Chapter 7

'The World, the final border. These are the cruises of the Submarine Retvizan. It's 6 month mission, to search for new existances, to heroically go where no-one has gone before.'

"No," Chino told Ensign Igor Golovko, "it's not quite the same."

"I've changed a few words around," he explained.

"Yes, I see that. Maybe it's, like, when you translate English into Russian into English again a little of the... er... style of the thing gets lost."

"Yes, I understand," he replied happily.

"But it's really cool, though," Chino added, "I think we should put it up in the mess, just as it is."

The poster had been expertly 'aged, ' by the Retvizan's resident artist. Golovko, the wordsmith, was tasked with putting the well-known foreward to the American Science Fiction icon, 'Star Trek, ' into an appropriate lampoon of the submarine's voyage. Commander Gorshin had encouraged such light hearted gestures in the hope it may take the crew's mind off the fact they may never see Russia again for a long, long time, if ever.

Chino was becoming something of a sensation in the eyes of the crew. Thanks in part to some highly coloured accounts of her participation in the rescue of the women from the hands of the Farnow, her reputation had started to develop before she returned on board. Now, however, she'd taken upon herself the role of the crew's cheerleader. Homesickness was setting in for many of them and they were grateful to Chino for her light hearted pranks.

Her nickname was easy to pronounce for the Russians. Co-incidently, it was a Russian slang word for 'Chinese.' She became 'Chinovitchka, ' 'little Chinese woman, ' to many of the crew, although her light brown hair, her pixie Italo-Nordic features, would seem to belie that description.

She was not short of prospective suitors and she played the flirting game to such perfection most of the crew were in love with her. Igor Golovko had an enormous crush on her and he had the inside running because of his excellent English. He was also smart and attentative, boyishly charming and had a weird sense of humour.

But to Chino he was just a little too nice. There were a few others who might meet her high expectations if it wasn't for some irritating habit or other. She watched as her friends Amy and Mich, her fellow detainees at the hands of the Farnow, begin to play the field of admirers, but she held back.

Amy and Shteyn quickly became an item while Michiko spent a lot of time in the company of one the Japanese submariners, Seaman Yanagawa Heichiro. It was easy to see the attraction, Chino thought, Shteyn was one of the 'nice ones, and all three friends thought he was 'hot.' Heichiro was wounded, lonely and confused and invoked Mich's keen maternal instinct. He also linked Mich back to a Japan she never knew.

"Nice job!" Roscoe said as he viewed their work, "I kinda like what it says. They tell me it's from one of them TV shows?" They nodded, "hmm, I gotta see it some time. By the way, Chino, y'seen John?"

"No!" she replied with a little more emphasis than was strictly necessary.

"Hey," the big American smiled, "ain't nothin' wrong with him. He's a good man in a fight, that's fer sure."

"He's a killer!"

"Chino, uh, d'you know what this sub was built for?"

"Sure, to launch nuclear missiles."

"Against America, honey. Well, I kinda call that killin'. I don't know what you call it."

"It was meant to be a threat. It's not the same."

"Sure and what is a threat if you're ain't prepared to carry it out? The guys in this boat were all trained for one thing in mind, to destroy America and everyone in it. You criticise John, but at least he looks his enemy in the eye, he matches his wits and skill against someone who's out to kill him. I guess the skip does the same thing, but he turns millions into ash. Y'wanna get your principles into shape, girl. Y'ask Igor over there whether he'd refuse to push the button if he was ordered? I bet he'd follow orders, as he was trained to do, as every one of this crew was trained to do. Otherwise, this boat was a mighty waste of money."

"Johnny didn't have to kill..."

"No, maybe not. But he had to make a call. I was beside him and I tell you, it wasn't easy for him. I offered to shoot them m'self, 'cause he was mighty conflicted. But at the end of the day, he did it and do you know why?"

Chino shook her head slowly.

