Grand Alliance (Kirov Series)

by John Schettler

  Hitler narrowed his eyes, thinking deeply, remembering those terrible battles against the dogged British army in the last war. Paulus was correct. The British were a rock that would sit stubbornly on his flank if it was not smashed and destroyed… or buried…”

  “Very well,” he said slowly, standing upright and nodding his head. “Get Rommel the troops and supplies he needs. Use any forces that seem practical. But get rid of the British, Paulus. Understand? I will give you until Summer. After that….”

  He said nothing more.

  Chapter 33

  The time had finally come for Fedorov to return to the ship, and the KA-40 lifted off in a whirl of blowing dust. He looked out as they gained altitude, seeing the elements of Kinlan’s brigade in company sized positions on the desert below. He knew it would not be long before the Germans were over-flying them as well. Kinlan had only so many air defense missiles in train.

  He turned with a heavy heart, seeing Troyak sitting stolidly with the Marines, and realizing that he had neglected them for some time. He gave the Sergeant a long look, apologizing.

  “Sergeant Troyak, I want to thank you for your patience and conduct in this situation. I know it was not easy for you when I ordered the men to stand down, but it was necessary to save what could have become a very serious situation.”

  “I understand, sir. No problem here.”

  “But I know you and the men didn’t like it.”

  “No Marine ever wants to put his weapon down in the face of a threat,” said Troyak. “But I could see what was happening. I handled the men, and we had good treatment from the British—most of them.”

  “Oh? There was a problem?”

  “Just a Sergeant that thought he was too big for his trousers.”

  “Right,” said Popski. “It almost came to blows.”

  “I see… Well I hope you understand that is the war we’re trying to prevent. Fighting it here won’t help us do that. The British must be seen as our allies now. Understand?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Very good. I want to thank you, and all you men as well. I realize it must have been a dull ride for you, and not nearly the mission you were up for.”

  Popski spoke up again. “They didn’t get a chance with those Desert Witches,” he said, and Troyak smiled.

  Fedorov went on to explain to them what had happened, and what it could mean to the overall course of the war. They could see that both he and Popski had been changed by the incident, and did not really understand how it occurred. Popski had a strange, haunted look in his eye, as if he were now in the company of unborn spirits from the future. He was, and that thought bedeviled him on one level. Fedorov seemed deeply troubled, almost as if he had built a sand castle on the beach, laboring with great intensity, and now had to leave it, knowing the tides would come. They wanted to know how all this had happened, and Fedorov had no real answer for them.

  “It’s like so many other things that have happened to us. We don’t really know. Perhaps it was that detonation I told you about from our own ICBM. Yet it’s ironic. It began in our time as an act of violence against a perceived enemy, but it ended up sending those men to us as allies in a time of great need here. Now they share the same fate we’ve been struggling with. God go with them.”

  There was a long silence, until Zykov spoke up, asking Fedorov a question that was on the mind of many of the men.

  “Will we ever get back, sir—to our own time?”

  Fedorov rubbed the weariness from his brow. “I wish I could answer that. I have often wondered what we would find if we tried again. We saw that world once or twice if you recall, and it wasn’t very appealing. Some of you were sent ashore at Halifax. Well the devastation we saw there and other places leads me to believe there may not be very much left of our old world.”

  “But we did get back once,” said Zykov. “What about Vladivostok?”

  “That was before the war started,” said Fedorov. “We appeared in that window of time between July 28 when we first disappeared, and the beginning of the war in the Pacific. We can never shift to a time where we already exist, so we couldn’t revisit those same days. If we ever did try to shift back, we would have to appear after July 28, but before the date of our return in the Pacific, and that would be a very short lease, because we already have tickets to those seats, if that makes any sense. So the only safe shift would be for us to appear after the date Kirov disappeared while under Karpov’s command. By that time the missiles would be in the air, as we have seen with this attack on the British brigade that sent them here.”

