Einstein Must Die! (Fate of Nations Book 1) (12 page)

Lucas joined Morgan at the bay doors. “We need this open now, my friend.”

Morgan nodded. “Almost have it. The hydraulic lines run this way,” he said, following the black rubber hoses to a panel with two levers. He put his hands on them and pushed. Nothing.

“We have company!” yelled Eliza. “Four, at least!”

***

The king pressed his hands against his ears, and he saw everyone else was doing the same. The wailing klaxon was distressingly loud.
 

He looked about the room, and finding a crew member, yelled above the alarm. “What is happening? Bring me the captain!”

The king’s scowl told the officer all he needed to know, and he nodded, then ran off for the bridge.

***

Eliza risked another look around the corner. She peeked her head around the corner, saw a bright flash, and jerked back as a lead slug slammed into the bulkhead, barely missing her eye.

“Make that five!” she yelled to Lucas. “Royal Marines. And they’re not happy.”

“Guess not,” offered Morgan. “Reckless bastards shouldn’t be shooting on a hydrogen ship.”

Eliza swung the officer’s sidearm around the corner, firing blindly twice down the corridor.

Lucas tossed the heavy rope coil on top of the bay doors. He found an end and began tying it off to the overhead bomb rack.

“How about we get out of here, hmm?”

Morgan tried the hydraulic levers again. He pushed them forward. Nothing. He pulled them back. Nothing. He punched the panel, screaming. “Dammit!” He looked around the bay for a solution.

Lucas cinched a fast bowline knot to the bomb rack. “Eliza, we are leaving!”
 

She fell back, joining them, but kept her sidearm trained on the bulkhead door.
 

Lucas turned to Morgan, yelling over the alarm. “Now, Morgan!”

Morgan raised his hands in surrender, then froze. An idea came to him. He slipped a knife from his boot and grabbed the twin hydraulic hoses in a tight fist. He slipped the blade under the rubber hoses, and slashed upward through them. The blade cut cleanly through, and the hoses leaped from his grasp, writhing like two angry snakes, spewing thin, brown liquid over him, Lucas, and half the bay.

But the doors fell open. With the pressure released, gravity drew the doors down. They hung barely halfway open, but it was more than enough for a man to slip through. The coil of rope fell through the gap, streaming out to its full length. Cold wind ripped through the gap, blowing Lucas’s hair back.

Lucas flashed Morgan a thumbs-up. He leaned over the gaping doors and looked down. Vertigo made his stomach clench, and he grabbed hold of the bomb rack frame above the open doors. He guessed they were two hundred feet off the ground. The rope covered maybe half that.
 

Morgan came up with the same math. “That’s a hundred-foot fall, Lucas…”

Lucas checked his watch. “You’ve got one minute to find your courage, my friend.”

Before he could reply, two marines burst through the door. Like the gate guards, they wore the striking scarlet jackets with white chest band. And they carried Vickers submachine guns.

The marines squeezed the triggers, and a lethal flood of lead rounds screamed toward the intruders.
 

Lucas was behind the bomb rack, and the heavy guide rails caught most of the bullets headed for him. Several rounds slammed into the wall behind him, but many struck the rails, and ricocheted crazily in the bay.
 

Then one slug found its way through the framework and tore through Lucas’s calf. He cried out from the trauma and pitched sideways toward the open bay doors.
 

Morgan yelled for him. “Lucas!” He reached for his friend, but was just out of reach. Lucas stumbled, then fell through the gaping bomb bay.

Eliza saw Lucas fall, but forced herself to focus on the most critical threat. She crouched low, turning sideways to present the smallest possible target and lined up her first shot. The first marine was moving quickly. She led his movement, and smoothly squeezed the trigger. The marine’s jaw exploded and he collapsed. She swung her aim toward the second marine, as her peripheral vision told her three more had entered the bay.

Morgan’s eyes were locked on the open bay doors where Lucas had fallen. Then he turned to those responsible. With a guttural roar, he charged straight at them, both fists eager to pound bone and brain. He saw one marine go down with a shattered jaw, then saw the other one lift his Vickers.
 

Morgan surged forward to close the gap, but it wasn’t enough. The marine opened fire. One round ripped through Morgan’s bicep. He screamed as another bullet tore through his shoulder, then another hit him in the chest, shredding his lung. He slumped to his knees, blood frothing in his mouth. He fell forward, then went still.

“No!” screamed Eliza. She took aim at the marine who’d killed Morgan, and sent a round into his chest, then another into his temple. The three new marines saw her, and she dove for cover as they brought their guns to bear on her.

Outside, below the airship, Lucas was falling. The cold air roared around his head, even louder than the alarm klaxon had been. He twisted in the air, slipping closer to his death by the second. The massive airship flashed above him, then he spun and saw the airbase and the nearby forest. The rope he’d secured whipped past him, and he reached out, frantic. His arm caught, then lost, then caught the line.
 

He spun his arm around madly, wrapping the line around it. Then he pulled hard, clenching his arm against his chest. The line tightened like a python, biting deep into his forearm. The friction burned through the thin worker’s uniform, then continued burning through his skin. A vise grip clamped down on his forearm, and the line dug itself into his fragile arm, but it caught.
 

He stopped with a sickening jerk, and the tendons in his shoulder and elbow screamed in protest. The pain blinded Lucas, and he blinked repeatedly, working the tears from his eyes. The roaring wind wicked them away, and he realized with surprise that he was hanging from the floating airship.
 

Eliza scrambled away from the three marines as they opened fire. A blistering hail of lead tore through the bay, and she screamed, covering her head as she crouched behind a heavy winch motor. The bullets ripped and shredded the wood shelves above her, and a dozen technical manuals rained down on her. The shelves disintegrated into splinters, and she knew the bullets would do the same to her flesh. Unconsciously, she ran through her tactical options, and came up short. She checked the sidearm. The magazine held five more rounds. More than enough, she figured. She got ready to launch one final assault.

