Paradox Hour

Chapter 10

The first of the Swordfish came lumbering in towards Kaiser Wilhelm, low and slow. 823 Squadron was not supposed to be flying that day. After the loss of Glorious in Fedorov’s history, it was disbanded at RAF Watson, and not reformed until November of 1941. But that had never happened. Now Lieutenant Commander Elles was leading out the first subflight of four planes, with eight more racing to get airborne as Glorious ran south. Falkson, Jacobsen and McNamara were up with him, and they would be quick to the target looming on the horizon.

Expecting the attack, and actually seeing the planes taking off, the German AA gunners were ready. They soon began filling the skies with the dark puffs of their flak guns, knowing each plane out there had a torpedo on its belly that could wreak havoc if it found their ship. Of this first subflight, only three planes would get close enough to launch, with McNamara going into the sea after being hit by a 3.7cm round.

On the bridge of Kaiser Wilhelm, Captain Heinrich saw them coming. Two were going to be wide off the mark, but the third required him to come fifteen points to starboard, and fall off briefly to 30 knots, the ship turning just in time to avoid the lance. This is what we’ll be doing until sunset if I don’t get at that carrier, he thought. It would be dangerous work, but if the bear wants the honey, he must risk getting stung by the bees. Heinrich wanted that honey, for the sinking of a carrier would be a prize to rival any other obtained by the Kriegsmarine to date in the war.

Ede, Purdy, Vickery and Williams were next on deck, rumbling forward through the diminishing smoke on the bow, as the damage control teams slowly put out the fires. This time the German flak was even better aimed, as they had adjusted to the slower moving targets. Purdy would not get a chance to launch his torpedo, and Ede’s plane was riddled with shrapnel, his left arm nicked with the near miss explosion, and bleeding. He requested permission to jettison his torpedo and fly for home, but Lieutenant Commander Elles was still up in his plane, circling and spotting, and he would hear nothing of that.

“Get your fish in the sea alright,” he said on the radio. “But be bloody well sure you aim it at the Germans! Otherwise none of us may get home.”

It was a point well made, and Ede relied on his good arm to make do, pulling his Swordfish around again and coming in very low. The German gunners were on to him again, soon pocking up the sky, with some rounds hitting the wave tops as Ede came in. He got lined up, pulled right a bit to lead his target, and let loose. Yet the British pilots were making a mistake. They were accustomed to judging the speed of a large ship like this at no more than 28 knots. Most of their target practice runs had been on ships steaming at even slower speeds. They were not leading the target enough for Kaiser’s speedy 36 knots, and both Ede and Vickery saw the ship slip by, leaving their torpedoes in its wake.

Williams saw what was happening and changed the angle of his attack at the last minute, and he would force Captain Heinrich to dance again, this time with a turn hard to port to literally run ahead of the oncoming torpedo, which had no more than a four knot speed advantage on Kaiser. Williams saw the ship turn to run parallel to his torpedo, nearly as fast, and the British would be frustrated again.

Yet all these maneuvers did one key thing, they bought valuable time for Captain Wells aboard Glorious, still running south at his best speed behind as much smoke as his destroyers could give him. Sheffield was maneuvering to join him, and Coventry was still providing close support in case any more German Stukas showed up. The German pilots were now very close, but this time they were ME-109Ts.

Marco Ritter was smiling when he saw the second flight of Swordfish fluttering well below him like cumbersome moths. He wanted to get down there immediately, but first things first. There were four Fulmar fighters up on top cover, and he needed to deal with them. He was high enough to challenge them, but tipped his nose up to get more elevation as he signaled Heilich and Ehuler to follow him.

“Only four this time,” he said. “They are making it too easy!”

His Messerschmitt climbed steadily, a faster and more maneuverable plane then the British Fighter. It was well armed with two 20mm canons on the wings and a pair of 7.92mm MG-17 machineguns on the fuselage above the engine. Ritter was quick to get on the tail of the first Fulmar, and had it ready for his 20mm cannons. He pulled the trigger and got off a short burst, but then something unexpected happened, a result of the feverish turnaround performed by the aircrews back on the Goeben. The ammo feeder jammed on his right cannon, causing his attack to fail. If that were not enough, the left cannon was not even reloaded! He pressed his trigger again, and realized his wing guns were dead.

The delay and distraction was just enough for his prey to wheel away, and try to swing up in a wide loop to come around and attack. The Fairy Fulmar had been built thinking its principle adversary might be twin engine bombers. As such, the design sacrificed traditional fighter assets like speed and maneuverability for longer range and better armament. Though the Fulmar was not as agile as the German plane, it now enjoyed a considerable advantage in firepower, with four 7.7mm Browning “303s” in each wing, or eight machineguns to the two remaining on the nose of Ritter’s Messerschmitt. There was also a rear cockpit gunner in the Fulmar with a Vickers K firing from the cabin, so winning the air dance and getting on an adversaries tail was no guarantee you would not be hit. In spite of its liabilities against other single seat fighters, the Fulmar would produce nine aces in Fedorov’s history books, and get 112 kills, more than any other F.A.A. fighter in the war.

