Doppelganger (38 page)

“Yet when we take the launch back over to
Argos Fire
—what then?”

“I think you are also a Prime, or possibly a Free Radical, if you’ll pardon the expression. Your presence here was not an accident, it was willful. That tends to put you right inside a nexus, and where you go, it goes with you. As for the ship you knew, Admiral, when it vanished last May, that may have been the result of the impending Paradox. I do not presume to know exactly what may have happened to it, or to those good men you came to know. They may have entered some undefined region, where minutes and hours there could manifest as months and years here.”

“Could they reappear? They did this vanishing act many times before, in the North Atlantic, then off the island of Saint Helena, and again in the Pacific. The reports I supposedly wrote on those encounters clearly spoke of that.”

“Of this I can be certain of only one thing,” said Paul. “They could never reappear here at any time occupied by the ship that has just arrived. From what we were able to determine, they were here only twelve days initially.”

“Yes,” said Tovey. “Their Captain Fedorov explained that to me. It had something to do with a maintenance cycle on the ship’s propulsion system, and it occurred every twelve days. He said it took them some time before they discovered this. According to my reports, I did not encounter them until eight days after their arrival, on August 4th. But just a moment… With all due respect to your theories, Professor Dorland, there is something quite irregular about this message we just received. It uses a code word I personally assigned to that ship—
Geronimo
.”

“Yes, I was wondering if you might notice that.”

“Well, see here—my reports indicate we didn’t assign that name to the ship until after it vanished, on August 8th. I spent hours and hours reading all that material after our Mister Turing discovered it. I’m quite certain of this.”

“Interesting,” said Paul. “We picked up the reference between the ship and
Geronimo
, but there has been very little time for deep research. In fact, we haven’t been able to account for all the moves the ship made through time just yet, but I’m sure my people are working on that back home. Yes… This is very interesting.”

“Furthermore,” said Tovey, “the message has requested a response using a coded protocol that was arranged in Alexandria for private ship-to-ship communications with our newfound Allies. It was for command level access only. Whoever sent that message was obviously aware of this, which means they had to be in the know when we were at Alexandria in late January. The message is meant for this ship, the flagship of the Home Fleet, and requests signals protocol one. It was meant for me personally, and it is a request to use the equipment we spoke of earlier, the radio set the Russians provided for this very purpose.”

“So no one on that ship now should know that,” said Elena.

“Yet someone clearly does. Are you certain of your theory, Professor Dorland?”

“Nothing in all of this is ever certain, Admiral. Yet if what you say is true, then something very strange has happened here. It could be that one or more members of that crew were so significant to the outcome of these events, that they were also protected in a safe nexus. Their memory of past events might be still intact, or it could be that they might begin to recollect those earlier lived events by slow degrees. This is the only explanation I can offer.”

“Yes… I’ve experienced this very same thing—memories, arising from some deep place within me—things I know I never consciously lived through, as they purportedly happened next year! Yet I seem to recall these unlived events as if they had already happened. It’s a very odd feeling akin to
déjà vu.
As for more recent events since
Kirov
appeared here in June of 1940, I certainly haven’t forgotten one bit. I can clearly recall old Admiral Volsky, and that enterprising young Captain of his, Mister Fedorov. I’ve spent hours and hours discussing all this with them, and planning fleet operations between us. You told me why you think this is, why I haven’t lost these memories, and by Jove, I think the same must have happened on the Russian ship! Who knows, they might all be well and good there, and simply a bit bewildered after they’ve reappeared. You said yourself that months here might only be minutes to them. They vanish here last May and then suddenly turn up somewhere else. Huff Duff encoding at the bottom of this signal intercept indicates a point of origin… Very strange. They’ve moved well up into the Norwegian Sea. That’s just where they first encountered Wake Walker in the reports I wrote.”

“Yet that isn’t likely to repeat,” said Paul. “Is it?” He could see a wry grin on Tovey’s face.

