9 Days Falling, Volume I k-5

by John A. Schettler

  “Oh? No I was not informed. They no longer tell me everything now that I’m retired, nor do I have room for very much more in this weary old head of mine. What are you are thinking about this eruption?”

  “It was enormous,” said Volsky. “Probably a thousand times bigger than our Tsar Bomba. You have just told me such events can cause time displacement. My fleet is missing, and for an Admiral that is a very disheartening thing. I was thinking, perhaps…”

  “I see,” said Kamenski. “I suppose we will just have to wait and see what we find out. Yes, Mother Nature can throw fits of her own that make our own efforts seem puny. We have thought of this, of course, and that is why most active volcanic sites are monitored very carefully. Thus far the eruptions we have investigated have not produced these effects. These eruptions do not involve nuclear fission. Something about that seems to be a very sharp knife when it comes to the fabric of space-time. Volcanic eruptions release much more energy, but it is geothermic, not nuclear. Though I will qualify that by saying that we’ve seen nothing on this scale since Mt. Tambora erupted in 1815. Perhaps the size of the eruption in the Kuriles will make some difference here.”

  Volsky nodded, his eyes dark with both sadness and fatigue. It was an hour past midnight, and then there came a soft knock on the outer door.

  “Excuse me gentlemen,” said the Admiral as he rose. He walked slowly over and spoke through the closed door. “Yes, what is it?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” came a muffled voice on the other side of the door. “A courier has arrived from Vladivostok.”

  At this Volsky raised an eyebrow, opening the door to see a young lieutenant of Marines coming smartly to attention. He knew the man had come directly from the Naval Logistics Building as ordered. They were posted there on a special security detail and ordered to check the contents of Fedorov’s storage bin every night at midnight. If anything was found it was to be immediately taken to the Admiral at Naval Headquarters Fokino. The Lieutenant saluted, then handed the Admiral an envelope, saluting again.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. You may return to your duties.” The Admiral closed the door, eying the envelope with great curiosity. Then he turned it over to the front side and his heart leapt. There, emblazoned on the envelope, was the crest of the Russian Naval insignia! He recognized the envelope immediately! Kamenski watched, noting how the Admiral’s hand seemed unsteady as he thumbed the envelope open.

  “Some unexpected news?” he ventured, suddenly curious.

  “Very unexpected!” Volsky read the note, his dark eyes suddenly alight with inner fire and barely contained excitement. “I had better sit down,” he said, lowering himself heavily into his chair. “The news I’ve been waiting for concerning the fleet,” he said with a smile. “Only now I do not know whether I should laugh or cry about it.” He handed the note slowly to Kamenski, who took it eagerly and read it silently.

  “I don’t understand. This came by mail?”

  “It was retrieved from the same storage locker your Mister Volkov meddled with. I’ve had guards there ever since.”

  “Well, this is most interesting!” Kamenski wasted no time reading the note. “And I suppose it also answers your question Admiral, more than one question, it seems. Geothermal energy can do more than we thought, but it appears to take an enormous event like that eruption to produce the effect.”

  “It does, indeed,” said Volsky. “And it raises quite another conundrum in the process.”

  Kapustin had been listening, craning his neck and squinting to see the note, though he could not make it out. “What are you talking about?” he said with some frustration.

  “Forgive me, Gerasim,” said Kamenski. “May I, Admiral?”

  Volsky nodded and Kamenski handed the note to the Inspector, who read it quickly, his face registering great surprise. He handed the note slowly back to the Admiral.

  “What does this mean? Has it happened again?”

  “It appears so,” said Volsky. “That letter was written by our Mister Karpov. I recognize the handwriting. I’ve seen him sign off on a hundred duty boards in the months I was on that ship. My God…It has happened again. The only question now is what to do about it. He’s sailed in towards Vladivostok to see if he could determine where he was—in time, I suppose.”

  “A wise decision,” said Kamenski.

