John Schettler - 1943

“Anything new?” asked Gromyko.

“Sir, we picked up the code phrase 8-E-YU. That’s Admiral Nagumo, and he was ordered to make a course change west into the Solomons.”

“Genzo? What’s up?”

“We think it has something to do with that hit on the base at Truk, sir. The last course track we had on that task force put it heading for Truk.”

“So they don’t want their carriers in harm’s way,” said Gromyko. “Karpov must have shaken them up. Very well, that will be all Mister Gavrilov. Dismissed.”

“Aye sir.” GG Saluted, then gave a nod to Karenin as he left. The Captain cleared out the area surrounding the comm station, and sent several crewmen off to do something or another so they would have some privacy.

“Mister Karenin, fire up the secure command link set and raise Kirov.” That surprised the Lieutenant, but with the Captain and Fleet Admiral standing there he was all business. He sent the coded signal that Nikolin would receive moments later.

There it was again.

Nikolin’s heart jumped when the signal came in. It was two cyphers off the normal EAM command link channel, a special frequency variation that had been pre-arranged by Fedorov long ago. It was the code, and the first time he saw it an avalanche of memories had come tumbling into his head. It seemed to him afterwards, that he had been living in a strange fog, but now everything was clear again. Now he remembered it all, how they had arrived here so long ago on that first ship, and all that had happened to them. But he had not said a single word about it to anyone… except Doctor Zolkin.

His heart racing as before, he looked to find the Captain, glad that it was Fedorov’s shift. “Sir,” he said. “I have a secure authenticated message on the HF Comm-link system.”

Fedorov raised an eyebrow. “It was properly coded?”

“Aye sir. The ID designator has it as Kazan .” He gave Fedorov a wide-eyed look.

Now it was Fedorov who felt his pulse rise. He knew Kazan was out there somewhere, but Gromyko had been last reported in the Barents Sea. The rendezvous he had arranged on his mission to Ilanskiy months ago had never taken place, but there had been no communication with the submarine since that time.

“Thank you, Mister Nikolin. I will take your post for the time being. That will be all.”

“Aye sir.”

“And Nikolin… Say nothing of this communication. Just go have a nice late breakfast. You can return in one hour.”

“Understood sir.” Nikolin saluted and was on his way, a thousand questions in his mind. Then Fedorov settled into his warm chair, placing the headset over his ears, and speaking in a low voice.

“Kazan, Kazan, this is Captain Fedorov aboard Kirov . We receive and authenticate your code. Come back. Over.”

“We read you, Kirov . This is Captain Ivan Gromyko. Something tells me you are still a long way from the Dolphin’s Head. Shall we try this rendezvous somewhere else? Over.”

The two men would have a brief conversation where Fedorov would learn why Kazan had gone silent. “You phased,” he explained. “That happened to us more than once after a shift. It can sometimes take a while for things to settle into the new timeframe.”

“Yes,” said Gromyko. “We also skipped forward a few more months in time. It was September when we made that tryst to meet off the Dolphin’s Head. Then we skipped forward and the year was damn near gone.”

“It happens,” said Fedorov. “Perhaps like a plane taking a hop on landing.”

“Something more occurred,” said Gromyko. “It’s difficult to describe, but perhaps the best way is to let you hear from him. Standby, Kirov.”

Gromyko looked over at Volsky, who was sitting at his side now with another headset. He toggled a switch, but as he did so, he noticed that the Admiral’s eyes were watered over, as if he were overcome with emotion.

“Mister Fedorov,” he said softly. “I cannot tell you how good it is to hear your voice again.”

At the other end of that transmission Fedorov sat there in complete shock. How often do the dead call home to the living? Yet the voice he heard now was unmistakable. It was Volsky.

“Admiral?” his voice quavered a bit.

“One and the same,” Volsky came back.

“But… Sir….”

“Yes, I know you must have received some very hard news of my fate. How I come to be here now is a bit of a mystery, even to me, and particularly since I’m really not sure who I am these days. I was sitting quietly in my office at Fleet Headquarters, when in walked a most remarkable man.”

He told him of the visit from Kamenski, and of the Director’s plan. “So you see, there is still a world out there that is safe and sound from all the changes you worry so much about. I was living in it. Yet now, after this little journey here, that man sits quietly beneath two others in my mind. It is all very strange. I have memories of those last days on the ship, the first ship. Do you know you went missing there, Fedorov? I mourned that a good long while, before fate came calling for me. Then again, I have memories of leaving Murmansk on that British sub after Karpov took the ship. Until the darkness fell on me in the Atlantic when we fought with the Hindenburg .”

“Yes sir… I went through this myself when Kirov returned—memories on top of memories, two lives mingled together in one head. There I was on the bridge, knowing men like Orlov and Karpov should not be there, but unable to realize why I could remember all that had happened before, when no one else could.”

“We’ve been remade,” said Volsky. “The both of us, or so it seems, and I am a most fortunate man. I suppose only one other man has ever made the claim that he has risen from the dead, and I do not presume to be his equal. Yet here I am. Time has put me here, and for a very grave reason. If the Director were here, he could explain it all to you, but I think you have heard some of it before—the dire dilemma we face because of the presence of Kirov in these waters. You recall how we discussed it before?”

“I do sir…” Fedorov was finally getting himself under control, thrilled to have Volsky back, a man that had been like a father to him, his stalwart ally through the travail of all these trials and adventures.

“Well, we have work to do here, Mister Fedorov. Kamenski is convinced that the ship cannot remain here. We must all get home. We tried this before, with Kazan attempting to do the heavy lifting, but it could not carry itself far enough forward with Kirov on its back. Yet we have a new control rod now—a new Rod-25 if you will. It’s a long story, but all Kamenski’s doing, and hear now what he has placed upon our shoulders.”

The Admiral spoke quietly, telling him that the same urgent mission was at hand again. They had to get the ship home, remove its contagion from the time line here, assure that no further paradox might occur, and allow this history to move forward on its own. Yet even as he explained that, they both knew that there was one great stumbling block before them—Vladimir Karpov.

“He won’t want to hear this,” said Fedorov. “He’s an Admiral now—self-appointed, and so much more. He’s taken a liking to his position here, and the power he has gathered to himself. And he’s also quite fond of the little war he’s fighting with the Japanese. We just attacked their naval base at Truk! Now he wants to look for bigger fish at Rabaul.”

“I see…” Volsky considered. “How do you think he would take the news of my return?”

“It would certainly be shocking,” said Fedorov. “Yet remember, he sees himself as evolved beyond any obligation to the authority you represent. In fact, he has flatly stated that he has no intention whatsoever of trying to return to our own time. Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven.”