Napoleon

by Stephen Arseneault

  “The British Navy has to have been demoralized by these losses.”

  “We were yet to be finished.”

  “More ships?”

  “Those under construction. We steamed up to the mouth of the Thames and attacked the shipyard at Sheerness. While they had been steadfastly upgrading the cannons on their ships, they had yet to do so with their shore guns. We obliterated their yards from a safe distance, taking out fifteen ships that were at various degrees of construction and another eight that were at dock to be retrofitted.”

  “That has to have been a devastating blow.”

  “Indeed. We then proceeded up the coast to Harwich where we did the same to the yard there. We left the entire dock area in flames. From there it was on to the docks at Plymouth and then all the way across to Portsmouth.”

  “There were no ships in defense of these important ports?”

  “Four ships apiece at the first three. They put up their best fight at Plymouth where the South Atlantic fleet had returned for refit. They put up a grand fight, taking out two more of our steel-clads, but again, we had range and speed to our advantage. All sixteen ships at Plymouth were sunk and the docks left in shambles.”

  “So we are ready for an invasion?”

  “Not yet. The Royal Navy had more than six hundred ships during these years. Of those, fully a third were out and about, sailing the high seas, the rest in port or guarding the Channel. Our efforts thus far have only taken their numbers down by a quarter of those protecting Britain proper.”

  “So roughly three hundred ships are still available for Britain's defense? That remains a staggering number.”

  “And one that we shall overcome.”

  “The recording only goes on for another three weeks.”

  Naffi nodded. “And a tumultuous three weeks it was. We lost another five steel-clads during those fights, but eliminated another seventy-six warships. And to add to our momentum, another tour of their shipbuilding ports was made, setting them back even further. Unfortunately for me, the Josephine III was one of our lost vessels.”

  “Should I prepare another clone?”

  Naffi sighed. “I feel the need for a mental break. Is there anything else you could design for Napoleon's army?”

  Reno grinned. “Anything else? Certainly. I was thinking of building an internal combustion engine. What is lacking is the machining capability, which can be fashioned with time, and the problem of providing fuel.”

  “Are you preparing to build the first automobile?”

  “The first tank. What better way to conquer the cities of Britain than by armor. But that can hardly be accomplished with the steam engines of our steel-clads. Any such vehicle would have to be enormous in size.”

  “An armored tank. Interesting. I should like to command a battalion of those into battle.”

  “We are up against artillery pieces that are growing in range and accuracy. Think of these as mobile artillery, with a shield.”

  “We are talking about mechanizing the Human species over a hundred years before the natural course of events. We should do more of these things if we wish to change the future.”

  “That is already my plan, but I was hoping to have a single, more powerful government to work with. Perhaps a culture that offered the funding and had the desire to build such things. If Napoleon is successful in conquering both the European continent and Britain, we will have that single government I'm speaking of.”

  “Then we shall make it happen.” Naffi smiled. “Prepare me a clone while you are bringing up one for yourself. I want to be ready to go, immediately following your journey.”

  “What of our jump away from this location when I return. You would have a good ten or more hours before we were again at a stable location.”

  “So long as I have Marwal's clone in confinement there is no need for a jump.”

  “Ah. Excellent thinking. I'll be back shortly.”

  The Reno clone was sent to the southern city of Toulouse, at a time of 1794. Wealth was acquired by the usual means and used to open a factory where a complete machine shop was constructed and outfitted. More than four years were spent on the creation of an internal combustion engine.

  At the same time, drilling equipment was fashioned and a pair of oil wells were drilled in the Paris basin, bringing forth a needed supply for the creation of fuel. On the same site, a factory was constructed and the chemical cracking of oil to gas, on a relatively small scale, was put into operation. A large storage tank was manufactured and set in place.

  Back in Toulouse, the internal combustion engine was used to do further work, powering a manufacturing line that would aid in the creation of more such engines. In addition, the design of an armored hull was turned into a prototype. The workers, all well paid and sworn to secrecy, were in awe of the mechanized creation that moved back and forth under its own power, in and around their extensive building. When a dozen of the machines had been readied and tested, the Reno clone closed and sealed the factory, paid off his workers, and proceeded to a private location where he took his life.

  After Reno's return, the new clone of Naffi was soon on its way. The target year and time of the jump was October 12, 1799. The clone came to be in a field outside Cognac, making its way to a safe house set up by Reno's prior clone. It was a house that came equipped with clothing, identity papers, and cash. The following day, a new Roger Dumas arrived at La Rochelle where the remains of the fleet were waiting.

  Anton Tilluel was in shock as the clone came into the building they had made their headquarters. “Admiral? But how? I saw your ship explode. We searched the waters around where it sank for nearly an hour.”

  The clone leaned in. “I must apologize. I was clinging to the back of your ship. The sun was coming out, it was a nice day, and you were steaming for home. Are you unhappy to see me?”

