After a few minutes of frantic activity with signals dispatched and received via pneumos, Bolivar rose through the grey mist. The windows spattered with rain. Then suddenly the bridge was flooded with sunlight as the airship breached the cloud layer and sat atop an endless sea of orange-and-white cotton. The ship plowed across the surface of the rippling clouds, driving north toward her target.
Senator Clark drew deep on a black Cuban cigar. “So, how do you like it, Sirdar?”
“Like what, Senator?”
“The feeling of saving the human race? We'll be legends when this is over. Of course, I'm already a legend, but you'll be joining me.” He laughed and blew smoke into the rancid air.
“I'm grateful you made room on the pantheon for me.” Anhalt offered a begrudging smile. “I just hope this works.”
“It'll work. Everything I do works. You should see the Atlantic coast of the old United States now. Not a vampire in sight.”
“Nor anyone else, I'd wager,” the general murmured bitterly and consulted his watch again. “So, London within the hour?”
“I'd say so.”
“I'll observe the operation from the bomb deck, if that's acceptable with you.” Anhalt saluted and climbed down from the bridge. He couldn't bear the senator's crowing company for long, despite the fact that the man's confidence and enthusiasm were terribly contagious.
He worked his way down ladders and catwalks until the roar of the aluminum bursts were overhead. He entered the bomb deck in the belly of the airship. The bombardier chief consulted with his crew, all in heavy leather jackets with fur trim. They waited by a row of pneumo-tube out-spouts studying charts of London tacked to the bulkhead with magnets. A small company of bluejacket marines stood nearby.
Anhalt paused. “Chief, do you mind if I watch the operation from here?”
The sturdy American betrayed brief annoyance. “That'd be fine, General. I'll tell you, though, it gets pretty noisy and pretty cold down here. These bomb bays kick up an awful draft.”
“I'll trouble you for a coat, then.”
A thick leather flight jacket was produced for Anhalt, and he was immediately sweltering in it. He and the chief went to the rail that surrounded a vast open rectangle in the center of the bomb deck where the steel flooring stopped. Down in the open pit was the concave outer surface of the airship. A red light blinked over the pneumos, and a crewman pulled out a green tube. He immediately smashed his fist against a metal pad on the bulkhead. A klaxon started screaming. Men began moving into position, fastening their coats, and tugging on heavy caps. A whine filled the air, and sunlight shot in from underneath as the four bomb bay hatches slowly opened. The deck became a hurricane.
The bombardier chief grasped the rail. “I'd hold on as long as you're standing here. We've had boys sucked out before. Also watch your step; it gets wet.” Water quickly condensed and dripped from every surface.
Through the gaping rectangles in the belly of the airship, white clouds began to part and slivers of green and brown became rolling forests and broken edges of a city. Anhalt judged they were one thousand feet up and still dropping. He searched the clearing landscape and saw a curving river that looked like the Thames near Limehouse. Anhalt watched the decrepit metropolis pass below him as slowing Bolivar tracked west until Buckingham Palace was visible. Sure enough, there were large swathes of green, the old parks, surrounding much of the palace. Very few figures were visible through the trees. The ship descended to a mere seven hundred feet and steadied herself with maneuvering motors and held steady over the palace.
The chief glanced at the pneumo clerk, who read a new message and gave a thumbs-up. The chief shouted to Anhalt, “Spotters confirm we're on target. The senator said that you are the superior officer on board, so it's your honor, sir. The bridge is waiting for you to give the signal to burn it down.”
Anhalt wondered again what had happened to Gareth. Perhaps he wasn't even in London. There was no way of knowing. He prayed Adele would forgive him if he was wrong, but they couldn't delay any longer. “Proceed, Chief.”
The bombardier grinned and pumped an upraised fist to his crew. “Bombs away!”
Crewmen wrestled to turn large wheels on the bulkhead. Overhead, the four assembly-line chains started clanking. Hooks on the chains snagged bombs from their storage racks and carried them toward the open bays and dropped them into the sky like pendulous ripe fruit.
Turning to watch the bombs falling, Anhalt spied movement far below among the freshly green trees and crumbling buildings. Black shapes seemed to appear and cover the ground. Anhalt grabbed his trusty spyglass and peered down.
