by Aeryn Leigh
Laurie lowered his head. Sighed.
What are they going to do? Go?
The smell of shit hit his nostrils. "Christ, what did you eat yesterday? C'mon," he said, and they headed back down the corridor. Snorri, Magnus and Beowulf greeted him by the fire pit.
"Wake your men," said Beowulf. "A decision awaits. Amelia can wait here with Snorri if that is acceptable?"
"Best you ask Griffin that," said Laurie.
A little while later, they entered the side throne-room, and found the king and the general either side of a large table with a map perched on it. Guards stood in each corner.
"Morning," said General Versetti. "I spent the rest of the night talking to King Hffylson. We have an agreement."
"Morning," said all the men, more or less at the same time.
"An agreement of what?" said Lucius.
"To go and bring back as much of your 'aeroplanes'," said the king, 'as can be fit on my barge ships. They will then travel with my fleet to the Republic capital, to be used in the war however possible, and shared by its allies."
"The Viking Empire is now united with the Republic," said Marietta. "After thirty years, it is finally re-united."
"We will stop our trade in slaves," said the king, "with all known pirate freeholds. A condition of the Republic." He looked at Lucius.
"Wait up," said Andrew. "You have no idea what you’re doing or how to use it."
"Precisely," said General Versetti. "That's why you should help us."
"But what about the monster?" said Daniel.
"It is worth the risk," said Rothgar. "Any true warrior should relish the chance for glory in battle."
"Are you coming?" said Laurie. He realised his mouth had spoken before his brain.
The king laughed. "I would not miss it for Odin," he said. "Are you?" His eyes twinkled. "But we will leave you so you can talk." The king, the general, and the guards retreated to the throne room.
"We can't stop them," said Andrew. They huddled around the table.
"You have a gift for the damn obvious," said Lucius. "They'll butcher the planes breaking them apart."
"So do you."
"The bigger question," said Laurie, quickly, "is what are you all wanting to do? There's no Army or Air Force command over you now. You are all free men, whatever the hell that means here. And that means, you're no longer my men to command, nor Lucius's. You each can do whatever you damn well want."
"Yeah," said Lucius. "I'm not your Captain any more. Just another brother in a messed-up situation." He stared at the map. "Look at the territory the Inquisition are conquering. If we don't fight, we're gonna end up dead once they claim everything."
"Not goin’ to happen if I have any say in it," said Griffin. "By what Marietta says the Republic is the closest thing we got to a free United States and no segregation. I'll fight."
"And me," said Daniel. "What else am I going to do?"
"Start up a pub?" said Mick.
"You'll end up a short-time inn-keep," said Andrew. "Just look at that map. Remember what Marietta said last night. The Inquisition offered a banner of truce, to be held on neutral ground, then decapitated the entire command structure of the Republic in one fell swoop, and the cream of their military to boot. Their one remaining full-strength army. Including her mother." He tapped on the map. "The way I see it gentlemen, we were fighting Nazi fascist bastards before we hit the storm, and there's just as nasty bad guys here. We can't go home. The only way out is through. Shall we?"
"Are you sure you're not Captain material?" said Laurie. The men looked around, at each other, at the map, and out the high windows.
"I can punch Nazi's all day," said Mick, with a wide smile, cracking his fingers. His blue eyes caught Griffin and the Old Man's expression, who both grinned back.
"All day, every day," said Griffin, looking at every man in turn.
Every man nodded.
"Well it's settled. Who's going with the king and who's with the general?" said Laurie, rubbing his chin.
"It makes sense for the engineers to go back," said Andrew. "And anyone who knows how to wrench."
"I knew you'd say that," said Mick.
In the end, they all agreed on who was doing what and a rough plan of what could be salvaged from the two aircraft. General Versetti clapped her hands together when the group announced their decision in the throne room.
"Excellent," she said, putting an errant black hair behind an ear. "King Rothgar, with all haste, we begin."
"You know what to do," said King Hffylson to his only son, when they were alone in the map room. His guards stood outside.
