Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (7 page)

Even if he
was
one of them, it wouldn’t have stopped her from doing what she did next: Stomping on his head and sending him falling down the stairs. She followed him down to the bottom of the stairs where she knew the entrance to the bridge was.

And where that woman was waiting for her with her rapier drawn. Farahilde had no time to defend herself before the French woman’s blade found her chest. “It would seem the stories about you are true, Farahilde Johanna. You really are insane. Now, please surrender before I am forced to kill you.”

The armored man she had kicked down the stairs rose up and grabbed Farahilde’s arm, and another knight appeared behind her and took hold of the other one. He was another member of the Ordre she didn’t recognize.

She was now their prisoner.
Oh, if only Leo could see me now.

***

They tossed Farahilde in the brig, promising to deal with her later. In truth, it was really just a cell with a door made out of iron bars. She already knew this, of course; she had been involved in the design of this model of airship.

One thing was new, however. On the wall of the cell, opposite the door, was a series of yellow words in French that seemed to have been burned into the bulkhead with some sort of acid:

Hello, Hello

My new friend

You’ve been taken prisoner

This may be the end

But take heart

I escaped and so can you

Can you figure out how?

Can you figure out what to do?

The Ordre thought they had me

They thought they were so smart

But it was all for naught

I disappeared, leaving only my fart

This had to be the most juvenile message she had ever read. Whoever had written it must have been pretty cocky, since they declared their escape before they had even achieved it. Then again, maybe it was that vagina-hating comedian’s idea of poetry. She wasn’t sure if that idiot—whose name was Victor, if she remembered correctly—would actually do such an infantile thing, but after her experiences with him, she wasn’t prepared to put it past him.

She shook her head. There were far more important things to think about. Like getting out of here. She turned to look at the bars on the door. For the first time, she was grateful the people who designed Austria’s airship fleet had ignored her suggestions for improved security in the brig.

She moved her hands along the bars, rapping on them as she went. Assuming the French worms hadn’t changed anything, there should have been a particular spot on the bar connecting the lock where, with the application of the right pressure, it would be possible to open the door.

She found the spot and hit if with her forearm. Nothing; the door remained closed. Maybe she had applied to much pressure—or not enough.

She hit it more lightly the second time. Still nothing happened. As a result, she got frustrated and hit it with her full strength.

The door opened. She looked into the corridor, and, confirming it was empty, left the brig, nursing her sore arm as she went. She walked past several other doors, each listing the titles of the personnel that occupied those quarters. There were titles such as
Engineer Grade 1, Operators
, etc.

However, she soon came to a door that caught her interest. It was labeled
Head Engineer
. Finding it carelessly unlocked, she cautiously poked her head inside. There was no one in the room, so she went in, shutting the door behind her.

 Sunlight filtered in through the window, illuminating the room in its glow. She looked around the cabin, seeing if she could confirm the identity of its occupant. There was a table covered with what looked like engineering schematics and other mathematical formulas. On the dresser next to the bed was another paper detailing the inner workings of the airship’s electric engine.

Farahilde looked through the dresser itself. It was filled with female garments, but that didn’t do enough to narrow it down. The only conclusion she could come to was the rather obvious one that the
Minuit Solaire II
’s head engineer was still a woman. But was it
that
woman?

A muffled voice coming from the corridor hinted at the possibility that Farahilde was about to get her answer. Whoever it was seemed to be talking to someone. A female voice said “Goodbye” and she ran to get behind the door before it opened.

She didn’t have to wait long. Within moments the door opened and a short figure entered the room. It was a young woman with short brown hair and glasses, wearing dirty overalls.
Finally—a familiar face
.

Farahilde grabbed her from behind and put one arm around her throat, the other one grabbing the top of her head. “If you cry out, I will snap your neck. Do you understand?”

The girl moved her head in slow, measured nods. Farahilde let her go but remained standing within a few inches of her. “It really is you,” the girl said in French. “I heard we had captured Farahilde Johanna, but I couldn’t believe it.”

“
Captured
,” Farahilde said. “Past tense. As you can see, I’m no one’s prisoner for long.”

The girl looked at her, astonished. “What are you doing here?”

“You mean, besides being dragged against my will to America? Looking for someone who can give me answers. You were the head engineer when we fought to stop Robespierre. Your name is Celeste, right?”

She nodded again and said, “That’s right.”

“All right; good. First question: Who is that woman on the bridge? Because she damn sure isn’t Jeanne de Fleur. She doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s a bit…complicated,” Celeste said. “After milady defeated Robespierre, she left the Ordre. We used to answer to the king, but now we have an emperor, and she refused to serve Napoleon Bonaparte. Because he betrayed her brother.”

