Grand Alliance (Kirov Series) (2 page)

“You
ought to know about it,” said Kinlan, still nurturing the assumption that this
man and his band of Russian Marines were out here to guide in those warheads.

“I
assure you, I knew nothing, because I was not there, General. I was not in that
timeframe at all. I was here all along. Understand? I have been here for the
last six months, my ship and crew as well, and all of us trapped here in this
time—in this war.”

“You’re
telling me you had some kind of an accident aboard ship?”

“It had
something to do with our reactors.” Fedorov did not want to get into all the
details of Rod-25, Tunguska, the fragmented time that event had caused, the
hidden places in the world where fissures in time had been created to allow men
and objects to make impossible journeys through time. It was enough to try and
give this man some footing here, some kind of solid ground to stand on, as
shiftless and windblown as it all might seem now.

“General,”
he said through Popski. “When this storm finally abates, your systems will
settle down, but you will never establish satellite links again—ever. In fact,
you will never again receive another message or word from the world you knew.
The only communications you will ever pick up will be things of this world, of
this time, and the year is 1941—January of 1941 to be more precise. That is why
the stars and moon seem to conspire against you. Believe me, I was a navigator by
trade before being promoted to my present position. When this first happened to
us, I used my skills as a navigator to determine the stars and moon were not
what they should be, just as your men did.”

Popski
could not help but cast a furtive glance at the night sky above as the evening
settled over the scene and the first stars were again visible in the slowly
clearing airs.

“Then
you’re trying to tell me this man O’Connor is the real thing? This fellow
Wavell that was bending my ear ten minutes ago is indeed General Archibald
Wavell?”

“Correct.
Impossible, but true. It took us a very long time to determine what had
happened to us, and relate it to the strange effects of a nuclear detonation.
Apparently the same thing has just happened to you. We determined that these
effects have a radius—like the EMP effect can influence an area beyond the core
blast zone. Well, even if this detonation missed its target, you must have
remained inside the zone.”

Kinlan
stood with that for some time, removing his sand goggles to get a better look
at the man, noting the unfailing sincerity in his tone and expression. He
allowed himself a question, even though it would admit to grudging acceptance
of this whole wild scenario.

“Then
how do we get back?”

Fedorov
gave him a look of real sympathy and understanding, then spoke quietly. “That
may no longer be possible.”

“What?
You mean we’re marooned here, for good?”

“For
good or for ill, but you are here, that much you will inevitably come to
realize and believe, just as we did. And being here is a matter of grave
concern, not simply for your own fate, or the lives of the men you command, but
for the fate of this world. Do you understand what I am saying now, general?
You are no ordinary man here—not in this time and place. This is the Western
Desert of Egypt in 1941. You know what is happening here now, and why men with
names like Wavell and O’Connor are before you. And you will soon hear of
another familiar name—Rommel. He is here as well, and undoubtedly up to the
same old tricks that confounded the British for years in this campaign. But you
can change all that, General Kinlan.”

“Change
it?” Now Kinlan remembered his own impulsive vow to Major Sims, that he would
kick Rommel’s ass half way to Berlin if he found him.

“Yes,”
said Fedorov. “That is the real dilemma now. We faced it, talked endlessly
about it, debated it, and then we realized we could not remain here in the
midst of this terrible war without choosing sides. And General, there was some
contention among our ranks over that choice. There were those who were very
embittered over the hostility and enmity that has grown between our nations in
our day. It was a struggle, but my Admiral held firm and eventually opted for
reason in the face of all this insanity.”

“Admiral?”

“Leonid
Volsky. You have heard of this man?”

“Volsky.
He’s the commander of the Red Banner Northern Fleet, or at least he was before
your ship went missing.”

“Correct,
and he was to transfer to the Pacific Fleet just as the incident at the
Diaoyutai/Senkaku Islands ignited hostilities there. That little squabble was
going to become something that would eventually devour the entire world. The missile
attack you experienced was undoubtedly a part of all that, and your presence
here may be the only safe ground you could have found for your men and
vehicles. You know damn well that there would have been a second strike, and a
third if your air defense prevented that.”

“Is
that what you were here for, Battle Damage Assessment?”

“No
General, you must understand that I was never there—never in that time. I was
here all along, with my Marines and helicopter, and we were out here doing
exactly as we have told you, looking for General O’Connor. You see, when we
found ourselves here, in this time, we realized there was no way we could stand
apart from this conflict. We had to take sides, one way or another, and knowing
that Russia and Britain were allies once eventually guided our thinking to the
right path. So it is as I have told you. My ship is out there right now, waiting
for my return.
Kirov
is cruising with Cunningham’s Royal Navy fleet, and
ready to do battle in support of the British here—and it is a grave hour
indeed. Believe me, General, it’s all in shreds and patches now, but you will
piece it together soon enough, just as we did, and the quilt of your
understanding could save your country now—here—in 1941.”

Chapter 2

Shreds
and patches… That was as good a way to put things as he
could fathom. Here he was, a king of shreds and patches, just as Hamlet put it.
Yet he wanted to shout at this man as Hamlet’s mother had… ‘No more! Your words
are like daggers, please no more, sweet Hamlet. Angels in heaven protect me
with your wings!...’ A ragtag king he was, lost, completely out of his world,
but a king indeed. That was what this man was saying to him now, that he was
here and that meant something. He had a responsibility here, and it would begin
with the same choice this Russian Captain had made, to be or not to be, here
and now, in this war, taking up arms against a sea of trouble and by opposing…

“You’re
asking me to fight here… now?”

