Nemesis (9 page)

“There
you are, Fedorov.” Orlov’s voice was gruff and unfriendly.
“I’ve been looking all over the damn ship for you.”

Fedorov
looked over his shoulder in the officer’s mess, seeing Orlov and dreading the
encounter that was obviously now upon him. Yet he steeled himself, setting down
his tea and greeting the man, as he would anyone.

“Good
morning, Chief. Did you need me for something?”

Orlov
pulled out a chair, and plopped himself down opposite Fedorov, leaning a big
elbow on the table. “Dobrynin says you were snooping around down in
engineering. What have you been up to, Fedorov?”

“Up to?
Nothing, Chief. I was just asking Dobrynin how the reactors were doing after
what happened and all.”

“Oh? So
now you’re an engineer too? I thought you were the Captain—at least that’s the
way you’ve been acting around here. What’s with that big mouth on you now?
Karpov isn’t too happy with your little theater on the bridge. Something come
loose in that head of yours when you took that fall?”

“I know
what I saw, Chief, that’s all. So I spoke my mind. You don’t have to believe
me, but no, this is not theater. The situation is very serious.”

“Yes it
is….” Now Orlov leaned across the table staring at Fedorov in the way he would
often intimidate the crew. “You run your mouth on the bridge like that again
and I’ll make your life miserable for the next three months. Understand? And
what was that crap you told the Admiral to send on the radio? What was that,
Fedorov? Some kind of code word? Are you a stinking little
Zampolit
or
something? Karpov thinks so, and maybe I think so too.”

“
Zampolit?
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t
play stupid with me. You’re a conniving little shit, always hiding behind your
books and spouting off facts and figures like you were some kind of academy
instructor. Well the Captain doesn’t need your opinions on the bridge, and I’m also
tired of listening to you. When you take your damn station, mind your goddamned
business, and leave the ship to the senior officers, or I’ll run your nose into
that bowl of oatmeal.”

Fedorov
took a deep breath. He knew this was coming, as he had seen it a hundred times
before on the ship. Orlov would brood and bother a man until he had him well
cowed, and then he’d start getting physical, a push on the shoulder, the hard
poke of a finger on the chest, a cuff on the side of the head. The men took it,
as Orlov was Chief of Operations, with authority to make or break crew shift
assignments, and he could make a man miserable for months on end if he decided
to do so.

But
Fedorov was not the same man he had been when the ship first arrived. He had
been through too much, seen agony and fire, and the anguish of the world
twisted into this impossible new shape, with much of the blame for it to be
laid right at the feet of this man across the dining room table. He knew what
Orlov had done, and what he might soon do again, siding with Karpov in an
attempt to take the ship from Volsky, though he hoped that would not happen this
time. Beyond that, it was Orlov’s surly nature and his inherent discontent that
had seen him jump ship, jump from that helicopter in the Med, which set in
motion a chain of events that had led Fedorov to that railway inn at Ilanskiy,
and everything that followed.

He had
thought about this many times, blaming himself first, but also realizing that
he would have never found himself at that rail depot if not for Orlov’s
shenanigans. Then there was that incident in Siberia, the Devil’s Teardrop, and
all it led to. That had been a stroke of fortune, possibly the only thing that
had prevented the Germans, and Rommel, from running the British out of Egypt
earlier this year. Yet the implications of Brigadier Kinlan’s presence here in
this world were still too staggering for him to contemplate, and he had no way
of knowing whether this apparent saving grace for the British would lead to
something incomprehensibly dark in the years ahead. The real war here was only
just beginning…

So here
was Orlov, a key lever on all these events, and yet completely oblivious of his
part in it all. Even the Orlov he had known before
Kirov
made that last
shift seemed blithely unaware of all he had set in motion, and all the
consequences that now lay piled at his feet. He was still dawdling about as
always, happy to be reinstated as Operations Chief, still pushy with the men,
though many no longer would take his guff. And Fedorov decided the man he was
now could not take it either. So he leaned right across the table to meet Orlov
eye to eye, and spoke his mind here, even as he had on the bridge.

