Swiftsure Story...

Chapter 1
The request came from a nobleman of Gotham. The Joint Board on Military Advancement had just been reconvened by Emperor Almonzo the 15th, and two of Almonzo’s least favorite officers were summarily placed on that board. Therefore, these two men found themselves riding in a stage traveling north of Midway toward Gotham. It was a relatively pleasant ride, as the sun was out, but the spring chill had not fully left the air. The driver was moving his team at a steady pace, and there were not too many holes and bumps on the road. This gave the two passengers ample opportunity to speak short, terse sentences toward one another, maintaining the permanent, tense scowl that had so much to do with inter-service rivalry.
Rear Admiral David Johnston was doing most of the listening, as his companion had much of the history of this region known by heart. He listened, and he might have even enjoyed hearing about the tales of yore, but he would have never admitted it to his companion, let alone himself. Therefore, when Brigadier General Nathan Remmers had finished telling a part of the history, he said, "You know, there’s only one thing wrong with this area. The Geography."
"Geography? Really? You’ve got to be kidding! There’s ample opportunity here for defense!" The Brigadier General was talking about the heights over the Great River valley, as the road they were on wound through that valley on its way up to Gotham. But his "friend" had something else in mind.
"No, I mean it’s too far from the sea. I feel, what’s the word? Dry." It was true, his skin was cracking just a bit, and it felt just a little too hot for him here in the middle of such a great landmass.
"You must be joking. There’s no way you can feel dry." The man who protested this never felt a monsoon around Dove Island, never went through a hurricane or a cyclone, but seemed to know something about how one could or could not feel moisture. Admiral Johnston was annoyed.
"Wouldn’t it be great if there was a way we could just bypass all of this land?"
"My dear comrade, why would one want to bypass this position? I see no military value in it."
The conversation continued with varying degrees of acrimony for another ten minutes. In the last two minutes, both men noticed something just at the range of audible sound. It was a faint buzzing, almost like the sound a Junebug makes on the ceiling on a hot Summer’s day, but much, much fainter.
Then, it grew steadily louder. Neither man had ever heard an alcohol turbine engine push a propeller through the air before. Had they been used to the sound, perhaps they would not have noticed it until it overpowered the noise made by the slight jostle of the horse-drawn carriage. But neither of them had ever heard anything like that humming. And it grew louder and louder to their ears.
The driver of the carriage noticed the exact same thing, and sat dumbfounded in his seat, looking up at the sky. He had enough sense to call for his team to halt, and at that point the humming became even more audible. Johnston, who was in the seat closest to the driver, leaned his head out the window and yelled at the man, "What are you doing? What’s going on?"
The driver said, "I see something, up in the sky..." That was about all he could say, for he was dumbfounded.
Johnston climbed out of the coach as the humming became even more pronounced, perhaps now it was more like a buzzing. Remmers followed him, not to be outdone by the Navy man. Upon examining the sky, what they saw amazed them completely. At first it was just a silver-white circle on the horizon, with long extensions to either side. There was another circle hanging down from each of those extensions. The whole thing seemed at first to hang there in the air, and then they both realized that it was coming straight toward them.
As it grew larger, all three men had the same reaction. Jaws dropped open, and hands went to their foreheads to shield the early Summer sun from their eyes in an attempt to see the object more clearly.
"It’s coming right for us!" said Johnston.
"How fast do you think it’s moving?" asked the stage driver.
"What is keeping it up there?" asked Remmers.
"Do you suppose, Remmers, that this is why we’re traveling up here?"
"I don’t know... I suppose it could be..."
The object was now clearly getting larger with every breath, and the horses were now quite troubled by the buzzing noise. But the brake held them in place. Although the driver was dumfounded, he was not dumb, and had locked the coach in place.
It was now apparent that it was not just a circle with extensions, but more of a cigar shape, and that there were several holes in the cigar shape that looked to be windows. It moved at incredible speed, faster than any coach, or any naval vessel, and the roar of the thing filled the sky. It flew straight over them, yet hundreds of feet in the air. As the shadow passed over them, a small package dropped out of one of the windows.
As it fell, it became apparent that it wasn’t a package at all, but a large number of small papers, stacked together in a bundle. As they fell, they separated out, and drifted to the ground. The cigar shaped vehicle executed a short turn and began to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. The whole event had taken no more then five minutes, and now the papers were drifting down toward the three men.
"May the Maker protect you both if you go after that thing, friends." The driver was the first to speak. Remmers walked over and picked up one of the papers that had fallen from the sky. It hadn’t come to rest more than fifteen paces from him. He picked it up and read it aloud, "Dear friends from the Joint Board on Military Advancement. I hope you liked my first demonstration. I’m looking forward to showing you more. Sincerely, John Halsey."
Johnston then noted, "That is amazing! Look at that thing go! Don’t you imagine how it could make transport that much better?" It was now just a speck on the horizon.
Remmers was nonplused. "It was a cheap parlor trick. I doubt it if we find any military use for the thing, but it was amazing."
The driver was more practical, "He could have dropped anything on us, a cannon ball, a grenade, anything..." He signaled his willingness to go on by climbing up to the driver’s seat again. The other two got back into the coach, now having a different subject to debate.
"The Army will never need things like that. We walk wherever we go, and frankly that’s the best. Just think, with things like that you would only get somewhere with part of your force. The Army needs the whole Army to function properly."
"In the Navy we’re used to functioning in small contingents..."
"Yes, but what war has the Navy ever won? You just explore new lands for the Army to conquer."
"But imagine the exploration we could do in that kind of a vehicle!"
"Yeah, but let’s also hope when we get to Gotham that whoever this John Halsey is isn’t plastered on some roadway amidst twisted wreckage. What’s more, let’s hope we don’t end up the same way..."
The banter between the two went on for the next two hours as they came closer and closer to Gotham. It was apparent that the Navy man was more amiable to the suggestion of a flying ship, while the Army man didn’t think it was practical at all.
