Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series) (9 page)

* * *

The
food tasted better than he could
remember for a very long time, and the Captain ate with real appetite now,
feeling much more himself when he had finished. He wasted little time getting
back up to the bridge, where he planned to make crew rotations and see about
this ship on their horizon. The answer to many of the questions he took to his
quarters could easily be on that ship.

Out
on a weather deck for some fresh air, he looked at the sky for the first time.
Zolkin was correct, it was strikingly beautiful behind them to the west, a
ruddy orange glow there on the horizon, as if a second sun were rising in
opposition to the eastern sun, which was slowly climbing. Very odd, he thought,
wondering what caused the strange effect. The thought that it was a residual
effect from the warhead he fired crossed his mind. Could they have fallen back
into the waters of 1945 while he slept? This thought set him hastening to the
bridge.

Along
the way he stopped to talk with the men in the corridors and compartments
below. He could see the questions in their eyes, wondering what was happening,
and how the battle turned out. He told them not to worry, that all was in hand
and that he would make a general announcement to the crew shortly.

“Are
the Americans still after us, sir? Did we beat them?”

“I
think we gave them much more than they wanted,” said Karpov. “They’ll learn not
to tangle with the crew of this ship, eh?” He pointed to the deck as he said
that, and the young seaman smiled.

Some
minutes later he was back on the bridge in a new uniform, but he made a point
of taking his service cap, no matter how ridiculous he thought he looked with
it. They were up in the northern latitudes, and so he thought he might soon get
back to his fur lined Ushanka. That was a hat!

“Captain
on the bridge!”

“As
you were, gentlemen,” he said briskly. “Anything to report, Mister Rodenko?”

“Surface
contact, sir. We picked it up with the AEW Helo four hours ago. I thought it
prudent to have a look around after you went below.”

“Well
done. What did you find?”

“We
have it on the Fregat system now, sir. It’s certainly a surface ship, making
about 16 knots on a heading of 275 west.” He walked to the Plexiglas screen,
which triggered a bitter memory of the American fleet surging north at them
just hours ago, the screen alight with hundreds of air/sea contacts. This time
it was completely empty. There was not a single airborne contact reported, and
only this one surface ship in the vicinity.

“What
are those land formations to the north?”

“That
would be the Aleutian Island chain, sir, Amchitka Island. The contact heading
has been steady the last few hours and back traces to Dutch Harbor.”

“Then
this is an American ship?”

“Possibly,
sir.”

Karpov’s
eyes narrowed. “How soon before we have them on our horizon?”

“Not
long now. I would say another thirty minutes. We’re presently at 20 knots.”

“Helm.
Go to thirty knots.” Karpov immediately ordered a speed change.

“Sir,
Aye, ahead 30.”

“Getting
curious, Captain?”

“This
ship holds the answer to some very important questions, Rodenko. I intended to
relieve you so you could get some rest, but can you carry on for another hour?”

“Certainly,
sir.”

“Good…
Then let’s see what is darkening our horizon this time.”

Chapter 8

They
saw it twenty minutes later, barely
visible on the horizon until Karpov ordered the Tin Man opticals to zoom in.
Now they were looking at what appeared to be an elegant clipper ship steamer, hull
painted white, with a fine swept bow, two stacks amidships and what looked to
be three tall masts at intervals along the deck.

“That
is commercial traffic,” said Karpov. “What would you say its displacement is?”

“Not
more than five or six thousand tons, sir,” said Rodenko. They overlaid a metric
display on the HD video feed, and the ship’s length appeared to be about 450
feet. Five lifeboats were prominently mounted along the main superstructure,
but there were no visible gun turrets. It looked like an old steamer from a
bygone era, but in remarkably good condition.

“Well
what have we here?” said Karpov. “Let’s get closer. Continue on intercept
course. The ship will come to level two action stations. Mister Samsonov, please
activate the forward deck gun.”

“Aye,
sir. Forward gun ready.”

The
Captain was taking no chances, but as they closed the range it was apparent
that the ship posed no military threat. Three minutes later Nikolin’s eyes
brightened. “Sir, I’m picking up some Morse code.”

“Morse
code? From that ship?”

“Possibly,
sir. It is using a call sign of MPG. Very odd, sir.” He listened intently,
jotting down something on his notepad. “It reads CQ, CQ, CQ, GZXW - MPG Calling
ship off our port bow - requesting identification, KW – Back to you.”

“MPG?”

“Apparently
a ship identifier call sign, sir.”

“Can
we look that up, Mister Nikolin?”

“I
will try, sir. But should I return this signal?”

“Use
the radio and transmit in English. Ask them to identify themselves as well.”

Nikolin
sent a standard hail, but the only reply they received was a continued stream
of Morse code, nothing on voice radio. He used the ship’s computers to try and
look up the call signs he was receiving, and found a reference.

“I
have a record in the ship registry, sir, but there are two references. One is
for GZXW as the Canadian Pacific Steamships Company. The MPG designates this
ship as the
Empress Of China
. I have looked it up in the ship database,
and there is no current listing for a ship by that name.”

“Use
the historical index,” said Karpov. “Find out if there were ships using that
name in the past.”

“Right,
sir. I have three references. They were all ocean steamship liners belonging to
that same company, yet our image database would seem to match the first one:
Empress
of China
, built by Naval Construction & Armament Co., Barrow, England
for Canadian Pacific Steamships, LTD. The ship was making regular runs as a
British Royal Mail Ship out of Vancouver BC to ports east, including Japan and
sometimes even Vladivostok. Yokohama is listed as her most frequent Eastern
Pacific terminal port.”

