Down to the Sea (30 page)

He chopped the throttle back completely. As he pulled off his helmet and goggles, he was suddenly aware that he was sweating profusely.

He unstrapped the safety harness, stood up, climbed out of the cockpit, and dropped to the deck. Instantly he was surrounded by a shouting, joyous mob—engineers from the design team, Theodor leading the way, Quintus and the launch crew swarming in around him. He caught a glimpse of the admiral up on the bridge, who, though looking a bit glum, formally saluted.

“What do the Yankees say?” Adam laughed. “A piece of cake. Now let’s try the Goliath.”

He tried to walk, but suddenly his knees felt like jelly, and he had to sit down. The crowd around him broke into appreciative laughs.

Theodor shooed them back and took a seat beside him. “How does it feel to be the first man to take off and land on an aerosteamer carrier?”

“A what?”

“That’s what we’re calling them. Aerosteamer carriers.” Adam smiled, afraid to speak, the sudden surge of fear still holding him. So much could have gone wrong. He should have simply fallen over the edge of the deck and then drowned. He could have come in too high and slammed into the bridge, or too low and crashed against the fantail. What sounded so easy in late-night arguments, or when first tested only a week ago on a regular landing strip, now seemed little short of insane.

“Scared?” Theodor asked.

Adam smiled, shook his head, then, looking into Theodor’s eyes, he slowly nodded in agreement.

“I was petrified every time I went up,” Theodor said. “Flew eighty-two missions during the war and afterward and near peed myself on every one. In fact, if I remember correctly, I did pee myself when we started to burn and crashed at Hispania. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not as easy as we boasted it would be,” Adam whispered.

“I know, I could see that. If we don’t have fifteen or more knots of wind, it’ll damn near be suicide unless we get those catapults in place.”

Theodor sighed.

“The president wants these three ships ready to sail within the week. We’ve got to train sixty pilots to do this, and then”—he hesitated—“and then fly straight into their fleet and attack.”

He looked back at Adam.

“We’ll bring the Goliath up from below. Do you feel up to trying it, or should we call it a day?”

Adam smiled. “No problem. Let’s get it done.”

Theodor clapped him on the shoulder. “Take a break, son. It’ll be a half an hour or more before we have it topside and ready to fly.”

Adam refused Theodor’s help as he stood up and walked toward the bridge. He smiled again as dozens of men surrounded him, shouting congratulations and slapping him on the back. He waved good-naturedly, a bit of a swagger in his walk, reached the edge of the wooden top deck, found a ladder, and scrambled down to the main deck below.

What had once been intended as the main deck upon which the superstructure, turrets, and mounts for the three masts were to be placed had been covered over with yet more planking. The flight deck, twenty feet above, ran the entire length of the ship, vertical support beams to hold the deck hastily bolted into place. What was now the lower deck acted as the storage and maintenance deck, which would be filled with aerosteamers, their munitions, and supplies. It was presently occupied by a lone, Goliath twin-engine plane, wings folded in, rudder detached.

A steam whistle sounded, the alert signal that the ramp was about to be lowered. The deck overhead just forward of the fantail suddenly opened, powered by half a hundred men on pulleys. The hinged deck ponderously dropped down to form a ramp to the lower main deck.

A crew scrambled around the Goliath, hooking a hoist cable to the nose. Topside, fifty men began to pull, and ever so slowly the ungainly-looking aerosteamer rolled up the thirty-degree incline, crew chiefs shouting orders.

As Adam watched, the entire show seemed somehow unreal—and also far too slow. It might work here, on the calm Inland Sea, with no enemy in sight, but a better way would have to be found. A ship would have to be designed from the keel up for this job. But for now this was all they had, and in thirty minutes he was going to have to fly that thing, bring it back, and land it.

Turning, he rushed to the railing, leaned over, and vomited.

It all seemed like a dream.

Sean O’Donald stood on the foredeck of
Ulgana
, the Kazan ship of the line named after the third keeper of the underworld. Looking aft, he was awed by the sight, the sense of power the ship conveyed. Its three forward turrets, each carrying a massive ten-inch gun, barrels raised to maximum elevation, were pointing broadside to starboard in salute as they passed the emperor. The entire starboard railing, from bow to stern, was lined with the crew, clenched fists raised in salute.

