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“Interesting,” said Karpov. “Volkov came down and said he met NKVD there at the inn. Then he went down a second time to reach 1908. I wonder, Fedorov. What day was that? Might his younger self be fated to come down this year, just as before? I must tell you that I sent Tyrenkov up once to see what we could discover about Volkov. We saw him, right there, getting off the train with his men in 2021. So what if he appears here in 1942 on the same day he did before he went to 1908? That would mean the version of himself here is facing paradox, just as we all were. Can there be two versions of Volkov here, just as I survive in this world with my brother self?”

“Hard to say,” said Fedorov. “Everything I once believed told me that things, people, could not co-locate. That’s why I think our ship vanished before Paradox Hour, to make way for the imperative of this ship’s arrival.”

“Yes,” said Karpov. “Time certainly shuffled the deck there, didn’t she? Someone slipped an extra Ace into the cards.” He smiled. “And we end up with you here, yet remembering everything that happened, a strong King in the deck, while everyone else on the ship is still in the fog of unknowing.”

That wasn’t true, Fedorov knew, but he said nothing about the fact that Orlov was also a Jack of Fate now, knowing all the things he lived through in the first coming of the ship. He got back to the question at hand.

“Then again….” Fedorov eyed Karpov, as if looking to gauge his mood. “There is another alternative, the opposite side of the coin. I could also see that Kirov never survives.” He let that stand there for a moment, again, watching Karpov closely.

The Admiral’s eyes narrowed, for this was something he had also considered. “You are suggesting we eliminate Sergei Kirov? Then we get Stalin back.”

“More than likely.”

“Why would we want that?”

“Because it’s what happened, at least in the history we know. And considering how this war is going, I have real doubts as to whether we can prevail in Russia. The Germans have linked up with Volkov’s troops, and now everything south of the Don is cut off. Those troops will have to live off the land, and there will be no reinforcements, supplies or equipment replacements.”

“Yes,” said Karpov darkly. “Volkov is already starting to shift divisions back to the Siberian front. He’s beefed up his position on the Ob River line, and started construction on five new airships. To make matters worse. We lost Angara last week. The reports are hazy, buy my Tyrenkov says he had information that the Germans have an airship program underway now as well. There was a raid north of Kansk, but the enemy ship slipped away before we could get stronger units up there to see about it.”

“Can you hold along the Ob?”

“For the moment. I sent a lot of manpower west to the Soviets—five Shock Armies. We’re raising more divisions, but the ranks are thinner now, and the factory relocation program is still underway. Production is starting to gain some momentum, but we’ve a long way to go. The Germans already have new tanks, much stronger than in the old history, or so I’m told.”

“Everything is accelerated in terms of weapons development,” said Fedorov. “I would not be surprised to see the Germans deploying rocket weaponry by mid 1943, and perhaps even jet fighters. This war is far from over, and we could still lose it.”

“Hence your suggestion concerning Sergei Kirov.”

“Correct.”

“How could we be certain that would restore the balance?”

“Stalin,” said Fedorov. “He was the strong hand on the back of the commissars necks. It was Stalin’s utter brutality that held the Soviet Union together as we knew it.”

“No argument there, Fedorov, but if he came back into this history, what would things look like here?” Karpov gave him a searching look.

“It’s likely that Kolchak would have been killed long ago, and all of Siberia and the far east would be Soviet controlled.”

“Which puts me out of a job,” said Karpov. “I’m not sure I like that. It hasn’t been easy to get where I am today.”

“Of course, but that is a likely outcome. As for Volkov, he was able to knock off Denikin and seize control of the White movement, but then he would be up against Stalin. In spite of Volkov’s edge in knowing the future course of the history, I might bet on the Man of Steel in that matchup. Suppose Stalin defeats him, treats Volkov like any of the other rivals he faced, and eliminates him?”

“That would solve our problem with the Orenburg Federation.”

“Perhaps. Stalin was a massive force in the history. Bringing him back will certainly change things, but it is impossible to predict everything from this vantage point. We’d only be guessing.”

“Yet this Mother Time you speak of might like such a change. She’d get her boyfriend Stalin back, and he might clean up a good deal of the mess we’ve created for her.”

“Right,” said Fedorov. “But with Stalin come the purges, assassinations, the gulags and slave labor camps. These were all the things that Sergei Kirov saw when he went up those stairs at Ilanskiy. His single act in killing Stalin was perhaps the bravest thing ever done in the 20th Century. But this is the result.” Fedorov extended a hand to the unseen world beyond the bulkheads of the ship.

“And what happens to us—you, me, the ship and crew?”

“I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I think we would phase shift.”

“What is that?”

“Remember how the ship pulsed in time on the earlier missions? We moved in and out of 1942, particularly when we were in the Pacific. Remember the cruiser Tone sailing right through us during one of those shifts?”

“How could anyone forget that nightmare.”

“Well, if we take any action in 1908, we must also act on this end of things. This ship still has Rod-25.”

“I’ve told Dobrynin to remove it from the maintenance cycle and store it.”

“Yes, but that order can be rescinded.”

“You’re suggesting we use Rod-25 and attempt another time displacement?”

“We must put the ship in play at the very same moment I go down those steps. Then all the cards are in time’s hand, and she can shuffle the deck and deal.”

Karpov shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure I like that idea.”

“What you mean to say is that you don’t like casting your fate to the wind like that, and putting yourself at the mercy of time.”

“I stared her down once before,” said Karpov, his tone heavy with determination.

“Yes, you may have, but no man ever escapes her final judgment. You are here for a while, Karpov, but not forever. Time is the fire in which we all burn—no exceptions.”

Karpov rubbed his chin, his eyes shifting about. He never liked to consider his own mortality. He had worked out ideas like this, thinking how he could eliminate Volkov with the stairway at Ilanskiy, but always decided against it. He told himself that he wanted to settle that affair man to man, and defeat Volkov here. He told himself that this was the world he built, and he was determined to Lord over it to the end of his days. Now he was looking at the prospect of losing everything—giving it all back to Stalin. He was once reduced to mere flotsam in the ocean until that Japanese fisherman pulled him out. Now he could lose everything he fought and strived for if Fedorov did this thing.

“And if you do this, and we choose life for Sergie Kirov? Then what?”

“I’m not sure how, but I think if I begin this task, and secure the rise of Sergei Kirov in place of Stalin, then time might find a way to account for Volkov here. She’d have to. I’ll be the culprit again if I do this. Who knows, perhaps I will not even survive the attempt. Time might find a way to get rid of me, and end my feckless tampering. As it stands, the 30th of September was the day I decided to act last time, and so we have only three days to work this out. I can choose to act, or not act. I can choose Stalin or Kirov. It’s all on me again.”