It was going to come down to guts and flying skill now, and Marco Ritter had both in abundance. He was able to evade the attacking pass, breaking right as the dogfight was on. Heilich and Euhler were up after the other three fighters, leaving Ritter alone with this single plane. He had reasoned out that his best bet with this new British plane was to try and make his attack run above and perpendicular to the enemy plane, raking the fuselage and wings instead of trying his luck against that rear gunner, and holding on to the enemy’s tail while he was being fired upon.

Yet today Ritter was up against a fairly skilled pilot, a man who had come over to Glorious from the Illustrious, Lieutenant Commander Alfred ‘Jack’ Sewell. Known as “Jackie” to his mates, he had flown Fulmars in the Med, and had logged twelve kills thus far, seven against the Italian SM-79 tri-engine bomber, and the other five against seaplanes. He had yet to face a good fighter like the 109T, or a pilot like Ritter, but the two men put on quite a show in the skies above the naval chase, with Ritter using his speed and maneuverability to dodge the heavy firepower of those eight Browning 303s, while trying to get into position to put his two machineguns to good use.

The duel resulted in a draw, with Ritter’s wing nipped by the flashing rounds of the other planes fire on one occasion, and the Fulmar taking a bite that nearly hit the rear gunner on the fuselage. But Ritter was soon out of ammunition, sorely missing the hard hitting 20mm wing cannons now.

Damn, he thought, I’ve no more teeth. It’s all wings and tail for me now. All I can do is wheel about this fellow and hope to scare him off. So that is what I’ll have to do, stay in the fight until I can see what Heilich and Euhler can do. One enemy plane was already down, making the odds three to three now, and Ritter came around in a wide turn before pulling a maneuver on his pursuer that surprised the other pilot. He swung up and over, finding himself in a perfect position to fire, and could only curse as he squeezed his guns to no avail. That would have been a kill, he knew. Then the duel became a game for him, to see how many times he could get what he knew would be a sure kill on his adversary, and he counted three before Euhler came flashing down from above and rattled off a quick burst.

“What’s the matter Marco?” came a voice in Ritter’s ear. “Why don’t you shoot?”

“Nothing left!” said Ritter in return, and he knew that he should stop this nonsense now and get back to the Goeben to chew on the necks of the air crews.

The British lost two Fulmars in the engagement, and the other two were driven off, one with damage, though Jackie Sewell had managed to come away unscathed. In a better plane, he might have given Ritter a run for his money, but for now, with two mates down and a third in trouble, discretion was the better part of valor. He kept looking for enemy Stukas, saw none, and decided to vanish into a cloud to see if he could evade the German fighters and stay aloft to lend a hand if the dive bombers appeared.

Back on the Kaiser, Kapitan Heinrich watched the air duel with a smile, knowing he was out of the woods now. At the same time, the fighter cover advantage he now had, meant that he was pressing the line by persisting here in his chase. His main battery had been silent for some time, with the gun directors unable to pick out the target through the heavy smoke. All these engagements, beginning with the pluck and determination of Colin Maud on the Icarus, and right on through to those Swordfish crews, had cost him precious time. His many maneuvers in dodging torpedoes had enabled the British to slip over the horizon again, and now he knew that he was only going to close that range at a speed advantage of five or six knots. It might take him an hour to shave 10,000 meters off that range, and he was still clearly in defiance of a direct order by the fleet Admiral to break off this engagement.

He sighed, giving his Chief Gunnery officer Schirmer, a wan look. “We’re going to have to turn on 300,” he said.

“But we have them, Kapitan. Another twenty or thirty minutes and we’ll be back in good range.”

“Yes? Well I have orders. Look at that smoke, Schirmer. Another twenty minute run will get us closer, but you still might not be able to see anything. In the meantime, the British will still try to launch everything they have left at us, and I will have a good deal to explain to Admiral Lütjens if I stay on this heading. So it can’t be helped.”

He turned to a signalman. “Inform Admiral Lütjens we are back on our designated heading, and have the navigator estimate our arrival time. Helm, come about to three-zero-zero at once. Maintain speed. A cruiser and a destroyer are not bad pickings for our first engagement. As for the carrier, perhaps another time.” There would be no honey for the bear this day.

But there would be a sting…

Even as Kaiser turned, the alarm was raised again when another British plane was reported approaching off the port bow, a lone Swordfish that had been lost in the smoke of the battle, and not seen until it emerged from a low cloud. The gunners were quick to react, re-training to engage this new target, and Heinrich watched coolly as the skies began to blossom with dark fire.

The plane came on, low and slow, steady at first, until the flak began to rake the sea around it, and the pilot jogged to one side in an evasive maneuver. The gun directors were shouting, the 2.0cm guns rattling with an awful racket, and the 3.7cm batteries were cracking with their steady fire. One round was very close, but the plane continued to bore in on them, dogged to the last.

This pilot is either very stupid, or very brave, thought Heinrich. Then he looked up, and saw a Messerschmitt diving from above and well behind the enemy plane, swooping down in a long arc towards the sea. The excitement of the engagement had the crew out on the decks in spite of the danger. They were hooping and shouting, whistling as the gunners poured on the fire. When they saw that Messerschmitt swooping down, a loud cheer went through the ranks, and Heinrich smiled.

