that it was all he seemed to find—that and old news documentaries.
Fedorov’s eye fell on the dark King of Spades, wielding a sword of doom, and arising from the very image of its own self, one king above, the other below. The image brought a strange feeling, a doppelganger, he thought grimly, just like Karpov.
“Listen,” said Fedorov in a half whisper. “I need to ask you some things. I’ve been off duty a long time. Do you know our position and heading?”
“We’re circling,” said Nikolin. “Right where Slava was supposed to be waiting with those targeting barges. The Admiral wants to put a submersible over the side in the morning to have a look at the sea floor.”
“Then we are in the Norwegian Sea?”
“Of course, where else?”
“Alright… Have you heard anything from Severomorsk?”
“Nothing. I can’t get through to any of our normal military bands, but my equipment was very weak until just a few hours ago, Then I started picking up this stuff.” He gestured to the small shortwave on the desk, illuminated by the cone of light from a metal hooded desk lamp.
Fedorov inclined his head, listening. “What have you found out?”
“It’s very strange, Fedorov. There’s nothing but these old news stories. That made the Admiral think there was no war, because every station would be alive with that news if something really big happened. They were just talking about the last war, bombing France, and things about the Russian front. Just old news from WWII.”
“Did you get any details?”
“Something about German ships in France. It didn’t make any sense to me. What would they be doing in France?”
Fedorov looked excited, nodding his head. “Did you hear any names? Hindenburg? Bismarck?”
“That’s the one—Hindenburg. The BBC said the RAF was bombing French ports, and they claimed to hit that ship.”
“No other news? Didn’t the BBC carry live news feeds?”
“That’s what’s so scary. They only broadcast these old documentaries from WWII. There’s been nothing else on the band for the last five hours. I’ve heard the same thing out of Reykjavik on the AM band. And I’ve heard shortwave from the U.S. and England. I’m still listening here, because Karpov and the Admiral will want my report first thing in the morning.”
“Were these broadcasts dated?”
“Just the old dates from the documentaries.”
“What did they say?”
“Well, that’s what is so odd. It’s as if they were doing some commemorative replay of the old news reels, because they’re just reporting the news from this very day. Seems odd, especially since this is preempting all other local and international news. It’s as if nothing else is happening but this damn documentary.”
“The date, Nikolin. Can you remember it?”
“Sure—this broadcast here was BBC, and they time stamped it 28 July, 1941. That was two hours ago—the 11:00 newscast out of London. It’s past midnight now.”
That was the date Fedorov expected, yet hearing it sent another chill down his spine. It was Paradox Hour, and now it was behind him. He had finally come through to the other side of midnight, and yet he was still alive, his memories all intact, but strangely here on this phantom ship. It had arrived from the same world he left so long ago, and he was the only soul here that knew anything of all that had happened to them. He suddenly felt very lonely, but he put that emotion aside and asked Nikolin his next question.
“Have you tried using our coded ship-to-ship transmitting band?”
“Just once, right after this thing started. I tried to raise Slava, but nothing came back. And all my satellite links are dead too. The Captain thinks this was an attack, Fedorov, but it’s gone eerily quiet since that fog lifted.”
“Good. I Think I’ll go out on deck and have a look at the stars. If I have to plot manually tomorrow I’ll get a good fix on things tonight. What else is happening on the bridge? Any idea what the Admiral is planning?”
“Karpov wanted the KA-40s up all night, but they could find nothing so they pulled them back in. Tasarov heard nothing on sonar, and you know how good he is. I was with him for evening mess and he said he’s never heard the sea this quiet before. It’s very strange, Fedorov. But what happened to you?”
“It was nothing. I think I had a reaction to some medicine the Doctor gave me for that dizziness. I’m fine now.” Fedorov hesitated briefly, then decided to risk one more question. “Look Nikolin,” he began cautiously. “Do