Kirov Saga: Altered States (Kirov Series) (2 page)

“Very strange,” said Volsky, still very disturbed by what had happened. “We will arrange for a sea burial ceremony at an appropriate time,” he said heavily. “We owe the man our lives many times over and, in spite of what he became in the end, we owe him at least that respect.”

“I agree, sir,” Rodenko said solemnly.

Volsky shrugged, looking about the bridge and seeing the men smartly at their stations again, which gave him heart “A fine day,” he said looking out the viewports at the sea. “This damage to the bow—will our speed be affected?”

“Byko has asked that we do not attempt to exceed 20 knots.”

“Is it repairable while we are underway?

“The flooding can be controlled, but to adequately repair the outer hull we will need to be in a stable environment. Dry dock would be best, but that is impossible. He thinks the divers could do something, but we would need to be anchored.”

“Well,” said Volsky, “until we know just where we are, I think it best to maintain a modest cruising speed. What is the status of our radars and electronics?”

“The
Fregat
system is returning out to a 50 kilometer radius at the moment. That seems to be gradually extending, almost as if we were in some kind of expanding bubble, sir. I think we should have normal coverage in about an hour.”

“What is our course?”

“We are hovering just off that island, Admiral.”

“Then let us set a course for Vladivostok at sixteen knots until we know where this time displacement has sent us. I think I would feel better in familiar surroundings.”

“I’ll get the ship moving , sir.” Rodenko moved off to instruct the helmsman.

As always, Fedorov huddled with Nikolin first, and the two men were monitoring signals all through the radio band. At first they had heard nothing more than the backwash of static, but now the garbled sounds of voice transmissions were picked up, though they could not make anything out yet. Like the radar systems, the radio was slowly recovering as the effects of the time shift wore off by degrees.

Oddly, it was the lookout on the main mast that Rodenko posted above the bridge that saw it first. There was something in the sky, a gleam of sunlight on a sleek surface, the yellow glint of light on metal. Just as the sighting was sent down to the bridge radar reported the contact close in, the operator shocked to see something this close unnoticed.

 “Someone is curious about us,” said Volsky. “It must have been just launched from beyond those hills.”

“Most likely, sir, or we would have certainly seen it this close on radar long ago.” This was very unexpected, but Fedorov immediately realized they should be in range to communicate with the contact. He asked Nikolin to switch to standard AM bands to see if they were picking anything up and, sure enough, there was a stream of unintelligible language in his headset on a low dial position.

“It’s Japanese,” said Nikolin, handing off the headset to Chekov, who spoke the language.

“They are asking us to identify ourselves,” said Chekov directly.

“Of course, what else,” said Volsky. “Well if they have a good telescope or a pair of field glasses they will have already seen the naval ensign flying from the main mast. I think it best to strike those colors. We do not yet know what our situation is and for all we know Russia and Japan may have not healed the rift Karpov opened here in 1908.”

“What do I tell them, Admiral?”

“Say nothing for the moment. I think we will just be on our way. Sixteen knots. No rush about it, but Mister Samsonov, if you would stand ready and see to the ship’s defensive systems that would be prudent—just as a precaution.”

“Aye, sir. Shall I come to condition two alert?”

“Not just yet. But be prepared in the event we run into anything unexpected.”

So they eased away, leaving silence behind them like the thin foaming wake on the sea; leaving the island and everything that had happened there behind them as they went. Signals traffic soon convinced Fedorov that they had not been able to advance much more than twenty years into the future.

“I’m not sure why, sir,” he explained to the Admiral. “It could be that the mass involved was too much to move. Remember that the test reactor in the Primorskiy Engineering center left a man behind. We were lucky that Rod-25 was able to move both
Kirov
and
Kazan
, but we’re not home yet.”

“Then we will try again,” said Volsky.

Kamenski had come aboard the ship in the last hour and so the Admiral convened a meeting in the officer’s stateroom to determine what to do. Chief Dobrynin had also come aboard to check on
Kirov’s
reactors and was seated with them to provide technical advice.

