Read Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series) Online
Authors: John Schettler
Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series)
Kirov Saga:
Hinge Of Fate
Altered States
Volume III
By
John Schettler
A publication of:
The Writing Shop Press
Kirov Saga:
Hinge Of Fate
, Copyright©2014, John A.
Schettler
Discover other titles by John Schettler:
The Kirov Saga:
(Military Fiction)
Kirov
-
Kirov Series - Volume I
Cauldron Of Fire -
Kirov Series - Volume II
Pacific Storm -
Kirov Series - Volume III
Men Of War -
Kirov Series - Volume IV
Nine Days Falling -
Kirov Series - Volume V
Fallen Angels -
Kirov Series - Volume VI
Devil’s Garden -
Kirov Series - Volume VII
Armageddon
– Kirov Series – Volume VIII
Altered States
– Kirov Series – Volume IX
Darkest Hour
– Kirov Series – Volume X
Hinge Of Fate
– Kirov Series – Volume XI
Three Kings
– Kirov Series – Volume XII
Award Winning Science Fiction:
Meridian
-
Meridian Series - Volume I
Nexus Point
- Meridian Series - Volume II
Touchstone
- Meridian Series - Volume III
Anvil of Fate
- Meridian Series - Volume IV
Golem 7
- Meridian Series - Volume V
Classic Science Fiction:
Wild Zone
- Dharman Series - Volume I
Mother Heart
- Dharman Series - Volume II
Historical Fiction:
Taklamakan
- Silk Road Series - Volume I
Khan Tengri
- Silk Road Series - Volume II
Dream Reaper
– Mythic Horror Mystery
Mailto: [email protected]
http://www.writingshop.ws ~ http://www.dharma6.com
Kirov Saga:
Hinge of Fate
Altered States
Volume III
By
John Schettler
“Fate is like a strange, unpopular
restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked
for and don't always like.”
―
Lemony Snicket
About:
Altered States:
Volume III ~ Hinge of Fate
As
Alan Turing pursues the baffling
discovery of the strange cache of information code named
Geronimo
,
Admiral Volsky sails to meet with the British on the Faeroes, bearing an offer
of formal alliance between Soviet Russia and Great Britain. There Tovey learns
the startling truth behind the mysterious ship that has haunted him all his
life.
Sergeant
Troyak’s mission aboard airship
Narva
faces danger and mystery on the
Stony Tunguska, even while elements of two other airship fleets converge on the
inn at Ilanskiy—the hinge of fate.
Meanwhile,
Hitler hopes to secure another vital ally so that he can breathe life into
Admiral Raeder’s long advocated Mediterranean strategy. It will begin with
Operation
Felix
the assault on Gibraltar. As Britain steels itself for possible
invasion, the Royal Navy must now rally to the defense of the embattled garrison
at Gibraltar, England’s Rock in the Med, another hinge of fate that could turn
the entire course of the war should it fall. Opposing them are the three elite
regiments of the German Army, and a resurgent Kriegsmarine led by a fearsome new
gladiator, the
Hindenburg
.
Action, mystery and intrigue pulse
through this compelling continuation of the amazing Kirov Saga!
Kirov Saga:
Hinge
of Fate
Altered States – Vol III
By
John Schettler
Part III –
Tunguska
Part IV –
Best Laid Plans
Part VII –
Dakar
Part VIII –
One Fine Morning
Part IX –
Fimbulwinter
“It is the past
that tells us who we are.
Without it, we lose our
identity.”
—Steven Hawking
Part
I
Revelations
“Nothing in this world is hidden
forever. The gold which has lain for centuries unsuspected in the ground,
reveals itself one day on the surface. Sand turns traitor, and betrays the
footstep that has passed over it. Fire itself leaves the confession, in ashes,
of the substance consumed in it… Look where we will, the inevitable law of
revelation is one of the laws of nature: the lasting preservation of a secret
is a miracle which the world has never yet seen.”
―
Wilkie Collins
Chapter 1
The
Faroe Islands was a
lonesome outpost on the wild and windy frontier that marked the boundary
between the Norwegian Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. A place that aspired to be
nothing more than a quiet backwater settlement of fishermen and sheep herders,
it had become a vital watch on those contested waters, a border outpost in a
sea of war that would soon prove to be a hinge of fate.
Presently under the sovereignty
of the Kingdom of Denmark, the small island group had been chosen as the
meeting place between two nations that now stood in the darkening shadows of
war. The tall brown cliffs of the islands were crowned with broad green
pastures, where sheep grazed in unknowing bliss. At places, soaring spires of
rock rose like stony sails along the ragged coast, and pristine falls of water
plummeted to the sea in pearly white columns. Small hamlets crowded the coastline
in sheltered bays, the bright red and blue rooftops of the buildings adding a
splash of color to the pastoral scene.
Some said the hardy folk that
lived there had first come from the Viking outposts in the seas around Ireland,
while others claimed that the settlers first came from Norway and Scandinavia.
