Grand Alliance (Kirov Series) (4 page)

To
speed the battle there along, the Germans decided to send a single regiment of
the 1st Mountain Division, which landed at the small fishing ports in the north
between Gozo and Malta. From there they quickly moved south to join the
Fallschirmjagers, which were building up to near division strength on the
island by nightfall on January 28th when Rommel made the decision to cross into
Egypt. That was the day Fedorov had organized his rescue mission for General
O’Connor with Popski, and the fleet put to sea on the 29th.

The
following day, while Fedorov’s group hunkered down in the desert sandstorm,
Rommel was pushing his two divisions east with the two Italian motorized units.
1st Battalion, 61st Motorized of the Trento division were the first troops to
reach Bardia, jubilantly reclaiming that coastal fortress for El Duce. The
Armored cars of the 7th Bersaglieri Battalion pushed on ahead and swept into
Sollum by mid day on the 29th of January. They still had 23 operational
Autoblinda 41 armored cars out of the 30 they had started with way back at Agheila
on the Gulf of Sirte, a maintenance feat that was seldom equaled in this harsh
terrain.

On
their right, the tanks of the Ariete Division pushed quickly through the undefended
fort at Capuzzo, and reached Halfaya Pass. There they stopped to refuel and
repair while they waited for the divisional artillery to come up. A
reconnaissance had shown them the Australian Brigade digging in just beyond the
pass, and they knew that they would need those guns before any attempt could be
made to storm the narrow defile.

And so,
positions that might have proved very difficult to take if adequately defended
were all in hand by the morning of the 30th when Fedorov made his fateful
encounter with Lieutenant Reeves of the 12th Royal Lancers. They would take
that whole day to sort the situation through, but Brigadier Kinlan finally
decided to take Fedorov up on his offer to use the KA-40 to have a look around.
If nothing else, he would either prove or disprove the impossible premise he
had been led to believe. Fedorov had one final trump card to play in that game.
He thought they could have a quick look at Giarabub Oasis. If it was held by
the Italians, that would run the table. The evidence of a hostile force there
with old WWII equipment would be incontrovertible, but what they saw there was
far more than Fedorov expected.

* * *

O’Connor
had been steaming like dry ice where he waited with one of
the command vehicles. The men posted with him were respectful, and followed
full military protocols as per Brigadier Kinlan’s instructions. He did not want
the man any more ruffled than he already was, and knew one question would quickly
become three then five, then seven. So he assigned a staff adjutant to see to
the General’s needs, serving tea and other refreshment, which O’Connor found
most welcome. The Earl Grey went a long way towards soothing his temper, and he
felt like a civilized man again for the first time in what seemed like many
long weeks.

Then
the weariness of the hour, the long desert trek and fatigue overcame him, and
he drifted off to some much needed sleep on a cot set beside a large tracked
vehicle. Some hours later he awoke, finding a Sergeant Major in attendance and
ready with boiled eggs, muffins and jam, and more tea. It was very near dawn,
or so he came to feel, his instincts well honed after months in the desert. He
was grateful for the warm woolen blanket he found draped over him, as the
mornings were quite cold before the sun was up to heat the day.

He
seemed a bit groggy for a time, yet soon remembered where he was, blinking,
bleary eyed. In spite of that, his mind was taking in everything he saw around
him, with a mixed feeling of suspicion and wonderment. He had never seen a
vehicle like this one behind him, let alone the Scimitar tanks he had
encountered earlier. Kinlan had discretely ordered the two HQ Challengers to be
moved during the night so, when O’Connor got up to stretch his legs, they were
no longer there to be seen.

Now he
was in a circle of odd looking new vehicles, two FV432s, and a pair of Sultan
Armored Command Vehicles, which looked much like oversized light Mark VI
tankettes. One had a large vertically displayed map next to a retractable side
desk, where three men sat on a bench making notations on the map board, their
heads and ears covered with headsets that were obviously for local area radio
communications. There was other odd looking equipment about, which was actually
a battery of the 16th Regiment, Royal Artillery, a Rapier air defense system
protecting the headquarters.

“See
here,” he said to the Sergeant Major standing by for security. “You chaps seem
to have things well wired here. Has there been any word from Alexandria?”

“I
haven’t been informed of anything sir, but I would be happy to check with the
comm-shack.” Sergeant Dilling had been told to see to the General’s comfort,
and by all means to keep him safely where he was, and out of trouble. He had no
idea who this visitor was, or why he would be decked out in such an archaic
uniform, but he did his best nonetheless—for the third time—returning a few
minutes later to report that they had no recent communications of any note.

At this
O’Connor exhaled, frustrated and eager to be up and about his business again.
He needed to get to Alexandria, but this unit was quite a mystery to him.

“Just
who do you say you are out here, Sergeant?”

“Sir?”

“What
unit are you, man? Are you out from Siwa?”

“No sir,”
said Dilling politely, answering the second question while ignoring the first.
He had been told to say as little as possible about the business of the brigade,
but he could see that this man was getting up a good head of steam and seemed
restless to be up and about, which would be his problem. Thankfully he was
reinforced by a Major from Brigadier Kinlan’s staff and was able to recede, off
the hook for the moment.

“Ah,
there you are General,” said Major Isaac. “I have been asked to inquire on your
wellbeing, sir. I trust you managed to get a few hours sleep.”

“Quite
so,” said O’Connor, “and a better breakfast than I’ve had for a good long
while.”

“Splendid.
Well, sir, if you would be so good as to accompany me, we’ve arranged for a
local area reconnaissance. Brigadier Kinlan would be very pleased if you would come
along.”

