Goliath (Leviathan Trilogy)

by Scott Westerfeld

  Dr. Barlow smiled. “Aha. You are in love, aren’t you, Mr. Sharp?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “With flying. You’re in love with the air.”

  Deryn slid down the rest of the way, then pushed herself back up without a pause, letting pain hide her expression. Nosy boffins and their clever lorises.

  Of course, it hardly mattered what Dr. Barlow was really thinking. Alek was gone, swept up in a distant world of power, influence, and peacemaking, maybe forever. How could someone who was in the newspapers every day have anything more to do with Deryn Sharp?

  “Don’t worry, young man. My duties with the Zoological Society involve a great deal of travel. You’ll see plenty of airships.”

  “I’m sure, ma’am.” Deryn sullenly reminded herself how lucky she was for the lady boffin’s offer of employment.

  Her close call with Malone had taught her one thing—if she were found out, it would humiliate her officers and shipmates. Deryn couldn’t risk that, and it was clear that the lady boffin’s shadowy Society was an easier place to keep secrets than the Air Service. In the Society, she reckoned, having more than one identity wouldn’t be a problem at all. Dr. Barlow had even joked that Deryn might need to disguise herself as a girl, every now and then.

  But it meant that Deryn hadn’t just lost Alek; she’d lost her home as well.

  She slid down the wall once more, ignoring the growing pain in her knee. She was desperate for one last climb in the ratlines before they headed back to London, Dr. Busk and his timid advice be damned. Nothing else in the sky measured up to the Leviathan.

  “Disconsolate,” the loris said softly.

  Dr. Barlow shushed it. “You should join us on the bridge, Mr. Sharp. The view may be interesting tonight.”

  “That’s right. They’re testing Goliath, aren’t they?” Alek’s latest letter had been full of excitement. “But I thought you said it wouldn’t work, ma’am.”

  The lady boffin shrugged. “I merely said that Goliath cannot call down fire from the sky. I would never suggest that Mr. Tesla is incapable of putting on a show.”

  When they were halfway to the bridge, the Klaxon began to ring.

  “Is that battle stations?” Dr. Barlow asked. “How interesting.”

  “Aye, ma’am, it is.” Deryn winced as she walked faster, wishing now that she hadn’t worked her knee so hard. “But it’s probably a drill. Sitting still for two weeks hasn’t done much for morale.”

  “You could be right, Mr. Sharp.” They both stepped aside as a squad of riggers thundered past. “But mightn’t the Germans think this a fine evening to strike?”

  “How do you mean, ma’am?”

  They started walking again, and the lady boffin said, “Mr. Tesla has warned the world to expect alarms and eruptions in the sky. Any mishap might be written off as his machine going wrong, especially if there are no survivors to tell the tale.”

  “No survivors,” the lady boffin’s loris said, and Deryn redoubled her pace.

  The Klaxon choked off in midring just as she and Dr. Barlow reached the bridge. The officers had gathered at the starboard windows, field glasses raised.A dozen message lizards were scampering across the ceiling.

  This was no drill.

  Dr. Busk turned from the windows and gave Deryn a nod. “I must admit, Mr. Sharp, I was beginning to doubt your story. But this is quite extraordinary.”

  Deryn stepped up beside him, following the stares of the officers. Below the Leviathan three trails of bubbles stretched across the water.

  She shook her head, trying to imagine giant machines beneath the surface, their legs thrashing in the cold and dark.

  “I’m a bit surprised myself, sir.”

  “The two escorts are no bigger than land corvettes, Captain,” the first officer was saying. “But the one in the middle must be the size of a frigate.”

  Deryn leaned out over the handrail, wondering how the man could tell so much from mere bubbles. The water was as black as pitch, and the trails looked like scattered diamonds in the light of the rising half-moon, too delicate to be exhaust from huge Clanker engines.

  The ruckus of battle stations filled the air, shouts and squawks and the roar of engines, and Deryn clenched the rail. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her whole body outraged to be here on the bridge instead of topside.

