Nemesis (23 page)

“Yes,”
said the Siberian. “It does exist, and I know why he wanted to speak to Volsky
or Fedorov, but I’ll explain that later.”

The
Captain shook his head. “Well that request seemed very odd to me, and I was
beginning to suspect our Navigator was a double agent, so I took the matter to
Volsky myself. Of course, that was useless. Leave the man alone, he tells me. All
he has done here is use his eyes and training to become the great pain in the
ass he was on the bridge. I should have relieved him, or had him thrown in the
brig the moment he opened his little mouth.”

The
Siberian was silent, deeply pondering. “Fedorov claimed to have personally met
Admiral Tovey? How very odd. Are you certain you cannot remember what this
message was?” he asked the Captain.

“Let me
think. Ah, yes, I remember now. We were on the bridge, analyzing video feed on
a pair of old British ships. Fedorov was trying to prove they were from World
War II. He was correct, as I see now, but who could believe that? Then he begged
the Admiral to send out a message… Let me think…
Geronimo.
Yes, that was
it. Home Flag respond… then something about a fleet signals protocol
one. He said it was a command level channel for Royal Navy operations,
something he got from his books, or so I assumed. But lo and behold, the
British came back on the radio, and it was this Admiral Tovey!”

The
Siberian only heard one word in everything the Captain was saying,
Geronimo
,
and it sounded alarm bells that prickled up his spine, a red heat at the back
of his neck.

“Fedorov
used that word—
Geronimo?
You are certain of this?”

“Just
as I told you.”

“And he
used it before you received this message?”

“Correct.
He urged the Admiral to send that code, and Volsky went along. Can you believe
that? It could have meant anything. It could have been a signal to attack, and
I was very suspicious of him after that.”

“Well,
well, well… The Siberian’s eyes narrowed with thought. “He did not get that
from any of his books, brother. It is something that would only be known to
someone living in this era… Unless…”

The
Siberian’s mind was running through every possibility now. Clearly this man
before him was unknowing, an innocent untried version of his own self, who was
only just beginning to come to terms with this incredible story. If that were
so, then every member of the crew should be equally oblivious. So how could
Fedorov have known that code word? Could it be that the events of the 28th also
physically changed the contents of his history books? Is that where he learned
of it? Could he have discovered evidence of the first coming right there in his
own little library? That would be very odd, but also very important if it
actually happened. I must grill the man about it, and find out what occurred.

“Something
wrong?” asked the Captain.

“Just
an oddity,” said the Siberian, one of those dangling threads in the tapestry
that seems ill considered. I will think about this, and get to the bottom of
it. In the meantime, I had Tyrenkov go fetch Troyak and the Marines from the launch,
and feed them well. Now it’s time to board the ship. I wish you could be at my
side, brother, but you can see this is for the best, at least until the crew is
brought over the line.”

“Then
where will I go?”

“With
Tyrenkov, to the airships. Board
Tunguska
and tell the Air Commandant to
make ready to depart. Remember, you are the supreme authority aboard that ship.
The man’s name is Bogrov, competent, a good airship Captain, but he is not a
fighting soul. Take the three ships up to the Kara Sea, and hover there to wait
for us. We will join you soon.”

“Very
well, but just one thing,” said the Captain. “You look… different. What if they
realize…”

“Ah
yes, the scar. Don’t worry, I’ve considered every detail of this operation.” He
reached into his pocket and produced the gauze he had worn when speaking with
Volsky and Fedorov. “I will wear this for a few days. The roads are muddy here,
and I will just tell Rodenko I slipped and fell—cut my cheek on a piece of
scrap metal. After a few days, that should explain the scar.”

“What
about Zolkin?” said the Captain. “He’ll want to doctor you up when he sees
that.”

“Oh.
Don’t worry about him. Yes, he can be a real pest as well, more than you
realize. But forewarned is forearmed, and I know everything he is capable of
doing, because I’ve already lived through it all. This is the second time
around, brother, at least for me. I’ll admit that I made a few mistakes the
first time, but that is understandable given the pressure we were under. But
not this time. No. Everything will be well planned, and God help anyone who
tries to stand in my way… In
our
way.”

