“Fedorov used that word—Geronimo? You are certain of this?”
“Just as I told you.”
“And he used it before you received this message?”
“Correct. He urged the Admiral to send that code, and Volsky went along. Can you believe that? It could have meant anything. It could have been a signal to attack, and I was very suspicious of him after that.”
“Well, well, well… The Siberian’s eyes narrowed with thought. “He did not get that from any of his books, brother. It is something that would only be known to someone living in this era… Unless…”
The Siberian’s mind was running through every possibility now. Clearly this man before him was unknowing, an innocent untried version of his own self, who was only just beginning to come to terms with this incredible story. If that were so, then every member of the crew should be equally oblivious. So how could Fedorov have known that code word? Could it be that the events of the 28th also physically changed the contents of his history books? Is that where he learned of it? Could he have discovered evidence of the first coming right there in his own little library? That would be very odd, but also very important if it actually happened. I must grill the man about it, and find out what occurred.
“Something wrong?” asked the Captain.
“Just an oddity,” said the Siberian, one of those dangling threads in the tapestry that seems ill considered. I will think about this, and get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, I had Tyrenkov go fetch Troyak and the Marines from the launch, and feed them well. Now it’s time to board the ship. I wish you could be at my side, brother, but you can see this is for the best, at least until the crew is brought over the line.”
“Then where will I go?”
“With Tyrenkov, to the airships. Board Tunguska and tell the Air Commandant to make ready to depart. Remember, you are the supreme authority aboard that ship. The man’s name is Bogrov, competent, a good airship Captain, but he is not a fighting soul. Take the three ships up to the Kara Sea, and hover there to wait for us. We will join you soon.”
“Very well, but just one thing,” said the Captain. “You look… different. What if they realize…”
“Ah yes, the scar. Don’t worry, I’ve considered every detail of this operation.” He reached into his pocket and produced the gauze he had worn when speaking with Volsky and Fedorov. “I will wear this for a few days. The roads are muddy here, and I will just tell Rodenko I slipped and fell—cut my cheek on a piece of scrap metal. After a few days, that should explain the scar.”
“What about Zolkin?” said the Captain. “He’ll want to doctor you up when he sees that.”
“Oh. Don’t worry about him. Yes, he can be a real pest as well, more than you realize. But forewarned is forearmed, and I know everything he is capable of doing, because I’ve already lived through it all. This is the second time around, brother, at least for me. I’ll admit that I made a few mistakes the first time, but that is understandable given the pressure we were under. But not this time. No. Everything will be well planned, and God help anyone who tries to stand in my way… In our way.”
The Captain noted that little stumble, but said nothing more.
Chapter 23
Fedorov found himself escorted to an old fishing trawler by three armed guards, and soon Tyrenkov appeared, looming like a ghostly spirit in the mist. Something about the silence that surrounded the man was most disconcerting. His eyes always seemed to be studying you, and behind them was a keen mind, thinking, analyzing, considering.
“Where is Sergeant Troyak and the Marines?” asked Fedorov.
“Finishing dinner. I trust you were well served.”
“I had little appetite,” said Fedorov.
“You are understandably upset to see your Admiral relieved of command. But this is war. It has happened many times before.”
Fedorov could feel the other man’s eyes on him, noting his reactions, and looking for any signs that might be cause for alarm. It was clear this man was still suspicious, so he knew he had to be very careful here.
“The Admiral was a fair man,” he said glumly. “He would listen to me, unlike Karpov. What happened to the Captain? How was he injured?”
“A little fall on the way over. Just a scratch. A medic applied medicine, and there was no bleeding to speak of.”
“He seemed so… different. He was saying things that made no sense.” Fedorov kept going over the encounter with Karpov in his mind, rooting out anything that would have been confusing to his older, unknowing self. He had to appear to still be that man, and had no doubt that Tyrenkov was looking for any clue now that he might not be the man he seemed.
