by E. J. Blaine
On the bridge, Maria Blutig stood at parade rest, feeling the faint hum of the steel deck through her boots. She looked like a carved ebony statue in her crisp, black uniform and short, black hair. Her demeanor told an onlooker that for all her beauty she was cold and unapproachable. In the Silver Star, she was considered efficient and effective, but lacking in emotion. It was a lie, of course, Maria was anything but unemotional, as her enemies eventually discovered to their horror. But it was a useful lie, and she went to great lengths to maintain it.
Around her, the flight crew went about their duties in silence under the watchful eye of Captain Ecke, the ship’s commander. The only sound was the wind whistling around the edges of the hull. All was routine.
Maria was tired of routine. For months now, she’d been flying the same course between Shambala Base and a Silver Star provisioning depot on the Caspian Sea. This rebuilt Luftpanzer was meant for conquest, just as Maria herself was. Ferrying supplies back and forth was degrading to them both.
But the Shambala project was critical to the Silver Star’s plans. And it was an amazing accomplishment to maintain an expeditionary base in such a remote, inaccessible place. Literally everything there had been carried deep into the Himalayas aboard Luftpanzer, then flown into the valley in breathtakingly dangerous flights—hundreds of them—by small planes never meant to carry passengers or cargo. It was a testament to the Silver Star’s capabilities and to her determination.
And worth the effort, she reminded herself. Already, the science team had delivered powerful weapons and other discoveries that would help destroy the Silver Star’s enemies and extend its power. Crowley was pleased. He had given the project his full support. And none of that would have happened without the new Luftpanzer. That built Maria’s own power within the organization, and went a long way toward repairing the damage to her reputation from the loss of the original Luftpanzer a year ago.
A junior radio officer approached her and saluted.
“Mein Führerin,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “We have established radio contact with Shambala Base. They transmit Code Falcon.”
Maria showed no reaction, but Code Falcon meant Captain Ardinger was requesting to speak to her directly. Something had happened. Ardinger was a good soldier. Stolid, unimaginative, but he followed orders and he could be trusted not to do anything stupid. She almost felt bad for making him babysit Mencken. The Doctor was endlessly whining about one thing or another, usually the lack of resources to conduct whatever new experiment he’d dreamed up. Even in the most remote place in the world, he was incapable of understanding why she couldn’t simply snap her fingers and produce a hundred pounds of refined mercury or a sub-micron filter. If Ardinger was requesting an audience, it could mean Mencken was causing trouble for him again.
But she needed to keep Dr. Mencken happy to maintain the flow of useful discoveries from Shambala and build her own power within the Silver Star. If she kept producing miracles for Crowley, soon no one would be able to prevent her from using the Silver Star’s resources as she saw fit. And Maria had big plans. Crowley was a dissipated asthmatic, his body wrecked by indulgence and drugs. He wouldn’t live forever. One day, she might control the Silver Star, and through it the world.
The radioman was growing increasingly anxious at her side. She looked him up and down, just for effect, then nodded. “Very good.” She gestured and followed him out the rear door to the main access way. Whatever Ardinger’s problem, it was better to take it in the privacy of the radio room.
She made her way down the metal catwalk, surrounded by aluminum beams, guy wires, and the ship’s gas cells. A pair of technicians pressed tight against the railing to let her pass. They saluted, and she tossed off a perfunctory salute in reply. She walked on and turned into the ship’s radio room. The senior radioman was there, furiously transcribing Morse signals on a pad. His subordinate stepped to one side and stood with his back to the wall to make room for her in the small cabin. The man on the radio finished his sentence, then tapped out a quick “stand by.” He took off his headphones and snapped to attention. His expression was grim, Maria noticed.
“You have a report?”
The man handed her his pad with a crisp motion. She glanced over the report and felt her jaw tighten. No wonder Ardinger had wanted to report directly. Enemy contact. She’d worried about that since they briefly tangled with the Daedalus in the high mountains. Somehow AEGIS had found its way there, and that was cause for concern. But she knew there was no way an airship could make the passage into the valley itself, and the Daedalus couldn’t carry winged parasite fighters as Luftpanzer did. But it appeared they’d gotten their hands on an airplane after all. At least there was only one, and she noted with satisfaction that that one had promptly been shot down.
But still, fourteen men lost? That was more than a quarter of the force she’d worked so hard to establish there and keep supplied. And killed by just two AEGIS agents? She expected better from Ardinger. So this was why he was waiting on the radio, to explain his failure.
She thrust the pad back at the radioman. “Give me Captain Ardinger.”
The radioman flipped switches and offered her a headset. She held it against one ear as the radioman adjusted the signal strength and spoke into a desk mic.
“Shambala Base, Shambala Base. Luftpanzer sending. Falcon is on the channel.”
The radio crackled and whined. Radio reception in these deep mountains was a tricky matter.
“Luftpanzer, this is Shambala Base,” a voice finally replied. It sounded stretched and eerie. “Going to open mic.”
The radioman turned to Maria. “Ma’am.”
Maria let a hint of venom slip into her voice. “Captain. I’ve seen your initial report. Please explain yourself.”