The old ex-KGB man spoke first. “We could find ourselves hopping through the cold war next if Rod-25 can only nudge the two vessels a few decades at a time.”

“That might be better than finding we are in another hot war,” said Volsky. “What do you suggest?”

“We have three control rods—two that have never been tested for this application. We might try one of those here on
Kirov
, and then see what Rod-25 can do with
Kazan
.”

“Chief?” The Admiral looked to his reactor engineer, giving him the floor.

“A couple things come to mind at once, Admiral,” he said. “First, while we have three control rods, I cannot be in two places at once to monitor the shift. I could control one shift, but the other ship would be on its own.”

“A good point. What are the dangers involved?”

“Perhaps none at all, sir. We could dip the rods and everything might work out just as we hope. Then again, given all that has happened, I tend to doubt that will be the case. The first problem we face is that the two rods may perform differently. Rod-25 is older, more weathered by continuous use, yet it has proven to be very reliable. It tends to pop into the 1940s every time it shifts, one direction or another, but it was able to get us home once, and it was also able to get us to 1908. One day soon, however, it will go the way of all spent control rods. There is a limit to the radiation it can absorb. It will have to be removed and retired.”

“The other two rods—they are completely new, yes?”

“Yes sir, they have never been tested, as Mister Kamenski indicated. So they could perform in unexpected ways, or perhaps even fail to perform at all. This remains to be seen.”

“What do you recommend, Chief? We must rely on your experience in these matters.”

“Well, sir, Rod-25 is beginning to present some telltale decay signatures in the absorption spectrum data. I was just looking that over and comparing it to logs from our earlier shifts with the rod aboard
Kirov
. I would not suggest trying to move both ships again, even if
Kazan
was right beneath us now.”

“I see… Then we must install one of the other control rods.”

“If we do this I recommend we leave Rod-25 aboard
Kazan
. It is radioactive, and difficult to manage. The other two rods are still inert, and much easier to transport and install here aboard
Kirov
.”

“You would use both rods?”

“No, just one at a time. But
Kirov
is a dual 24 rod reactor system. I could place these new control rods in the number 25 spot in each of those two reactors, so the second would be immediately available should it ever be needed. It takes several hours to install these rods, and we have been in situations where our displacement in time literally saved the ship from almost certain destruction.”

“This is a good plan,” said Kamenski. “But will the engineers aboard
Kazan
know what to do?”

“I have some well trained men over there. They can initiate the maintenance procedure easily enough, though controlling it is another matter. I think I would need to be here aboard
Kirov
when we attempt to use one of these new rods.”

“So that leaves
Kazan’s
shift to the roll of the dice,” said Fedorov.

“Perhaps,” said Dobrynin. “Yet this time
I
have a plan, Mister Fedorov. I thought that I might be able to use the recording of our last successful forward shift and extract that data. It will tell the engineers aboard
Kazan
what I did by way of adjustments to the reaction to produce a safe shift home. This is by no means a sure thing. They will not hear it as I do, but it would be like a template of a proper shift, telling them when to adjust the power, the speed, and how to respond to flux events. I cannot guarantee anything, but it may work.”

Volsky sat with that, thinking. “So we give them a kind of road map home in the data and hope they get there. That is very risky, but I do not see any other alternative. Yes, I agree that you will be best placed here to break in these new control rods. Who knows where we will end up? Everything about this entire affair has been one surprise after another. Something tells me that fate may have a few more twists and turns ahead for us. That strange balloon was one thing. What do you make of it, Mister Fedorov?”

“It could have been a weather balloon, sir, or just a simple observation balloon.”

“You are hearing radio signals now?”

“Yes sir, which means we have advanced beyond the era of simple telegraphy, though that is still in use in modern times. The presence of AM and FM signals is very telling.”

“Well, where are we?”

 “We have picked up Japanese and Chinese stations—a lot of ship to ship traffic, and some signals that could be coded messages on a military channel. Chekov has been on duty for the last two hours to translate as he can speak Japanese. Nikolin is listening for English. We have no firm dates yet, but I believe this is the early1940s.”

