“Dobrynin?”
“Yes, the Chief Engineer on Kirov. He’s quite a talent where the use of that control rod is concerned. Remember Fedorov’s plan? Remember that attempt we made to try and lurk beneath Kirov and use the control rod to pull both ships out?”
“Yes—but it didn’t work. That’s what caused the situation we’re facing now. We got separated. They shifted forward, but only to 1940. I went further, all the way home at first. Yes, I saw what’s in store for this world, the end of the war that you’re worried about out there. Vladivostok was a black hole—gone. Volsky had warned me about that possibility, and told me I might be the one chance to prevent it. We could see no point in trying to live out our lives there, not in the future we saw. So we tried again, and this time we shifted backwards again, to January 11, 1941 to be exact. We were to send a coded signal to see if Kirov was there, and they were, only we later learned they arrived much earlier, in June of 1940.”
“Yes, I know that part well enough. It’s all up here.” Kamenski pointed to his head. “So you were both exposed,” he said.
“We arranged to meet the ship off Cape Town. That was when we learned everything was wrong, Russia was divided, the history all a mess.”
“Volkov,” said Kamenski. “I’m afraid I’m to blame for that. I was the one who ordered him to look for Fedorov on the Trans-Siberian rail line. In truth, I was just trying to get rid of the rascal, but way leads on to way. I should always remember that. He caused a great deal of mischief when he got to Ilanskiy. It’s a long story. But I think I need to hear the rest of your tale. I’m well aware of what happened after you made your rendezvous with Kirov—the fighting in the Med, your little mission to try and close the Dardanelles, the move through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Atlantic, and that business with the German Navy. Then what?”
“Then I got quite a shock. We detected an odd sound.”
“A sound?”
“Yes, Chernov had it on his sonar. He’s very good, but this one really had him stumped.” He remembered it now, thinking back to that moment when Chernov first made the report.
“Sir, I picked up an odd signal on the ultralow sonic bands. We get message traffic down there, but this could not be anything coming from our world.”
“No,” said Gromyko. “I don’t suppose it could. Then what is it?”
“I’m not exactly certain yet, Captain. But it has structure. It’s an organized signal—a kind of pulsing wave. It isn’t random, and it isn’t geothermal or of seismic origin. I was just running recordings through some filters to double check that.”
“Let me hear it.”
“Sir? Oh, that won’t work. The signal is below the threshold of our hearing. You might sense it, on one level, but not with your ears—unless they are very good.”
“Very well, Chernov. Carry on, but don’t forget that the Germans might have U-boats out here too.”
“Don’t worry about that, sir. I’ll hear anything that comes within 50 nautical miles of us—even a diesel boat.”
And then he did hear something, only it wasn’t a German U-boat, but another submarine, a British sub this time, but it certainly wasn’t from the 1940s…
“Con…. Undersea contact. Possible submarine…”
“German U-boat?”
“Sir… This sounds like a British sub.”
“British? We were not informed they had anything out here.”
“Sir! This is crazy. It’s reading as Astute Class! We got lucky and recorded one boat after learning its deployment date. It’s the only profile we’ve ever managed to get, but my readings are above a 90% match for this signal.”
“Impossible.”
Gromyko could still hear himself saying that word. Yes, everything he had been about since Volsky first tapped him for an unscheduled mission had been that way—impossible, and now here he was facing that same impossibility yet again. Then a deeper instinct had asserted itself, reptilian, a reflex born of many hours beneath the sea. “All stop!” he had shouted. “Launch noisemaker sled number one. Then right rudder fifteen, down bubble fifteen! Rig for emergency silent running!”
“Astute class?” said Kamenski. “Let me see… Astute was the first, of course, then came Ambush, Artful, Audacious, Anson, and Agamemnon. Those boats are all in service here today. They rushed to get Agamemnon ready early, given the political situation we’re facing now. Boat seven won’t join the fleet for at least another year, the Ajax.”
“Well it must have been one of those first six then. How it got to the 1940s eludes me, but perhaps you could explain it.”
“That isn’t something I witnessed, but if it came from our time, as it had to, then it might have been displaced as a result of the war. The way things are going here, all it will take is a mistake or two so set off a nuke, And when one goes off, the others are sure to follow.”
“I’m afraid I may have made that same mistake,” said Gromyko. “It was pure instinct, pure reflex. One minute I’m stalking the German Navy, the next I’m under attack by a modern day Spearfish torpedo! You don’t sit down with tea to think something like that over. You just react, which is what I did. Given the situation we were facing, I reached for a hammer.”
“I see,” said Kamenski. “A nuclear hammer, I suppose, and here you are. Very interesting. Well Mister Gromyko, we’re going to use another tool in the tool box this time, Rod-25, all new, never used, and at the height of its powers. You’re going back. The last time you used it the poor thing had been through many shifts. It was old, just like I am, and not quite up to the job. Let’s hope we cannot say the same for me now, and that this decision to send you back is a correct one. But a great deal goes with you. Understand?”
“I suppose so,” said Gromyko.
“As soon as I complete the missile bay refit, your boat will be ready. I’ll put my own people on it—very reliable. The new VLS Modules will install seamlessly in your existing bays. You’re getting the Zircons, hypersonic cruise missiles, over five times the speed of sound. Use them if you must, but Captain….” Kamenski paused now, thinking, and then looking like he was trying to remember something. His eyes had a distant look, as though he were seeing something that had not yet come to pass, a vision, a warning, a whisper in his soul that led him to make one further admonition to Gromyko.
“This submarine,” he began. “This Astute Class submarine you say you encountered. Should you run across it again, I would do everything possible to let it be.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, but he could feel it, sense it as necessary, as imperative, though he did not know why.