"Do we have any chance of victory without them? Should the Inquisition find weapons the equal of what we just found, we all we be feasting in the halls of Valhalla while our bodies rot."
"I raised you Beowulf to follow your heart as well as your mind. I encouraged that independent streak in you that flowed also through your mother, against tradition." He looked at the west window, and the small cobweb in its corner. "It's been hard for you. Commanding a fort full of criminal outcasts like Jorvik."
Beowulf watched his father's face. After these many years, this would be the closest they ever got, the closest his father would ever get to an apology. The boy in him wanted to hug his father, to embrace him, and then maybe, the decades of being ostracised by his father's political, not personal, decisions would somehow be okay.
And then, as two leaves flowing downstream had soon come together, the river parted, and each leaf went their own way.
The small flotilla wound upstream, with each heave of hundreds of oars. Upon four flat-bottomed barges, cranes, horses, carts, metalwork equipment, tackle and gods knew what else laid between sweating Vikings manning each wooden paddle. And out front, two longships the size of Hellsbaene trailed after the king's flagship.
"Why is the king coming along again?" said Mick, staring at the king's pennant on the ship ahead. He didn't bother asking Laurie, who once more added the contents of the stomach to the river. Laurie had been excused from rowing duties.
"Oh, for honour," said Magnus, pulling an oar. "What else is there?"
"Honour for picking up and dragging home bits of metal?" said Lucius. His hands hadn't seen manual labour in a while and blisters bubbled out like the rest of the bomber crew's palms. "Seems weird to me."
Magnus burst out into a meaty chuckle. "No, my friends, he means to kill the monster. Or be killed by it. It's one and the same."
The refugees from 1944 absorbed this, as they rowed in time to each drumbeat.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Farewells
The General's ship was no longship. Old and ancient, to the newcomers at least, the three-masted ship of the line moored on the other side of Odinsgate, by the inner West Gate. The West Gate channel of water had the deepest draught, and as Andrew and the others found out, was designed that way. Anything that wasn't a shallow-water ship like the Vikings used were forced to use the single entrance available, and the West Gate overflowed with defences, overshadowing the other three gates in weaponry and nastiness.
"Welcome my Furia," said General Versetti, as she led the group into the miniature harbour and introduced them to her flagship. The last of supplies and provisions were being loaded via the gangway, and a tall brown-haired man wearing black stood by the walkway and saluted her.
"Lieutenant, these are our guests." She returned the salute. "Newbloods, this is Lieutenant Giorvano. We'll have time for proper introductions later." Marietta watched the last crate go by. She turned back to Giorvano. "Make preparations to depart, Lieutenant. As for the rest of you, I will show you to your berths." She clapped her hands. "Presto, presto."
Griffin watched the group walk up the wooden gangway, Amelia bouncing up and down in excitement, and looked back at the city of Odinsgate. My baby girls, he thought, back home in Chicago, be strong just like your Mama. I'll always remember you. He kissed the fading photo, looked down at his leather-shod fe
et, and willed himself to take the first step in his new life. But somewhere, somehow down the line, those responsible for bringing him here, tearing him away from his family — there would be an reckoning.
The king only took the most perfunctory interest in the fort Laurie ripped apart a little time ago. He commanded a long ship to stop there and assess the damage, and with that housekeeping done, urged the flotilla onwards.
"Thank small mercies for tailwinds," said Thorf, as the men rested. Or as he noticed, the newcomers rested. The Vikings around them still added their muscle.
"No rowing in your age?" said Magnus. He shook his head, the long red curls bouncing.
"They have this wizardry called engines," said Snorri, next to him. "It burns a flammable oil."
"Internal combustion engine," said Thorf, taking a swig of water. "You'll seen one soon."
"Is that what the water-tight barrels are for?" said Magnus. "The oil?"
"If there's any left of the aviation fuel, yes," said Thorf. "Do you have oil here? Black, treacly, stuff?"
The Vikings exchanged glances.
"It is said the Inquisition has discovered something like that in recent times," said Snorri. "A liquid which burns with the blackest smoke and smells foul. They burn their enemies alive in it."
