Saying nothing, Doctorov grunted as he reached to open his brief, extracting a plain folder harboring the document he had referenced. “You will note this document is bearing the seal of the office of the General Secretariat of the Federation of Orenburg, and the signature is authentic, of that I can assure you. I witnessed it myself.” He extended it to Tyrenkov, who sat, motionless, arms folded over his butcher’s apron, complete with typical stains to add authenticity. Eventually Doctorov placed the folder on the table.
“I am empowered to discuss the contents of this document, if you so desire, but if you are not inclined to either accept it, or review it here, I was told to wait 48 hours before departing—though I hope you might arrange for quarters that are just a little more comfortable in that interval.”
Tyrenkov leaned back, head inclined, his eyes like blue ice beneath his dark hair. “Now what would a document signed by the General Secretary have to say?” he said. “Is it another threat? Another demand? That is all that has come our way in the last year, though we note that not one of those threats was ever realized, nor did we accede to any demands made of us, as you must certainly know. What makes this one any different?”
“You have it all wrong,” said Doctorov. “No demands are made here, nor do I come here to make threats. Your brief perusal of that document will make this immediately clear.”
Tyrenkov reached slowly and took up the folder. “I should take this and throw it in that barrel fire across the room,” he said coldly. “After that, I should have you dragged upstairs to the butchery and cut into small pieces to feed the pigs. Do not think you have the benefit of any diplomatic cloak here. You, and everyone else who is a part of your Orenburg Federation, are considered enemies of the Free Siberian State.”
“Of course, of course,” said Doctorov. “Yet things change, Mister Tyrenkov. Things change. If my horrid death in the manner you describe would satisfy you, at least let me finish this cup of tea before you sharpen your knives. Within that folder you will find a sincere overture for peace. You may roll it up, place it between the teeth of my severed head, and send it back to Ivan Volkov if you wish, and then our little war will carry on. If, however, you might see the possibility of some positive direction in our relations, then give that document careful consideration.”
“I forgot just how good you are at calling another man’s bluff,” said Tyrenkov, but he had no further questions, nor did he make any further threat concerning the wellbeing of the would be Ambassador. He took the folder and stood up. “A truck will be waiting outside the packing facility. My men will provide you with the appropriate garb, and then you will be taken to a safe house where you may take some rest. After all, we are not barbarians here, even if I have to sound like one from time to time. You will be brought here, as if employed, at six AM tomorrow morning on that same truck. If there is any interest in the content of this folder, you will be informed at that time. Good day, Mister Doctorov.”
Meeting later with Karpov at another safe house, Tyrenkov discussed the unexpected overture from Orenburg.
“My,” said Karpov. “This was the last thing I ever expected out of Volkov. There must be something behind it. Do you think those unusual troop movements you reported could be spooking our old nemesis?”
“We may have underestimated those reports,” said Tyrenkov. “Just to be thorough, I looked over the latest, and there seems to be something afoot. The Germans ordered the Grossdeutschland Division into the Kuban three days ago. It is now north of Kropotkin on the big bend in the river Kuban. That is one of their most elite formations, and most powerful.”
“Has it been committed to combat?”
“Not yet, but it seems that it sent an equally powerful message to Volkov. He has been shipping in all the reserve divisions and mechanized elements of his 3rd Army—from Astrakhan to the lower Kuban. And what is more, several divisions of his 7th Army have also been given orders to move by rail south, and now we know they are not going to stop at Volgograd. The 7th Mech, an armored brigade, and cavalry regiment moved on through Astrakhan.”
“Something is clearly going on,” said Karpov. “Your thoughts on this, Tyrenkov?”
“Control of the Kuban. Hitler’s latest directive stated that Germany would henceforth retain control of all territories liberated by its own troops. They have just liberated the Kuban, and now the fighting there has reached Krasnodar and beyond. The two panzer divisions they committed have crossed the river to the west of the city, and there have been landings on the Taman Peninsula from the Crimea, and from Maripol. The Soviets tried to interfere with their Black Sea Fleet, but it was largely destroyed by Raeder’s task force. The Germans now control the Black Sea and Sea of Azov.”