They were called the
Eyja-Skeggjar
, the Island-Beards of old, doughty,
dour faced men with hands as hard as stone. Following the invasion of Denmark
by Nazi Germany, the Faroe Islands were occupied by British troops in Operation
Valentine, on April 12, 1940.
Two destroyers,
Halvant
and
Hesperus
, formed the vanguard of British occupation, politely
arranging a meeting with the Danish Prefect, Carl Aage Hilbert. The next day
the Royal Navy cruiser HMS
Suffolk
arrived at Tórshavn, the seat of
authority on the island archipelago, bringing Frederick Mason, the appointed
British Consul, along with 250 Royal Marines. A passing protest was duly filed,
but then the locals welcomed the British, realizing that their fate could be a
good deal worse if German Falschirmjaegers were landing that day in place of
the British troops.
Churchill made the announcement
to the House of Commons just as the operation was getting underway: “We are
also at this moment occupying the Faroe Islands, which belong to Denmark and
which are a strategic point of high importance, and whose people showed every
disposition to receive us with warm regard. We shall shield the Faroe Islands
from all the severities of war and establish ourselves there conveniently by
sea and air until the moment comes when they will be handed back to Denmark,
liberated from the foul thralldom into which they have been plunged by German aggression.”
The British quickly set up a
naval base at Skálafjørður, a craggy outpost just south of the main Faroe
Island near Torshavn, where they established their headquarters in the old
fortress of Havnar Skansin. Naval guns were emplaced there for defense. The
garrison was beefed up when the Royal Marines were replaced by 500 Lovat Scouts
from Scotland, landing from the transport ship
Ulster Prince.
Just west
of the main island, an airfield was constructed on Vagar Island, and heavily
fortified. While the base was under construction, a long lake adjacent to the
site served as a kind of water aerodrome, where seaplanes could land to deliver
supplies and personnel. The base would allow the British to keep watchful eyes
in the air over the vital passage to the Atlantic, a windy frontier outpost
that was ever vigilant against the rising threat of the Kriegsmarine.
It was here, at the fledgling
R.A.F. Vagar, that the meeting between Admiral Tovey and the Russians would be
held. Tovey had been wise enough to say nothing to Dudley Pound of the
startling revelations discovered by Alan Turing in the dusty archives of
Bletchley Park. Instead he focused on the necessity of establishing a high
level friendship and understanding of cooperation between the Russians and
England, and he made his appeal directly to the Admiralty, saying he was in
receipt of a message pointedly requesting his presence, and his alone, at the
meeting to be arranged on the Faroe Islands.
Admiral Pound fluttered that
British Admirals were not negotiators and diplomats, but men of war, and the
prospect seemed in doubt due to his opposition, until a quiet knock on the door
delivered a message from Churchill himself. Sergie Kirov had communicated
directly with the Prime Minister, and asked, in no uncertain terms, that Tovey
and Volsky make the first official contact concerning the matter. It was said
that Admiral Volsky was now carrying a most important message, and Tovey was
specifically named as the recipient.
Kirov
anchored off the
small islet of Gasholmur, seeing the proud silhouette of HMS
Invincible
and three destroyers waiting just south of the sheer rocky outcrop known as
Tinholmur, rising over 200 meters above the sea. Admiral Volsky, Fedorov, and
Nikolin took the Admiral’s launch up a long, narrow fiord that led them to a
muddy landing where a small concrete quay protected a tiny harbor. They stepped
ashore, greeted by an honor guard of Royal Marines to escort them to the
meeting site at a simple home near the airfield. It was a warm, comfortable
place, with chairs arranged around a hearth where the glow of a fire cast its
welcoming heat and light on all present.
Tovey was there with his
translator and a few other officers, and they all stood to offer a cordial
greeting as the Russians came in. “I have the very great pleasure to meet with
you again,” said Tovey, shaking Volsky’s hand.
After smiles, handshakes, and an
offering of hot tea, the men seated themselves, whereupon Tovey turned and
asked every other man in his party to leave the room. “I shall be happy to rely
on the translation provided by your mister Nikolin,” he said, “as I have no
doubt that he will faithfully communicate the essence of what we must now
discuss with one another.”
Volsky smiled, appreciating the
candor and gesture of good will on Tovey’s part, but also perceiving something
more in the dismissal of the other men. Better this way, he thought. This
British Admiral wants to get down to business, and so shall we.
“Well Admiral Volsky, the last
time we met under rather trying circumstances, and though we were not quick to
accept your offer of support at that time, the actions you took during the
engagement in the Denmark Strait did not go unnoticed, or unappreciated by the
British government.”
“We were pleased to offer any
assistance we could,” said Volsky as Nikolin translated. “I only wish we could
have done more, but we remained uncertain at that time as to how much
intervention would be wise, given the fact that I was flying the colors of a
neutral state. While the weapons we employed could certainly not have been
overlooked by anyone present, particularly the unfortunate German sailors we
were forced to fire upon, we believe our ship was never properly identified by
the German navy during that engagement.”
