“Can you do it, Chief?”
“I have no idea, Mister Fedorov. Yet all I can do is try, and we are ready to begin.”
“Very well, we’ve lingered here long enough. I used the time trying to find that missing British soldier while we were waiting to hear from Karpov, but I think I know what happened to him now. The ship is battened down. Everything is securely fastened and radar says there is nothing within five kilometers of us at the moment, so hopefully we won’t take anything else with us. Let’s begin.”
Even as he gave that order a sudden thrum of anxiety rose in his chest. What if Karpov changes the history so radically that we are never even born or alive in the year 2021? If we try to return there, how would time account for our presence there in 2021? Will we vanish like Haselden? He realized they could be trying to shift themselves right into oblivion! Then another inner voice calmed him. It said that Karpov would never even be here unless they were all alive on Kirov and lost on this strange odyssey. Somehow he had to feel an essential part of it all, and have faith that paradox could not reach out to steal him away.
A darker thought came to him…What if Karpov does something that set the world on a course to catastrophe? What if Rod-25 politely takes us to the year 2021, but there is nothing left of the world—just those devastated cities we saw each time we shifted forward? This means the Great War was fought before 2021! That’s why we saw the destruction everywhere! Then we had Kirov at hand to go back into the past and try again. But what could I do with the resources here on the Anatoly Alexandrov? His mind went round and round, but there was no more time to consider these things.
Dobrynin nodded, looking over at a technician at the operations console and raising his finger like a conductor about to begin a composition.
“We’ve selected rod number eight for replacement, and so let us begin.”
The technicians began throwing switches and even Fedorov could hear a change in the sound of the reactor now as servo motors and other systems kicked in to begin the procedure of withdrawing a the control rod from an active reaction. Meanwhile, Rod-25 waited in place above the core, ready to descend again into the nuclear soup.
Chief Dobrynin closed his eyes and listened. He had to remember the sound of their fall to this place in time, and now reverse it. He listened, hearing the overture in the subtle vibrations and sound frequencies; hearing things that none of the others seemed to notice at all. He raised a hand, speaking softly as he listened. “Begin replacement rod insertion. Set timing at interval two.”
There it was, he thought, the song to the Angels. He could hear it, feel it, and with each vibration pattern he knew what should come next. He made several other adjustments, first subtly increasing the insertion rate, then slowing it down again, and all the while Rod-25 sang its song, a distinctive voice in the choir of the 48 other rods working to control the nuclear reaction, like the soloist leading on the others in a rising chorus of neutron flux.
It was not long until they began to notice the same strange effects again. There was a tang of ozone in the air, a sudden chill, and the odd luminescent, pulsing waves that emanated from the Anatoly Alexandrov. Then the air seemed to thicken around them, a deep mist enveloping them.
And they were gone.
Chapter 36
The score was played, to the very last note, ascending the scales of infinity to find shape and form again in another time. Dobrynin heard every note, varying the rhythm and time at intervals, and subtly leading the operation with the harmonies he listened to in his head so many times.
They were back—somewhere, and Fedorov wasted no time trying to find out where they were as soon as it became evident that the Anatoly Alexandrov had stabilized in this new milieu. He turned to the communications station and had them immediately send out an emergency signal to the Naval facility at Kaspiysk on channels that had been reserved for his operations, and with special coding. To his great surprise, they got a return signal in confirmation, and voice communication soon ensued.
“Wild Geese, Wild Geese, we read you. This is Mother Hen. Over.”
“Mother Hen. This is Wild Geese, please confirm date and time. Over.” To his great surprise and delight, they had arrived back in the year 2021, just hours after they left! Of course, he thought. He just learned that they could not ever shift to a time where they already existed. They would have to arrive there after they left, or they would be faced with the paradox of seeing duplicates of themselves. If Haselden’s experience was any guide, Time would not permit that.
“You did it, Chief! My God that song in your head brought us home. We still have time to do something. It isn’t too late! How did you manage it?”
“Don’t ask me to explain it, Fedorov. Just be grateful we’re here.”
“Yes, and we have no time to lose. We need to get everything ready to go, Rod-25 and the other two control rods as well. Get them on the helicopter and we’ll head for the airfield at Kaspiysk. There was an Antonov transport plane there, and it can get us to Vladivostok faster than any other way I can imagine. Now get me Admiral Volsky on the secure mission channel. Top priority!”
“Right away, sir.”
* * *
Admiral Volsky had been listening to everything Kamenski was telling him, trying to sort it all out in his own head, and wishing Fedorov were there to help him. The shadowy ex-KGB man had come to him with startling evidence of Karpov’s shift to 1945, and the fate of the Red Banner Pacific Fleet that fell from heaven into that hell of a war again. Now he wondered about the mission they had planned for the Anatoly Alexandrov.
“What about that, Kamenski? Do you know what happened to Fedorov and Dobrynin?”
“To some extent. I can tell you that the Anatoly Alexandrov got back to 1942 safely, just as you planned it. Then things began to happen. Some very unusual things…because I just came from the special code room. We have received another message.”
“Another letter? From who? Was it Fedorov this time?”