The
Captain noted that little stumble, but said nothing more.

Fedorov
found himself escorted to an old fishing trawler by three
armed guards, and soon Tyrenkov appeared, looming like a ghostly spirit in the
mist. Something about the silence that surrounded the man was most
disconcerting. His eyes always seemed to be studying you, and behind them was a
keen mind, thinking, analyzing, considering.

“Where
is Sergeant Troyak and the Marines?” asked Fedorov.

“Finishing
dinner. I trust you were well served.”

“I had
little appetite,” said Fedorov.

“You
are understandably upset to see your Admiral relieved of command. But this is
war. It has happened many times before.”

Fedorov
could feel the other man’s eyes on him, noting his reactions, and looking for
any signs that might be cause for alarm. It was clear this man was still
suspicious, so he knew he had to be very careful here.

“The
Admiral was a fair man,” he said glumly. “He would listen to me, unlike Karpov.
What happened to the Captain? How was he injured?”

“A
little fall on the way over. Just a scratch. A medic applied medicine, and
there was no bleeding to speak of.”

“He
seemed so… different. He was saying things that made no sense.” Fedorov kept
going over the encounter with Karpov in his mind, rooting out anything that
would have been confusing to his older, unknowing self. He had to appear to
still be that man, and had no doubt that Tyrenkov was looking for any clue now
that he might not be the man he seemed.

“I am
told you are quite the historian,” said Tyrenkov.

“Yes, I
know this history well.”

“Then
surely you can see the wisdom in this order. The Soviet Union is in real
jeopardy now. The history you may know has changed considerably. The death of
Stalin changed a good deal more than you realize. Your Captain seems a most
determined man. You would do well to help him in any way you can.”

“Who
are these other men?” asked Fedorov.

“They will
be joining the Captain aboard, and a few more, just in case your crew is not
easily convinced. We cannot take any chances that this ship goes astray. Surely
you can understand that. I’m told you were the first to realized what had
happened to your ship. Now you must help convince the remainder of your
officers and crew. Those who cooperate can serve us well. Those who do not…”

Fedorov
knew a warning when he heard one, and said nothing more. A moment later a group
of security men, all in dark black uniforms appeared, one particularly large
and threatening—Grilikov.

*

“Very
well, Admiral,” said Karpov. “This matter is now
concluded. There is only one little detail we need to tie off before I leave
you.”

“This
is outrageous, Karpov. How can you be complicit in this? Don’t you realize how
dangerous it is should that ship fall into the wrong hands here in this time?”

“Indeed
I do, but it has now fallen into the right hands, Admiral. You would not know how
to do what is necessary here. I know you only too well. So now we have only one
little detail to conclude this business. I must request you surrender your
key.”

The
Admiral’s heart skipped a beat when he heard that, his fist tightening on the
key Fedorov had given him in his pocket. How did Karpov know? Did he have the
room bugged? Were men watching and listening when Fedorov gave the object to
him?

“Yes
Admiral, your command key. Oh, I suppose I could easily order Martinov to reset
the command key setting from its standard default requiring two key insertions,
but I will need your key in any case. Surely you understand why.”

Volsky
did not know whether to be relieved or even more anxious now. Clearly Karpov
was referring to the command key for special warhead activation on the ship,
and not the key Fedorov had given him. He reluctantly reached for the chain around
his neck, and took it off, realizing there was no recourse now. Better that
there be two keys aboard than only one. This way there was a chance that the
fail safe requiring two key insertions might remain in place.

“Be
very careful now, Karpov. I hope you have no thoughts about ever using the
weapons this key enables.”

“Of
course not,” said Karpov. “This is a mere formality, Admiral. The key belongs
aboard the ship, and I will assign it to my
Starpom
. I was considering
Rodenko. Do you agree?”