Vampires. Hundreds of them.
“Chief!” he shouted. “Signal the bridge we are under attack.”
The American looked confused until he too glanced over the rail and swore. He ran to the pneumo tubes, scribbled a note, and sent it flying. In moments, red lights began flashing and an earsplitting horn sounded.
Nearly buried beneath the warning klaxon came the rhythmic thumping of the ship's belly turrets opening up. Explosive shells flowered amidst the thickening flock of rising creatures. It seemed that many of the approaching vampires were buffeted aside by the blasts, but few were stopped from coming.
A marine sergeant appeared at Anhalt's shoulder. Short and broad-chested, he leaned on the rail and studied the darkening sky below the ship with calmly raised eyebrows. He scrubbed casually at his tight red beard. “Senator's compliments, sir, but I am requested to escort you back to the bridge.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” The sirdar pulled his pistol and drew his glowing Fahrenheit saber. “I believe I will stay with these men.”
The sergeant said, “It's likely to get a tad bloody.”
“I've seen a tad bloody before.”
“So I hear, sir.” His sharp salute revealed his admiration.
Anhalt watched the sky below Bolivar turn black with vampires. It was hard to make out individuals in the writhing morass of limbs and pale faces. Then the ship filled with creatures exploding up through the bomb bay hatches like starlings erupting from a smokestack. The marines opened fire into the storm squall of bodies. Figures twisted and spun, slashing with claws, falling on marines and airmen with teeth bared. Vampires scuttled everywhere, clutching onto crossbeams and dangling bombs.
Anhalt and the marine sergeant fell back to the pneumo bank with the chief bombardier and his men. The Equatorian fired his revolver and slashed at dark figures that feinted in and flitted back. Marines fought bravely, but men were swarmed under vicious mobs.
The sergeant yelled, “Sirdar, you need to withdraw, sir. The bridge is the safest place on the ship. My boys have got this well in hand.” A vampire swooped past him and clawed him to the ground. Anhalt stabbed the vampire through. The sergeant shook his bleeding head and pulled himself to his feet. “See? I'm fine. We'd prefer you not die down here. Your people need you.”
Anhalt felt like a coward, but he nodded consent. One man more would not make the difference here. The sergeant grabbed two privates. “Make a lane for General Anhalt to the hatch. We're taking him to the bridge.”
The Equatorian shouted, “Good luck to you!” to all he was leaving behind.
The chief bombardier waved cheerfully, ducking the scrabbling claws overhead. “Be careful on those ladders.”
Anhalt and the three marines scurried to the door, crouching low with men stabbing up with bayonets. The sergeant pulled open the hatchway and stepped out to cover, waving the others through quickly, and slammed the hatch closed again.
They muscled their way through the crowds of men in the corridors. Screams rang in the distance. Many of the gun decks were overrun or deep in blood. The vampires were working their way in from the hull. The engine room was lost, one man shouted. The engine room was the only safe place, another screamed.
They reached the airship's core where the great multichambered dirigible loomed in front them. They mounted a ladder that stretched up to the catwalk webs around the
gas works. The general stopped and pointed out three motionless vampires clutching the sloped side of the dirigible. The creatures seemed overwhelmed by the noise and smell. One marine raised his rifle.
“No!” Anhalt hissed. “They haven't noticed us. Climb.”
The men climbed with their rifles hanging off their arms by the straps, watching the vampires and waiting for the telltale twitch when the things would streak to the attack. They had reached the halfway point of the long ascent when a squad of airmen came out onto the catwalk some fifty yards below. Tools hanging from their belts clanged against the iron railing. The vampires dropped from their perch, swooping toward the airmen.
“Take them!” Anhalt shouted.
The marines awkwardly brought their rifles to bear, with elbows locked around the ladder rungs, and shots cracked. Aim was near impossible. Several of the creatures were hit and tumbled in the air. They righted themselves and focused on the marines above them as the airmen ran for safety. One vampire rose through the air, while the other two scrambled up the ladder toward the soldiers.
