Nemesis (7 page)

“He’s
still down in sick bay with Zolkin. No doubt the two of them have been rattling
the vodka glasses. Frankly, I’m glad he’s out of the way for the moment. You
know damn well that, when we get home, there will be one hell of an investigation.
Suchkov will go ballistic! I’m amazed we haven’t heard from him by now. This
radio silence from command is very irregular.”

“Maybe
he sent that coded message,” Orlov suggested.

“Most
likely.” Karpov took another sip, finishing his glass of red wine. “The Admiral
will have a lot of explaining to do at Severomorsk, and we have very few
answers. Everything we do only seems to deepen the mystery, and this Fedorov
business is most disturbing. Could he be an undercover
Zampolit
?”

“
Zampolit
?
We haven’t had those little rats aboard since it all fell apart in 1991.
Commissars… I’d like to choke the breath out of every last one of them.” He
wasn’t sure why he said that, but it was something he felt very strongly at
that moment. A
Zampolit
was a special officer that would sail with every
ship during the Soviet era, the modern day equivalent of the political
Commissar, but they had gone the way of the old Soviet Union, fading away after
1991.

“Well
he knows too damn much, Orlov. He told me this man’s name—Ernst Ullring! And
he’s the one who suggested the Admiral send out that radio signal. What was it
he said? Geronimo, that was it. What in god’s name was that all about? It was
some kind of code word. Yes… It’s Fedorov, I tell you. He’s a mole! He’s got
something in his pocket in regards to all this. And to catch a little mouse,
you need a good cat. That’s where you come in Orlov. Get hold of Fedorov’s tail
and see what you can find out. And tell him to mind his mouth while you’re at
it. Keep a close eye on him, Chief. Something smells here, and I want to find
out what he’s really up to.”

Part
III

Conspiracy

“Better for real things to be
uncontrollable, better for one's life to be undecipherable and intellectually
impenetrable than to attempt to make casual sense of what is unknown with a
fantasy that is mad. Better, I thought, that the events of these past three
days should remain incomprehensible to me forever…”

―
Philip Roth:
Operation Shylock

Karpov
was back aboard
Tunguska
, excited about the
prospects before him now. He had come to Moscow to seek a deal that would
secure his place in Russian history, secure the nation itself in this time of
grave crisis, and he got everything he desired. He looked out his stateroom
viewport, taking in the sprawl of Moscow below, the gleam of the river running
through the city, the tall palaces, cathedrals, and the golden dome of the
Kremlin. There was the beating heart of the Soviet Union, he thought, the
center of power here for decades to come. Yet, as he looked down on the city,
he had the sense that he was bigger than it all, a demigod drifting here in the
skies in his airship, above it all, superior.

Then
thoughts of the matter at hand returned to him, and he turned to Tyrenkov, his
voice level and serious.

“The
message was sent,” he said. “And I am willing to bet that the ship will now be
heading for Murmansk—Severomorsk, to be precise, though the harbor there was
not developed at this time.”

“My
people there tell me that has changed,” said Tyrenkov. “They’ve built a new
quay, and storage facilities for provisions. A small workers settlement has
been cleared out and converted to crews quarters, and the whole area has been
cordoned off with security. I have a man inside, reporting weekly.”

“Good,
but we will soon have a close look at this new harbor ourselves. I’ve given
Bogrov instructions to plot our course to Murmansk.”

“I
see…” Tyrenkov considered that. “Then you mean to take the ship?”

“Take
it back,” said Karpov quickly. “It was rightfully mine. Volsky was just a
mother hen assigned to this mission, yet all he wanted to do was sit on the
eggs. Well, I had to break a few to make the omelet I had in mind, but there
were simply too many cooks in the kitchen. Now… We must consider how to go
about this. We have a full security company aboard, do we not?”

“Yes
sir, 120 good men of the Siberian Guard.”

“That
should be sufficient.”

Tyrenkov
raised an eyebrow at that. “You intend to board by force? That could get very…
uncomfortable.”

“Perhaps,
but we must plan this very carefully. First off, we need to ascertain who is in
command there.”

“I
don’t understand, sir. You believe something may have happened to Admiral
Volsky?”

“Listen
carefully, Tyrenkov. What I tell you now may sound very… confusing, but
consider it well. This may not be the same ship that was here earlier.”

“Not
the same ship? What do you mean, Admiral?”

