Nemesis (12 page)

“What
was that? “ Volsky was still listening, extending his young Navigator every
benefit of the doubt, as troubled as he was to hear and see Fedorov in this
state of mind.

“Well
sir, we lost men in the course of all that time, and one of them was Chief
Orlov. When I saw him on the bridge, I was quite surprised. But the appearance
of the Captain was the real shock. He wasn’t supposed to be aboard at that
time.”

“And
that is when you fell ill,” said Zolkin. “Understandable, Mister Fedorov.”

“I’m
still not sure how this happened, Doctor, but the fact remains that I can
remember everything that occurred. And now it has all started again—only that
recall order has changed things this time. Thankfully, we’ve avoided that first
engagement with the British, and I think we can thank Admiral Tovey for that.
He was our staunch ally in that last year while we were here.”

“Admiral
Tovey,” said Zolkin with a nod. “This is the commander of the British Home
fleet in 1941.”

“Correct.
We were steaming with him in May of 1941. In fact, there was a battle underway,
when the ship displaced again, and…”

Fedorov
stopped himself, looking from Zolkin to the Admiral, and realizing that he was
sounding like a deluded fool.

“I knew
this would be difficult,” he said. “I know it sounds completely insane. You
will not believe me—until things start again here. Those surface contacts to
our south are most likely the 6th Destroyer Flotilla out of Tromso. If they do
intercept us, the truth of what I am saying to you now will become evident. I
could have waited for that, kept my silence, but I could see that my effort to
control the situation by other means was doing nothing but arousing suspicion
on the Captain’s part. But everything I have told you is true, and it will be
proven true if we do go to Severomorsk, because the world we are sailing in now
has been changed by the things we did. This you will soon see for yourself, and
then this madman you now believe is standing before you, and needing a long
rest, will be vindicated.”

Silence.
Volsky’s expression was almost one of a father listening to his own sun explain
some transgression, wanting to listen and forgive, but hearing too much to
overlook.

“Mister
Fedorov,” he said at last. “That’s quite a tale you have told here, and yes, it
sounds completely unbelievable, just like this sun and moon question. Leaving
aside the issue of truth or fallacy for the moment, may I suggest two things to
you here? First off, this business about the use of nuclear warheads… That can
only be ordered by me, Mister Fedorov, not the Captain, and the default setting
on our fail safe protocol requires two command keys. The second thing I would
like you to think about is that recall order we have received from Moscow,
correctly formatted as it should be if it were sent in our own time, 2021, and
utilizing the correct final authentication code as well. Assuming everything you
have said is true, and we are now sailing about in WWII, are you telling me the
men of this day and time would be able to send us such a message?”

“No
sir, but one man alive in this world now would—Captain Karpov. I have not yet
told you everything…”

“Karpov?”
Volsky set his tea cup down and folded his arms. “You are suggesting
that the Captain somehow arranged for that message to be sent to us? That he
may have sent it himself?”

“Yes
sir… but no… not the man here with us now.”

If they
thought I was mad before, thought Fedorov, then they will be certain of it if I
reveal what I truly think has happened here. I have already said enough, and in
truth, I’m not really certain about that recall order. Stay in the here and
now. Reveal things that bear on this moment, and the days ahead. If I try to
tell them everything, it will be like pouring more tea into Volsky’s cup than
it can hold, and more than he could ever hope to drink. Easy now. Take things
slowly.

“Concerning
the Captain,” he began. “I was shocked to see him here because in the course of
our experience in the past, he was separated from the ship. In fact, we
believed he was lost in action, until I discovered otherwise.”

“Tell
me,” said Volsky, still trying to give his Navigator a fair hearing, though
Fedorov could see that Doctor Zolkin was becoming a little restless. Then the
sound of a harsh warning claxon sounded, and Fedorov started, though he
expected what he now heard.

“Missile
warning,” he said. “It’s begun…”

The
sound of the Klinok medium range air defense system was unmistakable. Fedorov
had heard them launch, seen them streak away to find and destroy their enemies,
counting each one with the knowledge that every kill they recorded was a blight
upon the integrity of the history, and a potential hammer blow to the future
they had all come from. They fought by reflex at first, a reflex for survival,
to protect the ship and crew from harm. Yet now, with all he had seen and done,
Fedorov had the sinking feeling that they had elevated themselves above the
fate of countless millions, the unborn souls waiting to take their place in the
world, and their selfishness could be blamed for all the harm they had caused.

Somewhere
out there, he pictured that unsuspecting German flight crew in his mind. They
would see it coming, wondering what it was. Would they be clueless as the
British were before, or did they still know of the terrible foe that lurked in
these northern seas? Were their memories erased with this second coming, or did
they know what they would be seeing?

