Nemesis

Author’s Note:

Dear
Readers
,

So
Fedorov survived the hour that was so long in coming, a bit bewildered, but
still his old self, with all his memories intact. Now he sits there aboard the
ship, knowing everything you know, and what may soon happen. Join him as he
struggles to forestall events that will rip the tattered fabric of time even
further, doing damage that not even Professor Dorland could ever hope to
repair.

And
another man has survived, twice! Karpov has been Fedorov’s nemesis from the
very first, yet now that threat is redoubled. You will soon see what the
Siberian has planned, and it promises to take us all along that darkened
pathway, through mayhem and madness.

Beginnings
are delicate times, for people, plants, and even stories. In many ways, the
events that brought us to
Doppelganger
are a new beginning to this long
tale, and so I must water that ground and till the soil a bit at the outset
here, to see what might grow. There will be a quiet echo in this new beginning,
a little sense of
déjà vu
, but then this new story takes on a life of
its own that will be much different. As always, the principle characters that
are the Prime Movers in all of this will take us forward.

And
then there is this war, with 1941 now wearing away, and the Germans coming to a
most important decision point in the course of these events. I will be showing
you all of that as well, and before this volume ends, we will be in the thick
of things on the Eastern Front.

Again,
many thanks for your loyalty to this story, and your continued support. When
Admiral Volsky addressed the crew in that last P.A. announcement before the
final shift, I was speaking through him to all of you. “We stand now aboard the
finest ship on this earth, and you are the finest crew to ever stand a watch at
sea, as god is my witness. And so I thank you—for your courage… for your
perseverance… for your steadfast loyalty… for
Kirov
…”

-
John Schettler

Part I

Devil’s Bargain

“A brave man
is a man who dares to look the Devil in the face and tell him he’s a Devil.”

―
James A. Garfield

Karpov
eased into the chair, feeling the plush cushion belying
the hard bargain he had come here to strike. He thought how strange it was that
the iron forging nations and empires was so often hammered here in the midst of
all this splendor and refinement. He looked at the gold rivets detailing the
furniture, the well lacquered table, the perfect sterling silverware, the well
styled samovar there. The carpet was thick beneath his feet, a measure of
respect he had gained now that the fate of Soviet Russia might lie within his
compass rose. He took one last look, admiring the high arched ceiling and
crystal chandelier with a smile.

The
reception had been even grander than before, a full honor guard, the Moscow
Band, all diplomatic protocols reserved for proper heads of state. Yet he was
under no illusions in spite of the gilded surroundings he found himself in.
This was another kind of war here, he thought, and I am here to win.

“The
General Secretary of the Soviet State of Russia!”

The
tall door opened, easily three times the height of the man that now walked
through it into the room, and Karpov stood as he entered, one hand holding his
leather gloves, which he had correctly removed for the handshake that the two
men would now exchange. So it begins, he thought, with an open hand to show
that no weapon is held, a willingness to find tryst with reason and common
interest, a gesture of good intentions.

Kirov
strode up, wearing the same grey suit and trousers as Karpov had remembered him
before. His smile was warm and genuine, but the eyes… yes, the eyes seemed
deeper set in his round face, the hair just a little unkempt, the cheeks just a
little more taut.

“Vladimir,”
said Kirov, “bold enough to use his guest’s first name as the two men shook
hands. “It has been too long since I welcomed you here. Forgive me, but as you
might deduce, I have been somewhat busy in the last few months.”

“No
doubt,” said Karpov. “Uninvited guests for dinner can be most unsettling.”

“Particularly
when they ride in on tanks and dive bombers,” said Kirov, gesturing to the
chair as the two men seated themselves at the table. “May I offer you tea?”

“Thank
you,” said Karpov, watching the slow, deliberate pour, and noting that there
was just the slightest tremor in the other man’s hand now. Kirov nodded
agreeably, and the two men raised the cups to drink, no toast spoken, as such
would never be offered with tea. This was just the opening, he knew, the vodka
comes later, assuming we can reach an understanding here, assuming I get
everything I came here for, and one thing in particular. This will be very
interesting.

“You
are wondering when we plan to open the offensive on the upper Volga.” Kirov
wasted no time getting the talks started.

“The
thought had crossed my mind,” said Karpov. “My Guards have already secured a
bridgehead north of Ufa, and I have fifteen divisions there now.”

“Excellent,”
said Kirov. “Just as you promised. And the volunteers you sent me were also
very timely, but quite frankly, we need more. Our counterattacks have been ill
timed, and largely unsuccessful.”

