“Yet you beat Tanner and that American Carrier task force,” said Fedorov.
“Yes, but I had fighters off the Admiral Kuznetsov , five other ships, and strong support from our land based bombers, not to mention three good missile boats under the sea, including Kazan . That’s how I beat Tanner, and I also had that massive eruption cloud to force him to divert his strike waves.”
It was clear to Fedorov that Karpov was now telling him they could just as easily lose the next fight with the Japanese. If that happened, that task force would remain here in 1943, and how long would it be before they began to intervene in the battles now underway?
“You told me we were going about this the wrong way,” he said. “But you haven’t explained that.”
Karpov opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a Japanese fan, opening it. “Something I picked up in Vladivostok,” he said. “I actually had it with me on Tunguska , and had it shipped aboard here with my sea chest—just a little souvenir from that time.”
“What time?”
“1908.” Karpov smiled. “Look at this another way, Fedorov.” He touched the base of his open fan. “Here is that time—1908. We both know that it all started there, with the Tunguska event. Then all these segments of the fan are the future that event gave rise to. Look how they fan out in all directions. We’re on one of them, this particular Meridian, and probably right about here.” He fingered a mid-point on one of the fan segments. “And way out here at the top edge, let’s say that is 2021. See how the trouble fans out, getting wider and more pronounced as the change initiated in 1908 migrates forward in time?”
“Yes,” said Fedorov. “A very good analogy.”
“Well were here in the middle of this fan and trying to fold it closed again, so we can get rid of the Japanese, and Volkov, and everything else we discussed. Just as we swat one interloper, and kill Takami , we find all these new uninvited guests, and now they’re out to kill us!”
“Not very promising,” said Fedorov.
“Agreed. Face it, Fedorov, even if we do get lucky and kill those other Japanese ships, we’ve still commissioned many more on either side of this war. My intel service tells me that the Japanese are building out new hybrid carrier designs as fast as they can. This war is off on its own tangent now, and if we survive our next engagement, I doubt we’ll have much left to change these other things.”
“Yes…” said Fedorov. “We’d have to sink them all.”
“What? Did you think we could just go hunting and sink all the aberrant new ships that set sail because of our meddling? Then what about the history? There was no battle of Midway here. Moscow burned. The Germans are in Baghdad! No, too much has changed. After that, there’s Ivan Volkov, the Orenburg Federation, and everything happening elsewhere in this war. We can’t do what we thought we could—what we agreed to in our little tryst. Yes, you thought it was possible, but I’m telling you now that it isn’t. I knew that from the very first, but I agreed to go along with you and Volsky because I didn’t want to make an enemy of Gromyko. He was sent here by Kamenski to kill this ship, if you recall, but the Director wasn’t going to solve the problem that way either. It just isn’t possible now with this new flotilla of Japanese ships out there… But we have another solution, and I think you know what it is.”
Chapter 36
Fedorov lowered his head. He had felt this himself, realized the staggering odds stacked against them, but he had been willing to try. What else was there to do but try? Yet now Karpov was finally leveling with him and saying that their whole mission and plan was clearly not going to work.
“So you’re saying all of this is for naught,” he said. “It’s all just an exercise in futility.”
“Yes, it is…. From this point in time.”
That subtle pause when Karpov spoke was filled with an enormous amount of unspoken information.
“You mean….”
“Yes,” said Karpov. “I mean that we cannot succeed with our plan here—not in 1943. It will be nothing more than an exercise in futility, as you say, and it will also likely lead to the death of this ship and crew. But look here.” He tapped the lower base of the fan, the point from which each colorful segment originated, all fanning out into the future.
“The source of all our torment is here—in 1908. I realized this the moment I found myself there after I sunk those American battleships in 1945. I shifted back, but not Orlan , and that will always be on my conscience—yes, I still have a soul, in spite of what you may think of me.”
“You’re suggesting we go back again—to 1908?”
