by Ashton, Hugh
“What are you doing?” asked Petrov.
“I want to see how this thing looks from the ground as it goes across the trenches.”
“I’ll come with you. But I want to make sure that we get picked up again.” He shouted an explanation and instructions to Lebedenko. Brian led the way out of the hatch and down the walkway to the trailing wheels.
“We make a mess of the ground,” commented Brian, pointing to the deep ruts left in the mud. “How much does this thing weigh?”
“It’s too heavy to travel very far under its own power, I fear,” Petrov answered. “Lebedenko has been instructed to design it to be disassembled and transported in sections, and reassembled close to where it will be used.”
“The wheels are going to be a problem, though. They’re nearly nine metres tall, and that’s going to cause a lot of problems when you try to move them. They’re not going to fit into any railway tunnel that I can think of, or even go under most bridges.”
“He says he has a way to take even those giant wheels to pieces and put them back together again, but I am not sure if he’s put those ideas into practice on this prototype. Let’s get him moving, anyway.” He looked up at the observation port where the steersman was located, and waved. An answering hand waved out of the port, the engines roared, and the giant machine shuddered into motion, trailing black smoke from the engine pods at each side.
“Well,” said Brian, laughing, “there’s no way that you’re going to be able to mount any kind of surprise attack with a squadron of these things.”
“That’s true,” said Petrov. “What with the noise and the smoke—”
“Not to mention the size of the bloody thing. It seems even bigger than when we saw it on the road.”
“On the other hand, just think of the speed,” Petrov pointed out.
The Netopyr’s engines changed note, and the massive vehicle moved forward, turning in a wide semicircle.
“Is that the tightest turn it can make?” asked Brian.
“I think so. The trailing rear wheels don’t make it very easy to turn in a tight circle, I think. But don’t forget that the turret can turn fast to engage any enemy.”
“I was thinking of escaping enemy artillery fire. It seems to me that those wheels might be quite vulnerable to high explosive.”
“Hmm.” Petrov considered this. “You may be right, but let’s watch it cross a trench.”
The gigantic wheels crunched across the barbed wire entanglements in front of the trench as though they did not exist.
“If the wheels were wider, they’d clear more wire for any supporting infantry and the weight would be better distributed,” remarked Brian. “But then again, the whole thing would be heavier. I suppose there have to be some compromises.”
The massive wheels dipped into the trench, but because of their great diameter, hardly sank into the trench at all, and, engines straining, the Netopyr hauled itself out over the parapet on the other side. The rear trail wheels then entered the trench, and were left rotating uselessly in mid-air as the engines screamed and the giant drive wheels strained to pull the whole machine forward.
“This never happened when we crossed the trench just a little while ago,” said Petrov. “I’m sure we would have heard the engines making that sort of noise.”
“Maybe the rear wheels rolled onto a firestep or something last time,” said Brian. “Right now, they’re resting on nothing, and the engines are just dragging the trail along the ground until the rear wheels can touch solid earth again.”
With a final bellow, the Netopyr pulled itself out of the trench and continued lumbering on its way.
“Wait for us!” Brian shouted, but Petrov had already pulled out a Very pistol and fired a red flare ahead of the Netopyr, which lurched to a stop. “Good thinking, sir,” said Brian, as they walked to the rear and started climbing up to the turret.
Just before they entered the small hatchway, Brian caught at Petrov’s sleeve. “Sorry, sir, but do you see something?”
“Where?”
“I don’t see anything now, but I could have sworn that I saw a man there, at the edge of that undergrowth. I can’t see anything now.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Infantryman's uniform, as far as I could tell. Do you think it’s our friend Kolinski?”
“Who else could it be? This area’s fenced off, and the guards are all accounted for. I think we’d better get back as quickly as possible. Let’s see how fast Lebedenko can make this thing go.”
-oOo-
Kolinski watched the massive machine sputter away in a cloud of exhaust fumes, moving at a pace he had no hope of matching. He had seriously considered rushing the two men whom he had seen outside the Netopyr, but he realised that there would be other men inside, and he had no idea of the interior, or how many men would be crewing the monster, or how they would be armed. He would have to get more information from his contact.
At least he’d found the beast in this massive testing area, thanks to an immense stroke of luck. The soldier whose uniform he was wearing had been carrying a map of the testing ground in his pocket. Once Kolinski had identified his location from a unique configuration of railway points and the confluence of two streams, it had been easy to find his way to the main machine shop, where he had stood out of sight as he watched the enormous machine. The size had awed him, and he realised that regardless of how well or badly it actually worked, just the sheer bulk and power of a Netopyr would intimidate the other side in a battle. He watched as four men, two in unfamiliar uniforms, and one in civilian clothes, approached the machine and stood around talking before walking up the tail of the Netopyr to enter the main cabin. After a short while, the engines started, emitting clouds of black smoke as they roared into life, and then, with a lurch, the Netopyr moved in the direction of the proving grounds.