Yet the smile seemed to hang on his cheeks for a time, slackening, until his eyes registered growing alarm. He should have launched by now, he thought. What’s he doing? Come on! Get that plane! It was driving in, right over the wave tops, closer and closer. Now he saw the Messerschmitt pulling out of its dive, roaring in pursuit as it streaked over the water.

The German fighter was close enough to fire, but the Swordfish fired first. Heinrich saw the dark lance fall from its belly, and he knew that they were in trouble. The plane had come in through fire and hell to make that attack, and the pilot would not survive. The Swordfish was riddled by machinegun fire, then finally hit by the flak. It went cartwheeling into the sea as the crew cheered the kill, but it had delivered its barb before it died. Now Heinrich turned quickly, shouting an order to the helm.

“Belay that last order! Come hard to port!” The ship was turning right into the path of the torpedo, and now it was down to these last desperate seconds as the helmsman pulled the wheel hard over and Kaiser Wilhelm lurched in response.

Kapitan Heinrich was out through the hatch to the weather deck, his hands gripping the gunwale as he leaned over to look for the oncoming torpedo. It was going to be close…. Very close….

Kaiser turned, its sleek bow coming around in a boiling swell, and then Heinrich’s eyes widened as he saw they would not evade. The torpedo came in and struck the ship on its starboard side. The explosion sent up a fountain of seawater, and the ship rolled with the hit.

Pilot Michael Bently was dead in the sea, but he had braved the fire and guns to even the score. Heinrich rushed back onto the main bridge, quickly giving the order ‘All Stop’ to slow the ship and assess the damage. It was soon learned that the torpedo had struck the bulwark, but still managed to penetrate and blow a good hole in the starboard side hull. The flood doors were down in that sector, and the engineers were on the scene.

Fifteen minutes later the news came that they would have to slow speed to no more than 10 knots while the damage control crews fought to get the situation in hand. Heinrich cursed under his breath. So much for chasing carriers, he thought. Now he would have to send yet another message to Lütjens to explain this fiasco. His neck reddened as he thought about that, realizing there would be a good many questions concerning his actions here. If this damage was heavy, it could mean he would be forced to return to Gibraltar, or a French port.

In one brave act, a single man had traded his life to get this hit, but it was to impact the entire mission. Heinrich looked at Schirmer, then turned and walked off the bridge, heading below to meet with the engineers. You wanted that damn carrier, he thought as he went. Be careful what you wish for…

Chapter 11

Aboard Hindenburg, Lütjens was pacing, and waiting for news of what was happening with Kaiser Wilhelm. At last a messenger came up, handing him a decrypt from the fleet cypher unit: “NOW ON DESIGNATED COURSE – EXPECT CONTACT IN 40 MINUTES.”

At last, he thought. I will have all my sheep in the flock again, though this one has proven to be quite the wolf. “Kaiser is now moving to rejoin us,” he said casually to Adler, extending the professional courtesy of informing him of the message contents.

“Don’t look so glum, Adler. Kapitan Heinrich has already acquitted himself well in sinking those two British ships. Now we get out into the Atlantic to look for our real prey, the convoys.”

“We will have to get well to the west,” said Adler. “The British certainly know we are here, and I am told the U-Boats have had slim pickings on routes from the UK to Freetown.”

“When the sharks are in the water,” said Lütjens, “the little fish do not feed so well,” but Adler simply proffered a thin smile. The two men were on the weather deck now, away from other ears on the bridge. The Admiral could perceive the cold in Adler, a chill that was almost disdainful. He decided to sound out his Kapitan and end this nonsense once and for all.

“You do not agree with my recent decisions, Kapitan?”

“What difference would it make,” said Adler quickly. “The Admiral clearly has plans that do not involve the sinking of British capital ships.”

“Speak your mind, Adler. Do you not understand my reasoning here? I could not afford to risk the Kaiser Wilhelm. We need that ship.”

“For what, sir? If you are unwilling to pursue a wounded carrier in a situation like this, then what good are those 15-inch guns on the Kaiser?”

Lütjens smiled. “You may think it a glamorous thing to hunt down that carrier. Yes, I could turn now with everything we have and do exactly that, but have you forgotten what you just said a moment ago? The British know we are here. They will be maneuvering this very moment to bring ships with guns of their own into this little adventure. A fleet attack on that carrier would take time, more than I am willing to spend just now. Instead I will use that time to maneuver to evade the enemy, while pursuing our primary objective—the sinking of British merchant shipping. Believe it or not, Adler, that is what will either win or lose this war for us.”

“Yet now you will leave this aircraft carrier in our wake, sir. Do not be surprised if they follow that wake. They will be able to match our speed, and shadow us with planes.”

Lütjens smiled. “So now you are not so enthusiastic about our pilots off the Goeben?”

“They will do their job, Admiral, but you and I both know that if the British persist, they will be able to maintain a good general fix on our location. So the advantage will be theirs, as they will now maneuver heavy ships to intercept us, just as you say.”

“Perhaps,” said Lütjens. “And then you fight your battle, Adler. Until then, we move west for the convoys out of Halifax. And don’t forget that we may soon be joined there by the Tirpitz battlegroup and Graf Zeppelin. Then we will truly have a fleet at sea.”

