Uchronie

  ‘In a fresh breeze…eleven metres a second…small craft go backwards.’ said DeBlanc, ‘In a storm…thirty metres a second…they are completely out of control. And in a hurricane…sixty metres a second…or a cyclone, a hundred metres a second… they are smashed to pieces.’

  ‘I’m glad I got out when I did.’ said Winston Churchill. ‘A considerable storm blew up that day.’

  ‘Small guidable aerostats have very little power and are notoriously difficult to keep on course,’ said DeBlanc, ‘even in a moderate breeze.’

  ‘Small?’ I enquired.

  ‘Less than one hundred thousand cubic metres.’ said DeBlanc, sipping his brandy.

  I nodded. The Hindenburg was two hundred thousand square metres.

  ‘Once the lifting mechanism was perfected, steam engines gradually became accepted as the way forward.’ said DeBlanc. ‘A compact steam engine develops twelve horsepower and yields a speed of six metres per second in any weather. Gradually airships achieved that desideratum described as a steam horse in a watch case.’

  ‘That is a perfect description of the Uchronie.’ I said. ‘A steam horse in a watch case.’

  ‘Correct, sir!’ said DeBlanc, triumphantly finishing his brandy. ‘The Uchronie is my clipper of the clouds.’

  ‘Tirant,’ said Daphne DeBlanc, pouring her husband more brandy. ‘I believe you have to be big as well now and apologize to Nate for an injustice that he suffered last night.’

  In an instant DeBlanc’s face went purple and he would not look at her or the glass of brandy that she was offering. Instead he puffed furiously on his cigar and filled the enclosed space with acrid smoke.

  ‘You said you found no evidence linking him to the attempted bombing of the Hindenburg.’ she persisted.

  Lolly and I exchanged a glance.

  Awkward.

  ‘Yes indeed.’ coughed DeBlanc, clearing his throat. ‘I have talked to my friend, Commander Rosendahl, at Lakehurst and he believes that the Hindenburg was sabotaged by parties unknown. It seems that there are much bigger, much darker forces trying to control the world.’

  ‘Even in the darkest night, the light never wholly abandons his rule.’ growled Winston Churchill. ‘But in this alternate timeline the smallest of events seem capable of causing enormous disruption. It seems that if someone left a tap running it could cause a Nazi victory!’

  ‘If someone stepped on an ant it might cause a Nazi victory.’ said DeBlanc, standing up rather unsteadily. ‘Who knows what rules apply now? Hopefully our mission to Germany will re-establish the Universal Order. Anyway… I have to get this party started.’

  ‘Oh… if only he had an atom of firmness.’ said Daphne, as Commander DeBlanc left the table. ‘That was not any sort of decent apology.’

  ‘It’s alright mummy. I know what he’s like.’ said Lolly, pulling back the curtain so we could see DeBlanc clambering on to the stage. The band stopped playing and Jules, the singer, stepped back from the microphone so the commander could make his announcement.

  As soon as he touched the microphone there was a loud bang as a balloon above him suddenly burst.

  Everybody gasped and then laughed when the drummer of Les Chemise Rouge clashed his cymbal.

  ‘Alright… Now we have 99 red balloons.’ said DeBlanc, taking the interruption in his stride. ‘Do not to be concerned, no one is going to blow up the Uchronie. This hall has been thoroughly checked by security. There is no bomb hidden in the piano set to go off when the pianist hits a certain note…’

  Leon, the pianist ran his fingers up the keyboard, played a high trill, looked under the lid of the piano and spread his hands.

  Everybody laughed again.

  ‘…There is no sniper in the gantry above the stage.’ continued Tirant DeBlanc, looking directly at me. ‘We have checked and double checked and I can assure you that there are no terrorists on board tonight.’

  ‘That was your apology right there, Nate.’ said Daphne DeBlanc. ‘Blink and you’d miss it… Tirant never ever says sorry.’

  ‘Tonight we celebrate St Arwar.’ continued DeBlanc, ‘Patron saint of Screevers, Redsmiths, Primogenitors, Cogglers and Artificers.’

  Everybody applauded. ‘So enjoy yourselves with happy song and merry dance.’ shouted DeBlanc, as the band started playing again. ‘TONIGHT WE PARTY LIKE IT’S 1899.’

  ‘Nate why don’t you go and dance with Lolly.’ said Daphne, pouring another large measure of brandy as DeBlanc returned from the stage.

  ‘You are off the hook.’ said Lolly. ‘Daddy has admitted you are innocent. Enjoy yourself tonight and let him worry about the dark forces that are enveloping this world.’

  ‘Alright. I know I should be thankful.’ I said, ‘But that means you don’t have to stay with me. I’m not under house arrest anymore.’

  ‘Ah, but perhaps I want to spend time with you.’ said Lolly, smiling as she checked her Venus Redstring watch. ‘Romance seems to be in the air tonight. Come along Nate. There’s Vicky and Wayne and Dwayne... Everybody’s up on the dance floor. Let’s Dance!’

  Next Episode ‘Dance Robot Dance.’ released 10 December 2012.