“You
say it was built by the British? What year, Nikolin? When was it commissioned?”

“Laid
down in 1890. Launched on the 25th of March, and her maiden voyage was15 July
1891.”

“1891?
Quite an old ship…How long was this ship in service? Does it list that
information?”

“Yes,
sir. The registry reads that the ship ran aground in rough seas and fog on 27
July 1911 off Yokohama. She was abandoned, salvaged and scrapped there in
1912.”

“My
God! 1912? If that is, in fact, the
Empress of China,
then we…We must be
somewhere between those dates, between 1891 and 1912! We must have moved
further
back
in time, not forward.”

“We
should verify this information, Captain,” said Rodenko. That ship could be a
replica. We have never displaced to a time earlier than 1941.”

“Why
would it refuse our radio hail and answer only in Morse Code? Nikolin… Signal
them back in Morse. Give our callsign as KIRV. Tell them our ship’s chronometer
is damaged. Request the current date and time.” It was a good ploy, because
ship’s chronometers were essential to navigation in early decades.

Nikolin
tapped out the message in Morse, and within minutes they received a reply.
“Sir…They reply and state their ship’s chronometer currently reads 09:40 – 100708.
That would be the 10th day of July—”

“1908?”
The look of astonishment on Karpov’s face said everything.”

* * *

The
ball
dropped for the
very first time in Times Square that year, marking the start of a long
tradition counting down the last few seconds as time rolled on in its endless
round. 1908 had begun with a flourish of celebration and renewed optimism, in
an era where new firsts, and the energy of discovery still infused life with a
sense of vigor and boldness.

People
were different then. They were not tethered to one another by wires just yet,
or slaves to modern devices like computers, touch pads, cell phones. Planes and
cars were in their infancy, more items of fancy for the adventurous and the
very rich than anything else. A man named Henry Ford would change all that
later that year, when he began turning out the very first Model Ts from an
assembly line in September. Oil was discovered on the Arabian peninsula for the
first time in May of 1908, insuring that Ford's cars would have a steady and
reliable source of fuel for the next 150 years.

The
people of 1908 were not yet dependent on all these electronics and engines, the
full bloom of a seed that was only now being planted in the fields of
technology and industry. They were stronger in many ways than the denizens of
our modern cities, taking life in their hands and carrying it on their broad
shoulders in a way people in the modern world of 2021 would never understand.
They were quieter of spirit, more settled, rooted to the land, much like the
farmer Walt Whitman wrote about in his poetry, a man “of wonderful vigor,
calmness, beauty of person; the shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of
his hair and beard, and the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes—the richness
and breadth of his manners…”

There
was something of that farmer that was still the root and sinew of most people
of that day. Life was more rustic, even in the big cities. It was raw,
unrefined, and in some ways still vested with a quality of innocence. The world
had not yet committed itself to the insanity of a world war yet, though that
dreadful experience was just ahead as the century settled into its stride. It
was to be a year of fire, of discovery, and first time achievements; a year of
hard won races and marathon journeys of endurance. It was a year where the
color of white was all the rage for navies and athletes, and for the strange
and largely unexplained “white nights” that illuminated most of Europe and even
parts of North America in early July.

Scientists
and industrialists of that day were flush with the energy of invention and
discovery as well. A 40,000 year old Neanderthal skeleton was dug up in
southwest France. Helium had been liquefied for the first time. The term
schizophrenia entered the English language, darkening the ruminations of
psychologists in all the days ahead. The Geiger counter was invented to detect
an energy that few, if any, really understood in that day. The Nobel Prize in
physics went to Gabriel Lippman for the first reproduction of colors in
photography. Atomic theory was being pioneered by Ernest Rutherford at a time
when a great future physicist like Edward Teller, inventor of the hydrogen
bomb, was just being born. Astronomers discovered one of Jupiter's moons that
year, and ruminated on comets and meteors, but failed to spot something else
looming on the near horizon of the ecliptic plane, even now bearing down on
planet earth.

Twelve
days into the new year the first long distance radio message was sent from the
Eiffel tower, marking a new era in communications. On a roll, the very next day
the French pilot Henry Farman became the first European to fly roundtrip,
heralding the onset of airline operations that would span the whole of the
globe in decades to come. The first passenger flight actually occurred on May
14th that year, with many more to come in a time long before the endless
security and check-in lines at modern day airports.

In
New York City women's rights took a hit when the city passed an ordinance
forbidding women to smoke. The men of the city were exempt, however, allowing
them to preserve the ritual with cigar, pipe and cigarette as yet one more
privilege they could lord over the fairer sex. Cincinnati Mayor Mark Breith
also proclaimed that, “women are not physically fit to operate automobiles.”
Thankfully, the first railway tunnel under the Hudson River opened that year on
February 21st, so they could go by train.

It
was a good year for explorers when Shackleton climbed Mt. Erebus in Antarctica
on March 5th, while at the opposite end of the earth, Frederick A. Cook claimed
to reach North Pole—a proclamation that was later disputed and found to be
false. In the US, one John Krohn began his walk around the entire perimeter of
country, which was to take him all of 357 days. On wheels, the “Great Auto
Race,” an around the world marathon from New York to Paris kicked off on
February 12th. They would head west to cross the US, planning to work their way
up the coast through Alaska and cross the Bering Sea to Siberia where top
German and American contenders would witness a truly earth shattering event
before their journey ended.