* * *
Upon reaching Gotham, the driver stopped in at the coach post and only had to ask one question. "Where is John Halsey?" Everyone within earshot turned toward the driver. "He lives with his father in Castle St. Alvin." "He’s been building those strange contraptions for years. Do your travelers want to stop him?" "What are you going to do with John?" Everyone there seemed to know John, and what is more, they respected him. They bristled with a mixture of excitement and protective zeal.
"No, I don’t think they want Mr. Halsey to stop, but they do want him to demonstrate his vehicle... One man is from the Army, the other is from the Navy."
"Well, see to it that they treat John right. He’s a good man, just a bit, er, strange." "Yes, he helped me count my cattle a year ago. Got an accurate count from the air. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen, but amazing..." "He delivered my marriage proposal two years ago. Landed on the main street of Midpoint with everyone watching. It was something else." "You treat John right..."
"Will do, and thank you..." The driver was astonished, but he could understand the idea that Gotham had her hometown heroes. Everyone left what they were doing and walked with the driver out the door, and watched him as he climbed back onto the coach and drove toward St. Alvin’s Castle.
Remmers and Johnston were in two separate moods. Remmers was still bristling from the conversation they had on the road, still thinking that there was no place for this advancement in the military, or especially in the army. Johnston, however, was completely happy, excited as a school boy, to see what Halsey had produced. He himself wanted to ride the thing, if that’s what you did with it... It seemed like magic to him.
Remmers noticed Johnston’s wistful gaze. "You can’t possibly be thinking about going on that thing, Johnston. It isn’t safe. The admiralty wouldn’t think kindly of one of its rising stars crashing to pieces in a wreck."
"Oh, the admiralty has passed me by time and time again... I don’t quite care what they might think about me, I can handle myself."
"Let’s make a wager about that, in the spirit of inter-service cooperation... How about five gold crowns says you loose control over your stomach in that contraption?"
"I have never been seasick! I have never turned green on any voyage, and I resent the implication! I’ll see your five and raise you ten!"
"Fifteen crowns it is, then! I’ll examine the machine after you ride in it, and I’ll interview Mr. Halsey..."
"Whatever the case, you’re off the mark concerning that thing, you ground-pounder. It has military implications aplenty. You just wait. By the time you make Major General, you’ll be ordering troops around with those things..."
"Ha! I’ll pay you fifty crowns when that comes true..."
Neither man was sure whether Remmers meant becoming a Major General or directing his troops with some kind of flying contraption. But their discussion was cut short by their arrival at St. Alvin’s Castle.
A man in a brightly colored suit came down to greet them. It was the sort of clothing a man would wear to a party, or to a formal court reception where there were ladies and such. It was really a gross display of good taste that Johnston wholeheartedly despised. Remmers, however, had been to many state functions as an Army man, and had come to expect nobility to dress that way. He himself secretly wanted to do so at times, for the ladies fawned over men dressed like that. The man on the steps of the castle was accompanied by several men who were servants, it seemed, and a guard wearing an old-style Gothamian uniform, with white front, grey pants, and a red hat. Remmers scowled, but the conditions of occupation said that the nobility could still equip their troops in the old style. Gothamia had been a Bertonian possession for years now, and there was nothing that was going to change that here. Nobility had small forces out of habit more than anything else. If they ever trained, it was in an old antiquated museum style.
The man now walking down to greet the coach was obviously Lord Halsey, the nominal ruler of Gotham proper, and Gothamia in general. He was, of course, the direct descendant of Alvin the Great, ruler of Gothamia in the golden ages. But his country had long been absorbed by her much more powerful neighbor to the south. He didn’t seem to mind too much, as he approached the coach with a meaty hand outstretched. "Did you see our little welcome, gentlemen?"
"That was amazing!" said Johnston, as he got out of the coach and took Lord Halsey’s hand in a firm grip. The man’s hand was not as soft as he imagined. Nobility didn’t seem to take away a man’s callouses, and if that was the case, then this man was truly a man. Although his dress did not agree with Johnston, the man who wore the clothing did.
"We’ve just been talking about the practicality of the thing, though..." said Remmers as he stepped down. He too took the man’s hand and bowed slightly.
"Well, as for practicality, I will tell you that there is nothing like my son’s invention. I am very proud of him. He’s been working on this idea for some nine years now, and I’ve supported him all the way. If we had these things about seventy years ago, perhaps it would be Bertonia that would be a part of Gothamia!"
Both military men bristled at this suggestion, but Johnston was less taken aback by this. "So you think this contraption could be made into a weapon?"
"My good men, I wouldn’t have sent for the Joint Board on Military Advancement if I had thought otherwise. Just wait." He motioned for them to follow him, and they all walked up the steps and into the opulent trappings of Gothamian nobility.
After moving through three rooms each gilded in a different scheme of color and carving, they walked into the backyard. To call it a backyard was to do it a dis-service, however. It was more like a garden. Not a pedestrian garden of vegetables, but a large public garden you would see in a large city. Although this garden was better cared for and larger. Walking through it was like walking through a paradise. Several servants were busy taking care of the various plants and trees that grew there. The grass was meticulously trimmed and the hedges were perfectly formed. While this was all lost on Remmers, Johnston took it all in. Obviously the gardener had an eye toward detail.
"How do you like my gardens, gentlemen? I myself work hard tending them at times. It is a joy to work the ground."
"They are amazing, sir..." said Johnston.
But he was cut off by Remmers, who said, "I take it that you have lots of time on your hands..."
"Well, I suppose I make time for what I deem important. I don’t do all the work here, as you can see." He was pointing to a number of workers. They all appeared to be happy and well fed. "But I am a busy man. Administering Gothamia is not an easy task, especially if one does it well."
They couldn’t argue with that. Johnston thought that if this man did as good a job with his nation as he did with his garden that Gothamia was indeed a good place to live. He had heard so in the past, and whatever he saw at this point seemed to confirm it.