  “Yes, but also dangerous. We discussed this at length aboard Kirov. Our consensus was that the technology we possessed should never be allowed to fall into the hands of any nation state in the past.”

  “Wise again,” Kamenski nodded.

  “Yet I wonder…” Volsky thought for a moment. “I told you that Karpov was of a different mind on how we should act in the beginning, but I never shared all the details on that. Suffice it to say that the Captain was somewhat determined to make what he called a decisive intervention in the history of those years—the last war. He has since come round to our way of thinking on the matter, or so I came to believe. Yet now he is there with the world’s most powerful fighting ship beneath his feet again—not just one ship this time. He has three!” Volsky read from the note again, “I am here with Kirov, Orlan, and Admiral Golovko. No sign of Varyag or the other ships from the outer screen. Our presence as yet remains unknown, but that may change. I have crept into the Sea of Okhotsk and we put men ashore with a good lock pick to deliver this note. I hope you receive it…But Admiral…How will we ever get back?”

  “That note was dated August, 1945,” said Kamenski.

  “Yes,” said Volsky. “Why the 1940s? We could never understand that. Why not ancient times, or the 1920s, or any other time for that matter?”

  “Affinity,” said Kamenski. “That’s what our scientists on the job tell me. Things have an affinity for a certain time—particularly if they have displaced there once before. We did many experiments during those years of active nuclear testing. We learned a very great deal.”

  “Yes, well now this complicates everything,” said Volsky. “We were worried about leaving one single man behind—Orlov. And then I was worried about the risk of sending three men back after him. Now it’s three ships I have to worry about!” He shook his head, clearly flustered. “How do I answer that last question? How in the world do they get back?”

  “Perhaps they will return on their own,” suggested Kamenski. “It’s happened before, just like those technicians who witnessed Tsar Bomba. They had no Rod-25 in their back pocket, yet they showed up again in our time twelve days after they disappeared.”

  “How is that possible?” asked Volsky. “Have the technicians discovered that yet?”

  “Not entirely,” said Kamenski. “Perhaps time just throws back the little fish, though she has thrown back some very the big fish as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That incident in the North Atlantic, Admiral. You told me that Kirov was heavily engaged by the combined British and American fleets. That was what prompted your Captain Karpov to take stronger measures, yes?”

  “Regrettably,” said Volsky. “And he has come to see it that way as well, or so I believe.”

  “Nonetheless…you thought the ship displaced forward again as a result of that detonation, not knowing that this Rod-25 was the real villain. But I can share another little secret with you, Admiral. When your ship vanished it was not alone.”

  “Not alone?”

  “You said there was a group of American destroyers involved in a gunfight with you—at fairly close range—am I correct?”

  “Yes, that is so. Karpov was engaging them, and sunk several ships with our deck guns.”

  “Well I’ve done a little digging on that engagement over the years. It seems that particular group was called Desron 7, an American destroyer flotilla. It vanished that same day Kirov disappeared. The crew claims they returned to their base at Argentia Bay and found the place obliterated.”

  “My God!” Volsky was truly surprised now. “They saw the same future we did, then—the years a
fter this damn war we’re so eager to fight.”

  “I see,” said Kamenski. “Yes, that makes sense now, considering all you have told me. Apparently this new war of our ends quite badly, for all concerned. But the interesting thing about this incident was that the ships suddenly reappeared, twelve days after they were reported missing.”

  “But how?” Volsky had a blank expression on his face now. “We used Rod-25, albeit unknowingly, but by that time we were thousands of miles away in the Med when we reappeared. That could not have affected those American destroyers. Could it?”

  “I would think not. They initially shifted simply because of their close proximity to Kirov when it was displaced. Proximity seems to matter when these effects are considered. Our people gave this considerable thought. We don’t really know why it happens yet, but they have simply come round to the belief that certain things have an affinity for a given time. Those destroyers moved forward as your ship did, then fell back into their own time again. They tell me it has something to do with string theory and strange vibrations.” Kamenski waved his hand. “I don’t understand any of that either, Admiral.”

