“It’s crazy,” said Zolkin. “One moment we are out there to conduct those live fire exercises for Naval Day, and then we suddenly find ourselves under attack by a hidden submarine and World War Three starts! Now look where we are, five years ahead and still stuck in that war. How could it be? How does a ship like this suddenly leap into the future? And here we find the whole war is turned on its head. Instead of fighting the Americans, they are all our friends. Instead of locking arms with the Chinese, Karpov is up there sinking their aircraft carriers. It’s madness! The men have accepted it, god bless their souls, but I could never quite swallow it. Movement in time? Even if I could accept that, why would we still be fighting this war now, in 2026?”
Volsky smiled.
“You are not the only one so confused and bewildered by what had happened to us.”
“True, Leonid, but I can’t for the life of me reason why the Americans would suddenly decide we are their friends.”
Volsky did not know how to respond, because he knew his friend had no idea Kirov had actually sailed with those grand old battleships of WWII either. So he tried to come up with some reason.
“We are five years ahead, and not any older. That at least is one good thing. But Dimitri, we don’t know what happened in those five years. The history books might write it somewhere in this world, but we have none of them aboard this ship. Perhaps Fedorov could explain it to you, as he has a nose for history. All I can imagine is that there must have been an armistice, and a peace made between Russia and the United States. It seems Russia isn’t even fighting in this war any longer—just us. We are the only ships still in the conflict, and now they are struggling to deal with China. That is all I can say about it.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” said Zolkin. “But for five years? Look how it almost came to a terrible end in 2021.”
“It seems this world avoided that.”
“But still they fight. The missiles still fly. The fog of war still envelops us every time that alarm sounds.”
“Yes,” said Volsky solemnly, “the fog….”
That was another deep memory he struggled to see and hold in his mind. The fog—but not from the missiles firing. No, this was something else, a deep, oppressive fog that enveloped them on every side. It was so thick that none of the helicopters could fly high enough to find clear skies. This is what he dreamed at times. Endless fog…. Men missing…. Brave Fedorov….
“Well Dimitri, we won’t sort all of this out here. All I can say is how grateful I am that you are here, my old friend. You may be troubled with dreams as well, and odd memories like those I describe to you here. Who knows, maybe a man lives many lives, and has many chances. But at least one thing holds true—our friendship.”
“Yes, Leonid. I was so glad when you returned on that submarine. Nobody really tells me much of what is happening. Oh, I get hints and clues from what the men whisper among themselves. I knew you were out there somewhere, fighting, defending Severomorsk. Then this crazy ship came here, a thing I have struggled to understand and accept. You know, trying to explain it to the men was the only way I kept my sanity. What happened, Doctor? Where are we? How is it possible? These are the things they all lined up to ask me. So I had to put aside my own bewilderment, remain calm, be strong for them, and help them make sense of it. Here we are, I told them. It’s the same world, just a little farther on.”
Volsky nodded, but he knew it wasn’t the same world. No, this was the future Kirov and Kazan shaped long ago, in WWII, and not the world his friend had lived in. That world was gone, and he knew that some version of his very own self had perished with it. This was another world, and another life, but his head was now a jumble of too many odd memories, snippets of one world or another, one life or another. It seemed to him that he had been caught up in the exploits of this ship and crew for ages past, and that there would be no end to the story. It would just go on, and on, and on.
He smiled inwardly. That is life, he thought. That’s how it really is. The only place things get tidied up and all resolved to a fitting end is in the story books and movies. But that isn’t the way it is in real life. There we just move from one time to another, one life to another. We reach back in our mind and see ourselves in one chapter or another of our life, and the older we get, the more there is to sort through, the love, the losses, the friends and foes, successes and failures, and all the choices we made to bring us to the place where we now stand, remembering it all. Yet I am a man grown too old, or so it seems. I have more things in this head than I can hold at any one time, which is why I think so much of my story must remain asleep. If it all woke up and came out at once, it could overwhelm me. So let it sleep, Leonid, he told himself.
Yes, forget the battleships, and forget the fog. Just be here now where you are—on this proud ship, and with this fine crew. Just be here with your dear old friend, and be glad for it.
“Yes,” he said to Zolkin. “Just a little farther on. That was a good way to say it.”
“Yet the men could only wonder what had happened to their wives, their children, all their friends. No one can use ship’s Internet stations to find out. Wartime security, says Karpov, and I suppose he is correct. Who knows what happened, but I told them they were all still out there, still waiting for them. Some were not so sure…. Think of the sacrifice these men have made, Leonid. We take them out on one sea or another, ask them to fight, to stand up, remain loyal. And amazingly, they do!”
“The finest crew in the fleet,” said Volsky.
“Yes? Well, how many aircraft carriers does Karpov need to sink? Why don’t we just go home. The Americans seem to have things well in hand.”
“Do they? Perhaps, but we have made a big difference in this war. It is a sad thing that we must fight it, and yes, we might wish the world would finally learn the folly of war. Yet here we are. The missiles come for us, and we fight back. That said, I do understand what you are saying. The men must long for their loved ones, and wonder where they are. One day that will all be resolved… One day…”
But Volsky knew that day might never really come, and that if they ever did finally put in to a friendly port, it would be one more hard shock for the crew. They don’t know the whole of it, he thought. They think this is the same war that started in 2021, and that we have pulled some kind of Rip Van Winkle affair to sleep and then wake here five years on. If we ever do take them home, what would they find?
Then he came to the hard fact he had discovered, too curious one day, just as Fedorov had learned the difficult truth. This world was not the one Fedorov left in 2021. So he thought he would use his Admiral’s privilege to gain access to the Internet. The first thing he did was see if he could learn the history of this ship, but it wasn’t there. The Soviet Navy of this era had never built it.
That was a most unsettling discovery, and it prompted him to want to search for his own name to see what he could learn. His hands hovered over the keyboard, and then he thought twice about it, and just shut the session down.
Better not to know, he thought. Be here now. What I don’t know cannot hurt me. If we keep the men in the dark, then I will sit there with them—all in the same boat, quite literally. I already know far too much….
As he thought on that, he wondered if the crew also had these odd dreams at times, and if their sleeping past would awaken in their heads as they took their rest in the bunks. He would help them as best he could, he thought. And for now, while Kirov still cut the waves with her proud bow, he would sail with them, wherever they went.