John A. Schettler Part I Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Part II Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Part III Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Part IV Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Part V Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Part VI Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Part VII Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Part VIII Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Part IX Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Part X Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Part XI Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Part XII Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 John A. Schettler Altered States “Mother Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations.” — Faith Baldwin Part I Altered States “Things alter for the worse spontaneously if they be not altered for the better designedly.” — Francis Bacon Chapter 1 It was over…finally done, or so they thought. They stood on the bridge with heavy hearts, each man silent with the inner weight of his own conscience. Then Admiral Volsky closed the book he had been reading from, slipping it slowly into his uniform breast pocket. The poem he had read carried a dour sentiment, and an equal burden of guilt. He knew that the ship had been responsible for much harm, fighting in three wars across two centuries. The damage they had inflicted on the mirror of time was easily seen, the cracks webbing out through the months and years to change the reflection of history. Yet there was no way to fully understand exactly what they had done, or so they thought… We have been blundering about with good intentions for the most part, thought Volsky, yet blundering still. Fedorov launched his mission to find Orlov for every good reason, yet he could not control the outcome. It seems that every mark we have left on the days of the past must inevitably work its way forward in time to some resolution, some consequence, and we cannot hope to measure or even know the whole of what we may have done. This was what he had tried to convey with his words. Yes, they could not measure it, could not hold it, yet it was nonetheless theirs. They had to own it and accept the responsibility for what they did, for whatever reason-to preserve the ship, to save their own lives, or to embark on the bolder agendas that grew in the Devil’s Garden of Karpov’s mind. What had happened to the Captain? Volsky saw the blood, still wet on the gunwale of the weather bridge. Rodenko had told him they heard gunshots, yet no body was found. Could he have fallen from that high place and careened into the ocean? If that were so he would have been pulled into the void right along with the ship. Did that mean his body was out there somewhere, adrift on the heartless sea? “Well now,” he said. “Time to grieve it all later. At the moment we must determine where we are, and look to the safety of the ship and crew. He turned to Rodenko to ask about Kirov’s overall condition and the Starpom gave his report. “Chief Byko is working below decks on the situation in the bow, sir. We struck a mine and there was a minor hull breach. Three compartments flooded but they have been contained and the pumps are working now. I’m afraid we have lost the Horse Jaw sonar dome, and we will need to make repairs to the bow.” “That means no active sonar from that system…Well, we will have to rely on Kazan. Their systems were completely operational, so I will be sure Nikolin establishes a direct communications link and monitors it at all times.” “That would be prudent, sir.” “And how are the men here?” “We are fine, Admiral. The situation we just faced was difficult, but I think the men can continue this watch and we can make regular relief rotations as scheduled. Facing the Captain in his rage was no easy task, but it is certainly better than what we were facing in that impending battle.” “Yes, Armageddon, you fought it here on this bridge and saved Admiral Togo and his lot for another day. It must have been very difficult indeed. Thank God no one else was hurt. All things considered, the crisis resolved itself fairly well. Yet I cannot help but wonder what happened to Karpov. Was a search made for the body?” “Yes sir. Byko put divers in the water to inspect the damage while you were touring the ship. I gave those men orders to have a look around, but nothing was found. Just a few fishing boats off near the island that I hope belong to this day and time.” “Very strange,” said Volsky, still very disturbed by what had happened. “We will arrange for a sea burial ceremony at an appropriate time,” he said heavily. “We owe the man our lives many times over and, in spite of what he became in the end, we owe him at least that respect.” “I agree, sir,” Rodenko said solemnly. Volsky shrugged, looking about the bridge and seeing the men smartly at their stations again, which gave him heart “A fine day,” he said looking out the viewports at the sea. “This damage to the bow-will our speed be affected?” “Byko has asked that we do not attempt to exceed 20 knots.” “Is it repairable while we are underway? “The flooding can be controlled, but to adequately repair the outer hull we will need to be in a stable environment. Dry dock would be best, but that is impossible. He thinks the divers could do something, but we would need to be anchored.” “Well,” said Volsky, “until we know just where we are, I think it best to maintain a modest cruising speed. What is the status of our radars and electronics?” “The Fregat system is returning out to a 50 kilometer radius at the moment. That seems to be gradually extending, almost as if we were in some kind of expanding bubble, sir. I think we should have normal coverage in about an hour.” “What is our course?” “We are hovering just off that island, Admiral.” “Then let us set a course for Vladivostok at sixteen knots until we know where this time displacement has sent us. I think I would feel better in familiar surroundings.” “I’ll get the ship moving, sir.” Rodenko moved off to instruct the helmsman. As always, Fedorov huddled with Nikolin first, and the two men were monitoring signals all through the radio band. At first they had heard nothing more than the backwash of static, but now the garbled sounds of voice transmissions were picked up, though they could not make anything out yet. Like the radar systems, the radio was slowly recovering as the effects of the time shift wore off by degrees. Oddly, it was the lookout on the main mast that Rodenko posted above the bridge that saw it