by G. R. Carter
Paula Romano had chosen to establish her domain close to the city, one of the first built and easily within sight of the brilliant white and silver skyscrapers. Wisely, she encouraged her children to move further away, giving them a chance to become influential as undeveloped areas grew over time. Her oldest son Elias had taken her advice, founding a huge estate near Columbia, just outside what had once been the flagship campus of the University of Missouri.
Just like all five branches of the Romano family, Elias had a nearly perfect Citizen score. No suspicion of black market dealings, always met production quotas, not as much as a rumor of dissent from a disaffected servant. Along with above average intelligence test scores that went with being a professional airline pilot before the Reset, Nicole had selected him to command a skyship shortly after they were built and commissioned. The man had an aptitude for it, leading the squadron that had helped the Red Hawks snatch victory at the battle of Philippi.
His reward was a post to the newly built state-of-the-art skyship squadron, not just Airlanders modified to carry a few Peacekeepers or scout for outlaws. The Tulsa class was the first batch of true attack craft—a decent bomb payload and a mounted Gatling on the gondola. The squadron had performed with great promise over the Northern Caliphate lines, helping scare the Dark Age Jijis and gaining invaluable experience. Which was exactly why Tony had felt confident in sending them against the Buckles when the time came for Mt. Horab to be taught a lesson. The thought made Tony disgusted. It was a lesson, all right.
He closed the file as he felt the train decelerate. There was nothing else to be gleaned, no fault to find with Romano for the plan he had executed. In fact, the Admiral likely saved the two surviving skyships with quick thinking…though the man had chalked it up to lack of ammunition by the attacking plane. The plane, Tony thought. That’s what I have to get figured out. Where did the plane come from?
Mt. Horab should have been years away from affording anything like what his skyships faced above Grand Tower Island. There was something bothering him about it that he couldn’t place. Even if the Buckles could afford an attack craft, it took dozens of hours just for someone to learn to fly, and there just weren’t that many people left around these days who had any pre-Reset flight experience. Only a small handful of societies could afford to devote the time and resources to teaching people to fly, Mt. Horab wasn’t one of those societies.
The train finally stopped with a hiss and a final jolt as the brakes set. Tony stood and stretched his legs, looking down at the piles of paper cluttering up his desk. He thought for a moment about putting some in his briefcase, then thought better. This was a fact-finding trip. He needed to hear the words straight from Romano. Written reports from a well-meaning clerk who retyped what he thought the Premier wanted to know didn’t hold a candle to looking into a man’s eyes while he related an account.
A servant stepped into the car, quietly waiting to be acknowledged. Without a word, Tony grabbed his insulated overcoat, donned a matching fedora, and moved his way to the stairway. As he stepped out onto the station platform, cutting winds chilled his face. The warmth of the car left him, making him walk quickly to the waiting personnel carrier. Four aides and a personal servant joined him. He was used to traveling in his armored limousine when he needed to leave the City Center, but that wasn’t an option here yet.
The vehicle sent to pick up Tony and his entourage began life as an armored truck, moving from bank to business and back with change and paper currency. Fewer were around as money became all digital, but some survived to carry the valuables of the wealthy. This one received a new lease on life as the personal transport of Admiral Romano. It was nearly identical in structure to what ARK was now producing to use for the large-scale deployment of Peacekeepers in combat. Nicole designed them herself, feeling that that the Snapping Turtles of the Republic were too lightly armored, and the Razorbacks were too slow.
This vehicle had armored metal walls and bulletproof windows, virtually impenetrable by anything short of a rocket launcher. It bumped along the crumbling asphalt road, a comfortable ride sacrificed for the heavy suspension needed to carry the necessary weight. Tony couldn’t see them from the passenger compartment, but he knew there would be at least one more truck in front of them and one behind, each carrying as many Peacekeepers as they could fit. Also overhead were two AirLander scouts working a back-and-forth pattern over the road to spot for any signs of unauthorized human activity.
Out here on the frontier, there was no room for half measures. The odds of bandit attack were negligible, but that didn’t mean threats were impossible. No one wanted the Premier’s life to be in danger—including the Premier!
The convoy moved along at a steady rate, no sudden acceleration or swerving, finally stopping after about a thirty-minute ride. Tony waited for a knock on the door, the all-clear that Peacekeepers were in contact with Romano’s security forces. Outside light flooded the compartment with the opening door. Each adviser and then his servant stepped out, lining up on either side while Tony exited. He adjusted his coat, firmed down his fedora, gave a nod and then followed the group down a crushed rock path. Flanking him on each side were senior members of the Peacekeepers, most blood relation to the Diamante family in some form or fashion. In frontier situations such as this they no longer wore their all-black uniforms so common in the City. Here they had a gray, green and black multicam pattern covering their shirt and trousers—a series of small squares and rectangles randomly spread in random combinations. They still retained their black beret, though in combat situations their heads were covered by the old U.S. Army ‘fritz’ style helmet, skinned in the same pattern as their clothes. The uniform was completed by calf-high lace-up boots manufactured in a factory near the heart of the City since all the pre-Reset ones had worn out.
