“Nothing sir. All quiet.”
“Another clue,” said Volkov. “Not that it helps us much. The first radio news broadcast was in 1920. So if we moved forward, we hear nothing because no one is there. If we went backwards, however, then we might have moved to a time before radio broadcast was common. If Vanavara is gone, then we know we went beyond 1932. Navigator, what’s the next closest settlement?”
“Well, if we head south from here we’ll hit the Angara River, and there should be settlements there—possibly Bratsk. Then of course Irkutsk is farther south, and Krasnoyarsk to the southwest.”
“Those would be old city sites, sir,” said the Captain, “well established.”
“Yes…” said Volkov. “Kansk is very near Krasnoyarsk. Plot me a course there. How far is it?”
The navigator traced the route, walking his calipers quickly across the chart. “About 585 Kilometers, sir.”
“Good,” said Volkov. “Take me there, 100 kph. We’ll have breakfast in Kansk, gentlemen, and we’ll sort this business out there once and for all.”
There were a hundred little towns on the navigator’s charts, but most, if not all, were missing as they flew southwest. As with Vanavara, they saw no sign of distress in the landscape—just no settlements, which was strong evidence that none had been founded. How deep had they gone, Volkov wondered when he had returned to his stateroom. How far back? I didn’t think Time wanted us here. Why in God’s name would we slip into the past? Time has to work very hard to send me to the past. There are so many complications, and the risk of Paradox is very high. Moving me forward would be relatively effortless. They say that flowing water seeks the easiest course—this is what I reasoned before when this question first came to mind. So I set my will on going forward, only to find the war in 2021 had come to a desolate end.
Now this!
Where in hell have we ended up this time? How did we get here? There was no storm at all… yet we did overfly the site of the Tunguska Event just a little while ago. Tyrenkov told me that was how all this got started, so I got curious. Could that be a region of temporal instability? Did my sightseeing tour just float blithely through some fissure in time there? If that is so, could I get back that same way if we are marooned in the past here now as I suspect?
It was all so confusing.
Even as he thought that, his wolves started growling, their eyes red, hackles raised. They had been eating their dinner in the iron cage, quite content, but now they were suddenly agitated. There came a shudder, a quavering in the air, and then came a terrible sound. The airship shuddered heavily, as if struck by a great concussion wave. The wolves were howling now, their toothy snouts raised, calling, calling….
Volkov strode quickly to the door of his stateroom, throwing it open and stepping out into the interior corridor. He was amazed to see the entire ship seemed to be glowing, as if some terrible light was on the other side of the exterior canvass shell of the airship, and for a moment, he thought there might be a fire.
That sent a jab of regret through his mind. I should have brought Siberia along on this mission, he thought, just in case, but I left that ship back at the Northern Shamrock when I set off into the wilds it was named for. What has happened? He was on his way to the stairway down, and the ladder to the main bridge gondola again. When he got there, the bridge crew were working the elevator wheel and stabilizing the ship.
“What’s happened?” he shouted, hearing the distant rumble of thunder, explosions. Then they grew quiet, fading, fading away, the light subsiding, the neon green glow suddenly gone, until all was as it was.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” said Captain Gorev. He was on the intercom. “All hands, report and damage to the bridge immediately. Chief of Engineers—check all stations. This is the Captain.”
They would check, but no damage would be found, and no reports would come. All was as it was before that first shudder trembled in the air of his stateroom. Now he had the distinct feeling that something had reached for him with deadly intent. Something had sought his life. It was a deep, ominous realization, and though there was nothing he could see as any evidence around him, he was certain that something had just tried, with all its might, to crush this ship and end his life—but it had failed.
Now he smiled, knowing what it was.
Chapter 32
Paradox, he thought. I believed I needed to be in the future, and that Time would certainly send me there. It was so much easier, but no, we shifted to the distant past. I’m sure of it now. Yet the past is so powerful, so laden with possibility. From here I can effect catastrophic change. That’s what I did before, finding myself in 1908 to eventually rule the Orenburg Federation… yes, I remember everything now. The dreams were all real. I know everything at long last, and particularly how that conniving bastard Tyrenkov worked so diligently with Karpov against se during WWII.
My head had been filling up with memories for months now, and I think Tyrenkov was beginning to suspect I was learning things he wanted to keep sleeping. But now I know it all, the mind of every Volkov on various meridians of time all joining hands in one head. It is wonderful, and terrible at the same time.
We have moved, and surely to the past. That is always dangerous. Tyrenkov spoke of this many times. He said that a man could never go to a place where he already existed, and I spent hours when I first considered this, wondering where I could go, and where that prohibition would hold me at bay… And yet…. Didn’t that rodent Vladimir Karpov do exactly that? He was there in the 1940’s when Kirov came that second time, and look what happened! Suddenly there were two Karpov’s.
Yes… and he was aboard this very ship when it happened— Tunguska. That’s how he managed to defeat my other self in the past. He went back, even while he already existed on that damn battlecruiser as another self, and the two of them survived—Doppelgangers. The Siberian then took over all the duties the original Karpov wished to shirk off on him, but the senior partner was always the first Karpov, the man who first came back…. The bastards double teamed me, and they undoubtedly poisoned Sergei Kirov’s ear to get him to send his armies against me during that war.
Of course they did. They knew my Orenburg Federation and alliance with Hitler could have changed the entire outcome of the war. It would most certainly have done so… until Karpov appeared. Once that brigand seized the reins of power in Siberia, then he and his lacky Siberian self both double teamed me.
Once Volkov got over the anger and resentment in remembering all of that, he composed himself, eyes narrowed. He was watching his wolves, seeing how they both settled down again, their eyes on him, watching him as closely as he was watching them. Then a sudden thought came to him. Two wolves, Greyback and Ghost…. Why not two of me? Yes…. Two Volkovs! What if I pulled the same rabbit out of my hat, just like Karpov did? What if we are in the past now, a past where I already exist, yet I remain alive and well here on this ship. Would my other self also survive? Would I get a Doppelganger, just like Karpov did? Interesting….
But what would I do here? Yes, I could use my foreknowledge of the history, and this airship, to wield tremendous power. I could certainly set myself up as a nice little emperor in my own rite. Why, men would flock to my banner like they did to Napoleon when he returned to Southern France. But how dreary it would be, living out all those long years in the early 20th Century, struggling through the Revolution, building my network, consolidating power, watching that monster Adolf Hitler rise to cast his shadow over Europe again, fighting that long terrible war…