Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (21 page)

***

(A few minutes earlier)

Jeanne had been rusty. It had been too long since her last real battle that at the beginning of her fight against Deschanel she was at a serious disadvantage.

However, she had weathered Deschanel’s early onslaught, and her years of combat experience were now returned to her. She pressed back against her doppelganger, parrying Deschanel’s strikes and adding her own. Furthermore, Jeanne was now able to take the measure of her enemy. Deschanel was proficient with a rapier, but far from master of it. She also wore the eye patch Jeanne de Fleur was known for, which seriously hindered her fighting ability. Her determination to stick to her assigned role would be her undoing; Jeanne now held the advantage and was close to defeating her nemesis.

Until the deck beneath them came alive with a familiar humming.

They both looked down. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Jeanne said.

Deschanel’s expression told her: it was.

Instinctively, they both jumped to the deck’s railing as the entire airship flew up into the air. They then held on for dear life.

***

The force of the
Minuit Solaire II
suddenly lifting into the air nearly crushed Abdul Jabbar onto Pierre. However, as soon as the airship stabilized Pierre was able to get the other man off of him.

Pierre rose to his feet. He had experienced the rise and fall of an airship on more than one occasion, so he wasn’t nauseous like Abdul Jabbar seemed to be. The renegade Arab vomited onto the deck as Pierre picked up his broadsword.

“Don’t worry; the nausea will pass,” Pierre said.

Abdul Jabbar was hunched over. It didn’t appear as if he was entirely conscious of where he was. “When?”

Pierre brought his sword down upon the man’s neck, severing his head from his body. “Now.”

Suddenly the deck tilted as the airship lurched sideways. Pierre lost his balance and fell into the bulkhead, which now seemed to be the floor.
What on earth is happening on the bridge?
He wondered.

***

Once the
Minuit Solaire II
stabilized, Celeste’s distorted voice came through the speaking tube which hung from the ceiling above the captain’s chair. “
This is Engineering. Why has the Emergency Ascension System been activated?
”

Emil grabbed the tube. “It was an accident, Engineering. Disregard it.”

“
But—”

“No buts! Whatever happens up here, ignore—”

He was cut off by a flying kick from Farahilde which sent him headfirst into the wall beside the bridge’s entrance. It was appropriate payback, she thought.

She took the speaking tube. “Listen to me, engineer. You’ve got to keep this airship steady.”

“
Farahilde Johanna?
” Celeste’s said, surprised.

“That’s right. Look—‘Milady’ is fighting on the top deck. Keep us steady or she might fall off.”

“
Oh, no! That’s going to be a problem.
”

“What do you mean?”

“
The Emergency Ascension System was implemented by your people, correct
?”

“Yes.”

“
Well…I don’t want to be rude, but…they didn’t do a very good job of it
.”

“Get to the point!”

“
All the voltage that just got dumped into the engines is overloading the circuits. There’s no telling what will happen. We’ve got to land immediately!”

As if on cue, an explosion rocked the bridge. The airship began spinning wildly. Farahilde gripped the captain’s chair to maintain some semblance of balance. “What was that?”

“
We just lost an engine!”

Farahilde turned to Frederick, who—along with Jean-Louis—was holding on to the operator’s console. “I take back what I said about missing airships,” she said.

***

Jeanne and Deschanel clung to the railing on the port side of the top deck, swinging their rapiers at each other as the
Minuit Solaire II
spun around and around in the skies above Washington.

Jeanne would have been content to hang on with both hands, but her enemy was intent on continuing her homicidal grudge to the point of insanity. Jeanne wanted to yell at her, to tell her to stop this madness, but she couldn’t be heard over the roar of the wind and the airship’s engines. All she could do was hold on and exchange futile attacks with her nemesis (neither of them could swing with much force or accuracy under these conditions, and rapiers weren’t made for swinging anyway).

Jeanne soon gave up trying to hit Deschanel and sheathed her blade. The other woman was obviously never going to land a serious hit on her.  Jeanne now gripped the railing with both hands and held on as tight as she could.

She awaited the day when airship technology would be perfected. Frankly, she was beginning to lose track of all the times she had nearly been killed in an airship crash.

She looked up—or was it down?—and saw the ground coming closer to meet them. They were going to crash—surprise, surprise—and quickly.

But before they did, the airship slowed its spin (Celeste must have regained some control over the blasted thing) and the vessel glanced off the side of a building rather than smashing through as it was going to do.

The port side of the
Minuit Solaire II
hit the ground and came skidding to a stop in the middle of a town square. Deschanel fell off the railing and landed hard on the cement earth. She would probably be all right, Jeanne thought; her armor would most likely protect her from the worst of it.

