, not me. My days as Admiral of the zeppelin fleet are now over, but I have a perfect candidate in mind for that post. As to Troyak, he could still be a problem. I’ll need to get to him early and win over his support. With him on my side, and Orlov, the crew will fall into line easily enough, and I’ll have my own security contingent aboard this time, and Grilikov. He smiled.

  He looked at his watch, a heady sense of anticipation filling his mind. By now Tyrenkov would have visited Troyak with that request to take the launch back to the ship and fetch the Captain. If all goes well, I will soon be the first man in the history of this earth to meet my very own self! I can only imagine what that will be like, for both of us. It is still unbelievable to think that he is out there at this very moment, the Devil’s Adjutant, waiting to take his place at my side. The shock will be much greater for him. I have this foreknowledge of his existence, while my sudden appearance will be a complete shock to him. For me, the notion of movement in time is now old hat, while he is probably out there struggling to understand what could have possibly happened to the ship, and to Severomorsk.

  Yes, this will be a most difficult homecoming for the Captain, but I dare say I know him quite well, and he will soon move in his mind from the incredulity of his situation to the opportunities it now presents. He smiled inwardly at that, remembering how he had felt when he first realized the impossible truth.

  It was like the floor falling away beneath my feet for a time, he thought, but then I quickly adapted. Then came all the hemming and hawing with Volsky and Fedorov over what to do next. That was obvious to me, but I’ll admit, I was a bit rash, and more than headstrong in the beginning. If I had it to do over, I might do things differently—and I do have that second chance, right now!

  At this moment, Britain was Russia’s ally, and that alliance will be necessary if we are to survive this war. So I can’t take my hard line against Great Britain and America, not yet. We’ll need them both if we are ever to defeat the Axis powers—and now we will defeat them, Volkov be damned. He’ll be the very first on my list, unless the Japanese start things early.

  He took a long breath, seeing it all in his mind now, and knowing exactly what he was going to do. But first things first. Time to meet the man who made me possible, my younger twin brother of sorts. Time to meet the Devil’s Adjutant.

  Chapter 21

  Troyak and Zykov were still amazed at the state of things here, unable to believe their eyes when they finally docked. Everything around them was obviously different. The shape of the hills, the land forms were all familiar, but where was the fleet? They were docked right where the main pier should be, and it was nothing like they had left it just days ago. None of them had been privy to any of the evidence bandied about by the senior officers. Seeing the Tuman had been enough of a surprise, and they were still trying to figure out what was going on with that ship. Now this! What had happened here? The Admiral had cautioned them that they might be in for another surprise.

  “My God,” said Zykov when Volsky and Fedorov left for the meeting. “What has happened to this place?”

  Troyak had a look on his gruff face that belied concern, but he could make no sense of things either. “Everything must be out to sea,” he suggested.

  “Yes? You mean like that old rust bucket we saw chugging by on the way in? Well did they take the whole goddamned city with them? The Admiral says to bear with the situation, but who could expect to see this?”

  “I wonder if they can see it from the ship?” said Gretchko.

  “Only if they have your cat’s eyes,” said Zykov. “That fog has spared them all this little surprise. What do you think has happened, Sergeant? Something is clearly amiss, and there’s some kind of operation going on out west. Hear that?” He paused, listening, and they could hear the muffled sound of artillery in the distance, faint and far away, though unmistakable to them all.

  “Is it war, Sergeant? Is that what the Admiral meant earlier? The men have been saying something killed Slava, and now I think they are right! Look at this place!”

  Troyak looked around, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said, his hand just a little tighter on the automatic weapon he carried.

  “Stand easy, the Admiral tells us. Fedorov will explain everything to us later. Well, that I would like to hear.” Zykov shook his head, clearly shocked by the scene around them. “I wonder if he finally botched his navigation charts and this is the wrong inlet? Maybe he took us into Port Vladimir by mistake?”

  They all knew it wasn’t Port Vladimir, a tiny outpost up near the entrance to Ura Bay, the next inlet to the west. No, it wasn’t Port Vladimir, nor was it Guba Ara, the still bay further west. But it wasn’t Severomorsk either, at least not the place they all knew so well, and nobody wanted to say anything more. They just sat there listening to the sound of a distant battle to the west, and not knowing they were hearing the far off tide of World War Two slowly rising, even here in this isolated northern outpost at the top of the earth.

