Post by Lorpius Prime on May 22, 2008 6:02:40 GMT -5
Damn him. Margaret punched at her pillow again, her fist landing with a satisfying thump. Then she lifted her hand to rub at her eyes before she could tear up again. Her eyelids were red-raw and sore by now and she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.
She had thrown Martin out of her cabin, of course. After all that he’d told her, he had earned his exile, and Margaret hadn’t been about to let him look at her like this.
How dare he? Margaret stamped her foot against the carpeted deck. All those lies, and he thought he would simply tell her about it now? She had told him the worst part was that he’d misled her parents, as she’d had to. But, if Margaret was going to be honest with herself, she was more shocked that he had concealed so much from her. He had made her look like an utter fool.
Margaret knew he had only been doing his job, and he had apologized even so. But still… she shivered with anger. She had not been prepared for the deception, and it hurt. She had actually let herself believe that she knew the mysterious Colonel from the Security Service. Margaret shook her head, dismayed and disappointed in herself.
“Stupid,” she told herself, and twisted to lie back on the pillow she had been beating. Margaret blinked as she looked up at the ceiling of her room; it was the first time she had looked at it, and there was a mural painted there. It was not a very good one and Margaret was certain it was not original either; all the luxury cabins probably had the same painting. The mural was a depiction of the Garden of Eden, which Margaret knew because the painter had conveniently written “The Garden of Eden” at one edge. It was a peculiar choice, Margaret thought, especially because the airship was called the Apollo; Margaret would have chosen some scene featuring the heavenly namesake. Perhaps it was standard for Imperial Airways, though; they might be trying to imply that their airships were as luxurious as that ancient Paradise. If that was the case, Margaret thought they should buy light fixtures made of something nicer than cheap brass.
The airship rocked slightly in the wind and Margaret fell asleep to fantasies of strangling Eve for giving women such a bad name.
Martin Bozeman Holland was fantasizing about strangling someone entirely different. After his abrupt eviction from the cabin downstairs, he had made his way to his proper seat by a starboard-side window on the top level. There, his anger at himself had quickly been transformed into anger at the man in the seat next to him. He was a fat Turk, a diplomat returning to Istanbul as he had told Martin, and he smelled awful. Martin wondered if he was being transferred out of the consul in Belfast because no one there could stand to be around him.
Martin himself had only been able to tolerate a minute or so of the man’s company before he had to withdraw to the dining area for the airship’s regular-fare passengers. To his great dismay, the Turk actually followed him there.
“I think I shall have a drink, too!” the man gurgled amiably as he sat himself down at the bar next to Martin. Martin just stared, unable to believe this behavior.
The bartender sidled over, “What can I get you gentlemen?” Martin could see the man wrinkle his nose at the smell, but he concealed his displeasure quickly.
“Rum!” announced the Turk, causing the bartender to lift an eyebrow. “Delightful spirit, I shall miss it greatly.”
The bartender shrugged and looked to Martin, who was rubbing his temple in exasperation.
“Just,” he shut his eyes and tried hard to block out the smell coming from his right, “just tea. Ceylon, please. With sugar.”
He opened his eyes to see the bartender hurrying away to fill the order.
The Turk poked Martin in the ribs with his elbow. It was not done in a hostile manner, but Martin nearly struck the man anyway. His neighbor remained oblivious to Martin’s expression and leaned in very close to murmur.
“In my homeland, it is very hard to get spirits of any kind. Especially for an official like me. So I must drink as much as I can before I arrive, eh?” He winked.
Martin said nothing. When the bartender brought his tea, he took it and left without a word to find a table on the other side of the dining area. This time, he was not followed.
It took the Apollo only 16 hours to reach Munich, thanks to fortunate winds. The air station was a large, irregular pentagon cut into the ground at the Northwestern corner of the city. Margaret, who had slept too long earlier, watched out her window as the airship hovered over it. It was taking a long time to land, but she assumed that they simply had to clear enough space for the Apollo’s bulk.
Martin, on the other side of the airship, knew better. From his window, he could see the fires which had engulfed a large part of the city. All of them were burning on the west side of the city, including one just a few hundred yards south of the air station. Everything east of the Isar river seemed intact, although something was smoldering on an island near a bridge between the two banks.
The station itself was also clear of any airships at all, unless any were stored in one of the great hangars near the edges. As Martin pressed his nose against the window to search for any hint of what was happening, a signal light appeared on a station tower and began to flash.
It took several minutes for the coded message to finish; but by the time it was complete, Martin was out of his seat and squeezing past his corpulent and snoring neighbor.
He caught the eye of a conductor as he hurried down the aisle towards the stairs at the front.