When it had lumbered off and was almost out of sight, he had tried to follow it, but it had quickly outpaced him. Truly an impressive machine, he told himself, panting along the trail, trying to keep up. The noise and the dark smoke pouring from the Netopyr’s exhausts made it easy to keep track, even when the vast machine disappeared from sight behind a ridge. Without warning, the noise of the engines stopped, and the smoke slowly dissipated in the breeze. Cautiously, Kolinski made his way forward towards where he had last seen the Netopyr. Peering over the hillock, he saw the stationary monster. A mechanical failure of some kind, perhaps. As he watched, with load bangs and puffs of smoke, first one, then the other, engine fired up once more, and the Netopyr lurched off.
By following its tracks and taking advantage of the path created by its enormous wheels crushing the bushes, he was able to follow the machine through the undergrowth lying immediately in front of the trench system. He ducked into the forest beside the clearing and watched as the Netopyr successfully crossed a trench, and then stopped.
Two men got out and descended to the ground, watching the machine go across the trench, this time with a little more difficulty. It was very hard to tell, but one of the men looked somewhat familiar, though Kolinski was unable to put a name to the figure. He racked his brains trying to remember where he had seen him before, but failed. After re-crossing the trench, the Netopyr stopped again, and the two men went up the gangway into the cabin. Again that nagging feeling that he knew one of them, but he was still unable to place the man.
As the great machine started back along the way it had come, Kolinski knew that he would have to talk to the engineer who was his contact within the project, to find out more about the machine, and explore the possibility of taking control of the Netopyr for the Party, or else destroying it so that the Tsarists were unable to use it against the Revolution. He had noticed that there were no guns mounted in the turrets, so there was no hope of his walking off with a working war machine, however impressive the monster might appear.
The way back seemed easier, and the Netopyr’s tracks were easy to follow, but they led him towards the area
where the machines were stored and repaired, and the soldiers’ barracks – an area he wished to avoid for the time being. The fact that dogs had been set to follow his trail the other day was a sure sign that his presence in the compound was known, and that there would be more attempts to find him and flush him out in the near future. As if his mind was being read, he could hear the sound of what sounded like a search party in the distance, similar to the sounds he had heard previously. The dogs sounded closer than was comfortable.
Yesterday he had gone into a stream and waded along it, in an attempt to shake the dogs off his trail, but today there was no stream nearby that he could see. Nor, he felt, would climbing a tree work again for him – he could only pull that sort of trick once or twice. The only thing to do was to bluff it out and hide where they would least expect to find him. He ran, panting heavily, towards the machine shops, where there was a chance to blend in with the other men who were working there. At least there he wouldn’t be a lone soldier in the middle of a field. The searchers appeared to be coming from the opposite direction, and he gave thanks for that small mercy.
At last he could see the sheds where the experimental vehicles and motors were housed. The sound of the approaching soldiers sounded closer than before, and he hurried, now gasping, towards the largest and tallest of the sheds, guessing it was the one containing the Netopyr. A group of men was leaving the shed through a small door, the main doors through which the Netopyr had presumably entered having been closed. As the last man left, closing the door behind him, Kolinski waited as long as he dared before seizing the door handle, darting through the door and closing it behind him. He desperately looked around him for crates and oil drums to block the door and shut out his pursuers.
The exertion of creating the barricade, following his frantic run, left him exhausted. Obviously he was not fully recovered from the time he had spent in the sea, and the activities of the last few days hadn’t helped, either. It occurred to him as well that not having eaten for over 24 hours was doing nothing for his stamina. He sank to his knees and almost collapsed onto the hard-packed earth floor of the shed. To his horror, he realised that the shed, which he had assumed was empty, actually contained another occupant, who was coming towards him. He felt for his bayonet, having left the rifle concealed in the forest before he had started out to track the Netopyr, and realised that it must have fallen out from his clothing while he was running. He was defenceless, and he had little strength left in him to fight.
-oOo-
The other came closer, and bent over him. Kolinski could see he was not in uniform, but that meant nothing. Anyone here was a government agent, and was there to enforce the Tsarist will over the people. Suddenly the other stood up straight.
“Greetings, Comrade,” he heard, to his amazement. “Welcome. You seem more than a little tired.”
Kolinski realised that the other must have recognised him as a member of the Oupinski gang from the star tattoo on his neck, but although many of the gang had allied themselves to Ulyanov and his party, membership of the gang by no means implied automatic membership of the Party. In fact, he fully expected to be turned in for the sake of the reward that he expected had been offered for his capture.
He looked up to see if the welcome had been meant ironically – it was hard to tell from the tone of voice – and saw nothing but concern on the other’s face.
“Who are you, to call me ‘Comrade’?” he growled.
“I know who you are, Kolinski,” replied the other. “Even if I hadn’t received a message from Zurich letting me know you were coming, you were the subject of conversation earlier today. You’re a popular man.”
“I know,” said Kolinski, his brain racing. “There’s a search party after me right now.”
“So my suggestion is that you hide behind these here,” indicating a pile of boxes, “and I’ll talk to the soldiers when they arrive. Go on, hurry.”