  “Unhappy? The contrary. This could not be better news.”

  “Good. Let us continue work on our mission. There are several hundred British warships remaining and I intend to send them all to the bottom of the Channel.”

  Anton smiled. “I'll prepare the crews.”

  Naffi leaned back in his chair. “I do like Anton. He is efficient, effective, and he doesn't ask too many questions. He's content with being a part of this historical series of events. I do find it strange though. The French and the English are constantly at war, and yet when in the company of one or the other they seem to be civil. Our people would never react in such a manner to our enemies.”

  Reno chuckled. “Which may be why we have no enemies. But we always have ourselves I suppose.”

  “Yes. At times we can be our own worst enemy... as the Humans say.”

  Chapter 8

  _______________________

  Roger Dumas entered the room where the clone of Marwal was confined. “I hope you are enjoying your stay.”

  “Just let me go. Let me die.”

  Roger chuckled. “I'm afraid that is out of the question. If I were to release you it would impede my own progress. You would immediately go back to work against me, while at the same time attempting to capture me. I prefer the current situation. And you don't have it so bad here.”

  Marwal jeered. “Being force fed food and water? And my hands and feet always tied? You don't think it's bad because you aren't living it.”

  “You have a staff of six who are dedicated to your care. Is there something I could do that would make your stay more pleasant?”

  “Give up? Stop this madness? Look. Nunol has made it known he is willing to drop all charges. He will even allow Reno to go to work with Bouthis, all free of the pursuit of the law.”

  “How is that possible. People no longer exist because of my actions. That cannot be reversed.”

  “No, it can't, but you have to remember, the people don't know anything is different. Those who lost loved ones don't know they lost anyone. Those who's financial situation has changed don't know that it has changed. The government higher-up
s are willing to let this chapter of our history close, if you are willing to end this. And for you Naffi, that means a full restoration of your businesses and properties.”

  “But not my family.”

  “I wish that were different. But it is our new reality. We cannot safely make changes that would bring them back. You have to understand that.”

  Roger Dumas huffed. “And you have to understand this, without my family my life there no longer has meaning. I know most Opamari don't think that way. I would venture to say a large portion would be fine with losing theirs, so long as they got to go back to doing what they were doing before. And this is where I think you and I have common ground, Marwal. I cringe at the thought of affecting your family, putting them in danger. But at the same time, I cannot let mine go when there is even a sliver of hope of bringing them back.”

  The Marwal clone was silent for several seconds. “You're enjoying this life back here, aren't you.”

  “I would be lying if I said I wasn't. It works as a distraction to my depression while at the same time keeping that tiny ember of hope alive. Frankly, I wouldn't be opposed to that entire corrupt empire being overthrown. The wealthy maintain their power and positions while the masses are distracted, living virtual lives, only working as needed to provide for those virtual lives.

  “We lack compassion and drive, empathy and awareness. We are stagnant as a people, which is why someone like me can make their own fortune, because I am unique and paying attention... in a galaxy that is distracted.”

  “Then come back. Go into politics. Make a difference from within.”

  Naffi laughed. “From within? Even with my vast wealth I was unable to get 'in'. The ruling class has no interest in giving up their power. They would just as soon kill themselves as let new money take control. Thank you, but I am content with remaining here. The change to this future will happen. Whether or not that restores my family is yet to be seen. But so long as there is a chance, I will keep fighting.”

  Roger Dumas was soon aboard the newly renamed Josephine IV as it steamed out into the Atlantic. One month turned into two and then three before the English Channel was deemed secure. Of the estimated four hundred Royal Navy warships in the eastern Atlantic, only a handful were thought to be remaining. And to ensure the situation stayed that way, the shipyards had been attacked again and again.

  On the land front, Napoleon's army had taken all of northern Italy and had swept through Belgium and up through Germany. The new eastern front was Russia, a regime that had refused to come under French control.

  Back in France, Roger Dumas was given full control of the navy and the western army. Preparations for a grand invasion had been underway for months. One hundred fifty thousand men had been trained and equipped, including obtaining the use of updated rifles and artillery.

  Roger stood overlooking the two dozen tanks that were at his disposal as they were being loaded on a specially constructed barge. “I can't believe this is finally happening.”

  Anton, one of his seconds in command, stood by his side. “A magnificent day, Admiral.”

  Roger turned and smiled. “And only possible because of contributions of men like you, Captain. How are you liking your new command?”

  “I would not have thought myself worthy of such.”

  “Nonsense. You have earned command of both the steel-clads and your new support ships. Keep the channel clear for this invasion and who knows, we might even make you an Admiral. I suspect my title will be changed to General shortly.”

  “You always seem a step ahead, Admiral. I sometimes wonder if you don't know the future. And these devices of war such as our ships. They are beasts of terror. The rumor among the people is they are controlled by some magical force.”

  “And do you believe that to be true?”

