Chapter 7

Freezing rain swept down from the tops on the little camp at Heichiro. Siguerd Gunnerson swept the little cabin with his eyes and gazed into the tired, fear-filled expressions of his men. Already he was certain his ship, the Schturmvogel, will not be returning.

Heichiro was little more than two cabins and a storage hut. There was a goat enclosure but the goats had long since fled. It had been built as a base camp for expeditions into the mountains, not as a fort. It was in a bad defensive position, easily overlooked from high ground, and had no palisades nor even a fence. It had not even been envisaged by its builders that it could be used to winter over.

Gunnerson had few supplies, his 25 men were worn out and he'd four wounded to care for. Additionally, the men's terms of service ended with the first snows and all of them wanted to go back to their homes. The Landsvaar wasn't a professional force, just a citizen army, an obligation that was fixed under the Law. Although the most senior officers were appointed by the Althing, the majority of the commanders were leading citizens of the individual communities or voted on by the men.

Gunnerson felt he was too old for this sort of work. Sure, he was a proud man and resented the etranger Firebird usurping him as General of the Landsvaar. He feared the man's ambition, that wasn't the Nordvolk way, and circumstances had confirmed his prejudice. Firebird had deserted them, he knew that with growing certainty. Etrangeren were going to be the downfall of the Nordvolk. He'd argued that in front of the Althing and now it was coming to pass.

Earlier that morning, he'd correctly interpreted the rapid gunfire he'd heard from down the fjord. It ended with a loud concussion and he'd hoped beyond hope that the battle had ended in their favour. But no ships came up the fjord in support and that surely meant only one thing, they were cut off.

Towards noon, his lookout stationed on the roof of the cabin reported smoke. Presently he informed him it was the metal batarna of the etrangeren and its deck was crowded with soldiers. He knew it was time to negotiate, there was nothing else to do.

With a heavy heart he ordered his men to go down to meet the etrangeren waving whatever white cloth they could find. A sadness overcame him. He saw the Nordvolk squeezed between the unbridled ambition of General Firebird and the overwhelming technology of these Russian etrangeren.

He was old, too old for this game and too set in his ways to preside over the destruction of his people. Negotiate? What was there to negotiate, he wondered? He watched the strangers deploy in front of the camp, carrying the guns he was sent to confiscate for the Nordvolk's war against the Svartsmanni. Shaking his head one last time, he put his long, flintlock horse pistol to his temple and blew his brains out.

Pavlov watched the long line of Bedowan descend the ridge in single file. Already the mountain sported a white mantle and snow flurries could be seen dusting the top of the ridge. It was late in the year for them to be this far North and it was clear they'd be wintering over at Eden.

Valentin led the way, followed by Karyn, Dogan and Ashok. They all wore quilted, embroidered, woollen jackets of various designs in blues and reds. Around their heads were wrapped thick cotton or fur that completely covered their faces. Apart from Valentin, they generally carried the long flintlock rifle Pavlov had seen the Landsvaar with.

A few carried the ornate crossbow Valentin was sure was the original native weapon of the Bedowan. It was crank drawn with a laminate, recurve, prod of bone and wood. The prod was held to the stock by a bridle of pleated whipcord but the most remarkable thing was the tricker. (A crossbow's trigger is called a 'tricker.') The tricker was hardwood and bone laminate intricately carved to shape. In it's native state, the Bedowan's crossbow hadn't one piece of metal in it.

But to Pavlov, he realised he suddenly had a force of 85 troops. The Al Tafliq of the Bedowan understood the concept of revenge and the notion of blood ties. The sack and burning of Eden demanded recompense, that was the Law, and Valentin had called in the clan's obligation to support a blood affiliated 'tribe.'

At last Roscoe, Fedyunsky, Shapalaev, Shteyn and the rest of the marines from Eden followed the Bedowan down to Heichiro. Pavlov hadn't seen them for over a year, but the party had to wait until they where safely at Eden, where temporary shelters were being erected.

It was well into the afternoon before Retvizan, with Texas under tow, finally arrived at Edenfjord. Boomer and Gorshin anchored together in the channel, the subs causing navigation problems for other traffic.

That evening, shuttles of boats began to ferry supplies, including prefabricated dwellings, to the shore, while Chino and the others stood on the hull of the Retvizan staring at the ruins.

Pavlov was busy organising a defence perimeter in case parties of Landsvaar had been left behind. He had a dozen prisoners on his hands, those taken at Heichiro. These men were cowered and co-operative and he set them to work as labourers, clearing some of the mess their comrades had made.