“Tanks,”
said Karpov. “You must have several tank corps positioned behind the intended
point of breakthrough, armored chariots to race through the gaps and raise hell
beyond. Otherwise the advance is limited to the speed of your ground troops.”

“A
lesson I have now learned well enough,” said Kirov. “Yet building those tanks
takes time. I thank you for your preparations on the upper Volga.
Unfortunately, I must tell you we have no immediate plans to attack there any
time soon.”

“Oh?”
Karpov raised an eyebrow. “And why not?” he asked, though he knew the answer to
his question well enough. Tyrenkov had briefed him very well before this
meeting, and he knew that the situation in the south was now very grave. The
Germans had taken Kiev and were massing again to continue that offensive. If
they broke out, and Karpov knew they would, then the entire line of the Dnieper
would be compromised.

“Trouble
in the south,” said Kirov matter of factly. “They have a strong group in the
Dnieper Bend between Dnepropetrovsk and Zaporozhe. Beyond that, Volkov’s little
offensive over the Volga has required attention. It was necessary to move the
51st Reserve Army there to contain that attack. Now we plan to take Kamyshin
and tidy things up.”

“We
needed that army in the north,” said Karpov. “There is no way we can mass
sufficient force to break Volkov’s 1st Army defense line without it.”

“Unfortunately,
the danger is on the Dnieper now, and I must focus all my attention there. My
generals have told me it is too early to plan this big attack against Volkov,
and now I must listen to them. In truth, I should have dealt with that bastard
in 1940, before the Germans massed to attack.”

“We
weren’t ready,” said Karpov. “There was that squabble over Omsk, and those
foolish Zeppelin raids Volkov mounted. I nearly had him by the cheek, Kirov. I
was that close to catching that old rat, but he managed to slip away.”

“I’m
told you took heavy casualties.”

“He
took worse,” said Karpov quickly. “And if he dares another little foray like
that, he’ll get the same treatment again. “My airship building program is
advancing nicely. I’ll be adding another T-Class ship this month, and we have
two more under construction. But that is one thing I have come to ask of you
today. Can you spare your northern airship fleet? There is little activity
there, and I could put those ships to very good use.”

“Considering
your commitment on the upper Volga,” said Kirov, “I will cut the orders today.
You can have both the
Riga
, and the
Narva
.”

“Excellent.”

“Yet I
have a few requests myself,” said Kirov. “Don’t be discouraged over this
cancelled offensive. Your men can still play a most important role there now.”

“In
what way? We cannot attack alone. We simply have no armor to speak of, and
artillery is very thin.” Karpov was running down his list of hardware now,
things he hoped to secure from these negotiations, which seemed headed the
right direction, in spite of the disappointment of having to cancel the upper
Volga offensive.

Kirov
took a long sip of tea. “I want you to extend your frontage from the river to
Artemyevsk.”

“What?
You mean to hold a defensive line?”

“Correct.
I need to pull out the 50th Army as well, and if your men can take over their
positions…”

“I
see,” said Karpov. “The situation in the south is worse than you let on.”

“At the
moment we are holding, but that may change. That German SS Korps has given us
fits. It has led the assault from the very beginning, and those troops are damn
near impossible to stop. I’ve thrown one army after another onto the line, and
they cut right through like a buzz saw through bad wood.”

“So now
you want to throw the 50th Army into the lumber mill,” said Karpov, trying to
feign disapproval. Then he adopted a well rehearsed pose, nodding his head, for
Tyrenkov had told him of the orders cut to 50th Army to make ready to move by
rail, and he knew this four days ago.

“Then
there will be no offensive on the upper Volga for some time,” he said feigning
dejection. “That is not unless I conduct it with Siberian troops. I would
willingly do so, but as I have said—we need tanks and artillery badly, and air
support.”

“Suppose
I promised you all three in abundance,” said Kirov, pressing on to his next
agenda item. “We are planning the formation of several new shock armies. Zhukov
has convinced me that we must build up strong reserves, and if we ever do plan
to take the offensive, we will need good shock troops to lead the way. Yet at
the moment, all my reserve divisions are being pulled into the front, from
Smolensk to the Sea of Azov. But if you have the manpower, good fighting men
and officers, then I can equip them. How does First Siberian Shock Army sound?”
There was a glint in Kirov’s eye, as this was the principle thing he needed
from Karpov now. He was already raising divisions as fast as he could, but he
needed to prepare some stronger reserve force to plan for his winter offensive.
So he quickly explained.