  Anton glanced over his shoulder toward the docks. “They are indeed wonders. But there is nothing magical about them. They are machines. Machines made by man.”

  “Yes. But the rumors of magic work in our favor, don't you think? If it creates fear in the enemy, it is a rumor I will happily allow to persist. And if you think those ships something to behold, I have a land vehicle to show you. It is mobile, armored, artillery. The simplified name is tank. It will do to infantry wars what our steel-clads have done for the navy.

  “Imagine a cannon equipped with an engine that can propel it into battle without horses. And imagine it to be heavily armored where it can take a direct hit from British or German artillery. In addition it is equipped with two of the automatic rifles.”

  “We have such a machine?”

  “Right there, being loaded. They will lead our forces in the invasion.”

  Anton stared at the mechanical contraptions. “What a wonderful time to be French. General Bonaparte leading the Armies of the East and you here in the west.”

  “The General will soon be elected Emperor. His great victories have already enriched the Republic.”

  “We will soon be greater than the Roman Empire, or that of Alexander the Great.”

  Roger smiled. “Ambition. Most excellent. A trait that is largely missing where I come from.”

  “And where might be that from, Admiral. You never talk of family.”

  Naffi sat back in his chair as he paused the recorded playback. “This is why I do what I do. How do you put the loss of family behind you when you are constantly reminded of them?”

  Reno huffed. “You are asking that question of an orphan?”

  Naffi stared for several seconds. “Forgive me for my selfish behavior.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. Even I understand what it is you must be going through. Which is also why I am glad to help. My own situation is of course my main driver, but I do consider you a friend and therefore I mourn your loss with you.”

  Naffi placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. I was in need of that bit of support.”

  “I see there are months of recording left. Should we get back to it?”

  “Yes. There are some interesting adventures ahead.”

  The playback was continued. The ships of the French Navy, numbering close to two hundred that were anchored on the French coast at Le Havre, began filling with troops. Roger Dumas commanded the expedition, going aboard the command ship, the triple-deck, one hundred ten cannon Républicain. It was mid March of 1800. The invasion of Britain was beginning.

  Roger Dumas stood on the command deck of an advance fleet, barking out orders as the fleet got underway. The ships would be landing on the beaches of Bognor Regis. From there they would push inland to take Chichester. And then it would be a run to Portsmouth to take control of the docks, all on the southern coast of Britain. When that mission was complete, the bulk of the troops would be moved across the Channel.

  At the halfway point, one of the steel-clads pulled alongside the Républicain.

  Anton yelled up from his turret. “The beaches are clear except for a handful of soldiers on patrol. The garrison there remains small and appears understaffed.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Roger replied. “Keep up the patrols. The bulk of our men will be moving across shortly.”

  After an uneventful crossing, the tank barges pulled right up on the beach, each tying off to the other as massive ramps were lowered into the sand. The first of the tanks were soon on the beach, spitting silica from their tracks as they began to move inland. A British patrol could be seen running away, toward the nearby garrison.

  A dozen long barges were then floated into a line, anchored and tied up to the empty tank barges, making a pier that went out to water deep enough for the main ships to anchor and unload. Infantrymen and standard artillery pulled by horses were then brought forward, blanketing the beach.

  Roger Dumas stuck his head out of the turret of his lead tank. “There is a garrison with possibly several hundred men in Chichester. We take that town first. From there we will go west to Portsmouth where we secure the docks for the remainder of our landing. There are two t
housand of you, sixteen artillery pieces, and these two dozen tanks. Infantry will fall in behind the tanks with artillery coming up last.”

  A lieutenant came with status. “The soldiers fleeing to the garrison here have made it inside.”

  “Good. We leave them be. We must stick to our objectives.”

  Roger turned to face his commanders. “The armor will be sweeping to the left and coming in from the east. You artillery commanders have been told your position. Be there and be prepared for my signal. The bombardment of the Chichester garrison will begin when the Oriflame is raised. Understood?”

  Confirmation came back from each of the commanders.

  Roger looked down into his turret. “Take us in Lieutenant Durrant.”

  The twenty-four tanks, each twelve meters long and five meters wide, throttled up and began to move. The infantry marched after with the artillery following last. At two miles inland, the artillery began to set up. The infantry branched off, staying behind the tree lines as not to become targets of any British artillery that was certain to be at the garrison. The tanks continued north, turning east when they had reached that side of the town.

  The relatively fast tanks had allowed the assault to move into place before the local troops of the town of Chichester were readied. The small garrison was new and not fully outfitted for defense. The command was given, and the assault moved forward.

  A dozen tank rounds sent the local soldiers scrambling. Four artillery pieces were pulled into position to meet the oncoming threat with all four being laid to waste before they could fire a single round. The garrison of eighty, newly stationed men fell quickly, with the town mayor surrendering as the two thousand French infantry troops approached from the south. The entire assault was over only forty minutes after it had begun.