  “But sir,” said Chenko, a young corporal. “If that is so, then will we find out things are being blown into the past all over the world? That was not the only missile that must have been fired.”

  “I think there was another factor involved in this incident,” said Fedorov. “I’m not quite sure about it yet, but something else caused this breach in time here, something more than the detonation itself.”

  Orlov took notice of that, and the fact that Fedorov had asked him to hand over the thing he found in Siberia seemed immediately related to what the Captain was saying now.

  “Maybe it was that thing I found,” he said. “The Devil’s Teardrop.”

  Zykov laughed at that, but Orlov was serious. “Did you see how it glowed when we saw the sky light up? Hot as hell too! I’d be careful with that thing, Fedorov.”

  The crew settled in for the flight to Alexandria, but Zykov had one more question. “Captain, you say we can’t go anywhere that we already exist. Yes? Then what’s going to happen in another few months? It will be July of 1941 soon, crazy as that still sounds. Does that mean the ship can’t appear here like we did the first time?”

  “We’re working on that problem, Corporal. I’ve been discussing it with Director Kamenski, but you are correct. I don’t think we can co-locate.”

  “Hey Zykov,” said Orlov, lightening the mood. “Too bad, because now you can’t go kiss your own ass come July!”

  All the men laughed at that.

  * * *

  That was just one more thing Fedorov had to worry about. A strange object in his pocket, possibly a very dangerous one, but better there than in Orlov’s pocket, he thought. I haven’t time to sort out what will happen in July now. First things first. I’ve got to go through all of this with Wavell. At least I’ll be able to speak with him directly in Russian, but how will I tell him about this? With Kinlan I had the impossible disappearance of Sultan Apache, and much more evidence. With O’Connor we had the shock of his seeing those tanks. But Wavell will be there in Alexandria, a level headed, no-nonsense man, and if I just come out with the truth he would think I’m a madman.

  Thankfully, he did not have to fight that battle alone this time. By the time the KA-40 returned he had learned that the fleet was also close at hand, due in port within hours. So he radioed Admiral Volsky to tell him something very important had happened, but he needed to speak with him in person. Volsky told him to vector in on the ship and land there, and the two men had time to discuss the situation with Director Kamenski.

  “I have a plan when it comes time to bring Wavell over the line,” said Volsky. “You have done well, Fedorov. It must have been a very difficult situation for you. I can only imagine your surprise, though we have had more than our fair share of that on this journey. A full British mechanized brigade?” Volsky shook his head. “Amazing. How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know, sir. But it may have had something to do with this.” He reached in his pocket and produced the Devil’s Teardrop, setting it quietly on the briefing table in the plot room where they were seated. “Orlov found this on that mission to Siberia. They were off course for a time, and came to the Stony Tunguska River. He says they were investigating a sighting on the ground, and encountered a very strange artifact there that seemed to unnerve the whole away team. It was just laying on the tundra.”

  Kamenski looked at the object over the top of his gl
asses, his cinder brows raising as he did so. “Very symmetrical… And you say Orlov said it reacted to the event that sent this British force here? Very interesting. The Stony Tunguska… This is obviously no coincidence. We already know that materials from that region found their way into that control rod that moved this entire ship.”

  “What could it be?”

  “Possibly a fragment of the object that fell. There is still much debate over what that actually was. One researcher, Menotti Galli, had a theory that tiny particles of the object might be stuck in the resin of the trees on the perimeter of the fall site. They did find stony particles in the trees, but not that size, and this… why, it looks metallic. It’s completely smooth, and note how it reflects the light, almost as if it were polished. Did Orlov do this?

  “Not that I’m aware of. He says he just had it in his pocket. He was going to ask what Dobrynin thought about it, and I had that same idea. So I went by engineering right after we landed, and another odd thing happened. There was a problem with the reactors.”

  This got Volsky’s attention. “What kind of problem, he asked?”