"Just what we need," said Lucius. "We need to get some."
The flotilla did not stop in the dark. Vikings rowed throughout the night, taking turns to sleep, in the starlight. The river became narrower, but still with enough room for the barges to pass tree-lined banks. Lucius and the rest slept sitting upright, backs against the barge sides, bone-tired. Laurie however, sat towards the prow, and wrote in his little notebook.
Odinsgate disappeared over the horizon, soon replaced by a storm that lashed Furia and made her swing up and down and left to right riding the ocean waves. Marietta informed them the trip would take eight days, if winds and weather favoured them.
That evening, when the storm had passed, they sat in the officer's quarters, next to the captain's room. The remains of dinner laid on the hardwood table in front of them, and Lieutenant Giorvano sat down the end.
"Fresh supplies from harbour, what a feast," said Giorvano. He placed his fork back down and sighed.
"Marietta," said Amelia, "can I ask you something?" She had been waiting patiently until the adults has eaten.
"Yes child?" said Marietta, from the head of the table.
"Why does everyone speak English?" said Amelia. The ship bobbed gently and creaked around them.
"Ah, perceptive," said Marietta. "What is your first language?"
"German," said Amelia. "Daniel and Abe and Griffin and all the others speak English from birth."
"That's a very good question," said Andrew. "Why didn't I think of that?"
"The fish doesn't think of the water that surrounds it, does it?" said Marietta. "It's as natural to the fish as air is to us."
"Are there universities here? Schools of learning?" said Andrew, craning forward. He sipped from the flagon of wine and missed half of it from his excitement. "Shit."
"English, as you call it, has simply evolved with every arrival here. It's become the default language, even for the Inquisition," said the General. "Giordano's great-grandparents were Italian and Dutch. My father was Italian. It took him many years to learn English when he arrived here. But he taught me a few words." She smiled, wide-eyed and looked at Amelia. "And some of them are rude." She winked.
"The Republic has one school, and one University, side by side," said Giordano. "Teaching is a respected position both for new arrivals and those born here."
"Once they learn English, I guess," said Daniel.
"The most valuable thing we have is in your heads," said Marietta. "Knowledge is power." She drank her wine. "Flying machines. To see it with my own eyes would be such a thing."
"Mummy loves flying machines," said Amelia. "She's been flying them since she's been a girl. She calls them gliders, which fly just from the wind, and propeller planes, which have a motor, and she just started flying a jet plane." The whole statement came in a rush. Griffin and the others looked at her. She hadn't spoken this much about her mother before. "She says that nothing can catch another jet aeroplane except for another one."
"Jet aeroplanes?" said Marietta. "Is that how you ended up here? You flew in one?"
"Yes," said Amelia. "And we saw the Eiffel Tower and it was so pretty but then Mummy got angry and the storm hit us."
"I see. We have much to learn. But I think that's enough chatter for this evening. Giorvano will show you to your berths once more." And with that, they were dismissed. "Andrew, stay a moment, please," she said as they filed out the door.
"Yes?" said Andrew.
When they were alone, she spoke. "Could the Inquisition make a 'jet plane' even if they found one?"
"I don't believe so," said Andrew. "The level of technology required is quite high."
She ran a hand through her hair. "Thank you, Andrew." And with that, retreated to her cabin, leaving Andrew in thought as he tried not to bump his head on the way back to the berths and his rope hammock, still half wondering if this was all a dream.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Breaking The Express
The flotilla unloaded the horses, cranes, and equipment mid-afternoon. The rain hammered down, as the Vikings established a temporary base where the river became too narrow.
"Pleasant enough for ya?" said Mick, struggling with a corner of their tent. "You're always complaining about it never raining."
"Just shut up and pass me the mallet," said Thorfinn, holding a wooden stake between his knees. "Thanks." He pounded the stake into the rich earth, and Mick looped the rope around it.
On the other side, Laurie and Lucius did mortal battle.