“How can you know this?”

“We received a transmission with what appeared to be a news feed out of Russia. I thought I heard the announcer speak of June 1940, but we got interference at that point. It came back and spoke of Orenburg and the war on the Volga. Then we lost it until the station signed off as the Soviet States of Siberia.”

“Very strange,” said Volsky.

“Then there was another clue, sir—music. We picked up a station in Manila playing the music of an artist known as Tommy Dorsy, a song called ‘I’ll Never Smile Again.’ It was announced as being in the number one spot this week and I checked that ship’s library. It released in June of 1940 and was 12 weeks in the number one spot.” He said that with a very disturbed look on his face, so obvious that it prompted the Admiral to prod him with humor.

“Don’t look so glum, Mister Fedorov. If this music does not suit your taste, perhaps Nikolin can share his files with you.”

“It’s not that, sir. Don’t you realize what this means?”

“Yes, yes, it means we are back in the soup again, and likely to run afoul of the Japanese Navy if we linger here.”

“That is the least of my concerns at the moment, sir. If this is 1940 as I suspect, then we are all in grave danger here, mortal danger, though it may not be from the Japanese fleet.”

“I don’t understand. Japan did not enter the war until December of 1941, or August of that year after our meddling. That is fifteen to eighteen months from now. There is no reason to assume they would be hostile. They would probably assume we were a British warship out of Hong Kong.”

“But sir…It’s not that. This situation is very unusual. Until the journey to 1908 we have always shifted to the 1940s at a point
beyond
our last visit there. If this is mid 1940, then that has changed and we are now here before the time of our first arrival. A year from now what happens in the North Atlantic? We were supposed to appear there, and that would not be possible if we are already here. So we cannot remain here. It is imperative that we leave before the time we first displaced here in July of 1941. Otherwise…Well I think something will have to happen to us if we remain.”

“Happen to us…That has a rather ominous tone to it, Mister Fedorov, but I believe I understand what you are saying now. There cannot be two ships, two crews, and heaven forbid two of me! So before the date of our first arrival here we must be elsewhere or suffer the consequences of that paradox.”

“Correct, sir. Remember that list of names Volkov got his hands on? There were no records on any of those men when we arrived at Vladivostok. It was as if they never existed.”

“And we could be added to that list if we remain here before the date of our first arrival.”

Chapter 2

Kamenski
had been listening closely and now he added his thought on the matter. “What you say is very interesting, Mister Fedorov, assuming this is the same meridian of time we were on before.”

That gave Fedorov pause. “What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean that much has happened to the world, and most of it our doing. This message you say you received—the Soviet States of Siberia? I have never heard of such a place. If something happened in 1908 to change the history, then the 1940s we find ourselves in now may not be the same as those you visited earlier.”

Fedorov took a moment to absorb that, but he realized Kamenski was on to something here. This was a time subject to the dictates of all the history that had come before it, and if Karpov did do something in 1908 to change the course of events…

“But I do not see how that is possible at the moment,” he said. Wouldn’t the history have to remain cohesive enough to give rise to the building of this ship? That would have to occur for us to even be here at this moment. It’s maddening, sir.”

“Yes it is,” said Kamenski. “Other men
have
gone mad over it—the Siren’s Song of time—yet we dare to sit here and listen, and it seems we have been bold enough to hum along as well! Remember that we remain loose variables at large in history until all these events reach some definite conclusion. We undertook the dangerous mission to try and reach the ship in 1908 and remove it from that time, and that we have done. But the job is not yet complete. We are still a needle in Mother Time’s finger as she darns her dress, and as long as we are here the possibility of changing everything that follows this moment still exists. That said, we must not be surprised to find that all the days between 1908 and this moment may have
already
changed, and that the world we sail in now is not the same one we left. I do not know if we can untangle that knot just yet, but at least we have a year before we would ever have to face that paradox you raise, which is plenty of time to shift elsewhere.”