Winter Storm

by John Schettler

  “How will you get around that?”

  “I’ve already taken care of it. I just doctored a few files I had on my pad device. It will account for that little oversight on my part, but at that time, I was not aware of what had happened with Karpov. I’ve gone over and over everything I could remember saying or doing, looking for a loose shirttail. If he discovers I know all this…”

  The implication was very obvious to Zolkin.

  “Alright…” said the Doctor. “It seems I was your ally once in all of this, Mister Fedorov. You can count on me again, as God is my witness. You’ve told me what that man up there is capable of, no, you’ve told me what he’s actually done! My God! He used special warheads on the men of this era? Amazing! Well, you say that isn’t happening now, and things are different. The ship is taking a different course. Perhaps we can change all those things he did, Fedorov. If I understand what is happening now, this is a kind of replay of all those events you lived through, and it only happened because the ship somehow slipped to a time before the first moment of its coming.”

  “Yes, that’s how I understand it,” said Fedorov.

  “Well,” said Zolkin, a determined look on his face. “Then I want to do everything possible to see that I never have to write those damn autopsy reports…”

  Yes, thought Fedorov, the reports in that encrypted file. Somehow they had survived too, just like the evidence the British had uncovered in those file boxes at Bletchley Park. All of this is starting over again. They were now rewriting the history they had ravaged in their first coming. Those men might not have to die.

  “But the ship is heading east,” said Fedorov, greatly relieved to be through this with the Doctor, and to know he had gained his understanding and support. “We’re going to Vladivostok. Those were our orders after the live fire exercises, but it’s 1941 now, and I’ll tell you another impossible thing. The history here has changed.”

  He gave him that part of the story now, Stalin’s death, the rise of Sergei Kirov, his hunt for Orlov, and how that damn intelligence officer, Captain Ivan Volkov, must have followed his trail along the Trans-Siberian rail.

  “Lord almighty,” said Zolkin. “This all happened at the railway inn? What is the world coming to? You could move in time just by using that stairway?”

  “It has something to do with the time and place that stairway brought me to,” said Fedorov. “It has something to do with the Tunguska Event. I’ve come to think that impact did more than we realized. It fractured spacetime. In fact, it may have cause this instability in time that makes the ship prone to slip. That control rod I told you about? We later learned it had materials used in it that were mined very near the impact site at Tunguska.”

  “This gets even more twisted the longer we talk about it,” said Zolkin, exasperated.

  “Yes, there’s so much more I could tell you, but our immediate problem is this… Karpov is taking the ship east to Vladivostok, but Russia doesn’t control that port any longer. The Japanese took it from us years ago, during the time before the revolution, and possibly because of our own meddling in all of this history.”

  “The Japanese?”

  “Yes, and think now, Doctor. It is 1941, and in a few months it will be December of that year. What happened in the Pacific?”

  “Pearl Harbor,” said Zolkin darkly. “Japan will be entering the war soon.”

  “Exactly. So now do you see why I am worried about the course that man up there has set for this ship? Karpov was dead set on restoring Russia’s presence as a Pacific power. In fact, Admiral Volsky and I were trying to prevent his intervention, trying to preserve the history, but once a plate cracks, it is never really the same, no matter how much glue you use.”

  “So you think Karpov is planning something now—with the Japanese?

  “Most certainly. He said as much to me in my quarters earlier. I don’t know what he has in mind to do, but it was clear that he laid a very careful trap to get control of this ship again. He’s going to do something when we get out east, and I fear the Japanese are in for a big surprise.”

  Zolkin nodded, seeing the gravity in the situation now, and realizing Fedorov was trying to find a way to prevent Karpov from rewriting the history again.”

  “Then you believe he will attack the Japanese? Try to force them to relinquish control of Vladivostok by using the power of this ship?”

  “He was certainly on that same course before,” said Fedorov. “He’s asked me to study up on that history, and I think for no good reason. He’ll want to use my knowledge as a weapon against Japan.”

