by Guy Worthey
Sam and Bert obediently scrambled up and through the hatch. “Why us?” Bert asked Sam as they lurched along the catwalk toward the rear.
“We have escaped the bullets, sahib,” Sam said.
“Yeah. So far,” Bert replied.
The giant airship soared in stately grace at first, then with ever-increasing verve.
The gondola window made a “tink!” sound and a bullet hole appeared in the glass.
“Rifle shot!” Gooper assessed worriedly. There was another ping. Then it sounded like a hailstorm as the gondola deflected a veritable stream of bullets.
Everyone ducked down.
The radio chose that moment to crackle to life. A voice demanded something incomprehensible due to static.
“A two-way voice radio!” Tombstone said, impressed. “That’s first class!”
Ace said, “I’m starting to think they’re onto us. At least we’re rising quickly now.”
Ace gunned all eight engines. Too much. The airship yawed drunkenly. Back along the catwalks, Sam and Bert clung to supports as they tried to walk. Ace continued to experiment with the controls, and the radio continued to chew them out in German.
“Them rifle shots are gettin’ wilder. Mebbe we’re a smaller target now,” Tombstone said.
Brilliant light washed into the gondola, bright as day. Every fixture, every bruise, and every smear of blood leapt into stark realism. Quack frowned at the light, then blinked down at a growing puddle of red centered on himself.
“Wot’s that?” Gooper said.
“Searchlights!” Ace gritted through clenched teeth.
Tombstone said, “Durn. That’s a complication.”
An explosive boom rocked the air.
“Artillery! Aimed at us!” Quack gasped.
The rattatata of machine gun fire and the moan of a banking airplane added to the cacophony.
“We’ve been ’it!” Gooper bellowed.
Chapter 1 9
Ace adjusted the controls. “Don’t panic. A few strafing runs won’t hurt us.”
She was somewhat correct. The lifting gas in the bags was not under pressure. A punctured bag might or might not lose lift, depending on where the hole was located. And there were many bags.
Without warning, a giant hand slapped the tail of the dirigible to the left. The rudder control under Ace’s hand jerked stingingly. She fought to steady it. The Allied pirates grabbed at supports to keep themselves from falling. Splintering and ripping sounds and another boom throbbed in their ears.
“Cannon hit!” Tombstone yelled.
“Feels like it put a hole in the rudder,” Ace said. Gradually, she mastered the buffeting.
Another fighter strafed them! Dangerous sounding splinters and whiplike whisk noises raised the hackles on everyone’s necks. Two gondola windows cracked into a spiderweb of fractures. Those in the cabin could see the ghostly shape of the aircraft and orange sparks from its engine exhaust.
“Ow! Nicked again,” said Gooper. He clapped a hand to the crook between shoulder and head where most people have necks.
There was answering fire from Sam or Bert, back in the rear gondola. The vibrations thrummed through the floor. Every fifth round was a tracer bullet that left a glowing trail through the sky.
Ace had the hang of the throttles now. She zig-zagged the ponderous craft as best she could. In general, she headed away from Verviers and its lights. “Darkness and altitude are our friends. The warplanes can only get so high.”
Quack said faintly, “We walk on sky trails.”
Tombstone said, “Tarnation, Quack! Mebbe he’s delirious.”
Ace glanced back. “Bandage his leg, Tombstone. Tightly. Stop the bleeding.”
Distantly, those in the cabin heard a lusty “Yaaaaah!” from Bert and then a steady vibration of machine gun fire. The machine gun fire doubled up. Both Sam and Bert were at it. The steady drone of a fighter engine hiccupped. Ace saw a flame off to her left, level at first, but starting to spiral down and away.
Ace said, “The gunners got one! We’re rising fast now. Pretend you’re chewing gum. It will equalize the pressure in your eardrums as we rise.”
Another shock and a bang rattled the Allies. An artillery shell atomized a part of the outer skin only yards in front of the gondola windows. One of them shattered. Ace ducked her head under an arm, feeling dozens of glass shards slice fabric and skin. The shards sprayed all over inside the gondola in a blast of frigid air.
