Leviathan

by Scott Westerfeld

  “Blisters, are you sure it’s not too hot in here?”

  Alek shrugged. “Dr. Barlow’s orders. She said the sick one needed to be kept warm.”

  Deryn looked at the cargo box. Two of the surviving eggs were nestled together at one end; the other was alone in the middle, surrounded by a pile of glowing heaters— far too many. She took a step forward to check the thermometer, then frowned. They were Dr. Barlow’s barking eggs. If she wanted to cook them, fine.

  Deryn had more important things to worry about.

  She turned to Alek. “The captain called for me today. He asked about you.”

  Alek’s face darkened. “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him anything,” she said. “I mean, I wouldn’t break my promise.”

  “Thank you, Dylan.”

  “Even though he …” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “He told me to keep an eye on you, and said I should tell him anything I find out.”

  Alek nodded slowly. “He gave you a direct order, didn’t he?”

  Deryn opened her mouth, but no words came out—something was shifting inside her. On her way here she’d hoped Alek would give her permission to tell the captain, solving the whole dilemma. But now an entirely different desire was creeping into her mind.

  What she really wanted, Deryn realized, was for Alek to know that she’d lied for him, that she would go on lying for him.

  She suddenly had that feeling again, the same as when Alek had told her his parents’ story—a crackling in the overheated air. Her skin tingled where he’d hugged her.

  This wasn’t going right at all.

  “Aye. I suppose he did.”

  Alek sighed. “A direct order. So if they find out you’ve hidden my identity, they’ll hang you as a traitor.”

  “Hang me?”

  “Yes, for consorting with the enemy.”

  Deryn frowned. In all her weighing of promises and loyalties, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well … not quite the enemy. We’re not at war with Austria, the captain says.”

  “Not yet. But from what Volger’s heard on the wireless, it’ll only be a week or so.” He smiled sadly. “Funny, all those politicians trying to decide if we’re enemies or not.”

  “Aye, barking hilarious,” Deryn murmured. She was the one standing here, not some politician. This was her decision. “I promised, Alek.”

  “But you also took an oath to the Air Service, and to King George,” he reminded her. “I’m not going to make you break that oath. You’re too good a soldier for that, Dylan.”

  She swallowed, shifting on her feet. “But what will they do to you?”

  “I’ll be locked up tight,” Alek said. “I’m too valuable to let escape into the wilds of the Ottoman Empire. And when we get back to England, they’ll put me somewhere safe until the war’s over.”

  “Blisters,” she said. “But you saved us!”

  The boy shrugged. The sadness was still in his eyes. Not brimming over into tears again, but deeper than she’d ever seen it.

  She was taking his one squick of hope away.

  “I won’t tell,” she promised again.

  “Then I’ll have to give myself up,” Alek said sadly. “The truth has to come out sooner or later. No point in you getting yourself hanged.”

  Deryn wanted to argue, but Alek wasn’t making it easy. He was right about disobeying orders in wartime. It was treason, and traitors were executed.

  “This is all Dr. Barlow’s fault,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t have found out who you were if she weren’t so nosy. She’s not telling either, but of course they’d never hang a clever-boots like her.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Alek shrugged again. “She’s not a soldier, after all. On top of which, she’s a woman.”

  Deryn’s mouth dropped open. She’d almost forgotten— the Air Service wouldn’t hang a woman, would they? Not even a common soldier. They’d boot her out, certainly, take away everything she’d ever wanted—her home on this airship, the sky itself. But they’d never execute a fifteen-year-old girl. It would be too barking embarrassing.

  She felt a smile on her face. “Don’t worry about me, Alek. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Dylan. This isn’t one of your madcap adventures. This is serious!”

  “My adventures are all barking serious!”

  “But I can’t let you take the risk,” he pleaded. “Enough people have died because of me already. I’ll go with you to the captain now and explain everything.”

  “You don’t have to,” Deryn argued, but she knew Alek wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe she was safe from hanging unless he knew the truth. Strangest of all, she almost wanted to tell him, to trade her secret for his.

  She took a step closer.

  “They won’t hang me, Alek. I’m not the soldier you think I am.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Deryn took a deep breath. “I’m not really a—”

  A sound came from the door—the jangling of keys. It opened and Dr. Barlow strode in, her eyes darkening as they fell on Deryn.

  “Mr. Sharp. What are you doing here?”

