Authors: John Schettler
Karpov
was shaking his head. “This doesn’t make any sense!”
“No, it
doesn’t, but it is true. Now, as to who I really am… the ship must have slipped
through some hole in time, and then here it was, in the middle of WWII. It did
this and it did that, and then it slipped again. I’ll make a very long story
short. Eventually that ship out there found its way to the year 1940, a little
over a year ago, and it has been here ever since, until it slipped again,
vanishing last May.”
“This
is crazy! You are speaking of this as if it has already happened.”
“Because
it has. You lived through it all—or rather I did, and I found it very awkward
to find myself entering 1941 with the thought of what might happen come July
28th, the day we first slipped, and found ourselves here—the day
you
would arrive here again. You see, in the course of these events I had a rather bad
disagreement with Admiral Volsky. I was separated from the ship, but I made the
best of my situation. The knowledge I had of the future gave me quite an edge, and
I became a man of some importance in Siberia. Yes… there I was… there you were,
and July 28th looked like a bad storm on the horizon. What would happen, I
wondered? Would I survive, or would it be you? It never occurred to me that we
might
both
survive that day, but that should be abundantly clear to us
at this moment.”
The
Captain took off his cap. Leaning forward and squinting at the man, but as he
did so, he could also feel a sudden stab of pain. He stepped back, shaken,
astounded, bewildered, and yet there he was. He was staring at his own self, as
clear as the image he might see in any mirror, but it was a darker self, more
weathered, and bore the scars of things this man was trying to describe,
impossible things, the insanity of this moment high on that list. They would
each feel the weight of what they now knew, even if they would never really
quite understand it, or how it could happen.
But
they could
feel
it. The Captain could feel the truth in what the other
man was saying now, just as he could feel the pain if he edged too close to the
man. It was
true
. There he was, Vladimir Karpov, Captain, Admiral, call
him what you will. A rose was a rose, by any other name, and here was the black
rose of his own being, its thorny stem bringing it to this dark bloom, over
many months and years of pain and struggle.
“No
closer…” said the Siberian, torn between his desire to see the Captain more
clearly, and the pain it provoked. “You feel it too, don’t you. Yes, that
terrible pain, as though the universe simply cannot abide the mistake it has
made here. I would embrace you, brother, but let us be cautious here and not
test God’s patience. We can come no closer, but accept now what I am telling
you. We are one and the same. You are my brother, and I am yours, your own
self, and it is now 1941. I will spare you the journey I had to take to get
where you see me standing now, but together we will rewrite that unfortunate
history, and become something more than either of us could ever be on our own. So
welcome home, Vladimir, I have so much to tell you. We have much to plan and do
here together, and it will begin with that ship out there.”
He
smiled, and it was as if the Captain could read the man’s inner thoughts. He
looked at the scar on his face, and some deep inner memory returned to him,
upwelling from a darkness within him that seemed unfathomable. He saw himself
on the weather deck off the bridge, a pistol in his hand, and the sea all
around him erupting with flame and fire, a roiling sea battle underway, and
then the memory vanished.
Yes,
welcome home, my brother, thought the Siberian, and perhaps my nemesis as well,
from the pain I feel in being this close to you. Yet he forced himself to smile
through that pain, and saw the Captain smiling as well.
“Understand?”
said the Siberian.
And the
Captain understood.
Part
VIII
The Second
Chance
“Then Jonah prayed to the Lord
his God from the belly of the fish, saying, “I called out to the Lord, out of
my distress, and he answered me; out of the belly of Sheol I cried, and you
heard my voice. For you cast me into the deep, into the heart of the seas, and
the flood surrounded me; all your waves and your billows passed over me. Then I
said, ‘I am driven away from your sight; yet I shall again look upon your holy
temple.’ The waters closed in over me to take my life; the deep surrounded me;
weeds were wrapped about my head ...”
―
Jonah, 2:1-10
The
carefully laid trap had closed. The Siberian now had
Volsky, and Fedorov under his thumb, and far easier than he thought things
might have gone. Now this unexpected dividend, a duplicate self! He could not
begin to fathom the arcane mysteries of time that had led to this, though he
still felt that it was his own importance that made him irreplaceable in this
milieu, so much so, that time was forced to double down on the wager he had
made as he approached the fearsome possibilities inherent in Paradox Hour.
Yet he
had survived, they had both survived, and now it was time to embrace his
brother self, and weave him into the tapestry of plans he had been creating
these last months. The object of his desire was now tantalizingly close. He had
only to attend to a few details before he stood once again on the bridge of
Kirov
.
“Brother,”
he said, the moonlight gleaming in his dark eyes. “Now we must plan. I came
here for the ship, but finding you was more than any man could have hoped for,
the greatest shock and surprise of any lifetime. Now we must decide how we move
forward.
“You
came for the ship? My ship?” said the Captain.
“Our
ship,” the Siberian said quickly. “Yes, we are its rightful Captain, and you
will be pleased to know that we will no longer have to stand in Volsky’s
shadow. The time is August of 1941, this you must know and believe, but things
have changed. Our nation was torn apart by a long simmering civil war that
never ended in this version of the history, because Stalin died as a young man,
and now Sergei Kirov rules in his place.”