"Because a Commmander shouldn't be givin' orders he's not prepared to carry out himself. He didn't want any of his boys to have to go through what he's going through. I kinda respect that, and that is the reason I'd be willing to serve alongside him again. That's why I'd put my life in his hands. He cares for his men, and makes the hard decisions for the greater good. You can't ask for more than that."

"Humanity?"

"You still have him to thank fer your life. What the Hell kinda humanity do you want?"

"He served in Chechnya, he..."

"He what, little lady? I don't know this 'Chechnya' but I'm bettin' he didn't start the fight there. I'm also bettin' he didn't volunteer and, if he did, it's because he felt an obligation towards his government, his people, and his service. They didn't pay him to stand around in fancy uniforms and look good. Maybe you don't like what the Russian government was doing there? Well you pick it up with them. John didn't have the luxury of debatin' the issue with them."

"He could've refused to fight."

"Sure, and let someone else do it for him? I kinda think he'd view that as cowardly. Y'think he'd like to stand and watch as his boys load up to go off to war? Y'think he'd like it for them to do his fightin' for him why he's nice and safe, knowin' they need his skills and training, but, hey, 'I don't believe it's right'? Maybe it ain't right but that's not his call, it's his government's."

Meanwhile, Commander Gorshin and Lieutenants Fedyunsky and Pavlov carefully scanned the screen mounted on the forward bulkhead of 3C. It displayed an image transferred from the Retvizan's main periscope of a vessel, stopped and drifting.

"Hmm," thought Fedyunsky, "it looks American. I'd say it was a fleet minesweeper built during '44, '45. But there're many conversions and an array atop the wheel house that looks more like the early 60s."

"I'll tell you what I think it is," Gorshin interrupted, "it's an old spy ship, an intelligence vessel, that used to follow our fleet around on exercises. In those days they didn't have satellites, or aircraft with that kind of capability. We knew they were doing it, of course, and we did the same thing to them. We'd record all the sigint, elint, whatever we could. Ah, it kinda takes me back a bit that does."

"I see no-one on board," Pavlov said, "is it abandoned?"

"Perhaps, or laying low. We won't know for sure without taking a look. I suggest you take along an intelligence specialist, Pavlov. Perhaps that young Golovko? I'd also take along Roscoe in case there're still some crew on board."

"Sir? Imagine you're and American Navy intelligence officer of the sixties and this bunch of Russian marines climb on board your ship. With them is an American. What would you do?"

"Well," Fedyunsky laughed, "if I was Roscoe I'd do some fast talking."

"The risk may be worth it," replied Gorshin, "they ought to have tapes and records that might shed some light. We might be able to examine their maps?"

"Would they be any different than ours?" Fedyunsky asked.

"Men... uh... there're a few things that still greatly disturb me about this world."

"A few, sir?" Pavlov smiled.

"For one thing. With all the potential time travellers available during the entire history of mankind, we've only encountered some from 2006 and 1943, why? Second, our sea floor measurements record a rise in the sea level of around 200 metres, no? Yet, it is not the same sea floor. We cannot place any of our maps over anywhere we've so far recorded, yet geological time is measured over hundreds of thousands of years. I know of nothing that could've had such a catastrophic change in the geography of the earth over a period of 350 years. Even an asteroid strike would only have a localised effect. Climatic changes accepted, of course."

"So, sir, your theory?" Pavlov asked.

"It's not the same earth, it can't be! I suggest we haven't so much as shot forward from our own time, but slipped sideways into another version of the earth, an alternative earth. On this earth, evolution has been different. Perhaps in this earth's Precambrian Era the magma solidified into a different shape? You call that island back there Mauna Loa, but have you checked the current facts we have about that volcano?" Both men all shook their heads. "Mauna Loa was the largest volcano in the world with a height above sea level of over 4000 metres. Its area encompassed over 5000 square kilometres. Does any of that ring a bell?"

"No, sir."

