John Schettler - Fallen Angels - 9 Days Falling, Volume II

“Let us hope things do not come to that,” said Yeltsin. “But we will support you, Captain.”

“Of course you will,” Karpov smiled, then he was suddenly serious again. “There is one thing more,” he began, his eyes shifting as though he were trying to locate something on the desk. “Should it come down to nuclear weapons, I must tell you that our experience leads me to believe that our position in this timeframe could be affected by a detonation.”

“What do you mean?” Yeltsin leaned closer. “Affected in what manner?”

“It is impossible to say. We have already seen how a massive release of explosive energy sent us here. A nuclear detonation, close enough, could send us somewhere…else…”

“This happened to you in the Atlantic?”

“It did, but we later attributed it to the use of that control rod. Now I am not so sure.”

“Then perhaps this might also be a way for us to get back to our own time again,” Yeltsin hit on the obvious point of opportunity.

“That thought occurred to me,” said Karpov. “We might kill two bears with one shot. If we do have to teach the Americans a lesson, and it changes the history in our favor, that will be one thing. If it also sends us home, so much the better.”

“And if it puts two thousand men in an early grave?”Another voice intruded from the shadow of the half open door, and Doctor Zolkin entered, a hard look on his face. “What then, Karpov?”

“You were not invited to this conference, Doctor.”

“Sorry to crash the party gentlemen, but I invited myself. I am a Captain of the Second Rank.”

“You are not in the primary command structure of the ship,” Karpov snapped at him. “That rank is merely a courtesy, Zolkin. You know it as well as I do.”

“Courtesy or not, I am here and you have heard what I just said. You think you can just fire off your weapons and slaughter these men without consequences?”

“Not without consequences.” Karpov stood up now. “I am well aware of the consequences, more so than any man in this room.”

“And what does your conscience say about that?” Zolkin looked him square in the eye, defiant.

“That is my concern!”

“No, Captain. It is our concern, yours, mine, the good Captains here, and also the concern of every man on this ship. If you fire off another warhead, then all history changes.”

“That is the point under discussion, Doctor. Yes, all history changes, and hopefully for the better. You want what we just lived through all over again? You would prefer the cold war, the collapse of the Soviet Union? The oil wars, and then the final battle for our very survival in 2021? Yes, we could change all that. We have the power.”

“How many warheads do you have, Karpov? Suppose you destroy the American fleet here. You think they will leave it at that? No! Fedorov says your first little act of valor ended up changing the history and there was no Pearl Harbor. Well, you’ll give them that right here, won’t you? Use a nuclear warhead here and all you will do is poke a stick in the belly of the bear, the most powerful nation on this earth at the moment. They will build three new ships for every one you destroy, and another thing. They have the bomb as well. You say you will fight for Russia? What if they drop one on Moscow?”

“We don’t know if they’ve developed atomic weapons yet. You said yourself, the history has changed. If they had the bomb, then why didn’t they use it on the Japanese?”

“Who can say? But I am willing to bet they do have it—are you going to start World War Three here?”

“I’m not starting anything. If you were eavesdropping long enough at that door then you heard that. Yes?”

“What I heard was a man determined to take his second chance and get it right this time. You are so very clever, Karpov. You think your first bomb just missed the mark, that’s all. Now if you just fling another it will hit the target this time. Am I correct? Well listen here—all of you—those are men out there—human beings.” He pointed at the wall, to sailors unseen over the far horizon, in their ships of steel, men of war, but men nonetheless. “They are flesh and blood, not shadows. Each one you kill also casts a long shadow of death on every generation yet to come. You do not just sink their ships, you kill fathers, and you kill their sons and daughters, and their grand children, all in one throw. You will have their blood and the blood of all their unborn descendents on your hands. For what? Stalin? Mother Russia?”

Zolkin waved his hand in frustration. “Alright…I’ve said what I came here to say.” He gave them a long hard look. “Now I’m going back to sick bay to wait for the men to start lining up at my door.”

He turned and stepped through the half open door, his footsteps echoing on the deck plating as he went.

Karpov sat down again, folding his hands, his face drawn but a determined look in his eye.

“The doctor is somewhat dramatic,” he began. “Yet what he fails to realize is that in war the enemy makes choices too. They may give us no other option if they will not listen to reason here.”

“Unless we turn east,” Yeltsin put in one last time. “The Pacific Ocean is a very big place.”

Karpov looked at him, but said nothing more. The meeting ended, faces hardened with the realization that they could indeed commence the Third World War within the next few hours if things went ill.

Thirty minutes later Karpov was on the bridge. “Mister Nikolin. I want you to broadcast on an open channel to the Americans. Tell them I want to speak with Admiral Halsey. Tell them I am offering to negotiate the situation and reach a peaceful resolution…to avoid any further bloodshed here.”

“Aye, sir.” Nikolin began sending his message in English, and Karpov wished he had taken the time to learn the language. Then again, he thought, perhaps we can teach the world to speak Russian here. That is the voice I will speak in now, and let them hear it well.

AboardBattleship Missouri Admiral Halsey was sitting in the ward room office, reading the fleet manifest and thinking. They had lost Wasp —again—and Ziggy Sprague’s TF 38.3 was now light a good number of aircraft, but he still had teeth. There were over 200 planes left in Sprague’s task force, and he was bringing 350 more on Yorktown, Shangri-La, Bon Homme Richard and two light escort carriers. He also had two more superb fast battleships with Missouri and Iowa , a fist full of heavy cruisers, and over twenty destroyers to throw in with Ziggy’s group.

Someone just called our bet and so we’ll go double or nothing, he thought. Whoever they are, we’ll show them who the hell they’re messing with—rockets or no rockets. The British Admiral Fraser had warned him not to concentrate his ships too tightly, though that seemed to fly in the face of good naval tactics. He had used a sledgehammer approach to bludgeon the Japanese to their knees with one swift, powerful blow after another. The war was finally over, and all it will take is just one more swing of that hammer to let everyone concerned know who’s in charge here.

“Admiral, sir…” A midshipman was knocking lightly at the door, saluting as he entered.

“What is it Mister Wilkes?”

“Sir, you asked to be informed of any unusual message traffic. We’re receiving a radio transmission from the Russians up north.”

“What’s this all about?”

“I think you’d better hear it for yourself, sir. It’s been repeating for the last ten minutes now. They’re asking for you by name, sir.”

Halsey took that in. So history was calling his name again. It was not a surprise. They know who they’re up against here now and they probably want to jaw bone about it.