Kolinski was in no state to protest, and moved quickly to the spot indicated. The other was halfway through dismantling the barricade that Kolinski had set up by the door when a furious knocking on the door started up.
“Wait a moment,” he called out. “Some idiot left some boxes piled up here, and I’m just trying to get them out of the way. There,” he grunted, as he opened the door. “Now, what can I do for you, Corporal?”
“We’re chasing after that man they were talking about this morning, sir,” replied the NCO. “He’s somewhere in this area. You haven’t seen anyone, have you?”
“Well, apart from the big doors there,” he pointed, “which are shut and bolted, this door’s the only way in here. And I haven’t seen anyone come in through here. I’d know if there was someone in here, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so, sir,” replied the corporal. Well, sorry to have bothered you about this, sir. Please call out and raise the alarm if you do see anything or anyone suspicious, won’t you?”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Goodbye.” He closed the door, smiling. “You can come out now,” he called.
“Thank you,” said Kolinski. He was feeling quite a lot better now, but still felt hopelessly confused. “Why on earth are you helping me like this?”
“Haven’t you guessed? I’m the man who brought you here. Officially, I’m supposed to be helping my uncle develop the Netopyr for the Tsar, but I’m working for the Party. Comrade Zinoviev wrote me a message to tell me you were coming, and that you were here to do something about the Netopyr.”
“That’s right,” said Kolinski. “Good to meet you, Comrade.” The two embraced.
“But you’re quite a lot earlier than I expected,” said the other. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here for at least another week or maybe even two.”
“It’s a long story,” said Kolinski, “and it involves a ferry in the North Sea and a British submarine.” He proceeded to give an abbreviated account of his adventures since leaving Zurich.
“It sounds as though you’ve really left a trail of blood and destruction behind you,” said the engineer. “If they catch you, they’re not going to show you any mercy at all.”
“I wasn’t expecting any before I set off,” replied Kolinski. “I’ve done enough in my time to get me hanged many times over. I came here to do a job, though. Can we take control of the Netopyr for the Party?”
“It’s not really finished yet. A lot of work to be done before it’s ready.”
“You say you’re an engineer, right?” The other nodded. “So if we were to take the plans back to Zurich, you could work from the plans and make the thing perfect?”
The other laughed. “Comrade, you don’t understand the way these things work. First, I don’t have the plans; my uncle keeps them under lock and key, and I only see them when there’s work to be done. And then how are you going to get this monster,” pointing to the Netopyr, “back to Zurich for me to work on?”
“Well, then, would your uncle consider selling the plans to me to take back to Zurich? Maybe you could improve them and build a new Netopyr.”
The engineer shook his head. “Uncle Kolya may not be in love with the Tsar, but he wouldn’t want to help the Party, I am sure of that.”
“Even for money?”
“Even for money. He doesn’t work for money.”
“He doesn’t work for money, and he doesn’t work for the Tsar. What does he work for?” asked Kolinski, puzzled.
“He’s an engineer. He exists to build perfect machines. As do I,” said the other, “but I design my machines only for the good of the people, and not for the machines’ own sake.”
Kolinski shook his head. This was a species of human being with which he’d never previously come into contact. “I see,” he said, though he didn’t.
“And the other thing that you seem to be overlooking, Comrade, is that building a Netopyr takes a lot of money.”
“How much?”
“So far, I heard the figure of two hundred and fifty thousand roubles. And it’s not finished
.”
Kolinski whistled. “That is a lot of money, to be sure.”
“And the other thing is that you need skilled workers and a place to build it, as well as some sophisticated assembly processes and plants. Where does the Party have access to armour plating, for instance? And even if you did manage to build the thing in Zurich, what use would it be there to help with the Revolution here?”
“I suppose you’re right, Comrade.” Kolinski heaved a huge sigh. “Why didn’t you tell Zinoviev all this before he sent me here?”
“I did. Several times. Maybe he just thought he knew better, or he didn’t believe me.”
“What would happen if we were to destroy the Netopyr? Would your uncle build another one?”
“I don’t think he would be able to get the money for another one. The Tsar has given most of the money so far out of his own pocket. He was really impressed by a model of the Netopyr that my uncle showed him once, and has been providing the funds to develop it ever since. It’s not really a government project, you know.”
Kolinski craned his neck and looked up at the monster looming over them. “It really is a big thing, isn’t it? I saw it out there today, and it looked big then. Close up like this, it’s enormous. I don’t want our people to be fighting it when we start the Revolution. If we can’t buy it or make it for ourselves, we have to destroy it and stop all the work on it so that it can never be built again.”
“Easier said than done, Comrade. My uncle has designed it to be pretty tough. That’s armour plate protecting it up there, you know. Not just any old metal.”
“The wheels look pretty fragile, though.”
“You’d need something the size of an artillery shell to destroy them, but yes, if you knocked out the wheels, the whole thing would come crashing to the ground.”
“So where are the explosives we could use to destroy it?”
“All the ammunition and so on is locked away, and it’s only released on Petrov’s orders.”
“Who’s Petrov?”
