“So we once thought,” said Karpov, thinking of his brother self.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Fedorov. “But weren’t you…. elsewhere on Paradox Hour?”
“On my Zeppelin, again named Tunguska. How’s that for irony.”
“Alright… So I don’t think we could reach June 30th, but I was only there for a brief time. It might be possible, but it would also be extremely dangerous, because I was also there the following morning, July 1st. That was when I arrived using the Irkutsk on the mission to get Mironov.”
“Yes, and that was very strange that you could go there simply by overflying the site of the event in 1942.”
“The rift was obviously in play,” said Fedorov. “I might never be able to replicate that shift if I tried it again, but it happened. Call it fate, call it Absolute Certainty because of my earnest desire to get there—but there I was.”
“And I was blown back to 1908 aboard the ship after one of my little indiscretions,” said Karpov.
“Yes,” said Volsky. “Blowing the Americans to hell with a nuke.”
“I’ll have to admit, it did feel good.” Karpov was only half jesting with his smile. “In any case, I was there from the 10th of July through the 26th, having a good deal of success until you spoiled the party. I realize now that is what set Japan loose early, and why we lost all of Primorskiy Province, but that is…. History, at least from where we stand now. Those dates are out for me.”
“Then that leaves the period of July 2 through the 10th when you first arrived there,” said Fedorov. “That’s a very narrow window for you, and for me it would extend to July 17 when I went back on the Anatoly Alexandrov. I was there through the 19th trying to persuade you to come home peacefully.” He looked at Karpov.
“That’s not much time for me if we get to July 2nd. We could try, but as we approached the 10th, I’d have to make an exit.”
“But the earlier we get there, the better,” said Fedorov. “Mironov will be long gone if we wait until after July 26th to avoid these paradoxes.”
“This may sound stupid,” said Gromyko, “but do we get to pick the time we might appear there?”
“A very good point,” said Volsky. “In fact, isn’t this all up to Mother Time? We can’t assume we’ll get to any specific date.”
“To avoid Paradox, Time would have to make the same deliberations we are now engaged in,” said Fedorov. “So considering our combined intention as Prime Movers, we might just get the best seats in the theater available, and arrive on July 2nd. Time would know that our chances of success would be very low if we had to arrive after the 26th. Mironov could be hundreds of miles away from Ilanskiy if we take that route.”
“Which is, I think, the way we must go,” said Volsky. “Taking the ship gives us power, but it also becomes very complicated. We would then have to fly by helicopter to Ilanskiy to find this Mironov, and so we would have to take the ship north of Sakhalin Island to get as close as possible. Even then, it is 2500 kilometers to Ilanskiy from there.”
“But those helos at least give us mobility,” said Karpov.
“Until the aviation fuel runs out, which it will on a flight of that length,” said Volsky. No, Mister Karpov, I think the back stairway is our only choice here.”
“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “That puts us right where we need to be, and with the best chance of finding Mironov, or even Volkov. If we take the ship, our chances diminish considerably. We’d lose too much time trying to get to Ilanskiy, and then we’d have to get back before the 10th and get the ship out of there before Karpov’s arrival on that date.”
“Alright,” said Karpov, relenting, though he was inwardly disappointed. He had inner visions of taking the helm again in 1908, and settling affairs, but this mission was going to need cloak and dagger, not the muscle of the battlecruiser.
“Let’s assume you are correct, Fedorov. We go there, and I’ll take care of Mironov this time. Then we do everything possible to find Volkov before he slips away. He can’t get far. Where would he go?”
“East or west,” said Fedorov. There was a train heading east to Irkutsk—Train 94. It was approaching Kansk on June 30th, and they saw the event. That caused quite a stir, and they stopped at some debris on the line, sending men ahead on horseback to see if the rest of the line was clear. With all the commotion the event caused, the Engineer decided to re-coal at Kansk on the 30th and then proceed east, with a brief stop at Ilanskiy at the outset on July 1st. They had to sop there to pick up tourists and passengers that went by carriage to the inn there while the train was re-coaling. I think Mironov gets on that train. Zykov found him 10 klicks east of Ilanskiy on the morning of July 1st, so he was already heading that direction.”
“July 1st?” said Volsky. “Does the train leave that day?”
“This is where it gets complicated,” said Fedorov. “Yes, I think Train 94 probably left Kansk on the 1st of July, though we didn’t see it while we were there. It may have come later that morning, or even in the afternoon, but it had a schedule to keep, so I doubt if they lingered at Kansk long. They were heading for Irkutsk, a journey of 500 miles.”
“They might get there in one day,” said Karpov.”
“I doubt it. They probably stopped many times along the route, but they would certainly get there in 48 hours, unless something happened we don’t know about.”
“Then why not go to Irkutsk and wait for this Mironov at the rail station there?” Karpov was angling for something again. “We obviously can’t catch the train leaving Ilanskiy, because the earliest we can get there is July 2nd. We’ll be a day late, and Mironov will be hundreds of miles to the east if he gets on that train July 1st. The only way we could get to Irkutsk ahead of him would be to take the ship to the Yellow Sea, use Rod-25, and then go by helo to Irkutsk. That should cut down the range and fuel burden too.”
“You really want that ship back there,” said Gromyko.
“I’m just being practical,” said Karpov.
“Practical?” Fedorov gave him a wide-eyed look. “The Yellow Sea is a Japanese lake right now. We’d certainly be spotted if we tried to take Kirov there.”
“Well, I’d get you there safely aboard Kazan,” said Gromyko. “But my boat carries no helicopters.”
“Damn complicated,” said Volsky. “We may be determined to go back there, and perhaps time will send us right to July 2nd as you suggest, Mister Fedorov. However, there we will be, with a good chance Sergei Kirov has already gone east on that train. Can you imagine us all trying to find horses and then off we go, chasing a train through Siberia? Me? On a horse?”
The Admiral had made his point.
They all sat there, the Vodka setting in to soften their minds, glum expressions all around. “This Sergei Kirov is one slippery fish,” said Volsky again, using a term Kamenski was fond of. “And he’s carrying all this history we’re trying to reset on his back.”
“What about Volkov?” said Karpov. “That bastard will be on foot when he arrives. He couldn’t get far. We may not be able to get Sergei Kirov, but we would certainly have a good chance of collaring Volkov. He’ll have a service jacket on. We could rig out a device to find and track its signals.”
“What if he has it turned off?” said Gromyko.
“No,” said Karpov. “He’ll be confused. He’ll be wondering where his men are, and using the jacket to try and contact them. We could pick up that signal, home in on it, and get him. That at least solves part of the big problem here. It stops the Orenburg Federation from ever arising. As for Sergei Kirov, Fedorov has grown rather fond of him, and frankly, he’s much better for Russia. If we could at least solve the Volkov problem, that alone would introduce dramatic changes to this altered meridian.”