  “It happened just as I arrived—some kind of flux event, and Dobrynin was not happy, so I left him to his work.”

  “Very curious,” said Volsky. He reached for the intercom panel on the briefing table and punched up engineering.

  “Chief Dobrynin, please come to the briefing room. This is the Admiral.” He looked at Fedorov. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “You suspect something?” said Kamenski.

  “We have had these flux events with the reactors before,” Volsky explained. “They always seemed to be associated with the time displacements. In fact, that was one of the clues that led us to realize our own reactors were involved in the process. Well… The Chief has a lot of ladders to climb. Let us turn to other matters for a moment. You say that O’Connor has been briefed, and this new British General has accepted his situation. Good enough. When we got the news of Rommel’s retreat, the Admirals were overjoyed. Now we know why! This is the force on land we needed, Fedorov. It is a most significant turn of events.”

  “And a very dangerous one,” said Fedorov. “It was an agonizing decision, but I could see no other way. Kinlan had to know everything, and O’Connor as well. The British leadership here cannot be left in the dark.”

  “Agreed,” said Volsky. ‘This is why we decided Admiral Tovey had to be let in on our little secret. Well, it may comfort you to know that we have also briefed Admiral Cunningham. So I will enlist their support concerning the matter of Wavell.”

  Now he told Fedorov of the strange appearance of the Argos Fire, and Kamenski listened quietly, a light kindling in his eye as Volsky related the details of the meeting with Fairchild and MacRae, and the battles they fought with the Axis fleets. “They did not like our missiles,” he finished, but I will say this as well—I do not like their air power. Eventually we will run out of SAMs, and after that the situation looks very different for us. They can continue to build their planes, but we cannot build more missiles.”

  “Kinlan will soon face this same situation,” said Fedorov. “Our power is waning, but we are still strong enough to make a difference. We stopped Rommel’s advance into Egypt, and you have seriously hurt the enemy fleets.”

  “True, but have a look at that battleship they towed in. The British lost their Queen Elizabeth, and this one, Malaya, was badly damaged. Battered. I doubt if it will ever be serviceable again. Yes, we hurt the enemy far worse. The Italians lost at least three battleships—our Vodopad torpedoes performed very well this time—and the French lost the Strausbourg. Yet all things considered, and after tallying the roster of missing souls at sea again, the balance of power has not really changed. The two German ships were damaged, but I think they will sail again. So the Italians still have battleships, and the French have the Normandie and Dunkerque—not to mention the ships they still have at Casablanca. Theoretically they could still amass a fleet that could overpower anything Tovey has left here. Without us he has only Warspite with his own ship, and those two carriers. So something tells me we may have to fight another major engagement soon. Yet we have bought the British time, and that counts for something.”

  “What about Gromyko, sir?”

  “He’s out there,” Volsky pointed. “I have him on a defensive patrol to keep watch over the Warspite until it reaches port safely. He will join us soon.”

  Then we still have three kings here in the Mediterranean,” said Fedorov, “Kirov, Kazan, and this Argos Fire.”

  “Three kings with dwindling missile magazines,” said Volsky. “We took inventory after the battle. Not counting the close in Kashtan system, we have 76 medium and long range SAMs left and 28 ship killers. Throw in the last four Vodopad torpedoes and that makes 32. Argos Fire has 106 SAMs left, but only 10 ship killers. As for Kazan, Gromyko said he used a salvo of eight missiles, and he put two torpedoes into the Strausbourg later. That leaves him ten more Onyx missiles and his remaining torpedo inventory, perhaps 30 fish. Given its stealth, his boat is perhaps the most powerful in the world now, but after those missiles and torpedoes are gone, he’s no more threatening than a ride at an amusement park. On paper it sounds like a lot of firepower, perhaps it is more than enough to win the next battle we find ourselves in. But between the three of us 115 SAMs and 21 ship killers and torpedoes were used in this recent engagement. Yes, we have another good fight or two left in the magazines, but after that the numbers will get serious.”