Walking up ahead were a half dozen of Romano’s men, similarly outfitted except with camouflage patterns more leafy in appearance. Most were once Peacekeepers in the City, so they shared a common demeanor, terminology and weapons expertise. Tony noticed with approval that each man, whether local or his own Peacekeepers, carried the same rifle slung over their shoulder. ARK produced their own weaponry now, no longer needing to wait on the Republic to produce enough to export. The main infantry weapon was the AW-30; the design was based off of a 7.62 mm rifle once carried by military and gangs all over the world. The heavily armed men each walked with confidence befitting rank and training. Anyone garrisoned here had been requested by the Romano family individually, but the Premier gave final approval. After all, they may be employed on Romano’s estate, but they were still ultimately Tony’s men.
Tony appreciated the look of the grounds, wishing he were here in the heart of summer when the green would be at its peak. He was a city boy through and through—the thought of living here gave him more cold chills than the wind did—but he could appreciate natural beauty in a park setting. The lawns rolled gently up towards sculpted bushes and trees, each separated by intricate stonework. The path they walked meandered towards an opening in the tree line, then once past that the great house of the estate was visible. Columns rose up two stories, exposing a grand porch accessible by stone stairs wrapping the entire span of the front. Tall wood frame windows were symmetrically placed around and above the entry doors, the white trim standing out against rust-colored paint covering the siding.
Great homes of post-Reset nobility usually began life as a commercial or governmental headquarters building. This had been the executive offices for a medium-sized insurance company before the collapse. Families preferred to build around estates or complexes a hundred years old or more, finding the structures to be more soundly built. Almost as important, buildings from that era were designed with electronics as a convenience, not essential for all operations. This complex offered plenty of great structures to house over one hundred staff and servants, bountiful local salvage, and a view of the Missouri River. Put all together, this gave the estate an almost mystical settin
g; a time machine to the antebellum age of the Deep South described so vividly in the history books.
“Welcome to Tarabelle Château, Premier Diamante.”
The voice broke Tony out a near dreamlike trance. He recognized the face as Elias Romano himself, standing at the foot of the stairs in full dress uniform. He was about average height, but the all-white uniform of a skyship Admiral and perfectly erect posture gave him a commanding presence. He removed his hat and took a measured step toward Tony, grasping the hand offered to him and kissing the large red stone with the letters A–R–K engraved across the top.
“Thank you, Admiral Romano. Your people have all been quite helpful. Sorry for the short notice, but it was important you and I speak face to face as soon as possible,” Tony replied as he lowered his hand back down.
“Of course, Premier. We are honored beyond words to have you on the grounds. I hope we can make your stay comfortable; our view is distinctly more rural than what you’re used to,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Though you can still see a grand river if you wish.” He pointed out towards the banks of the Missouri River, flowing quietly by within sight of the lawn.
“I won’t be staying, I’m afraid. Just time for a quick visit and then I’ll be on my out to inspect our progress in Kansas City.”
“I understand sir. My staff will be disappointed; they never expected to entertain you here, so they were thrilled when we got news of your arrival. Perhaps another time. Please follow me to the solarium, we can speak there if you wish.”
Tony followed Romano along a meticulously manicured path to the back of the house, finally coming upon what appeared to be a two story tall greenhouse. The lush green leaves inside suggested heat and constant watering, and the brilliantly colored blooms meant more than just the basic necessities were grown here. They stepped through the glass doorway, feeling the burst of warmth and humidity as it tried to rush out to join the cold air. You could hear the song of birds, though they must have been caged somewhere—he couldn’t see them from where he stood. Only the sound of water gurgling from a fountain in the center of the path joined the birdcalls to disturb the peace.
“You’ve used your estate allowance wisely, Elias. This whole complex is a fine reflection on your family, and an example of how an ARK Citizen’s residence should look.”
“The extra allotted funds this year were a pleasant surprise, sir. That allowed us to put in irrigation piping to the vineyards. By the way, bottles of our very first batch from four years ago are ready to release. I’d like you to have the first bottle,” Elias beamed.
“Second bottle will do. Keep that first one for yourself, it’s an amazing achievement. I’m impressed your losses were so light when pacifying the area. A rural estate this close to a decent-sized city, you must have been under constant attack.”
“It was touch and go at first. Skyships were a huge help keeping watch and tracking down nests of Rateaters.”
The fine gravel crunched under their boots and a few more steps brought them to an oversized gazebo. Impeccably dressed servants stood quietly, ready to respond to the commands of their superior. Romano pointed to the white wooded structure in front of them. “Please, sir, right over here. This is where I like to sit and speak with visitors; that is, when we have visitors. A bit more frequently now since you commissioned the other ten estates in the area.”
“I’m told that the staff of Tarabelle Château has been nothing but helpful to the new settlements. Thank you for that,” Tony replied. Reports were kept on all dealings between the estates, looking for signs of territory spats.
“Of course, sir. My family will always be grateful for everything you’ve done for us. Helping other ARK Citizens expand our nation is the least we can do to say thanks,” Romano replied. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t save more of Columbia’s infrastructure. We lost a lot of time having to rebuild that, but maybe with the additional settlements we can cooperate and salvage some of the fine old buildings there on the old campus.”