One of the spidery things below leapt, taking shots into his chest. He slammed against the bottom marine, ripping him off the ladder and leaving him to scream as he fell. The vampire surged forward, clutching the next marine and catching a bayonet in the face. The creature hissed and grasped the rifle barrel. The marine pulled the trigger with the muzzle nearly buried in the thing's cheek, and the vampire's head exploded.
Anhalt saw a vampire facing him twenty yards above, but on the opposite side of the ladder. The private below yelled, “Behind us!” A quick glance back showed the third creature scrambling up toward the group.
The marine private pulled a long dagger from his belt. “Go! Get the sirdar away!” Without hesitation, he slid down the ladder into outstretched claws. The vampire wrapped him up, and the marine shouted as he jammed the dagger into the thing's back, then pushed off into the air, wrenching the vampire from the ladder. Both figures plunged to the bottom.
The final vampire slithered down. The sergeant moved to the reverse side of the ladder, fumbling a long jagged knife from a belt sheath, almost losing his footing. The creature surged at him and seized the soldier by the head.
Anhalt drew back and shoved his Fahrenheit saber between the rungs into the vampire's midsection. He twisted the blade and the thing screamed. The sergeant slipped his dagger across the vampire's throat and grunted with effort as he dug the knife deep. Blood poured from the gash, mixing with the soldier's own. He gritted his teeth for one final push, and the thing's head lolled loosely to the side. The creature released its hold on the ladder and Anhalt kicked it. It fluttered away like a macabre old balloon.
The sergeant started to waver, drifting backward. Anhalt quickly snatched the man's bloody wrist through the ladder.
“Sergeant!” he shouted.
The man blinked and grabbed iron. “Thank you, sir. Up you go.”
Both men climbed fifty feet, where they staggered onto a catwalk. As they made their way, Anhalt reloaded his revolver and handed it to the marine. The sound of the engines faded as they trudged forward; faint screams and gunshots still echoed.
Finally, they saw the base of the companionway to the bridge ahead. Then they heard hissing. Behind them, two vampires started loping up the corridor. One raced along the deck while the other lifted onto the bulkheads and clawed forward like a charging leopard.
“Run!” Anhalt yelled.
He and the sergeant pounded down the steel corridor, their footfalls loud but unable to drown out the sound of the closing creatures. When they reached the companionway, the sergeant dragged himself up the steps to pound on the hatch.
“Open up! They're almost on us!”
Anhalt saw a speaking tube and shouted into it, “Open the hatch! Now! This is General Anhalt!”
He heard the scraping of a latch and turned to see the grinning vampires sweeping toward them. Hands reached down from the hatch, grabbing the sergeant and bringing him in. Anhalt started up as snarling faces and claws came at him, following him gracefully up the rungs. He stabbed down with his saber and kicked. Sharp pain lashed along his leg. Hands snatched his shoulders, and he was being lifted past the edge of the hatchway. He was tossed to the deck of the bridge.
Two airmen tried to shut the hatch, but a vampire shoved its way up, arms grasping for purchase on the deck. Growling and snapping. The marine sergeant rolled back to the hatchway and pointed Anhalt's revolver at the flailing vampire. He fired multiple shots into it. Anhalt slashed his saber against the thing's neck, and the head rolled loose onto the deck. The general kicked the twitching torso back through the hatch, and the heavy steel lid slammed shut.
“Well done, sir.” The marine extended the pistol by the barrel toward Anhalt. “And thanks for the use of your sidearm.”
“Quite welcome, Sergeant.” Anhalt slid his steaming saber into its scabbard.
“Good God!” Senator Clark exclaimed at the sight of the torn, bloody Anhalt. “You need to see the surgeon, but he's already dead. If this is light resistance, I'd hate to think what Greyfriar considers a full-on attack,” Clark snarled as he tugged on his spotless tunic. “We've already lost contact with the bomb deck and the engine room. We're dead in the air.”
Anhalt went to the fore windows. The sky was full of vampires, and many were crawling across the outside of the glass. The general gazed past them to the ground, which was growing nearer. There were no bombs falling now. Buckingham Palace stood largely unfazed.
He asked, “Any idea of casualties?”
