by Scott McKay
Reeves informed Sebastian that in ten days he’d be able to take delivery of the Wainwright, an airship built on the basic design of the Clyde and Ann Marie but with some key improvements, most notably in an increased top travel speed of 145 miles per hour and a significant improvement in cargo capacity due to a much larger cabin and use of hydrogen, rather than hot air, as a lifting gas. Reeves would be bringing the Wainwright down to Barley Point himself, and it would be loaded with armaments: Trunxton chain guns, Thurman rifles, mortar tubes, crates of a new invention called a hand grenade, land mines and much more. Being close to the battlefront, Sebastian would then be in a position to distribute the material to commanders in the field who needed it most, outside of the highly-politicized and bureaucratized Army central command.
In the meantime, the Clyde and Ann Marie would be covering and haranguing the enemy’s advance with the Trunxton guns they’d soon have mounted to their cabins. The biplanes would be patrolling Ardenia’s southern skies in search of the flock of blood raptors which had apparently been on the scene at Strongstead per messages Dees had received.
Dees also informed Sebastian that his ticket on the morning’s commercial locomotive was canceled. He was instead riding on a train chartered by the Office of Special Warfare along with his new boss, plus a security force of 300 ex-Army infantry and cavalry warriors privately hired and equipped with advanced weapons the enemy hadn’t yet seen.
“To make sure you don’t catch a Gazol in your sleep,” the General said.
The meeting broke up, with Gregg shaking Sebastian’s hand and wishing him well, and Reeves reminding him he’d be seeing him soon in Barley Point. His father gave him an embrace.
“I’m proud of you, son” he said. “Stay safe down there, do what General Dees says and your future is secure.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Sebastian responded. “I love you.”
Sebastian then followed Dees aboard his submersible, which headed back downriver for a few miles and left the Morgan for the Shelton River, a smaller tributary which joined the Morgan from the south just east of the Capitol District. Following the Shelton for two miles to the south, the craft then docked just across a thoroughfare from Belgrave Station.
“You’ll get to see some interesting toys now,” Dees said, leading Sebastian through the mostly deserted train station. It was three of the clock; no commercial trains would be leaving for another three hours and arrivals were only dribbling in.
After several minutes of hustling through the station away from its central hub the two came upon a train parked at Track Eighteen, an out-of-the-way berth clearly not favored by the commercial locomotive lines. Sebastian marveled at the engine, a sleek design without a smokestack, that Dees told him was powered by methanol and an electric battery. That was something he hadn’t known was possible. Dees further said the locomotive was capable of traveling in excess of 100 miles per hour on tracks which could support such a speed.
They walked along the tracks surveying the cars attached to the engine. There were four regular passenger cars, along with two first-class cars, that Dees said would accommodate the security force and engineers making the trip south.
Then came the flatcars, which contained a few other toys Sebastian hadn’t seen. For example, Dees was sending down twelve lorries like the one he’d seen in the basement of the warehouse, but these had chain gun emplacements mounted aft of their beds to offer superior firepower as well as high-speed troop and equipment transport. Sebastian also saw six artillery pieces which appeared to be land-based versions of the navy’s 100-pounder pivot guns, but of a lighter weight. These were four-inch breech-loaded guns with nine-foot barrels that could be either horse-drawn or attached to the lorries Dees was sending to Barley Point.
“Effective range of fire of just under seven miles,” the general said.
On another flatcar was a pair of four-foot calcium lanterns, which Dees said were excellent for use as searchlights to illuminate the enemy from a distance, especially from the air.
Finally, after a dozen boxcars loaded with ammunition and supplies, they came across a truly unexpected surprise on a flatcar. It was a motor sedan, a four-seat roadster with a convertible canvas cover.
“For speed and comfort,” Dees said. “You’ll have fun driving that contraption.”
“I can imagine,” said Cross. He’d had a motor sedan of his own until a couple of months ago, that he’d had to sell amid Airbound’s financial exigencies, but it had been nothing as sexy as this.
The two walked back toward the front of the train, and as they climbed aboard the first-class cars Dees pointed out Cross’ berth.