“And Volkov is getting nervous,” said Karpov. “He wanted the Kuban back, and now Hitler won’t give it to him. Most interesting. And here we get this little peace overture as day follows night in that man’s mind.”
“Should we entertain it any further?” asked Tyrenkov.
Karpov thought about that, and decided they should. “They propose a cease fire and demilitarization of our mutual borders,” he said. “They offer cooperation on the shipment of oil and other needed resources to Siberian territory, and make the startling suggestion that our two nations should cooperate in the development of military arms.”
“He needs tanks,” said Tyrenkov. “His own designs have not been successful, except the T-44. Yet he has not been able to ramp up production on that tank. And his air force continues to languish. There has not even been any further airship production on their side for the last six months.”
“They still have the edge on us in numbers, even with Baikal and Siberian added to the fleet,” said Karpov.
“Strange that he should come to us this way,” said Tyrenkov. “Over 70 percent of his total armed forces are deployed against Sergei Kirov.”
“Tyrenkov, do you think he may be making a similar proposal to the Soviets?” Karpov shifted in his chair.
“Thus far, my network has not picked anything of that nature up. But considering the trouble they went to in order to keep this meeting secret, that is not surprising. We’re watching key Soviet officials who might typically respond to such a proposal. If they make any unusual movements, it may tip us off.”
“The secrecy doesn’t surprise me,” said Karpov. “They certainly would not want the Germans to know about this little proposal, and they took a great risk in even going this far with it here. If Hitler learns about this, Volkov may have the devil to pay—and quite literally.”
“What should we do, sir? Shall I open further discussion with Doctorov, or send the man home?”
Karpov smiled. Then he gave Tyrenkov a respectful look. “Tyrenkov… Thank you for coming to me with this.”
“Sir? Who else would I take this to?”
“My brother. You could have gone directly to him for any discussion or decision on this matter, but instead you came to me. Perhaps that was more convenient, as my brother is out to sea, but it is nonetheless appreciated. In fact, I am grateful for the respect you have always shown me, and your flawless efficiency. Have you also informed my brother of this?”
“No sir. You are acting head of the Free Siberian State. If your elder self needed to be informed, it was my assumption that you would make this decision yourself.”
Karpov took a deep breath, feeling very gratified. “I think we’ll have a further chat with Doctorov—only here. Our theater with the meat packing dungeon has had its effect. Bring him here, Tyrenkov. Let’s get to the bottom of this. Then I will take it to my brother and see that he is properly informed.”
* * *
The Siberian would eventually learn of the proposal, or rather he would have what he felt to be an inner hunch confirmed when Nikolin received a coded message about it later on. It was something that he could feel in his bones, some sea change in the winds of war that promised either terrible disaster, or a great windfall for his cause in arms. It was as
if he instinctively could feel, and know, all the things his brother self was privy too, even though he was separated from him by thousands of miles. That strange connection would continue to deepen over time, but for now, he experienced it as an inner muse, a subtle feeling emerging from his unconscious mind, a hunch.
Something was happening, and his thinking about the war, and all their aims here was also caught up in the same inner shift of that wind. As he often did when considering such things, he would eventually seek out the one man that had been a consistent sounding board for him—Anton Fedorov.
Part XII
Quantum Karma
“QUANTUM KARMA – The influence of causality on a Time Meridian. Each moment on the Meridian affects the next with a kind of momentum, and certain Prime Movers accumulate an aura of Quantum Karma around them that also has profound effects on the configuration of future moments in Time.”
— Dr. Paul Dorland, PhD – On a Theory of Time
Chapter 34
“Con —Sonar—Sonobuoy in the water! I have active pinging.”