  “How did you learn of this Desron 7?”

  “The usual methods. The Americans tried to cover it all up, of course. They didn’t believe the story their own sailors told them, any more than the crew of the cruiser Tone were believed when they returned to Truk with other wild stories of a phantom ship at sea. It’s enough to drive a sane man mad—and that was the case for a good number on that ship. I followed it very closely over the years. Well, to make a long story short, the British clued the Americans in on things, and after they got the bomb they decided to see if they could duplicate the time displacement effect with a nuclear detonation. That’s why they dragged all those ships out to Bikini Atoll and blasted them to hell—not to test the effects of the blast or assess damage on the ships, but to see if anything displaced in time, and to judge the radius of any possible effects. Do you understand now why everyone is so determined to restrict the spread of nuclear weapons? Their destructive power is one thing, but these odd effects are quite another.”

  Volsky appeared dumbfounded. “To think that this has been going on these years… Well, Mister Kamenski, do you think it will happen again like that? Will Karpov and his ships simply return to this time like the American destroyers?”

  “They may…then again they may not. Who can say for sure? I will say one thing, however. We can fetch them home again by other means if necessary, and I think we should make plans to consider that possibility at once.”

  “By other means?” Kapustin had been following all this closely.

  “With one of those control rods you have tucked away at Shkotovo-16.”

  “Yes!” Volsky had new life now. “I know just what we can do! My engineer Dobrynin is in the Caspian right now preparing the rescue mission for Fedorov. If this other control rod has the same effect as Rod-25, then we could send it back with him—for Kirov and the other ships. We could get the control rod from Severomorsk as well, if need be. If Orlan is with Kirov that ship has the new naval propulsion reactor too.”

  “If I understand your plan, Admiral, this Dobrynin is aboard the Anatoly Alexandrov in the Caspian Sea with Rod-25? But how can you be certain it will reach the same timeframe in the past as Fedorov?”

  “Rod-25 has been very faithful. It seems to have an affinity, to use your term. It sends things seventy-nine years into the past—very exact.”

  “Well that won’t do us very much good. If my math is correct that will send your engineer and the Anatoly Alexandrov back to the Caspian region of 1942, but your fleet is in 1945 according to this letter, and 6500 kilometers to the east in the Sea of Okhotsk! Dobrynin’s people will have both a very long journey east with this new control rod, through Soviet Russia, and a very long wait when they get there—if they get there.”

  “We would have to risk that,” Volsky insisted.

  “But how would you do this—from Baku to Vladivostok?”

  “There is no way it could be done overland. It would have to be flown, but we can’t very well take a large plane back with us when Anatoly Alexandrov tries this little experiment. Yet we could land a big helicopter on the roof of the Alexandrov, and it would most likely shift back as well. Yes…” Volsky was feeling his way through the scenario, thinking and planning.

  “It would have to be a helicopter,” he said definitively. “There is no other way. Our best choice would be the Mi-26, but even that has a maximum range of about 2000 kilometers on internal fuel. As you said, we’re talking about a journey of 6500 kilometers from Vladivostok to Baku. The helo would have to use most of its cargo space for additional fuel, but it could be done. In fact, we could use the Mi-26TZ. That model was modified to create an airborne fuel tanker with an additional 14,000 liters of fuel in four internal tanks. We could rig four more and carry up to 28,000 liters on our newest model. Add that to the internal fuel and we should have enough to get to the east coast.”

  “But barely enough,” said Kamenski doing some quick math.

  “Once they reach the coast we can contact Kirov via radio and arrange a rendezvous.”

  “After waiting three long years,” said Kamenski. “What if something happens to the ship before you can make contact?”

  “We’ll be there waiting when the ship arrives if all goes well.”

  Kamenski raised an eyebrow. “Yes… I suppose that’s true.”

  “But one moment please,” Kapustin spoke up, a confused look on his face. “You say Karpov sent this note by sending men to the naval Logistics Building in Vladivostok. Yes? Then it is clear your helicopter was not waiting there when the ship appeared in 1945, or at least that they failed to make contact. Am I correct in this? Does this mean this mission is doomed to fail?”