Then a
thought came to him that spoke of the answer—Tovey! I sent out a code word he
had devised for this ship—
Geronimo
—and he responded. I used a message
format that we all agreed upon at the Alexandria conference. Tovey had to know.
He still remembered. If that is so, then perhaps this memory loss was like that
heavy fog that had enveloped the ship. Perhaps the more he revealed, the
greater the likelihood that he might jog something loose here in the Admiral’s
mind.

“The
Captain is a most efficient man,” said Fedorov. “That missile will end the
immediate threat, but in exchange the Germans lose an aircraft this morning,
and more men die. These are the first to die at his hands this go around, but
they will not be the last. When Karpov realizes what he has just fired at, and
surely killed, he will become a very dangerous man. He will see his position
here, at this pivotal time in history, as a godsend. He will argue that we must
use the ship, and the power we have, to alter the course of events in a way
that favors our homeland, and he will determine that he, personally, must be
the man to control that destiny. He will stop at nothing, sir. In fact, he
attempted to seize control of this ship while you were disabled with this
vertigo incident.”

“What?
Karpov? You are speaking of mutiny?”

“He
did, sir, but it failed when I came here to sick bay and discovered what he had
done. He locked the hatch from the outside, sealing the two of you here, and he
cut the intercom cable. During that interval, and with the ship in battle, he
was able to enable one of our special warheads, the number ten missile on the
MOS-III system. That was the warhead that destroyed the American task force,
and with it everything began to change. You were able to regain control of the
ship, Admiral, thanks to Sergeant Troyak and the Marines, who sided with you.
And this was not the first time Karpov took direct action against other
officers on this ship.”

Now Fedorov
looked at Doctor Zolkin. “At one point, he attempted to…” He stopped himself, thinking
it might not be good to tell Zolkin that Karpov might shoot him! Then he
realized that, from the look on Zolkin’s face, the Doctor was coming to a
conviction that he must be seriously disturbed. He was taking Fedorov’s hesitation
as confusion and further disorientation.

“Easy
now, Mister Fedorov,” said Zolkin. “Yes, things have been very trying these
last few days. We’ve all felt it, the loss of both
Orel
and
Slava
was a hard blow. Here now… Suppose I get you something to help it all sit a
little easier in your gut—just a mild sedative.”

“I
don’t need medication, Doctor.”

Now
Volsky pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. “Well this has been quite
a lot for breakfast,” he said. “Mister Fedorov, would you excuse us now? You
are not scheduled to take your post until the noon shift, yes? In that case, I
exempt you from duty at your battle station. If you have not yet eaten, please
do so. But otherwise, take Doctor Zolkin’s advice and go rest in your cabin. I
will discuss what you have told us with the Doctor here, and we will consider
the situation. Hopefully, I can get myself up to the bridge and see what is
going on there for myself.”

“But
sir… There is more. The situation is very grave. I checked my research, and
there could be a submarine threat soon, not only from German U-boats, but also
from our own subs patrolling off the North Cape—Soviet vessels.”

“Well
enough, Fedorov,” said Zolkin. “We stand warned.”

“Karpov
has a kind of phobia where submarines are concerned, sir. He may do something
that could complicate matters here.”

“I
understand,” said Volsky. “For now, let me consider what you have said.
Dismissed, Mister Fedorov. Rest in your quarters. This is an order.”

*

When
Fedorov had left them, reluctantly, Zolkin looked at his
old friend and took a long breath. “A troubled young man,” he said slowly. The
sun and moon business was enough of a mystery for us to solve, but clearly
Fedorov is suffering more than I realized. I’m sorry, Leonid. I should have
taken the matter of his injury more seriously. I’ll call on him later in his
quarters with some medication that may help the situation.”

“You
believe he is deluded?”

“It’s
obvious what is going on with him now,” said Zolkin. “Yes, the quiet young man
who was always lost in his history books has now become something more.”

“Yet he
sounds so rational, so convinced of what he is saying.” The Admiral scratched
his head.

“That
is what is troublesome for me,” said Zolkin. “When one becomes too convinced of
his delusion, it can lead to psychosis. Perhaps it was the shock of losing
Orel
and
Slava
. It affected us all, as I tried to explain. In this case,
however, Fedorov’s attempt to put things in order has brought him into conflict
with Karpov, not to mention Orlov. Those were some very strong accusations the
Captain leveled here—enough to rattle any young officer. Karpov is a formidable
figure, particularly when he has put the Chief onto someone, as he clearly has
here with Fedorov.”

“Then
you believe our young Navigator has dreamed up this story as a way of trying to
defend himself from the Captain?”