At that point a runner came onto the weather bridge, saluting as he handed Lütjens yet another message. It was a fleet intercept concerning a planned rendezvous at sea, and Lütjens stared at it for some time, not quite knowing what to make of it.

“This is from Wilhelmshaven,” he said at last. “It is signed by Admiral Raeder, but it makes no sense.”

Adler raised an eyebrow, leaning to glance at the message. “What do you mean, Admiral?”

“Apparently the British have an important shipment at sea just now—so important that they chose to utilize the hold of a battleship instead of sending it in normal convoy traffic. Look here, this message details presumed course, speed, and destination for a British man-o-war, the HMS Rodney. Raeder is ordering us to intercept! What’s gotten into that man? What could be so important that it had to be shipped on a battleship?”

“It could be that they have an important high level delegation at sea, Admiral. Perhaps even Churchill himself.”

“Yet it says nothing of the kind here in this message. If this were so, why wouldn’t Raeder advise me properly? Here we are, set to make our breakout, and now we get orders to find this battleship! This is ridiculous!”

Now it was Adler’s turn to give Lütjens an admonishing look. “A moment ago you were bemoaning your overzealous subordinates, Admiral. Now who is chafing at the bit when orders come from senior authorities?”

Lütjens did not appreciate the remark, but he said nothing more. He was considering what this cryptic message could be about. He wasn’t here to chase after high level officials. This was not like Raeder to make such a dramatic change to the operational plan in mid stream like this. Something was going on here that he could not yet fathom, and he wanted to get to the bottom of this at once.

“I will be in the wireless room,” he said to Adler. “You have the bridge, Kapitan.”

Adler watched him go, glad to look about him and realize that he was now the man in charge here. He shook his head, still inwardly bemoaning the lost opportunity here. In a few hours they would lose the light, making pursuit very difficult. They should have turned long ago, and by now they should be pounding that British carrier with the guns of Bismarck and Hindenburg. This business concerning the British battleship was very strange, and the orders to adjust course to look for it even stranger. Yet it may do one thing, he thought. Lütjens won’t be able to find a way to squirm off after the convoys this time. Those orders come directly from Admiral Raeder. If we do find that ship, then I finally get my battle.

This ship wasn’t built to chase steamers and oilers. No. It was built to face down the Royal Navy, and beat them. And that is exactly what I intend to do.

When Lütjens reached the wireless room, the news he had been dreading was waiting for him. Kaiser Wilhelm had been hit by a torpedo! He gritted his teeth, his hand stroking his chin as he took the message and read it with growing anger.

It was just as I feared, he thought. Adler had only one thing in mind, and Heinrich was too damn eager for a fight. I will have to sit the both of them down and knock their heads together! So now what? He kept looking at the message, hoping to find his answer there, but the words were stark and cold… TORPEDO HIT TO STARBOARD SIDE… The ship was still underway. Perhaps the damage was not all that serious, but Kaiser did not have the armor of the bigger ships, and he had grave misgivings about this now.

One message came after another, and he read them with growing concern. The Italians reported that a flotilla of three enemy ships were maneuvering to run the Sicilian narrows. They had launched an air strike, but encountered rocket air defense fire! That sent a chill down his spine, as it could mean only one thing. I’ll bet my grandchildren that this is HMS Invincible. Bold of them to try and move west through the Med like that, but very much like the Royal Navy I know. Desperate circumstances call for desperate acts. How do they think they will get through our defenses at Gibraltar?

Yet even as he thought that, the situation they now faced with Kaiser Wilhelm weighed heavily on him. They would have to slow and effect a rendezvous with Kaiser. Darkness was just a few hours off, but tonight they should be able to assess the damage and determine whether the ship was still able to operate effectively.

Yet this will cost me eight hours or more, he thought. I could be well out to sea in that time, and in a good position to plan my convoy actions. Now this strange order to alter course and deliberately seek battle with a British battleship! What was Raeder thinking?

Soon we will have those battlecruisers sniffing about, and I must still consider that carrier to the south. Kaiser gave this Force H a bloody nose, but not without a cost. Everything is a trade off. There is always risk in any engagement, and we must never think we are invulnerable here. Yes, we have the best ship in the fleet, but I can already feel the air thickening around us. The British are following with the best they have, and there will be threats ahead if we alter course as Raeder orders. Damn! I need more information!

“Send a message to Wilhelmshaven,” he said. “Request clarification on last order. Indicate Kaiser Wilhelm struck by torpedo, and say we are loitering on these coordinates to make a full damage assessment. Ask for an immediate reply.”

Just after midnight, in the early hours of May 5th, Kirov was in position to run the Straits of Gibraltar. They had been monitoring signals traffic, on both sides, and Nikolin had a great deal to report to Admiral Volsky. They finally had news that the Germans had engaged Force H off Cape Saint Vincent, and inflicted some harm, but not without taking a scratch themselves. The Germans had reported one of their ships had taken a torpedo hit, and some hours later, as Kirov approached Gibraltar, they learned that Kaiser Wilhelm had detached from the main body and was now heading north.

“They are probably making for Brest,” said Fedorov.