“Where
else?” Fedorov gave him a thin smile. “We fought. We were misguided by a
headstrong Captain at first—the very man I replaced. His was a hard line, and
he had no love of the West, or the British. But my view was that if we could
somehow prevent the enmity between our nations from ever taking root after this
war, then we might prevent the one that comes after, the searing fire that you
have only just escaped. Understand, General? You are here. This war is here as
well. Your countrymen fight even as we speak. We have joined them. That
decision should be much easier for you.”

Popski
was following the essence of this, but could not see why this Fedorov would
have to try and convince a British serving officer as to which side he was on
in this damn war, and he said as much.

“I’ll
admit I had my doubts about you when you gave us the rough treatment up front,”
he said to Kinlan, “but forgive and forget, General.” This man here seems to
think he needs to persuade you to take up sides here, as silly as that may
seem.”

Kinlan
gave Popski a look, then realized that if any of this were true, then this man
was not of his day and time. He was a man of this era, the very same man he had
stared at in the data files on his library pad. He
was
‘Popski,’ head of
the PPA, a fringe element of the Long Range Desert Group, the Number One
Demolition Group, to be more accurate. He wanted to dismiss all this with one
boisterous ‘bloody hell,’ but that would not do. What he needed now was more
than the evidence he had before him. He needed information on what was
happening here in the desert.

“So
tell him to look at the uniform I’m wearing,” he said to Popski. “That should
answer his question.”

“Clear
enough, General,” Popski returned. “Not that I can say as I’ve ever seen kit
like that before. So I’m thinking you’re a special unit, seeing as though
General O’Connor doesn’t even seem to know anything about you. But you had old
Wavell on the blower a while back. What did he say?”

“Popski,”
said Fedorov urgently, picking up some of what he had been saying. “Don’t
converse. Please stay with me and translate. This is urgent now.”

“Alright,
alright. Don’t get all hot and bothered. The man is obviously a British serving
officer, and so there should be no question as to whether or not he will do any
fighting, and which side he’s on.”

“He
said that? He’s willing to engage here? Ask him again. I need to be certain of
this now.”

“Very
well… General, this man wants to know if you’re prepared to engage here—take up
the good fight, eh? I’m not sure what your orders are, but Wavell must have
given you an earful.”

“That
he did,” said Kinlan. “Tell him Wavell was just a tad upset, but he’s grateful
we’ve found O’Connor. Yet he doesn’t seem to know much about my unit here…
secret and all, even from the up and ups.” He gave Popski a wink.

“That
will be the case at the outset,” said Fedorov through Popski. “You are a great
unknown. There will be questions, a good many questions, and it would be wise
if you allowed me to assist you in answering them. You see, only a very few men
alive here know the real truth concerning our presence here, and the operations
we are presently undertaking.”

“You were
ordered here by the Russian government?”

“No. We
are acting independently. Our present intention is to try and reverse what is
looking to be a very desperate situation in the Mediterranean at the moment.”

“Well,
we know how it all turns out,” said Kinlan, still inwardly shaking his head to
hear himself admit the insanity of the thought that this man was telling him
the truth, and this was, indeed, 1941.

“We
know how it once turned out,” said Fedorov quickly, in halting English, wanting
to make certain Popski got it right. “This time things are different,” he said
again to Popski in Russian. “Tell him that the Germans have taken Gibraltar.”

“What’s
that you say? Gibraltar?”

“Yes,”
said Fedorov. “And if you know this history at all, then you know that was
never supposed to happen.”

“Know
what history?” said Popski.

“Just
translate what I said! We’ll have time to talk later.”

Kinlan
could see that Popski was in the dark. He did not really know who this Russian
was—at least who he claimed to be. So he decided to explore this ground
briefly.

“These
men don’t seem to know the whole story, Captain,” he said. “Have you told them
the same tale you’ve spun out for me?”

“Only
one man here knows the whole truth—two actually.”

“Wavell?”

“No
sir, General Wavell has not yet been briefed.”

“Is
this man here in the know?” He nodded to Popski.

“No,”
said Fedorov directly, his eyes carrying a note of caution that he did not wish
to try and put into words.

Popski
knew what they were saying, but if this was something that Wavell was not even
privy too, then he was in good company, and he did not let any of this bother
him. Yes, this was some secret unit assembling out here. Perhaps that’s why the
LRDG has units down at Siwa, and why Jock Campbell is there now.

“Look
General, this is the situation as far as I understand it. I was in Alexandria
yesterday, and with Wavell himself, along with Admiral John Tovey, who has been
fully briefed in this matter.”

“Tovey?”
Kinlan knew the name, and knew Tovey had been the man in charge of Home Fleet
during these years. “Who else knows?” he asked.

“That
isn’t important now,” said Fedorov. “But what is important is that your unit
here is going to eventually be discovered. You had orders to withdraw to Mersa
Matruh? Thankfully that was still in British hands when we left yesterday,
though it may not be theirs for very much longer. Now it’s time I gave you a
good briefing. Gibraltar was attacked last September, and the Germans have
closed the entire Western Mediterranean. All traffic to Egypt now has to go by
way of Capetown, and that’s the least of it. To take Gibraltar the Germans
persuaded Spain to join the Axis, and the Vichy French have followed suit. That
means all of North Africa, from Casablanca all the way to Tobruk, is now Axis
controlled territory. The British still have Tobruk itself, or they did
yesterday, but Rommel is here early, and he’s doing what he did so well
before—raising hell. We’ve saved O’Connor, which may be a real plus, but for
now the British are overmatched. The Germans have already sent the 15th Panzer
Division to reinforce Rommel’s 5th Light Division and, after recent operations,
the British have nothing in the way of mobile armor left.”