  FORTY-ONE

  Alek had never seen such a cold look on Dr. Barlow’s face. Her eyes flicked from Dylan to the eggs, as if she thought the boy had come to steal one.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Dylan muttered, swallowing whatever he’d been about to say. “I was just heading up to see Tazza.”

  Alek grabbed his arm. “Wait. Don’t go.” He turned to Dr. Barlow. “We have to tell the captain who I am.”

  “And why would we do that?”

  “He’s ordered Dylan to keep an eye on me, and to tell him everything he learns. Everything.” Alek stood up straighter, trying to summon his father’s voice of command. “We can’t ask Dylan to disobey a direct order.”

  “Don’t worry about the captain.” Dr. Barlow waved her hand. “This is my mission, not his.”

  “Aye, ma’am, but it’s not just him,” Dylan said. “The Admiralty knows we’ve got Clankers aboard, and the First Lord himself was asking about them!”

  Dr. Barlow’s face darkened again, and her voice dropped to a growl. “That man. I should have known. This crisis is all his fault, and yet he still dares to interfere with my mission!”

  Dylan tried to sputter some response to this, but failed.

  Alek frowned. “Who is this fellow?”

  “She’s speaking of Lord Churchill,” Dylan managed. “He’s the First Lord of the Admiralty. He runs the whole barking navy!”

  “Yes, and you’d think that would be enough for Winston. But now he’s gone beyond his station,” Dr. Barlow said. She took a seat beside the eggs, pulling a few of the heaters away from the sick one. “Sit down, both of you. You may as well know the whole story, as the Ottomans will find out soon enough.”

  Alek shared a look with Dylan, and they both settled onto the floor.

  “Last year,” she began, “the Ottoman Empire offered to buy a warship being built in Britain. It is among the most advanced in the world, with a companion creature strong enough to change the balance of power on the seas. And it is ready to sail.”

  She paused, peered at a thermometer, then moved a few more heaters around in the straw.

  “But the day before you and I met in Regent’s Park, Mr. Sharp, Lord Churchill decided to seize that ship for Britain. Even though it was already paid for in full.” She shook her head. “He suspected that the Ottomans might wind up on the other side in this war, and he didn’t want the Osman in enemy hands.”

  Alek frowned. “Well, that’s just plain thievery!”

  “I suppose so.” Dr. Barlow flicked a piece of straw. “More important, it was a shocking bit of diplomacy. That annoying man has made it nearly certain that the Ottomans will join the Clankers. It is our mission to prevent that from happening.”

  She patted the sick egg.

  “But what’s that got to do wit
h my secret?” Alek asked.

  Dr. Barlow sighed. “Winston and I have been at odds about the Ottomans for some time. He doesn’t appreciate that I’m trying to fix his mistakes, and he’d love to get in my way.” She looked at Alek. “Finding out that we have the son of the Archduke Ferdinand as our captive would provide him with an excuse to turn this ship around.”

  Alek set his teeth. “A captive? Our countries aren’t even at war! And may I remind you who runs the engines for this ship?”

  “That is precisely my point,” Dr. Barlow said. “Now do you see why I don’t want you and Dylan blabbing to the captain? It would cause a great deal of trouble, setting us all against one another. And we’ve been getting along so splendidly!”

  “Aye, she’s right,” Dylan said. The boy looked relieved.

  Dr. Barlow turned and adjusted the egg again. “You can leave Lord Churchill to me.”

  “But it’s not just your problem, ma’am,” Alek said. “It’s Dylan’s as well. You say you’ll protect him, but how can you promise to …” He frowned. “Who exactly are you, madam, to take on this Lord Churchill?”

  The woman rose to her full height, adjusting her bowler hat.

  “I am exactly as you see me—Nora Darwin Barlow, head keeper of the London Zoo.”

  Alek blinked. Had she said Nora Darwin Barlow? A new trickle of nerves began to grow in his stomach.

  “You m-mean,” Dylan stammered, “your grandfather … the barking beekeeper?”

  “I never said he was a beekeeper,” she laughed. “Only that he found bees inspiring. His theories wouldn’t have achieved nearly such elegance without their instructive example. So stop your worrying about Lord Winston, Mr. Sharp. He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  Dylan nodded, looking pale. “I’ll just go see to Tazza, then, ma’am.”

  “An excellent idea.” She opened the door for him. “And don’t let me catch you here again without permission.”

  The boy started to slip out the door, then cast Alek one last look. For a moment their eyes locked. Then Dylan shook his head and disappeared.

  He was probably as astonished as Alek. Dr. Barlow wasn’t just a Darwinist; she was a Darwin—the granddaughter of the man who’d fathomed the very threads of life.