Later, Diana sailed on patrol, the Rapira still fixed to her foredeck, to do a thorough check of the sea approaches. Although Gorshin was reasonably sure Firebird and his men wouldn't return, he decided to exercise caution.

They were less than an hour out of port, however, when Diana's primitive radar established an aeriel contact. Fedyunsky hurried to the bridge while the radar specialist tried to identify it.

"Speed, approximately 300kmh," he reported, "wingspan, between 20 and 30 metres. It's bearing... ah... coming right at us, sir, 12 kilometres range."

"Man the guns," Fedyunski ordered, "general quarters!"

Besides the Rapira on the foredeck, Diana now had two heavy machine guns, 12.7mm Kords, on HiLo mountings fore and aft, brought by the Retvizan.

"Sir, it's descending," said Radar, "about 2000 metres, now."

"Sir," said another specialist, "I'm getting a radar signal... long wave, 200 centimetre range, low power, about 2 kilowatts..."

"Old and slow," Fedyunski considered, "and a radar with less power than a cigarette lighter. And your guess would be?"

"World War Two vintage, sir."

"Yes, but whose?"

"Both the Americans and the Japanese were using similar bands, sir. The British had centimetric airborne radar from late 1943 and the Germans from mid 1944. I've been researching it, sir," the young man said, proudly.

"Very good," Fedyunsky smiled, "but you still can't tell one from the other?"

"Not with this equipment, sir."

"Then get out your binoculars, genius, and look at it."

"Sir... ah... ah... there. High wing, like a Consolidated PBY, but with thinner chord, I think. Um, I see four engines... flying boat... twin fins, something like a Dornier 24, perhaps, but with one more engine..."

"Still descending, sir," cried Radar, "hostile posture, I believe."

"Hostile? Perhaps it's doing no more than reconnaissance? Do you see a targetting signal?"

"Um, well, no, sir. Not many radar guided weapons in those days, sir."

"Exactly! We start shooting at it and we could lose a potential ally."

"And if we don't, sir, it could drop a bomb on us fair and square?"

"Sir, ah, I believe it's Japanese. The profile matches a 'Mavis, ' a Kawanishi H6K flying boat," the specialist reported.

"A Mavis? Hmm, "give me some information on this 'Mavis, ' expert?"

"Sir... ah... I have the information, sir. Probably a K-4 model, 1000 kilos of bombs or two torpedoes. Defensive armament four 7.7mm machine guns and a 20mm cannon... according to Janes 'All the World's Aircraft' 1945 edition."

"Range?"

"6,800 kilometres, sir."

"So where d'you suppose it came from? Where was the nearest Japanese flying boat base?"

"That will be the Marshalls, sir, but they used to refuel from submarines for long range missions."

"Ah, then perhaps this is a reconnaissance mission. Perhaps to Hawaii but Hawaii was not there?"

"Possible, sir. The Japanese did send a number of flying boat missions to Hawaii."

"And they will have bombs, just in case of targets of opportunity?"

"Possible, sir."

"Then spread a Japanese flag on the foredeck. Let's confuse them?"

The bridge crew watched in apprehension as the flying boat approached low from 2 points off the starboard bow of the Diana. It was dark green, its high wing and four engines now obvious.

"Sir, did you know that it used American Pratt and Whitney engines? The design was sold to Mitsubishi before the Pacific War."

"Fascinating," said Fedyunsky, laconically.

The air vibrated with the thunder of her four engines as the flying boat flew down the length of the Diana's port side. They could plainly see the Japanese crew, staring at them as they passed. The specialist carefully noted the code on the tail, 801-40, before flicking through his recognition manuals.

"Sir, ah..." the man started to say as they watched the plane circle, "this is weird."

"What?"

"That plane, sir. It's from the 801st Kokutai based, not in the Marshalls, but Okinawa. According to this, it was lost on a raid on Rabaul in early 1942."

"Perhaps it was lost in time, then. Lookout, what's it doing now?"

"Still circling."

"But, sir," the man insisted, "it was never equipped with radar. The Japanese didn't have airborne radar till a year later."

"Hmm, y'sure?" The man nodded. "Curiouser!"

"Sir," the lookout shouted, "it's signalling... I see a morse lamp. It's in English... ah... 'identify?'"

"When did the old Soviet Union declare war on Japan?"

"July, 1945, shortly before the atom bomb."