“Most likely, said Volsky. “Which means that torpedo hit was significant enough to hamper that ship’s speed, and one more thing. It also means they are well aware of our presence here. Gibraltar was much closer, yet they do not turn about for that port, or Casablanca further south. So they are not all that confident about stopping us here after all.”

“Agreed, sir,” said Fedorov, “though we do not yet know what they are planning. This engagement with Force H left the enemy about 400 kilometers west of Lisbon. That puts us about 900 kilometers behind them now. That is sixteen hours at full speed, and twenty hours ahead two thirds.”

“Something tells me they will not be waiting for us all that time, Mister Fedorov.”

“It’s this latest enigma intercept that I’m most concerned about,” said Fedorov. “We may not have such a long chase ahead of us. Wilhelmshaven has ordered Lütjens to alter course to the northeast. I was thinking he would head due west at this point, but these orders to intercept Rodney are most alarming. I can see no reason for such an order. Why would they deliberately seek an engagement with a British heavy warship, just when they are in the perfect position to run west for the convoys?”

“The Germans obviously learned of this King’s business you told me about,” said Volsky. “So the Rodney is carrying a belly full of gold bullion, and these artifacts from the British Museum. What were they called?”

“The Elgin Marbles, sir. Parts of a carved relief taken from the Parthenon. Thomas Bruce, the 7th Earl of Elgin, excavated and transported them to England over a period of years, between 1801 and 1812. They are very valuable in and of themselves, but the fact that this key is possibly still embedded in the Selene Horse makes them priceless.”

“Could the Germans know about this key?”

“I do not see how, yet we know very little about all of this. Miss Fairchild said the Watch knew of these keys. They were very secret, but imagine my surprise to learn that Director Kamenski had such a key in his possession, and for many decades!”

“That is very strange,” said Volsky. “There is more to that man than meets the eye, Fedorov. He’s like an onion, layer after layer. At first I thought he was merely working with the Inspector General, then he produced that letter you deposited in the Naval Logistics building, and those photographs. Yes! He had photos taken by the British when we last sailed through these straits. Remember?”

“Only too well, sir. That seems like a lifetime ago now. Back then we had just made our peace with Admiral Tovey, and we were en-route to Saint Helena. Now here he is, steaming in our wake as an ally, and on a ship that was never supposed to have been built!”

“This has been a most remarkable journey,” Volsky agreed. “Yet what you say about these keys is very alarming. What are they for, Fedorov?”

“I’ve spent some time piecing it all together, sir. Both Kamenski and I now agree that it all dates back to 1908, the Tunguska Event. That impact did more than level trees in Siberia and provide fodder for the fire of many stories and legends thereafter. It also fractured the fourth dimension, time. It seems that several fissures resulted, like cracks in that mirror, as I tried to explain it before. Some were discovered, and because of the obvious danger should anyone move through them to another time, they were well secured and guarded.”

“By who?” Volsky scratched his head.

“This we do not really know, but we now believe it was done by the same people who made these keys—the same who sent those signals back through time to the ships of the Watch.”

“Then men from the future did all this?”

“I know it sounds fantastic, sir, but considering the fact that we are men from the future meddling about here makes it easier to believe.”

“How did these keys appear here, in the past? You say Director Kamenski has had one for decades?”

“They must have been brought here,” said Fedorov, “possibly by using the very same time rifts they secured. I’m not sure how long the Watch knew about them, or how they came into their possession. Kamenski didn’t say how he came by his key, though he alluded that it was probably obtained by the KGB. Who knows when?”

“The British have keys too?”

“Miss Fairchild certainly has one. She used it to activate one of the rift sites, at Delphi.”

“How many keys are there, Fedorov? Did you learn that?”

“Fairchild says they knew of at least two others. One was in the possession of another member of the Watch, though she did not name that person, and she said nothing about any time rift associated with that key. The second was in the Selene Horse, aboard Rodney.”

“What about Ilanskiy?” Volsky asked the obvious question. “Is there a key for that rift?”

“The British knew nothing of that,” said Fedorov. “In fact, I may have been the one to first discover it. Even these men in the future did not know about it, which leads me to think that our mission, the ship, my actions, are deeply implicated in all of this. We’re a wild card in the deck, sir.”

“But you say those stairs took you back to 1908, Fedorov. That means anyone could have used them. It’s a long way between 1908 and the 1940s where you stumbled upon it. We know Sergei Kirov used them, and Volkov. Look what resulted!”

“True, sir. That’s very worrisome. All the other rift zones were well guarded, but not Ilanskiy. I think this is what unhinged the key makers plan—Ilanskiy.”

“What plan do you speak of?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but I’ve been thinking about all this for some time. If men in the future discovered these time rifts and secured them, then they were obviously trying to prevent this Grand Finality Miss Fairchild told us about. But they failed—at least that is what Fairchild believes. She tells me the voices went silent. The watch stopped receiving instructions, and their last message urged them to gather and secure all the keys to the rift zones, and one thing more. It was a warning.”

“About this calamity you mention?”

“In one sense, but it was much more specific. It was about us.”

“About us? You mean the ship?”

