by Eric Flint
“Drop sail!” shouted the captain, and the winch was released. The sails came down quickly and the ship slowed, coasting on momentum toward the end of the dock. Then there was a shout from the docks and a flight of arrows was shot at the ship. The infantry put up their shields, and the crew, working under the watchful eyes of armed soldiers, tossed lines to the dock posts and started pulling the ship in. All while under a steady rain of arrows. The bow of the Argos reached the end of the dock, then a few feet more, and a gangplank was dropped onto the dock. A picked unit ran down the gangplank and formed a shield wall. Behind them came the rocketmen, carrying their rocket stands and rockets.
Men died, struck by arrows, and their place was taken by the next in line. All in minutes, very few minutes, though to Eurydice watching, it seemed to take hours.
* * *
Cepheus watched as the soldiers disembarked and formed a shield wall, but a shield wall with no sarissa, as though they had no interest at all in advancing. He saw the other troops coming down the gangplanks and doing something behind the shield wall, and was tempted to advance. A shield wall without sarissa could never stand against a troop armed with the long spears.
* * *
Then Dexios, the commander of the rocketeers, waved a small red flag at Eumenes. Eumenes looked around, held up his hand in a signal to wait as he looked across the quays at the other ships that had docked and were unloading rocketeers.
Eurydice looked around. The other commanders of rocketeers were waving their flags one at a time as their units got ready. Eumenes waited until the last of them was ready, then he brought his hand down like he was chopping a neck.
* * *
Nothing was happening. Cepheus looked around and there, on the next dock over, on the prow of a ship, stood Eumenes with his arm raised, and two bodyguards holding shields before him. He wouldn’t even be visible to the archers directly in front of him. He stood there for what seemed a long time, then he dropped his arm. Cepheus looked back at the docks and saw that shield wall open. Not much, just enough for something to pass through.
* * *
The rockets fired.
They didn’t fire at the bowmen. They fired directly at the pikemen blocking the docks. The rockets barely arched at all, making smoky lines of fire from one end of the dock to the other, then striking the pike formations, and a moment later exploding as their fuses reached the explosive charges.
* * *
Cepheus heard the sound. He even saw a rocket fly by him, only a foot to his left. Then there was a loud noise. And nothing more.
* * *
Then, and only then, did Silver Shields disembark, check their ranks, and march down the docks to the shore.
* * *
Gordias saw the rockets rip his pikemen to shreds, and saw the shredded pike squares crumble under Zeus’ own lightning bolts. He stood there in shock as the pikemen, seeing the Silver Shields forming up, turned and ran. It wasn’t until one of the pikemen ran by him that he realized that the battle was lost.
He thought about surrendering, but he couldn’t surrender to Eumenes. He just couldn’t. He thought about charging and dying gallantly on his enemy’s sarissa, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that either.
So he, too, turned and ran.
When Gordias ran, the defenses collapsed. It wasn’t a large garrison, or a particularly good one, after all. Amphipolis was a burned-out husk, destroyed by fire and sword in October of 320 BCE. It had half a year to recover, and most of the wreckage was gone, but new building was barely begun.
Inn in Amphipolis, new headquarters of Eumenes’ army
Three hours later
In an inn near the center of the city, Eumenes looked up at the shadows cast by the setting sun. The fleet had docked, letting off their army. On the morning tide it would sail back to Abdera and pick up more men. Patrols were out and Eumenes had finished a cursory inspection of the walls and fortifications.
He looked over at Philip and Eurydice where they were seated across the room talking. Philip reached out and took Eurydice’s hand and her face turned bright red. Eumenes didn’t know what that was about, but didn’t think it was his business.
He turned back to the table and using a pen made in New America and a bottle of ink, he set out to write an explanation of his actions to Seuthes. The time for secrecy was past in regard to Seuthes. Seuthes had to know, to have time to act on the knowledge before everyone else realized why they took Amphipolis. But he still didn’t want Cassander and Lysimachus to realize what he was doing.
* * *
“I think I can,” Philip told Eurydice, not wanting to promise too much. It was still hard for him to touch people and even harder to be touched. But he was getting used to it, and it wasn’t fair to Eurydice to prevent her from having this thing that most people wanted so much.
Philip wanted it too. Just as he wanted to be hugged and held, but couldn’t stand it when he was. But now he could stand it. He would spend fifteen minutes in his hug box and smoke a doobie. Then he would try.