His view of the emperor’s flagship was blocked by the massive bulk of the Kazan sailors, and he turned away, attention turning to the harbor. Over a hundred transport ships filled the great bay. Since the day before yesterday, five umens-of the Shiv, three legions of imperial troops, a full division of land cruisers, and another of heavy artillery had been loading up, and the ships were starting to weigh anchor, ready to fall in astern of the main battle line, comprised of eight main battleships like
Ulgana
, a dozen heavy cruisers, and more than twenty frigates.

Even the lightest frigate would be a match for anything the Republic could put to sea, and that realization chilled what little doubt still lingered in his heart.

Am I really a traitor as Cromwell said? he wondered.

He could see Hazin up on the bridge, rendering the proper ceremonial salute as they passed the emperor.

So unlike anything I ever imagined of their race, he thought. Always my father called them beasties; barbarians fit only for extinction. Yet in the brief time he had spent among them, he had seen things never imagined.

Suzdal, even Roum, when compared to the glittering capital city, were but stink holes. Smoke-belching factories surrounded Suzdal, sometimes blackening the sky even at midday, and Roum was but a shadow of her former glory, a fair part of it still in ruins from the Great War.

Even the poorest of Kazan lived better than many in Suzdal. None were left to starve. Food and shelter were given by the emperor, and entertainment provided. While in Suzdal many still worked twelve-hour days in stygian darkness in the mines or choking in the great foundries.

Even the entertainment now intrigued him, a demonstration of remorseless courage unlike anything he had ever imagined. If that was how the Shiv performed in battle, nothing, not even all the veterans of the legendary 35th Maine, could stand up to them.

They were the future, he realized, not the grasping of the Republic, which seemed so divided against itself, which pitted rich against poor, state against state, all a mad babble of voices, led by men like his father who bellowed and drank. There was no elegance, no culture, no unity of purpose, and that was what truly intrigued him, the single mind that could control all and offer a dream of the future.

In a month’s time the fleet of the Republic would be gone, swept away in its first encounter, and for that he felt true regret. Though he no longer loved what he had once served, nevertheless he had taken an oath and more than one friend would be on those ships.

But, as Hazin said, the price of power, the price of glory, must be paid in blood.

Once defeated, once the Shiv and the imperial umens had landed on the Bantag coast and Constantine pounded into surrender, the Republic would disintegrate. The internal bickering, the pulling to different goals, the resentment of south to north and frontier to the settled west, would ensure that.

What Hazin offered, though, and what had been the factor that had captivated him, was a final ending to the divisions.

Hazin held out a dream, of human and nonhuman united in one empire, which the Republic could never achieve. That was his reason for being here now, he realized. It was not Karinia, though she had opened the door. It was the dream of a final ending without total annihilation of one or the other.

Once achieved, the secrets of the Portals could at last be explored, revealed, and opened. Then everyone would see the truth behind the Order and all that it promised. An escape from this mad world, a quest to places undreamed and, if need be, to conquer them.

He knew that even now his thoughts were still laced with drugs that coursed through his soul, altering his dreams, shaping his every wakeful moment, but he did not care. He felt liberated by the joy of the moment, the unity of purpose, the chanting of the emperor’s name, the great power of the ship he rode that, alone, could crush any who resisted.

Facing back to the bridge, he saw Hazin and raised his clenched fist in salute. To his amazement, Hazin turned, smiled, and returned the salute, a gesture that brought tears to his eyes.

“Well, Commander Cromwell, all this fuss and excitement simply because we fished you out of the water.”

Still standing at attention, Richard figured it was best not to reply. He stepped forward and laid the briefcase on Admiral Bullfinch’s desk.

.“Do you know what’s in here?” Bullfinch asked.

“Sir, the presidential seal is intact.”

“Damn it, man, I can see that. But you must have a sense of what the hell it is they are doing up there in Suzdal.”

“I attended several meetings, sir, if that’s what you mean.”