That
sounded better. Reconnaissance was an art O’Connor strongly believed in, but he
wondered what this was about, and asked as much.

“Well
sir,” said Major Isaac, “that storm could have masked a host of unpleasantries
out here, and it’s standard procedure to have a good look around before we move
the column out. General Kinlan was most eager to have you along. Then we can
see about getting you to Alexandria. Right this way, sir.”

At
last, thought O’Connor. Things were starting to feel just a bit more normal
now. For a moment there he had the distinct feeling that he was being treated
like an outsider here, an interloper, and even came to feel he was being
considered a prisoner! The questions that had succumbed to the weariness of the
night were all with him again now. Who were these men? Why were they dressed so
strangely, and by god, where did they get all these odd new vehicles? He had
seen two tanks the other night, but they were gone now, and for a moment he
doubted what he had seen. It must have been the bloody sand storm, a trick of
light and shadow in the wind.

Yet
what he saw next did little to still his mind. He was politely ushered aboard a
vehicle, where two curious looking soldiers sat with unusual looking rifles,
and the hatch was closed, obscuring everything from view. Yet O’Connor had a
good pair of ears, and he knew the sounds of a military unit waking up in the
desert, shaking off the cold, warming up and getting ready to move soon.

“You’ve
obviously just come off the boat,” he said to the Major. “Yet I can’t imagine
why, or even how you managed to get the ten or twenty odd vehicles you have
here this far south, and it sounds like there’s a good deal more here. Just what
are you up to out here, Major? A reinforcement sent to Fergusson at Siwa?”

Like
Dillings, the Major had been told to divulge as little as possible and simply
get the General into a secure vehicle, with no windows, and get him out to the
Russian helicopter. So he fell back on the one thing that he knew might allow
him a brief holding action here, and punted.

“Well
sir, I haven’t been fully briefed on the situation. Brigadier Kinlan has simply
asked me to convey his invitation, and stated he preferred to brief you in
person.”

“Good
enough, Major.” That made sense to O’Connor, and so he let the matter go, but
one question after another was waking up in his head again and, when the
vehicle finally stopped and he stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness, he got
yet another surprise to be standing in the shadow of a massive mechanical
beast, a huge metal locust, with long bladed wings.

* * *

Fedorov
was there to greet him, along with Brigadier Kinlan, who
saluted. The two men had conferred over how they would handle the matter with
O’Connor. The only question now was whether they could pull it off.

“You
can’t just come out with this cockamamie tale about time travel,” said Kinlan.
“Yes, you’ve managed to drag my horse’s ass to the water, but it’s rather brackish
and unpalatable. I at least had some understanding of what you tried to convey.
I know what nuclear weapons are, and the strange effects they give rise to, but
this man hasn’t even heard of something like radiation, let alone EMP or this
fracturing of time you’re arguing. He has no framework whatsoever to understand
any of this.”

There
it was again, thought Popski. What in bloody hell was EMP? What was this talk
of nuclear weapons? The two seemed right chummy on the subject, but I’ve no
idea what they’re talking about.

“Tell
him in the short run we’ll have to take things easy,” said Fedorov. It was a
real dilemma, and he had to think what to do here. They could just spirit
O’Connor away to Alexandria and get him out of the picture. That would be the
safest bet, but it would only postpone the inevitable. One day he would have to
see what was down there, massed on the desert floor in the fighting steel and
Dorchester Chobham armor of the 7th Brigade, and one day he would have to know
the truth. But yet he still felt that secrecy was best for the moment. The bear
would wake up and get out of his den in due course.

His
mind went round and round about it. Could they say this unit had been sent from
England, a highly classified war secret, with new weapons and vehicles being
deployed for the very first time? This was a lie that would soon become the
thin veil it was, for one look at a Challenger II up close, or a good look
inside the command compartment of any of these vehicles, would reveal more than
he could explain away with that line. There were touch screen digital panels,
technology and equipment that would amaze and dazzle any man of this era. He
remembered the look on Tovey’s face when they brought him aboard
Kirov
and showed him the missiles and radar stations up close. And Tovey had a whole
other life to prepare him for what he saw there. In fact, he had come to the
truth about the ship they had once called
Geronimo
all on his own,
albeit with the able assistance of Alan Turing.

Telling
O’Connor the truth would be like throwing the man in ice water just now, but he
would have to know, just as Kinlan had to know. The future would have to meet
the past here, shake hands to reach a mutual understanding somehow, and it was
up to him to make that so. But how? How could he wade in gently, and slowly
lead this man to the truth?

Part II

Awakening

“And so it is,
that both the devil and the angelic spirit present us with objects of desire to
awaken our power of choice.”

―
Rumi

Chapter 4

“Russians?
This is a Russian aircraft?” O’Connor gave
the KA-40 a good long look, amazed. “I had no idea they were working on
helicopters.”

 The
idea had been around for centuries, and several British thinkers had
experimented with designs for such aircraft. Even Jules Verne had brought one
to life in his book
The Clipper of the Clouds
, and Thomas Edison had
modeled helicopters in the United States long ago. So it was something O’Connor
could grasp without undue difficulty, yet there had never been an engine
powerful enough to make the dream a reality—until now.

“We’ve
been working on these for quite some time,” Fedorov had Popski explain. “Ever
since Igor Ivanovitch Sikorsky and Boris Yur'ev experimented with designs in
the early 1900s. Your own Westland Corporation is also interested in this kind
of aircraft.”

“When
they see the likes of this one their eyes will bug out,” said O’Connor.