John Schettler - Devil's Garden

What was he about to do now, take on the entire world here? Was this blow meant to do harm, or good? Is this what he should do in this situation? He was clearly not at risk here. The ship was truly invincible in this era, and he did not expect to ever find himself in any situation they could not easily handle, as long as he kept a wary eye on his munitions and missile ordnance inventory, and used his power judiciously.

He could let these ships steam on their way… Sayonara. They obviously wanted nothing to do with his threatening ship and were doing the only thing a sane sea captain might consider by trying to slip away. Yet if he was to assert himself here as planned, and set history to rights, then he had to start somewhere. What was he doing here? Was he to be a man of peace, as he had lectured Troyak, or was he just a man of war, a mindless shark with the sharpest teeth in the ocean? Was he right to presume he could redress all the wrongs of the centuries yet to come? What was it that upstart American pilot had said to him before the Americans foolishly pressed that first attack on his fleet? Might makes right, the words of Iron Mike.

All that said and thought in his mind, he still felt compelled to do something that would get the attention of the current Japanese government. Yes, might makes right. If he gave them a pin-prick here it might save more pain in the end. He would at least give them the opportunity to comply before he resorted to any further action. With that thought in mind he decided to offer these steamers that one chance as well.

“Samsonov, fire a warning shot across the bow of that lead steamer. Nikolin-signal that if they do not immediately assume a course of 090 degrees east they will be sunk. One round please.”

“Aye, sir, firing now.”

The bow gun recoiled with a sharp crack and the round plunged into the sea ahead of the steamer, a relatively small splash in the water considering the huge mass of the ship that had fired. Kirov was merely clearing its throat.

Karpov was watching through his binoculars, hoping the Japanese Captain would not force him to better his aim and hit the ship. He saw the steamer make another ten point turn to starboard, but then it held steady on.

“Have they increased speed?”

Radar immediately reported. “Yes, sir. They have gone from eight to twelve knots.”

“Any further message from them, Nikolin?”

“No sir. But they are sending a distress signal now to any coastal station in range…. S.O.S… Tatsu Maru …Under attack.”

“They’re calling home for help. Well, that will do them no good, and I suppose we might achieve something more here by making an example of this ship. Very well, Mister Samsonov. Kiss that ship’s backside with the bow gun. Aim well and put a single round into them.”

Samsonov was quick to fire, and the round was equally quick to the target. Karpov saw it strike the aft quarter of the ship and bloom up in an angry explosion. The second steamer had turned completely about and was running as well.

A flash of anger bothered him as he waited, peering through his field glasses. The lead steamer was still trying to get away. Foolish little men, thought Karpov. Can’t they see what’s in front of them? He turned to Samsonov with a final order. “Sink that lead vessel with the bow gun. We’ll allow the other to pick up anyone who goes into the sea. After all, we aren’t monsters here, and these are non-combatants. But we must establish that our word is steel, we are men of steel, and that when we give an order it is to be obeyed. After that all should be well.”

Men of steel, thought Nikolin. Another man had called himself that too-Josef Stalin, the man of steel. So now we are a ship of little Stalins at large in an unsuspecting world. He wondered just how far the Captain was going to take things, but being a junior officer he knew it was not his place to speak up in this situation. He found himself wishing that Rodenko was here on the bridge. The Starpom was below decks on his relief shift, and the Captain had nothing more than his own internal muse for council.

Now the sound of the forward deck gun punctuated the still airs sharply-crack-crack-crack, and Samsonov methodically fired in tightly controlled salvos of three rounds each. He had a solid radar lock on the steamer, and within minutes Tatsu Maru was a flaming wreck. Nikolin looked to see hapless crewmen leaping from the fiery deck into the sea. It brought to mind the same image of men leaping from the devastated hulk of the Admiral Golovko when the American battleship had scored that lucky hit with one of its big main guns.

All it took was that single round, he thought. But the Captain does not seem in any way concerned here. He believes we are invulnerable, and perhaps we are. That said, the Japanese Navy here beat the entire Russian Pacific Fleet, and those ships must be harbored somewhere close at hand. Something told him he would soon be watching more men go into the angry sea, and he hoped he would not be one of them.

Rodenkopaid a visit to Doctor Zolkin on his relief shift. There he discussed their situation, and the Doctor was still struggling with the amazing notion that the ship had continued its regression in time.

“We seem to be on a long slide to oblivion,” he said. “1908? Why this year, I wonder?”

“No one knows. With Dobrynin and Fedorov gone we seem to have no real idea what is happening. The control rod was removed from the ship, but we still move in time whenever we are close to some massive detonation. First it was that damn volcano, and then that last warhead the Captain fired must have been a little too close.”

“Perhaps the Captain might refrain from flinging nuclear weapons about,” Zolkin dried his hands with a white towel as if washing the trouble away. “That, clearly has something to do with it. What’s been going on in the night sky? Has Karpov been testing more weapons?”

“The night sky? You mean the strange glow after dark. Yes, we have all wondered about it. At first we thought it was an after effect of our latest time displacement, but it should not last this long, and it appears to be coming from well over the horizon to the northwest, up in Siberia. But it has nothing to do with nuclear weapons, that I can assure you. Thankfully the Captain has ordered the warheads put in magazine storage. He thinks our conventional weapons are sufficient now.”

“Well, what does he intend to do, Rodenko? You aren’t here for a headache or cut finger.”

Rodenko smiled. “You are very observant, Doctor, and of late I have been closely observing the Captain as well. He has been under a great deal of stress since we left Vladivostok to confront the Americans in 2021. At times he appears to lapse into remorse and depression. Then he is suddenly energized with his old, willful ambition. I’m afraid the farther back in time we slip the more aggressive he may become. That little theater he staged at Vladivostok is a perfect example. He actually announced himself as the new Viceroy of the East!”

Zolkin laughed. “My, my. That man’s ego knows no bounds. Viceroy of the East? The Captain has been spoiling for a fight with someone he could push around for a good long while now. His only difficulty has been the fact that his enemies push back. We were a squadron of eight ships when we left Vladivostok, and now here we are alone on the sea again. The navy can do without commanders like this, in my opinion.”

“Well, doctor, now that we are here I believe the Captain intends to do considerably more. He says he wants to make Kirov the new flagship of Russia’s Pacific Fleet here.”

“What’s left of it. As I recall the history there wasn’t much left but a few old armored cruisers in Vladivostok.”