“That is the source, the real point of origin—the point of divergence in time that changed everything that came after. Isn’t that correct? I knew this the moment I found myself there, and I set about using the power I had to try and set things right. I would have succeeded there too—until Kazan appeared on the scene. You and Volsky thought you were doing the world and time a great favor by coming back after me, but you had it all wrong, Fedorov. I was the one chance you had at fixing this damn mess, and I’m telling you now that it simply cannot be done here in 1943. You knew that yourself when you went back on that mission to get after Sergei Kirov.”
“But you ordered me to abort that mission.”
“Yes, and you disobeyed. Now don’t tell me it was because I took that shot at your helo. You know damn well that was just a thin cover for what you really wanted to do. You knew it then, and you know it now—1908 is the key. It’s the only place where we can find a lever strong enough to move the whole world. 1908, Fedorov. That’s where we have to go if we are to have any chance at setting things right. And there you were, sucked back there again under some very mysterious circumstances, because Mother Time knows that’s the only place she could drop you to have any chance at putting all the broken china back together. When it came right down to it, you lost your nerve. You couldn’t kill Sergei Kirov and stop him from killing Stalin with that very same bullet. You thought we could fix things here, and you decided to come back, roll up your sleeve, and get busy. Well, here’s another little secret that you may already know. I never thought we could put things back the way they once were. Never. What’s done is done. All we could do was work to shape the new world that was coming, but now I see even that is self-serving crap.”
“Honesty cuts like a knife at times,” said Fedorov. “You’re right—I did lose my nerve. But so did you when you called off my mission.”
“No, that was just pure selfishness on my part,” said Karpov. “I’m not ashamed to say it. I made the same choice that Lucifer did. I simply decided it was better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. I was quite comfortable after fighting my way to the top of the heap in the Free Siberian State. Yes, I was quite comfortable here on my battlecruiser, and with the power to bring Yamamoto and Tojo to their knees, until Takami showed up, and now we get all her friends. But I never thought, for one minute, that I was crusading to restore the time line as it once was. That can’t be done from here. I’m telling you that it can only be done from 1908. That said, I simply decided I would prefer to live out my life here. Selfish, certainly. I’m a narcissistic bastard, but I was going to be a very content bastard here in the 1940s, and I was going to rule the roost. Now, however, it seems that someone has crashed my party. It isn’t going to be fun here from this point forward. Kazan came gunning for me, but I managed to get that situation under control. Now we’ve got the Japanese to worry about.”
“Not feeling so glib and confident?” asked Fedorov.
“Let’s just say that death is in the cards now, rude and untimely death. Who wants that? Certainly not me. I only narrowly averted it during that last engagement. I’d prefer not to have to refight that battle, not unless I can even the odds using Kazan as I’ve said earlier. Face it, we’re wasting our time here, quite literally. 1908, Fedorov! We’ve got to go back there if we want to do this thing—all of us.”
Fedorov was silent for some time. He knew that eve
rything Karpov had just said was true. They couldn’t change things from here, and they were fools to ever think they could. If they had the balls to try here, then they would have to see reason and do exactly what Karpov was suggesting. They would have to go back to the source—to 1908.
He looked up, seeing the coldness, unremitting, in Karpov’s eyes, but he could do nothing else but agree. “Alright,” he said. “You’re correct. The key lever point is 1908. We both know that, but each time we entertained a decisive intervention there, we lost our nerve. Yet that is why you persisted in rebuilding that back stairway at Ilanskiy, isn’t it? You knew all along that you always had one last resort—a way to get back to 1908 and settle affairs there.”
“True again,” said Karpov.
“How would we get back there? Are you suggesting we go to Ilanskiy and use those stairs; kill Sergei Kirov like we planned before?”
“That would be a start,” said Karpov. “And from there, we will have at least a sporting chance of getting Ivan Volkov out of the equation as well. Nukes or no nukes, we weren’t going to do that here.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Fedorov. “You’re probably correct to say that we might not be able to eliminate Volkov from here. The idea about using a nuclear threat was ill-conceived. A good sniper would be the way to go.”