  “Then we have to make our difference now,” said Fedorov. “We are as strong now as we will ever be again.”

  “Yes, just as I am as old now as I have ever been, and younger than I’ll ever be again!” Volsky smiled. “I am not so much worried about our ability to control the sea against their navy,” he said. “It is their air force that plagues me. The strength of their air power was underestimated. We should have had you along to clue us in, Fedorov. They hit us with three waves, and thankfully, the third wave failed to find us in the storm.”

  “Understood, sir. And as for Kazan. I think Gromyko’s boat might be able to use torpedoes from this era. The engineers could modify the torpedo tubes.”

  “Possibly…. This was a very long war, as you well know.” At that moment Chief Dobrynin arrived, just a little breathless from his five deck climb. He saluted, greeting the men Volsky gestured for him to take a seat.

  “You wanted to see me, Admiral?”

  “Have we had any reactor problems today, Chief?”

  “Now that you mention it, there was one small glitch. You were there, Fedorov. Sorry to be so short with you, Captain, but when that flux alarm goes off it really gets my attention. It turned out to be a small event. The system settled down just after you left.”

  “I see,” said Volsky. “Then the reactors are fine?”

  “There was one other incident, just before the KA-40 mission was launched. It was the same thing, a flux alarm that got me all worked up, but before I could determine what was wrong, things settled down again.”

  “Could this have anything to do with those control rods?”

  “They aren’t in the system now, sir. I’ve retracted both to radiation safe containers, and I’m using an old spare in the number 25 spot now. Thankfully it doesn’t send us on a marathon through time when I perform routine maintenance.”

  “Chief… Orlov found something that we’d like you to take a look at.” The Admiral gestured to the Devil’s Teardrop, still sitting on the briefing table near Kamenski. Dobrynin had noticed it, wondering what it was, but now he gave it a closer examination.

  “Very strange,” he said. “It’s almost glassy smooth, and very reflective. Looks like it was machined, and then deformed to this shape by high temperatures. Yet there’s no heat damage visible. You say Orlov found this?”

  “In Siberia,” said Fedorov. “Along the Stony Tunguska.”

  “Why is it that name raises my hackles?”

  �
��Orlov says it acts funny,” Fedorov explained. “It changes temperatures. In fact, it got very hot—too hot to touch—right when that incident happened in the desert, Admiral.”

  Kamenski had been listening to everything, sometimes with his eyes closed, as if he needed a good long nap. The mention of Tunguska perked him up again, and now he spoke up.

  “We know that materials from that region have produced strange effects, temporal effects. Is there any way you can examine this in the lab, Mister Dobrynin? Could you determine its makeup?”

  “I’d be happy to have a look, sir.”

  “Good, please do, because I think we may be in for quite a little surprise!”

  Part XII

  Scareships

  “Supposing our friends the Germans are amusing themselves by carefully observing the fortifications and outworks of Norwich, and other strategic points on British soil… Maybe they are landing troops one by one, with instructions where to join the main army in 1915. I only hope they have provisions until then. That they are humorists there can be no doubt, otherwise they would hardly have given poor old Norwich a visit. Meanwhile, our nerves are all on edge, and some of the more flabby-minded will probably end by crowding out our well-filled asylums.”

  ― A Letter from E. B. Nye: Norfolk News, 22 May, 1909

  Chapter 34

  Karpov was satisfied that he had finally reached an understanding with Sergei Kirov. He knows how useful I can be to his survival, he thought, and the survival of Soviet Russia. And he also knows how dangerous I could be as an enemy. Carrot and stick—that was the way to negotiate. I showed him what I could do when I stopped Volkov’s offensive. Otherwise he might have perceived me as a weak, whining nobody, trying to enlist support in a fight I could not win. But I did win, didn’t I. Volkov knows that, and now Kirov knows it as well.