Gromyko reacted immediately. “Come right 15 degrees, 20 degree down bubble. Make your speed 12 knots. Make your depth 1200. We’re going deep.”
Kazan had been sprinting again at 35 knots, still looking for those carriers. Gromyko had been tempted to turn and try and close the range on the contacts behind him, naturally curious as to what they might be. Instead he decided to sprint one more time, giving Chernov another chance to listen fifteen minutes later. He refreshed his reading on that destroyer, still edgy about it, but not inclined to go to an active missile attack until he knew where the carriers were.
But he would not be satisfied that day. Admiral Kita had made a course and speed change an hour earlier, and was now over 30 nautical miles away. Kurama and Omi had also turned, the entire force thinking to rendezvous near the sinking site of Takami . Then came the sonobuoy, and Gromyko took Kazan deep, slowing to 5 knots, and then hovering in the dark cold stillness of the sea, very near the bottom.
Kita had been very wary, knowing that the Russian sub was out there somewhere. He had no contacts, but decided to act as though he did. He sent a message to Takao to have her helo drop three sonobuoys, and make them active. To any sub driver in the business, that was a strong and clear signal that he had been made. So Gromyko did the logical thing, going deep, hovering , becoming nothing and nowhere in the sea.
Kita’s move was a bluff, but it worked. Those three sonobuoys pinged away for an hour, and all the while Kaga and Akagi were steaming at 24 knots, opening the range to nearly 55 nautical miles as they slipped away, Takao still following as a screening unit. Kita’s task force would reach the rescue site, his Marines looking over some flotsam to see if anything vital might be recoverable.
After that long hour, Gromyko decided to creep away to the east, moving at a stealthy 5 knots for the next 30 minutes. The sound of the sonobuoys continued to diminish and fade, and finally Chernov looked at the Captain and spoke.
“Sir… I don’t think they have us. If they did, there would have been some response to this move. Those buoys are still back near our previous position. I think they were fishing, sir.”
Gromyko smiled. Perhaps they never did have us, he thought. Someone out there is very cagey. He knew I was out here, and perhaps they picked up a whisper of my trail on one of the high speed sprints. So he popped off those sonobuoys to make it seem as though they were prosecuting a contact. Very clever. I think my quarry has given me the slip this time.
“What was the last course and speed we had on that destroyer?”
“220 at 24 knots.”
Gromyko looked at his chart. Then he glanced up at Belanov. “Karpov reported the three destroyers chasing him broke off hours ago and turned northeast. Our last reading on this one had it running southwest. I think they’re making a rendezvous.”
‘Where, sir?” Belanov stepped over to the chart table.
“Here,” Gromyko pointed. “Right where we sunk Takami .”
“A good assumption,” said Belanov.
“Yes, Momma Bear has called home all her cubs. So what are we looking at here? That means there are at least four destroyers, and we also had those two other contacts trailing behind that we never investigated.”
“What do you figure them to be, the carriers?”
“Possibly, but now I’m thinking the carriers must have been off on 240 when we went deep, and I think we were very close. Then they played their bluff, and I knuckled under. Considering things now, what else would we typically see in a task force of this size, particularly one this far from Japanese home waters?” Gromyko was reasoning the situation out, his long years of experience at sea informing him where his sensors had failed to do the job.
“Replenishment,” said Belanov.
“Exactly. I think those last two contacts were most likely a replenishment ship, and possibly one more destroyer in escort. So let’s fill out the dance card here. Karpov reported he was attacked by strike planes, and from his last message, they got in close enough to deliver a glide bomb attack. What do you make of that?”
“Quite surprising. Japanese carriers are usually packing helos.”
“Right, but not this time. Strike range on glide bomb ordnance is around 45 miles. If they got planes in that close to Kirov , then they had to be F-35’s. But from what I know, the Japanese didn’t have very many of those, and the few they did have active were down on Okinawa at Naha or Kadena. So how do we get a task force like this way out here, and with F-35’s?”