Just then, inside a crate of bananas, a timer’s clockwork clicked. An electrical connection was made, and with one small spark, fourteen sticks of dynamite detonated. The explosion blew through the shunt control room, ripping through the room’s ceiling, and rupturing three of the six petrol tanks stored there. The additional fuel added its energy to the blast, and the explosion grew into a fireball.

The detonation rocked the
Artemis
, and knocked Eliza back, landing hard on her bottom. She recovered and slid around the winch, gun raised. The three marines had also been thrown to the floor, and she sighted the first. She fired, and he fell back, clutching his eye. She fired again, and the man next to him took a round in the gut. She swiveled for the last marine, but he wasn’t there. She scanned the room, but he was gone.
 

She jumped up and ran to the bomb bay doors, ready to power slide down the line. Looking down, she saw Lucas swinging on the rope like a distant pendulum, and her heart lifted.

Lucas dangled from the end of the line, hanging a hundred feet below the
Artemis
. He saw a flash of movement and saw Eliza in the bomb bay, her hand up in greeting. He waved his free arm frantically. “Come on!” he yelled, but the wind stole the sound away.

The petrol tanks had given their all to create the fireball, and it tore loose within the HMS
Artemis
. The petrol storage room disappeared in a blinding flash. The force channeled into the main exhaust shaft, racing upward, then the shaft exploded, sending shrapnel tearing through the lower crew compartment, auxiliary control, and the aft-most hydrogen cell.
 

The ruptured cell began bleeding hydrogen into the ship’s upper chamber. Emergency fire suppression systems snapped on, but rather than dousing the flames in a heavy shower of water, only a weak trickle dripped out. Without water pressure, the system was impotent.

The expanding fireball surged through the ventilation shafts, spidering out throughout the ship until it found the upper chamber. The flames touched the hydrogen gas, and the fireball became a monster.

Eliza grabbed the line and looked down, the cool wind whipping her hair back. Lucas was still there, dangling above a small pond. She started to leap onto the line, when something forced her to look up.
 

Hot, searing air washed over her. She knew the shock wave would be right behind it. No time, and no chance. Before even deciding to, she had her blade in hand.
 

With one last glance at Lucas, she sliced the line and watched it fall away. She looked up to see a solid wall of furious, roiling fire sweeping toward her.

Lucas felt the sudden lurch of gravity as he fell again. The line was loose in his hands, but he grabbed it with white knuckles anyway. He fell backward, looking up at the doomed airship. In the bay doors, Eliza waved, then was engulfed in flames.
 

With a deafening boom, the shock wave hit Lucas next, propelling him down to earth even faster. He spun through the air, then crashed into the pond, driven down to the bottom. Above him, the HMS
Artemis
went nova.
 

The monster rampaged the length of the ship in the blink of an eye. Even twenty-five feet under water, the glare was blinding, and Lucas squeezed his eyes shut tight.

He still saw Eliza.

MADELAINE BROWNING

Tesla realized he was drifting back to consciousness.
 

He couldn’t see anything, then decided that was to be expected, since he hadn’t opened his eyes yet. His fingers moved, and he felt the tight-knit carpet of his room. He sensed someone else in the room with him. He smelled something pleasant. Perfume?

He willed his eyes to open, and the sudden light stabbed into his sore head. “Ohh,” he moaned and shut them again.

“Come on, you can do it,” a female voice coaxed.

His forehead scrunched, wondering if the voice understood how badly he felt.

But he looked again and saw a cute, blurry female kneeling over him. Her long blonde hair was familiar. “Savannah?” he whispered.

“Ha!” The girl laughed. “Hey, Mom, he isn’t dead after all.”

His eyes focused, and he realized the girl above him was around twelve. That would make her…

Savannah walked into sight, standing behind her daughter. “You gave us a real fright, Nikola.”

Tesla stared at Savannah, then at the cheery face right above him. The resemblance was quite strong.
 

“Madelaine Browning,” he said. “Despite the circumstances, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled, and he saw that her mother’s infectious smile had been inherited, along with the blonde hair.
 

“Aw, what a gentleman. Flat on your back, and all polite still.” She took his hand and pumped it twice. “A pleasure to meet you too, sir.”

Savannah crouched beside him. “When you didn’t arrive for our coffee, I grew concerned. Mrs. Harrison let us in. She’s off calling for a doctor.” She reached under his shoulder to lift him from the floor. “Here, let me help…”

He rolled forward and sat up. The headache was now a railroad spike through his brain, and the left side of his face felt thick and swollen.

“Ugh,” he muttered.

“Indeed,” said Savannah. “I’m guessing it wasn’t my father who hit you.”

He started to shake his head, then decided against it. “No. The colonel and I had a lovely evening, actually. This was… something else.”

Savannah frowned. “Something else related to your gambling debts?”

“So you know about that.”

“Of course, Nikola. You don’t get cleared for the things you did without being checked out.”

That made sense. “Yes, quite right. Of course,” he agreed. “I’m afraid I’m not exactly at my best.”

“You got that right, brother,” offered Madelaine.

“Be nice,” said Savannah.

With a hand from the two women, he got to his feet, then paused, making sure he could stand unassisted. So far, so good.

He set the overturned chair back upright and retrieved his overcoat from the floor. Hanging it back on its hook, he turned and found Madelaine inspecting his equipment.

Savannah still focused on him, her wary look telling him he must look fairly rough.
 

“I’m fine, Mrs. Browning, really. I just need some sleep, is all.”

“Uh-huh.”