Clark said, “What contact we've had with other decks report a slaughter. The dirigibles are damaged. I'm about to signal abandon ship. All hands will take to lifeboats.”
Anhalt turned over his shoulder. “They'll be cut to pieces in that melee out there.”
“Our lifeboats have some protection.” Clark threw up his hands. “What choice do we have? We're going down in enemy territory. Even if we managed to survive a crash, vampires don't take prisoners.”
Anhalt asked, “Can we maneuver at all?”
The young helmsman reported, “Slightly, sir. We have docking bursters. Limited fuel, good for a mile or two at most. So we can crash here, or we can crash a few miles south of London. Neither one sounds good.”
The sirdar stepped to the wheel. “I won't need much more than that.”
Clark paused from rolling up official papers in an oilskin bundle. “What are you talking about?”
“I came here on a mission,” Anhalt said, “and I intend to carry it out. I'm going to crash this ship into Buckingham Palace. Between the armed ordnance and the buoyancy gases and the engines, we should constitute a formidable bomb.”
“Are you insane?” The senator glared at the Equatorian. “You're talking about suicide.”
“Sacrifice, Senator. I believe this operation is our best chance to turn the war in our favor, to shorten it, and save the lives of many brave young men.”
The senator snapped, “You don't win wars by killing yourself.”
“Senator, sound abandon ship. Let everyone who can get off, do so.” Anhalt commanded calmly. His decision was made; his goal was something that could be accomplished. And if there was a chance that this action would mean safety for the empress, it was a small price to pay. “I'd like to borrow your ship, if I may.”
Captain Sandino stepped forward. “I'll stay with you, General, to fly the ship. If anyone is going to use Bolivar to kill vampires, it should be me. The rest of you, I want in the lifeboats. At least you'll have a chance to get home.”
“I'd like to stay with you, sir,” the young helmsman said in a clear voice.
“Count me in too,” the marine sergeant said from his bloody place propped against the bulkhead. “You'll need spotters so we can drop this thing right on top of them. And I won't survive a long trip in a lifeboat.”
Clark stared at Anhalt and shook his head. “I should've done this alone. You reek of failure.
Always have.”
With a grim look on his face, the senator snatched open a small compartment on the wall and turned a handle inside. There was a slight hiss of steam, and a two-note alarm began to echo through the ship. The senator tucked the package of documents under his arm and climbed a short ladder to a hatch in the ceiling. “Anyone who would prefer to live to see victory, come with me.”
No one moved. Every officer, airman, and marine continued to study readouts, charts, and controls.
Clark snorted with sarcasm and lazily saluted Anhalt. “Sirdar, I'll give your regards to the empress. I'll tell her how you died needlessly. It's too bad you won't see my ultimate victory over the vampires.”
Anhalt replied icily. “I would sooner sacrifice myself here with these brave Americans than serve beside you for a single moment longer.”
“Damn you, sir.” With that, Clark disappeared up through the hatchway, which was soon closed and locked from above.
After a few minutes, lifeboats appeared in the sky around Bolivar. They were capsules, some fifty feet long, like miniature zeppelins. Their onboard motors pushed them at a pace that was too slow to outdistance the surrounding vampires, who began to congregate around the little ships, clambering over them, spinning them out of control. The helpless crafts began to fall one by one.
A larger lifeboat swept into view, emblazoned with a family crest. Senator Clark. His lumbering craft began to make its turn away from the giant airship when a horde of vampires swarmed it too, crawling over its exterior, clawing and pounding the portholes. The senator's lifeboat was turned and tilted by the weight of the creatures. It rocked, and smoke boiled from its motors. It fought to keep its head, to maintain its way to freedom. But there was no hope for it. Just like all the other crafts in the air around it, the boat suddenly upended and plummeted. The vampires launched themselves safely into the air as the lifeboat spiraled sickeningly out of control, smashing into the distant Earth with a fiery bloom.
Anhalt stifled a sigh of despair. He could hear the distraught murmurs of the crew around him, stunned that their mythic commander had been brought down like a mere mortal. If he could die here, there was surely no hope for any of them.
Clay Griffith & Susan Griffith - [Vampire Empire 03] - The Kingmakers (mobi).mobi Page 37