  *

  Tyrenkov went down to the launch, walking slowly but deliberately along the quay, and alone. As he came up on the boat he noted how different it appeared compared to any other small boat that might be tied up here in the harbor. The sight of the massive battlecruiser riding out in the bay soon commanded his attention. So this is the apple in Karpov’s eye, he thought, the mighty Kirov. This was the ship that met and defeated all comers, a ship capable of standing against entire fleets of this day. Karpov’s interest in it is obvious, but finding that the Captain was his own self was certainly shocking. How could that be?

  Karpov lectured me time and again on how he could not reach certain moments in time were he to use the stairway at Ilanskiy. It would be impossible for him to go to any time or place where he already existed, or so he argued. Apparently he was wrong, for if this Captain is indeed his own self, things here are about to get very interesting, and very perilous. One su
ch man in the world is enough, but two? I shall have to see this man first, and make my own assessment.

  “Sergeant?” he called, seeing the dour faced Troyak waiting on the back of the boat, and noting the dangerous looking rifle he was holding, discretely lowered, but still a threatening presence.

  “What is it?” Troyak was looking the man over, noting his long, dark trench coat and military cap, of a style and cut that he was not familiar with.

  “Admiral Volsky is still in his meeting, yet I have been sent to request the presence of your Captain immediately. Can you bring him ashore?”

  “Very well, we will cast off and should return in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I will wait for you here, and then escort the Captain to the meeting place.”

  Troyak nodded to Zykov, who was listening from the cabin, and Gretchko untied the line as he started the engine. Tyrenkov watched the boat turn about, hoping there would be no difficulties here. He was not disappointed, for it was not long before he heard the sound of the motor again, returning through the low lying mist.

  There he was, thought Tyrenkov, watching closely to see a fourth man in the launch. How very strange…. In form and build the man looked very similar, and as the boat docked, he caught a glimpse of his face, a little younger looking, not so grim in aspect, and unscarred. Yet there was no denying the uncanny resemblance. He could be an identical twin, he thought, how extraordinary! He shook off his amazement, and extended a hand as the man climbed from the launch.

  “Captain?” he said, more a question than a greeting.

  “Vladimir Karpov,” the man said in response, and he noted that even his voice was identical in tone and timbre.

  “Yes sir, I am Tyrenkov, special adjutant for the discussions now underway. If you will kindly accompany me, I will take you to the meeting.”

  “Looks like we don’t get dinner after all,” said Zykov with a grin, thinking that might be their only consolation here.

  “Dinner?” Tyrenkov looked over his shoulder. “Oh yes, they will be serving food shortly. I will come and show you the way when the meeting is concluded. You are, of course, all invited.”

  That seemed to brighten Zykov’s expression, and the two men started down the long, muddy street, illuminated by a single lamppost.

  As they walked, Tyrenkov noted how the Captain seemed to gawk at the landscape about them, clearly surprised. “Has there been fighting here?” he asked, aghast at the condition of the harbor. “Were we hit?”

  “Fighting?” said Tyrenkov. “That’s all out west, but the Germans are pushing hard now. How much do you know, Captain, about what has happened to you and your ship? Have you been briefed at all?”

  “Briefed? Who could listen to such an explanation and not think himself insane.”

  “Understandable.”

  “And yet,” said Karpov, “seeing this gives me pause… You will also tell me what the Admiral asserted? This is 1941?”

  “I’m afraid so, quietly slipping toward the third of August.”

  “Yes, and watched by a moon that should not be in the sky, at least according to our Navigator. That I might have dismissed as an oversight, or misreading of the data, but not this…” He looked around, clearly disheartened.

  “Captain… I’m afraid there will be one more surprise this evening. There is someone here who wishes to speak with you in private.” They now came up to the unfinished building that Karpov had been waiting in, and Tyrenkov knocked firmly on the door.

  “Come…”

  “I have another matter to attend to,” said Tyrenkov. “This hour is yours.”

  Karpov did not know what to make of that, but he stepped up to the door, and opened it. The room was wreathed in shadow, and he edged inside, wondering what this was all about, his instincts prickling up, and speaking of danger here.

  Across the long unfinished room, the moonlight shone through the beams of an open ceiling, and some of the low fog and mist had found their way inside, seeming like cold grey smoke in the room. At the far end, he could see a shadowy figure, walking slowly towards him with measured steps.

  The Siberian walked toward his visitor, his heart beating faster as he took each of those steps, each footfall echoed by three or four beats. Then he stopped, as though he had struck something, and seemed to shudder. The pain!