“Sir, is everything all right?” the conductor asked as he moved to block Martin’s path.
“I need to—“ Martin stopped himself as he looked at the conductor’s skeptical face. He dug into his pocket, “My name is Colonel Holland, I need to speak with your Captain at once.” He withdrew his passport to show the other man his credentials.
The conductor remained skeptical, but began walking Martin towards the stairs as he handed back the passport. “May I ask what it is you need to see the Captain about, Colonel Holland?”
“An urgent matter of Security, I’m afraid,” Martin replied, dropping easily into the tone he used for dealing with minor bureaucratic officials.
The conductor merely sighed as they made their way down the steps to the flight deck on the lowest level. There they nearly ran into the airship’s Captain, who was pulling his white cap down over a mess of hair and walking quickly after a junior officer.
He saw the conductor leading Martin towards him and held up a hand, “In a moment, Smits. Apparently something’s wrong on the ground.
“Ah, Captain Randall, this is Colonel Holland,” the conductor, Smits, said anyway, “he says he’s got something urgent to tell you.”
The Captain cocked his head at Martin and slowed but did not stop. Then he shook his head abruptly and waved for the two men to follow, “Come on, then, but I’m needed in the bridge.”
Martin and the conductor hurried down the last couple steps and after Captain Randall. The bridge compartment was just a few yards ahead of the staircase, and the junior officer held open the door to allow the Captain to enter.
“What’s the matter, Curtis?” he asked as Martin and the conductor hurried in after him. The bridge took up a good portion of the front end of the airship’s gondola, but it was crowded nonetheless. The officer who had held the door squeezed in around Martin to take up station near some piece of equipment sporting an impressive number of levers and dials.
Another officer, presumably Curtis and presumably the airship’s current watch officer, turned around from a table strewn with papers. He saluted and glanced only briefly at Martin before speaking.
“Sir, we’ve gotten a message from the Army controller. He says the city’s under attack and that we’re not to land.”
“What? Have you got a copy of that?”
Someone handed him a yellow piece of paper on which someone must have scribbled the decoded signal. Curtis continued as the Captain pored over it, “Sir, the Army says the area isn’t safe and we should clear off quickly. I think they’re right, too sir, we’ve spotted at least one downed airship on the way in.”
“Christ,” the Captain hissed, and he stepped forward to look out one of the large bubble-shaped windows. A crewman pointed towards the Southeast, but Martin couldn’t see well enough to make out anything. The Captain, however, looked shaken.
“Let’s do as he says then. Engines to full. Someone get on our light and see if we can’t get any more information out of them on what’s happened.”
“Captain, if I may!” Martin interjected. Everyone whirled around to look at him. The Captain seemed to have forgotten he was there, he looked unhappy.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“Colonel Holland, Captain, with the Security Service. Captain, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask that you land the airship.”
“Excuse me?” the Captain was incredulous, and several of the other crew were muttering.
“I need you to land, Captain,” Martin repeated calmly. “I need to get into the city.”
“Colonel, I’ve just been told that this is a war zone and that I’m to get our explosive asses out of it. That sounds like a wise suggestion from where I’m standing.”
“Yes, Captain,” Martin nodded. “But I’m afraid the apparent situation only makes my presence all the more urgent. Further delay may be disastrous to my mission.”
The Apollo’s Captain looked daggers at Martin, “Colonel, I’ve got two hundred passengers aboard this airship to look after, not to mention my crew. I don’t give a good goddamn about your mission.”
“I appreciate your position, Captain Randall?” Martin waited for the other man to nod slightly to confirm that he had gotten the name correct. It was not courtesy, Martin used the tactic to help establish his own dominance in the conversation.
“I appreciate your position,” he went on, “and I sympathize. But I am afraid that my immediate arrival in Munich is more important. We must land at once.”
“If there are shells flying about—“ he protested.
Martin stopped him. “Captain, you and every member of your flight crew are on the Empress’ Roster as Reserve members of the Royal Air Corps. I am a commissioned officer of the Crown on urgent assignment in what may very well be a time of War.” Martin held the Captain’s gaze without blinking. He knew that he was wading into dangerous waters, but he wasn’t about to turn back now. “Each of you will do your duty to your Empress and to your Country. Under fire if need be.”
He may have been only the Captain of a commercial airliner, but Randall was no weakling, and he met Martin’s gaze with plenty of determination of his own.
“Colonel Holland, is it?”
It was Martin’s turn to nod slightly, “Of the Security Service, London station.”
He could almost see Captain Randall recording the information in his mind for later reporting. The man set his jaw and took a deep breath.
“Very well, Colonel. I hope you won’t regret your decision. Lieutenant Kaspar, open the vents.”