“Get some sleep, will you?” he said. “You look like hell.”
Entering, Cross noted he’d been provided with several Army uniforms in the wardrobe closet, and a case sat on the overhead bunk with a tag bearing the sign “Light Reading,” assumedly for the day-long trip to Dunnansport. It was after four of the clock, and the autumn sunrise was less than two hours away.
He climbed in the bunk without even undressing, and was asleep almost as his head hit the pillow. Cross didn’t even stir when the train left the station.
…
FORTY
Watkins Gulf – Noon (Third Day)
Aboard the sidewheeler, the Yarmouth’s crew had laid out a spread of barley bread, chicken broth and hot tea for the rescuees, along with converting its cavernous saloon into Ardenia’s largest dressing room. There, the rescuees picked through clothing items donated from the crews of Adelaide, Castamere and Louise to satisfy the requirements of the modern civilization they were happy to rejoin after two days in primitive captivity. That activity led to a swap meet of sorts, as the newly-clothed rescuees were then returning the items borrowed from the rescuers on the beach in what began to resemble a quite convivial, and greatly relieved, social gathering aboardship. Yarmouth’s folding ramp was locked back in its stowed position and the steamboat’s side-mounted paddlewheels began churning quickly in reverse, backing it away from the coast to the safety awaiting to the east.
As Yarmouth pulled away from the beach, Adelaide’s four lifeboats were being rowed in a similar direction. The Marines made quick time of closing the 1,000 yards through the increasing rain to the mother ship and, as Yarmouth executed a tight spin by reversing the direction of its paddles so as to point its stern forward, the lifeboats drew, one by one, to the side of Adelaide’s hull. The ship’s crew quickly attached lines to each boat as their occupants climbed rope ladders onto its deck, Sarah and Will getting help from the Marines in charge of their embarkation.
On deck, Terhune gave a salute to Patrick, and a handshake. “Flawlessly done, Commander,” he said. “And in particular, thanks for that late save on the cliffside. We might have been cut to pieces if you hadn’t solved that problem for us.”
“It was a close shave today,” Patrick said. “Everyone did their duty. You, young man,” he said, turning to Will, “put on one hell of a spectator sport on that beach.”
“This is my Lieutenant, Will Forling,” Terhune said. “He’s one hell of a cavalry officer.”
Patrick extended a hand to Will, who’d saluted him. “Outstanding, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Will. He reached for the commander’s hand to shake it, and noticeably wobbled on his feet.
“Let’s get this young man some medical attention,” Patrick said, as Will attempted to wave him off. He summoned a pair of crew members to escort Forling to Adelaide’s sick bay.
Sarah went with them as they hustled Will belowdecks.
…
The lifeboats secured, Adelaide took up a position flanking Yarmouth’s right as the two ships made their way east to Cotter’s Point, where they’d follow the coast north to Dunnansport. In less than a day they’d be on dry land on the opposite side of the Tweade, though nobody really thought that meant safety.
In his sea-cabin after personally supervising the billeting of his passengers in the state
rooms, the commander set to work composing two documents. The first would be a concise message to be circulated via the teletext wires as soon as Adelaide docked at Dunnansport, and the second, a longer report to be delivered to the Admiralty at Port William, Port Excelsior and Principia and every other military destination in Ardenia shortly thereafter. Patrick knew Terhune would be doing the same thing.
…
Will’s stay in the ship’s sick bay wasn’t a long one. After the ship’s surgeon gave him seven stitches on the gash below his left eye, she replaced his bandage with a new one treated with carbolic acid to guard against infection. The surgeon also prescribed a gallon of hot tea for what she suggested was dehydration at the head of his faint condition, and he was brought to a stateroom to clean up and rest for the journey back to Dunnansport.
Before Will found a bed to sleep in for the first time in four days, though, there was a bit of friction.
Sarah had accompanied Will to the sick bay, and she attempted to make herself useful as a spare nurse while his wound was dressed. Will was having none of that. He was crashing quickly from the adrenaline of the fight at the beach and the grief of his loss was finally beginning to hit him after more than a day of feeling little other than numbness as the battle raged. What Will did not need was for Sarah, who’d thought of him as a clumsy oaf since she was little, to see the show of weakness that he knew was coming as his energy and spirit left him.