“I am told you are quite the historian,” said Tyrenkov.
“Yes, I know this history well.”
“Then surely you can see the wisdom in this order. The Soviet Union is in real jeopardy now. The history you may know has changed considerably. The death of Stalin changed a good deal more than you realize. Your Captain seems a most determined man. You would do well to help him in any way you can.”
“Who are these other men?” asked Fedorov.
“They will be joining the Captain aboard, and a few more, just in case your crew is not easily convinced. We cannot take any chances that this ship goes astray. Surely you can understand that. I’m told you were the first to realized what had happened to your ship. Now you must help convince the remainder of your officers and crew. Those who cooperate can serve us well. Those who do not…”
Fedorov knew a warning when he heard one, and said nothing more. A moment later a group of security men, all in dark black uniforms appeared, one particularly large and threatening—Grilikov.
*
“Very well, Admiral,” said Karpov. “This matter is now concluded. There is only one little detail we need to tie off before I leave you.”
“This is outrageous, Karpov. How can you be complicit in this? Don’t you realize how dangerous it is should that ship fall into the wrong hands here in this time?”
“Indeed I do, but it has now fallen into the right hands, Admiral. You would not know how to do what is necessary here. I know you only too well. So now we have only one little detail to conclude this business. I must request you surrender your key.”
The Admiral’s heart skipped a beat when he heard that, his fist tightening on the key Fedorov had given him in his pocket. How did Karpov know? Did he have the room bugged? Were men watching and listening when Fedorov gave the object to him?
“Yes Admiral, your command key. Oh, I suppose I could easily order Martinov to reset the command key setting from its standard default requiring two key insertions, but I will need your key in any case. Surely you understand why.”
Volsky did not know whether to be relieved or even more anxious now. Clearly Karpov was referring to the command key for special warhead activation on the ship, and not the key Fedorov had given him. He reluctantly reached for the chain around his neck, and took it off, realizing there was no recourse now. Better that there be two keys aboard than only one. This way there was a chance that the fail safe requiring two key insertions might remain in place.
“Be very careful now, Karpov. I hope you have no thoughts about ever using the weapons this key enables.”
“Of course not,” said Karpov. “This is a mere formality, Admiral. The key belongs aboard the ship, and I will assign it to my Starpom. I was considering Rodenko. Do you agree?”
Karpov had no intention of passing the key to anyone, but he was merely mincing words here, to smooth this transition.
“Rodenko is a good officer,” said Volsky. “Or Zolkin.” The Admiral made the suggestion, hoping that, if Zolkin got the key, he might prevent a disaster, though he knew that Karpov would probably not go along with this suggestion.
“Zolkin? He’s not in the normal chain of command.”
“That is true, but he is a man of conscience, a man of sound reason. You would do well to listen to him. As for me, I have
every intention of contacting this Sergei Kirov as you suggested earlier. Why he would request the removal of a sitting Admiral is beyond me. You say this was done by our own people in the future, yet I am very suspicious, Karpov. I hope the ship will remain here in Kola Bay for some time. Yes?”
“I’m afraid not. We have urgent business elsewhere. As for your appeal to Sergei Kirov, you may try, but I’m afraid this has all been decided. Farewell, Admiral. Time to make a little edit or two in this sad history. Fedorov won’t like it, but someone has to clean up this mess, and it might as well be me.”
“Don’t bully him, Karpov,” said Volsky, making one final appeal. “You know he was right all along. Listen to him. He’s a good officer too.”
“Yes… He was…” Karpov said nothing more, and strode off, his footsteps hard on the bare wood floor, a mocking echo in the room as he went.
When he reached the Admiral’s launch, he found it guarded only by his own men, as he had ordered. Troyak and the other two Marines would be brought over on a trawler, along with another section of his own security detail. As Tyrenkov had explained to Fedorov, he would assure that he could now hold the ship he was taking, knowing the difficulties he had experienced in the past. The addition of his security men would require some adjustments, but they could accommodate that many men, and he would have Orlov handle the settling in.