Jeanne carefully climbed down from the fallen airship and made her way to where Deschanel lay. Jeanne removed her rapier, and when the other woman began to stir, she pointed the sword at her head.

Deschanel looked up at her, and after a moment, said, “Finish it.”

“You sound like Robespierre,” Jeanne replied.

“You have to kill your enemies,” Deschanel said, her voice breaking. “You have to kill them.” To Jeanne’s surprise, she began sobbing uncontrollably.

Jeanne felt pity for her defeated foe. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Because…” Deschanel started to say, but she was having trouble fighting back the lump in her throat. “Because you did what I couldn’t: You defied fate! You overcame every obstacle and managed to live your own life.”

Jeanne pondered her imposter’s situation momentarily. “I think I understand now.”

“I’ve always been a killer. I was born to destroy. I wasn’t strong enough to take my life into my own hands. In the end, I’m nothing more than poor caricature of you.”

Jeanne shook her head. “It’s not too late.”

“What?”

 “You have a lot more strength than you give yourself credit for. It’s just been…misdirected.”

Deschanel wasn’t so easily convinced. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Jeanne de Fleur. I’m not strong. I’m weak. I transferred my hatred for myself to you.”

“I don’t know what happened that made you the way you are,” Jeanne said. “But it’s time to stop being ruled by the past.”

Jeanne held out her hand. Deschanel looked away, ashamed. However, Jeanne insisted, and the other woman eventually took her hand and was helped to her feet.

“I will return the stones,” Deschanel said.

A contingent of soldiers came running over and pointed their rifles at Jeanne and Deschanel. Within moments, George Washington arrived. “Quite a mess you all have made,” he noted.

“I surrender,” Deschanel said. “I, Gabrielle Deschanel, admit my I stole your stones, murdered your man and framed the Austrian contingent for the crimes.”

Washington looked relieved, yet saddened. “I appreciate your honesty, yet it does not bring back the life you took. Had you just taken the stones, I would simply send you back to France. But you have committed a grave crime, and you must be punished according to American law.”

Deschanel nodded grimly. “I understand. It is what I deserve. I ask, however, that my subordinates be allowed to return home. They had no part in this.”

“I find that hard to believe, but as you are responsible for them, you bear the most guilt. Your men may return to France, but you must stand trial here.”

Jeanne was satisfied with this, but she had a question of her own. “What about me?” she asked Washington. “I lied to you, committed assault and resisted arrest.”

Washington said, “I’ll admit I was wounded by that. But I now know you had sufficient cause.” He smiled, a rare occurrence considering his uncomfortable wooden dentures. “I believe I shall exercise my presidential authority to pardon you.”

“I do not deserve such kindness, Mr. President.”

“I disagree, Miss Rose.”

She shook her head. “You know that’s not my real name.”

“To me, it always will be. I would like you to continue being Mary Rose.”

Jeanne was taken aback. “Are you sure about that?”

“Very much so.”

***

They thought it was over. They couldn’t have been more wrong. The theft of the stones was an unexpected wrinkle in the plan, but now things would be getting back on course.
And when all the stones are put in place, my mission will be complete. I can’t wait to see the look on Washington’s face when he finds out the truth.

Chapter XV: Into the Fire

The President’s Palace, Washington, December 13, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 11:12 a.m.

Farahilde finally stirred from her deep slumber. After a particularly hard night, she had eventually managed to go to bed around 3:00 a.m. Leopold was released from confinement, and tomorrow they were planning to return to Austria.

There was a knock at her door. She got up to answer it. Leopold stood there, looking embarrassed.

“What is it?” she asked. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her clothes since last night.

He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Well…that is…” He forced himself to look her in the eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t say this: Thank you for fighting to clear our names. This isn’t easy to admit, but you have made me proud.”

It wasn’t exactly an apology for the things he had said to her, but considering his pride, it was still a hell of a lot more than she had ever expected from him. “You are welcome, Leo. But I didn’t do it for
you
.”

“No, of course not,” he conceded. “However, the fact remains that you have saved us all, and the French commander will receive a suitable punishment for her crimes.”

Farahilde, Frederick and Pierre had caught up with Jeanne and George Washington after awkwardly climbing out of the
Minuit Solaire II
. Jeanne relayed the story of what had happened with the imposter woman; how she had admitted her guilt and surrendered to Washington and his troops. Deschanel’s two subordinates were not to be charged with any crimes, but neither could they return to the President’s Palace. For the time being, they would have to either remain in the downed airship or find lodging within the city.