“Kirov?
But he was assassinated.”
“Yes,
by Stalin. Well, apparently he got to Stalin first.”
“You
are certain of this?”
“Of
course, I was with him in Moscow only yesterday, arranging this little welcome
for Volsky. As this ship serves the interests of our nation, in any time, Sergei
Kirov has given me full authority to take it under my command, and soon I will
board to take my place on the bridge. The problem is, I cannot have you there
with me, as much as I might wish to do so.”
“What?
You came here to take the ship, and now you think to leave me stranded here
along with Volsky?”
“No, brother.
Hear me out. Can you imagine the reaction of the crew now should the two of us
stride aboard? Consider that for a moment. You have been batting this situation
around with Volsky and Fedorov for days now, looking at videos, investigating
that desolate island to look for the weather station, yet the crew is
completely clueless. You have seen Severomorsk first hand here, and had the
shock of encountering your own doppelganger, a refugee in time, come home at
last. All of this must have been very trying, but by now it has removed any
doubt of what has happened to the ship, and where we truly are. But the crew?
They are not ready. Right now it is only whispers and rumors, but few have
really seen anything. Yes, they know something very strange is going on, but
cannot grasp the real truth yet. They must be weaned from their old lives, and
brought slowly into the realization of what has happened.”
“Of
course,” said the Captain.
“Then
you also understand that to see us both now, side by side on the ship, would be
too much of a shock at the beginning, just as it is also a physical shock to us
both when we draw near one another. Most inconvenient, but I suppose Mother
Time has her rules. We must be a terrible affront to her dignity, and the pain
we feel when near one another is the result. So here is what I propose… But
first let me tell you what I have been doing these last few years, and how I
came to be here.”
He told
the story, summing up the early sorties in time, but omitting the tale of his
failed attempts to take the ship earlier. He merely stated that in the course
of these events he became separated from the ship, and had to fare for himself.
Explaining the presence of Ivan Volkov was going to be difficult, so he merely
painted him as another figure rising from the skewed history to fill the vacuum
Stalin’s death created. He said nothing of Ilanskiy, or who Volkov really was,
inwardly making the excuse that it was all too complex to get into now, though
he knew he was lying to his own self, and in more ways than one.
“So I
took over the Air Corps in Siberia, and command of the western front opposite
Orenburg and Volkov’s forces. He is our mortal enemy, brother, and I have
already fought many battles against that man, on land and in the sky. Our last
engagement was costly, though the price he paid was much higher. It was my
intention to finish what we started, continue to build my airship fleet, and
bring Volkov to his knees. Yes, his fleet greatly outnumbers us now, but with
my skill in battle, I have held the balance, and kept Volkov in check. The
General Secretary has now given me two more airships, and with weapons and
radars from the lockers aboard
Kirov
, my fleet will now be stronger than
ever!”
He
shared his plan for transferring
Oko
panels and light hand held missiles
to his airships, to make them invincible in battle with Volkov’s fleet. “You
see?”
“That
is why you came for the ship, to get this technology edge?”
“In
part, but think, brother…. What happens come December in the far east?”
“Japan,”
said the Captain.
“Correct.
We faced them before, and they were our most determined and formidable foe. I
cannot get into it all now, but the ship had already sustained damage and we
were slowly running out of air defense missiles. The Japanese have six fleet
carriers, and thousands of planes. And do you know what they also have?
Vladivostok!”
“What?
That never happened in the history.”
“It has
this time. It was an unfortunate incident back in 1908, a disaster largely precipitated
by Volsky’s meddling, and our young Navigator.”
“Fedorov?
What could they have done to cause the loss of Vladivostok?”
“One
day I will explain it all to you in detail, but we have little time now. The
Japanese have Vladivostok, and more. They now control all of Sakhalin Island,
portions of Kamchatka, all of Primorskiy Province, and even have troops within
a hundred kilometers of Lake Baikal!”
“My
God,” said the Captain.
“Yes,”
the Siberian said quickly. “That all happened well before the war, but now
Japan is about to become a belligerent in this conflict, and who knows what else
they have their eyes on. We’ve lost our only port in the far east, and I am
going to redress that wrong, but to do so I need the ship. Now that I have
discovered you exist, I desperately need you as well.”
“Then
let us board together. The men will come around.”
“That
they will, but what about my airship fleet? I need a firm hand and a skilled
battle tactician to take my place as Admiral of the Siberian Air Corps.”
“And
you want me to do this? I know nothing of airships, or how they fight.”
“Nor
did I a short while ago, but I discovered that commanding an airship was very
much like being a Captain of a ship at sea, only you move in three dimensions
instead of only two. I took to it like a duck to water, as you will.”
“Then
why not continue on in that role, and I will take the ship east, if that is
your plan. That seems the proper way to do this, as you have invested so much
in securing your position in Siberia. Don’t you belong there?”