So he chased her off.
“Sarah,” he said, as the doctor began working on him.
“Yes, Will?” she responded.
“Get out.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Leave me alone, will you?”
Shocked and furious, she did just that, storming out of the sick bay and running into Rob outside of the door.
“What happened?” he asked. “Is he all right?”
“Evidently!” she seethed, tears in her eyes. “He threw me out of there.”
Rob chuckled.
“What?” she demanded. “You think that’s funny?”
“A little,” he said, and then had the first good laugh he could remember.
After a few seconds, so did Sarah.
Rob advised her to go easy on Will, who had fought very hard not to break down after learning of the death of his parents during the expedition of the past three days. She didn’t know, though she certainly expected, that he’d lost his loved ones as well.
This is hard on all of us, she thought. But she wasn’t about to leave Will alone. Not anymore.
At that point she remembered she was wearing Will’s coat and nothing else, and decided it was long past time to rejoin the ranks of civilization. Soon she was in the shower of her stateroom scrubbing herself with the potassium-based “saltwater soap” Adelaide carried. The gray paste she’d been covered with the previous night had dried and become painful on her skin, and it came off only grudgingly in the hot alkaline water pumping through the ship’s plumbing system. Finally, she judged that she was passably clean, though it felt like she’d scraped away half her skin cells in the process, not to mention every hair south of her neck to go with them.
Sarah could clearly feel herself coming down from the high of the marwai the Udar had made her drink, and it wasn’t like an alcohol hangover. She just felt bone-tired, even after an invigorating shower. After forty-eight hours in a drug-induced haze where she could feel her judgement slipping away from her, Sarah was just grateful the rescue came when it did.
She’d had a couple of quick minutes on the lifeboat to talk to the Navy translator, Joe Broadham, and he’d asked her about the effects of the marwai, noticing that her lips had darkened and assuming that came from taking it. She’d quickly told him of the experience, and he’d answered that his mother had gone through the same thing.
“You’re Georgia Broadham’s son,” she realized.
“I am. And if I can help you in any way, just say so.”
Which he’d already done. A naval uniform was laid out on the bed for her, with a note from Broadham that said “No need returning this one; it’s a gift and maybe a collector’s item someday.” She figured that would suit her just fine, and after fashioning a scarf to cover the stubble atop her head she made her way to the ship’s mess. There she found most of the rest of the Adelaide’s passengers around a table.
The men stood at attention as she approached. Rob gave her a tight brotherly hug.
“Gentlemen,” she greeted them. They returned the greeting.
Rob then tried to make some formal introductions, which weren’t needed. She’d met the colonel through her father at the Barley Point Ball the previous year, and she’d met Latham on his previous trip to Hilltop Farm a few weeks earlier. Latham told the story of finding Ethan and Hannah, giving Sarah the good news that she’d meet up with them in Dunnansport, and Rob delivered the bad news about Uncle David, which made Sarah cry all over again. And Latham and Terhune also expressed their regrets about her brother Matthew at Strongstead.
It was an awful lot to take, and she made her excuses, saying she’d like to be alone for a little while if that was all right. Of course, was the unanimous response.
But Sarah had no desire to be alone.
She knocked on the door of Will’s stateroom, and entered without permission. It turned out that Will was a side-sleeper, something she hadn’t known about him.
“Go away,” he croaked, his back turned to the door as he lay in the stateroom’s small bed.
“I already did that,” she said, approaching the bunk and sitting aside Will.
“Sarah,” she heard him protest faintly, “leave me alone.”
“No, Will, I’m not going to do that,” she scolded him. “You’re more alone than you’ve ever been in your life. So am I, and so is Robert. Now’s not the time for us to be alone.”
He didn’t move. She pulled on his shoulder, trying to get him to roll toward her. He resisted.
“I want to see it,” she said, leaning over him and gently pulling at the bandage.
“Are you crazy?” he snapped, quietly. “Let it be.”