“We’ve
discussed this before—the first arrival of the ship on July 28th. I was facing
a most unusual circumstance at that time, and a very dangerous one. You see, I
was aboard that ship, as its rightful Captain when it first came here. Yet
there I was in Siberia as well. That’s quite a thorny problem, yes? I was
wondering what might happen to me, and quite frankly, not without a good
measure of dread. Time was going to have to make a choice, or so I came to
believe. Which man would remain here on July 28th—the man I was when the ship
first arrived, or the man before you now. Well, that time has passed, and the
choice has apparently been made. I cannot tell you what happened a few days
earlier, but I wasn’t sleeping comfortably in my stateroom. It was a very
harrowing experience, but I survived.”

“I am
glad for that, sir,” said Tyrenkov. “Then you believe the other man is dead?
The other Karpov?”

“Of
course. How could there be two of us alive here at the same time. I have no way
of knowing yet, but something must have happened to him. He may have simply
vanished. After our first little jaunt through time, we returned to our own era
and sailed to Vladivostok. It was there that we discovered men were
missing—crew members gone. Some were men we had lost in combat, yet, when that
bastard Volkov stuck his nose in it, he determined that there was no record any
of those men were ever born—no service records, birth certificates, personal
history—nothing. It was as if they simply vanished. This is what I believe has
happened to my earlier self. I’m a good ripe apple now, why would Time want a green
one in her barrel? She chose me, Tyrenkov, and in doing so she chose very
wisely. That other man was headstrong, untempered steel. He was all potential,
yet I was tried by the fire of battle many times, and always prevailed. I was
in a position to really matter here, while he stood in Volsky’s shadow. So when
you think about it, it is no surprise that I survived. Yes, I mourn the loss of
my younger self, but I remain, and that is all that matters.”

“So
that leaves Volsky and Fedorov in command there.”

“Volsky,”
said Karpov. “Fedorov was just a Navigator when we arrived. Oh, he is very
clever. His knowledge of the history we found ourselves in proved very useful,
along with a little library of books he kept, but he knew nothing of real war.
When the fighting started, Volsky had no choice but to come to me.”

Karpov
was stretching the facts a bit, omitting the story of his failed bid to control
the ship, and how he had pleaded with Volsky to let him support Fedorov as his
Starpom
.
“Who knows, there may be another man there that we know nothing of—another
Captain standing in my old shoes. We will have to wait and see, but for the
moment, Volsky and Fedorov will be more than enough to worry about. Volsky can
be a stubborn old ox, but the men love him, and will follow his lead. As for
Fedorov, green as he was back then, he can be very resourceful. We should not
underestimate him when we take the ship.”

“As to
that, sir, how do you propose we proceed? Surely you don’t want to use the
Siberian Guards to storm the quay and make a forced boarding.”

“I will
if I must, but no, we must consider that now. There is another man aboard
Kirov
,
not an officer, but one who weighed heavily in the balance there—a Sergeant
Troyak, the man commanding
Kirov’s
security contingent.”

“A
large force?” Tyrenkov questioned, sizing up the threat.

“Only
twenty Marines, but these are no ordinary fighting men. In our day we called
them the Black Death. The force dates back to 1705, and they have a long
history of valor in battle, in this war as well. Their motto has been well
earned: Where We Are, There is Victory! Well… This man Troyak, he’s a
formidable presence, and the men under him are very, very good. They have
weapons that will magnify their fighting power many times over. Frankly, I
think if we attempted to take the ship by force, we would fail. They are that
good.”

“Then
what will we do?” asked Tyrenkov, wanting to know Karpov’s intentions clearly,
for he would be the man required to execute the plan, whatever it might be.

“We
will not fight the bear,” said Karpov. “But we will give him honey, yes? I
think we must arrange a nice little reception at Severomorsk, which is why I
want to get up there as soon as possible. I’ll want a band on the quay, full
diplomatic protocols, a grand welcome and a banquet of the best food and wine
we can find—and some good vodka.”

“You
intend to simply invite the commanding officers ashore?”

“How
else to get them off that ship, and in a place where we might have more
control? Can you arrange everything?”

“Of
course, sir. But yes, we should get there as soon as possible.”

“Good,
because I have some mail to deliver to Admiral Volsky.” Karpov reached into his
jacket pocket and produced a small envelope. “Here is a letter from Sergei
Kirov himself. It formally asks him to relinquish control of the ship to me.”

“You
believe Volsky will do that?”