Orlov! He finally realized he would be over there as well! The bastard is probably sweetening up his coffee and hovering over Samsonov, as he always does on the bridge. Yes, big, tough Orlov. He likes to throw his muscle around, and even had the temerity to strike me, a Captain! Yet he will be as clueless as Volsky and Fedorov were. He won’t remember anything. So I suppose I will give him a pardon for that fist in my belly. But I must keep an eye on Orlov too. Wait until he sees Grilikov! Yes, the two of them will make a wonderful little duet. I can have Grilikov work with Orlov to settle the ship’s affairs, and the crew will give me no trouble this time, I’m sure of it.
The journey over was a heady one for Karpov. As they drew near, the massive hulk of the ship loomed in the mist, and Karpov breathed deeply, as if taking in the power that had now been delivered to his grasp. At last, he thought. I am coming home. I will now control the most powerful vessel on this earth, with the only working nuclear warheads for at least the next several years. I must use that power very judiciously.
The two man receiving crew was waiting, and they lowered the winch to have the launch lifted aboard. Karpov directed his men on how it should be secured, and when it was finally raised up, he smiled, realizing he was now aboard Kirov, at long last, home again. His plan had worked flawlessly. There had been no bloodshed, and Volsky swallowed his little ruse like a bad Sardine.
Beyond this obvious windfall, he had the added benefit of having met his very own self! He could see that the Captain was also reluctant to leave the ship. Yes, he would seem like a fish out of water for a good long while, but he will adjust, just as I have. I will send Tyrenkov along with him to board Tunguska and brief him more fully. Now this will be very interesting. I must convince the crew here that I am him, and he must convince Bogrov and the men aboard Tunguska that he is me!
Hopefully there will be no problems, but I’ve ordered Tyrenkov to take command of the air squadron should the Captain do anything rash. It’s almost as if I have a little brother now, just as I called him that when we met. He is very capable—lord knows, he is me! But yet at this moment he is still green and untried. I must bring him along slowly, which is why I’ve said nothing of the things Tunguska can really do, and nothing of what I’ve discovered at Ilanskiy.
Yet think of it, think of it! I now control the only three ways anyone can move in time! I have Kirov, Tunguska, and Ilanskiy, the master of all fate and time here on this earth. I have power beyond the imagining of men like Sergei Kirov and Adolf Hitler. Yes, the Führer may have his panzer divisions, but we will soon smash them, along with his whole reeking Third Reich. And when this is all over, what will I build here? What will I make of the new Russia I liberate from Hitler’s steely grasp? And what will I do about Volkov?
In the short run, it comes down to Orenburg and the Japanese, two enemies on either side of the territory I now control. Kolchak will be dead within the week, or so Tyrenkov has assured me. This means I must meet with all the Siberian Generals in the Far East Command and select a new leader there—answerable to me, of course.
“Officers on board,” called the Bosun as he stepped out of the launch, taking a short ladder down.
“Captain on deck!” The man saluted, waiting with an expectant upward glance as though he expected the Admiral to follow. Karpov saw him hesitate, and spoke.
“Admiral Volsky has gone on an important mission to Moscow. Command of the ship now falls to me.”
“Yes sir,” said the Bosun.
“We are also taking aboard a company of men from the garrison here. Direct them to the aft deck when they arrive. There will be several trawlers.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Has Mister Fedorov returned?”
“No sir, we thought he would arrive with you.”
“I will wait here then. He should be on the next boat.”
The man nodded, but it was clear he seemed uneasy. Karpov thought it might be the gauze on his face, which he had re-applied to cover his scar. “Don’t worry about this,” he said, gesturing to the bandage. “I fell in the yard and scratched my cheek.”
“It’s not that, sir. It’s the harbor. We can’t see much in this fog, but what we can see looks… very different. Admiral Volsky ordered the crew below decks, and it’s plain to see why. Where is the city, sir? Has something happened here? Is it war like the men say?”