"Hmm, let's take a chnace. Tell them we're the Russian ship 'Diana.' See what they say."

"Sir." The lookout began sending on Diana's morse lamp. Presently, the circling aircraft delivered a reply. "Where is your base?"

"Give them the co-ordinates," Fedyunsky ordered.

"Sir, is that wise?"

"Your manual says that this 'Mavis' carries it's bombs and torpedoes externally?"

"Yes, sir, that's right."

"Then I see no bombs, Seaman. I've a feeling this Jap wants to talk. It is strange behaviour if all he wants is to bomb us. You imagine the Americans first wanted to chat when they found the Jap carriers at the Battle of Midway?"

"No, sir," the Seaman smiled.

"Sir, surely they were at war?" suggested another of the bridge crew.

"True, and our experience with the Japs is that they will attack anything not flying the Japanese ensign. In any case, after 1941 there was very little neutral shipping left."

"Sweden, sir?"

"I don't think there were many Swedish warships in the South Pacific, Seaman," he grinned. "Raise the ensign. Lets see what they make of it."

Back on the Retvizan, anchored at Eden, Gorshin listened to the radio reports with Radetsky. Boomer Zeigler, too, was also monitoring the signal from the extensive, state of the art, suite on the Texas.

"Suggest you ready those SAMs of yours," he advised.

"Done. I have a multiple launcher ready to fire and Pavlov has several high angle machine guns on shore."

"Because we'd be pretty hard to miss..."

"I know, Boomer. Fedyunsky reported the Jap appeared to be unarmed."

"I know he did, Commander, but I ain't playing poker with my boat. If that Jap coughs, I'm taking him out."

"Sir," Radetsky said as the American Commander signed off, "have we a chain of command problem? If you don't mind me saying, the pyramid has no point."

"I understand what you're saying. I have no control over the Texas as it's United States territory. Our governments never anticipated this situation. I guess we must rely on our mutual experience and good sense. And, I have to say, on this occasion, the good sense of that World War Two Japanese flying boat pilot. I want you to send a signal to him, in English for I believe they understand. Give him a heading to Eden. Advise him to circle and land down fjord. I don't want him overflying the submarines. Be very accurate with your instructions, Lieutenant. I don't want any mistakes."

Commander Gorshin reflected on the operational orders the American and Russian Naval commands had devised for this assignment. It had been compiled amid all the doubt and scepticism surrounding the whole enterprise. At Polyarnii, Admiral Ustinov had staked his reputation on their success in finding the Texas. Boomer Zeigler had been assigned just in case what Ustinov was claiming was true and, in any case, the USN was running out of ideas.

Neither party envisioned a stay in this alternative dimension. Ideally, the Texas would be found and brought home together with its crew; the stranded Russians would be recovered and returned and the Academy of Sciences would have new discoveries to get excited about.

The rescue would be accomplished, Boomer would sail home in the Texas, and Retvizan pick up Fedyunsky and the rest. There was not seen to be a need for joint operations; chains of commands, nor even a joint decision making process. Gorshin and Zeigler were senior captains in their respective services, however, and, up to now, there'd been no problem with command responsibilities.

But what happens now if they can't agree on strategy and tactics? They had no means of appeal to a higher level. In any case there was no joint US/Russian protocol for such an appeal. Did Zeigler have to follow the orders of Ustinov? Of course not. Nor did the US president have any say over Gorshin's decisions.

Gorshin watched the Japanese 'Mavis' approach with apprehension. If the Texas wished to fire on it there was no way he could stop him. He monitored Texas targetting radar as it locked on to the aircraft, ready to launch a Harpoon missile. Retvizan's own radar was tracking it also, and nine 9K38 Igla SAMs was slowly swivelling with their launching tubes awaiting a false move on the part of the Japanese. Lack of communication or bad intent on the part of the pilot would see this World War Two relic obliterated. He only hoped Fedyunsky was right about his hunch.

On shore, a party of Japanese had assembled to watch the landing of their comrades. Pavlov was now there with his marines covering the approach with 12.7mm machine guns.

As instructed, the Kawanishi circled over the mountains behind Eden until they were well to the East. Slowly it circled to lose height before making a landing approach down fjord. As it sank below the level of the cliffs the roar from its engines intensified. The noise mesmerised all the observers. Gorshin and Boomer listened for any indication the flying boat was throttling up for a high speed run over the subs. That would be the end of it and he hoped it didn't come to that.