Winter Storm by John Schettler Page B

yet again, and with no help from me this
time, he thought. It was like a whisper of fog, just the same way we shifted
away from Saint Helena, and then found ourselves in 1942 in the Timor Sea.
Sometimes we go with a bang, and other times with a whimper… but where have we
gone?
    “Chief
Dobrynin,” he said, realizing he had important business here now. “Can the
reactors function properly if you don’t run these maintenance checks?”
    “Well,
yes I suppose so. It’s just standard procedure to run these inspections, but I
haven’t found anything that raised my concerns for some time.”
    “Good.
Discontinue the inspections. You used Rod-25 just now, correct?”
    Again,
Dobrynin was surprised to hear this. “So Fedorov told you about that too?”
    “Fedorov?
Yes, tell me more about that now Chief.”
    “Not
much to say sir. He just seemed interested in the reactor maintenance, and
wanted to see me run the procedure, but I was so busy this last week that I
forgot to message him.”
    “ I
see… You have more than one spare control rod aboard?”
    “Yes
sir, we’ve got number 26 and 27 stored.”
    “And it
was number 25 that you used today?”
    “Yes
sir, we took delivery on that before we left Severomorsk.”
    “Remove
it from the cycle and mount one of the other rods. Can you do that safely while
we’re at sea?”
    “I can,
but I’ll need some time, and a good crew of engineers.”
    “Do it,
and also cancel all rod inspection maintenance until I discuss this matter with
you again. If that’s a problem, come to me, But otherwise, replace and store
Rod-25 and take no further action.”
    “Aye
sir, I’ll see to it immediately.”
     
    *
     
    Later that day, Nikolin had some answers that surprised everyone
on the Bridge. He had been listening closely to stations to the south, fighting
that odd flux that seemed to plague the airways. “It is still 1941,” he said, “but
I’m getting a lot of stuff on the airwaves about the fighting. The Germans are
much closer to Moscow. I heard the latest from the Kremlin a moment ago. It’s
mid-September now!”
    “Mid-September?”
    “Yes
sir. That’s what I’m hearing from Radio Moscow. Something about an Operation
Typhoon. I’ll try to pick up BBC and verify.”
    Karpov
looked at Fedorov now. “Then you were correct, Mister Fedorov. We’ve done the
moving. Does your sun and moon data bear this conclusion out?”
    “The
moon won’t be up for several hours,” said Fedorov, “and that will be the real
data I need.”
    “Very
well, walk with me please.” He gestured to the weather deck, and it was clear
that he wanted to step outside for a private chat with Fedorov. “Let’s take one
last look at the sea.”
    Once
out on the deck, Fedorov noted how the Captain made a point to close the hatch,
effectively sealing the two of them off. He had his field glasses, raising them
in the manner he so often did, scanning the sea and sky around them while
Fedorov waited.
    “Dobrynin
says the reactors are stable,” he said quietly. “He also says you were down
there a few days ago asking him a lot of questions…”
    “Sir?
You mean in engineering? Yes, I was there a few days ago. Just curious as I was
passing through that deck.”
    “Just
curious,” said Karpov. “Yes, you wanted to know the next time the Chief planned
to dip his wick in the rod inspection cycle. You were down there to check on
our little friend, weren’t you. You were down to check on Rod-25.”
    Fedorov
had the sinking feeling that Karpov’s guard was up again, and something warned
him of danger here. Then the Captain slowly lowered his field glasses, turning
to him with a smile.
    “Yes,
Fedorov, Rod-25 was your business that day, wasn’t it. You know, that was a
nice little trick you pulled with that code list. It was very clever, and had I
not found this in your quarters, buried in a drawer, I might have just believed
you.”
    Karpov
reached into his jacket pocket and handed Fedorov