“Listen
Orlov, you lord it over the
matocs
and
mishman
below decks,
because they’ll take it, and there isn’t much they can do about it. Yes? But
I’m a Senior Lieutenant in the regular bridge rotation—lead Navigator. I’m an
officer, understand? With me its Russian naval regulations and command
protocols that do the pushing, not those big arms of yours. So don’t throw your
line about making my life miserable in the water here, because I’m not biting.
I was well within my rights to speak up on the bridge. Any officer there could
do the same. As for this business about my being a
Zampolit
, you know
damn well that’s nonsense. There’s more going on here than you realize just
now, but mark my words, you will understand it all soon enough. In the meantime,
don’t get any ideas about running your tough guy routine on me, because I
can
do something about it, and I will.”

Orlov
was momentarily stunned, for he had not expected any such resolve from Fedorov,
and he was genuinely surprised. Yet soon the flare of anger rose in him, as he
realized that this Lieutenant had just told him, in effect, to mind his own
business or go to hell. His face registered his displeasure, the anger evident
in his dark eyes.

“You
little shit,” he said darkly. “What are you going to do if I decide to stick my
fist in your mouth Fedorov, run to Volsky? You want to go see the Doctor again?
I can send you there.”

“Try
it, and I’ll bring formal charges for unlawfully assaulting a fellow officer.
You have no cause to lay your hands on me, or any other member of this crew,
for that matter. People turn their heads at the things you do on this ship,
because you get the work done, but believe me, the crew doesn’t like the
treatment you dish out, and they don’t like you either, Orlov. As for that
message I asked the Admiral to send, it was just a simple command protocol used
in the Royal Navy. Yes, I read about it in one of my goddamned books. That’s
who we were dealing with out there, and you could see what Karpov was working
up to as well as I could. He thinks this was a deliberate attack on us, but
he’s wrong. Once the missiles fly you can’t call them back. The Captain thinks
we’re at war, and he wants to join right in. The Admiral was disabled, and so I
felt it was my duty to speak. Use your head sometime, instead of those fists.
What if Karpov had fired on those British cruisers?”

He let
that hang there, and he could see how the implications finally registered on
Orlov’s face, behind the red anger he was barely managing to contain. Then his
eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms, leaning back, sizing up Fedorov in a new
light, as though he were someone he had never even met.

“Karpov
was right about you,” he said. “You aren’t the same, Fedorov. I’ll tell you
what’s odd here, he said to me—Fedorov. He gets that knock on the head and it’s
as if he’s not even the same man any longer. And now I see what he means. That
business about you being a
Zampolit
may not be too far off the mark,
whether you deny it or not. You know damn well that you would never run your
mouth like this with me before, unless you had cover. I guess you think the
Admiral will give you that, First Lieutenant.” He leaned heavily on that, the
derision obvious in his tone.

“Well
I’m an officer in the Russian Navy too, Fedorov—Captain of the third rank. You
see that third stripe here on my jacket cuff? See that nice big star on my
collar? Ever hear of insubordination? I can make a charge like that stick real
easy. So suppose I call your bluff and do something about all this—something
you won’t like at all?”

“Then
do it!” Fedorov actually raised his voice now. “And when you’re done, make sure
you have plenty of time set aside to write up your report, because you are
going to have to account for any action you take here, chapter and verse, we
all are. Karpov thinks we’re heading home to a board of inquiry now. If that is
so, then I’ll have to write my testimony up for the Inspector General, just
like he will… Just like
you
will, Chief of the Boat.”

Orlov
gave him a well practiced sneer, but Fedorov knew the worst was over now. He
had surprised the Chief by having the backbone to stand his ground, and like
all bullies, Orlov could sense real resolve when he saw it, and so he thought
twice about carrying out his threat, and Fedorov knew that.