“They say history never repeats itself,” said Tovey. “But in this case I believe it rhymes. Your Mister Twain was thought to have said that once, well, I’ll say it now. Admiral Wake-Walker was recently put in charge of preparations for the planned convoy operations to Murmansk. Operation Dervish is the code name we’ve given to the first, and it’s teeing up even as we speak. Wake-Walker is up there in the Norwegian Sea. We thought we might raid the German airfields at Petsamo and Kirkenes, until Mister Fedorov advised me against it. A bit like ringing the bell before all the guests have arrived. He said it might only alert the Germans to a heightened state of vigilance, and prompt them to reinforce those airfields. For that matter, he also disclosed that this particular raid was actually attempted in the history he knew, and it was a bloody disaster. So I persuaded the Admiralty to cancel the raid, and instead we assigned Wake-Walker to the Dervish convoy. It’s out a bit earlier than we initially planned, but to answer your question, yes, it is very likely that the Russians might encounter our Force P up there. Two Carriers,
Furious
and
Victorious
, a pair of good heavy cruisers, and a destroyer flotilla.”

“I think we had better get to that Russian radio set as soon as possible,” said Paul. “If all this is so, then someone on the Russian ship is trying to communicate. Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

* * *

“How
long do we wait?” said Karpov. “They’ve come right up on our horizon by now. Rodenko, what is the range to those ships?”

“34,000 meters, yet Fedorov was correct. That range is holding fairly well, over the horizon. I don’t think they know we’re here.”

“Just an assumption,” said Karpov. “The British radar is every bit as good as ours, and they had to have seen our helicopter. They are just playing very coy here.”

“But we have no signal intercepts on normal microwave bands for any British set I know,” said Rodenko. “I do have signals down where Fedorov advised me to look just now—but they are very weak.”

“Interesting,” said Admiral Volsky. “What were those signals bands, Mister Fedorov?”

Fedorov swallowed, giving Karpov a quick glance, but he was not the same young man he was when he first arrived here. The experience of all those many time shifts, and the battles he fought, had hardened him, and steeled his will. He had been made Captain of the ship by Volsky long before the hat fit him, but in time he developed considerable skill in that post, and the mindset of command to go with it. So he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Those ships we have on video feed are
County
Class cruisers, Royal Navy, and of a very old vintage. So I chose radar bands that might have been used in early British equipment.”

“How early?” asked Volsky. “Didn’t they first develop radar sets in WWII?”

“Correct sir.”

“This is a waste of time, Admiral,” said Karpov. “Old ships, new ships, you can see the guns on those forward decks as clear as I can.”

“Yet they should not be there,” said Fedorov quickly. “Those guns are obsolete, as are these ships. They should not be at sea.”

“Don’t be stupid, Lieutenant! They
are
at sea, no matter what you wish to call them. Can’t you see the video feed?”

“Correct,” said Fedorov, ignoring the insult and remaining calm. “And I also know what I’m looking at, Captain—two
County
Class cruisers. They are clearly there, yet they
cannot
be there, not in the year 2021, and if they are, then something very strange has happened here.” There it was, his first assertion that something more than an accident had happened to the ship.

“Are you telling me these ships were dragged out of the bone yards and put back in service? We may have to resort to such measures, but our fat capitalists here do not.”

“That could not be the case here, sir.”

“Why do you say this?” Volsky cut in, holding up a hand when he saw Karpov’s growing anger. He knew his Captain did not want to hear from junior officers like this in a command situation, so he quickly intervened before Karpov exploded.

“Because the last
County
Class cruiser, the
Cumberland
, was decommissioned, sold, and broken up for scrap in the year 1959. Believe me, Admiral. I know these ships very well. I have studied this all my adult life, as many here know.”

“You say they went to the scrap yards? All of them?”

“Every last one, sir. I know what I am seeing in the video feed, and it is an exact match for my silhouette book on this class. Yet every ship in that class is long gone. Two were sunk by the Japanese, in the last war, one was scuttled, and all the rest were scrapped between 1948 and 1959.”