  “Yes,” said Zolkin. “Knowing what your enemy is going to do, even before he does it, is certainly an advantage.”

  “How can I stop him, Doctor? Before it came down to a real struggle for control of the ship. Sergeant Troyak and his Marines were enough to stop him the first time, but not before he set loose a special warhead. Then later, we had to come for him aboard the submarine Kazan to try and stop him. That’s another long story I’ll tell you later, but that time, it took the entire bridge crew standing up and refusing his orders, and you nearly paid with your life. Had Karpov’s aim been true…”

  “I understand,” said Zolkin. “Do you think we can find a few other allies here, Fedorov? Might we bring Sergeant Troyak in on what we know?”

  “That was going to be my next move, but have you seen those other men that came aboard at Kola Bay?”

  “I’ve certainly heard a good deal about them, and a big lout the crew call Grilikov.”

  “Karpov brought sixty security men aboard with him,” said Fedorov. “Grilikov leads that contingent.”

  “I see…” Zolkin folded his arms. “Mister Fedorov, God bless you for carrying all of this, and holding up as you have.” He put his hand on Fedorov’s shoulder. “But you’re not alone now. There’s two of us who know the real truth, and perhaps I may even recover my memory of these events. But one thing is certain, I’ll be at your right shoulder from this moment on.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. That is a great relief. Perhaps together we can find a way to stop this man, the Siberian, or at least answer that question.”

  “What question?”

  “It isn’t just a matter of how to stop him,” said Fedorov. “I must also decide whether I should even try. The Allies are losing this war, and now Japan will soon join the Axis. We could lose it all, Doctor. Germany, Italy, Orenburg and Japan could win this war…”

  Chapter 6

  Karpov was pacing, as he sometimes would do on the bridge of the ship, feeling restless and dispossessed. The Admiral’s stateroom aboard Tunguska was comfortable, with well appointed furnishings, a gas heater and stove, ornate samovar for tea, and a beautiful writing desk. When he saw these things he gave an instinctive nod of his head, realizing they would have been the very same things he would have collected in a stateroom, but now they gave him little comfort. All he could think of was the ship, Kirov, his command at sea now the province of his other self, another version of his very being, impossible but nonetheless there.

  Tyrenkov sat quietly in the chair opposite the Admiral’s desk, waiting to complete his briefing, but the Captain had been too restless to sit. Eventually, to press upon him the urgency of the moment, the intelligence Chief stood, his gloved hands clasped before him, still waiting.

  “Very well,” said Karpov, in that same impatient tone of voice Tyrenkov had become so familiar with. The acorn never fell very far from the tree, but which was the tree? This man before him was the root and stem of the Siberian, with every same potential, though all of it unrealized.

  “What is so important about Ilanskiy?” said Karpov. “I know the place in my day, an insignificant little railway town east of Kansk near the Naval Weapons Armory.”

  “I was instructed to leave that briefing to the Admiral, but to press upon you the importance of the place as our new fleet operations center and headquarters.”

  “Ilanskiy? Why there? It is far from the fro
nt lines.”

  “The Admiral will acquaint you with the reason for his decision to locate our operations center there. I was merely to convey that fact, and the Admiral’s directive that its defense and security is of paramount importance. The enemy has already mounted two airship raids on that location. They are very keen to control that place, and so the first priority of our fleet operations planning involves the defense of Ilanskiy.”

  “Very well,” said Karpov sullenly. “How many ships do I have?”

  “Six remain from our original fleet, including the fleet flagship, which we are presently standing on. Of these, three are permanently stationed at Kansk and Ilanskiy, Abakan, Angara, and Talmenka. These are considered heavy cruiser class airships, with eight guns, mostly 76mm recoilless rifles. This ship is much stronger, as you have seen.”

  That failed to impress the Captain, who rolled his eyes momentarily, before asking his next question. “The other two ships?”