“Yes, I remember her saying he turned against her brother when Robespierre took over your government.”

 “That’s right. So of course she would never follow such a man. She left the Ordre, along with Pierre—he was the vice-commander, if you’ll recall—and Victor. Milady and Pierre went to live in his home village of Pierret. I don’t know what happened to Victor.”

“That still doesn’t explain why there is an imposter leading you now,” Farahilde said.

“Well, you see, whether she had intended it or not, Jeanne de Fleur had become a symbol for the people of France to follow. The Emperor was determined to use that symbol for his own ends, and vowed to force her to serve him if necessary. She still refused, though, so he sent troops to Pierret to capture either her or Pierre. He thought if he could at least acquire Pierre as a hostage, she would have to obey him.”

“What a cowardly tactic!” Farahilde exclaimed. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

Celeste continued, “They managed to fight their way out of the village, but I heard there were innocent townspeople killed in the battle. Milady and Pierre were last seen heading west across France.”

“So you don’t know where they went?”

Celeste shook her head. “I wish I did. I stayed on this airship in the hopes that I would one day see her again—maybe I could help her when that happens—but so far we haven’t found a trace of either of them.”

Sighing, Farahilde said, “All right. But you still haven’t told me who that bitch is on your bridge.”

“I don’t know much. She is someone the Emperor handpicked from the French Army to lead us. He probably chose her for her resemblance to milady. As I already stated, Jeanne de Fleur had become a powerful symbol for the people of France, and he was determined to make use of it.”

“Even if that means parading some woman around in her place?”

Celeste lowered her voice to almost a whisper and said, “He will accomplish his goals by any means necessary.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, I believe it.”

“At any rate, we are under orders to always address her as either Commander or Jeanne de Fleur. However, last month when we were in Paris I overheard one officer—whom I think knew her in her previous life based on his familiar tone—call her ‘Deschanel’. He was severely punished for that.”

Farahilde pondered this for a moment. The name wasn’t at all familiar to her. “Deschanel, huh? Well, just as long as I don’t have to call her Jeanne de Fleur. Thanks. But why are you so willing to tell me all this? I figured I’d have to at least  torture you a little.”

Celeste gave her a bashful smile. “Well, it’s because…you were milady’s friend. She trusted you with her life. And if she could trust you, so can I.”

Surely she hadn’t heard that right. “She…considered me a friend? After what I put her through?”

“I think…I think she came to understand your heart, and your reasons for doing what you did. You were both victims of the French government, so she could sympathize with you.”

Suddenly there was an abrupt rumbling. “What’s going on?” Farahilde asked.

Celeste gave her a look that suggested it was a stupid question she had just asked. “We’re moving.”

“But I slashed the balloon! This airship shouldn’t be able to fly.”

“Oh,” Celeste said, as if she suddenly understood Farahilde’s confusion. “You probably think the
Minuit Solaire II
is still vulnerable to water. In actuality, we worked to insulate it, and now it can travel through the sea like a traditional ship.”

For the second time that day, Farahilde felt like a
dummkopf
. The airship had landed in the water next to the
Hapsburg Pride
! Of course it had to be insulated. Taking out their balloon might slow them down, but it wouldn’t necessarily stop them. “This is not
meine
day,” she said, slipping back into German.

“You’d better get off this ship quickly,” Celeste cautioned. “Unless you want to come with us to America.”

“I’m going there anyway. But I’ll be damned if I’m going with you worms.” The young engineer looked a bit slighted at the insult. “Present company excluded.”

Celeste laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Miss Farahilde.”

Farahilde walked over to the window. After determining that it was large enough for her to fit through, she opened it and jumped out into the sea. She hit the cold water and, although it didn’t feel good, she was grateful to be out of there.

Chapter VI: Land of the Free?

The Istanbul Strait, November 11, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 2:00 p.m.

In the wake of the
Minuit Solaire II
’s departure, the crew of the
Hapsburg Pride
fished Farahilde out of the water of the Istanbul Strait. Leopold had a lot he wanted to yell at her about, but that had to wait, as she really needed to change clothes and dry off. Frederick expressed his relief that she was all right.

“Of course I’m all right,” she said as she walked across the deck. “As if a little water could kill me.” She was a little annoyed the Ordre had taken her bladed gauntlet, but no matter; she had more of those below deck. Plus, the satisfaction of escaping their clutches more than made up for the loss. They were probably cursing their own stupidity right now.