"When my son was sixteen years of age, he came to me asking for a workshop. I hadn’t the space in the mansion at the time, so I decided to give him part of my garden. I told him that he could build anything he wanted here in this corner, and he was grateful."
They continued walking down the path and came to a large structure that loomed even above the trees. It had a system of beams and girding that seemed to keep it in the air, although both Johnston and Remmers were unable to understand exactly how the structure stayed there. It measured some five to six stories tall, and was as long as two ships of war lined up end to end. Johnston concluded that he could probably entirely fit his last command inside the building.
"Here is where you will meet my son. He spends most of his time here. It’s his passion to work on these contraptions, and I think you will find this most interesting..." He opened the door, and both men realized in an instant that there was just one single floor to this building. The ceiling was so high that there could not be another higher floor. The next thing they noticed was the sheer size of the area, lit by skylights above. It was a large room! There were also various parts and pieces of equipment neatly strewn about the floor. Some were large, others were small. Some they could understand, some they could not. Johnston had seen pulleys work before, and he knew how rudders worked. But there were also huge bocks of iron and gears and tanks and things that he had never seen before in his life. And then they noticed that looming above them hung the air machine they had seen earlier that morning. They were amazed by the size of the thing! It was the size of two and a half warships, easily. It made Remmers feel terribly small, but it filled Johnston with exhilaration.
"Thank you for coming, gentlemen!" A voice the likeness of Lord Halsey’s greeted them from somewhere under the belly of the contraption.
"Ah, there’s my son." Said Lord Halsey. "I will go back and continue my service to the state. Please feel free to ask him any questions you might have."
"I’ve long waited for this day. I trust that your ride north was, er, eventful?" The voice came from underneath the huge contraption, almost like he was inside it and there was a hatch beneath it.
"Well, you are right about that, my good sir..." Remmers reacted toward the noise of the man’s voice, and didn’t quite know what to say.
The young man that climbed out from under the machine was clad in leather and was wearing goggles. He was thin, almost slight of figure, and not tall. His sandy blonde hair was unkempt and bunched up by the strap of the goggles he was wearing. But for all of that, there was a gleam in his eyes that both Remmers and Johnston respected. It was the gleam of a man who had seen the future, and was passionate about his vision.
"What did you think of our demonstration today?"
Remmers was the first to speak. "It seems you found us easily... Is it easy to navigate in the air?"
"When you know the countryside, it is."
Johnston then chimed in, "What about speed? How fast does she travel?"
"Oh, when I’m taking off, I can travel anywhere from 45 to 60 knots, but at full throttle and at altitude, we can go as fast as 130 knots. I’m sure I can build one that goes faster, I just haven’t found the right engine."
Remmers and Johnston were floored. "130 knots? Really?" said Remmers.
"He was approaching us rather quickly, my good man." said Johnston.
"What can you take with you?" asked the man from the Army.
"Well, on this model I figure we can carry some one thousand pounds of equipment or personnel. But I’ve got plans for a bigger model."
"How long can you fly on all of that?" said Johnston.
"It’s not so much a question of how long, but how far. With a good breeze at my back, I suppose I could fly down to Johnston and back. And the trip would take about an hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes."
"No, that can’t be true." Said Remmers.
"Remmers, think for a minute. We traveled at about ten knots coming here overland in a carriage. Think about traveling thirteen times as fast. If it can be done, I don’t know, but I’d sure like to find out."
"And find out you shall, my dear Admiral Johnston. As we speak, we are refueling the ship. Whenever you like we can take her up."
"How does that, er, work?" Johnston was curious.
"Well, you sail a ship, right?" He had obviously noticed the naval uniform."You know that the wind is powerful. About one quarter of the strength I need to keep my contraption flying is wind power. I have to make my own wind by thrusting air backward and gaining speed. The rest of the lifting strength I need comes from the new gas I’ve discovered called hydrogen. It is powerful, but explosive." Halsey was a man who could have been a good teacher, if he were not such a good inventor.
As he was talking, Remmers got his pipe out and struck a match. He was overwhelmed and needed a smoke to calm his nerves. It was a bad habit he had developed while on post in Blemia all those years ago. But the young Halsey heard the match strike and leapt like a cat toward the sound.
"No!" He smacked the match away from the front of the pipe. "You don’t understand, hydrogen is explosive! There’s enough hydrogen here to destroy this building!"
"Where is it?" Remmers, shocked, looked around as if he were looking for gunpowder or shells or a big box marked "Hydrogen-Explosive!" in big bold letters. But there was none. .
"It could be in the air, if there’s a leak in the air-sack of my invention. The only sign we’d see is a huge fireball, and then you would never get to ride in my machine."
Remmers put away his pipe and said, "Your father is convinced of the military applications this contraption could have. I don’t know if the army would be wanting an explosion risk around..."
Johnston, however, sarcastically responded, "Oh, neither the army nor the navy likes explosives. Just think of what we would be with explosives! We’d have powder for our cannon! That would be a travesty..." He could have gone on, but he stopped. Sarcasm would get him nowhere. He didn’t need to convince his friend, that was Halsey’s task.
"Admiral Johnston, there are risks, it’s true. But the benefits I think outweigh them. It’s for the two of you to decide whether I’m right or not." He stepped on the smoldering embers of the match that had fallen to the floor of the room.
"What fuels your ship?" asked a more together Brigadier Remmers.
"Pure Alcohol. The engine is a piston dynamo construction that ignites the alcohol while it is under pressure. It makes a forceful explosion there and propels the piston driving an offset shaft. If you can synchronize four such pistons you have enough force to drive something I call a propeller. It makes the wind necessary for that lifting strength I was talking about..."
"Wait a minute," said Johnston. "I’m not clear how wind can lift something like that. It doesn’t seem possible. I’ve seen wind work before, but..."
Halsey cut him off... "Admiral, have you ever run your hand through water?"
"Well, yes, I suppose I have..."
"If you run your hand through water and curve it slightly, you feel your hand drawn toward the curve of your hand. My contraption does the same thing with the wind. That’s how it works."