“Relax, Cromwell. I told you to be my eyes up there, I want to know.”

Richard took the word
relax
to mean that he could stand at ease, and he did so.

Bullfinch leaned back in his chair, looked appraisingly at Richard. “Hard to believe you are old Tobias’s son.” Richard stiffened slightly, and Bullfinch put out his hand and waved it in a conciliatory gesture.

“No, no, don’t take offense. It’s just, remember, I served under your father for over a year. They pushed my class out of Annapolis early because the navy was desperate for officers. I’d hoped for one of the new steam frigates; instead I got a transport ship. Damn, how your father hated that. I mean the ship, not me. He wanted action the same as I did.” Bullfinch smiled wistfully. “We both got more than we’d bargained for.”

As he spoke he popped the seal on the case and opened it, pulling out several thick folders that, in turn, had been sealed as well.

“Looks all very official and businesslike. Now tell me, Cromwell, what did you see, and what do you think about all this?”

“The president’s speech, I read it in the papers on the way down. I think he laid it out quite clearly. The Kazan are coming, so now is the time to mobilize and present a unified front.”

“I read that as well,” Bullfinch snapped. “Andrew at his best, but that’s not what I asked for. What is it that you really saw?”

Richard hesitated. He was being asked to comment on things political, a realm he wished to avoid whenever possible.

“Out with it, Cromwell.”

“Indecision and confusion, sir.”

“Ah, now we are getting down to facts.”

“No, sir, just my opinion as you asked for it.”

“They trained you well at the academy, Cromwell.”

“Sir?”

“The military and politics to be forever kept apart. Facts versus opinion. Cromwell, politics has precious little to do with facts and everything to do with opinion, so go ahead.”

“President Keane clearly understands the issue.”

“In other words, he completely believed you.”

“I wouldn’t venture an opinion on that, sir. He said that we have to believe my report, for to do otherwise is folly.” Bullfinch grunted, his one eye baleful, gaze locked on Cromwell.

“You realize, Cromwell, that if you are wrong, if it should turn out that these bastards are not attacking, then the entire navy will look like fools. Half the senate will scream we cooked the whole thing up to ram through another appropriation. I do not take kindly to being made to look like a fool. Do you get my drift, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, thinking it best not to correct the admiral concerning his new rank.

“The father of Sean O’Donald is one of my closest friends, Cromwell. On the other hand, your father was one of my most bitter foes. The fact that I now have to accept the word of one son over another, an accusation that Sean O’Donald cannot even defend himself against, is an outrage to me.”

“You know about Sean, sir?” Cromwell gasped.

“The whole damn Republic knows about him.” He reached over to the table behind his desk and picked up a copy of Gates’s
Daily
.

“Some damn congressional assistant spilled it last night, and Gates printed it, damn his hide. Sherman was right: every damn newspaperman should be given a choice, either hang them or hand them a gun and put them on the front line. This will break old Pat’s heart. It will kill him, Lieutenant, kill him.”

Richard did not reply.

“You were in this office less than two weeks ago, still dripping wet from your alleged adventure. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this? As you commanding officer you should have reported to me any allegations you might have against a brother officer first rather than have it spill out like this.”

As he spoke, he coiled the paper up and slammed it several times on his desk and then in disgust threw it so that it landed at Cromwell’s feet.

“Sir.” He struggled to control his voice, to not let a hint of anger show. “I kept it in confidence because I believed it proper to first inform Senator O’Donald personally.”

“You mean, you told him this to his face?” As he spoke, Bullfinch rose half out of his chair, pointing at the paper, shouting so loudly that Cromwell knew that every officer and sailor in the outer office was most likely standing stock still, soaking in every word.

“Yes, sir. He was the first to know. Him and the president. I have discussed it with no one else since, other than now with you. If some”—he paused for a second and then let it spill out, raising his voice so that the unseen audience could hear his reply—“damn loose-mouthed pencil pusher in Congress ran and told the press about it, I can assure you, sir, it did not come from me. I resolved that no one other than Lieutenant O’Donald’s father would ever know of what happened out there, and I kept that promise to myself and to him.”