John Schettler - Paradox Hour

“What is this you say?” said Volsky.

“You remember how Turing claimed his favorite watch went missing, only to reappear in those file boxes containing evidence of our earlier time displacements? They appeared at the same time we arrived here, in June of 1940, but time had a problem with that. You and I both know that everything in those files was created in the future, mostly in 1942 from the dates on the material. Everything in those boxes then moved to 1940—including the watch. Apparently Turing must have had the watch with him while he was working on those files in 1942. Who knows, perhaps it slipped and fell into one of those file boxes. When they moved here, strangely following in our wake, there would have been a problem. Unlike the files, that watch was already here. It existed in June of 1940, and so how could it travel back inside one of those file boxes? It was a paradox, and look at the way time handled it. Turing’s watch went missing. It simply vanished, until it turned up later in that file box. We vanished the same way, the ship, all of us, because we face the same paradox.”

“Yet we thought we would have until July, Fedorov. We first shifted on July 28th, during those damn live fire exercises. You are saying this is not so? This paradox business has already happened?”

“Perhaps. It may have merely been the ship’s instability in time that provoked this latest shift. In that case, perhaps Time is just taking advantage of that to sort things out.”

Then this is the result?” said Volsky. “Lenkov? That warped deck over there where your boots are still stuck? Men missing?” He shook his head. “I know you cannot know any of this for certain, Fedorov. Forgive me if you hear any blame in my tone. I mean none. If these are the consequences of our actions here, we may never know why some are missing, while we still remain. A pity we don’t have Kamenski to weigh in on this.”

Now Fedorov remembered what he had found on that nightstand. He reached into his pocket, feeling the key, his mind returning to that piece of this shattered puzzle.

“Kamenski left something behind,” he said, drawing out the key. “I found it on the nightstand, just sitting by the lamp.”

“That is one of those mysterious keys, is it not?” asked Volsky. “If I understand correctly, one was responsible for moving the Argos Fire —displacing it in time, just like Rod-25. Yes?”

“Not exactly, Admiral. I asked Miss Fairchild about this, and she believed it was the box that moved the ship. The key merely activated it. In fact, she said she believed there was a fragment from the Tunguska Event in a hidden compartment of that box. I do not know how she would come to that conclusion, but apparently British intelligence knew about the odd effects surrounding Tunguska, and we both know what Orlov found there…”

“Only too well,” said Volsky. “But I don’t like this, Fedorov. That thing might be part and parcel with what we are dealing with now. What if you turn up missing next, just like Kamenski?”

“I don’t think the key caused his disappearance,” said Fedorov. “It was placed on the nightstand, as if he had deliberately left it there to be found. If Kamenski just vanished, and the key was all that remained behind, why wouldn’t I have found it in some haphazard place, perhaps on the floor, or chair where he often liked to sit and do his reading. No. I think he meant to leave it behind, and meant for us to find it if that is so. Fairchild seemed to think these keys were very important sir. In fact she claimed to be their keeper, on a mission to recover any known key they could find. That was what this rendezvous with Rodney was for, but when I last spoke with Director Kamenski, he told me Fairchild was mistaken. She was not the keeper of those keys—Kamenski said he was!”

“What? You mean he knew about these keys all along?”

“Yes sir, he said he had been a Keyholder for over thirty years. Apparently the KGB found this that long ago, and he’s had it in his possession ever since.”

“Remember what I said earlier, Fedorov. There’s more to that man than we know. But I don’t suppose that key will unlock the dilemma we now find ourselves in. We still don’t know our position, in space or time. What are we going to do about this situation?”

“We should look after the crew first,” said Fedorov. “We know men are missing. There may be others we do not know about—others we’ve forgotten.”

“Yes, we must count heads,” said Volsky. “Yet a few minutes ago no one here even remembered Tasarov. Taking roll call is going to be a bit of a problem under these circumstances.”

“Perhaps we can check all the ship’s records,” said Fedorov. “I’m beginning to think these changes are still underway, a process that has not reached completion. If that is so, there may be some record or clue that can help us. I suggest we start with the ship’s primary roster, and see if Orlov and the other missing men are still listed there. Yes, we might find some evidence—particularly the digital records. All the electronics seemed unphased by this last event… except the Purser’s computer. He had no record of any assignment to Kamenski’s quarters. I think we must act quickly now. Whatever seems to be happening to the ship and crew might still be underway. Mister Nikolin, see if you can find the ship’s roster in a digital file, then compare it to any printed physical roster we have. Check for discrepancies. Check everything.”

“Then we will finally have a count on the empty chairs,” said Volsky with a somber tone.

“As to where we are, and what happens next,” said Fedorov, “I do not think we can just sit here, waiting for the axe to fall. What? Will we watch people disappear, one by one? It feels like we are sitting here with all our heads on the chopping block, waiting for the executioner, or worse. No. I think we must do something. We still have those two control rods. Remember what we discussed? Time to go to Plan B.”

“But Fedorov,” said the Admiral. “Chief Dobrynin is gone. We have no one who can listen to the event, the reactors—no way to control the outcome.”

“We had no control over this the first time we displaced,” said Fedorov. “In fact, it wasn’t until we reached the Pacific that we put two and two together and figured out Rod-25 was responsible. I say we should just get on with the maintenance procedure, and see where it takes us. Anywhere would be preferable to this nightmare. We must try and take our fate into our own hands.”

“Spoken like a good ship’s Captain,” said Volsky. “If we end up in the Himalayas, sitting on some lonesome peak like Noah’s Ark, then we’ll all have a good meal, and hike out.”

Fedorov nodded, as he could think of no real reason why they should not try—aside from the possibility they might end up inside the Himalayas, which he had suggested to Volsky earlier, though he said nothing of that now.

“I think we must hurry sir,” said Fedorov, with more urgency. “We’ve got to take some action before it’s too late! These events are still unfolding. The longer we delay, the greater our peril.”

“Very well,” said Volsky. “Now that I notice all these stripes on my jacket cuff, I think I will start giving some orders. Mister Nikolin, get back to your station and dig up those digital files, but first send a message to the reactor room. Tell whoever is in charge that they are to retrieve the Beta control rod from storage and re-mount it in the number twenty-five reserve rod position. They are to prepare for normal rod cycle maintenance, to be initiated on my order, or that of Captain Fedorov or any senior officer on the bridge. Hopefully, no one else will be leaving soon…”