  Dance, Robot's, Dance.

  In which Nate enjoys many unusual spectacles and finds some happiness.

  The St Arwar’s Ball was in full swing and huge crowds of fancy dressed crew were dancing to Les Chemise Rouge. Winston Churchill sat watching from the captain’s table, with a large drink in one hand and a huge cigar wedged between his fingers.

  It felt like a victory celebration.

  The free bars set up in the corners of the great hall could barely cope with the stream of orders from the thirsty crowd. Everybody I’d ever met since I came on board was up on the dance floor. Vicky, dressed as a giant dollar bill, was dancing with Wayne. Dwayne had been drinking all afternoon and was throwing himself around the floor like a whirling dervish. In between his crazy spins and dives he kept trying to do the Russian Cossack dance.

  The sedate Captain Wright, still wearing his numbered shirt, looked on bemused as the squatting Dwayne leapt up and crashed down, again and again.

  Free Sheepio was dancing a crazy Charleston with a girl in a fringed neon dress. ShoeBacker was dancing with Judy Toffer from the canteen and I even caught a glimpse of Doctor Mentor with a nurse who had come dressed as Florence Nightingale.

  Beside us Commander DeBlanc was dancing hand in hand with his wife, Daphne. ‘I haven’t danced like this since Pablo Fanque’s fair.’ he said to Lolly, with a huge grin on his red and purple face. ‘Are you enjoying yourself Nate?’

  ‘Yes.’ I shouted, as they spun gracefully away into the crowd.

  ‘Your troubles are over, Nate.’ said Lolly, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘Daddy realises he’s misjudged you. You’ve seen off your invisible demons. Your future’s so bright you’re going to need a pair of sunglasses.’

  I laughed and she smiled.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got the girl n’all.’ said Wayne, pulling Vicky towards a bar. ‘It’s Saturday night... what is there left to do… but dancin’ in the dark?’

  I spun round, trying to copy Dwayne, and nearly fell over. No one noticed among the flashing strobe lights that made it look like we were all dancing in slow motion.

  For a few hours I was lost in a happy world of dance and celebration.

  Just before midnight, the grinning Commander DeBlanc climbed on stage and took the microphone again.

  No balloons popped this time.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I trust you are enjoying the St Arwar’s Ball.’ he roared, a huge grin nearly splitting his face in two.

  There were deafening cries of approval and a huge round of applause.

  ‘I have received a message from the weather men that there is a lightning storm outside,’ he continued, ‘and I have ordered the steamchav’s to open the blast shutters on the ballroom windows so we may all observe this wonder of Mother Nature.’

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the metal s
hutters unfolded from the glass panels all around us with smooth, steam powered, precision.

  Everybody stopped dancing and crowded at the windows to watch the lightning flashing through the sky around us. All the way to the horizon, vast luminous white clouds shimmered blazing blue and glowing green as a massive lightning storm cast flickering shadows through the Uchronie’s lattice of colored glass panels.

  The St Arwar’s crowd oohed and aaahed, their flashing faces full of wonder.

  In the glittering gloom, I spotted Biffo standing by the light switches between the golden statue of Osky and the iron Brit. It was nearly time for his big surprise. On the stroke of midnight he flicked several switches that opened the metal roof panels, creating the effect that his giant statues had been struck by lightning.

  Slowly, inexorably, Osky and Brit came alive, like Frankenstein ballerinas on top of a gigantic music box. Jerkily at first, and then with a smoother, fluid motion they rose up and followed Biffo into the great hall. Their stove pipe hats released puffs of steam with each step as he walked backwards, guiding the automatons towards the centre of the dance floor.

  The overawed crowd turned their attention to this new entertainment and stood in a huge circle around them. When Biffo raised his arm to wave, Osky and Brit raised their arms and waved to the crowd as well. They were like two puppets on one string, mimicking every move he made.

  Even when Biffo tripped on the edge of the carpet, they copied him by stumbling forwards as well. Everybody laughed, then cheered and then applauded. The disgruntled Biffo frowned, smiled and then laughed. Overcoming his embarrassment he started his mechanical show.

  Osky, pirouetted on one gold leg, her incongruous lace tutu a shimmering blur in the flickering lights as Brit circled slowly round her.

  Then, a hush descended on the great hall as the two automatons stopped and faced each other in the centre of the dance floor.

  Quietly, Les Chemise Rouge started Strauss’s Blue Danube and the two robots danced together with slow, perfect, synchronous, movements. Their gears, pinions and pipes, popped, started and stopped in a wonderful, choreographed, waltz.

  At Biffo’s signal the band switched to the faster ‘Dancing Machine’ and the robots boogied furiously to the pounding, accelerating, beat.

  Several of the steamchav’s joined in, but only Dwayne could keep up the pace. Everyone cheered when he rolled off the floor, the last one to drop out.

  Now the band increased the tempo again and the two tireless automatons danced faster and faster, taking over the whole dance floor as the music grew in volume and power. Steam belched from their stovepipe hats as they whirled and twirled into a blur of gold and iron machinery.