Martin allowed himself a small, appreciative smile which the Captain did not return. He noticed only too late that all the others in the bridge compartment had braced themselves against something solid.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-
She had thrown Martin out of her cabin, of course. After all that he’d told her, he had earned his exile, and Margaret hadn’t been about to let him look at her like this.
How dare he? Margaret stamped her foot against the carpeted deck. All those lies, and he thought he would simply tell her about it now? She had told him the worst part was that he’d misled her parents, as she’d had to. But, if Margaret was going to be honest with herself, she was more shocked that he had concealed so much from her. He had made her look like an utter fool.
Margaret knew he had only been doing his job, and he had apologized even so. But still… she shivered with anger. She had not been prepared for the deception, and it hurt. She had actually let herself believe that she knew the mysterious Colonel from the Security Service. Margaret shook her head, dismayed and disappointed in herself.
“Stupid,” she told herself, and twisted to lie back on the pillow she had been beating. Margaret blinked as she looked up at the ceiling of her room; it was the first time she had looked at it, and there was a mural painted there. It was not a very good one and Margaret was certain it was not original either; all the luxury cabins probably had the same painting. The mural was a depiction of the Garden of Eden, which Margaret knew because the painter had conveniently written “The Garden of Eden” at one edge. It was a peculiar choice, Margaret thought, especially because the airship was called the Apollo; Margaret would have chosen some scene featuring the heavenly namesake. Perhaps it was standard for Imperial Airways, though; they might be trying to imply that their airships were as luxurious as that ancient Paradise. If that was the case, Margaret thought they should buy light fixtures made of something nicer than cheap brass.
The airship rocked slightly in the wind and Margaret fell asleep to fantasies of strangling Eve for giving women such a bad name.
* * *
Martin Bozeman Holland was fantasizing about strangling someone entirely different. After his abrupt eviction from the cabin downstairs, he had made his way to his proper seat by a starboard-side window on the top level. There, his anger at himself had quickly been transformed into anger at the man in the seat next to him. He was a fat Turk, a diplomat returning to Istanbul as he had told Martin, and he smelled awful. Martin wondered if he was being transferred out of the consul in Belfast because no one there could stand to be around him.
Martin himself had only been able to tolerate a minute or so of the man’s company before he had to withdraw to the dining area for the airship’s regular-fare passengers. To his great dismay, the Turk actually followed him there.
“I think I shall have a drink, too!” the man gurgled amiably as he sat himself down at the bar next to Martin. Martin just stared, unable to believe this behavior.
The bartender sidled over, “What can I get you gentlemen?” Martin could see the man wrinkle his nose at the smell, but he concealed his displeasure quickly.
“Rum!” announced the Turk, causing the bartender to lift an eyebrow. “Delightful spirit, I shall miss it greatly.”
The bartender shrugged and looked to Martin, who was rubbing his temple in exasperation.
“Just,” he shut his eyes and tried hard to block out the smell coming from his right, “just tea. Ceylon, please. With sugar.”
He opened his eyes to see the bartender hurrying away to fill the order.
The Turk poked Martin in the ribs with his elbow. It was not done in a hostile manner, but Martin nearly struck the man anyway. His neighbor remained oblivious to Martin’s expression and leaned in very close to murmur.
“In my homeland, it is very hard to get spirits of any kind. Especially for an official like me. So I must drink as much as I can before I arrive, eh?” He winked.
Martin said nothing. When the bartender brought his tea, he took it and left without a word to find a table on the other side of the dining area. This time, he was not followed.
* * *
It took the Apollo only 16 hours to reach Munich, thanks to fortunate winds. The air station was a large, irregular pentagon cut into the ground at the Northwestern corner of the city. Margaret, who had slept too long earlier, watched out her window as the airship hovered over it. It was taking a long time to land, but she assumed that they simply had to clear enough space for the Apollo’s bulk.
Martin, on the other side of the airship, knew better. From his window, he could see the fires which had engulfed a large part of the city. All of them were burning on the west side of the city, including one just a few hundred yards south of the air station. Everything east of the Isar river seemed intact, although something was smoldering on an island near a bridge between the two banks.
The station itself was also clear of any airships at all, unless any were stored in one of the great hangars near the edges. As Martin pressed his nose against the window to search for any hint of what was happening, a signal light appeared on a station tower and began to flash.
It took several minutes for the coded message to finish; but by the time it was complete, Martin was out of his seat and squeezing past his corpulent and snoring neighbor.
He caught the eye of a conductor as he hurried down the aisle towards the stairs at the front.
“Sir, is everything all right?” the conductor asked as he moved to block Martin’s path.