“I’ve already put Tyrenkov on that assignment.”
“What? You took out a contract on Volkov?”
“Why not? We need him gone, and if my people can get to him, all the better. Don’t put much faith in his sudden peace overture. That man is a skunk, through and through. He’ll use us while he can, and then just as easily stab us in the back if he gets the chance. But even if we could assassinate him here, it won’t eliminate his Orenburg Federation. Someone else will just be waiting in the wings to take power there. So the only way to eliminate that contamination would be to nip it in the bud—or rather pull the weed before it can really take root and spread.”
“You mean in 1908?”
“Correct. Do we play the real game, where we have every chance of winning, or do we stick it out here in 1943 with all these half measures, taking our chances against those stealth jets, and God only knows what else. You said yourself that the continuum is fragile, and I’ve already seen what’s been happening in 2021. The nukes are flying. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. So what else might get blasted into the past. We already know that this war seems to act like a net for all those fish. I wonder why?”
“Probably because there were so many nexus points and crossing lines of fate here,” said Fedorov. “That’s the way that American physics professor would put things. This war was one crucial moment of potential change after another. On any given day, decisions are made, engagements fought, and they could all send the entire history off on a new direction. Look what’s just happened with the German return to a strategy in the Middle East. We had Kinlan’s Brigade here to stop them the first time with Operation Scimitar, but he’s gone—another incident where something broke through to this time frame from the future. Kinlan got here thanks to one of our nukes aimed at Sultan Apache, and he probably died when we took another shot at the modern day port of Tobruk. So yes, we could see more of this sort of fallout, with every nuke that gets thrown in 2021 having the potential to send something our way.”
“Could there be some method to that madness?” asked Karpov. “After all, with every contamination here, things get more and more skewed in this history. This situation here is a perfect example. Unless we find a way to stop them, the Japanese now have an Ace in the hole against the Americans, and this time it’s a war winner. 1943 was a tipping point. If they do get to those Essex Class fleet carriers, the US will see its war aims set back a full year here. All these changes may have yet one more effect—not only on this present time, but also on the outcome of the war, and the entire future built after that. Now I’ll tell you another of my dark thoughts. That could be exactly what time intends.”
That statement felt like a cold finger on the back of Fedorov’s neck. It had a sinister, chilling implication about it, and he looked at Karpov, wanting to hear what he thought. “Explain,” he said.
“She intends to so warp this present, that the future that built this ship cannot take shape. When we first came here, we had that future as some justification for our existence. You said it yourself, Fedorov, knock down some key pillar here and this ship never gets built. The reason for our existence is eliminated, which opens a very dark black hole beneath us no matter where we sail. You talk about Paradox? How can we persist here if Mother Time arranges it so that Kirov was never even built?”
“I’m not sure,” said Fedorov. “Kamenski might have something to say about it.”
“Kamenski? He was dead set on killing this ship himself! That’s why he sent Gromyko and Kazan back here. Alright, we changed that agenda, and put bigger fish in the frying pan. Now we realize that can’t be accomplished here. But in 1908, all things are possible. From there, we reign supreme.”
“You mean to reinstate the mission to kill Sergei Kirov?”
“One of them has to die, Fedorov, either the man, or the ship that was named after him. And that’s just for starters. We go back, and we collar Volkov as well, and that puts the entire Orenburg Federation in the bag. And if I take this ship back, as before, I can assure that the Japanese never occupy our territory”
“I see,” said Fedorov. “The odds are thickening up here, and you want to go back to a time when you’re invulnerable again.”
“It does make sense, Fedorov. Wouldn’t you agree? We go there, do all these things, and then there’s only one thing left to do in our plan—removing ourselves from the time line.”
“And what do you propose?” asked Fedorov. “You plan on scuttling the ship—Kazan too if we can get that boat back there with us somehow?”
“That would be an option, but we could also try one other thing—we could just go home.”
“To 2021?”
“Where else? That’s the war we belong in, my friend—not this one.”
“Assuming we tried all this, how do we get Kirov back there again?”