  “They are east at Irkutsk, one ship by that name, and a second in the same class, Novosibirsk. These are twelve gun battlecruisers, as compared to Tunguska, which has sixteen guns, our only true battleship. And as you can see off our port side, we have just taken lend lease on two more battlecruiser class airships, from the Soviets, the Riga and Narva.”

  “And our enemies? What about this Orenburg Federation you’ve told me of?”

  “Their fleet was originally composed of twenty-four ships, but recent engagements have reduced it to sixteen. Our present intelligence indicates they have no new construction underway, while we will have one more ship in the Tunguska class available soon, to be named Baikal.”

  “Then they will still outnumber us sixteen to nine.”

  “That ratio will soon be addressed. Sergei Kirov has agreed to move his Black Sea Fleet airships north and cede them to our control.”

  “Big of him,” said Karpov. “Considering that it is our troops marching off to defend his capital now.”

  “Our capital,” Tyrenkov corrected him quietly. “The Admiral has instructed me to refer to Moscow in that manner, as he sees the eventual reunification of the Soviet Union to include all of Siberia and the Orenburg Federation after Volkov is defeated.”

  “Of course,” said Karpov, half attending to the briefing now, his mind seemingly lost in the clouds as he gazed out the port side window.

  “Three more airships will join us within the week,” Tyrenkov continued, the Odessa, Rostov, and Sevastopol. The addition of these five Soviet ships, along with our newly built Baikal, brings our fleet to eleven battle worthy units. And we will have an advantage in firepower, even though the enemy might still outnumber us, because many of their airships are in the smaller cruiser class. The three new arrivals are flying directly to Ilanskiy as we complete the expanded mooring tower facilities at Kansk. Riga and Narva will depart soon to bolster the Far Eastern Battle Squadron, which can also be quickly reinforced from Ilanskiy.”

  “Very well.” Karpov waited. “What else?”

  “Your land force in the west has presently been reduced to four rifle divisions. Three are still manning our fortified Ob river line east of Omsk, though the enemy has pulled all but two divisions from that sector for their operations against Volgograd. One division is now assigned as a permanent garrison at Ilanskiy, the 78th Siberian Rifles.”

  “Garrison? What for?”

  “Sir, the enemy airships can transport troops. I will brief you on the operations recently concluded, but they have the capability to repeat that if they so choose, and move the equivalent of a decent brigade sized formation by airships. A rifle division on defense is now deemed sufficient to hold Ilanskiy secure, and we do not anticipate any overland threat from the west. At the moment the principal concern of the Admiral is the Japanese.”

  “Yes, and he’s taking my ship to the Pacific to see about that.”

  “Our ship, sir,” came Tyrenkov’s subtle correction again. “The battlecruiser Kirov has now been designated the flagship of the Free Siberian Navy.”

  Karpov smiled. “I suppose you will tell me all about that now.”

  “Not much to speak of,” said Tyrenkov. “As you know, we have no real Pacific port of any size to accommodate a fleet, and no shipbuilding program or dry docks of any kind. But we do have three destroyers, five submarines, mostly lent to us from the Soviets. To there you can add several corvette class gunboats, coastal lighters, and a small merchant fleet operating in the Sea of Okhotsk out of Magadan.”

  Karpov shook his head. “I still cannot believe the Japanese have taken Vladivostok.”

  “That and much more, sir,” said Tyrenkov. “They control all of Primorskiy Province, southern Khabarovsk, and all of Amur Province. They have also occupied all of Sakhalin Island, and the Kuriles, as far as Kamchatka.”

  “They control that as well?”

  “They invaded southern Kamchatka six years ago, but do not have any significant military presence there now, perhaps only a few naval battalions at Petropavlovsk, as they perceive us powerless to do anything much about their presence there, having no navy, and with land communications so forbidding in Koryak Province to the north. That may change with the outbreak of war. My intelligence indicates the Japanese have a plan to move against the Aleutians. In this case, we may see a reinforcement of their facility at Petropavlovsk.”

  “Then we would be wise to move before they do,” said Karpov, his mind slowly warming up to the strategic situation in the far east. Do we have troops out there?”