“Then it’s a goddamn replica,” said Karpov. “Maybe it has to do with those old war documentaries Nikolin reported on the radio. Either that or you are quite mistaken, Fedorov. That knock on that head of yours must have shaken something loose. Now sit down, mind your business, and keep those stupid history books to your off hours, or I’ll have Orlov collect every last one and throw them overboard.”

“Easy… Easy…” said Admiral Volsky, slipping off the Captain’s chair and walking slowly over to the navigation station. “Let me see that book, Fedorov. The Captain may be right, but let me satisfy myself and have a look.”

Fedorov was relieved when Volsky came over, for he knew he simply had to get the Admiral to see his viewpoint, or they could start something here that would complicate everything.

“Why do you pander to his stupidity, Admiral? Fedorov, I think you need a few more days in sick bay. Have Zolkin examine your head again, because he clearly did not get it right the first two times.”

In spite of Karpov’s lashing tongue, Fedorov maintained his composure, handing the silhouette book to Admiral Volsky, and pointing out the reference. The Admiral looked up at the helo video feed, then down at the book.”

“It is certainly a good match,” he said.

“Then we are looking at a ghost fleet?” Karpov protested. “This is preposterous! I have heard a lot of guff in my day, Fedorov, but this tops it all. It's nonsense, I tell you.”

“Yet there they are,” said Admiral Volsky gesturing at the video. “You were just beating Fedorov over the head with the video feed. Yes? Or are you suggesting the British are feeding us this video footage with some new electronic warfare device?”

Karpov raised his eyebrows, thinking a moment. “That may be possible, sir.” His eyes widened as he spoke, quick to latch on to anything that would allow him to fit what he was seeing into some understandable point of reference, and dispel the illusion that Fedorov was spinning out. Fedorov knew what was coming out of his mouth next, an eerie echo of the same reaction he had the first time they were here.

“This could all be part of some elaborate ruse, designed to confuse us,” said Karpov. “Some kind of electronic warfare, perhaps a NATO PSYOP. That strange explosion we experienced hours ago may have been the opening salvo.” It was clear to him that such a deception would be much more plausible than anything Fedorov was saying now.

The strange replay of these events gave Fedorov the shivers, yet he knew he had to take a stronger line here, and the Admiral was the key to winning this argument before the missiles began to fly, and things got out of hand.

“Orlov?”

The Admiral wanted to know what his Chief of Operations thought, but Orlov looked as confused as anyone. He had idled with Fedorov at times, the two of them also sharing stories of the second war where both their grandfathers had served, but this was difficult to believe.

“I don't know what to think, Admiral. But, as it is clearly impossible that the British could resurrect ships decommissioned and demolished decades ago, then we must give further thought to what the Captain suggests. As for Fedorov, he did take a good knock on the head the other day. Perhaps he needs another one?” He gave the navigator an unfriendly look, a warning in his eyes.

“Impossible, you say, yet this very ship has risen from the dead, has it not?” Volsky’s voice was a strange echo of the past, heightening the sense of déjà vu for Fedorov.

Karpov took a deep breath, stiffening, gratified that Orlov had again reinforced his position. “Enough of this game,” he said. “If this is a PSYOP then the British have gone too far! These ships may be responsible for everything we have been dealing with here.”

“A moment ago it was this submarine that was responsible for all of our problems,” said Admiral Volsky. “Now you suggest the British are running some elaborate psychological operation aimed at confusing us?”

Karpov frowned, clearly unhappy with the Admiral’s remark, yet he persisted. “If they do not identify themselves under international protocols, then it is permitted to give fair warning and fire a shot across their bow, sir. Everything we have endured here has been a clear provocation. It is time we let them know that the Russian Navy will not tolerate this nonsense.” He folded his arms, his anger apparent, and the look he gave Fedorov was clearly meant to silence any further comment on his part.

The Admiral rubbed his forehead, the headache he complained about returning again with the stress of all that had happened. The next time he looked up to check the video feed, he seemed to sway on his feet, his eyes glazed over, and he began to fall.