Karpov
had no intention of passing the key to anyone, but he was merely mincing words
here, to smooth this transition.

“Rodenko
is a good officer,” said Volsky. “Or Zolkin.” The Admiral made the suggestion,
hoping that, if Zolkin got the key, he might prevent a disaster, though he knew
that Karpov would probably not go along with this suggestion.

“Zolkin?
He’s not in the normal chain of command.”

“That
is true, but he is a man of conscience, a man of sound reason. You would do well
to listen to him. As for me, I have every intention of contacting this Sergei
Kirov as you suggested earlier. Why he would request the removal of a sitting Admiral
is beyond me. You say this was done by our own people in the future, yet I am
very suspicious, Karpov. I hope the ship will remain here in Kola Bay for some
time. Yes?”

“I’m
afraid not. We have urgent business elsewhere. As for your appeal to Sergei
Kirov, you may try, but I’m afraid this has all been decided. Farewell,
Admiral. Time to make a little edit or two in this sad history. Fedorov won’t
like it, but someone has to clean up this mess, and it might as well be me.”

“Don’t
bully him, Karpov,” said Volsky, making one final appeal. “You know he was
right all along. Listen to him. He’s a good officer too.”

“Yes…
He was…” Karpov said nothing more, and strode off, his footsteps hard on the
bare wood floor, a mocking echo in the room as he went.

When he
reached the Admiral’s launch, he found it guarded only by his own men, as he
had ordered. Troyak and the other two Marines would be brought over on a
trawler, along with another section of his own security detail. As Tyrenkov had
explained to Fedorov, he would assure that he could now hold the ship he was
taking, knowing the difficulties he had experienced in the past. The addition
of his security men would require some adjustments, but they could accommodate
that many men, and he would have Orlov handle the settling in.

Orlov!
He finally realized he would be over there as well! The bastard is probably
sweetening up his coffee and hovering over Samsonov, as he always does on the
bridge. Yes, big, tough Orlov. He likes to throw his muscle around, and even
had the temerity to strike me, a Captain! Yet he will be as clueless as Volsky
and Fedorov were. He won’t remember anything. So I suppose I will give him a
pardon for that fist in my belly. But I must keep an eye on Orlov too. Wait
until he sees Grilikov! Yes, the two of them will make a wonderful little duet.
I can have Grilikov work with Orlov to settle the ship’s affairs, and the crew
will give me no trouble this time, I’m sure of it.

The
journey over was a heady one for Karpov. As they drew near, the massive hulk of
the ship loomed in the mist, and Karpov breathed deeply, as if taking in the power
that had now been delivered to his grasp. At last, he thought. I am coming
home. I will now control the most powerful vessel on this earth, with the only
working nuclear warheads for at least the next several years. I must use that
power very judiciously.

The two
man receiving crew was waiting, and they lowered the winch to have the launch
lifted aboard. Karpov directed his men on how it should be secured, and when it
was finally raised up, he smiled, realizing he was now aboard
Kirov
, at
long last, home again. His plan had worked flawlessly. There had been no
bloodshed, and Volsky swallowed his little ruse like a bad Sardine.

Beyond
this obvious windfall, he had the added benefit of having met his very own
self! He could see that the Captain was also reluctant to leave the ship. Yes,
he would seem like a fish out of water for a good long while, but he will
adjust, just as I have. I will send Tyrenkov along with him to board
Tunguska
and brief him more fully. Now this will be very interesting. I must convince
the crew here that I am him, and he must convince Bogrov and the men aboard
Tunguska
that he is me!

Hopefully
there will be no problems, but I’ve ordered Tyrenkov to take command of the air
squadron should the Captain do anything rash. It’s almost as if I have a little
brother now, just as I called him that when we met. He is very capable—lord
knows, he is me! But yet at this moment he is still green and untried. I must
bring him along slowly, which is why I’ve said nothing of the things
Tunguska
can really do, and nothing of what I’ve discovered at Ilanskiy.