“I guess I should also say thanks for saving two of my skyships and their crews.”
The two men settled into high backed wicker chairs, arranged opposite but at a slight angle to provide views of the fountain. Romano’s smile had evaporated with Tony’s words. He wiped his eye, gathered himself and took a sip of hot tea offered by a servant.
“I’m not sure I can accept that gratitude, Premier. Though you offering such kind words means more than you know. Such brave men and women…such beautiful ships…gone in seconds. I never saw that plane coming…”
“Yet because you acted quickly, believed in the tactics, you were able to save your surviving ships.”
Romano said nothing else; he had no other words to offer. Tony sensed the man’s discomfort and moved on. “Is there anything else you have remembered about the incident? Anything you can offer to help me understand what happened. Perhaps a suggestion for preventing such an unpleasant surprise in the future?”
“I’ve run the thing over and over in my head, trying to figure out a way to fight back. We discussed this very scenario when I did joint training with the Red Hawks at Old Main. Their Raptor pilots used to give us a hard time, saying they could take our skyships down without any problem.”
“Did you believe them?”
Elias thought for a moment. “Yes and no. I mean, it was all hypothetical…we never imagined we’d be flying against anyone capable of mounting air resistance. The tactics we focused on had to do with avoiding ground fire.”
“But you still believe in the skyship program? You think there’s a way to survive even against fixed-wing craft?”
“Oh, definitely. I don’t know everything you have planned, Premier Diamante, but I can fill in the gaps on a map. Skyships are the only effective way to transport goods and people in a safe manner right now. Look at this place. Tarabelle would have never been possible without skyships.”
Tony nodded. “It will be several generations before traveling on the ground is truly safe. Even with armored trains.”
“I studied the plans for the German zeppelins used in bombing raids in World War I. I suppose we will have to mount weapons on the top of the skyships to at least keep attackers from lingering. Make their strafing runs more difficult?” Elias half-stated, half asked.
“Nicole and her engineers are working on something like that. She brought back the original plans for the Zeppelin L70 from the Republic’s Archives. We’re trying to match that up to the new AirLander 99s.” Tony leaned over to Elias. “You’ll get command of the first one if you wish.”
Before Elias could reply, he continued. “It was Nicole’s insistence that we ground the hydrogen skyships until we figure out a way to protect them. I’m thinking we go ahead with the gun mounts, but also give you a couple of planes to escort you.”
“Do you still think we should replicate the USS Akron, sir? Make our skyships flying aircraft carriers?”
Tony shook his head. “Nicole is convinced that’s ultimately impractical. Instead of the best of both worlds, our models tell us it’s just the opposite. Because we’re spreading out so fast, we need more medium-sized ships. The Akron class would take twice as long to build not even counting training. We don’t have enough fixed-wing pilots available. For now, we stick with our current strategy, just with a bit more modest goals.”
“Our skyship crews are up to the challenge, sir. I promise we won’t let you down.” Elias’s mood changed, a dark look replacing his calm demeanor.
“I’m looking forward to getting back out there. I’ve got some unfinished business with that squadron.”
Tony looked at his highest-ranking officer with confusion. “What squadron?” he asked. “I thought you said you were attacked by just one plane.”
“Just one, that’s correct. I just assumed she was part of a squadron because of the patch on her arm.”
Tony’s stomach twisted, afraid to ask the next question. “Please tell me it wasn’t a Red Hawk, or an Amer
ican flag."
“Oh no, of course not, sir. I’d recognize both of those right away. I put a description in the report, did you not see it?” Elias asked. “I can describe it again, if you wish. In fact, I think I’ll personally paint a green shield on every bomb we drop from now on.”
Tony’s brief relief turned to rage. Through clinched teeth, he squeezed out the question he already knew the answer to. “You’re telling me that the pilot wore a green shield insignia? Did it have a silver outline?”
“Yes it did, sir,” Elias replied. The murderous look on the Premier’s face startled him. ARK’s leader had a reputation for volatility. Their heretofore pleasant conversation inexplicably took a turn for the frigid. “So it was in the report? Otherwise how did you know sir?”
“Because I now realize who it was that destroyed our ships and killed our men. I need you to cable ahead to Kansas City. Tell them I won’t be making the trip out after all. I’ve got to return to the City immediately. And summon one of the skyships, I don’t want to wait for my train to turn around,” Tony commanded.
“Of course, sir,” Elias replied while summoning his aides lingering patiently nearby. “Let me take you myself, sir, in the Tulsa. She’s on 24-hour standby just off site. We can be airborne in an hour. I know we’re supposed to be grounded, but surely we can make the trip to the City.”
“Make it happen. And get me a secure cable right away. I need to speak to someone immediately.”
Chapter Twelve
Heimat Aronia Point
Personal Residence of Founder Alex and Rebekah Hamilton
Red Hawk Republic – Okaw Province
Year 12.09 A.G.R.
One Week after the Battle for Grand Tower Island