  “Our faith in you has been rewarded, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said from just behind her. “But do stop jittering.”

  “Like a barking monkey,” her loris said.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Deryn settled herself. If they sent her back to her cabin, she might well explode.

  “Less than a hundred feet deep here,” the navigator spoke up. Charts were spread out before him on the decoding table. “This is the shallowest water for miles, sir.”

  The captain nodded. “Then, let us begin our attack. Slow to one quarter, Pilot. Let the wind carry us over.”

  The thrum of the engines softened, and the airship began to drift to starboard. The trails of bubbles were just reaching a narrow channel among the islands at the entrance to Long Island Sound.

  “Those bubbles must be drifting as they rise,” the captain said. “How fast is that current?”

  The pilot lowered his field glasses. “About five knots, sir.”

  “And how long does it take for bubbles to rise a hundred feet?”

  No answer came, and everyone looked at the lady boffin.

  “That depends on their size,” she explained. “Champagne-size bubbles, as we’ve all seen, can take several seconds to travel an inch.”

  A moment of bemused silence stretched out, until Deryn spoke up. “These aren’t champagne bubbles, ma’am. They’re exhaust from barking great diesel engines. The size of cricket balls at least!”

  “Ah, of course.” Dr. Barlow stared down a Let thlack water. “Perhaps ten feet a second, then.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” the captain said. “Bombs away on my mark. Three . . . two . . .”

  The deck shuddered a bit as the weight of the aerial bomb fell away, sending a twinge through Deryn’s knee. She leaned out over the tilted windows, trying to see directly beneath the ship.

  For a moment there was nothing but the dark, flat ocean, but then a column of water shot into the air as the bomb went in. The detonation followed seconds later, a silvery flower opening in the moonlight. Finally the gasses released by the explosion reached the surface, rising up in a frothing white dome. Ripples tumbled out across the water, full-blown waves cresting and storming as they rolled across the shallows.

  “Bring us about,” the captain ordered.

  The Leviathan spun slowly in place until the bridge windows faced the channel again. The surface had stilled, and Deryn peered down, searching for exhaust trails.

  One of the machines was in trouble—its stream of bubbles was swelling, filled with pops and splashes. And then another giant dome of water rose up, white and boiling.

  “Secondary explosion,” the first officer announced. “That’s one of the escorts crushed by the shock wave.”

  “Fish in a barrel,” said the captain.

  Deryn tried to imagine the men inside the water-walker, fighting their hopeless battle to keep the ocean from gushing in. Now the other escort was failing, its exhaust stream sputtering in fits and starts. This one died with a whimper, though, its scattering of bubbles fading out to nothing.

  “That’s both the little ones, sir,” the first officer said.

  Deryn shuddered. It would be dark down there as lights and engines failed, and the water would be icy cold.

  She’d never seen combat from the serene vantage of the Leviathan’s bridge before. Running about topside, the horror of battle was lost in a swirl of excitement and danger. This felt inhuman, watching men die when she felt no fear herself.

  Not that her squeamishness made any difference to the sailors below.

  “The frigate’s made of sterner stuff, Captain.” The first officer turned fro
m the windows. “Shall we make another run?”

  Captain Hobbes shook his head. “Stand by, but stay at battle stations.”

  Deryn turned to Dr. Barlow and asked softly, “Why aren’t we finishing them off, ma’am?”

  “BOMBS AWAY.”

  “Because they’re underwater, Mr. Sharp. A German warship that can’t be seen is of no use to us.”

  “No use, ma’am?”

  “This is a Clanker attack upon sovereign territory of the United States. We can hardly let it go unnoticed.”

  Deryn looked down at Long Island Sound, her eyes widening. The exhaust trail of the surviving walker was still moving, following the coastline toward Tesla’s machine.

  “But we can’t just . . .” Deryn’s cry faded as she saw the eyes of the officers upon her. She dropped her eyes and said softly, “Alek’s down there.”

  “Indeed.” Dr. Barlow cleared her throat. “Captain, perhaps we should send a warning to His Highness.”