Yet
think of it, think of it! I now control the only three ways anyone can move in
time! I have
Kirov, Tunguska,
and Ilanskiy, the master of all fate and
time here on this earth. I have power beyond the imagining of men like Sergei
Kirov and Adolf Hitler. Yes, the Führer may have his panzer divisions, but we
will soon smash them, along with his whole reeking Third Reich. And when this
is all over, what will I build here? What will I make of the new Russia I
liberate from Hitler’s steely grasp? And what will I do about Volkov?

In the
short run, it comes down to Orenburg and the Japanese, two enemies on either
side of the territory I now control. Kolchak will be dead within the week, or
so Tyrenkov has assured me. This means I must meet with all the Siberian
Generals in the Far East Command and select a new leader there—answerable to
me, of course.

“Officers
on board,” called the Bosun as he stepped out of the launch, taking a short
ladder down.

“Captain
on deck!” The man saluted, waiting with an expectant upward glance as though he
expected the Admiral to follow. Karpov saw him hesitate, and spoke.

“Admiral
Volsky has gone on an important mission to Moscow. Command of the ship now
falls to me.”

“Yes sir,”
said the Bosun.

“We are
also taking aboard a company of men from the garrison here. Direct them to the
aft deck when they arrive. There will be several trawlers.”

“Very
good, sir.”

“Has
Mister Fedorov returned?”

“No
sir, we thought he would arrive with you.”

“I will
wait here then. He should be on the next boat.”

The man
nodded, but it was clear he seemed uneasy. Karpov thought it might be the gauze
on his face, which he had re-applied to cover his scar. “Don’t worry about
this,” he said, gesturing to the bandage. “I fell in the yard and scratched my
cheek.”

“It’s
not that, sir. It’s the harbor. We can’t see much in this fog, but what we can
see looks… very different. Admiral Volsky ordered the crew below decks, and
it’s plain to see why. Where is the city, sir? Has something happened here? Is
it war like the men say?”

“I will
explain everything to the crew in due course,” said Karpov, grateful for the
fog. Even Mother Nature had been a willing member of his conspiracy.

He saw
the first trawler coming, and soon saw Tyrenkov standing tall on the forward
deck. The Bosun and his mate lowered a ladder down, and the men started to
climb, first Tyrenkov, followed by Fedorov and then a line of dark clad
soldiers. Twenty came in on this first boat, and Karpov took Tyrenkov aside,
giving him some final orders.

“We’ve
done it, Tyrenkov! I wish there were time for me to give you a little tour, but
this is the ship that brought me here, and if there was ever a moment of doubt
in your mind when I told you my sad tale, feeling the power beneath your feet
now should put that to rest.”

“Sir,”
said Tyrenkov. “I never doubted you.”

“Of
course not,” said Karpov. “As to my little brother… Get him safely aboard
Tunguska
,
and brief him well along the way. I want no slip-ups, so you will have to be at
his side at all times in the beginning. Report to me daily on the channel I
have given you. Take the airships up to the Kara Sea and wait for us there. We
will not be long.”

“This
may be somewhat delicate at the outset,” said Tyrenkov. “What if our people
were to see the two of you together?”

“That
will not happen for some time, and before it does, I’ll brief the men well,
starting with this security contingent. I called the Captain my brother, and
that angle might play for a while. After all, nobody knew much about me at all,
and they certainly didn’t know I had a twin brother. He smiled. “As for now,
only you know the real truth, Tyrenkov. I’m relying on you to be my right hand
until my little brother is up to speed. Treat him with the same respect you
would give to me, but let me know if there is any difficulty. I’m taking half
the company. I’ll leave you 60 men for
Tunguska
. Take good care of that
airship!”

“Rely
on me, sir.”

“Excellent.
A wonderful night, yes? Now then, let me go collar Mister Fedorov and get to
the bridge. I’ve been away a very long time, since 1908, in fact.” He smiled
again, turning to go look for his charge.