  Kamenski listened, deep in thought. “Very astute, Gerasim! But Karpov must send his note to make the prospect of this mission possible. Otherwise how would we know where he was and dream this up? It’s very confusing, but perhaps the instant Karpov sent that letter everything changed. It doesn’t sound like much, but it may have been enough to alter the entire line of causality and permit us this opportunity. Who knows for sure? Well have to let Mother Time sort it all out.”

  “I wish Fedorov were here,” said Volsky. “He would figure all this out.”

  “Well, I will agree with you, Admiral. This appears to be the only way we can solve the problem if Karpov and his ships don’t get home sick and return on their own. The shepherd will have to find his lost sheep! That said, waiting almost three years on the east coast will not be without risks. The Japanese had troops on the Kuriles until very late in the war. You would have to find a very isolated place, safe from discovery. Probably on Sakhalin Island, high up in the mountains. That’s a long time to hold out. There’s the question of food, water, and if I am not mistaken you are using the entire lift capacity of that helicopter just for fuel. Men need to eat.”

  “They would have to secure those supplies en-route somehow,” said Volsky. “As an alternative we could take less fuel, put some fighting men on that helo, and secure a small airfield to obtain fuel en-route. It won’t be top grade aviation fuel, but it would work.”

  “Very risky,” said Kamenski. “No, I think you had best try to make it in one quick run, and with the bare minimum crew required. The fewer people we leave wandering about in the 1940s, the better. Your Mister Fedorov would certainly agree, yes? Also realize that if this mission fails we will lose those two control rods forever. That may mean nothing, however. We don’t know if these other control rods will even work! They may produce no effects at all.”

  “Oh, I believe they will,” said Kapustin.

  Kamenski regarded his old friend with surprise. “What makes you so confident in that, Gerasim?”

  “Because I told you, I know everything there is to know about these control rods, where they were manufactured, where they were shipped and stored, and one thing more—wh
ere the materials used in their manufacture came from…” He let that dangle, a teasing look in his eyes. Now it was his turn to reach in his pocket and pull out the missing piece of the puzzle again, and he took great satisfaction as both Kamenski and Admiral Volsky gave him their full attention.

  “This is going to be very interesting,” he said, folding his arms with a smile.

  Part XI

  Regression

  “The time where we are most likely to change is when we are at the edge of the abyss. The moment of our darkest fears, that time each of us must face, is also the instant of our most brilliant clarity.”

  ~ Kathy Bell, Regression

  Chapter 31

  “Signal all fleet units to report present status,” Karpov stared at the big Plexiglas screen denoting fleet asset positions, greatly disheartened. The fleet had been rigged for nuclear, biological and chemical warfare conditions, with all hatches battened down, air filters engaged and key personnel on exposed decks outfitted in environmental suits and rebreathers. The first eruption was significant, and commanded their immediate attention, the heat of the air duel further east suddenly seeming insignificant in the face of such awesome natural power.

  They had weathered the first shock wave, and some time later a thirty foot tsunami wave rolled the ship heavily, but caused no further damage. Then came the real explosion from the distant Demon on the islands to their north, one that would place it in the record books a notch above the 1815 eruption of Tambora, and the ship took another violent shockwave so intense that Kirov listed fifteen degrees to starboard.

  The entire region was soon embroiled in a thick black cloud of pale yellow ash and silt. The falling ash soon become so dense that the morning sun was blotted out and the skies became murky gray deepening to charcoal black in places. The noise of the explosion had abated, but the skies were now scored by lightning and the rumble of thunder. A strong smell of sulfur came with the falling ash, and they encountered squalls of slurry rain. An intense hush seemed to settle over the sea, broken only by the ripple of distant thunder, as if all other sounds had been smothered by the ash fall. Visibility was near zero, their instruments were hopelessly obscured as well.