"Assuming our figures for the rise in sea level is correct, Mauna Loa should be approximately 3,800 metres. That island should be at least 2000 square kilometres. Now, is our island of Havai anywhere near that?"

"Nothing like that, sir. I'd say that volcano was not much more than 500 metres above sea lavel at it's highest point," Pavlov agreed.

"More than a scientific miscalculation, I'd say. It could have erupted, perhaps? That may certainly reduce its height, but by over 3000 metres? That's one Hell of an explosion. I know of nothing that blows away 3000 metres of mountain."

"I really can't say," Pavlov shrugged, "I'm no seismologist, nor volcanologist. However, it doesn't look like there's been any eruption there for a good many years."

"Shall we see what this spy ship tells us, then? We should be able to pinpoint it's location at the time it disappeared from its world. In the light of what I've been saying, can we also perhaps ask some questions of our fellow castaways? Perhaps, they, too, came from some alternative universe? Maybe different from ours even?"

"I think it needs checking out, sir," agreed Fedyunsky.

"Meanwhile, Pavlov, take your team, fully armed. We don't know what to expect over there so be prepared for everything. Fedyunsky, take her to the surface and stop ship. Come to as close as you can, I don't want our people too long in the inflatables. If there're people on board that ship they could open on our men with small arms."

"Perhaps, sir, we ought to have some people on top of the hull covering us?"

"Good idea, Pavlov, I'll leave the arrangements to you," Gorshin nodded.

Pavlov stationed a team on top of the giant hull of the Retvizan. He gathered six men for the away team, He, Roscoe, Shapalaev, Shteyn, Golovko and a marine called Valentin Antonovich Gavriel. They used an eight man inflatable and towed another, with special waterproof containers with which to retrieve documents. Fedyunsky brought them to within 200 metres of the strange ship, so close that those on the top of the fin could look down on the decks of the vessel.

Pavlov wasted no time in getting the men over the hull and into the boats. His men were exposed, and he wanted to get up the side of the old minesweeper and on board as quickly as he could.

Several rope ladders were dangling down the sides. It looked like all, or some, of the crew had evacuated quickly into small boats. The wooden gangway was still swung inboard and lashed for sailing. Pavlov could see the vessels boats still were fixed to their davits or lashed to the deck.

Pavlov's men scaled the ladders quickly then deployed on deck. All found cover except Roscoe, who insisted that he was American and he was damned if he was going to hide from the US Navy. Cautiously, the Russians followed him as he opened a deckhouse hatch and went inside.

"Roscoe!" he called, "US Navy, anyone home?"

His voice reverberated around the cabin, but he received no answering hail. They appeared to be in a mess room. There was a wooden long table with a dozen metal chairs bolted to the deck. Behind was a servery hatch to a small galley, the steel stove was polished to perfection marred only by slight blueing above the mirror surface of the oven door. It was navy spit and polish, alright, and Roscoe commented that the sea boys scrubbed everything including their own asses. On the wall were three photos of the vessel in its former role as a minesweeper and one, a portrait, evidently of a former captain. Also on the wall was a banner with 'USS Samuel B Ross' and a pennant number, 'AGS 23, ' the official designation for a surveying ship.

Behind the galley were a few cabins, obviously for the senior officers. Again they were all orderly, blankets neatly folded on the beds, and everything put away in drawers. Pavlov decided to secure the vessel first before commencing a thorough search and moved on down the passage.

The deckhouse opened out into the waist of the vessel. A single funnel emerged from the deck surrounded by ventilators for the boiler room below. The aft deck house was a new construction and contained more accomodation. Probably, the minesweeping equipment was once installed there and maybe a deck gun.

Pavlov climbed up the ladder to the deck above and entered the wheel house. The engine telegraphs were set in the stop position and the rudder centred. In front of the wheel the compass was jammed in 'south.' Above that dangled the hand set for the telephone, as if someone was called away urgently while talking to the engine room.