“You are telling me that you moved in time?”
“Don't be so surprised, Karpov. Your very presence here tells me you have done the same! Yes, how could you be here, I say this to myself? But the evidence of one's eyes is very convincing, is it not? You are Vladimir Karpov, Captain of the battlecruiser Kirov. Do you deny it?” Volkov could see that Karpov remained speechless, bewildered, and now somewhat ill at ease.
“No, you do not deny it. You are Karpov, the same man I spoke with. And given what happened to me, and your presence here, I now begin to understand what happened to your ship.”
Chapter 12
“This is astounding!”
“Yes, it truly is, and I have lived with it for the last thirty-two years. Tell me, Karpov, how long have you been here? As I said, you do not look like you have aged much since I remember seeing you last, except for that scar you bear on your cheek.”
Now that the awful truth was plain between them, Karpov's words spilled out, unrestrained.
“Thirty-two years? 1908 you say? There is something about that year. I don't suppose you know what happened to me after the Inspector General sent you on your way and I sailed out of Vladivostok later to face the American Navy. No, I don't suppose you have any idea at all what I have gone through. Face them we did, and we hurt them. Then that Demon volcano erupted in the Kuriles and blew what was left of my fleet into the past again. I say again because you are right, that is what happened to Kirov in July during those live fire exercises in the Norwegian Sea. All your suspicions were correct. You could clearly see that the ship had been in combat, that something was amiss, but the pieces of the puzzle did not add up. There was no way for you to see the big picture, and of course no way you could possibly believe what we might have told you if we had revealed the truth. But, as you say, the evidence of one's eyes becomes indisputable after a while, and so I, too, came to believe that the impossible was real.”
“Demon volcano? I don't understand.”
“It's a very long story, Volkov. Perhaps one day we will have more time to discuss it, but for now it seems we share one thing that few in this world could comprehend or ever know. Yes, Kirov moved in time. It was an accident, and just as you say you found yourself somewhere else in time, our ship did the same. We found ourselves in the 1940s, fighting in this damnable war, struggling to find any way we could to get home. At times that struggle was rather fierce, and I had to resort to some extreme measures. But it seems all I did was worsen our situation. Then we found ourselves displaced deeper in time, to the year 1908, as impossible as it sounds for me to casually say such a thing. Then, unaccountably, the ship vanished, but I was left behind… Somewhere else.”
Volkov was trying as best he could to follow all of this, and only his own incredible experience gave him any reference point to understand it or accept it. But now each of the two men were coming to believe the impossibility that was before them, and Karpov’s candor was evident.
“You say the ship moved to the1940s? How was it I had no word of that? My intelligence apparatus is very good, as you might suspect.”
“Because you weren’t here, Volkov. None of this had happened. There was no Orenburg Federation or Free Siberian State. The Japanese were not in Vladivostok, and Stalin ruled a united Soviet Union with an iron hand.”
“Stalin? What about Kirov?”
“He was dead, just as he should be now. Yes. We were in the past, but the history had not yet changed. It was all our meddling while we were there—all my meddling to be fair about it. That is what gave rise to all of this.” He waved his arm, encompassing the entirety of the world beyond the confines of that meeting room.
“Your meddling? So the entire ship did move in time as I suspected. How? Have you discovered that yet?”
“Yes, we thought we knew how and why it was happening, but now I come to feel that ship was cursed, along with every man aboard. Yes, we moved even as you did, Volkov. Then, in the midst of combat, I was thrown clear of the ship when we were struck by enemy gunfire, and when I awoke I was here… That was two years ago.”
“Two years ago? You mean to say you appeared in the year 1938?”
“Correct, and I have been busy too! I see you have made the most of your situation, so do not be surprised that I made the most of mine. Cream rises to the top, does it not? You and I seem to be common fated, Volkov. We are two men cut from the same cloth.”
“This is amazing!” Volkov put his hands flat on the table now, as if he were testing the reality of this moment, needing something common and tangible to get hold of and anchor him. On one hand the presence of Karpov in the room relieved the terrible burden he had carried all these years, that he was a derelict, and outcast in time, a lost soul condemned to this wicked torture, exiled in the past. Here was another confederate, someone he could finally unburden himself to, a man and face from the old life he had come from. So he wasn’t insane, and this was not his private hell any longer. There was another fallen angel before him now, scarred, haggard in spite of his prim uniform and cap, and all those medals pinned on his chest.
“So you have been busy,” he pointed. “Old Man Kolchak seems to have taken a liking to you.”
“That is so. He knows strength when he sees it.”
“How did this happen, Karpov?”
“We don’t really know.”
“You say it was an accident?”
“At first, yes, that is what we believed. Then we discovered it may have had something to do with our reactors, with a control rod we were using in a maintenance procedure. That’s what we were doing at the Primorskiy Engineering Center that night, Volkov. We were testing that damn control rod, and the man you were sent to look for, Fedorov, he was behind it all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once we suspected the control rod may have been the cause of these time displacements, he thought he could use it to go back and fetch that last missing man you uncovered in your inspection—Orlov.”