"I’d sure like to see it work..." said Remmers. "But I still think it’s just an expensive parlor trick."
"Well, I’ll show you everything."
* * *
Young John Halsey was as good as his word. The trio examined every part of the airship. Both of the men were impressed with the construction quality. The young man had surely come far in his nine years of inventing. The inside of the ship was spacious, but only contained one deck. It had an engine compartment where one four cylinder engine drove the two propellers which hung out on the canvas covered wings. The rudder and other control surfaces of the ship were connected with a wheel like you would find on a naval vessel. Only one also had to control the surfaces that moved the ship up and down. Therefore, the wheel was able to tilt. Pulling it back toward you would make the ship go up, pushing it away from you would make the ship go down. It was ingenious, they all agreed.
The cockpit of the ship was the most amazing, however. There you could see every indicator you wished. There was an anemometer right outside the cockpit to measure the airspeed, a fuel gauge, and an engine speed indicator. "Everything you might need to fly the ship." said Halsey. His companions were astounded.
They inspected the landing wheels and thought that they were worthy innovations in themselves. They had cast iron springs and looked like they could absorb quite a shock. Each of the wheel trucks had four re-enforced carriage wheel with iron axles. It seemed like the whole contraption was so huge and heavy that it could never fly. Had they not seen it in the sky that morning, they would never have believed that it could take off. Even so, they were skeptical.
"When do we get to experience this machine in action, Halsey?" Johnston was eager.
"Our tour has taken some time. It is best to fly only during the day, for night navigation presents some significant problems. Tomorrow morning, my good man. We’ll show you the whole surrounding countryside."
"What I still don’t understand is how this machine could be so light. I can’t imagine how you could make it fly." Remmers wondered.
"Well, Brigadier, part of it has to do with how I was producing the hydrogen to make it fly. I read in a scientific journal from Salmonia that you could produce hydrogen by passing electricity through water. It worked so well that I filled the gas-bag you see above you."
Johnston didn’t quite understand how that had anything to do with the strength or the lightness of the machine. "I don’t follow..."
"Well, that’s because I haven’t told you everything yet... I was experimenting with this ultra light metal known as aluminum. Have you heard of it?"
"That stuff is worth its wight in silver! Your family must be rich..." This time it was Remmers who added to the conversation.
"Yes, it is not cheap. But I found a way that one can extract it from bauxite using electricity. It was an accident, but it worked wonderfully."
"Hold on a minute, where do you get your electricity?" Johnston had seen electricity work before, but just as a parlor trick. The small sparks or shocks put out by an electro-stat didn’t seem to do anything but make one’s hair stand on end.
"Well, we are able to produce quite a bit here because of a dam my father built when he was my age. He first used the water stored there to run a flour mill, but when I started tinkering with engines and inventing, he let me hook up a dynamo to the wheel. When you put electricity with bauxite, the end result is this." Halsey picked up a shiny piece of metal that both of them would have taken for polished iron, but it was obviously different. He tossed it at Johnston, and Johnston caught it easily. It was lighter than any metal he had ever held before. It almost felt like a heavy piece of wood in comparison.
"Amazing. You’ll have to show us all of this set up, Mr. Halsey..."
"Call me John. Don’t worry, I’ll show you everything..."
* * *
The next day was a clone of the day before, although it was a bit hotter. Remmers woke up earlier than Johnston, still carrying with him that internal clock that was imposed upon him in his training years. Walking around the opulent castle was like walking through a maze, but he found the kitchen by following his nose.
"Ahh, General Remmers, good for you, you found the kitchen!" It was Lord Halsey.
"Yes, sir, may I have something to eat?"
"But of course! What would you like? We have eggs, bacon, grits, or whatever else you might want..."
"Some eggs please, and bacon..." The servants seemed to come out of nowhere and set about making his breakfast.
"What did you think of my son’s contraption? You seemed to spend the whole afternoon with him."
"Well, yes, I think it might be a good thing. I’m skeptical, however, and I’m sure that many in Ox-Ot will be skeptical as well. This is a new idea, and new ideas don’t go over well when the old ones serve just as well."
"I fear, my dear general, that the only way we will find that the old ideas serve poorly is if many thousands of men die. But then again, I am not a prophet. All I do is make sure my people are happy, well fed, and enjoy life. Beyond that, I’m just a puppet, and I don’t mind it too much."
"Well, if I can speak for my companion, I must say that we both enjoy your hospitality."
"Thank you for your kind words."
Just then, similarly led by his nose, Johnston walked into the kitchen. "Today is the big day." He said with a boyish grin on his face. Remmers rolled his eyes as Johnston fawned, "Your son is quite the scientist. I’m looking forward to working with him."
"It seems the Navy is sold on your son’s contraption, even if I’m skeptical. Hopefully for him, and for you, the emperor will see it like the Admiral." Remmers was trying to be diplomatic. He needed convincing.
"Don’t worry, my good man, we’ll show them all." Young Halsey just came in the door from the garden. It seemed that he rose earlier than the sun. Or maybe, the thought crossed Remmers’ mind, he didn’t sleep at all. That would be great. They would all die in a terrible crash because a young man was too excited to sleep and made a terrible decision in the cockpit of the first and last airship ever built. Well, he always wanted to be in the history books. But this would be an ignominious end.
"Let’s get breakfast over-with, I’m excited about this ship..." Johnston was calling it a ship again. The four of them ate the rest of their breakfast quickly, both with anticipation and not a little apprehension.
* * *
After the abbreviated breakfast, the four men walked out to an area of the large structure that they had not seen the day before. There was a great door there, and it was hanging open on huge hinges. It looked as if engines were needed to open and close the doors, but young Halsey showed them the counterweights. The airship was positioned so its prow faced outward. Johnston wondered if that was the correct terminology for an airship. Then he figured that it didn’t quite matter all that much.
Remmers walked up to the front of the thing and asked Halsey, "Well, what assurance can you give us that we won’t crash, young man?"
