by Nancy Holder
It’s got to work.
Then, unlike the previous formulation, the gas continued to eat away at the mask. The glass lenses cracked even more, the straps broke away from their buckles, the rubber turned to black dust, and the chromed metal became bubbling green jelly. She could barely contain her glee. At last, success.
I have earned it.
Dr. Poison imagined the gas deployed on the battlefield, dropped by aircraft, or buried with explosives underground; there would be no escape. It was the ultimate weapon, unstoppable, a work of genius. The caustic effects of the gas didn’t stop with the steaming, rotting mask—the containment chamber’s glass walls began to show hairline cracks.
Maru reached for the electrical switch on the side of the chamber. She flipped it, igniting a single spark, which caused the highly flammable gas to spectacularly combust in a blinding flash.
Elated, she looked to the general for approval. He was beaming at her with immense pride. She had done it. She had done it. She would help him win this war. Imagining the moment when he informed the Kaiser that she had come through, she giggled.
And his smile, his approval, made it all worth the sleepless nights and the worry.
I’ll do even better, she thought. I’ll never quit improving my ultimate weapon. No army on Earth will stop us. The world will be ours.
He had made a believer out of her.
* * *
Alerted to the crucial intelligence Steve had stolen from the Germans, Colonel Phillip Darnell, Sir Patrick Morgan, General Douglas Haig, and the rest of the British war cabinet crowded with Steve and Diana into a small conference room in the War Office. The walls were covered with maps, photos of Ludendorff and Dr. Maru before her face was injured, and photos of the notebook pages. A terrain map was thumbtacked in the center of the assemblage.
Diana stood near the door, watching, listening to the men discussing the implications of the gas Steve had described. After a few minutes she walked over to the section of photographs. She saw gas bombs, a plane like the one she had freed him from, and a large building called a hanger. Now and then one of the men would glance her way. Steve would say things such as, “She’s all right. She’s with me. I’m vouching for her.” She remembered arguing for his freedom in the courtyard outside the throne room. Their positions were somewhat reversed although these men had no equivalent to the Lasso of Hestia to demand the truth from her.
After a time, there was a shift in the room as the men gazed expectantly at Darnell, who had returned. “Cryptographers had no luck,” the man said ruefully. “It seems like a mixture of two languages. But they have failed to determine which two languages.”
Diana honed in on the photos of Ludendorff, gazing at his intense face, his hawklike eyes, then turned her attention to Maru’s notes. She scanned them. Oh. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned that before?
“Ottoman and Sumerian,” she announced.
The men turned to look at her in obvious astonishment. She was a trifled confused.
“Surely someone else in this room knew that,” she said, studying their faces.
Rather than being appreciative, General Haig seemed offended by her remark. As if the fact that she was the one to supply the information devalued it.
“Who is this woman?” he demanded.
Darnell glared at Steve as if it was a question he too wanted answered. The Amazons would have welcomed more information about the war from any quarter.
“She’s my… secretary,” Steve said.
Having discovered what that post entailed, Diana was none too pleased. But as before, expediency was the mother of calm.
“And she can understand Ottoman and Sumerian?” General Haig said dubiously.
“She’s a very good secretary,” Steve assured him. Laughter bubbled around the room.
“See her out,” the general said. Steve was just about to point out the obvious—that they needed Diana—when Colonel Darnell did it for him.
“If this woman can read it, sir,” the man protested, “we should hear what she has to say.”
General Haig seemed to consider the proposition, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, very well.”
Steve glanced her way as if he found it embarrassing that she observed how narrow-minded the men of this world could be.
Diana scanned the pages again. The subject matter was more puzzling to her than that actual translation. “It’s a formula… for a new kind gas…”
The men in the room stirred, intent now, giving her their full attention.
“Hydrogen-based, instead of sulfur.” She was sounding out the words, interpreting them.
A shudder rippled through the room. The War to End All Wars had seen the modern introduction of many horrors, including the use of poisonous gas four years earlier. The gases had “improved” over time, becoming more lethal, more devastating.
“Gas masks would be useless against hydrogen,” Colonel Darnell said.
Diana continued, “The book says they plan to release this gas at… the Front…” Her heart skipped beats. The Front was their destination. Surely this was more proof of Ares’s influence.
“When?” Steve cut in anxiously.
She scanned the pages. “It doesn’t say.”
“Sir,” Steve said, “that is the evidence we need. You have to find out where they’re making this gas. Burn it to the ground. Destroy it.”
“Ludendorff was last seen in Belgium,” Darnell said.
“We can’t be sending troops into German-occupied Belgium as we are negotiating their surrender,” General Haig said dismissively.
Steve was shocked. That was the first he had heard of a possible German surrender and he hadn’t dreamed that it lay within the realm of possibility, given how dismissive the War Council had been of Sir Patrick’s efforts to discuss an armistice. He took a moment to process that.
Then he realized that even if a peace were struck, that didn’t negate the necessity for their side to contain this weapon of mass destruction. The Germans could simply stockpile it until the next time they felt like taking over the world. And there was no guarantee that the Germans would surrender. They hadn’t surrendered yet. It was vital to humanity that this ultimate weapon be removed as a threat.
