John Schettler - 9 Days Falling, Volume I

“Not alone?”

“You said there was a group of American destroyers involved in a gunfight with you—at fairly close range—am I correct?”

“Yes, that is so. Karpov was engaging them, and sunk several ships with our deck guns.”

“Well I’ve done a little digging on that engagement over the years. It seems that particular group was called Desron 7 , an American destroyer flotilla. It vanished that same day Kirov disappeared. The crew claims they returned to their base at Argentia Bay and found the place obliterated.”

“My God!” Volsky was truly surprised now. “They saw the same future we did, then—the years after this damn war we’re so eager to fight.”

“I see,” said Kamenski. “Yes, that makes sense now, considering all you have told me. Apparently this new war of our ends quite badly, for all concerned. But the interesting thing about this incident was that the ships suddenly reappeared, twelve days after they were reported missing.”

“But how?” Volsky had a blank expression on his face now. “We used Rod-25, albeit unknowingly, but by that time we were thousands of miles away in the Med when we reappeared. That could not have affected those American destroyers. Could it?”

“I would think not. They initially shifted simply because of their close proximity to Kirov when it was displaced. Proximity seems to matter when these effects are considered. Our people gave this considerable thought. We don’t really know why it happens yet, but they have simply come round to the belief that certain things have an affinity for a given time. Those destroyers moved forward as your ship did, then fell back into their own time again. They tell me it has something to do with string theory and strange vibrations.” Kamenski waved his hand. “I don’t understand any of that either, Admiral.”

“How did you learn of this Desron 7?”

“The usual methods. The Americans tried to cover it all up, of course. They didn’t believe the story their own sailors told them, any more than the crew of the cruiser Tone were believed when they returned to Truk with other wild stories of a phantom ship at sea. It’s enough to drive a sane man mad—and that was the case for a good number on that ship. I followed it very closely over the years. Well, to make a long story short, the British clued the Americans in on things, and after they got the bomb they decided to see if they could duplicate the time displacement effect with a nuclear detonation. That’s why they dragged all those ships out to Bikini Atoll and blasted them to hell—not to test the effects of the blast or assess damage on the ships, but to see if anything displaced in time, and to judge the radius of any possible effects. Do you understand now why everyone is so determined to restrict the spread of nuclear weapons? Their destructive power is one thing, but these odd effects are quite another.”

Volsky appeared dumbfounded. “To think that this has been going on these years… Well, Mister Kamenski, do you think it will happen again like that? Will Karpov and his ships simply return to this time like the American destroyers?”

“They may…then again they may not. Who can say for sure? I will say one thing, however. We can fetch them home again by other means if necessary, and I think we should make plans to consider that possibility at once.”

“By other means?” Kapustin had been following all this closely.

“With one of those control rods you have tucked away at Shkotovo-16.”

“Yes!” Volsky had new life now. “I know just what we can do! My engineer Dobrynin is in the Caspian right now preparing the rescue mission for Fedorov. If this other control rod has the same effect as Rod-25, then we could send it back with him—for Kirov and the other ships. We could get the control rod from Severomorsk as well, if need be. If Orlan is with Kirov that ship has the new naval propulsion reactor too.”

“If I understand your plan, Admiral, this Dobrynin is aboard the Anatoly Alexandrov in the Caspian Sea with Rod-25? But how can you be certain it will reach the same timeframe in the past as Fedorov?”

“Rod-25 has been very faithful. It seems to have an affinity, to use your term. It sends things seventy-nine years into the past—very exact.”

“Well that won’t do us very much good. If my math is correct that will send your engineer and the Anatoly Alexandrov back to the Caspian region of 1942, but your fleet is in 1945 according to this letter, and 6500 kilometers to the east in the Sea of Okhotsk! Dobrynin’s people will have both a very long journey east with this new control rod, through Soviet Russia, and a very long wait when they get there— if they get there.”

“We would have to risk that,” Volsky insisted.

“But how would you do this—from Baku to Vladivostok?”

“There is no way it could be done overland. It would have to be flown, but we can’t very well take a large plane back with us when Anatoly Alexandrov tries this little experiment. Yet we could land a big helicopter on the roof of the Alexandrov , and it would most likely shift back as well. Yes…” Volsky was feeling his way through the scenario, thinking and planning.

“It would have to be a helicopter,” he said definitively. “There is no other way. Our best choice would be the Mi-26, but even that has a maximum range of about 2000 kilometers on internal fuel. As you said, we’re talking about a journey of 6500 kilometers from Vladivostok to Baku. The helo would have to use most of its cargo space for additional fuel, but it could be done. In fact, we could use the Mi-26TZ. That model was modified to create an airborne fuel tanker with an additional 14,000 liters of fuel in four internal tanks. We could rig four more and carry up to 28,000 liters on our newest model. Add that to the internal fuel and we should have enough to get to the east coast.”

“But barely enough,” said Kamenski doing some quick math.

“Once they reach the coast we can contact Kirov via radio and arrange a rendezvous.”

“After waiting three long years,” said Kamenski. “What if something happens to the ship before you can make contact?”

“We’ll be there waiting when the ship arrives if all goes well.”

Kamenski raised an eyebrow. “Yes… I suppose that’s true.”

“But one moment please,” Kapustin spoke up, a confused look on his face. “You say Karpov sent this note by sending men to the naval Logistics Building in Vladivostok. Yes? Then it is clear your helicopter was not waiting there when the ship appeared in 1945, or at least that they failed to make contact. Am I correct in this? Does this mean this mission is doomed to fail?”

Kamenski listened, deep in thought. “Very astute, Gerasim! But Karpov must send his note to make the prospect of this mission possible. Otherwise how would we know where he was and dream this up? It’s very confusing, but perhaps the instant Karpov sent that letter everything changed. It doesn’t sound like much, but it may have been enough to alter the entire line of causality and permit us this opportunity. Who knows for sure? Well have to let Mother Time sort it all out.”

“I wish Fedorov were here,” said Volsky. “He would figure all this out.”

“Well, I will agree with you, Admiral. This appears to be the only way we can solve the problem if Karpov and his ships don’t get home sick and return on their own. The shepherd will have to find his lost sheep! That said, waiting almost three years on the east coast will not be without risks. The Japanese had troops on the Kuriles until very late in the war. You would have to find a very isolated place, safe from discovery. Probably on Sakhalin Island, high up in the mountains. That’s a long time to hold out. There’s the question of food, water, and if I am not mistaken you are using the entire lift capacity of that helicopter just for fuel. Men need to eat.”