“Orlov… Yes, I remember now. He was listed as missing, the only officer on the ship casualty list.”
“Well he was missing—in 1942! Yes, we were there—the whole damn ship and crew—and Orlov jumped ship. Fedorov thought he would cause nothing but trouble if we left him there, and he hatched this wild scheme to go and fetch him. War was at hand, and we could not take the ship back again. Kirov was needed in the here and now, at least as we once held it in 2021. So we installed the control rod in the Primorskiy test reactor, and Fedorov went back. He was going to travel west on the Siberian Rail if he made it back safely, and apparently he did. So I suppose Kamenski and Kapustin had the right idea—just the wrong time. You were on his trail alright, Volkov, but some eighty years late. Fedorov did make it back to 1942 with that control rod. What I can’t understand is how you slipped in time.”
“Nor can I.”
“When did it happen again?”
“At that railway inn… Now I remember the name. Yes, the place was called Ilanskiy. I was searching every rail station and inn on the line.”
“And you had men with you up until then?”
“Yes. Then I went downstairs with a suspicious character I found hiding in a locked stairwell, and that is when the madness started.”
“Madness?”
“I met men there, as I said. They claimed to be NKVD.” Volkov related the entire story.
Karpov shook his head. “This is truly astounding. Could it be that place has something to do with your disappearance, your movement in time?”
“That had not occurred to me. It took me months to believe I was even sane. Yet, now that you mention this, that may be something worth investigating.”
Karpov paused, considering, taking this all in and accepting it, swallowing the impossible yet again. “It seems you and I have had a steady diet of madness and mayhem for some time, Volkov. Now I understand why they call you the Prophet. Well that makes two of us. You see how easy it was to use the knowledge we have and
seize power here. They tell me Stalin was killed in 1908—was that your doing?”
“No. I had nothing to do with that. But I think Kirov killed him.”
“Sergei Kirov?”
“Who else? Stalin and Kirov were going to be old friends one day—until 1934.”
“That explains why Kirov now controls the Bolsheviks. He was far more popular than Stalin, which is probably why he was assassinated.”
“Probably true…” Volkov took a deep breath. “Now what about us, Karpov? What about this little war we’re fighting here while the whole world is choosing sides and getting ready to go crazy out there.”
“I see you have allied yourself with Germany?”
“That seemed to be the thing to do at the moment.”
“But you know what happens, Volkov. Germany loses this damn war. The Axis powers are utterly defeated.”
“Perhaps. But who really beat the Germans in that war? We did! Russia! It was mostly our burden. The British and Americans stuck their thumb in the pie at the end, and wanted half of Germany for their trouble. That won’t happen now, not with the whole country back stabbing in this civil war.”
“Don’t sound so sanctimonious,” said Karpov. “What are your troops doing here in Omsk, eh? Renaming airships now, are you? Feeling comfortable here?”
Volkov smiled. “So you noticed. Well, don’t get your dander up, Karpov. Now that I know who you are things will change. As you say, we are cut from the same cloth, you and I. There is much we can accomplish together.”
That sounded like a good opening now, but Karpov knew he had to be cautious. “We have business here first, Volkov.”
“Yes, and I see you’ve moved more than this single battalion of the18th Siberians west.”
“You see much.”
“Don’t be surprised. I was an intelligence officer, remember? Very well, Karpov, you came here to see if we can settle matters, and I came here for the same reason. Let’s get on with it.”
“We can start with Omsk,” Karpov said quickly. “Kolchak lived here for years. He has a sentimental yearning for this place. Beyond that, we invested a great deal in getting the rail yards in order here—before you showed up with your Grey Legion last winter.”
“Life has its surprises, does it not?”
“Indeed, well Omsk must be returned. We begin with that. If you cannot agree, then we have nothing further to discuss.”
“I lost a lot of men last December trying to take this place.”
“You’ll lose a good many more trying to keep it.” Karpov folded his arms, adamant.
Volkov smiled. “I remember that face, that look, and the way you backed down the Inspector General with that load of Lozh about those missing men.”
“Yes, and I could see you were quite upset about it, but Kapustin had a head on his shoulders.”
“I suppose that is true. I was somewhat impulsive in my youth, but age and the careful winnowing of the soul that power brings to a man have changed me Karpov. Oh, don’t mistake me, you will find me as headstrong and determined as I always was, it’s just that age brings a certain wisdom. Yes? Very well, you can have your city back if that is what it will take to secure this border. Then we can turn our attention to more important matters once we bury the hatchet here.”
“You will withdraw all your units west of the river? Well west?”
“I’ll give the order tonight. We’ll pull back to the old border, in fact, I’ll quarter my men in Petropavlovsk and we can get away from these damn mosquitoes. Fair enough?”
“Done. We’ll reoccupy the city five days after you withdraw to make sure there are no incidents with the men. I’ll want a border checkpoint at Isilkul, and an outpost at Moskalenki, but other than that we’ll leave the border zone alone.”
“And what about the Tartars?”
