John Schettler - Kirov II - Cauldron of Fire

Here there were walls of colored code wheels, strange devices like the Enigma machines and odd looking equipment fed by long coiled paper tape, dimpled with a series of small black dots of varying sizes. The minds of Bletchley Park were already in the first stages of digitizing the analog world into forms their nascent computing machines could digest and ruminate upon. A year later the estate would see the installation of the first “Colossus” machine, a rudimentary computer housing all of 1500 vacuum tubes to power its mechanical brain.

The car stopped, its door opening quickly as Admiral Tovey stepped out, a thick parcel under his right arm. He did not approach the styled mansions up the main walkway, but veered left towards a green sided extension—Hut 4, the heart of naval intelligence. A year ago the men who worked there had been reveling in their first breakthrough, the deciphering of the German Enigma code. Then came the unaccountable appearance of a strange ship in the Northern Seas, and it set the whole community back on its heels.

Tovey walked past the row of white trimmed windows and entered through a plain unsigned door. He was immediately greeted by a Marine guard, who saluted crisply and led him down the narrow hall to the office of Professor Alan Turing, who had been reading a volume of Byron’s poetry as he waited for the Admiral.

“Good day, Professor,” said Tovey as he walked briskly in, his hand extended. Turing set his poetry down and rose to greet him, his dark eyes alight with a smile.

“I’ve brought you a little something more for your file boxes,” said Tovey.

“Ah,” said Turing, “The photography!”

“Indeed. Two reels of film here with photos, and a full report. I’ve collected the logs of all ships involved, so you’ll have a good time sorting it all through before it gets filed away with everything else on this Geronimo business.”

“Very good, sir,” said Turing, his curiosity immediately aroused. “I wonder, Admiral. Might I persuade you to allow me to fly out to St. Helena one of these days and have a look for myself?”

Tovey raised an eyebrow, his face suddenly serious, and seated himself, his eye falling on the open volume of Byron’s poetry. He scanned the lines, reading inwardly:

With a heavy sigh he looked at Turing, and all the unanswered questions in his mind took a seat there with him, waiting to have their say. “I’m afraid I have some rather interesting news for you, Professor,” he said quietly. “And I think it’s high time that you and I have a very frank chat.”

WARNING: Maps will reveal significant plot elements of the story. Spoilers dead ahead! They are included here as references for those wishing to follow the saga graphically as they read. But if you don’t want to know what’s coming up ahead, steer clear of these waters.

Reaching the island of St Helena, the battlecruiser Kirov vanishes without a trace, gone from that day and year and lost again in a desolate future. They sail east, round the Cape of Good Hope and into the Indian Ocean, hoping to find some sign of human life in the southern hemisphere. Reaching the Pacific they soon discover that the ship has once again moved in time, to the year 1943.

Now the ship’s First Officer, Anton Fedorov is shocked to finally discover the true source of the great variation in time that has led to a devastated future they have come from and the demise of civilization itself. The chronology of the war at sea in the Pacific has been radically changed, and nothing in his history books can help them navigate the dangerous waters they now find themselves in, embroiled in a major Japanese offensive operation.