“True,
but I think it best if I take
Kirov
at the outset. You see, I know
everything that has happened. I can use the time as we sail east to slowly
brief the men, and bring them to the fighting crew they were for me before. We
arrived, fought in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and then sailed on to
the Pacific in the most dangerous fighting ship on this earth. I have sunk
American carriers and battleships, smashed the great Japanese flagship
Yamato
,
and so much more. Now I plan to finish the job—or rather begin that task again.
We will finish it together. I know what you can do, brother, and you must know
it as well. We have taken on all comers, and beaten them all—even the American
7th Fleet in 2021.”
“What?
You fought there too?”
“I will
tell you how and why one day. But suffice it to say that I am well seasoned by
all of these battles at sea. While you have great potential, you have yet to
see your first real combat. On the other hand I am kinetic, proven, a veteran,
and with full situational awareness of what is happening here. Therefore I must
take command of our principle asset now, and you will take command of the
Siberian Air Corps in my place.”
“You
take the goddamned ship and I get command of a fleet of obsolete Zeppelins?”
The Captain was clearly unhappy.
“Come
now, consider this well. These are not obsolete aircraft. Do you know I had the
temerity to overfly Germany, and I actually bombed Berlin with my flagship,
Tunguska
,
a truly marvelous ship. There are things it can do that will amaze you. I took
down six of Volkov’s airships, and now, with radars and missiles from
Kirov
,
Tunguska
will be the largest and most powerful airship on earth! Think, brother.
Consider just what I have told you here. There is so very much more to learn
before you will be fully effective. You must gain experience and knowledge, get
your feet rooted firmly in this era, and together we will plan the fate of all
the decades yet to come. Yet now, for the moment, you must take the role of the
Devil’s Adjutant here. Surely you can see that. At times it will be necessary
for us to switch places, and you will command the ship, while I attend to
business in Siberia. We will share command. I promise you this.”
The
Captain considered, realizing how crazy it was to even be having this
conversation with himself. But the Siberian was correct. There was simply too
much he did not yet know about this situation, and that ignorance could be very
costly. He nodded slowly, realizing that he was now hearing the advice and
appeal of his own self, a more experienced and seasoned self, and he would be
foolish to let his pride interfere with sound judgment now.
“So
instead of standing in Volsky’s shadow, you now ask me to stand in yours… Very
well,” he said. “What you say makes some sense. I have too much to learn just
now, but I will hold you to the promise that we will one day stand together as
one, as equals aboard
Kirov
, and soon.”
“You
have my word on that,” said the Siberian. “I
need
you, brother. I need
your intelligence, your will, your sound tactical skills in battle, for you
have all those in great abundance. What man on earth has ever had such an
opportunity as that which lies before us at this moment? Not Caesar, nor
Alexander, nor Napoleon had the advantage we now possess—a second self!
Together we are invincible, in this world or any other. Yes?”
“Of
course,” said the Captain, his eyes gleaming.
“Excellent,”
said the Siberian. “So here is what I propose. I will board the ship, and I
have three airships close at hand. You will board
Tunguska
, and
accompany me as we sail east. You will be our forward eyes and ears, scouting
the way, reporting on sea and ice conditions, and more. Later, when we reach
the Pacific, we will plan how to deal with the Japanese together, only this
time they will be the ones that get the rude awakening of a surprise attack.
You will see! Together, we will rewrite the entire history of the Pacific War,
and restore Russia’s lost territories, and her position of power and authority
there.”
“Yet
the Japanese will be very tough,” said the Captain. “You said this yourself.
They will fight to the last man.”
“True,
but they cannot measure us. We will defeat them.”
“Fedorov
could tell you all about them,” said the Captain, the barest hint of
exasperation in his voice.
“Yes,
we can use him for a while, but he could be a problem later. As to Volsky, I
will leave him here, and he can keep Admiral Golovko company at tea.”
The
Captain smiled. “Good riddance,” he said. “And don’t take any guff from Fedorov
either. He was arguing with me on the damn bridge, and right in front of the
Admiral!”
“Oh, I
know that all too well. He is a real nuisance, but I’ll keep him under my
thumb.”
“The
temerity of that man,” said the Captain. “Why, he convinced the Admiral to send
out a coded message to the Royal Navy. A man named Tovey replied, claiming to
be Admiral of the British fleet, wishing to speak with Volsky or Fedorov.”
“Tell
me more.” The Siberian seemed very keen to hear about this. “A coded message?
What was it?”
“You
will have to ask Nikolin… I assumed it was something Fedorov got from one of
his books. He’s very clever, as we both know. I’ll admit that he figured all this
out long before anyone else. At first I thought he was crazy, suffering from a
good knock on the head, but then I began to suspect something more was going
on. He seemed to be thick as thieves with the British, claiming he had
personally met the Admiral who signaled us. I found out this man Tovey was a
historical figure, so I thought this was nothing more than Fedorov’s obsession
with the history, a delusion. But there was a flaw in this little story. Tovey claimed
to be on a ship that doesn’t exist, the HMS
Invincible
.”