“South… How far south. Mister Nikolin?”
“Sir, I first got a whiff of it two days ago. Rodenko was trying to help me by routing in a top mast antenna for better reception. Since we know where the enemy might be, I focused my search to the south, and set up a fingerprinting profile to look for anything suspicious in the traffic analysis. It’s been very intermittent, but a couple signals got my attention. They were in high frequency bands that would not normally be used in the 1940s, and they were hopping like mad. Someone didn’t want us to have a listen sir, and they had the means of protecting those transmissions with some very modern signals techniques.”
“Modern techniques. We are the only systems that could be called modern out here.”
“But they weren’t ours, sir. I’m certain.”
That got Fedorov’s attention. He looked over his shoulder listening carefully as Nikolin continued explaining what he had done, and then stepped into the conversation. “This is something we should pay attention to,” he said. “How frequent were these transmissions?”
“I’ve only heard three,” said Nikolin, “and nothing in the last twelve hours.”
“And the others?”
“All within this 24 hour period.” He handed Fedorov his SIGINT chart.
“That would be the time we suspected landing operations from Hokkaido were underway,” he said, looking to Karpov.
“Most likely communications related to that,” said the Admiral. “Well, we already know they’ve sent at least two regiments. It’s not a concern at this point.”
“No sir, it’s not the traffic, but the method of transmission here. Look at the frequency bands noted on Nikolin’s chart. Nobody uses those channels, and look at this data on the frequency hopping. That could only be accomplished by computer controlled electronics. It just isn’t the sort of thing vacuum tube equipment can do here.”
“You’re saying these signals were sent by modern day equipment?”
“Correct, and the fact that we can’t read them is even more of a red flag. Nobody in the Pacific should have anything even approaching that capability for signals encryption.”
Karpov’s eyes narrowed. “I see…”
“Sir,” Fedorov lowered his voice. “There are some matters I think we should discuss privately.”
“Alright. Walk with me, Mister Fedorov. I need some air.”
Out on the weather deck, Fedorov cleared his throat and set sail. “Sir, there are a few things you may not be aware of. While you were focused on building up your position here in Siberia, remember that Volsky and I had Kirov in the Atlantic.”
“How could I forget,” said Karpov, his voice laden with a tone that revealed some displeasure, though he did not take it any further than that.
“Yes… well you already know that Kirov was not the only vessel from our Russian navy to visit here. In the Atlantic and the Med, we encountered a few other… situations.”
“That has an ominous ring to it. What do you mean?”
“It’s a fairly long story, but seen as though you are an Allied head of state now, you may as well know it. There is another modern day ship at sea in the Atlantic, a British ship.”
“What? You mean a modern British ship of war?”
“Not exactly, but yes. This was a private ship, though it was purchased from the Royal Navy, a Daring Class Destroyer that was then heavily upgraded and modified to be a corporate security vessel for a small oil conveyor, a company called Fairchild Enterprises.”
“It’s here? Now?”
“That it is.”
“But how is that possible? We had Rod 25—that’s what moved both Kirov and then Kazan around, yes?”
“That and something more. Did you initiate a rod replacement cycle during your engagement with the 7th Fleet? No. It was in the Primorskiy Engineering Center, sending me on my little train ride to look for Orlov.”
“That was a very fateful ride,” said Karpov.
“It was, but the point I am making is that Kirov moved, and on that occasion there was no nuclear event involved either.”
“That Demon Volcano,” said Karpov, remembering it all now. One moment they were sailing in the massive ash fall shadow of a VEI Level 7 Ultra-Plinian Super-Colossal volcanic eruption, with tsunami driven seas and ashen skies that blotted out the sun itself, sending them into a limbo of brimstone and pumice—then they were suddenly cruising on quiet seas, with a strange tinge of green fire in the ocean, and pristine white cumulus clouds in an azure blue sky. The distant silhouette of the Kuriles was calm and undisturbed. There was no sign of the eruption at all….
“So large explosive events can cause time displacement,” said Fedorov, “and that volcano was one hell of an explosion. Your proximity to the volcano may have been the reason you fell through.”
“Yes,” said Karpov, “to 1945, and with Orlan and Admiral Golovko with me as well.”
“No magic control rods involved on any of those ships.”
“Alright Fedorov, you’ve made your point. What are you getting at with all this?”
“This ship we encountered in the Med came through somehow. I later learned that one cause could have been a missile strike aimed at its location in 2021. That aside, it was there, right in the middle of a rollicking fight with the Germans and Italian navies, and it’s still operating in the Atlantic today.”
“How very interesting,” said Karpov. “Then that could not be the ship responsible for these signals intercepts, could it.”
“Most unlikely.”
“And you were not secretly receiving a transmission from someone else using modern day equipment, eh?”
“Sir? Me?”
“Don’t look so surprised, Fedorov. You know that would be something I would have to consider. Volsky may be gone now, but you and the British became a nice little cadre there for a while—comrades all.”
“Well you can discard that notion,” said Fedorov. “I’m not secretly sending and receiving signals.”
“Could anyone else be doing so aboard ship?”
“Who? I doubt that very much, sir.”
“Then these signals Nikolin reported are coming from another source. Do you have any theories?”
“Well… There was just another major VEI 7 eruption at Krakatoa. Ships in the vicinity may have been affected.”
“Blown to hell, or elsewhere,” said Karpov with a grim smile.
“What I’m suggesting, sir, is that when there is a big event like that, the integrity of the continuum is profoundly disturbed. You fell through, along with Orlan and Admiral Golovko, and other ships could have fallen through during that event as well. But the key thing I’m trying to convey is this—if there’s a hole opening in time, things can go both ways….”
“You mean… things could fall into that hole from the future? How so? The explosive event occurred here, in 1942. I could see how it might blow away a nearby ship, but how could anything get here from some future time?”
“Well, if there was an explosion below decks, and it was powerful enough, it could rupture this deck—and you and I could fall through the hole. Understand? Krakatoa was a massive eruption. We have no way of knowing how far into the continuum its effects propagated. If it reached into modern times, our day….”
“I get the picture. What you are saying is that we could be looking at the possibility of uninvited guests.”
“We just may, sir. Something is out there on the VHF band sending signals they don’t want anyone else to hear, and using a method that requires modern electronics. We’d best be careful here until we know more.”