To Ardinger’s credit he didn’t try to deflect the blame. “When the aircraft appeared, I scrambled our planes and they were able to bring it down over the deep valley. I deployed my forces to search for the crew. They were located and trapped in a small tributary canyon on the southern edge of the valley. The terrain there largely neutralized our advantage in numbers. I made the choice to send my men into the canyon to root them out. They used explosives to destroy a glacial dam there, and the resulting avalanche and torrent of water killed all but two of the men in the canyon.”
“And yet their quarry survived quite unharmed!” Dr. Mencken’s high, reedy voice sounded even more unnatural over the radio channel. “The Captain seems unable to properly lead a simple military mission, much less a scientific expedition of this importance.”
This again. From the beginning, Mencken had chafed at having a soldier in charge of what he considered his expedition. She needed to keep Mencken happy and productive, but she couldn’t let him run amok and make a disaster of it. She had too much at stake for that. So she performed the delicate balancing act of stroking Mencken’s ego while keeping him focused on his work.
“What matters is not the Captain’s failure, but the capture of the two enemy agents,” Mencken was saying. “I’ve told you repeatedly how critical human test subjects are to my work. I must have these two or I can’t predict how much my work might be delayed.”
“Don’t try to threaten me, Doctor,” she snapped. “That will go badly for you. I got you the man you said you needed, and you lost him. Have you recovered Dr. Rhys yet?”
“More incompetence!” Mencken practically screamed. “One of his pilots killed him! Weeks after his escape! Somehow he survived in the jungle for weeks! I’ve no idea how! I was very clear that I needed a blood sample as well as tissue and—”
“My pilot followed standing orders to kill the large predator species on sight,” Ardinger interrupted. “My reports have made clear the problems we’re having with aggressive wildlife. If I had a generator capable of powering an electric fence—”
“Without some indication of how Rhys survived on his own, the DL-95 project remains—”
“Be quiet!” Mari
a shouted.
Both men fell silent immediately. For a moment there was only the eerie hiss and moan of the radio channel.
“Neither of you is indispensable,” she said at last. “Remember that. Now then. You’ve captured the two AEGIS infiltrators, and the dispute is whether they’re to be kept for questioning or given over to Dr. Mencken for his experiments. Do I have the essence of it?”
It was Mencken who spoke first. “As always, Fraulein Blutig, you have a gift for seeing clear to the heart of the matter. I concede the possibility that they might be able to reveal some small shreds of information. But compared to their value to the toxin program…”
“We’ve identified the agents, mein Führerin,” said Ardinger. “They are Dorothy Starr and Jack McGraw.”
Jack McGraw. The instant she heard the name, Maria’s world seemed to collapse down to a point. Nothing else mattered. She’d found McGraw at last. When he left AEGIS and disappeared a year ago, Maria had put out feelers and searched everywhere she could think of that McGraw might have gone. But she’d gotten back nothing. There was simply no trace of him for her agents to find. It was as if the earth had swallowed him up.
But now he’d returned. And to find him here! It was beyond belief.
The oath she’d sworn. The oath of vengeance that drove her. If it could be fulfilled after all these years. If that demon could at last be sated…
Ardinger and Mencken were arguing again, she realized. The radioman was staring at her, openly terrified.
“Bring McGraw to me,” she said softly. “I will expect him immediately upon our arrival. Dr. Mencken, you may have the woman for your experiments. Am I clear?”
Even through the radio, the sound of her voice silenced them immediately. “Yes, mein Führerin,” said Ardinger.
A moment later, Mencken added, “That will suffice for my initial tests.”
Maria checked her watch. “We will arrive on station in just over four hours,” she said. “I will expect a plane carrying McGraw to meet us. Luftpanzer out.”
###
Jack’s head hurt. That was how he knew he was becoming himself once again. Whatever had been in the dart they’d hit him with had left him floating painlessly on a cloud. Now he was coming in for a hard landing.
Jack looked around. This place must be a makeshift lab. Doc lay on the metal table, not moving. He thought she was asleep. He was tied to a cot that he gathered was war surplus. A folding wooden frame with stretched canvas. His wrists and ankles were tied to the frame with plain hemp rope.
The guards were still standing by the door, silent. Jack had no idea how long they’d been there. His sense of time was unreliable at the moment. Memories came back to him slowly. Dr. Mencken, the madman who had created the poison, who had threatened to destroy Doc’s mind. The man he’d promised to kill. Mencken wasn’t here because another man interrupted him. A soldier. Jack presumed the commander of the base. He'd recognized them, and right now would be sending word of their capture to the Luftpanzer. Maria Blutig would be pleased to hear that she finally had him in her grasp. But whatever she had planned for Jack wouldn’t be pleasant. He needed to come up with a plan, and fast.
One of the guards yawned, and the other one gave him a stern look.
Jack gently pulled against the ropes binding him to the cot. They were tight. But there was something different about his right leg. He tried it again. There was the slightest bit of give in the wood. He could flex the wooden cot with that leg where his other leg and his arms remained motionless.
There was a weakness in the wood, a knot or some other flaw. It was something he could work with.
The yawning guard turned to his comrade. “Cover me a minute,” he muttered in German.