“Not another letter, Admiral. This time it was a radio call, and yes, it is from your young navigator. I told them I needed to speak with you first about these matters. The call is holding on line one if you would care to pick up your telephone. I think we may both learn just a little more of this story now, and have some of our questions answered.”
Volsky gave him a wide eyed look and picked up his desk phone, quickly punching line one. “Admiral Volsky,” he said.
“Admiral! This is Fedorov. Good to hear your voice, sir.”
“Fedorov…Just a moment…” He pushed the speakerphone so that Kamenski could listen in. “There now. Where are you, Fedorov?”
“I am aboard Anatoly Alexandrov in the Caspian, sir.”
“Thank God! Dobrynin got through to you. That is good news. And what of your mission, Fedorov? Did you find Orlov?”
“We did sir, and we have him aboard. It was a very long journey, and now we are home.”
“And the Mi-26? Did it get safely away to the coast with those control rods?”
“No sir. I was forced to cancel that mission. We needed to use the helicopter to find Orlov. It’s a long story, Admiral, but I will explain it to you as soon as I get there.”
“Then Kirov is still trapped in 1945? I have some evidence it may have been destroyed there.”
“No sir… The ship is not in 1945. There was another incident. It’s Karpov, sir. He’s back to the same mindset as before. He was thinking to do something dramatic, something spectacular.”
“Yes, I have been discussing that with someone here, yet the outcome is not yet clear to us.”
“I can tell you that Kirov shifted again in time, sir. There must have been another detonation to cause it, just like the first one. And you know what that means…”
“Yes, yes, Karpov resorted to nuclear weapons. We have evidence of that as well. You were correct, Mister Fedorov. The history is not set in stone. It is still changing.”
“Yes, sir. I thought it
was Orlov all along, but it was Karpov. He shifted further back in time. The ship is now trapped in 1908!”
“What? 1908? This is a most shocking development, Fedorov. How did you learn this?”
“Because I have been there too, sir. I will tell you about it when I arrive, but first I must tell you that we were able to reach Karpov on shortwave and we proposed your mission to him. He put it to the crew and they voted to stay where they were!”
“What? That’s impossible? How could they do this?”
“I believe the Captain has persuaded them that they are better off there than they would be in attempting to return here. I can half understand that. After all, there was no way we could predict what would happen if he ever did try to use those other control rods you found. What an amazing development!”
“But what now, Fedorov? The ship is marooned in 1908?”
“At the moment I have a very pressing need for two things, Admiral. First I need priority orders for a fast cargo lift from Kaspiysk to Vladivostok. We will bring the control rods with us.”
“I can cut that order immediately, Captain.”
“Good, sir. Then I need a ship—somewhere in the Pacific. I will tell you why when I get there. Can you arrange it?”
“Yes, I suppose I can, Fedorov…” Volsky thought on that a moment, wondering what Fedorov was thinking.
“We will talk soon, Admiral. But trust me, I have a plan. Fedorov Over and out.”
Kamenski smiled as the Admiral hung up the telephone. “An enterprising young man. 1908? That is very interesting, but now the more I think of it, the more it begins to make sense to me. 1908… You know that was the year of the Tunguska event.”
“How could that effect the ship?” Volsky saw the puzzle pieces, but he could not yet put them together in his mind.
“Have you ever had a persistent gopher or a mole in your nice front yard or garden, Admiral?”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“They are very clever animals, thankfully short lived, but very clever. If one gets well established in your garden it become a little devil there, and it will eat the roots of everything growing, killing off the lawn, the flowers, and anything else. Believe me, I have had more than one battle with these creatures in my garden. They dig tunnels to make their entry, then a main tunnel where they create a nest, food cache, and many side tunnels for escape hatches. You can try everything to root them out, and fail—water, gas, traps. They are very clever and persistent little devils.”
“Mister Kamenski. Please make sense!”
“Forgive me, Admiral, but bear with me here. You see, a gopher will dig all these little tunnels in the ground, and at varying depths. I tried to dig down into one to set good traps, only to find, by chance, that the rascal had an even deeper network. That is what may be happening here. Kirov fell through a gopher hole in time when that first detonation occurred aboard Orel. That sent you down the hole to 1941, and the ship had a very hard time trying to climb back out. You dug around a good bit of history in the process, and every time you popped your gopher heads up out of the hole all you saw was a dead and barren garden, never realizing it was your own handiwork that killed everything off. Well there are deeper holes, in that garden, Admiral, and I think Kirov just found one that sent it sliding back to 1908! Who knows how these holes got there? Perhaps whatever came out of the darkness of space that day in late June of 1908 was the real devil in the garden. It may have created all these holes in time with that impact; holes that remain to this day.”
“You are speaking of the Tunguska event again?”
“Yes. Now I begin to see the connection. As fate would have it, we found materials for our control rods in the ejecta of the Tunguska event. Stick them into a nuclear reactor and they become nice little spades that cut through the soil of time rather well, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I see…” Volsky finally had a handle on the problem now.