  Instinctively, he stepped back, and the awful sensation abated. He looked, seeing the man across the room in a leather service jacket, and sheep’s wool cap, the garb he always wore when on his shift. My coat and cap, he thought, for there I am. The man took another two steps forward, and again the pain began, something deep within him, as though the very molecules of his being were shaken by a withering vibration.

  “Stop there!” he said, “Take a step back please….”

  The Captain heard that voice, and was shot through with surprise. It sounded like his own voice, though strangely different, like hearing yourself on a recording and thinking your voice sounded odd.

  “You are the ship’s Captain?” said the figure across the room, still wreathed in mist and shadow.

  “Captain of the First Rank, Vladimir Karpov.”

  The Siberian smiled, seeing how his visitor had pointed that little detail out, even as he might. “Well Captain, I am your long lost brother.”

  Karpov was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand. I have no brothers.”

  “Of course you don’t. You are an only child, and your parents were more than glad to see you off to the university. And you have seldom been home since. Well, how do you like this homecoming? Hardly a place we can call home anymore, is it?”

  The Captain wondered how this man could know that…. “Sir, may I ask who you are? And where is Admiral Volsky?”

  “Never mind him. You and I have business to discuss.”

  The man eased himself forward, feeling the pain begin yet again, and then he edged sideward’s instead, intending to move into the moonlight streaming through the open beam ceiling. As he did so, he heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man, but he said nothing, giving him the moment, letting him gape at him.

  “Good lord… How is this… Who are you?”

  “I am Vladimir Karpov, Captain of the First Rank, or at least I once was. Now some men call me Admiral, and soon they will call me Mister Secretary, General Secretary of the Free Siberian State. We bear a striking resemblance, do we not? Except for this little scar on my cheek. I was careless once, but no longer.”

  “Amazing,” said Karpov. “Resemblance? You can call me insane, but I might go so far as to say we were identical twins!”

  “That we are.”

  “But that isn’t possible,” said Karpov.

  “No, it shouldn’t be, or so I thought. But here we are. Don’t come any closer, please. It is a bit of a shock for us both, and you will be even more surprised to learn what I must tell you now…. Yes, you are Vladimir Karpov, and that is my name as well, not because of any coincidence, but due to something far stranger. I know you had a very rough time on the ship trying to discern what has happened to you after Orel blew up. So did I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I found it very difficult when that annoying little Navigator of ours started quoting me chapters from his history books.”

  “Fedorov? Yes, he can be quite the pest. You know the man? You know of what happened with Orel?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But how? We had no communication with Severomorsk, and now I see why. The place is gone, just as I suspected! Then we finally received that coded message.”

  “Yes. I sent that. Rather clever of me, wasn’t it?”

  “You sent it?” Karpov was still shaken by the uncanny resemblance of this man, and the sound of his voice, yet he was not certain who he was.

  “Yes, I sent it.”

  “Not possible. It used an authentication code that I only just learned when the message was received, and we opened the ship’s sa
fe.”

  “Yes? Well I opened the ship’s safe a good long while ago, and so the word, Nikolai, was well known to me.”

  “What do you mean? You were aboard the ship before we left? I would certainly have known that.”

  “Yes, I was aboard, and you did know about it…. How to say this without triggering that reflexive dismissal you will likely give. I was you, Karpov. In fact I am you. We are one and the same, and if you listen carefully, I will explain that statement. You have seen how clearly different this place is—Severomorsk. As annoying as he can be, our Mister Fedorov was correct. We are no longer in our own time. That accident aboard Orel had a good deal to do with it, but there was more. What happened was this—the ship moved, Captain, not much in space, but in time. So all the things Fedorov told you are true, and this is, indeed, the year 1941. Hear that? It’s the goddamned German army on the Litsa River line, trying to get through. But we’ll stop them. This place is so desolate now because everyone has moved out west to fight the Germans, and also because I made arrangements to see the harbor was clear for our little visit.”

  Karpov was shaking his head. “This doesn’t make any sense!”

  “No, it doesn’t, but it is true. Now, as to who I really am… the ship must have slipped through some hole in time, and then here it was, in the middle of WWII. It did this and it did that, and then it slipped again. I’ll make a very long story short. Eventually that ship out there found its way to the year 1940, a little over a year ago, and it has been here ever since, until it slipped again, vanishing last May.”