  “Twelve divisions, mostly in the vicinity of Irkutsk and Baikal, to keep an eye on the Japanese Kwantung Army. They’ve shown no inclination to push farther into our territory, and frankly, I do not think they will at this point. Kolchak was a fairly experienced naval commander, but not much on land. Thankfully, we have good generals there to mind those affairs, and you should know that these men will now answer to the Admiral, and by extension, to you.”

  “To me? What about Kolchak?”

  “He was eliminated.” Tyrenkov’s statement was as cold and heartless as the operation that ended Kolchak’s life. A simple hunting accident, or so it seemed, and so it was reported. Yet Vladimir Karpov was now named the head of the Free Siberian State, and, as he listened to Tyrenkov’s briefing, the Captain’s inner vanity and sense of self aggrandizement quickly embraced the notion that he was now much more than he once was, even though he stood in the shadow of his elder self.

  “We must not underestimate the Japanese,” said Tyrenkov, qualifying his remarks. “Their Kwantung Group is still the largest and most prestigious Command in their entire army. General Tojo, the present Japanese Prime Minister, was once its Chief of Staff. During his tenure there, he increased Japanese penetration into Mongolia, and beefed up their presence near Lake Baikal. That army is presently commanded by General Yoshijiro Umezu, and his Chief of Staff is presently General Heitaro Kimura. It was he who led the Siberian intervention in 1918 to greatly expand Japanese occupation of our former territory. Now what was known as the Hokushin-rin, or ‘Northern Advance’ by the Japanese into Siberia, has been largely realized. It is my assessment that they will take a defensive posture, and concentrate their efforts in the South Pacific.”

  “How many divisions do they have?” Karpov cut to the quick, the kind of curt question Stalin might have asked, for in his mind that was all things came down to.

  “Fourteen divisions, organized in a number of small armies, and two brigade sized armored formations, with numerous smaller supporting units.”

  “Then we match them?”

  “On paper, but their provision in artillery, armor, mobile units and air power greatly overshadows our Far East Command. We have been in defensive positions for the last decade. Oh, there was an engagement at Khalin Gol, but that was not much of anything, and it’s clear who now hold that ground. We’d like to see it a victory, but in reality, it is their army on our turf now, and not the other way around.”

  “They have airships like ou
rs?”

  “No sir, they never extended that technology as we have. Their Kwantung Air Corps is nonetheless very powerful. We cannot match them in the air, by any means. Yet our airships are remarkably resilient to small arms fire. It will take a significant cannon to seriously bother one, at least 37mm or better. Otherwise, their present inventory of aircraft can annoy us, cause casualties, attack the gondolas and engines, which have only light armor. But we can out climb them, and mostly out gun them and make them pay a dear price for attacking us. They usually confine their air operations to ground support and reconnaissance.”

  “That will change soon,” said Karpov. “They have a very well trained naval aviation corps. I will have to speak with… my brother, to plan our strategy soon.”

  “I’m sure he is eager for that as well, sir.”

  Karpov offered a thin smile. “Tyrenkov… The other men here. How will this be explained?”

  “At the moment, they have been told nothing. In fact, they believe you are their commanding Admiral. And why should they think otherwise? In time, I believe it is the Admiral’s intention to present you as an identical twin brother, which is not very far from the truth, I suppose.”

  The telephone on the desk rang, and Tyrenkov walked briskly to answer it. “Yes? Very well, I will inform the Admiral.” He set the receiver in its cradle, and smiled. “Our Air Commandant Bogrov has reported the ship is in sight. We will be making our close approach within thirty minutes.”

  Karpov seemed very glad for the news, taking in a deep breath and straightening his jacket. Kirov would soon be in sight again, beneath him, its tall battlements and radar domes gleaming in the wan sun. He went to the cabin window, smiling to see the telltale white wake of a warship ahead, and wishing he was back aboard.

  “I suppose this is somewhat difficult for you,” said Tyrenkov.