“Yes, and we have been digging in the devil’s garden, Admiral, like a mole or vole will sometimes come along and re-colonize abandoned gopher holes. Believe me, I have been gardening for a very long time. From what your Mister Fedorov tells me, we still have a mole down there in your Mister Karpov. There is still a devil loose in the garden.”
“Yes, and I can just hear Fedorov now. He will tell me that in 1908 Karpov could cause so much damage to the course of events that the history would be completely unrecognizable.”
“Very true, Admiral. With a ship like Kirov he could do a good deal of harm, and very quickly. Nothing could oppose him, at least at sea. How his mischief might affect events on land remains to be seen, and you and I just may be able to read about it soon.”
“Yes, Kamenski! Why don’t you consult those references you mentioned to me earlier. Can’t we find out the end of this tale now? Won’t it all be history we can read in any library?”
“Perhaps…and then again perhaps not. Remember when I told you why you and I recalled the old history, but no one else?”
“Yes. You said it was because we have traveled in time.”
“A pair of funny looking little gophers, you and I.” Kamenski smiled. “Well, I talked about that dead space in the course of events, like the eye of a hurricane where all is still and calm. Can you feel it, Admiral? Here we sit, deep underground in our own little gopher hole in this reinforced bunker, and at the edge of an event that could prove to be the destruction of all humanity. Here we sit, waiting for the ICBMs. This war has run out for nine long days, and now it is about to really begin. Unfortunately the beginning and the end are one and the same when it comes to ICBMs. It is my guess that others like us have also gone into their little holes, just as we have, and some of them may be holes in time as well as space.”
“Others?”
“We are not the only ones who have learned about some of the things we have been discussing here, Admiral. Yes, there are others, and they may have ways of digging in the garden of fate as well. But here we sit, you and I, and the world seems breathless. We can hear the clock ticking out the last moments of the time that may be left to us, and that sound grows ever louder in our minds and souls. At any minute the alarm clock may go off, and then what? This we do not know. But at this moment I think all fate and time is waiting for something that will prove to be the decisive element in all of this.”
“Waiting for something?”
“I should say someone, the person the outcome of these complex events truly depends upon.”
“Who do you mean, Karpov? That man has always had a devil on his shoulder, Kamenski.”
“Yes, he is certainly in a time and place now where he might change everything, and the moment he does do something irreversible, then our time here may finally run out. But I do not think it is Karpov the world now waits upon.”
“Not Karpov? Who then? Orlov? Does he have something more to do with this?”
“Perhaps he has already done his work in the garden, Admiral. No. I think we are waiting now for that Antonov to get those control rods to us here. We are waiting for your Mister Fedorov, and so is fate and time.”
Volsky thought about that. Fedorov was rushing here with all the control rods they had collected. “I see…But can’t we just find out how all this ends by consulting your library?”
“No, I think we must simply wait. Your Mister Fedorov has some kind of plan, just as he told us, but until he actually works it we cannot know the outcome in our time here. There may come a moment when my old books change, and then we may read about it. But that moment will not occur until Fedorov gets here and actually leaves us again…in time. Only then can we know what might happen. On the other hand, you may wish to accompany him and actually take part in the story that is yet to unfold. That may be a little more satisfying than simply reading about it. So for now, we will have to wait for him and see how the story plays out.”
“My God…Fedorov…with another plan. I wonder what it is this time?”
Kamenski sat
down quietly, a wry smile on his face now. “Don’t look so dejected, Admiral. It won’t be very long before we know how all this turns out. In the meantime, suppose you and I have a nice cup of tea.”
* * *
“So you got your way with the Admiral, Fedorov?” Chief Dobrynin gave the young officer a clap on the back. “But I still have no idea what you plan to do. How can you possibly stop Karpov from doing all these things you fear? What good will a ship do you, if the Admiral even has anything left afloat at Vladivostok? You forget the Americans are still at war with us. Getting it out to sea may be difficult.”
“Not a ship, Chief. You are correct. The Red Banner Pacific Fleet doesn’t have anything left that could pose any threat to Kirov. I should have been more specific. What I really need now is a submarine. You told me you suggested this to Admiral Volsky when he first proposed the operation to you with the Mi-26. I came round to that as a better solution myself. We’re home, Chief, and now we get ourselves a goddamned nuclear powered attack submarine, that’s what we do! We install the control rods there, and then you have a good long listen. If you could get the reactors on the submarine to sing that same song that you recorded on the Anatoly Alexandrov, then we might just return to 1908. It may be a long shot, Chief, but we have to try. If we do make it back, this time I won’t be sitting on a floating power plant in the Caspian Sea. No! This time I’ll be right there in the Sea of Japan aboard the one nemesis Karpov has always feared and respected—a nuclear attack submarine! Then maybe he’ll listen.”
“A very good plan, Mister Fedorov, but what if he won’t listen?”
Fedorov gave him a long look, but said nothing more.
The saga continues!
Dear Reader,
Yes…I meant to end this story by now, but events have taken longer to relate than I expected, and Mister Fedorov has pulled the story to a place it now needs to go before the end. So I invite you to spend just a little more time with me, as I present yet one more volume of this strange tale.
Kirov Saga: Devil's Garden (Kirov Series) Page 30