“I need to—“ Martin stopped himself as he looked at the conductor’s skeptical face. He dug into his pocket, “My name is Colonel Holland, I need to speak with your Captain at once.” He withdrew his passport to show the other man his credentials.
The conductor remained skeptical, but began walking Martin towards the stairs as he handed back the passport. “May I ask what it is you need to see the Captain about, Colonel Holland?”
“An urgent matter of Security, I’m afraid,” Martin replied, dropping easily into the tone he used for dealing with minor bureaucratic officials.
The conductor merely sighed as they made their way down the steps to the flight deck on the lowest level. There they nearly ran into the airship’s Captain, who was pulling his white cap down over a mess of hair and walking quickly after a junior officer.
He saw the conductor leading Martin towards him and held up a hand, “In a moment, Smits. Apparently something’s wrong on the ground.
“Ah, Captain Randall, this is Colonel Holland,” the conductor, Smits, said anyway, “he says he’s got something urgent to tell you.”
The Captain cocked his head at Martin and slowed but did not stop. Then he shook his head abruptly and waved for the two men to follow, “Come on, then, but I’m needed in the bridge.”
Martin and the conductor hurried down the last couple steps and after Captain Randall. The bridge compartment was just a few yards ahead of the staircase, and the junior officer held open the door to allow the Captain to enter.
“What’s the matter, Curtis?” he asked as Martin and the conductor hurried in after him. The bridge took up a good portion of the front end of the airship’s gondola, but it was crowded nonetheless. The officer who had held the door squeezed in around Martin to take up station near some piece of equipment sporting an impressive number of levers and dials.
Another officer, presumably Curtis and presumably the airship’s current watch officer, turned around from a table strewn with papers. He saluted and glanced only briefly at Martin before speaking.
“Sir, we’ve gotten a message from the Army controller. He says the city’s under attack and that we’re not to land.”
“What? Have you got a copy of that?”
Someone handed him a yellow piece of paper on which someone must have scribbled the decoded signal. Curtis continued as the Captain pored over it, “Sir, the Army says the area isn’t safe and we should clear off quickly. I think they’re right, too sir, we’ve spotted at least one downed airship on the way in.”
“Christ,” the Captain hissed, and he stepped forward to look out one of the large bubble-shaped windows. A crewman pointed towards the Southeast, but Martin couldn’t see well enough to make out anything. The Captain, however, looked shaken.
“Let’s do as he says then. Engines to full. Someone get on our light and see if we can’t get any more information out of them on what’s happened.”
“Captain, if I may!” Martin interjected. Everyone whirled around to look at him. The Captain seemed to have forgotten he was there, he looked unhappy.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“Colonel Holland, Captain, with the Security Service. Captain, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask that you land the airship.”
“Excuse me?” the Captain was incredulous, and several of the other crew were muttering.
“I need you to land, Captain,” Martin repeated calmly. “I need to get into the city.”
“Colonel, I’ve just been told that this is a war zone and that I’m to get our explosive asses out of it. That sounds like a wise suggestion from where I’m standing.”
“Yes, Captain,” Martin nodded. “But I’m afraid the apparent situation only makes my presence all the more urgent. Further delay may be disastrous to my mission.”
The Apollo’s Captain looked daggers at Martin, “Colonel, I’ve got two hundred passengers aboard this airship to look after, not to mention my crew. I don’t give a good goddamn about your mission.”
“I appreciate your position, Captain Randall?” Martin waited for the other man to nod slightly to confirm that he had gotten the name correct. It was not courtesy, Martin used the tactic to help establish his own dominance in the conversation.
“I appreciate your position,” he went on, “and I sympathize. But I am afraid that my immediate arrival in Munich is more important. We must land at once.”
“If there are shells flying about—“ he protested.
Martin stopped him. “Captain, you and every member of your flight crew are on the Empress’ Roster as Reserve members of the Royal Air Corps. I am a commissioned officer of the Crown on urgent assignment in what may very well be a time of War.” Martin held the Captain’s gaze without blinking. He knew that he was wading into dangerous waters, but he wasn’t about to turn back now. “Each of you will do your duty to your Empress and to your Country. Under fire if need be.”
He may have been only the Captain of a commercial airliner, but Randall was no weakling, and he met Martin’s gaze with plenty of determination of his own.
“Colonel Holland, is it?”
It was Martin’s turn to nod slightly, “Of the Security Service, London station.”
He could almost see Captain Randall recording the information in his mind for later reporting. The man set his jaw and took a deep breath.
“Very well, Colonel. I hope you won’t regret your decision. Lieutenant Kaspar, open the vents.”
Martin allowed himself a small, appreciative smile which the Captain did not return. He noticed only too late that all the others in the bridge compartment had braced themselves against something solid.
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-