“Yes sir. That is why Tovey founded the Watch, to keep vigil for our next possible appearance.”

“Yes, and understandably so,” said Volsky. “But this sounds a little more sinister, Fedorov. You say they were told to secure all these keys, but then they are warned about us? What do these men from the future think we are going to do?”

“I don’t know, sir…” Fedorov had a frustrated look on his face now. “When I first heard about these keys, these other rifts, I thought I could finally set down the burden I have been carrying, thinking all this was on my shoulders.”

“On our shoulders, Fedorov, the ship and every man aboard. Do not be so greedy and try to take all the blame yourself.”

“I have tried, sir, but learning about this warning leads me to suspect our part in this tale has not yet run its course. We’re going to do something. This is how I see things now. We’re going to do something that could make it impossible to prevent this calamity Fairchild talks about—this Grand Finality.”

“And it has something to do with these keys?”

“Apparently so, sir. The thing is this…. We don’t know what we may do, or fail to do. Here we are trying to help Fairchild secure this key. Our whole mission to get after the Germans has suddenly become a race to find and protect the battleship Rodney. And this latest message Nikolin decrypted indicates that the German operation has also been re-focused on that as well. It’s as if the lines of fate are setting course for some distant rendezvous point, a nexus point, and I’m not sure what is supposed to happen there. We are living all this through moment by moment, and groping like blind men.”

“You want certainty, Fedorov, but you know that is impossible. There is no way we could know this.”

“But there is, sir. We’ve seen the results of our actions. We can look ahead in time and know what we have done. These men from the future might also know. To them this would all be history, but they have gone silent. The only thing we have is that last warning. Beware a ship… beware Kirov…”

Admiral Volsky frowned. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

Chapter 12

Aboard Kazan, Gromyko was the first element of the allied task force to open the action. The keen ears and sensitive sonar equipment on the sub had detected a pair of German U-boats creeping silently in the narrow straits. There were six stationed at the new German base, but four of them were out in the sea lanes off Casablanca lying in wait for British convoy traffic to Freetown. Aside from the two remaining, there were only a few captured trawlers, oilers and merchant ships in the harbor. The only surface assets the Germans had in the region were with Lütjens. Though the French had superb destroyer assets, they were still operating from Casablanca.

This basic lack of a sound cooperative effort had hindered the Axis fleets earlier, and it was also going to severely weaken their defense of Gibraltar. The Germans relied on these two U-boats, thinking they would be more than enough to fill the narrow channel with torpedoes against any surface group attempting to pass. Beyond that, there were six Stukas and six fighters staged at the small airport, along with a number of seaplanes and a few JU-88s.

It was clear that the Germans had yet to fully appreciate the strategic value of the prize they had taken. They had not placed anti-submarine defenses, thinking their U-Boat defense was sufficient. The mines they had sewn were largely in fields designed to protect the entrance to the harbor, and the only anti-submarine nets were there as well. As for shore batteries, the British had destroyed all their guns before the Rock fell into enemy hands, and the Germans had simply thought to rely on regular artillery. They had not yet installed radar sets, and relied on aerial reconnaissance to detect any approaching threat. Fedorov had chosen the darkness of early May 5 to make this run, conditions that would make German air attacks very chancy. The moon set at 02:53 that morning, so it was completely black, and all the ships were running dark.

Though the British task force had been spotted at sunset well to the east, approaching Algiers the previous day, the British continued in an attempt to deceive the enemy as to their real intentions. They sent signals in a code known to be compromised, and indicating that their planned mission to attack Algiers was well in hand. The messages indicated they would bombard the port and return to Alexandria this very day, striking Tunis on the return trip. When no attack occurred after sunset on the 4th of May, the Germans sent alerts to Gibraltar to be wary.

As a precaution, the Germans had two sea planes up just after sunset, to look for enemy shipping. They loitered for some time, patrolling east, and saw the oncoming British task force off Oran. Fedorov considered whether or not to shoot the planes down, but he realized the missile fire would announce their presence there in the Alboran Sea in any case. So the Germans knew trouble was coming, and the six Stukas were ready on the small airfield just after midnight as the U-boats moved into their defensive positions.

Viktor Schultze in U-103 and Heinrich Liebe in U-38 had the duty that day, lurking in the waters off Gibraltar. A hovering diesel boat would be very difficult for the enemy sonars to hear, or so they reasoned, but they had not counted on the advanced capabilities of Kazan, the skill of sonar operator Chernov, or even the presence of an enemy submarine at all. Their own U-boat fleet could have never kept pace with the fast moving surface ships, but for Kazan, this was no problem. They heard the U-boats easily enough, and Gromyko put two 533mm torpedoes in the water at 03:00. Seconds later the thump of two underwater explosions had laid bare the sea lanes from underwater threat.

The Stukas scrambled, launched, and soon met a similar fate as the Argos Fire easily put six Aster-15 missiles into the air. Not a single plane or pilot survived. Now the only remaining threat was from shore batteries, and Fedorov had planned to use the helicopter assets they had to easily spot the guns with their high powered optics and sensors. It was then a simple matter to use the deck guns, which outranged the enemy batteries and was able to strike them with accurate 152mm fire.