Halsey walked up to the hatch that was on the underside of the great contraption. He pulled the lever and the stairway dropped down to the ground. Then he began climbing the stairway and said, "Well, I suppose you’ll just have to take this one on faith, dear Brigadier. But just think. If I’m willing to risk my neck, perhaps it’s safe."
Johnston followed the young man up the stairway and said, "Remmers, have some sense and get on as quick as you can. I’m not going to wait around for you."
Lord Halsey passed Remmers and climbed up the stairway as well. "Last chance, my good man."
Remmers huffed, rolled his eyes, shrugged, and then found himself boarding the thing without further ceremony.
Young Halsey was in the engine room, tinkering with the alcohol engine. Johnston saw him setting the gauges and walked over toward that room after examining the windows overlooking the wing. "So, what are you doing right now?"
"I’m preparing the engine for startup. Things have to be done just right, or else the engine will be damaged. This gauge here is for oil pressure, that one is for fuel flow, and that one is battery power. They’ve all got to be just right, or else we won’t be able to fly very far."
"Well, how do they look?"
"It looks like everything is in order. Will you help me start the engine?"
"Sure!" Johnston’s enthusiasm once again caused Remmers’ eyes to roll, but he couldn’t help it.
"As I turn this crank here, push this button. It gives power to the spark producers so the engine can start." The two things were actually very close together, and it was apparent that Halsey could have done the deed himself. But he was also a master at selling his machine. So, Johnston pushed as Halsey cranked, and the engine roared into life.
The vibrations of the engine and the sheer power which it produced exhilarated Johnston. The noise was overpowering as well. Halsey motioned to him, which was the only way he could get Johnston’s attention after the engine start. Johnston followed where Halsey pointed and found that after the young man closed the door, the noise was less oppressive and they could talk just above the normal voice levels.
"That thing is loud!" said Remmers.
"Well, it has to be loud for it to push us into the sky." Lord Halsey had obviously been up in this contraption before. He walked quickly to the front of the machine with the eagerness of a schoolboy and the energy of a cat. Young Halsey followed him, closely followed by Johnston and Remmers.
In the cockpit of the machine, the engine’s drone was muffled enough for the team to speak normally. "Well, here we go, gentlemen. Please hold onto the straps above, and get a sure footing. We’ll be taking off from the ground rather soon." Young Halsey stood at the front of the cockpit, holding onto the great wheel. He pushed it down and pulled it up, checking the tension in the wires. It was therefore sufficiently proven to him that the control surfaces of the vast craft were indeed there and connected properly. Then he ceremoniously took hold of the large lever to the right of the wheel and pulled back. The craft lurched a bit and began rolling out into the large meadow.
"I sure hope you’ve checked this meadow for holes and mounds and soft spots." It was Remmers again.
"No fear, Brigadier. I’ve taken off and landed here about fifty times. And there hasn’t been rain here for about two weeks..." Halsey then pushed a lever to the left all the way up toward the front of the ship. The engine in back seemed to roar, and the humming sound was now terribly pronounced. It took a second, but then the whole ship began moving faster and faster over the ground. The meadow began whipping by faster than a horse could gallop.
It seemed rather frightening at first. Remmers had never moved this quickly before, and he was sure that Johnston had never moved this fast either. But as he looked over to his companion, he realized that the man was not scared at all. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear!
The straps that hung overhead became apparent in their function at that time. The field, although it was rather smooth as fields go, was not perfectly so. The increased speed made for much jostling and bumping. In mid-jostle, Remmers almost missed grabbing the strap, but in the end held fast. He was the only one who grabbed at the strap with both hands, and was therefore a bit embarrassed. But noone else noticed. The noise of the craft and the bumping of the ground increased and increased until one could almost not stand it at all. But then, all of a sudden, young Halsey pulled up on the great wheel and all of the bumping and jostling stopped. Even the noise began to change as the whole ship angled upward at about nine degrees. Remmers could see the tilt indicator on the wall, for his view was plastered there for a few brief moments as the ship climbed. He was annoyed at himself for calling it a ship.
Johnston gave a gasp and a cry of exhilaration. "We’re up!"
"Yes, we are. Welcome to the third dimension, gentlemen..." Young Halsey was both excited and professional.
The front window changed quickly as the airship gained altitude and airspeed. At first, they could only see the land if they leaned forward quite a bit. But then, after they gained sufficient altitude, young Halsey leveled the ship off a bit and put her into a neat turn to the right.
Johnston was the first to notice that when the ship turned, it had to tilt to the side. He was very much at home with this, for he was used to the tilting and pitching decks of seagoing vessels. He was not used to this kind of a view, however. The highest he had ever been from the ground or sea had been when he climbed the mast of the flagship "Princess" as a midshipman. Now they were four or five times as high, and climbing even as they turned. But the view was marvelous!
They had taken off to the north and were now angling around toward the east. As Johnston was on the right or starboard side of the craft, he could see everything on the ground. Outside his window all of Gotham was laid out before him. He could see the dam and the power generating station that the Halsey’s built. He saw the river, and the river road, and he sensed that he could even make out Midway as a discoloration on the horizon. That was over forty miles away.
"How come I can see further up here, John?"
Halsey was impressed that his passenger noticed. "We are higher in perspective than we were before, my dear Admiral. You know that it’s always the crow’s nest that sees ships first, and that the first thing visible of another ship is her masts. Well, that’s because our planet has a curve to it, like a big ball. Therefore, the higher you go, the further you can see."
Johnston thought that he should have realized that, but didn’t chasten himself too severely. Remmers just held onto his strap and looked out at the tilting view in front of him. He knew they were turning, but he was also doing some turning of his own.
Lord Halsey looked at him and noticed that his face had turned as white as a sheet. "Brigadier, are you alright?"
Remmers didn’t respond at all, but put his hand to his mouth, as if to stifle something. Johnston looked at him and smiled. "Well, Remmers, don’t worry. One in two people has problems with the motion of a ship. You’ll get used to it, if you try."