"C'mon you bastard, in," said Laurie, trying to hammer the stake into the soil and not getting far.
"It's a rock," said Lucius. "Or a tree root." He wiped his eyes free of rainwater. "Let me have a go."
"Just one more...," said Laurie. He struck. "Bugger it, your turn." He passed the hammer to Lucius, handle out.
Lucius knelt, aimed, and delivered a mighty blow. He leapt upright, jumping up and down. Laurie retrieved the fallen hammer and continued, as Lucius swore like a sailor in the rain.
The night passed without incident.
"Quite boring," said Snorri as they broke the overnight fast, eating strips of dried meat. And then they moved towards Laurie's aeroplane, as one great caravan of horses, sleds, carts, and feet carrying engineering equipment in the knee-high wet grass. The Lancaster was further from the river than the B-17, and after an hour they reached it.
After everything that had happened since they crashed, coming back to the bomber felt like home to Laurie, Lucius, Mick and Thorfinn.
"There she is," said Laurie to King Hffylson. "One Avro Lancaster, crashed, never to fly again. Hade's Express."
The king and all the Vikings just stared at the great metal beast, it's back broken, damaged all over.
"It... flies?" said the king. "But how?"
"By four Rolls-Royce V12 Merlin engines," said Mick, "but I guess, you'll have to wait to see them running."
The Vikings looked puzzled.
"Would you like a tour?" said Laurie. "Lucius and Thorfinn can start directing your men out here."
"Yes," said the Viking king, looking fifty-years younger.
Inside the bomber, a few spiders had already claimed the space their own. Laurie brushed the cobwebs aside, offering apologies to them as he did, and gave the king a quick tour.
"So, at a bare minimum," said Thorfinn outside, "we need to remove the engines, hopefully the wings if possible, syphon the fuel, salvage the fuel bladders, unbolt the machine-guns and all ammunition, lift out the bomb, take the wireless radio, and strip all the electrical mechanisms we can find without damaging them." He cast his gaze over the one-hundred and sixty-odd Vikings that stood before him. "Not that you'll understand any of that
, but Snorri and Magnus will help you. Mick, Lucius, Laurie, and myself will be your team leaders. Any questions, ask us." He paused. "... ah hell, let's get to it. Snorri, Magnus? We've told you what to do." He jumped off the cart. "I hate talking."
"Men of Odinsgate," said the king, coming out of the bomber, "as we planned on the boats. Begin."
The king and his guard took watch, as disassembly started slow but picked up speed as both newcomers and Vikings got a feel for each other's strengths and ways of working. Lucius and Mick worked on the machine-guns, wrenching bolts and support arms free, and Vikings placed the eight .303 calibre guns with care on the first line of wooden carts.
"Wrap them good," said Laurie, as waterproof oil-skins swaddled the weapons. The ammunition came out quick, and joined the carts.
"Christ that stuff tastes awful," said Mick, on his fourth attempt to get the fuel out of the inner fuel tank, closest to the fuselage, into the barrels below. He sucked yet again on the rubber tubing he'd fed like a snake into the tank, and at last fuel flowed and gravity took care of the rest, high-octane fuel filling the watertight barrels.
"Did you ever take apart your favourite toy as a kid but never could get back together again?" said Thorfinn, unbolting the desk supports the wireless radio sat on inside the fuselage.
"My toys didn't have much bolts," said Lucius. "More like, nails." He thumped the underside of the table. "Why, what happened?"
"Oh, just curious," said Thorfinn.
Outside, Mick and Laurie stood on the left wing, studying the engines in their metal cowling's. Mick still spat out the taste of the aviation fuel.
"Do we just hack them out?" said Laurie. "We don't have welders or angle grinders."
"Probably lucky we don't, otherwise mate we'd go up in flames," said Mick. "Mind you, fire still a bit of a worry."
"So, we rip them out with cranes, tackle and horses as agreed, after unbolting as much as we can." He beckoned Beowulf and his team to begin winding rope around the outermost starboard engine, destroyed by flak, it's giant metal propeller folded back like the others.