It all came down to the superior sensory capability of the modern ships. They could find and target the enemy defenses long before they had any chance to fire their weapons. So the Rock of Gibraltar did not prove to be very much of a barrier that night. By 04:00, the three surface ships had swept through the channel and were already in the Western Approaches, heading into the Atlantic.

“Well done, Captain,” said Volsky, congratulating Fedorov on his successful operation to run the straits.

“That was easier than we thought it would be,” said Fedorov. “I expected mines and much more air defense, and yet this make some sense after all. Gibraltar is really a backwaters base for the Axis. They don’t need it for their operations in the Med, and the Germans haven’t been able to move very many assets there beyond these U-Boats we encountered.”

“Having Kazan with us makes up for the loss of the bow sonar dome,” said Volsky.

“Yes sir, but even so, I think Tasarov would have been able to find those subs with our towed array and the KA-40.”

“So what is our situation now?”

“Admiral Tovey has indicated that Force H has moved south, away from the threat of surface interception. Their carrier Glorious took a single bomb hit, but is still operational, and it seems they managed to get a hit on one German ship.”

“The Hindenburg?”

“No sir, on the fast escort battlecruiser Kaiser Wilhelm. This is a new ship, one designed but never built in our history. I think the British got very lucky. That hit saw Lütjens linger here at slow speed for some time. Otherwise the lead they have would be much greater. At present, the last British sighting had them here, sir.”

He tapped the clear Plexiglas vertical panel, where a digital map was displayed in phosphorescent green. “That’s about 450 nautical miles to our northwest—twenty hours ahead two thirds, and fifteen hours ahead full at 30 knots. This blue dot here represents a pair of fast British battlecruisers. They are now about 250 nautical miles northwest of the Germans, and in a very good position to intercept, even if the Germans head due west now. They would not be wise to do so, however.”

“Oh? The odds are not in their favor?”

“No sir, they are fast at 32 knots, but carry only six 15-inch guns each. The Germans will have eighteen big guns between their two battleships, and they are much better armored. The British will most likely use those two ships to shadow the Germans, so we should have a much better fix on their position after they make first contact.”

“So now we rest a little easier in these waters, Fedorov. The Royal Navy is on our side this time, and for that, I am thankful.”

“True sir. They are a very professional force, and have good ships in the game now. There will probably be another aircraft carrier and cruiser force out there coming from Home Fleet. Between the two carriers they will have a good chance to saturate the airspace and neutralize the advantage the Germans have enjoyed with their light carrier. With Kaiser Wilhelm hit, and now returning to Brest, it then comes down to the battleships.”

“Could they win this duel, even without our help?” asked Volsky.

“They would have a good shot at that, sir. Their plan would have to be to get at least two more good battleships in front of Lütjens. Then, between those ships and HMS Invincible, they would have enough to force an engagement, but it would be quite a battle. Their Bismarck took on two British battleships and prevailed this very month in our history. It sunk the Hood, and probably would have made it safely to a French port if not for a very lucky hit by a British Swordfish that damaged the rudder and prevented the ship from maneuvering. That isn’t likely to happen again, and don’t forget that the Hindenburg is out there with Bismarck this time, a much more formidable ship.”

“We can ease their pain, Fedorov. Yes?”

“At the moment our longest range missiles are the ten remaining P-900s we got from Kazan. They can range out 660 kilometers, but the Germans are another 200 kilometers beyond that at the moment. We will have to get closer, and get a better fix on their exact position.”

“We could use the KA-40,” said Volsky.

“Possibly, sir, but it can only carry a single anti-ship missile, or torpedo. That isn’t much punch.”

“And the helicopters on the Argos Fire?”

“Again, they are not designed to carry the heavier anti-ship missiles. Miss Fairchild spoke briefly, and she indicated they mostly use shorter range rocket pods. Those helos were excellent in providing us fire support in Syria, but they won’t do much harm to a ship like the Hindenburg.”

“Then we will have to close that range.”

“Agreed, sir. That said, our speed advantage is very slim. We would have to run all out at our full battle speed of 32 knots to close at all. Hindenburg and Bismarck can both make 30 knots. To run that fast for an extended period could stress that damaged hull.”

“Yes,” said Volsky. “The ship still bears the scars of all our past battles. They did more work on that hull patch while we were at Alexandria, but I understand your concern. What do you think the Germans will do now, Fedorov—particularly given this odd message ordering them to find and engage the Rodney?”

“Very odd, sir. I still cannot see how they decided to make that their top priority. It is very alarming.”

“Can they know about this business with the keys?”

“I doubt that. But Admiral Tovey sent several messages concerning his plan to effect a rendezvous at sea with the Rodney. The Germans may have intercepted those, and that alone could be reason for them to target that ship. Then again, we do not really know the extent of their intelligence. Lütjens stayed with Kaiser Wilhelm for a time to see that ship safely off to Brest. I think they will now turn and get into a position to intercept Rodney.”

“Where might that occur?”

“I suppose that depends on Rodney. That ship’s course will determine the location.”

“So the Germans may not continue running west,” said Volsky. “They’ve already lost time tending to their wounded ship, and now these orders complicate their operation considerably. Perhaps we can get into good missile range sooner than we expected. Until then, it will be up to the Royal Navy. Where do they have ships capable of challenging the Germans?”