He called it a ship again. No wonder the Navy was so enthused about this thing. Well, Remmers thought, we’ll just see what happens in the future. Then, all of a sudden, he felt even sicker. "I think I’m going to be sick..."
Lord Halsey moved him toward the window almost in time. About one third of the noxious fluid fell in the cockpit, while the rest hurtled a couple thousand feet to the ground below. The eruption of the bacon and eggs was not the most pleasant thing that happened to Remmers that day, but it did bring some amount of peace to his stomach.
The other three men were to amazed at what they were doing to comment. Johnston helped his companion’s hands grab the strap again as the ship leveled on a course due South Southwest, straight down the river.
They flew over barges, fields, and little towns along the way. Sometimes people stopped what they were doing and looked up at the great thing humming through the sky. Remmers and Johnston had just traveled this way the day before, and it was the same flight plan that young Halsey had used to drop the leaflets that had so impressed the coach driver. But this time they were going further.
They passed over Midpoint, the small city that was roughly half-way between Gotham and Apocalypse City. The people there all got out of their houses and stared into the sky. From one corner of the city, shouts and applause rang out, and then the whole city seemed to celebrate. Johnston smiled down on them. Young Halsey remarked, "Well, that’s rather nice of them. I suppose they may be applauding the ensign that I had painted on our ship last night. It is, of course, the Bertonian flag."
After passing Midpoint, the ship continued to follow the road. On the horizon now one could see an even larger discoloration, which had to be Apocalypse City. They had now traveled more than sixty miles, which would have taken an army some three days. But they had done it in a little less than an hour.
The whole party was speechless as they turned over the large city and flew back to the Northeast. It was as if the chains on distance and travel had been broken finally and decisively. None of them could ever imagine a day when this kind of travel would be deemed restrictive. It seemed like a dream, although it was very real.
Young Halsey was the first to break the silence. "We’ve used up over half our fuel, but we’re only twenty miles or so from touchdown. Don’t worry, we’ll be safely back soon."
Remmers now worked up the courage to look outside and this time didn’t regret it. The tops of the trees looked like broccoli bunches and the river looked like a little stream from this high. Then, he noticed a square shaped building on the right. It was fort Riverside, a station where he had served in the past. It looked so small! Even so, he could see men in blue uniforms moving purposefully around the battlements.
"Look down there, what are they doing? They’re getting ready to fire!" Remmers answered his own question. He knew an artillery drill when he saw it. Just then, the first whiff of smoke belched from one side of the fortress. Then, a few seconds later, they barely heard the noise of the cannon over the whirring of the propellers. It was almost like looking down on a mass of toy soldiers.
"What are they shooting at?" asked Lord Halsey.
"I think they’re trying to shoot at us!" said Johnston. The second whiff of smoke from that side of the fortress now made its presence known. The men on the ground were not even getting close, as the cannon were not able to tilt back enough to gain the correct trajectory. Yet still, they tried.
"John, may I make a suggestion?"
"Yes, Admiral, what might you suggest?"
"Turn our ship here so that the men down there can see the ensign. Perhaps they think we’re invading or something. Or else they’re trying some impossible target practice..."
"Turning now, Admiral."
The men in the fort stopped firing as soon as they saw the ensign. Instead of shooting they began to cheer and wave their caps in the air. An older man, rather pudgy, was in the middle of the fort. Obviously he was the post commander, or maybe some other officer. He had a glass trained on the airship. Remmers waved at him, knowing that he might see who he was. Colonel Painsly would never live this one down!
"I know the man. He’s not rather sharp, but the army needs good post commanders. If he didn’t at least try to fire on a strange ship flying over the ground near his fort, I’d want to have his colonelcy taken away from him."
The other three nodded in assent. It seemed they understood the situation. Colonel Painsly, the man on the ground, visibly shook his head in surprise when he noticed just who was waving at him from the open window. Well, that would make for some interesting conversation whenever he would see Painsly again.
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. Even the landing was not quite as violent as the takeoff, and by that time everyone was used to it. After landing, Johnston and Remmers decided to meet together in private session. Lord Halsey invited them to use his study, which they heartily accepted. It was only noon and the two had been further faster than they had ever been before. They needed to take a little time to debrief each other.
Remmers was the first to speak when the doors closed. "Well, Johnston, I suppose I owe you fifteen crowns."
"No, dear man, please keep your money. I wouldn’t have it."
"No, I insist. I won’t have you coming to me next year sometime, in some embarrassing moment and asking for your crowns. No, my dear man, I cannot but give you these crowns today. You were right about that ship thing. I can hardly call it a ship, but you know what I mean."
Johnston could understand, slightly, that Remmers would have a hard time calling the airship a ship, but that’s exactly what it was. "So, you’re convinced?"
"Well, as convinced as I need to be to order a trial production of the thing." He had reverted to calling it a more army-friendly term. Johnston noted how armies dealt with "things" when they didn’t understand them. But that navies just called "things" what they really were. "You know I was skeptical, but when we flew over that fort, I began to think, what general wouldn’t want a bird’s eye view of a battlefield? It would make for better orders, and it would be harder to surprise the army that had one of those things deployed. No, I think I’ve seen the future today, and that’s what were here to investigate, is it not?"
"Yes, I think so." Johnston was cautious. He too wanted to see the airship become a part of Bertonia’s armed forces, but didn’t quite know what to do about it. "We should have a trial ship built, and we should give it a mission. If this is such a good idea, then we should be able to have a ship fly to Pt. East, or one of the outer colonies. What do you think?"
"Yes, I think so. And I think it should be a joint crew. Army and Navy together."
"You yourself said that the Navy was better equipped to do things like this, Remmers." He was right. And the Navy was better equipped. Ships needed crews, while regiments needed recruits. But Remmers wouldn’t let the suggestion go.
"No, it needs to be a joint crew. We are a Joint Board on Military Advancement, are we not?"
"I suppose you’re right. What part would you have the army play?"
"Well, I hope that you wouldn’t send your airship up unarmed, would you?"