“Sir,” Steve continued, “I’ve seen this gas with my own eyes. If it is used it will kill everyone on both sides.”
General Haig cut him off. “That’s what soldiers do, Captain.” His voice was stone cold, his face as expressionless.
Diana was appalled. Sir Patrick gave her an apologetic look, as if asking her to understand the harsh realities of war.
“Send me in,” Steve pushed. “With some logistical support. At least give me the chance to take out Ludendorff and his operation out myself.”
“Are you insane, Trevor?” Haig snapped back. “I can’t introduce rogue elements like this this late in the game.”
“But General…” Steve began.
But before he could press his argument, Sir Patrick spoke up. “Now more than ever,” he said, “the Armistice is of paramount importance. We must get it negotiated and signed. That is the best way of stopping the war.”
No, it is not, Diana thought. Ares will not allow it.
“You will do nothing, Captain Trevor,” the general declared. “That’s an order.”
Diana looked to Steve. He knew she was waiting for him to defy the general as she had defied her mother. In her mind, it was the only way to save mankind. He would be sorry to disappoint her.
“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “I understand, sir.”
Diana’s eyes widened. Heat painted her cheeks. She gazed around the room of satisfied men who sat here far from battle and made plans to send others to their doom. Her eyes locked on Steve, who was acquiescing to this monstrous crime with less force than she had once exerted on her mother to miss a day of school.
“I don’t,” she said.
“Diana, I know it’s confusing,” Steve began.
She squared her
shoulders and raised her chin, staring at him as if he were a complete stranger—which he was. He was not a hero, as she had assumed. He was a weakling.
“It’s not confusing. It’s unthinkable,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” the irritated general bit off. “Who did you say this woman was?”
“She’s with me,” Steve replied. “With us.”
Diana stood her ground. “I am not with you.” She directed her ire at General Haig and the others. “You would knowingly sacrifice all those lives, as if they mean less than yours? As if they mean nothing? Where I come from, generals don’t hide in their offices like cowards. They fight alongside their soldiers. They die with them on the battlefield.”
“Diana, enough,” Steve barked. He turned to the general and said, “My apologies, sir.”
Diana balled her fists. “You should be ashamed.” She turned on them. “All of you should be ashamed.”
Shaking with anger, she stormed out of the room and rushed down a flight of marble stairs. She was revolted; she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The depth of Steve’s spinelessness sickened her. She would find Ares on her own.
She would find him in this vast, clogged, confusing world—
“Diana, wait!” Steve called to her back.
She wheeled on him, betrayed and furious. “That’s your leader?” she said. “How could he say that? Believe that?” She pointed at him. “And you! Was your duty to simply give them a book? You didn’t stand your ground. You didn’t fight.”
“Because there was no chance of changing his mind! Listen to me…”
“This is Ares and he isn’t going to allow a negotiation or a surrender. The millions of people you talked about? They will die. My people?”
Steve spoke over her: “We’re going anyway!”
She stopped. Took that in. “You mean you were lying?”
He almost smiled. “Diana, I’m a spy. That’s what we do.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do I know you’re not lying to me right now?”
Steve grabbed hold of Diana’s lasso, wrapped the end of it around his wrist, and looked into her eyes. The lasso began to glow.
“I’m taking you to the Front,” he said. “And we’re probably going to die.”
Steve seemed surprised at the last part.
Diana shook her head, but she couldn’t help a small smile in return. Still holding on to the lasso, Steve said, “This is a terrible idea…” He let go of the rope. “We’re going to need reinforcements.”
10
That evening Diana found herself in one of the seedier sections of what was called London’s East End. Steve had led her off the main thoroughfare of Commercial Road, down narrow streets poorly lit or not lit at all, past brick tenements and living spaces that could barely be called hovels. A maze of ramshackle, interconnected cottages. It was a wet night and the air smelled foul from the breeze off the river and the privies in the back yards. There were people staggering about, men and women. Some asked for money, dirty hands extended. There were no beggars on Themyscira.
Steve moved with confidence, comfortable in these circumstances. They exited a narrow alleyway and came out facing a weakly lit set of windows and a sign on a hinge over the doorway. Steve had already explained that their rendezvous with colleagues would take place in a public house, a shop that sold liquid refreshments and bites to eat. Looking at the Hangman’s Arms, she couldn’t imagine a reason that anyone would want to cross the threshold to do either.
But Steve opened the door and ushered her in.
It smelled like a stable and the clientele were all rough types: merchant sailors, dock workers, ex-Army. Scarred. Dirty. Brutal. And they were inebriated. Some were singing loudly and unintelligibly. Others were arguing.
“These are the reinforcements?” Diana said in disbelief.
“Yup,” Steve said affectionately.
“Are these even good men?”
“Relatively,” Steve replied.
“Relative to what?”
They moved towards a group of khaki-uniformed Army officers who seemed out of place in the shabby pub. One of them, an exotic, dashing man with brown skin, large eyes and heavy, dark eyebrows, was holding court.
“In Africa, gentlemen,” he said, “we had no such luxuries…”
The officers laughed and nodded their agreement as Steve and Diana approached.