“I was briefed by Tovey after that conference,” said Fedorov. “Admiral Holland has more than Lütjens to worry about now. There is another strong German force in the Norwegian Sea, and so the four British battleships available have been sent to guard the breakout channels on either side of Iceland.”

“If they attempt the passage west of Iceland in the Denmark Strait, we should know soon enough,” said Volsky. “Remember, we have that Oko Panel team there. They must be getting a bit lonely by now.”

“I had almost forgotten about them sir. Yes, that radar set gives us good coverage. But if the Germans move east of Iceland we could be looking at a different battle.”

“Oh? How so?”

“It would place them much closer to the Hindenburg group, and if the two German battlegroups join, then we have real trouble.”

“I can see that we shall have to coordinate closely with Holland and Tovey,” said Volsky. “Let us put our heads together and come up with a plan.”

“Sir,” said Fedorov. “How fast is Kazan?”

“It can match our speed underwater, but even so, it would have difficulty catching up to the Hindenburg now. As for missiles, Gromyko tells me he has only a few P-800s left. We’ve pilfered all his P-900s, and remember he fired a strong salvo in the Med, and another to interdict the Turkish Straits. What missiles he has left can only range out 300 kilometers, so he must get even closer than we do, if a missile attack is contemplated. No Mister Fedorov, it’s a foot race now, a great naval chase for the new history books we are writing here. Only I wonder how they will account for our presence, two ships the world knew nothing whatsoever about. That will take some explaining, yes?”

It was then that the first odd incident occurred, though it would not be the last. A man came up the ladder to enter the main bridge through the hatch, his face ashen, in spite of the exertion of the climb, and his eyes held fear when Fedorov and Volsky turned to see what he needed.

“Sir…” the man was clearly frazzled about something.

“Yes, what is it Mister Kornalev? A problem in the mess hall? Are the Mishman fighting over mashed potatoes again, or are we running out of beef?” Kornalev was a cook’s assistant from the galley.

“No sir… It’s Lenkov, sir. In the galley…”

“What is wrong with Lenkov? If he is sick, have him go to see Doctor Zolkin. If he is angry again, then that is a matter for the Galley Chief to settle. It should not be brought here, to the command bridge.”

“But sir… I don’t know how to describe this. He’s dead, Admiral. Lenkov is dead, stuck in the galley!”

Volsky gave Fedorov a quick glance. “He is dead?”

“Please sir. You must come and see! No one will go near him, so I ran here as fast as I could.”

“Very well. Calm down now. I will leave the bridge to Mister Fedorov here and have a look. Have you informed Doctor Zolkin?”

“No sir, I came straight here.”

The Admiral reached for the overhead intercom and flipped the send switch on. “Doctor Zolkin, Please meet me in the galley at once. This is the Admiral.” He set the microphone back in its housing and gave Kornalev a smile. “Lead on, Mister Kornalev. Let us see what the problem is.”

“Admiral off the bridge,” said Rodenko as the two men left through the main hatch. He gave Fedorov a look, wondering what he thought of the matter.

“Any problems of late with Lenkov?” Fedorov asked.

“No sir, at least nothing that has come to my attention.”

“Has Orlov been minding his temper?”

“He’s been in good spirits, sir. No, I don’t think this has anything to do with Orlov.”

“Anything else? I’ve been away from the ship for some time. How is the crew?”

“Holding up well, sir. But now that you ask, there have been a few minor incidents.”

“Of what sort?”

“As the Admiral said, there was a brawl in the galley last week when the potatoes ran out before the last crew shift came in.”

“They were fighting over mashed potatoes?”

“So it seems. But I have noticed that things have been… well wound up a little too tight of late.”

“Explain.”

“It’s nothing I can put my finger on sir, but you can feel it. The men have been at sea for many months now, and through a good deal of combat, not to mention the fact that here we are still in the 1940s.”

“I understand,” said Fedorov.

“It’s odd, sir. Troyak had a strange report yesterday. He says one of the mishman came in and asked if he could be issued a rifle.”

“A rifle? What did he want that for?”

“He wouldn’t say. Troyak refused the request, of course. We can’t have men holed up in their quarters with weapons. But that did little to calm the man down.”

“What was wrong with him?”

“Nothing he could really explain to us, Captain. But if I had to describe it, I’d say the man was afraid. Yes, he seemed frightened of something, and it was a natural reflex to want a weapon at hand to protect himself. I had him go see Zolkin.”

Fedorov nodded. “Very well. Keep me informed, Rodenko.”

That was a bit disturbing. Here they were, on the most powerful fighting ship in the world, and a junior mishman felt compelled to ask Troyak for a rifle! Perhaps Rodenko is correct, he thought. Maybe it is the long duration at sea, and combat fatigue setting in. I must be more attentive to the crew.

A few minutes later the intercom sounded and the voice of Admiral Volsky was on the line. Fedorov could hear something in his tone that was upsetting. Even Rodenko noticed it.

“Mister Fedorov, please come to the galley at once.” It seemed simple enough, but it was going to be something much more than any of them expected. And it was only just beginning.