first. There was something in the sky, a gleam of sunlight on a sleek surface, the yellow glint of light on metal. Just as the sighting was sent down to the bridge radar reported the contact close in, the operator shocked to see something this close unnoticed. “Someone is curious about us,” said Volsky. “It must have been just launched from beyond those hills.” “Most likely, sir, or we would have certainly seen it this close on radar long ago.” This was very unexpected, but Fedorov immediately realized they should be in range to communicate with the contact. He asked Nikolin to switch to standard AM bands to see if they were picking anything up and, sure enough, there was a stream of unintelligible language in his headset on a low dial position. “It’s Japanese,” said Nikolin, handing off the headset to Chekov, who spoke the language. “They are asking us to identify ourselves,” said Chekov directly. “Of course, what else,” said Volsky. “Well if they have a good telescope or a pair of field glasses they will have already seen the naval ensign flying from the main mast. I think it best to strike those colors. We do not yet know what our situation is and for all we know Russia and Japan may have not healed the rift Karpov opened here in 1908.” “What do I tell them, Admiral?” “Say nothing for the moment. I think we will just be on our way. Sixteen knots. No rush about it, but Mister Samsonov, if you would stand ready and see to the ship’s defensive systems that would be prudent-just as a precaution.” “Aye, sir. Shall I come to condition two alert?” “Not just yet. But be prepared in the event we run into anything unexpected.” So they eased away, leaving silence behind them like the thin foaming wake on the sea; leaving the island and everything that had happened there behind them as they went. Signals traffic soon convinced Fedorov that they had not been able to advance much more than twenty years into the future. “I’m not sure why, sir,” he explained to the Admiral. “It could be that the mass involved was too much to move. Remember that the test reactor in the Primorskiy Engineering center left a man behind. We were lucky that Rod-25 was able to move both Kirov and Kazan, but we’re not home yet.” “Then we will try again,” said Volsky. Kamenski had come aboard the ship in the last hour and so the Admiral convened a meeting in the officer’s stateroom to determine what to do. Chief Dobrynin had also come aboard to check on Kirov’s reactors and was seated with them to provide technical advice. The old ex-KGB man spoke first. “We could find ourselves hopping through the cold war next if Rod-25 can only nudge the two vessels a few decades at a time.” “That might be better than finding we are in another hot war,” said Volsky. “What do you suggest?” “We have three control rods-two that have never been tested for this application. We might try one of those here on Kirov, and then see what Rod-25 can do with Kazan.” “Chief?” The Admiral looked to his reactor engineer, giving him the floor. “A couple things come to mind at once, Admiral,” he said. “First, while we have three control rods, I cannot be in two places at once to monitor the shift. I could control one shift, but the other ship would be on its own.” “A good point. What are the dangers involved?” “Perhaps none at all, sir. We could dip the rods and everything might work out just as we hope. Then again, given all that has happened, I tend to doubt that will be the case. The first problem we face is that the two rods may perform differently. Rod-25 is older, more weathered by continuous use, yet it has proven to be very reliable. It tends to pop into the 1940s every time it shifts, one direction or another, but it was able to get us home once, and it was also able to get us to 1908. One day soon, however, it will go the way of all spent control rods. There is a limit to the radiation it can absorb. It will have to be removed and retired.” “The other two rods-they are completely new, yes?” “Yes sir, they have never been tested, as Mister Kamenski indicated. So they could perform in unexpected ways, or perhaps even fail to perform at all. This remains to be seen.” “What do you recommend, Chief? We must rely on your experience in these matters.” “Well, sir, Rod-25 is beginning to present some telltale decay signatures in the absorption spectrum data. I was just looking that over and comparing it to logs from our earlier shifts with the rod aboard Kirov. I would not suggest trying to move both ships again, even if Kazan was right beneath us now.” “I see… Then we must install one of the other control rods.” “If we do this I recommend we leave Rod-25 aboard Kazan. It is radioactive, and difficult to manage. The other two rods are still inert, and much easier to transport and install here aboard Kirov.” “You would use both rods?” “No, just one at a time. But Kirov is a dual 24 rod reactor system. I could place these new control rods in the number 25 spot in each of those two reactors, so the second would be immediately available should it ever be needed. It takes several hours to install these rods, and we have been in situations where our displacement in time literally saved the ship from almost certain destruction.” “This is a good plan,” said Kamenski. “But will the engineers aboard Kazan know what to do?” “I have some well trained men over there. They can initiate the maintenance procedure easily enough, though controlling it is another matter. I think I would need to be here aboard Kirov when we attempt to use one of these new rods.” “So that leaves Kazan’s shift to the roll of the dice,” said Fedorov. “Perhaps,” said Dobrynin. “Yet this time I have a plan, Mister Fedorov. I thought that I might be able to use the recording of our last successful forward shift and extract that data. It will tell the engineers aboard Kazan what I did by way of adjustments to the reaction to produce a safe shift home. This is by no means a sure thing. They will not hear it as I do, but it would be like a template of a proper shift, telling them when to adjust the power, the speed, and how to respond to flux events. I cannot guarantee anything, but it may work.” Volsky sat with that, thinking. “So we give them a kind of road map home in the data and hope they get there. That is very risky, but I do not see any other alternative. Yes, I agree that you will be best placed here to break in these new control rods. Who knows where we will end up? Everything about this entire affair has been one surprise after another. Something tells me that fate may have a few more twists and turns ahead for us. That strange balloon was one thing.