“It
certainly seems that way, Leonid. He’s projecting his fascination for the history
on this situation. When we lost satellite links, and his Loran-C signal went
down, it was like someone cutting the links to reality for him. So he tries to
navigate by the stars, and suddenly says the sun and moon are wrong. These are
the things he relies upon for a sense of certainty, and suddenly they were
gone. Yes, it has been quite a mystery as to how and why this has happened, and
what has also happened to
Slava
, and men will react differently in such
stressful situations. Throw in that head injury, and Fedorov retreats in his
mind to the one thing that is a certainty, the integrity of his history books,
where events are fixed, as though riveted in stone. Suddenly he sees Karpov as
a threat to that history, which is really just a mask for his fear over what
may be really happening here—another war, one possibly much worse than the one
he spends all his time reading about. His reaction naturally runs afoul of the
Captain, and so he creates this story of how Karpov has conspired with the
Chief to seize control of the ship.”

“It was
quite a tale,” said Volsky.

“It
certainly was, but the good news is that your prescription for Fedorov is just
what he needs now—food, rest, time away from the stress of the bridge, and from
Karpov. I’ll keep a very close eye on him, and make sure Orlov minds his own
business and leaves the young man alone. One of the cooks was in here earlier
and reported the Chief was with Fedorov in the officer’s mess. It seems there
was an incident there, nothing serious, but Orlov could have only heightened Fedorov’s
sense of vulnerability.”

“I
see…” Volsky was listening intently to what the Doctor was saying, thinking and
considering.

“Notice
how he kept most of this to himself until Karpov came out with his accusation
here?” Zolkin continued. “Now we get this story placing the Captain in the
center of a conspiracy to seize control of events. As we have just heard,
Karpov is a man of action, and in many ways he may represent that threat of war
that Fedorov seems to be reacting to here. Look what Fedorov tells us—that it
was Karpov who seized control of the ship and then set loose the nukes! I think
Fedorov fears that if Karpov has his way in the interpretation of these events,
we get war, and that is what is really frightening him. And who foils this
attempted mutiny? Fedorov himself, armed with the foreknowledge of everything
Karpov will do—armed with certainty in the face of this intense uncertainty we
have been facing. Understand? The mind is a fickle thing under stress, Leonid,
and particularly when it gets knocked about with a good bump on the head. Hence
we get this fantastic tale Fedorov spun out. You see? He claims to know what
happened as a way of bringing a kind of certainty to the situation. This
déjà
vu
he claims to be experiencing is just a kind of defense mechanism.”

“I
see…” Volsky was obviously troubled. “Well my friend, we still have a great
many unanswered questions here, and the Captain just took a shot at one of
them! I won’t get to the bottom of all this sitting here with this breakfast
tray on my lap. I think I feel well enough to get myself to the bridge.”

“Are
you certain, Leonid? We don’t need you taking another fall on a ladder or
stairway now.”

“Don’t
worry, my sea legs are back. I will be fine. But I need to get up there and see
what is going on. Obviously we did not get any good news from the KA-226. Karpov
has not reported, so he may be otherwise occupied. If he fired, then the sun
and moon aside, this ship may now
be
at war. My place is on the bridge.”

Volsky
set the breakfast tray aside, and the Doctor fetched his officer’s coat and cap
as he made ready to leave.

“I must
say, Leonid, I’ve been more than tempted to dig into the back of my medicine
cabinet and find that bottle of Vodka.”

“Let me
know if you do,” Volsky smiled. “Because at 18:30 this evening, I have a
suspicion that we will indeed find our missing moon. That and the recall order
sit as two opposing arguments here—like fire and ice. A poet once wondered
which way the world would end, with fire or ice, and now I find myself
wondering the same thing. I hope, when we do get home, the damn base is still
there, and then someone can please explain to me why the moon is off its well
appointed rounds.”

Zolkin
just looked at him, shaking his head.

“And
one more thing, Dmitri,” said Volsky. “Did you know that when this business
started, Fedorov suggested we send out a message on a very specific channel. I
assumed he knew the British command link frequencies, and it seemed logical to
try and diffuse the situation if we could, so I had Nikolin send out that
signal. Lo and behold, we get a call from a man claiming to be an Admiral
Tovey, right out of Fedorov’s history books, and the man he claims we were
steaming with in battle just a few months ago. Yes, Fedorov may have quite an
imagination, and he certainly loves his history, but who does this British Admiral
ask to speak with when he contacts us? Well, I’m told he was kind enough to ask
for me, the commanding officer aboard this ship. But that failing, Karpov tells
me he wanted to speak with Mister Fedorov…” He waited, adjusting the buttons on
his coat.

“Now
then… Why in the world would an Admiral in the Royal Navy want to speak with
our Lieutenant and Senior Navigator, this I wonder? Karpov wondered about it
too, and it certainly led him to one conclusion about Fedorov—that he was a spy,
or a double agent working for the British. So tell me, Dmitri, which tall tale
am I to believe here? I may just find my answer on the bridge. If Karpov is
correct, yes, do keep an eye on Mister Fedorov for me. But if Fedorov is
correct… Then find that bottle of Vodka, will you? I think I’m going to need
it.”