Einstein Must Die! (Fate of Nations Book 1) (24 page)

Many were tending to the wounded. Tourniquets were being wound, stretchers were brought out, and a makeshift morgue had begun to separate the dead from the living. Beowulf ground to a stop beside the sole remaining living British, Lieutenant Danvers. The man wore a brave face, but knew he was in a bad spot. To run the point home, he had to crane his neck up to see the top of the battle tank standing over him. At that moment a lifetime free of combat seemed sweet indeed.

The stunned Americans crowded around, awed by the scale of Beowulf and what he had just accomplished. Some reached out to touch him, to convince themselves the past few minutes had actually happened.

Beowulf spoke to the intimidated officer. “Who are you?” he demanded, fully knowing the effect his amplified voice would have.

Danvers flinched, but was interrupted before finding his voice.

“Forget him,” Sergeant Miller said, stepping forward and gently running two fingers along a woven-steel tread. “Who are
you
?”

He paused before replying. Now that the threat was past, what should he say? He was a top-secret project that had just been extravagantly exposed to the world. Should he let them know he was their colonel, just in a new form? Would that only shock them more? He struggled with the dilemma for a full five-tenths of a second, before finally deciding his best option was silence.

The Americans had taken Danvers into custody, and there was nothing more he could do here. Ignoring the question, he slowly turned and cautiously drove out of the base. Once outside, he accelerated, then curved around, heading for the valley and the home of Tesla’s lab.

***

Major Thomas had seen the fleeing staff sergeant escape. He’d known to avoid the main gate, and instead climbed atop a building near the base wall and gone over it, landing a good distance away from the base entrance. From there he ran for the nearest tree line.

The major kicked his horse up to speed and raced to intercept him. The jittery sergeant was spooked by a rider after him, then greatly relieved to see the major.

“Sergeant!” called the major.

“Major. Thank God!” the exhausted man replied. “You saw that thing?”

“I did, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t think anyone has,” said the sergeant, leaning one hand against a tree and breathing hard. “I think the lieutenant was captured.”

The major nodded. “He was.” The disgrace of being taken alive would be the first entry in the lieutenant’s military career. And maybe the last. The major’s effort to find Savannah had cost him his lieutenant and a full company of men. He hated her even more for it.

He saw the sergeant eyeing his canteen, and he offered it. The sergeant raised it to his lips and eagerly gulped down the water. He was sloppy in his thirst, and half the water ran down the man’s front, soaking his chest.

He paused to continue speaking. “That thing was alive, Major.” He tipped the canteen back again and drained it.

“Alive? What do you mean by that?” The tank was monstrous, yes. But alive? He narrowed his eyes, wondering if the man had finally snapped from years in the field.

The sergeant saw the look. “Call me insane if you like, sir. But that thing moved like a person. It fought like a person. My brother drives a tank, and I am certain no human crew could do what I saw. Not possible.” He pointed back at the base. “That thing is a new invention, and a game changer. That’s my report, sir,” he said, handing back the empty canteen.

Major Thomas accepted it and thought about his words. From his viewpoint, the thing was brutally effective. He decided he had no opinion on the sergeant’s more fantastic claim of a living tank. But he’d heard of crazy new devices being invented by Einstein and his team of scientists. Was it possible the Americans had a similar magician?

It struck him then. That machine responded to the British threat because it had to. If they had never attacked this base, Fort Hamilton would have continued as a quiet, overlooked backwater. Which is precisely where you’d put your advanced research projects.

His passion had overridden his judgment in attacking Fort Hamilton, but by dumb luck, he’d uncovered a vital base for the Americans. Suddenly, the loss of one company seemed a fair price for such intelligence.

He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. Even with the remainder of his force in New Haven, he couldn’t take this base. Not with that thing guarding it. And if he waited too long, the Americans would redeploy it elsewhere. Maybe even to protect Boston.

He weighed his history with Savannah and the craving for revenge against the good of his country. Destroying that abomination had to come first, no matter the cost. Savannah, his daughter Madelaine, and the lieutenant had to be considered expendable. Sometimes official duty trumps personal needs.

He and the staff sergeant would ride back to New Haven, where he would order an immediate zeppelin bombing of this base. Before the next sunrise, that tank and everyone living near it would be ground to dust.

CAMARADERIE & BOMBS

The colonel sent the command codes for the outer doors and drove through the long, dark tunnel that led back to the lab. He’d grown more concerned about the security breach he and Tesla had committed. Not to say he wouldn’t make the same choice again. He saw firsthand that the entire base garrison would have been slaughtered if he hadn’t engaged the British.

Still, military and political brass weren’t always known for their common sense. He chuckled, realizing he’d just included himself in that assessment. Part of his arrangement with the government had been that he retained his full rank and privileges as a colonel.

He approached the inner doors with a growing sense of worry. The downside of processing thoughts at the speed of a computer meant he had more time to grow anxious. He commanded the inner doors to let him pass, and they obeyed. Scanning carefully for any technicians in his path, he motored forward into the lab.

“He’s back!” someone yelled, and the room erupted in a standing ovation. All around the lab, dozens of people stood and clapped, cheering his return.

“Not the response I expected,” he said to the room.

Everyone laughed, and he was pleased to see Tesla run forward with Bertram. “The general called down and told us all about it,” Tesla said. “You’re a war hero, Colonel.”

“And you just proved the viability of this project,” added Bertram. “Conclusively.”

“Well, I—” he replied. “I just reacted.”

“Damn right you did!” yelled Savannah from the far side of the lab. She ran forward, Madelaine struggling to keep up with her. She slid to a stop in front of the tank and looked up, beaming.

“You saved them, Dad,” she said. “You saved all of us.”