“We
won’t be able to attack until winter,” he said. “When the snows come, we can
get over the frozen rivers better, and we know how to fight in the cold. Yes,
General Winter is coming to our side soon, but he needs men, Karpov. He needs
the hard fighting Siberians! So this is what I propose. You send me the
volunteers. We can marshal them at Perm, Kazan, or even Gorky. I’ll give them
rifles, machineguns, mortars, artillery, transport—hell, I’ll even give them
skis. I want to build five Shock Armies, and they will put you right in the
heart of our winter offensive.”

“Where?”
said Karpov, thinking.

“That
we cannot yet say,” said Kirov. “Who knows where the front will be when the
time comes to commit these armies?”

“You
plan to use them against Volkov?”

“Against
the Germans as well. They will form our joint strategic reserve.”

“Under
my command?” Karpov inclined his head, and Kirov knew this was the real
sticking point.

“I
thought you were a navy man,” he began. “Yes, you’ve managed to hold Volkov at
bay on the Ob River line, and I have no doubt that if you were to command the
force I envision building, that you would crush him there. But that is far from
Moscow, Admiral.” The use of the title deliberately underscored Karpov’s naval
background. “To be forthright, I was considering Konev. He’s fought well in the
Caucasus, a veteran field commander.”

Karpov
was clearly not happy to hear this, and now the look on his face was not
rehearsed. “You want to raise five new armies, and with Siberian troops, and
give them to Konev? Kolchak will go ballistic.”

“Kolchak?”
Kirov restrained a laugh. “You and I both know he isn’t going to end up running
things in Siberia. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve kept him around for so long.”

Now
Karpov took a moment to consider. He had only just given Tyrenkov orders to
plan the removal of Kolchak. Could Kirov’s intelligence teams have picked that
up so soon? He most certainly had men in Siberia—probably right there where I
set my headquarters at Ilanskiy. They were undoubtedly reporting back on the
progress of my restoration of that railway inn, but how much did Kirov really
know?

“What
you say is correct,” he began slowly. “Kolchak is an idiot, and a nuisance.”

“That
is an understatement. The man is a Capitalist masquerading as a patriot. He had
the temerity to declare himself Supreme Ruler of all Russia! He’s turned
nationalized farms and factories back over to their private owners, abolished
trade unions, disbanded Soviet Cadres, re-instituted laws guaranteeing private
property. The man is more than a nuisance. That little display he put on in
Yekaterinburg should be enough to see him hanged—25,000 killed and tortured
under his anti-Bolshevik edicts. Now he’s worried about the Japanese, while
Germany devours half the nation! They are all alike, Kolchak, Kornilov,
Denekin, Wrangel, and Volkov. They are all traitors to their own homeland, and
to the Revolution.”

“Yes,”
said Karpov, “Kolchak is worried about the Japanese. He was a hero during the
Russo-Japanese war, but any fool can read a map and realize they have no
further ambitions in Siberia. No. They will strike south, as you well know.” He
gave Kirov a knowing glance, as he had suspected for some time that the Soviet
leader had learned more of the history of this war than he ever let on.

“Of
course they will strike south, yet not for many months. By that time I would
expect you will have taken care of the Kolchak matter, and that will allow you
to take full control of all Siberian war resources—all the divisions Kolchak is
wasting in the Trans-Baikal region. You’ll know what to do with them. If you cannot
wait for our support on the upper Volga, then you can move troops from that
front to your Ob River line. Be a general there, if you wish.”

“But
hand over troops to build five armies for Konev and stay out of things—is that
it? This is what you asked this meeting for?”

Now
Kirov set his tea aside, folding his arms. He looked Karpov squarely in the
eye, and spoke. “Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “And I’ll be frank and say
one more thing, Karpov. You’re a bit of a devil from my perspective. I would have
outmaneuvered Kolchak soon, were it not for bigger fish to fry in Volkov. Then
you come on the scene, from nowhere, and we both know that isn’t too far from
the truth. You come on the scene, and suddenly all of Western Siberia is up in
arms in a way Kolchak could have
never
engineered. You’re a sly devil
too, working quietly behind the scenes and posing as an Admiral with your
little airship fleet. But what you really want is power on the ground, which is
why the thought of sending me the troops to build five shock armies, and then
giving them to Konev, is so disagreeable to you now. Yet it is either that or
you can continue raising these Cossack and Tartar cavalry regiments, and we
both know how far they will get you in this war.”

The
man’s honesty stung for a moment, and Karpov restrained the urge to hit back,
for this wasn’t the time or place to square off with Sergei Kirov.