  Captain Hobbes thought a moment, then nodded. “If you would, Mr. Sharp.”

  Deryn snatched up a piece of paper from the decoding table and began to scribble. “It’ll take an hour for an eagle to get there!”

  “Steady, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said. “That walker’s barely making fifteen miles an hour. Half the speed of an eagle at night.”

  “But Alek thinks we’re protecting him, ma’am. He doesn’t know we’ll wait till that contraption’s on his doorstep!”

  The woman sighed. “It is unfortunate, but these are orders from Lord Churchill himself.”

  Deryn froze, making a fist around the writing pen. So this had been the plan all along, to destroy the last walker only after it emerged onto land. The Admiralty, of course, wanted a German war machine sitting on American soil for all the world to see, not some wreck lying beneath a hundred feet of water.

  This was all about dragging the United States into the war.

  But Goliath stood only half a mile from shore. The Leviathan would barely have time for one bomb run. If they missed, the water-walker would destroy Tesla’s weapon and everyone within.

  Alek was down there among the scattered lights of Long Island, without Deryn Sharp to protect him.

  Dinner was unspeakably tedious. The turtle soup had led to saddle of lamb in sauce béarnaise, and that in turn to

  breast of hazel grouse. Now that the cheeses were done, dessert was “black cow”—ice cream floating in something called root beer, a concoction that had sparked a childish glee in Mr. Tesla and Master Klopp.

  “A fencing lesson tomorrow, I should think,” said Count Volger, leaning back from the table and loosening the lower buttons of his jacket.

  “An excellent idea.” Alek stared at his unfinished dessert, his ice cream melting into slurry. He’d been too impatient to eat much, but his reflexes were growing rusty from parties and dinners. He needed the feel of a sword in his hand.

  Adela Rogers seemed to be in her element, though. She was holding forth at Tesla’s right hand, telling the host’s end of the table how Hearst had managed to wrangle his new movie deal with the famous Pancho Villa. She didn’t seem bothered that she was the only woman in the room. Indeed, she seemed to thrive on it. She was describing Hearst’s flattery and bribes of Villa as if it were a romantic adventure, giving her female viewpoint incontestable authority.

  Alek tried to imagine Deryn using the same strategy, if she were ever stuffed back into skirts. Could her swagger ever translate into the sort of flair and charm that Miss Rogers deployed?

  Perhaps, Alek thought. But Deryn would also be ready with a good solid punch if one were needed. He could testify to that himself.

  “Your Serene Highness?” It was a servant at his shoulder, presenting a letter on a small silver tray. “Just arrived by messenger eagle, sir.”

  The envelope was the apple green of the Leviathan’s stationery, and Alek’s name was written in Deryn’s hand. But she’d sent him a letter just yesterday. . . .

  Miss Rogers had paused, and Tesla was staring at him. Alek nodded an apology to them, then ripped open the letter.

  The writing was rushed, even worse than Deryn’s usual scrawl.

  Water–walker headed your way. You have an hour at most.

  The Admiralty are bum-rags, so we won’t engage till it reaches the shore. But we’ll be there.

  Take care,

  Dylan

  “Ah,” said Alek, his pulse quickening.

  “News from our friends on the Leviathan?” Tesla said. “They must be in London by now.”

  “No, sir.” Alek hesitated a moment, glancing at Miss Rogers—but every reporter in the world would know soon enough. “They’re stationed only fifty kilometers away, at the mouth of Long Island Sound.”

  A stir went round the table.

  “But why?” asked Tesla.

  “They’ve been watching over us. There were rumors of a German surprise attack.”

  “A surprise attack?” Tesla said. Then his face broke into a smile. “Your Highness, please tell Dr. Barlow that she is invited to observe my experiments at any time, no excuses needed.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not it, sir.” Alek held up the letter. “Their fears have proven correct. A German underwater walker will be here within the hour.”