“No,” the other whispered back. “You saw the Captain. He’s in no mood today.”
“I have to piss.”
“Piss your pants, then,” the other one answered. “It’s nothing to me.”
“Come on, just cover for me. I’ll be right back.”
Jack flexed against the rope, testing it, and decided he could probably snap the wooden frame there if he tried. But then what? He pictured the construction of the frame. If it broke there, what would he be able to do?
He could roll to his side, Jack thought, and get the free leg underneath him. That would let him stand. He’d still have the cot tied to his back, his wrists roped to the frame. But he’d be able to move. The guards had their rifles slung over their shoulders. It would take a few seconds to bring them to bear. If there was just one of them, he could charge and hopefully take the guard down before he could fire. It was a long shot, but that was all they had.
The other guard shook his head and sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Be quick. If the Captain comes back, you’re screwed, you hear me? I’m not taking the fall for you.”
The first guard muttered something Jack couldn’t make out, then slipped out the door. Jack took several deep breaths, tensing his body.
“Hey!” Doc snapped suddenly. “Big boy! You want to make it out of this in one piece, you better listen to me!”
Jack looked over at her. She was looking at the remaining guard. But she was flashing a signal with her tied hand, from a code they’d worked out with the rest of the crew. The sign meant “go”.
The guard strode toward Doc’s table, taking his attention away from Jack. Jack thrust his right leg against the ropes with all his strength and felt the wood give with a splintering crack. He threw himself to his right and powered up to his feet, dragging the cot with him.
The guard whirled and whipped out a dagger with blinding speed, but Jack was already lurching toward him. He spun his torso to turn the cot, using it as both weapon and shield. The blade glanced off a wooden crosspiece and slashed the tight canvas. Then Jack slammed into the guard, and they went down. He felt the broken frame giving way, but all he could do was kick with his right leg. He managed to get a knee into the guard and heard him grunt in pain.
Then there was bright light from behind him and a shout. A rifle butt slammed him hard in the ribs and knocked the wind out of him. Arms hauled him up, ripping the shreds of the cot away. The other guard had returned, and he’d brought two others with him.
Jack felt a cold muzzle thrust against the back of his neck. He stopped struggling and stood quietly as one of the guards cut the ropes binding his wrists to the shattered wooden frame, then pulled his arms out in front of him and slapped metal cuffs on his wrists.
One of the soldiers gave a vicious laugh. “You’re going to wish we’d just shot you.”
Chapter 21
There were four guards, including the one Jack had just jumped. Two held guns on him while the others kicked away the wreckage of the cot, cut away the ropes, and rechecked the metal cuffs.
Then they turned him around and marched him toward the door.
“Hey!” Doc shouted from the lab table, “Hey, where are you taking him?”
The guards ignored her. Jack went rigid and glared at the guard trying to steer him to the door. “We’re a team,” he said. “I go, she comes with me.”
Then his legs were suddenly swept from beneath him and he fell. But he didn’t quite hit the floor. One of the guards caught his cuffs and pulled Jack’s arms up behind him. He gasped in pain, and Doc shouted, “Stop it!”
They dragged him by his arms a few feet farther. “You walk, or you go like this,” one of the guards snarled.
“All right! All right.”
They let Jack get back to his feet. He glanced back at Doc and saw the fear in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be back for you.”
“I know you will,” she answered.
Then they opened the door and marched Jack outside.
He was in the middle of the Silver Star camp. The laboratory was a fairly crude building made of plaster poured through what appeared to be some kind of metal meshwork, all held up with metal framing. Everything here had come in aboard one of the smal
l fighters, Jack remembered. They would have chosen materials that were as light and collapsible as possible. There were a couple other buildings nearby made of the same material, but most of the men lived in army-style field tents. They marched Jack past a row of them, and he saw a second row laid out in parallel on the other side of the metal and plaster structures.
Glancing inside an open tent as they passed, he saw two cots and did some math. Two men to a tent, two rows of about a dozen tents. So the place could hold about fifty men. If they’d really killed more than a dozen back at the canyon, that meant there were between thirty and forty enemy soldiers left. The airstrip was straight ahead, a couple hundred yards beyond the edge of the camp itself. The two small fighters were parked side by side at the end.
He wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge. He had no weapons and no plan. But if an opportunity arose, he meant to be ready to take advantage of it. Doc was in danger, alone, and afraid. She could take care of herself, but this was one of those situations where he didn’t think she’d mind some help.
At the opposite end of the camp, they stopped at another metal and plaster building of about the same size and dimensions as Dr. Mencken’s lab. One soldier knocked, and there was a voice from inside. They opened the door and marched Jack into what he realized had to be the Captain’s office.
Dr. Mencken and the Captain were there. Ardinger was his name, Jack remembered. Mencken wore a nasty little grin. Ardinger stood behind a camp desk covered in papers and the remains of his breakfast on a tin plate.
“Captain McGraw,” Ardinger said. “You do cause trouble, don’t you?”
“I didn’t start it.”
Ardinger ignored him. “We have received new orders regarding your disposition. You are to be flown out immediately to rendezvous with the Silver Star airship Luftpanzer.”
