Behemoth

SEVEN

“Hear that?” Corporal Bauer asked.

Alek wiped his hands on an oily rag, listening. The air trembled with the distant clamor of an engine coming to life, sputtering at first, then settling into a low and steady roar.

He stared at the tangle of gears before him and said to his men, “Three against one, and Klopp has his engine working first!”

“Hate to say so, sir.” Bauer spread his grease-blackened hands. “But you and I aren’t much help.”

Master Hoffman clapped the gunner on his back and laughed. “I’ll make an engineer of you one day, Bauer. It’s that one who’s hopeless.” He glanced at Mr. Hirst, who was watching them glumly from the engine pod strut, his hands perfectly clean.

“What’s this about?” the man asked.

Alek switched to English. “Nothing, Mr. Hirst. Just that it sounds as though Klopp has beaten us.”

“So it would seem,” the man said, and fell back into silence.

It was late afternoon, less than forty-eight hours after the unlucky encounter with the Breslau and the Goeben. Alek, his men Hoffman and Bauer, and Hirst had been assigned to the starboard pod, while Master Klopp was over on the port side, under armed guard, with Count Volger translating for him.

Since the incident with the air pistol, it had been decided that Klopp and Mr. Hirst would no longer share the same engine pod. Alek was not under guard, but he suspected that was only because of the bandages wrapped around his injured rib. Every time he lifted a wrench, he winced in pain.

But no one was locked in the brig, at least. True to her word, Dr. Barlow had convinced the captain to accept reality—without Klopp’s help, the airship would drift on the winds. Or worse, the great airbeast might take them on a journey of its own choosing.

The captain’s goodwill had come with certain conditions, however. The five Austrians were to stay aboard the Leviathan until the Darwinists understood their new engines fully, however long that took.

Alek suspected they wouldn’t be getting off in Constantinople.

Half an hour later, the starboard engine finally sparked to life. As smoke poured from the exhaust pipes, Master Hoffman engaged the gears, and the propeller began to spin.

Alek closed his eyes, reveling in the steady thrum of pistons. Freedom might not be any closer, but at least the airship was whole again.

“Feeling all right, sir?” Bauer asked.

Alek took a deep breath of sea air. “Just happy to be under way.”

“Feels good to have an engine rumbling underfoot again, doesn’t it?” Hoffman nodded at Mr. Hirst. “And maybe our sulky friend here has finally picked up a few tricks.”

“Let’s hope so,” Alek said, smiling. Since the battle, Bauer and Hoffman had taken a dislike to the Leviathan’s chief engineer. After all, the two had been at Alek’s side since the awful night his parents had died, and had given up their careers to protect him. They hadn’t taken kindly to Mr. Hirst shooting at him and Master Klopp, mutiny or not.

Soon both engines were working in tandem, and the Leviathan set a northward course again. The water’s surface slid by beneath them faster and faster, until the airship had left behind its escort of hungry seagulls and curious dolphins.

Moving air tasted better, Alek decided. The airbeast had let itself drift most of the day, matching the speed and direction of the wind, wrapping everything in a dead calm. But now that they were under power, the salt air was sharp and alive against his face, driving away the feeling of being imprisoned.

“One of those talking things,” Bauer said, frowning.

Alek turned to see a message lizard making its way across the airship’s skin, and sighed. It was probably Dr. Barlow putting him on egg duty again.

But when the lizard opened its mouth, it spoke with the master coxswain’s voice. “The captain wishes the pleasure of your company on the bridge, at your earliest convenience.”

Bauer and Hoffman looked at Alek, recognizing the English word “captain.”

“Wants to see me at my earliest convenience,” he translated, and Bauer gave a snort. There wasn’t much convenient about climbing down to the gondola with a bruised rib.

But Alek found himself smiling as he wiped engine grease from his hands. This was the first time any of them had been invited to the bridge. Since coming aboard, he’d wondered how the officers controlled the airship’s interwoven complements of men, fabricated animals, and machines. Was it like a German land dreadnought, with the bridge crew directly controlling the engines and cannon? Or an oceangoing ship, with orders dispatched to the boiler rooms and weapon stations?

Alek turned to Mr. Hirst. “I leave you to it, sir.”

The man nodded a bit stiffly. He’d never apologized for shooting Alek, and none of the officers had ever admitted that Klopp had saved the ship. But as they’d started work that morning, Hirst had quietly turned out his pockets, showing that he wasn’t carrying a pistol anymore.

That was something, at least.

Alek found Volger waiting for him on the gondola’s main staircase.

It was strange to see the wildcount’s riding clothes spotted with oil, his hair tangled by propeller wash. In fact, Alek hadn’t seen Volger since the battle. They’d both been working on the engines every waking moment since Alek’s release.

“Ah, Your Highness,” the wildcount said, offering a halfhearted bow. “I was wondering if you’d been summoned too.”

“I go where the lizards tell me.”

Volger didn’t smile, just turned and started down the stairs. “Beastly creatures. The captain must have important news, to let us see the bridge at last.”

“Perhaps he wants to thank us.”

“I suspect it’s something less agreeable,” Volger said. “Something he didn’t want us to know until after we got his engines working again.”

Alek frowned. As usual the wildcount was making sense, if only in a suspicious way. Living among the godless creatures of the Leviathan hadn’t improved his disposition.

“You don’t trust the Darwinists much, do you?” Alek said.

“Nor should you.” Volger came to a halt, looking up and down the corridors. He waited until a pair of crewmen had passed, then pulled Alek farther down the stairway. A moment later they were on the lowest deck of the gondola, in a dark corridor lit only by the ship’s glowworms.

“The ship’s storerooms are almost empty,” Volger said quietly. “They don’t even guard them anymore.”