“Rod-25.”
“How do you know that would work? It could send us anywhere, forward, back a few years as it happened once before. If we end up in 1940, for example, then we get the whole Paradox scenario again.”
“Time has already played that game,” said Karpov. “No, I don’t think she’ll want to play it again. Now I’ll say something that has been ripening in my own mind for some time. We aren’t just anybody here Fedorov. We matter—and a very great deal. Here we sit, discussing the prospect of changing all the history since 1908, and we could do it! That’s what makes us special. When you and I decide something, say we’re going to do something, it’s no idle boast. We’re important, and therefore the things that we intend have weight—they have power. Our will has real and tangible power.”
“I intended to go back and kill Sergei Kirov,” said Fedorov. “Look how that turned out.”
“Do you know why?” Karpov folded his arms. “Because I intended that you should not kill him. I didn’t agree, and I’m not just anybody. But together, if we reach one mind on this, then I don’t think anything will stop us. Throw in Admiral Volsky on our side of this and the power of our intention gets even stronger. That’s what I believe. If we decide this, then we throw our own fates to the wind. We plunge that control rod into our little slice of infinity within the ship’s reactor core, and Time has to make a choice. Where does she send us—back to 1940 so she gets another massive paradox to sort through? I don’t think so. No, I think she’ll see that we get exactly where we intend to go—and that goes for Kazan as well. You and I stand here aboard Kirov , and we’ll get back to 1908. Volsky stands aboard Kazan , and Gromyko with his mandate from Kamenski, and something tells me they will get back too. Why would Time want us anywhere else—anywhere but the one place where we can really deal with thi
s madness?”
“Astounding,” said Fedorov. “I’m starting to think you may have something here. It all accords with Dorland’s Time theory. I’ve read that book over an over since we got caught up in this web. Do you know what the very first entry in his time glossary is? Absolute Certainty. It’s a condition brought about by willful determination—not just by anyone, but by people who matter—Prime Movers, according to Dorland. That’s what you’re saying about us when you say we matter, that our will has pull and power. We’re Prime Movers, the both of us—Volsky too, and possibly even Gromyko, since he’s been cooked into the same borscht here with all the rest of us. The concept of Absolute Certainty serves to restrict or limit possible variations in the outcome of things—it serves to mitigate unintended consequences, and force events into accord with the will of the Prime Mover.”
“Just what I was suggesting,” said Karpov. “I should read this book!”
“Yes,” said Fedorov. “We’ve already seen a good number of things in it happen here. We’ve faced Paradox, saw the real effect of a Dual Heisenberg Wave that gave rise to your brother—a living Doppelganger. We’ve moved from one Nexus Point and Meridian to another, each with its own outcomes and consequences. We’ve seen the real manifestation of a time loop, and one that could even repeat again if we aren’t careful. Hell, I’ve listened to Elena Fairchild talking about a Grand Finality when things become so convoluted that they are insoluble, and no clear future can arise. Now here we are, two Prime Movers, talking about going back to the Point of Origin, the point of first divergence in 1908. Damnit Karpov. You’re right!”
Karpov smiled.
“Yes,” Fedorov continued. “There’s another concept that Dorland talks about in that book. He calls it ‘Quantum Karma.’ The notion of one’s karma is an old metaphysical concept from the eastern traditions. The things a person does in one state of existence have an effect in deciding their future fate. Dorland says that there’s a physical analogue for that—and on a quantum level. He suggests that Prime Movers can accumulate an aura of Quantum Karma around them that also has profound effects on the configuration of future moments in Time. Think of it like the way a ship’s hull concentrates the magnetic field of the earth. In this war, they introduced degaussing techniques to reduce that and lower the risk that a ship might set off a magnetic mine. We still routinely degauss ships in normal maintenance cycles. Well, what Dorland says is that Prime Movers collect quantum karma, and while it may not set off mines, it does have a profound effect on the outcome of events—particularly when their own volition is involved in those outcomes.”
Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29) Page 32