“I will explain everything to the crew in due course,” said Karpov, grateful for the fog. Even Mother Nature had been a willing member of his conspiracy.
He saw the first trawler coming, and soon saw Tyrenkov standing tall on the forward deck. The Bosun and his mate lowered a ladder down, and the men started to climb, first Tyrenkov, followed by Fedorov and then a line of dark clad soldiers. Twenty came in on this first boat, and Karpov took Tyrenkov aside, giving him some final orders.
“We’ve done it, Tyrenkov! I wish there were time for me to give you a little tour, but this is the ship that brought me here, and if there was ever a moment of doubt in your mind when I told you my sad tale, feeling the power beneath your feet now should put that to rest.”
“Sir,” said Tyrenkov. “I never doubted you.”
“Of course not,” said Karpov. “As to my little brother… Get him safely aboard Tunguska, and brief him well along the way. I want no slip-ups, so you will have to be at his side at all times in the beginning. Report to me daily on the channel I have given you. Take the airships up to the Kara Sea and wait for us there. We will not be long.”
“This may be somewhat delicate at the outset,” said Tyrenkov. “What if our people were to see the two of you together?”
“That will not happen for some time, and before it does, I’ll brief the men well, starting with this security contingent. I called the Captain my brother, and that angle might play for a while. After all, nobody knew much about me at all, and they certainly didn’t know I had a twin brother. He smiled. “As for now, only you know the real truth, Tyrenkov. I’m relying on you to be my right hand until my little brother is up to speed. Treat him with the same respect you would give to me, but let me know if there is any difficulty. I’m taking half the company. I’ll leave you 60 men for Tunguska. Take good care of that airship!”
“Rely on me, sir.”
“Excellent. A wonderful night, yes? Now then, let me go collar Mister Fedorov and get to the bridge. I’ve been away a very long time, since 1908, in fact.” He smiled again, turning to go look for his charge.
“Come along, Fedorov. To the bridge! And don’t you open your mouth and say a single word of what happened ashore, or I’ll relieve you and throw you in the brig. Under
stand? As for Volsky, I know you were fond of him, but don’t fret. He’ll get along fine with Admiral Golovko, and I’ll check in to see to his wellbeing from time to time.
They made their way up, and the familiar sight of the ship and crew, the passages and ladders, were all a balm to Karpov. The quiet hum of the ship’s equipment was a soothing sound to him. He was finally back in his own element again, done with makeshift field phones he would have to crank up to call Bogrov on Tunguska, and done with shouting through voice tubes. He was back in the digital world again, the world of electronic marvels, solid state micro circuitry, the radars, sonars, and in control of real weapons again. No more cumbersome unguided RS-82 rockets as his only techno wonder for Volkov. Now he had real power, absolute power, and by god or the devil, he was going to put it to good use.
Chapter 24
When they reached the bridge, Rodenko announced him, giving him a searching look, greatly surprised, particularly when he saw the massive hulk of Grilikov following the Captain and Fedorov through the hatch. Who were these men in their strange dark uniforms. Even the Captain was oddly dressed. “Are you alright sir?”
“Of course, Rodenko. I just slipped and cut my cheek, that’s all. My uniform was soiled, and I needed a change of clothes. Our hosts were quite accommodating. Now then, the Admiral was called to Moscow on urgent business. I have been appointed commander of the ship, and will make a formal announcement to the crew shortly.”
Rodenko hesitated briefly, thinking, and then spoke. “Very well, sir. Will the Admiral be rejoining us here soon?”
“I’m afraid not. There is no knowing how long he will be occupied in Moscow. We’re taking the ship to Vladivostok as originally planned after the live fire exercises. Make ready to get the ship underway.”
“Aye sir. Then we are returning to the Norwegian Sea to complete the exercises? What about Slava and Orel?”
Nemesis Page 20