“Nicked us good there,” Tombstone observed.
“Hang on, cowboy! Oi’ve got yer back,” Gooper said.
“You okay, Ace?” Tombstone asked.
“I’m starting to get irritated,” said Ace. Pulling out shards of glass would have to wait.
Another plane buzzed by and there was an exchange of machine gun fire. The dirigible jerked and started drifting to the left. The low music of the engines changed tones. That plane, too, caught fire and trailed away from the airship, losing altitude.
Ace’s fingers danced, trimming throttles. “We’ve lost engine six!”
The searchlights still shone brightly on the airship, but there was a change. With blinding swiftness, bright fog engulfed the dirigible. Visibility shrank to inches. The surrounding radiance dimmed. As they rose through the cloud, the ambient light faded to inky black.
They broke through the top of the cloud and entered a new world. Stars twinkled above. Far below, fingerlike searchlight beams swept and groped fruitlessly. The searchlights flashed on buzzing fighter planes and scattered cottony clouds. Artillery boomed, faint and impotent.
The comparative quiet stretched.
Ace scanned out the windows. “We’re too high for planes. The searchlights lost us.”
Gooper said, “I’m blind! Tombstone, where are yeh?”
For a full minute, the icy high air swirled in the gondola and the engines hummed. Their eyes adjusted to the dim illumination of the stars.
Ace said, “Looks all clear. Gooper, how badly are you hurt? Can you get Sam and Bert?”
Gooper turned from wrapping a bandage around Tombstone’s bleeding head. “Ow, I’m fine. A few flesh wounds. I’ll run an’ get th’ trigger ’appy cretins.” He tied off Tombstone’s bandage and heaved up the ladder.
Quack lay propped up on an unconscious Ottoman. His eyes drifted, unfocused. He smiled gently. “I have walked under the dancing sky.”
Tombstone told Quack softly, “You’ll be all right, Quack. By gum, Ah owe you my life. I’d’ve been shot through the head if you hadn’t tackled that polecat when ya did.” Tombstone looked at Ace. “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
“He’ll pull through. If you can find some water, get some down him.”
Sam, Bert, and Gooper rejoined them in the cabin. Ace eased back on the lift, set the compass heading to northwest, and pegged the engine throttles to cruising speed.
She turned around and surveyed the battered crew, Ottoman bodies, and demolished surroundings. Her lips curved in a satisfied smile. “Tell you what, fellas. You look awful.”
“Feel great, though,” Bert said.
“Will you tattoo me, so that I may walk the Sky Road?” Quack mumbled.
Ace said, “London has good hospitals. We’ll land there. We’ll tune this fancy radio to a friendly frequency and tell them we’re coming. This bird has the fuel to get us there, if I’m reading the dials right.”
Chapter 2 0
A silent fleet of official RAF cars perturbed midmorning traffic around Piccadilly Circus. The black cars glided into a roadblock formation. Pedestrians looked on with curiosity at the sudden military activity.
Then they looked up.
The huge oval shadow angled down in stately grace.
The Ottoman insignia on the side made many double-take and gasp.
The dirigible made a gentle landing in front of the Criterion Theater, its punctured tail pointing down Piccadilly Street. Its engines feathered to stillness, one by one, and there was a sig
hing, gentle hiss of released lifting gas. Soon it was surrounded by a loose circle of curious Londoners and an orderly phalanx of RAF brass.
An ambulance stood by, with medics and a stretcher. A paddy wagon was there too, with military police ready to take prisoners.
Ace looked out the gondola windows. She seemed reluctant to leave the bullet-riddled dirigible.
“Don’t tell me yer losin’ yer intestinal fortitude now, Ace!” Gooper said.
Ace said, “I don’t want attention.”
Sam said quietly, “I understand, Lady Ace. I am sorry. I fear you will attract attention, regardless.”