  Again the band increased their tempo, the pounding snare drum driving them to new excesses until, suddenly, the ambiance changed.

  Biffo was running, flickering in slow motion, across the dance floor, frantically waving his arms above his head. The robots arms flailed above their heads and their bodies were a fog of flashing metal.

  Thinking it was part of the show Les Chemise Rouge redoubled their efforts and accelerated into a final, break dance, crescendo that drove the music to a surging climax.

  It was too much.

  The thrashing, floundering robots could not hold it together. In a shower of sparks Brit began to disintegrate. His permanently grinning iron face took on an aspect of madness as he jerked up and down. One arm dropped to his side, twitching and sparking, while the other swung loose, free from any control.

  Osky went into spasm, locking and releasing her hip and knee joints until, finally, she crashed forward, face down on to the dance floor.

  Too late - the band stopped.

  In the silent hall, Brit’s fuses blew, Osky’s springs burst and the two machines collapsed on to the floor, a twitching a pile of scrap metal in a steaming pool of oily water. Without warning there was a puff of smoke and Brit burst into flames.

  Commander Price’s huge soldiers rushed forward and doused the conflagration with fire extinguishers.

  ‘No… not…need to lock check n’that.’ shouted Biffo, as the soldiers unceremoniously hauled the robots out of the hall, leaving a trail of broken, burnt and damaged parts. A disconsolate Biffo followed behind, picking up pistons, gears and burnt wiring as he left.

  Quickly the lights were dimmed and Les Chemise Rouge played elevator music while the dance floor was cleaned.

  Outside the heavy dark clouds, now illuminated only by the lights of the Uchronie, parted to reveal a new moon among the twinkling stars.

  ‘We shouldn’t be looking at the new moon through glass.’ said Lolly, as we sat alone at the Captains table. ‘It’s unlucky.’

  I looked up and, for a moment, the myriad stars dwarfed all the troubles and little problems of my life.

  ‘There’s the satellite that you and daddy launched yesterday.’ said Lolly, pointing straight up.

  A fast moving spot of unblinking white light streaked across the sky above us, heading for Germany.

  ‘And there’s the planet Venus.’ cried Lolly, checking her Redstring watch. ‘Dance with me, Nate! There are only a few minutes to go...’

  ‘…until the hour of Venus.’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’ said Lolly, pulling me up on to the dance floor and wrapping her arms around my neck.

  It was nearly two o’clock in the morning and the St Arwar’s Ball was reaching its happy conclusion. Biffo was at the bar having a drink with Corporal Price and his crew. He’d got over his chagrin about his broken mechanical toys. Les Chemise Rouge were playing a final slow dance as the fireworks began to go off outside. Ninety nine red balloons cascaded from the open roof on to the happy crowd.

  I was dancing with Lolly, lost in her perfume, dreamily watching the glitter ball and the starry sky, hypnotized on the crowded dance floor as firework waterfalls cascaded all around me.

  I looked at Lolly and she looked at me.

  The planet Venus had risen high in the sky above us.

  I knew the hour was right.

  Lolly closed her eyes.

  I closed mine and leaned forward.

  Suddenly the double doors of the great hall crashed open and all the lights came on. Dazzled by the blinding brightness of the huge spotlights I could just make out the figure of an airman standing by the light switches. It was Ginger, and he was wearing a black uniform, with a red armband of a type that I had never seen before.

  Les Chemise Rouge kept playing, thinking it was part of the show.

  ‘Very dramatic.’ said Jules, playing a huge chord on his piano.

  'Very romantic.’ said Leon, coaxing a sweet melody from his violin.

  ‘What the deuce is he doing here?’ said Lolly, covering her eyes. ‘He’s not meant to be back until Tuesday.’

  Ginger stumbled a few steps into the great hall and then fell forward on to the floor. It was then that I saw that his uniform had actually been burnt black and smoke was pouring from his clothes.

  Lolly squealed, let go of me, and ran to his side.

  Without thinking, I ran after her.

  ‘Stuka’s.’ croaked Ginger, raising his soot and sweat stained face from the carpet.

  ‘What?’ cried Lolly, looking around, frantically. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Stuka’s.’ repeated Ginger, raising his blackened hand and pointing to the glass roof. ‘German planes… followed me.’

  I looked up through the glass panels. I couldn’t see anything but smoke from the fireworks.

  ‘Where are they?’ I asked. 'Were they close behind you?'

  He didn’t answer.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  Then I heard it.

  A high pitched whistle getting louder and deeper as something screamed down on the Uchronie from the smoke filled, starry sky.

  Suddenly a single winged plane burst through the wreaths of smoke, heading straight for us. It was so close I could see that the pilot was wearing a gas mask.

  Sil
ently the twin muzzles of his machine guns flashed again and again.

  Then the torrent of bullets shattered the Uchronie’s intricate glass ceiling and I was deafened by the rat a tat tat of 50 mil cannons.

  The terrified crowd ran for cover as razor sharp shards of glass rained down on them.

  Amidst the shouting, crashing and tinkling glass, two parallel lines of bullet holes exploded across the dance floor, heading straight towards me.