"Well, now that I think about it... No I wouldn’t."
Remmers smiled with glee. "Well, that’s exactly right, dear friend. We need to have a cannon on the thing. Maybe something made of that lightweight aluminum. Something of small caliber, to be sure, but a gun none the less. How about a four-pounder? The army can surely spare a field piece and a crew."
"Well, alright, as long as we have a navy man in charge of the whole thing. Someone willing to take risks."
"Yes, he must be a risk taker, and I’m comfortable with a navy man in command. But the Army must play a part." It seemed they were getting closer to a consensus.
Johnston then said, "I wonder if John has plans for a different craft? I would suppose this one isn’t quite large enough to be a proper military airship."
The two continued to talk long into the afternoon and evening. After supper, they invited Young Halsey into their conversation. Slowly and surely a plan was building.
* * *
So slow, thought Admiral Johnston, as he watched His Bertonian Majesty’s Sloop Albatross glide into Ox-Ot harbor. Of course, he would not have thought that just a mere two months ago. But his encounter with the airship had changed his perspective on quite a few things. He continued to think about what John Halsey had said when the airship took off. "Gentlemen, welcome to the third dimension." He was right.
The sloop made progress as he watched and tied up quite nicely to the pier. Her skipper was a detail man, and this made Johnston smile. He watched as the man overlooked each of the moorings, having his midshipmen check each one. Then the sails were stored and the mailbags were lowered into the waiting arms of the longshoremen. It was a dance of detail and efficiency. The noises and the smells were something that a man never quite got over, and every time he heard and smelled them he was transported back to that first time he was onboard ship.
The skipper of the Albatross was the first one down the gangplank and onto the pier. His uniform was a bit tattered and worn in places, but that was just as well with Johnston. Navy men were not supposed to be extravagant in his book. The man had an angular face and jet black hair that was long and unkempt, springing from beneath his black bicorn skipper’s cap. His frame was not quite slight, but certainly not full. Although he did have a strong, muscular build to him. He saluted more to keep his copious hair from his eyes than out of formality, but Johnston returned the salute in kind.
"Lieutenant Charles LaMay, skipper of the Albatross, reporting for duty. Admiral, to what do I have the pleasure of your welcome here?" He was pleasant enough, this LaMay.
"Rear Admiral David Johnston of the Joint Board on Military Advancement. Lieutenant LaMay, I have new orders for you, straight from the Admiralty..."
LaMay instantly wondered what these new orders might be. It was not necessarily out of protocol for an admiral to meet a ship on the pier. But one from the Joint Board on Military Advancement, that was certainly interesting. In fact, LaMay searched the dark recesses of his mind and could not come up with a time he had ever heard of that institution.
"May I ask a question, Admiral?"
"Surely, LaMay, we’ll be working with one another for a little while here. You can ask whatever you like."
"What is this all about? I’ve never heard of the Joint Board on whatever that you’re a part of. What are you doing?"
"Well, LaMay, that’s going to take some time. Suffice it to say that we’re working on a project that will revolutionize the way we move from place to place. And I want the Navy to be on the cutting edge of that, don’t you?"
"Well, yes... but, well, why me?"
"You’re a young officer, for one, and for two, you are skilled at commanding craft with small crews. You’ll do just fine, LaMay."
LaMay hadn’t questioned how he would do, but he was questioning what he would be doing. His initial perception was that he didn’t like it. Any kind of joint board between the army and the navy had never seriously worked out. And now, he would be in the thick of it. This man was obviously a little old to be a rear admiral. Apparently it hadn’t worked out the best for him either. Hopefully he wouldn’t be matriculating in a dead end position.
"Sir, you were talking about a way to make transportation quicker? That does have me interested. But you’re also talking about a joint board with the Army. That doesn’t interest me at all."
"Were you speaking freely, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, I suppose I was..."
"Well, your permission to do so is denied at this time." LaMay looked at Johnston in a quizzical manner. It seemed that the Rear Admiral was also having the same concerns, but was unable to address them. Well, just great, he thought. I can’t tell this man no, he outranks me by two or three grades. I guess I have to go along with him.
"Follow me, LaMay... We’ve got more to talk about."
The two naval officers walked down the pier together, leaving the Albatross behind. Little did LaMay know, but this would be the last time that he would command a seagoing vessel.
* * *
Johnston had explained the whole thing to him. LaMay was chosen to be captain of a new kind of vessel. A flying ship of some sort. Some kind of contraption that burned pure alcohol in order to propel it through the air. Well, that was just great.
And what is more, Johnston informed him that it would be a limited joint mission with the army. Things like that had never gone well. Even though LaMay couldn’t quite remember what had happened the last time the Army and the Navy had cooperated, he was sure that it didn’t turn out very well.
Still, if this were true, that people could really fly in air-going ships at incredible speed, then LaMay wanted to be a part of that. Grudgingly he was sold on the idea.
Still, there were bumps that needed to be worked out. First was the fact that Johnston ordered him to oversee the construction of the new ship in Ox Ot, take command in Ox Ot, and finally to fly the ship around the world, traveling eastwards. It seemed like a very risky mission according to LaMay. Also, while the Army had acquiesced to limit its involvement to a single gun crew, the naval contingent had some serious flaws, according to LaMay. One such flaw was before him in the Foundation Street Pub in Ox Ot.
Second Lieutenant James "Jim" Remmers was drunk. It was not necessarily normal for him to be inebriated so, but all the same, he was. And as a result he was not quite thinking clearly, although in his state of intoxication he felt like he was. He briefly pondered exactly how many beers he had since his father, Brigadier General Nathan Remmers, had left. He figured that if he could remember that he wasn’t really drunk after all, just slightly tipsy.
His father had told him that he would be a pioneer, flying above everyone’s head, and so on and so on. It seemed to the younger Remmers that his father was speaking nonsense. Some kind of an airship. Well. That would be the day.
Then, he noticed the man in naval uniform standing right beside him. "Who are you?"
