Three Kings

It was true, impossibly true, and here they were in January of 1941! There were some odd stories in the stream that he could not quite get a handle on. From what he could gather there was fighting in the Caucasus, but a quick fact check told him that should not be happening until July of 1942. The startling thing was that it seemed to be a battle between two Russian factions, and he caught news of the Orenburg Federation and the siege of Novorossiysk that made no sense to him. There was also fighting on Malta, and he knew enough about the old war to realize there should not be fighting there at all, except the air duel that made the place one of the most heavily bombed pieces of real estate in the war.

Confused and frustrated, he took the information to the Captain first, and the two men were discussing it in the ready room off the Bridge.

“It doesn’t make any sense. What’s this Orenburg Federation?”

“Beats me, Mack. And you’re correct about that report of fighting on Malta. That never happened.”

“Yeah? Well I looked a few things up. The Germans are in Greece, but that wasn’t supposed to happen until April of ’41. In North Africa the British were supposed to have takenDerna in Libya on their first offensive of the war against the Italians, but it’s the other way around! They just retreated from the place, and guess who’s nipping at their heels-Rommel. He wasn’t suppose to set foot in Libya for another two weeks, arriving with his 5th Light Division and a Valentine on the 14th of February, but he’s already closing in on Tobruk. Things are all out of whack, Gordon. If this is 1941 then someone has shuffled the deck here, and we’re not being dealt a fair hand.”

It was then that there came a knock on the door, and Executive Officer Dean was there, a look of concern on his face. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said still using the more relaxed protocols of civility, as the ship had always been a corporate HQ. “It seems we have an AEW warning light.”

“Air alert?” That got Captain MacRae’s attention immediately.

“Yes sir, Mister Haley says it looks to be a flight of five aircraft, relatively slow, and coming from the vicinity of Athens to our northwest.” They had been cruising forHeraklion on Crete, and were now passing the second in a string of five Greek Islands off their starboard side, Kythnos. Athens was a little over 100 kilometers to the northwest.”

“Well stand to, Mister Dean! The next time you get such a warning the ship is to come to full alert, with all battle stations manned. Understood?”

“Aye sir. Sorry sir.”

“Consider this ship to be on a wartime footing from this moment forward,” MacRae reinforced his order. “Come on, Mack. Let’s see what we have.”

They were soon out with the bridge crew, who had the news of what happened but were understandably confused by it all. They had been facing the difficult prospect of surviving a war in 2021, now they were right in a new kettle, and having difficulty getting their minds around the news they had been given.

“Listen up!” MacRae thought he had better get the crew focused again. “Enough chit chat over what’s happened to us. We’re here, and it’s bloody well 1941. That’s the fact of it, and one we’re going to be living with for some time. And if any of you still remember your history books, there’s a war on here as well, and a damn nasty one. So buck up! This is a war zone, and from this moment forward this is a ship of war, and in the service of the Royal Navy. We may still be wearing our dress whites, but the gloves are comin’ off, ladies and gentlemen. Now… What do we have, Mister Haley?”

“Air contact, 80 kilometers out at 15,000 feet. Flight of five aircraft, speed 300KPH. They look to be vectored right in on our heading sir.”

“Air alert one!” MacRae gave his voice the amplitude the moment required. He had to get the crew’s instincts and reflexes sharpened for war, and shake them from the dazed stupor that had seemed to settle over the entire ship when Ms. Fairchild made the announcement on the P.A. system explaining what had happened. Now she was walking the ship, talking with the crew, answering the thousand questions that were sure to be asked by her 300 Spartans.

Haley punched the audible alarm, and the warning claxon sounded. The deck panels opened and the sleek lines of the ship were now studded with the emerging close in defense guns, a pair of Phalanx CIWS systems, two Oerlikon 30mm batteries, augmented by two miniguns and six more general purpose MGs. But the ship’s real air defense was in her missiles, a cell of speedy Sea Vipers under the forward deck. They were so accurate they could hit a cricket ball in flight. They had fired 12 of 48 in the Black Sea against the Russians, and were now ready to deal with this new threat, whatever it might be. Crews in battle dress were already preparing the close in defense systems, removing the protective gun tarps as the batteries emerged from their hidden underdeck compartments.