“You noticed those as well, did you?” Now it was Karpov’s turn to smile. “Listen, Volkov. This war is only getting started. You have an arm full of it right now on the Volga, and you certainly don’t want us at your backside. For that matter, we’ll need troops in the east to stop the damn Japanese. I came in through Vladivostok. You wouldn’t recognize the place if you saw it now. They have warships in the harbor ten deep—troops all over the region. And you know they’ve moved into Mongolia as well.”
“They are biting off more than they can chew.”
“Of course. You and I both know where their real war effort will be directed soon, and how that turns out once the Americans get involved.”
“I suppose we do.”
“Yes, and so if I’m to restore what we’ve lost in the Pacific, first you and I have to come to an agreement. Let me be blunt. I can put half a million Siberian and Tartar cavalry in the field within six months. If I were to move west now in force the Tartars would rally to my banners by the tens of thousands from here to the Urals. Those are fast moving troops, and if we combine our airship fleets we can move thirty-six battalions, that’s three full divisions of regular infantry, and all in one lift, and Sergei Kirov has nothing that can stop us. With our airships and the cavalry I command we can move like the wind. I can swing up through Perm and secure your entire northern flank, or set it on fire and raise hell for you—the choice is yours.”
“Half a million? Yes, I suppose you could. But it’s 1100 kilometers from here to Perm. That’s a long way to go on horseback, and over very rugged terrain.”
“My horsemen live there. They know that country like the back of their hands. They’ll get there, and I’ll organized them when they do. Believe me, we will give the Bolsheviks fits. I can take Perm, and secure the Kama river line all the way to Kazan. Then we have the Urals, the resources, and when Hitler turns his panzers east Kirov will have nowhere to run when the Germans drive on Moscow.”
“You dream big, Karpov.”
“Of course I do. I know you think you will live forever, Volkov, but you won’t. Someone is going to have to take over when you go, and I’m your man. Kolchak won’t be around much longer either. You are not yet old, however. I can see that in spite of your age. With what we know now, the two of us can shape the course of events for the next twenty years. Then you can retire and leave the work to me.”
Kolchak gave him a narrow eyed grin. Then he did something unexpected, though it did not produce the reaction in Karpov that he thought it might. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a gun, aiming it right at Karpov’s chest.
“So you think you will inherit everything I have given half my life to build here, eh? I could put a bullet in your heart right now, order my airships to blow those overinflated balloons of yours out of the sky, and have that battalion you brought with you for breakfast!”
Karpov didn’t move a muscle. He just smiled. “Look under the table, Volkov. Before you can move a finger to release the safety on that pistol I could blow your balls off.”
At this Volkov laughed, releasing the tension, and he set his pistol squarely on the table now. Karpov drew his hand up from beneath the table and he, too, was holding a pistol, which he set right beside Volkov’s.
“I think we may have reached an understanding,” said Volkov. “And now I think we should put our pistols away and drink on it. I have some very good Vodka on ice in the next room.”
“Good, Volkov. Very good. Yes, I will drink with you now, and we have much to discuss. Oh… One other thing. Rename that damn airship, and have it done before I leave here today.”
At this Volkov laughed, reaching in his pocket again. But this time he pulled out a pair of good cigars.
Part V
Homecoming
“How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another… I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!”
― Lewis Carro
ll
Chapter 13
June 21, 1940
Kirov winked out a lamp signal in farewell as the ship turned north, easing away from HMS Invincible. In the heat of the battle they had made a very timely intervention. Just as the second air strike was vectoring in on the stricken Hood, five lethal S-400 SAMs had swatted the leading elements from the sky. Then a single P-900 had been sent directly against the presumed fleet flagship, the Bismarck, and its dramatic approach and impact had the same effect on Lindemann that it had on Hoffmann.
When Rodenko got the radar report that the Germans appeared to be breaking off to the north there was only one more consideration—Scharnhorst and Gneisenau had been hastening to the scene, and might arrive right on Tovey’s rear left flank. Approaching on that same flank, Volsky decided to put on speed, and show his silhouette to the Germans. The sudden appearance of the same mysterious ship he had seen earlier, along with Lindemann’s orders to alter course and withdraw, had been enough to cool the ardor of Hoffmann, eager as he was to lock horns with their adversaries.
“Don’t count the Germans out just yet,” said Fedorov. “They were not beaten here. Absent our intervention I would have given odds that the Kriegsmarine would have written a decisive victory into the history books in this engagement. My God, look at Hood!”
Once the pride of the fleet before HMS Invincible took those laurels, Hood looked like a beaten and broken fighter who had barely managed to hang on to the late rounds and was saved by the bell. Her B-turret was out of action, a boiler room severely damaged, her aft funnel all but shredded, leaving a constant pall of acrid smoke over the ship as it steamed pathetically along in Tovey’s wake. Admiral Holland was wounded, but would recover, as would many other senior officers, though Captain Glennie had been killed in action and the ship was currently being mastered by a relatively inexperienced Lieutenant Commander Warrand. Tovey made arrangements to immediately have a ranking officer flown out from Rosyth to Reykjavik to take over command of the ship, Captain Ralph Kerr.
Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States - Volume II (Kirov Series) Page 10