John Schettler - Armageddon

“The young woman I met there-I think she was the proprietor’s daughter-in any case, she told me those stairs were haunted, and she seemed to fear them.”

“Perhaps because people may have unknowingly taken that stairway before, and suddenly appeared in her hotel!” Kamenski had a wry smile on his face. “But Sergei Kirov! I have lamented his assassination all my life. Who knows how Russia might have developed had he been elevated to General Secretary of the party instead of Stalin.”

Fedorov gave him a furtive glance. “I think I should tell you that I said something to him that I may now have to regret.”

“Oh? What was that, young man?”

“I…well I warned him not to go to St. Petersburg in 1934. I told him to beware the 30th of December! I know it was foolish, but I just couldn’t help myself. He was always a hero to me. That is one reason I applied for an assignment aboard Kirov.”

Kamenski smiled. “It was called Leningrad when he was killed there, of course you know that, but it may interest you to know that he was assassinated on December 1st, and not on the 30th. That was the way it happened the first time. Then things changed.”

“What do you mean?” said Volsky. “Are you saying there are two versions of the event?”

“Just as there are two dates for the American entry into WWII. Yes, in another meridian of time Sergie Kirov was assassinated on December 1st. Yet Mister Fedorov is also correct. The history he knows will have that date set as the 30th.”

“Just a moment, Director,” said Fedorov, a troubled look on his face. “It’s clear to me that we caused the Americans to enter the war early, yet I would have told anyone that Kirov was assassinated on the 30th even before we left Severomorsk.”

“That is the date I remember as well,” said Volsky.

“Yes, and many others will have that date in their heads,” said Kamenski. “But this old head remembers it on the 1st of December. A few of the Party elite would celebrate it quietly, behind closed doors. I have drunk many a toast to Sergie Kirov on that day. But the people I can raise a glass with are now are few and far between.”

Fedorov was very surprised now. “But that would mean…”

Kamenski looked at him, again with that wry smile. “Go on,” he said, waiting.

“Well that would mean something happened to change the history even before Kirov left Severomorsk!”

“You are very astute, my young man. Yes. That is exactly what it would mean. There may be only a small handful of people who know what you have just concluded-and know it to be a fact and not mere speculation. I happen to be one of them, and I have lived with that knowledge for a very long time.”

Admiral Volsky thought this might have something to do with the strange time shift effects that were discovered after the massive Tsar Bomba detonation. “Tell him about the Kuz'kina Mat,” he said, wagging a thick finger. “Tell him about the Tsar Bomba!”

“Yes, that was what Khrushchev called it, Kuz'kina Mat, Kuzka’s Mother. The CIA called it ‘Joe 111,’ and I knew it as Project 7000, but I suppose it was the real ‘mother of all bombs.’ There has never been a bigger one. Well, you will be surprised to learn, Mister Fedorov, that we first came to understand that time displacement was possible as early as October 30, in the year 1961, on the day that bomb went off. That was sixty years ago, and I was a very young man back then.”

He explained how they realized nuclear detonations could cause tears in the fabric of spacetime, and Fedorov listened intently, hearing the details of this now, even though Chief Dobrynin had disclosed some of this to him earlier.

“Then have we done this before? Have we moved things in time?”

“We have tried,” said Kamenski. “Sometimes without success, and other times without even knowing or intending it, as in the case of your ship vanishing last July. Yet the real question you wish to ask is something more, Mister Fedorov. You want to know what could have happened to change the course of history-not by much, just a month in this case between the first and thirtieth of December in 1934, but in that brief interval lies a profound mystery. Yes?”

The last of the three helicopters arrived on Admiral Kuznetsov, this one carrying the prize, Admiral Volsky, Kamenski, and Rod-25. Fedorov and Troyak brought one spare rod on another helo, and Dobrynin and Orlov accompanied the third, with Zykov riding along for security.

The Admiral came dressed in a simple Lieutenant’s uniform, and he gave orders that nothing was to be removed from the helicopter for at least an hour, knowing the Americans would be watching the ship closely from space.

“I know very well how good their spy satellites are,” said Kamenski. “Ours are good as well. I have read headlines on newspapers using satellites in space! This is a wise precaution. Seeing the Admiral of the Fleet get off a helicopter here would certainly raise a few eyebrows.”

“Yes, and this uniform makes me feel young again,” said Volsky, smoothing out his jacket sleeve. “We are going to put on a little show for the Americans,” he smiled. “Of course they have been watching us very closely since that last engagement. At present we believe they think Kirov was destroyed along with the other ships that vanished after that demon of a volcano erupted. Well enough. They have seen us withdraw the Admiral Kuznetsov and they are watching that ship very closely. Kazan has replenished secretly in the underground submarine tunnels, but they will be looking for her. I have no doubt that they are watching with satellites in spite of the ashfall and cloud cover. The area north of the volcano has not been affected much. Therefore it would be most unwise to attempt to surface that boat to take on our special cargo.”

“Then how will we get there?” asked Kamenski.

“We are going to have to use a submersible rescue vehicle, The AS-28 is available and we can move it into the Admiral Kuznetsov task force for the show I have planned.”

“Where is Kazan?” asked Fedorov.

“Right beneath Admiral Kuznetsov! The Americans have been looking all over for that submarine, but to no avail. They have been trying to get a peek at my cards, but I have stacked my last two Aces, even though I risk losing both to a single warhead. Yet I reason if that were to happen, then the worst would be upon us and it would be down to the strategic missile forces in the end. So I have hidden Kazan below the carrier. Now we must arrange a little theater. The Americans will be watching us, so I am moving one of the diesel subs into the region quietly as well. Our Submarine Rescue Vessel Sayany can carry the AS-28 submersible to the scene, and we can quietly load the control rods aboard at night. We board the AS-28 and let it move out a few kilometers on the surface with the Sayany. Then we submerge with it and maneuver back to Kazan. After we have successfully boarded the sub with our cargo, then we’ll send the AS-28 back to Sayany and surface the diesel boat right there for the Americans to see.”

“Ah, very clever, Admiral,” said Kamenski. “You will make it seem like the AS-28 was performing some kind of rescue operation on the diesel submarine, perhaps delivering some needed part or piece of equipment.”

“Precisely, and while they are watching the show, Kazan can slip quietly out the back door and head for the Sea of Japan.”

Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska, was a very busy place that morning. Once the center of the US Strategic Air Command (SAC) it was a warren of underground bunkers and command facilities that were now the heartbeat of the U.S. Strategic Command, (USSTRATCOM). Over the years it had seen some memorable events in both war and peace, and had been heralded in film and fiction for its strategic importance in time of national crisis. Henry Fonda was there in the cold war classic “Fail Safe” and Peter Sellers held forth there in Doctor Strangelove as he learned to love the bomb.