The fissure opened, and Ambush plowed right into the expanding wave of shimmering phosphorescent plasma. It was as if the edge of that fire was the maw of some great wrathful sea demon, opening to consume the submarine. Ambush’s rounded nose vanished at the glimmering edge, soon followed by the long, bulbous body of the vessel, which plunged right on through a deep rupture in time, rent open by the violence of the explosion.
Then all was silent….
They had come to their senses, the tension slowly winding down, the boat slowly regaining its normal operations. But they were no longer there in the strange dream they had been sailing through—not with Fedorov, and Volsky, and all of WWII. In time he sent an encrypted message, hoping to make contact with Kirov again, but someone else answered, and when they did, Gromyko realized his strange ride on the sliding boards of time was not yet over. It was Severomorsk! They were no longer there in the old war, but home again, in the year 2021.
The warhead, he thought, that had to be the cause. That explosion must have opened a hole in time. It’s the only thing that can account for my presence here, for I must have sailed right on through that hole. One minute it was 1941, the next minute 80 years had passed and Kazan was adrift in the eerie quiet of an empty sea, and it was 2021.
He thought that world was long gone. After they had first shifted out, Gromyko had reached some unseen future, where the world he had come from was utterly destroyed, burned black to char, smashed by the final war they were facing when they first slipped away with Admiral Volsky. Yet there he stood, with a message in hand from Severomorsk, and one that was very insistent. Kazan was ordered home at once, and so there he was, sitting in front of the naval review board, answering questions put to him by these three blind mice.
He was trying to figure out how he might explain this whole incredible odyssey to these three men in drab grey suits and heavy overcoats, each one marked with the insignia of the Naval Intelligence arm of the Navy. A nice little lynching party these three would make, he thought.
“I am trying to understand this,” said the first. “You say you fired this warhead, and then this British submarine simply disappeared?”
“That is correct.”
“Then it was destroyed by your torpedo?”
“Possibly. All I know was that we had no further contacts. In time I ran the boat shallow to send out a signal.” Never mind that it was meant for Fedorov and Volsky, he thought to himself. But imagine my surprise when I get orders from Severomorsk in reply!
“Yes… We heard your signal. In fact, it was long overdue, and the navy was beginning to wonder what had happened to you, Captain Gromyko. Now you appear with this report of an incident with a British submarine, yet the British will not confirm your story, not even on the most discrete back channels where truth is sometimes told when it matters. One would think that the detonation of a 20 kiloton nuclear warhead might matter, particularly in light of the news today in the Pacific.”
The man stared at Gromyko, waiting, but before the Captain could say anything more, another man walked slowly through a door behind the dais where the three mice sat in judgment. He was wearing a black wool coat and Gabardine hat.
“That will be all, gentlemen,” he said matter of factly. “I will conclude this interview personally.”
The three men turned, seeing the man, and then immediately deferred, each one slowly standing, the wooden legs of their chairs skidding loudly on the plain tiled floor. They tramped slowly off stage, exiting through the same door that the fourth man had come through, and Gromyko watched, with just the hint of recollection, as the newcomer produced a pipe from his trench coat pocket, and slowly lit it with a silver lighter. He suddenly knew who this was!
“Captain,” the man said quietly. “Welcome home. I have only just arrived here myself, though I must say the ride was quite strange.”
“Director Kamenski?”
“One and the same, at least I hope as much.”
“You say you have only just arrived? Then Kirov has returned as well? The ship is safely home?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Gromyko looked at him, not understanding. “But sir, you were quartered there, were you not?”
“I was…. How to describe this. Let’s just say that report you were filing with the Naval Review Board had something to do with it. A nice little 20 kiloton warhead has a way of shaking the cups in the cupboard. Well I was one of the cups. I don’t suppose I could explain it to you, other than to say you are here, along with your submarine, and I am here as well. You moved—I moved, and here we are.”
“But sir, you were in the Atlantic? I sailed here with Kazan. How did you get here?”
“I would be very interested to know that,” said Kamenski. “I suppose, I landed here because this is where I was—in this time, on this day, in 2021. Yes, I was aboard Kirov, in my quarters as you say, and I could feel that things were starting to slip again. I left Mister Fedorov a little present on the nightstand, and the next thing I know I was sitting behind my desk in Moscow, but with a head full of new memories. I think if I had given that little gift away earlier, I might not remember anything of your remarkable mission with Admiral Volsky and Fedorov, but as it stands, you need not worry about explaining any of that to me. It’s all crystal clear.” The Director tapped a finger on the rim of his hat, then removed it, and sat down at the desk.
“Severomorsk called me concerning this hearing, so I thought I had better see to the matter of your sudden reappearance. Let’s not be formal. Please join me here at the desk.”
Gromyko was quite confused, but he came forward and took a seat with Kamenski at the table. How this man could be here, while Kirov remained elsewhere, still escaped him, but seeing was believing.
“So,” Kamenski began. “That was quite an engagement—Scharnhorst and Gneisenau out after the Rodney, the Graf Zeppelin burning on the sea, torpedoes flying everywhere, I suppose. Very dramatic. Whatever possessed you into thinking a 20 kiloton warhead was the weapon of choice?”
“Reflex. That’s how we would fight today. You either get the other fellow, or he gets you. I wasn’t going to take any chances, the fate of the Ambush aside.”
“Ah yes, that was the British submarine. Well, you may be surprised to know that it arrived here safe and sound as well. Those naval inquisitors may not have known about it, but Directors of intelligence tend to know a good deal more.” He smiled.
“I thought you were retired, sir.”
“So did I… at least I seem to remember I was. But not here—not now. I’m not even Deputy Director here—they’ve kicked me right on up to the top.”
“But you say you remember the mission, everything we set out to do—1908, the action off Oki Island, all that bouncing about in time, the rendezvous with Kirov, and all the fighting in the Mediterranean and Atlantic.”
“Chapter and verse. And yet, I have been here all along, while some other version of me was out riding about on your submarine and kibitzing with Mister Fedorov aboard Kirov. Yes, I’ve just been minding my affairs in Moscow. But this old head of mind suddenly filled up like a good glass of wine, and… I was understandably interested to learn that your submarine had returned. It’s happened to me before, though it may not happen again now that I’ve passed on my little gift to Mister Fedorov.”