great cloud that had appeared with angry red fire to the northeast. The wind had sheared off its top, and it was only now dissipating. As he looked at it, that ghostly feeling returned, and he knew he had seen something like this before, a clawing memory that gave him a chill.
An hour later, Miss Fairchild came aboard with Captain MacRae and Mack Morgan. They wanted to confer with Tovey, firm up his intentions, and determine what to do with the other ships that had come on the scene, all strange interlopers on this wild day at sea.
“Seven more ships?” asked Tovey. “And all from your time?”
“Apparently,” said Elena.
“Well how did they get here?”
“We aren’t certain. Perhaps that mushroom cloud on the horizon had something to do with it.”
“Just what exactly happened out there?” Tovey frowned. “It’s given me the willies since I first set eyes on it.”
“Gordon?”
MacRae nodded, then explained. “Tha’ was not a natural event, sir.” His Scottish brogue seeming right in place. “In fact, it was a weapon of war. We weren’t sure if the Russians had them or not, but it seems they do. We believe it was either used by the Russian battlecruiser, or that submarine.”
“Yes,” said Tovey. “Admiral Volsky discussed these weapons with me at one point, but he was rather vague about it. What kind of a weapon would wrench the sky and sea like that?”
“An atomic weapon, sir. Your government knows about the bomb—that’s what we call it in our day. In fact, they most likely have a working program to develop one now. In our day, the history we know, no one had a working prototype here until 1945.”
“Then that is where this damn war is taking us?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Elena. “And the next one we fight will be quite unpleasant. Knowledge of that weaponry becomes widespread after this war. In our day, at least ten nations possessed them, the newest member of the club being the Islamic Republic of Iran.”
“Iran? How would they manage something like that? This is most startling.”
“In a word—oil,” said Elena. “Your main interest in Iran today is the business of British Petroleum. In fact, that was also the business of Fairchild Incorporated, my company. Oil becomes the witches brew of the modern world, Admiral, and a point of contention and crisis for decades to come. The wells British Petroleum and other concerns sink into the sands of Iran, Iraq, and Arabia, all gush to life in the next few years, but in our day, some eighty years from now, those very same wells will be running dry. The modern world runs almost exclusively on that oil, and speaking of that, I’m told one of the seven dwarves that have arrived here today is an oiler. They’ll have fuel for us there. Another is a repair ship and fleet tender. They could be very handy in helping out with your battle damage.”
“I see…” Tovey was quiet for a moment, thinking. “These other ships. I think they had best come along with us. It won’t do to let them just sail about on their own.”
“I quite agree,” said Elena. “It was my understanding that you were planning to refuel your battleships in the Azores. Perhaps it would be wise if we lead this little flotilla there. I have spoken with the flotilla leader aboard Diligence—the fleet Auxiliary and repair ship I just mentioned. We have just found out that in our time they were en route to Mersa Matruh.”
“North Africa?”
“Yes, they were dispatched to move Brigadier Kinlan’s troops back to the continent, so you see this is a rather strange twist.”
“Indeed,” said Tovey, taking that in and wondering at the mystery behind it. “Might their appearance here be somehow mixed up with Kinlan’s chaps?”
“It does seem rather odd,” said Elena. “In any case, there is another matter concerning the Azores we need to discuss.”
She took a deep breath, then tried to explain the appearance, and subsequent disappearance of the American officer, the man named Wellings who later turned out to be something quite more than he seemed.
“Astounding,” said Tovey. “Just what in bloody hell is happening here? Are you all going to just pop in from the future and sign on with the Royal Navy? Ships and men have been shuffling in and out of the bar, and nobody seems to know the cause. Well I’ll say one thing. I had a number of chats with that young Russian Captain, Fedorov. A good man that one.