“Big
Mister Fedorov,” said Orlov, shaking his head. “Well you are much more than you
used to be, and that’s clear enough. Karpov thinks you’re a little rat. He
thinks some kind of conspiracy is underfoot here, and maybe he’s right. Who
knows, maybe you
are
a stinking
Zampolit
after all. We may soon
find that out. And if you are, I’ll visit you again one day… count on that. In
the meantime, I’ll be keeping a very hard eye on you, Fedorov. I’ll be
shadowing every footstep you take. Understand? You don’t pull any shit here on
my watch, cause if you do, you won’t have those two stripes on your cuff for
very long. I’ll make certain of that. Yes, I write reports too. But you know
what we used to do with little rats like you on the street? Put them on report?
No, my friend. Going to run to Volsky? Little snitches like you come to a real
bad end.”

Now the
Chief just smiled, a glaring gloat of a smile as he slowly stood up,
deliberately knocking Fedorov’s tea cup and soiling the white linen tablecloth,
and Fedorov’s jacket cuff as well.

“Oh
my,” he said with a grin. “How clumsy of me. You going to write that in your
testimony Fedorov? Looks like I soiled your jacket cuff—by accident of course.
You going to lift another Captain’s coat like you did the other morning when
you showed up on the bridge? Who’s coat was that, anyway?” He gave Fedorov a
long look, and then started away. “See you around, Mister Senior Lieutenant.”

Fedorov
took a deep breath, sopping up the spilled tea with his linen napkin. That was
inevitable, he thought. Orlov didn’t have the guts to do what he was
threatening, so he swatted the teacup instead. That line I gave him about
writing up his report gave the man pause. Yet what he doesn’t realize is that
there will be no report, no inquiry, no Inspector General, at least not yet.
None of them realize that yet, but one day I will have to sit down and have
another long talk with the Chief. One day he will have to know what he did on
this ship, and after… They all will.

We’re
heading home, he thought. By now we’ll be up rounding the North Cape if we kept
on at 20 knots, and I did not hear the ship change speeds at all last night. The
North Cape… The Germans are there. They’ll have planes up, possibly even
U-Boats or destroyers on patrol as well. Things are coming to a head, and very
soon. How should I handle this?

I could
go to Volsky right now, and lay it all out for him. I could tell him what we
may soon be facing. Would he believe me, or would I sound crazy again? Zolkin
was watching me very closely the last time I was there. It was clear that he
was still trying to assess my mental condition after that fall I took. So I
need to be careful here, yet time is running out. I have to find some way to
convince the Admiral that what I am saying is true. The moon should have been
evidence enough. That single fact cements our position in time here, and with
no uncertainty. Did Volsky believe me? The Admiral is no fool. He’ll be
thinking about what I said. I’m sure of it.

If I go
now, and tell him what I think will soon happen when we round the cape, then
events may soon make the strongest possible case for me. The Germans are there,
and if they find us, then they will attack, I have no doubt about that. Then
Karpov will get what he’s been wanting all along, but he may be quite surprised
when no missiles come our way, and we get a flight of
Stuka
dive bombers
instead! Then he’ll get his little war, the war now, the war later. It’s all
the same. Once he was instrumental in trying to prevent what we know is going
to happen in 2021. He stayed his hand, and with a submarine threat, and that
took something in the man that may still be there. He hasn’t fallen into the
delusion that he can single handedly dominate the world yet—as long as he has
this ship…

But
he’s acting Captain now, and so I’ll have to be cautious with him, and play
things by the book. Yes, he may soon get his war, but it will be much more of a
fight than he realizes, for us, and for the Germans too. Better the Germans
than the Royal Navy if it comes to that. It’s what we decided, to stand with
Britain. So if we do run into trouble today, and Karpov opens fire, then we’re
at least likely to find ourselves on the correct side in this war. After all,
Britain is allied with the Soviet Union, but at the moment, they have no idea
of what has really happened here.