  The table went silent, and all the guests turned to Mr. Tesla. The inventor stared at Alek for a long moment, then dropped his gaze to the table and began to rearrange his forks. “An underwater walker? What an absurd notion.”

  “They exist, sir. My man Klopp has seen working models.”

  Tesla looked at Klopp, who appeared to be only half following the English, then brought his dark eyes back to Alek.

  “How large is this machine?”

  “Large enough to destroy Goliath. Otherwise, why would the Germans bother?”

  Tesla spat out an angry noise and pushed away his dessert. “Pardon me, gentlemen and Miss Rogers, but unless this is some sort of joke, I must prepare my defenses.”

  Taking up his walking stick, he rose to his feet. The engineers jumped up from the table in unison.

  “Defenses?” Miss Rogers asked.

  “I am not naive, dear lady. I knew that the Germans would make plans against me.” Tesla waved in the direction of the compound. “That’s why Mr. Hearst provided us with that Pinkerton.”

  “But, sir,” Alek said. “That Pinkerton machine is designed to frighten workers on picket lines. It can’t stand up against a proper military walker.”

  The reporters had broken into a nervous hubbub, some of them heading for the doors out to the observation deck. Others were asking the waiters to take them to a telephone.

  Alek rose to his feet, waving Deryn’s letter. “All of you, listen. I am assured that the Leviathan is on its way. It’s more than capable of taking on a single walker.”

  Adela Rogers laughed. “So we should sit here and sip brandy?”

  “Not at all, miss,” Count Volger said. “We should retreat to a sensible distance and let the Leviathan handle this.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Tesla turned toward the stairs up to the control room. “I shall stop them myself!”

  “Sir . . . ,” Volger said, but the inventor ignored him.

  “It’s no use,” Alek sighed. “This is a man who took on three fighting bears with nothing but a walking stick.”

  “That hardly fills me with confidence,” Miss Rogers said.

  “Nor me. I’ll talk to him.” Alek made for the stairs. “If only to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.”

  “Your Highness,” Volger said. “We can still put some distance between us and this place, even if we have to walk.”

  Alek shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Volger. The Leviathan will protect us.”

  The control room was abuzz with shouted orders and sparking electrikals. The engineers were rushing about, wheeling equipment into a new configuration. Tesla was at the center of it all, a telephone receiver in each
hand and several more tucked under his arms.

  “Deploy the boats!” he shouted into one. “We’ll destroy them as they come out of the water!”

  He slammed a receiver down and glared at Alek.

  “How long have you known about this?”

  “As I said, it was only rumors,” Alek said calmly. “Mr. Sharp heard something two weeks ago.”

  “The very day we arrived in New York.” Tesla turned to the control room windows. The ocean was just visible in the distance, a silvery plane of reflected moonlight. “Every time I’m on the brink of a genuine discovery, someone tries to snatch it away.”

  “Sir, you needn’t worry. Mr. Sharp has assured me that the Leviathan will deal with this walker.”

  “Then, more will come.” The anger had left Tesla’s voice all at once, and he only sounded tired now. “They’ll keep coming for me, one way or another.”

  “That’s a bit dramatic, sir. These water-walkers are experimental weapons. I can’t imagine the Germans have too many of them.”

  “You don’t know what smaller men are capable of, Alek. Edison, Marconi, and now the kaiser!” Tesla began to place the telephone receivers back into their cradles, till only one was left in his hand. He lifted it to his mouth. “Boiler room? Please go to full.”

  “Mr. Tesla, we should abandon the test for tonight. Please!”

  “I am abandoning the test.”

  Alek frowned. “But you told the boiler room—”

  “Don’t you understand? These men, these little men, want to destroy my life’s work, to rob the world of everything Goliath will one day provide. Free power anywhere in the world, all of man’s knowledge coursing across the airwaves! I can’t allow that all to be snuffed out by this idiotic war.”

  The inventor turned to face the windows, his dark eyes gleaming, and Alek felt a cold drop trickle down his spine as Tesla placed the last telephone firmly back onto its cradle.

  “I’m afraid this is no longer a test.”