“Rats. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be sent home.” A captured Ottoman on the floor stirred. Ace gazed at him. She spoke from the heart. “I wanted to help the war end. People killing people isn’t right.”
“You have helped, Lady Ace,” Sam said.
Bert said, “The war will end, probably sooner now than before. What a caper you just pulled, Ace!”
“Not I alone. Teamwork got us here.”
“Cheer up, Ace!” Gooper said, giving her a slap on the shoulder.
“Ow. Glass cuts,” Ace replied. But she winked, then laughed and slapped Gooper’s shoulder in return. Gooper grinned.
They all looked out the window to watch the growing crowd, even Quack. The blond man had become more lucid after drinking some water Bert had found in the emergency kit. Now he leaned heavily on Bert. Quack said, “I see photographers! I’d like to see the Emperor’s face when he reads tomorrow’s papers!”
“Ugh. Photographers?” Ace said.
“Ace. You don’t have to talk to any reporters,” Bert advised.
Tombstone said, “We been pole-vaulting. That moment when you’re weightless at the top o’ th’ arc is amazin’, but you can’t stay that high for long. Now it’s time to hit th’ dirt again.”
Sam agreed. “We have flown like eagles. Someday, we will fly together again. Yes?”
Ace laughed lightly. “Sounds good! Keep a channel clear of static for me, fellas!”
Flinging the door open, Ace led the way.
The crowd began cheering.
NOTES ON THE GREAT WAR
The fictional setting of ACE CARROWAY AND THE GREAT WAR draws from real history even though I swap an Ottoman Emperor for a German Kaiser. German Zeppelin airships really were used as long-range bombers that dropped bombs on Paris and London starting in 1915.
As World War I commenced, airplanes were used only for observation. Some unknown pilot decided to toss a grenade at a passing enemy plane, and soon pilots were taking revolvers, grenades, and rifles aloft to do (mostly ineffectual) battle. In 1915, British pilot Vessy Holt fired his revolver at a passing German observation plane and forced it to land in Allied territory; the first aerial battle with a winner and a loser.
The same year, French pilot Roland Garros mounted a machine gun on his plane. In order to keep his propeller undisintegrated, he wrapped metal strips around it. Bullets from the machine gun would ricochet from the metal bands, sometimes in distinctly unintended directions! But most bullets would get through, and Garros quickly shot down five German planes.
The French began calling him “the ace of all pilots,” and it soon became tradition to attach the name “ace” to all pilots that shot down five enemies.
In our world, female pilots did not fly combat missions until World War II, so Ace is a little ahead of her time.
What a silly sentence! Of course Ace is ahead of her time!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wyoming native Guy Worthey traded spurs and lassos for telescopes and computers when he decided on astrophysics for a day job. Whenever he temporarily escapes the gravitational pull of stars and galaxies, he writes fiction. He lives in Washington state with his violinist wife Diane.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Deep thanks to critical readers in the Palouse Writers Guild and SCBWI Palouse Writers. Thanks to Dr. McCluskey at Washington State University and Dr. Silva at the National Optical Astronomy Observatories for support at key moments in the creative process. Cheeky nods and winks to quirky NaNoWriMo. Humble thanks and appreciation to my family, especially Diane.
Coming soon:
ACE CARROWAY AROUND THE WORLD
guyworthey.net
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[1] Biplanes built by the Société Pour L'Aviation et ses Dérivés (S.P.A.D.).
[2] The “Ghost Squadron” was known formally as the Royal Air Force Guest Squadron, composed of pilots and planes orphaned from other Allied military air forces, including the American Expeditionary.
[3] Royal Air Force
[4] Airplane factory.
[5] Falcon.
[6] Quiet!
[7] The woman.
[8] Bloody hell!
[9] Italian is gender sensitive. “Bravo” is male, “Brava” is female.
[10] What the hell?
[11] The thunderbirds of the Lakota People.
[12] Come here, friend! Saboteurs! I have killed them!
[13] Where are you?