Madelaine caught up to her mother. She raised both arms wide in the air and squealed, “You kicked ass, Papa!”

“Kicked ass. A fair assessment,” agreed Tesla.

“I was worried about breaching project security—”

Tesla waved the concern away. “I made the call, Colonel, for right or wrong. Besides, with British troops on the ground, you would have been cleared soon. I spoke to the general, and he agreed. We’re in the clear on that issue.”

Tesla leaned in. “And the thrashing you gave the British certainly didn’t hurt our case.”

“It was incredible!” replied the colonel. “I felt invincible. I could process so much information. Like child’s play! Multiple firing solutions were trivial. Honestly, I felt like the god of war out there.”

“That’s my dad,” quipped Savannah. “Ever modest.”

“Well, I mean—” he said.

“I’m kidding!” She laughed. “A hundred and fifty dead, with no friendly fire? That’s kinda godlike. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

Tesla joined in. “Agreed. You’re damned tough, but not invincible. A company of infantry is one thing, but there will be much worse out there.”

“You still have to be careful, Papa,” said Madelaine.

“I know, honey,” he answered. “And I will, don’t you worry.”

Tesla turned to Bertram. “Shall we see how his systems fared in the battle?”

The lab director nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Our first combat trial! Damn exciting!”

“I’ll go over the RCA to begin with,” said Tesla.

“Right,” said Bertram. “Sophia, could you inspect Beowulf’s armor? Catalog any hits, what caused them, and the resulting damage?”

“Be happy to,” she replied.

“And George, get some help and check out the shredders. Sounds like the colonel put a lot of rounds through them. I’ll have a look at the drivetrain and furnace.”

For most of the day, the team went over every inch of Beowulf, recording any damage found and verifying all systems were still within desired parameters.

Sophia found dozens of impact marks along the hull armor, but none were more than scratches. The Enfield rounds had bounced off harmlessly, even the dozen impacts she found in the treads.

The shredders had been given a thorough workout, and the black powder buildup in the eight barrels proved it. George personally cleaned each one meticulously, spending four hours on the job. It wouldn’t do for Beowulf to have a jammed gun out there.

The colonel had burned through a good amount of coal, Bertram saw. Getting his mass up the valley’s slope at speed was energy-intensive. But coal was plentiful and cheap. While the nuclear boys upstairs were making great strides, they hadn’t yet gotten a reactor scaled down enough for powering a tank.

Bertram had the coal reserves refilled, and the steam tank’s gaskets and fittings checked. A few copper fittings had worked loose, letting some pressure escape. They were resoldered, and Bertram figured Beowulf would have an extra 6 percent power on his next outing.

The day passed smoothly, with everyone preoccupied on his assignments. Through it all the colonel felt humbled by their diligence and efforts. He supposed some hero worship was unavoidable, given the circumstances. But he continually felt his recent success against the British was very much a shared victory.

***

UPSTATE NEW YORK, USA

The British zeppelin
Orion
cruised at 7,300 feet, just above the cloud layer. Captain Mary Francis Montgomery loved looking out the wraparound windows and seeing only sunlight and clouds. She was pretty, in a severe manner, with long dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, but the expression of serenity on her face made her seem calm and approachable.

Zeppelins typically cruised much lower, at 650 feet, but could go as high as 24,000 feet, if needed. To avoid rough weather, it was customary to stay low and observe cloud patterns before entering them. But wartime had other demands on the great ship. Over hostile terrain, staying hidden took priority.

It was surreal to look down on a bed of clouds, she thought. Flying this high made navigation more difficult, certainly. There were no landmarks to spot, only miles and miles of white cotton clouds. But the inspiring view made it worthwhile. Besides, that’s why God invented dead reckoning navigation.

She fixed her long hair in a ponytail and ran her fingers over the navigation chart of the Eastern United States, then checked the wood and brass command dashboard and saw their course of 177 degrees held steady. Their current run of four hours on this heading at eighty miles per hour was coming to an end. With a ruler she drew a course line, then used a divider to plot their current position. Twenty-eight miles north of her target.

She’d never heard of Fort Hamilton, and after doing some quick research, she still wasn’t clear why Major Thompson ordered her to bomb the area so thoroughly. But he’d been exceedingly clear on the importance of her attack.

She’d spent time in New York City before the war and remembered the Broadway shows warmly. Dropping bombs near that city made her uncomfortable, and she had more sympathy for the Americans who fought in their Civil War. Attacking an unfamiliar enemy was hard enough, but when your adversary was familiar, even liked, it would be truly horrible. She had pushed back on the major’s order at first, until he made it clear her officer’s commission was on the line.

It hadn’t been easy, gaining the captain’s status as a woman. Years of whispered jokes and condescending smiles had begun to wear on her. But the king was more open-minded about such things than his predecessor, and made it known he wanted to see more balance in troop assignments. Within reason, of course. She knew this was as close to combat as she’d ever see. But cruising over the clouds was a damn sight better than hauling cod out of the North Atlantic, which her father had done and which she was destined for, before joining the air corps.

And so she’d accepted the orders and would carry them out. She would saturate the base with conventional warheads, then station her ship over Fort Hamilton and stand by for the order to release one of Einstein’s new radiological bombs, set for airburst. The radiation would spread for miles, rendering the area deadly to all living things. It would be months, maybe years, before the area was fit for human life again. Whatever that base contained, Major Thomas wanted it dead in a bad way.

She looked around the bridge at her young flight crew. Lieutenant Leeson was manning the rudder controls. He stood tall, both hands on the large rudder wheel. He was focused intensely on the gyro compass in front of him, occasionally flicking a glance at the twin pointers that showed the angles of the upper and lower rudders.