“But the luxuries we have now,” the speaker continued, “it’s like we can’t stop making money. My uncle the prince and I would keep it all, but we want to extend the opportunity to a few good soldiers…”
“Which prince was that?” Steve said as he grabbed the man’s arm. “I need to talk to you, Prince Madras Angora Cashmere…”
The man grimaced at Steve, but turned and smiled at the men around him, as if to say forgive my rude friend. He excused himself with a nod to the others.
“You bugger,” he said to Steve when they were out of earshot. “I’ve been greasing those peacocks all night…” He noticed Diana, who had followed after them. “My goodness gracious,” he said, brows raised as he gazed at her. “That’s a work of art.”
“Sameer,” Steve said, “this is Diana.”
The man smiled broadly at Diana. “Diana, call me ‘Sammy,’ please.”
“Sammy.” Amused, she quirked a grin. First Etta Candy and now this man. Steve Trevor kept colorful company.
Shouts and curses made them turn their heads. On the other side of the pub, two men were having an argument that was threatening to boil over.
Steve waved Diana closer, then said, “Sammy’s a top undercover man. Can talk the skin off a cat in as many languages as you.”
Diana decided to put that claim to the test. She said in Spanish, “He doesn’t look that impressive to me.”
Sammy replied, also in Spanish, “You do to me. Your eyes, as soft as your smile…”
One for one, then. Diana moved on to Chinese. “And your eyes look like they want something.”
“I know Chinese, too, tricky girl,” he answered in the same language.
Then in Ancient Greek she said, “But can you recite Socrates in Ancient Greek?”
Sammy looked at her blankly. He had no idea what she’d said. Diana shrugged as if unimpressed. Score three for the Amazon. Sammy was very gracious as he dipped his head, declaring her the victor.
“Oh, you’re done,” Steve quipped. That settled, he looked around at the raucous crowd. “Where’s Charlie?”
Sammy pointed at the two men who had been arguing and who were now fighting with bare knuckles in a corner of the pub. A huge bruiser was beating the stuffing out of a smaller, younger man.
Diana smiled at the bruiser. “At least this Charlie is good with his fists.”
“That’s not Charlie,” Steve said.
The bigger man landed a blow so powerful that it knocked the small fellow off his feet and sent him crashing to the floor. He groaned.
Steve winced and nodded at the man flat on his back. “That’s Charlie.”
The fighters snarled at one another in a variant of English, but Diana could not decipher the slang. When Steve and Sammy started across the room towards the bruiser, the man realized that Charlie had friends and beat a hasty exit.
Charlie nimbly jumped to his feet, surprisingly cheerful after the punishment he’d absorbed. He plopped down at a table, and Diana, Steve, and Sammy joined him. In a matter of seconds, Charlie had full glasses of whiskey in both fists.
“All right, Charlie?” Steve said.
Charlie looked at him adoringly. “Steve, may God put a flower on your head. Good to see you.” Then he downed both glasses of whiskey without taking a breath.
“What were you fighting about?” Diana asked.
“I mistook his drink for mine.” He grinned and shrugged. “It happens.”
Diana looked at Steve and frowned. She was concerned about his choice of reinforcements. A smooth-talking linguist and a brawler?
> “This man is no fighter,” she said.
“Charlie here’s an expert marksman. It means he shoots people,” Steve replied.
“From very far away,” Sammy drawled.
Charlie reached out and grabbed a drink from the man seated at the table behind them. “They never know what hit ’em,” he said merrily.
But Diana saw a darkness behind his polite smile. He was troubled, or was trouble; either way, she didn’t like the idea of an undeclared attack upon an enemy.
“How do you know who you kill if you can’t see their face?” Diana said.
“I don’t. Trust me. It’s better that way.”
“My aunt warned me about men like you,” she said, and thought of Antiope’s reminders that battles were rarely waged fairly.
He leered at her. “Ain’t the first time I heard that, lassie.”
She went on. “You fight without honor.”
His smile didn’t flicker, but again, she a cloudy expression move across his face. “Don’t get paid for honor.”
“What’s the job, boss?” Sammy said.
Diana kept her counsel, waiting to see how the rest of this meeting played out. Steve took over.
“Two days tops,” Steve said. “We need supplies and passage to Belgium…”
“What’s the going rate?” Charlie cut in.
“Better be good pay,” Sammy teased.
Steve regarded them. “Well, here’s the thing. Uh, I told you it’s going to be quick. And there’s a lot to be gained by this. It’s for a great cause. Freedom. Friendship.”
“Okay, you have no money,” Sammy said.
“No,” Steve admitted.
Sammy gazed at Diana and said in French, “All I want right now is a picture of your lovely face.”
Diana smiled at him and replied, “You won’t need a picture. I’m coming with you.”
Sammy’s smile faded. “What is this?” he asked Steve.
Steve nodded. “We’re dropping her off at the Front.”
“Dropping her off?” Sammy echoed.
Charlie looked at Diana. “No offense, chérie, but I don’t wanna get killed helping a wee lassie out of a ditch, you know what I mean?”
Diana let it go. If Charlie was still there when she challenged Ares, he would learn what an Amazon could do.