“We
shall see… There are a number of considerations here, which we must now
discuss. First off, we do not yet know what their situational awareness is.
When we first arrived here, there was a period of considerable disorientation,
as you might expect. We began to perceive anomalies, news broadcasts, contact
with obsolete ships. Then we mounted a recon operation to Jan Mayen, and the
situation got even more mysterious. It took some time, and much haggling, but
we eventually began to realize what had really happened to us. Believe me, that
was no small hurtle to leap over. The thought the ship had actually moved in
time was quite daunting—impossible, yet there we were. We do not yet know
whether they have sorted this all out yet, but if I know Fedorov, he will be
trying to convince the Admiral that the ship has moved in time, and the
evidence will all begin to mount in favor of that argument. Whether they know
this already is the key question. The message protocol, and the code words I
used in sending it, will serve to reinforce the perception that all is normal,
in spite of any anomalies they have uncovered.”

“What
do you mean, sir?”

“I was
Captain of that ship, Tyrenkov. Whenever we set sail on any mission of
importance, there is a secure envelop carried aboard the ship, with a code word
generated only moments before it is delivered, so it is completely secret, with
no possibility that this word could be known by anyone else. In fact, the
senior officers only learn this word when they receive a coded message from
naval headquarters. Such a message must follow an exact protocol, and contain
words used for that day in our naval code. I have access to all of that
information, and so I was able to format a message Sergei Kirov sent to that
ship this afternoon.”

“And
that special code sir?”

“I took
the liberty of ascertaining what it was when I was aboard Kirov. Volsky was
disabled, and I had to take command. So I naturally used my command key to open
the ship’s safe and learn the authentication code. This word must be the final
word used in any message.”

“I
understand, sir.”

“Good…
Then you will also understand that when Volsky gets that message, it will seem
as though it has been sent from our own naval headquarters in 2021. The fact
that it concludes with the correct authentication code will be very strong
evidence supporting that conclusion. So they will have a bit of a mystery on
their hands, depending on how much evidence they have uncovered about this
time—1941. Right now, if they have followed the orders I sent in that message,
they should be steaming for Severomorsk, under radio silence. When they get
there, things could get a little more complicated.”

“How
so?”

“First
off, the Germans have the North Cape of Norway, do they not?”

“Yes
sir, they have troops at Petsamo and Kirkenes, and airfields there. There is
also a garrison at Tromso, and they have a destroyer flotilla there.”

“Petsamo…
That will be Pechenga in our day, about a hundred kilometers east of
Severomorsk. The Germans… This could get very interesting. The first time we
arrived, it was the British Royal Navy that got too curious about us. They
naturally assumed we were some unknown German raider. This time the shoe will
be on the other foot. When the ship approaches Tromso, there is a chance they
might encounter those German destroyers, or aircraft from these bases up there.
That will start things off, if I am not mistaken. Have the Germans been aggressive
up there?”

“They’ve
been mounting regular air-sea patrols, sparring with trawlers and Soviet subs.”

“Interesting…
Do you know, the British were planning an attack on those airfields this very
month. I wonder if that will happen? In any case, when the ship gets up north,
things could get difficult. If they determine what has really happened to them,
then the authenticity of that recall order could be called into question. If
necessary, we may have to take other measures.”

“Other
measures sir?”

“Well,
if they get spooked, and decide to play it cautious, they may not sail blithely
into the inlet at Kola Bay. Our little reception could be all for naught. In
that instance, if the mountain won’t go to Mohammed…”

“You
mean to take
Tunguska
out there and attempt a rendezvous?”

“I see
no other option. If Volsky won’t come home, we’ll have to go to him and try and
persuade him to let me board. This option will be very dangerous. While we may
be able to beat off attacks from the aircraft of this day,
Kirov
is another
matter entirely. One missile from that ship could rip
Tunguska
apart, so
we will be very vulnerable.”

“Then
what is your plan, Admiral?”

“If it
comes to this, I’ll have to use my wits. Remember, I have knowledge of all
modern day naval operations procedures and protocols from our time. I can be a
voice of reason, and a tether to certainty in a sea of chaos. This is what I am
counting on. They will be confused, struggling to come to grips with what has
happened to them. I must put the icing on the cake they will have in the oven
there, but to do so, I’ll need to get aboard that ship. To that end, I borrowed
a Soviet Naval Ensign, and we’ll mount that to show the colors of the Soviet
fleet. If nothing else, it may make them hesitate to take any rash action
against us. Then, when I get on the radio with Volsky, I will find a way to
talk myself aboard.”

“And
once you are there?”