Alek smiled. “You’ve been sneaking about, haven’t you?”

“When I’m not adjusting gears like a common mechanik. But we must speak quickly. They’ve caught me here once already.”

“So, what did you think of my message?” Alek asked. “Those ironclads are headed for Constantinople, aren’t they?”

“You told them who you were,” Count Volger said.

Alek froze for a moment as the words sank in. Then he blinked and turned away, his eyes stinging with shame and frustration. It felt like being a boy again, when Volger had landed hits with his saber at will.

He cleared his throat, reminding himself that the wildcount was no longer his tutor. “Dr. Barlow told you, didn’t she? To show that she has something over us.”

“Not a bad guess. But it was simpler than that—Dylan let it slip.”

“Dylan?” Alek shook his head.

“He didn’t realize you kept secrets from me.”

“I don’t keep any …,” Alek began, but it was pointless arguing.

“Have you gone mad?” Volger whispered. “You’re the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary. Why would you tell our enemies that?”

“Dylan and Dr. Barlow aren’t enemies,” Alek said firmly, looking Count Volger full in the eye. “And they don’t know I’m the legal heir to the throne. Nobody knows about the pope’s letter but you and me.”

“Well, thank heaven for that.”

“And I didn’t tell them, not really. Dr. Barlow guessed who my parents were, quite on her own.” Alek looked away again. “But I’m sorry. I should have told you they knew.”

“No. You should have never admitted anything, whatever they’d guessed! That boy Dylan is completely guileless—incapable of keeping a secret. You may think he’s your friend, but he’s just a peasant. And you’ve put your future in his hands!”

Alek shook his head. Dylan might be a commoner, but he was a friend. He’d already risked his life to keep Alek’s identity a secret.

“Think for a moment, Volger. Dylan let it slip to you, not to one of the ship’s officers. We can trust him.”

The man stepped closer in the darkness, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I hope you’re right, Alek. Otherwise the captain is about to tell us that his new engines will be taking us back to Britain, where they’ll have a cage waiting for you. Do you think being the Darwinists’ pet monarch will be agreeable?”

Alek didn’t answer for a moment, replaying all of Dylan’s earnest promises in his mind. Then he turned away and started up the stairs.

“He hasn’t betrayed us. You’ll see.”

The bridge was much larger than Alek had imagined.

It took up the entire width of the gondola, curving with the gentle half circle of the airship’s prow. The afternoon sun streamed through windows that stretched almost to the ceiling. Alek stepped closer to one—the glass leaned gently outward, allowing him to peer straight down at the dazzling water slipping past.

Reflected in the window, a dozen message lizard tubes coiled along the ceiling; others sprouted from the floor like shiny brass mushrooms. Levers and control panels lined the walls, and carrier birds fluttered in the cages hanging in one corner. Alek closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the buzz and chatter of men and animals.

Volger gently pulled his arm. “We’re here to parley, not to gawk.”

Setting a serious expression on his face, Alek followed Volger. But still he watched and listened to everything around him. No matter what the captain’s news turned out to be, he wanted to soak in every detail of this place.

At the front of the bridge was the master wheel, like an old sailing ship’s, carved in the Darwinists’ sinuous style. Captain Hobbes turned from it to greet them, a smile on his face.

“Ah, gentlemen. Thank you for coming.”

Alek followed Volger’s lead and offered the captain a shallow bow, one suited for a minor nobleman of uncertain importance.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Volger asked.

“We’re under way again,” Captain Hobbes said. “I wanted to thank you personally for that.”

“We’re glad to help,” Alek said, hoping that for once Count Volger’s suspicions had proven overblown.

“But I also have bad news,” the captain continued. “I’ve just received word that Britain and Austria-Hungary are officially at war.” He cleared his throat. “Most regrettable.”

Alek drew in a slow breath, wondering how long the captain had known. Had he waited until the engines were fixed to tell them? Then Alek realized that he and Volger were smeared with grease, dressed like tradesmen, while Captain Hobbes preened in his crisp blue uniform. Suddenly he hated the man.

“This changes nothing,” Volger said. “We’re not soldiers, after all.”

“Really?” The captain frowned. “But judging by their uniforms, your men are members of the Hapsburg Guard, are they not?”

“Not since we left Austria,” Alek said. “As I told you, we had to flee for political reasons.”

The captain shrugged. “Deserters are still soldiers.”

Alek bridled. “My men are hardly—”

“Are you saying we’re prisoners of war?” Volger interrupted. “If so, we shall collect our men from the engine pods and retire to the brig.”

“Don’t be hasty, gentlemen.” Captain Hobbes raised his hands. “I merely wanted to give you the bad news, and to beg your indulgence. This puts me in an awkward situation, you must understand.”

“We find it … awkward too.”

“Of course,” the captain said, ignoring Alek’s tone. “I would prefer to reach some arrangement. But try to understand my position. You’ve never told me exactly who you are. Now that our countries are at war, that makes your status rather complicated.”

The man waited expectantly, and Alek looked at Volger.

“I suppose it does,” the wildcount said. “But we still prefer not to identify ourselves.”

Captain Hobbes sighed. “Then I shall have to turn to the Admiralty for orders.”

“Do let us know what they say,” Count Volger said simply.

“Of course.” The captain touched his hat and turned back to the wheel. “Good day, gentlemen.”

While Volger bowed again, Alek turned stiffly about and walked away, still angry at the man’s impertinence. But as he headed back toward the hatchway, he found himself slowing a little, just to listen for a few more seconds to the thrum of the airship at its heart.

There were worse prisons in the world than this.

“You know what his orders from the Admiralty will be,” Volger muttered out in the corridor.

“To lock us up,” Alek said. “As soon as he can do without our help.”

“Exactly. It’s time to start planning our escape.”