"No salute, Remmers? I’m one grade above you, man, and in a few months I’ll be your captain. If you don’t like it, then leave the navy."
"I never liked you, what’s your name? La... May is it?"
LaMay remembered the day that this young man came to officer training school in Ox Ot. LaMay was a senior at the time, and Remmers was just a freshman. As usual, the classes fought about most everything, and here the tensions were still rife some five years after LaMay had graduated. Well, that was to be expected. He remembered a couple times that he had helped haze the young recruits.
"I never really much liked you either, Remmers, but I suppose I’m going to have to work with you. What do you think?"
"I think I’m drunk, LaMay... If it weren’t for the six or seven glasses in front of me, my willingness to follow you would give it away..."
"Yes, can you walk?"
"I don’t know..." Remmers tried to get off the stool in a way that resembled coordination, if not dignity, but ended up falling to the floor instead.
"No, I don’t think I can..." It was an understatement.
"Well, Remmers, we can’t have you like this, I’ve got work for you tomorrow..." He reached down with his arms, and after a few abortive attempts, succeeded in raising his new drunken executive officer to his feet. The two walked off down the streets to the officers’ barracks.
* * *
While the young Jim Remmers was getting his belly full of the best beer Foundation Street Pub had to offer, and summarily ridding himself of the intoxicating ingredients by means of his mouth, the older Remmers was having another interesting problem. Nathan had served with Sergeant Samuel Pinkerton before, in the brief campaign against Scruffia only three years before. The man has proved himself an able Non Commissioned Officer, or NCO, and also a good artillerist. Lately, Remmers had been given a top-secret file from the General Staff that recommended Sergeant Pinkerton for the post aboard the new airship. He had apparently gone through the spy school in Ox Ot. That institution had a checkered past, as it was started by the infamous Blacktalon back in the days of the Lumenadi. But now it seemed to be respectable again to work for the Ministry of Interior.
Remmers was given information that this Sergeant was an avid gambler, and was probably staying at one of the gambling institutions in Ox Ot. He had gone to three of them already, and failed to find Pinkerton. But when he mentioned the man’s name, he received a cold reception. Just how badly Pinkerton had fallen from the graces of those establishments and what he had done to merit such a reception was an information hole that only speculation could fill.
Now, here at the fourth institution, invitingly named "Lady Luck" he found Pinkerton at the craps table. Two other army privates were there as well, along with one of the drink serving ladies. Lady Luck herself? Well, Pinkerton had seen much, and now he was just doing what everyone thought he should as an old sergeant. There was really no hope for him in any other profession, and when he wasn’t in the field, he was like a fish out of water. Gambling was probably his defense against normal society.
Just as Remmers walked up to the table, however, four muscular men dressed in black suits entered the room. One of them had white shoes on, and was holding a pistol in front of him. Before Remmers could react, this man called out, "Pinkerton!"
"Yeah? Who wants to know?" Pinkerton was playing this one rather cool.
"I’m Freddy Donaldson, the man you cheated out of two hundred crowns, and I’ve come here with my friends to collect."
"Is that right... Well, be sure you know how to use that thing, Freddy. Many a Scruffian lies dead on the battlefields north of Blemia because of insufficient instruction..."
"All the same, I think you better pay up..." The two privates’ eyes grew wide as Freddy cocked the pistol. It wasn’t a newer model, being a single shot. But still it was deadly. It was leveled right at Pinkerton’s center of mass.
"Well, I never intended to slight you... I think I might have what you want in my pack here..." As Remmers watched, Pinkerton slowly walked over to this Freddy character with his hands up. His satchel was at his side.
"Give me what you owe me..."
"Don’t worry, my friend, I’ve got what you need right here..." Pinkerton reached his left hand across his body into the satchel, and one could audibly hear the ringing of coins. Of course, Freddy looked at the sound rather than at Pinkerton’s right, which was swinging toward the antiquated pistol that was in Freddy’s hand.
Pinkerton had timed it just perfectly. The pistol went off a split second after Pinkerton’s hand hit it, and the combination of the recoil and the fist sent the weapon sailing. The bullet, of course, missed Pinkerton and everyone else in the room, imbedding harmlessly in the cheap molding in the ceiling. And now, Pinkerton had stepped back.
Freddy and the rest of his men were struck with amazement that was quickly turning into rage. But Pinkerton’s mind was working quicker than their collective reflexes. He swung what had to be a heavy bag full of coinage at Freddy’s head. The man didn’t try to block it, and went down with a thud.
But now the other three men were on top of him. One had a knife that he was about to stick into Pinkerton. The Privates seated at the craps table noticed one of their own in danger, and fearing the consequences if they didn’t act, joined in just in time. One kicked away the blade, just as it was about to come down on the half-captured Sergeant. The other started pummeling the man that was holding Pinkerton with his fists.
Remmers, however, would have none of this. He took out his Johnston Limited Service Revolver and aimed it at the ceiling. He quickly fired three rounds into the molding, secretly hoping that no one was upstairs, or that there wasn’t an upper floor. But things couldn’t be helped. Every pair of eyes that was in the place turned toward the sound of the gun.
"Alright. This is how it’s going to be." Started Remmers. "Freddy and company, get out of here before I put a bullet between your eyes for striking an Army NCO." The three men quickly let go of the Army personnel and began dragging their unconscious leader out of the front door.
"Thank you, sir..." said one of the privates.
Remmers didn’t quite know how to answer. Pinkerton, however, finished it for him. "Sir, with all due respect, we could have taken that gang, and the streets would have been better for it."
"What are you doing, Pinkerton?" Remmers’ rage had cooled just slightly, just enough to allow somewhat controlled speech again.
"I was just taking some money from these people. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to win at craps, sir..."
"I wouldn’t know..."
"Well, sir, I suppose I could teach you sometime..."
"That won’t be necessary, Sergeant."
"Well then, sir, why are you here in the first place, if not to gamble?"
"Sergeant, I’m here to give you an order..."