“All the better if that is the
case.” Tovey rubbed his hands. “As to those weapons you speak of, they proved
most startling. We have never seen such advanced application of rocketry, both
in the role of an anti-ship weapon as well as air defense. It was truly astounding.”
“These weapons are, in fact, the
primary armament of my ship, Admiral. The deck guns you noted in our first
meeting being nothing more than secondary weapons systems, as you surmised. Yet
we find them very useful at times, and they are every bit as accurate as the
rocketry you observed.”
“May I ask how you achieve this?”
“I’m afraid that would be a very
long discussion. Let us simply say that we have developed a means of directing
this fire by radar. You are aware of this technology?”
“Of course, though it is a
relatively new development. Your systems must be very powerful to achieve this
level of accuracy. If I am not being presumptuous, our government would be very
much interested in learning more about this achievement. Is it common to all
naval ships now deployed by Soviet Russia?”
“It is not. Our ship is unique in
that respect. We were a secret project, a prototype.” Volsky adopted the cover
Sergie Kirov had given him on the matter, thinking it a convenient way to avoid
an explanation that might never be understood or accepted by Tovey. He was
still having enough trouble understanding and accepting it himself.
“I see,” said Tovey. “Then this
technology is in trials. Well, I should think you would be rather pleased with
the results, and we would be eager to discuss these weapons further with you,
if you would ever be so inclined. Great Britain is prepared to offer much in
exchange for the friendship I hope you have brought here today.”
“And we would be pleased to offer
much in return,” said Volsky. “That is exactly what I am now empowered to offer
you, Admiral Tovey. I have met with Sergei Kirov in person, and I am also aware
that back channel negotiations are now underway between his government and your
own. But I am pleased and honored to be the first to formally confirm that
Soviet Russia will now propose a general alliance and eternal friendship with
Great Britain.”
Tovey beamed at that, as it was
exactly what he hoped to secure here. “Admiral, I am grateful to be the man
that receives this news, and I have no doubt that my government will eagerly
embrace this offer. England stands alone in the West, yet Soviet Russia stands
alone in the East. Between us lies a darkness spinning out a deadly gyre of war
that now threatens to devour us both. It is my firm belief, and that of my
government, that only by joining arms together can either of us have any hope
to survive.”
“Agreed, Admiral Tovey. And I
will also say that together we can, and must, prevail.”
Tovey proposed a brief toast to
the alliance, which would be formalized within days in London where Soviet
negotiators were waiting on the outcome of this initial meeting. As the brandy
warmed all present, Tovey looked at the Russians, the clear light of another
matter now glowing in his eyes.
“Admiral Volsky,” he said
quietly. “When I first met with you I had the distinct feeling that I had done
so once before. Of course I dismissed it as the empty headedness of an old man,
but I must confess that I remain somewhat haunted by this. I must now share
with you a discovery that was made by our intelligence services. Frankly, I did
not know what to make of it when it was first revealed to me. I found it quite
shocking. If you will pardon the mystery for a moment, perhaps the best way I
might proceed here would be to hand you this envelope.”
Tovey reached over to a side
table where he had placed his briefcase, opening it to produce a plain Manila
envelope. He stood, with some sense of gravity apparent in his features, and
slowly handed it to Admiral Volsky.
Tovey had received the envelope
from Alan Turing, as he had requested, and it contained five startling
photographs of the Russian battlecruiser, all with those mysterious labels
affixed to the back, all misdated one or two years hence. He sat down watching
closely to gauge Volsky’s initial reaction as he opened the envelope. Just as
he expected, the Russian Admiral’s eyes widened with great surprise. Then a
look of bewilderment passed over his heavy features, and he looked immediately
to his attending Captain, the man named Fedorov, who was equally astonished as
he took the photographs, slowly flipping from one to the next. The Russians
spoke to one another, an urgent energy in their voices. Nikolin did not know
whether he should translate, but Volsky quickly told him to ask where the
photographs had come from. The answer he received was equally perplexing.
“You may immediately come to
believe that those photographs were taken in the course of our earlier meeting,
but I assure you, they were not. I must also be frank in saying that the
authenticity of these images has been questioned, though they would have to be
the work of a real expert if they are fraudulent. Is there any light you might
possibly shed on that question?” There, Tovey had tossed the hot potato to the
Russians and watched them pass it back and forth, with much discussion between
Fedorov and Volsky that went untranslated until the Admiral apologized.
“My Admiral asks you to forgive
him for a very brief moment, sir,” said Nikolin. “He needs to discuss something
with Mister Fedorov.”
“Well Fedorov?” said Volsky.
“What do you make of all this? We both know what those photos show. This one is
that attack we suffered in the Tyrrhenian Sea, the very same one that sent me
plummeting from that ladder and into a lengthy stay with Doctor Zolkin. I am
certain of it. And this one here is clearly the moment of our departure from
the Straits of Gibraltar, under the flag of truce I negotiated with this very
same man! How could this be? That was in 1942!”