“How do we get them here in 1943, sir?” Belanov brought them back to the moment, and Gromyko nodded.
“That nice little control rod Kamenski gave us accounts for our presence here—but the Japanese?”
“We’ll never figure that one out, sir. They’re here, and that’s all that matters. So what’s our play?”
“Let’s figure this from the other fellow’s side of the fence,” said Gromyko. “Somehow they shifted here, and right into the middle of our little conference with Fedorov and Karpov—uninvited guests. They obviously rendezvoused with Takami , another ship that appeared here under mysterious circumstances, and I don’t think any of them had control rods from Kamenski.”
“Very strange,” said Belanov. “Takami has been here for a good long while. This wasn’t the first time they tangled with Karpov.”
“Right,” said Gromyko. “Well, they called in some reinforcements.”
“Called them in? You figure they have some way of communicating with the future?”
“I was speaking metaphorically. But considering that, wouldn’t these events become … history? Wouldn’t the men and women in the future this time line gives rise to eventually know about what happened with Kirov and Takami?”
“That’s a lot of speculation, sir.” Belanov did not have the mental hiking shoes to wander down that path. “It’s a bit eerie to think they’re reading us like a book in 2021 and then sending back reinforcements to deal with us—with Karpov. I don’t suppose they would have known about Kazan .”
“They do now,” said Gromyko.
“Alright, but how did they get here, sir?”
“We got here. Perhaps they developed some means to follow us. Who knows? Then again, their presence here could be an accident. Kirov’s initial shift happened because of that detonation aboard Orel . We also know that Karpov and some of his flotilla shifted when that Demon volcano erupted.”
“Trying to sort through all the cards in the deck, Mister Gromyko?” Admiral Volsky had been resting, but feeling the boat move, he now returned to the bridge, approaching the two men where they huddled near the charts.
“Yes sir,” said the Captain. “Just trying to think things through. We were wondering how this welcoming committee got here. The way we figure it, they have at least one carrier, and with F-35’s. Throw in four or five destroyers and a replenishment ship, and this is one nice fat task force, way out here east of Ponape. That’s damn
strange, sir. So we were wondering how they got here, and whether it was a willful shift, or an accident.”
“Could be a little of both,” said Volsky. “Mister Fedorov told me that he thinks Takami first appeared in the Sunda Strait, very near where that big volcano erupted.”
“That never happened in any history book I’ve read,” said Gromyko.
“A lot of things never happened, and Kirov is to blame for that—no, let me tell it truly—I am to blame. From the moment I gave the order to shoot down that first plane, we’ve had our paw in the beehive here. For a while, the honey was sweet, but our meddling has caused all these things to happen that never were—ships prowling the seas here that never were supposed to exist, and all this history skewed beyond recognition. I’ve already lived and vanished on one meridian—and died on another, if you can believe that. Yes, all those memories are right up here.” He pointed to his head.
“And the oddest thing about it all is that I have another Admiral Volsky in there too, behind all the others. He was just minding his own business at Severomorsk, when all of the sudden he wakes up here, aboard Kazan , and with a head full of all these insane memories. Frankly, there are times I still pinch myself, thinking he will wake up again, sleeping quietly in his office at Severomorsk, and with all this nothing more than a bad dream.”
“Well, this bad dream fires torpedoes.” Gromyko smiled. “On that note, our quarry seems to have given us the slip. We think they have eased off to the southwest to rendezvous near the rescue site for Takami . But they know we’re out here, sir. How should we proceed?”
“Any position update from Karpov?”
“Yes sir. He’s broken off and is heading south towards Rabaul.”
“That is a big Japanese naval-air base, is it not?”
“Yes sir, their main base supporting operations in the Solomons.”
Volsky shook his head. “Now what would that man be doing down there? Something tells me he hasn’t quite given up with his little crusade here.”
Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29) Page 30