“Oh, come on. It’s my scar, after all.”
“Yours? How is it yours?”
“Because you got it saving me,” she said sweetly.
Will turned his head, ever so slightly, and squinted at her with his left eye. “I got it fulfilling my mission,” he mumbled.
“Which was saving me,” she asserted.
“Which was saving 367 people,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“Well, but none of them are more grateful than I am,” she said. “If you want, I’ll show you how much.”
Another look from Will’s left eye.
“There is something you can do,” he said.
“Oh? What is that?”
“Let me sleeeeeeep,” he croaked.
Sarah was taken aback, and gave a little frustrated grunt. But after a short pause, she cheerily responded, “Sure!”
And then kicked off her shoes and spooned up behind Will on the bed, throwing her arm over him and laying down for a nice, long nap. She needed it just as much as he did, after all.
In his sea-cabin, Patrick had finished his message for the wires, calling in an ensign to hustle it to the teletext as soon as they made Dunnansport. It said…
“367 FEMALE CAPTIVES RESCUED, EVACUATED FROM BEACH SOUTHEAST OF STRONGSTEAD. CITADEL FELL TO THE ENEMY 31 DAYS PRIOR, SENT FALSE TELETEXT MESSAGES MASKING UDAR CONQUEST. ENEMY CAPABLE OF WEAPONIZING RAPTORS, USED TO WIPE OUT STRONGSTEAD, NONE SEEN DURING DUNNAN’S CLAIM CAMPAIGN. ALL FORTS, CITIES SHOULD BE ON ALERT FOR AIR ATTACK.
“ENEMY ADVANCING TO DUNNAN’S CLAIM, AT MINIMUM DIVISION STRENGTH AND LIKELY LARGER FORCE, ALONG COAST, POSSIBLE RAT-LINES IN MOUNTAIN CAVES ALONG ROGERS RANGE. ADVISE FULL MOBILIZATION TO DEFEND EAST BANK OF TWEADE AND NAVAL BLOCKADE OF WATKINS GULF FROM COASTLINE SOUTH.
“UDAR PRISONERS TAKEN, INCLUDING ONE AGO’AN, BROTHER OF UDAR KING, AND EDYENE, DAUGHTER OF CAPTI
VE ANN LUDLOW OF MAIDENSTEAD, WHO HAS COOPERATED AND PROVIDED MUCH INTEL. EDYENE WISHES TO DEFECT, AM SUBMITTING POSITIVE REPORT TO DUNNANSPORT JUDGE ADVOCATE. AGO’AN ACCUSED OF MURDERING ANN LUDLOW, REQUEST TRIAL UNDER MARTIAL CODE.”
He’d have a lot more detail in the longer report he was writing, that he was bound and determined to finish before Adelaide made port.
“Commander,” Rawer said, “Castamere and Louise have pulled alongside.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said as the First Mate ascended to the bridge.
The four ships then sailed abreast, into the downpour with Yarmouth hugging closest to the shore as the convoy rounded Cotter’s Point and headed north.
…
FORTY ONE
Near the Mouth of the Tweade – Early Morning (Fourth Day)
It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but outside the window of Will’s stateroom aboard the Adelaide there were lights visible. Those were from the city of Dunnansport, which the ship was approaching from the south along with the three others in its convoy, and they were just bright enough to wake Will from a deep, necessary slumber.
He smiled, for the first time in a while, when he felt an arm draped over his side. That was Sarah, who had refused to leave him alone when he demanded it.
So that’s how it is with this one now, he thought. Well, she always has run hot and cold.
He reached over with his right hand and gently pulled on the pinky finger of the hand hanging over his shoulder. He heard her give a little squeal. So he pulled again, just a little harder.
“I let you sleep, you know,” she said.
“You did. Thank you.”
“I’m going to have to tell everybody I slept with you.”
“Funny. You’d better not. You’ll get us in trouble.”
“Well, it’s true. We did sleep together.”
“That’s right. You took advantage of me. What a loose woman you are.”
“A loose woman?” she gasped, feigning offense. “Why, Will Forling! You’re going to have to be a lot nicer to me than that from now on.”
