John Schettler - Kirov III - Pacific Storm

“Yes, yes, what about Orlov,” Volsky repeated. “God only knows what he might be up to if he did survive as we now suspect.”

“It’s a real problem, sir. Before we had the chronology, and certain knowledge of every enemy we faced, right down to the exact ships and numbers of planes in each task force. Now I’m not so sure, and as serene as these waters may now seem, this theater of the war was a titanic naval struggle.”

“Yes, but these variations you reported from our operations in the Med—they were minor, were they not?”

“Seemingly so, sir, though they brought us within range of 15 inch guns…” He let that sink in for a moment, and Volsky nodded his understanding.

“Suppose we do return to the 1940s. Suppose we are even marooned there indefinitely. After all, this stone skips only so far on the water, Fedorov. It must land somewhere.”

“Right, sir. If the interval holds, then we might skip slightly forward again, perhaps to 1943 or even 1944. Action in this region was mostly over by May of 1942 with the conclusion of the Battle of the Coral Sea. That was the Japanese attempt to take Port Moresby on New Guinea, and it resulted in the first carrier to carrier battle of the Pacific war. The Americans lost the Lexington , a high price to pay, though they sunk a light Japanese carrier and hurt the Shokaku , one of their bigger fleet carriers as well—and they stopped the invasion. That said, sir, I can’t even be certain that battle was even fought now.”

“What do you mean? Not fought?”

“America enters the war three months early, sir. At least I assume as much. It was our destruction of their Task Force 16 in the Atlantic, and the sinking of the Wasp that most likely prompted a declaration of war against Germany. If Japan sided with the Axis powers, then they had no reason to launch the Pearl Harbor attack if war began here in the Pacific at that same time.”

“Yes, I recall our earlier discussion on this.”

“Well don’t you see how significant that is, Admiral? If there was no attack on Pearl Harbor, then the whole chronology of the war at sea in the Pacific might have been severely altered. Major battles like Coral Sea and Midway might not have occurred. These are much more significant events than the early deployment of a few Italian cruisers in the Med, or even the movement of those two battleships to La Spezia. If there was no Pearl Harbor attack, or no operation against Midway, it would change everything. It could even be the real source of the variation in the history that has led to the war we read about in those newspapers.”

Suppose this interval holds true and we land here in 1943. What lies ahead?”

“We will have some real trouble on our hands if we stay on this course, Admiral. The Americans and Japanese were still locked in a bitter struggle for the Solomons, at least in the history I know.”

“You are speaking of Guadalcanal?”

“Well by February of 1943 that island had been secured, but the action shifted northeast to New Georgia and by August there was fighting for Vella Lavella, and also action in New Guinea as MacArthur drove on the vital airfield at Lae, and then against the Bismarck Barrier.”

“Ah yes,” said Volsky. “MacArthur, Halsey, Nimitz and Yamamoto. All circling one another like a pack of great sumo wrestlers.”

“Yamamoto would have been killed in April of 1943, sir. But I can’t be sure of this any longer. The history may no longer be reliable. If any one of these major battles was not fought, then there is no telling what might be happening in this theater, and that being the case, it won’t be as easy to pinpoint our location in time.”

“I see why you have been brooding so long over this, Fedorov. Your history has been all fouled up, and you’ve lost your way—we all have lost our way. Now I’m afraid we will have to yield that god-like advantage we had of knowing the enemy’s every move. It evens things out somewhat, yes? Something tells me that both the Japanese and Americans will prove determined and dangerous foes in this theater, and we would be wise to avoid them and look for our island somewhere else. Perhaps we should reverse our course now and seek out safer waters.”

“That might be wise, Admiral. Ahead lies the Torres Strait, the Coral Sea and the Solomons. Those were all violent war theaters in 1942 and 1943.”

“Maybe we should have sailed south of the Australian continent.”

“Indeed, sir. But who can say? We are still not sure where we are—in time that is.”

“Yes, but you have that inner misgiving gnawing at you, Fedorov. It is just like my tooth when we get up north in the Arctic Sea. I’ve learned to pay attention to it, and so I take your warning here to heart. We will reverse course.”

It was a sound and wise decision, they both knew, but one that would never come to pass. Rodenko was suddenly alert, his eyes fixed on his primary long range radar screen, and very intent.

“Signal returns again,” he said quickly.

Both Volsky and Fedorov came to his side, their eyes searching the screen. “Where?” asked Volsky, squinting at the milky green readout of the radar.

“Here,” Rodenko pointed. “About 175 miles northwest of our position. It looks like a weather front developing, but then I lose it and everything is clear—no signal and no weather front.”

Volsky walked slowly to the starboard side of the bridge and peered through the viewport. The day was clear and warm, the pristine waters of the sun dappled Timor Sea stretching out behind them to an empty horizon. He watched for some time, thinking he saw the barest glimpse of white cloud there, but all seemed well.

“Here, sir,” said Fedorov. “We have another signal.”

The Admiral hastened back in time to see the cloudy returns of something building on the northwest edge of their radar scope. He craned his neck toward the viewport again, thinking to see telltale signs of a weather front.

“There, Admiral,” Rodenko pointed. “Do you see them. That’s a formation of aircraft. Look at the structure. It can be nothing else.” The signal quavered, clouded over, and then was gone again.

“We’re pulsing,” said Fedorov in a low voice, “shifting in and out of some more definite time frame.”

“If we only had some point of clear reference we might spot changes in the environment around us,” said Volsky, “but we are too far off shore. The ocean looks the same in every direction, and that distant coastline is lost in haze at this hour.”

“That’s Melville Island up ahead, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “We’re just west of the Beagle Gulf that would take us into Darwin.”

“What about the weather front?” said Rodenko. “It was the same way the first time. The weather changed abruptly.”

“Are you sure your equipment is sound?”

“All systems report green and nominal, Admiral. We had everything checked very thoroughly over the last eight days and we’ve even replaced the systems that were damaged by the first strafing run that caught us by surprise in the Med. No. My radar is not malfunctioning.”

“It’s not the weather I’m worried about,” said Fedorov, “though that is reason enough for concern. We have cloudless skies now, and nothing on the horizon, but you say the reading appears to be a formation of planes—multiple contacts, yes? That is not common in peace time.”

“Agreed,” Volsky said quickly. “I think it best that we move to level two alert, and if there is no objection I will come about and begin a graceful withdrawal from this sector. We’ll head west again.”

Fedorov thought for a moment. “I suggest we wait for a moment, sir. I think—”

“Level two alert, Mister Fedorov,” Volsky scolded. “A good Starpom immediately seconds a command level order, particularly one involving ship’s security.”