  Alek felt the floor shifting beneath him, but he doubted it was the airship turning. He was standing beside the incarnation of everything he’d been taught to fear.

  And he had entrusted himself to her completely.

  Dr. Barlow turned back to the eggs. She was rearranging the heaters, stacking them near the sick egg again.

  Alek clenched his fists to keep the quaver from his voice.

  “But what about when we get to Constantinople?” he said. “Once you and your cargo are safely there, what’s to stop you from locking me up?”

  “Please, Alek. I have no intention of locking anyone up.” She reached out to ruffle his hair, which sent a shiver down his spine. “I have other plans for you.”

  She smiled as she walked to the door.

  “Trust me, Alek. And do keep a close eye on those eggs tonight.”

  As the door closed behind her, Alek turned to look at the softly glowing cargo box, wondering what was in the eggs that was so important. What sort of fabricated creature could replace a mighty warship? How could a beast no bigger than a top hat keep an empire out of this war?

  “What’s inside you?” Alek said softly.

  But the eggs just sat there, not answering at all.

  AFTERWORD

  Leviathan is a novel of alternate history, so most of its characters, creatures, and mechanisms are my own inventions. But the book’s time line is based on the actual summer of 1914, when Europe found itself lurching toward a disastrous war. So here’s a quick review of what’s true and what’s fictional in the story so far.

  On June 28, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary, and his wife, Sophie Chotek, were assassinated by young Serbian revolutionaries. In my world they survived a first pair of attacks, but were poisoned later that evening. In the real world, however, they were killed in the afternoon. (I wanted my book to start at night.) Just as in Leviathan, the assassinations led to war between Austria and Serbia, which spread to Germany and Russia, and so on. By the first week of August the globe was embroiled in the Great War—now called World War I. These two tragic deaths, and some appalling diplomacy among the great powers of Europe, resulted in millions more.

  There were rumors at the time that the Austrian government, or perhaps that of Germany, had secretly arranged the murders—either as an excuse to start a war or because Franz Ferdinand was too peace-minded. Few historians believe this conspiracy theory now, but it took decades to be disproved. Certainly the German military was determined to get a war started, and used the assassinations to do exactly that.

  Franz and Sophie had no son called Aleksandar, though. Their children were named Sophie, Maximilian, and Ernst. But just like Alek in my story, these three were forbidden to inherit Franz’s land or titles, all thanks to their mother’s less-than-royal blood. And, just as in Leviathan, their parents had implored both the Austro-Hungarian emperor and the pope to change this situation. In the real world, though, Franz and Sophie did not prevail.

  The romantic story that Alek tells about the tennis game and the pocket watch is entirely true.

  Charles Darwin really did exist, of course, and in the mid-1800s made the discoveries that are at the core of modern biology. In the world of Leviathan he also managed to discover DNA, and learned to reach into these “life threads” to create new species. In our own world the role of DNA in evolution wasn’t fully understood until the 1950s, however. We are only now fabricating new life forms, and none so grand as Deryn Sharp’s airship home.

  Nora Darwin Barlow was also a real person, a scientist in her own right. The columbine Nora Barlow flower is named after her, and she also edited many definitive editions of her grandfather’s work. But she was neither a zoo-keeper nor a diplomat.

  The Tasmanian tiger is an entirely real beast. You could have seen a thylacine much like Tazza at the London Zoo in 1914, but no longer. Despite having been the top predator of the Australian continent only a few thousand years ago, the species was hunted to extinction by humans in the early twentieth century.

  The last known Tasmanian tiger died in captivity in 1936.

  As for the Clankers’ inventions, they are somewhat ahead of their time. The first real armored fighting machines didn’t enter battle until 1916. They couldn’t walk, but used tractor treads, just as tanks do today. The world’s militaries are only now beginning to develop useful vehicles with legs instead of treads or wheels. Animals are still much better at walking over rough terrain than any machine.

  So Leviathan is as much about possible futures as alternate pasts. It looks ahead to when machines will look like living creatures, and living creatures can be fabricated like machines. And yet the setting also recalls an earlier time in which the world was divided into aristocrats and commoners, and women in most countries couldn’t join the armed forces—or even vote.

  That’s the nature of steampunk, blending future and past.

  The conflict between Winston Churchill and the Ottomans over seized warships is also based in fact. But that is best left to the second book, which follows the Leviathan to the ancient city of Constantinople, capital of the Ottoman Empire.