“Thank you, Philip. I know it’s not easy for you,” Eurydice said, squeezing his hand hard. She had learned that gentle touches were harder for him to deal with than firm touches.
“I want it too, Eurydice. I just never thought I could have sex before.”
* * *
Philip woke up and he was next to Eurydice. He almost panicked. Her arms were around him and she was holding him, but it was a soft touch that slid across his skin like a silken trap.
It took a real effort not to jerk away, but he managed it. Last night had been clumsy, but functional. Slowly, he pulled away and Eurydice squeezed him, trying to hold him. That made it a little easier. His body knew how to deal with being held tight. It relaxed him.
The door opened, and a servant came in, looked at them, and went out. That was a good thing, Philip decided. The servant would spread the word and it would enhance Eurydice’s reputation. And his, he guessed, but he didn’t care about that part.
Or perhaps he did. He had always been a freak. Philip’s damaged son. Alexander’s damaged brother. But never a person. Always a thing. This might change that, at least a little. The word would spread.
CHAPTER 17
Plans and Progress
Queen of the Sea, Arabian Sea
July 20, 319 BCE
Joshua Varner, sitting in the radio room on the Queen of the Sea, didn’t jerk this time. He was ready for it. Everyone was expecting a report from Erica Mirzadeh. What got him was the lead.
Eurydice and Philip have had sex. Don’t blame me. Eurydice insisted that I report that. Apparently, it’s even more important than the fact that Eumenes took Amphipolis yesterday. Locals are weird.
In fact, Joshua was pretty sure that Eurydice was entirely correct about the relative importance of the two events. The improvement in Philip III was the talk of the Mediterranean and went a long way toward cementing the ship people’s reputation as magi of the highest order. Plus, as Philip got better, it improved the legitimacy claims of the USSE, suggesting that the gods favored it.
That was something that still freaked Joshua out. He had never given it any thought before The Event, but somewhere down in the depths of his soul he’d assumed that before the advent of Christianity, people hadn’t been religious. That no one had really believed in Zeus and Apollo, Athena, Bacchus, and the rest. They were just superstitions, cults, not real religions. Like believing in astrology or fortune-tellers, the province of crystal-worshiping nut jobs, not decent, ordinary people. But it wasn’t that way. Most of the people on the Queen, responsible people, diplomats and scholars, merchants and as close as this century had to scientists, believed in the pantheons. And they believed in them just as firmly and with just as steady a faith as any good Christian from Georgia back before The Event. And since Joshua was a good Christian, that real faith called his into question. Somehow, Christianity was supposed to be different. Better, more real. And it wasn’t, not to Gaius Pontius
of Rome or Capot of Carthage.
As Joshua thought about that for the hundredth time, he was making copies of Erica’s report for Roxane, the captain, and Dr. Easley.
Queen of the Sea, captain’s conference room
July 23, 319 BCE
Lars Floden looked around the conference room. Jane Carruthers nodded, then gave a sidelong glance at Roxane. Marie Easley smiled at Jane’s look, but the smile died quickly. Dag and Roxane were both smiling as they took their seats, and so was Anders. Eleanor Kinney sat next to Jane and started whispering in her ear. Lars took his seat at the head of the oval table and looked over at Roxane.
“Well, Roxane, how do you feel about the news?” Lars asked. He was really curious too. Roxane had claimed from the beginning to be in favor of Philip and Eurydice’s role in the government. But this meant that there was at least the potential of a child to compete with Alexander IV for the crown. A whole line of alternate monarchs.
Roxane’s smile wasn’t half, or twisted, or sardonic. It was closer to beaming than anything else. “I am thrilled and I’ll be even more thrilled if Eurydice has a child.”
“What about your dynasty?” asked Staff Captain Anders Dahl.
“I think I would like my dynasty to be doctors and engineers. Maybe ship’s captains or wealthy playboys. People who don’t get their heads chopped off because of a family squabble.”
Dag was grinning. “Alexander IV, on the other hand, disapproves of the idea because he’s the emperor of his daddy’s empire and Dorothy Miller is threatening to throw him over for Philip’s son. Of course, they’re only children, so that might change over time.”
“I am more concerned with the strategic position that Eumenes seems to have left himself in,” said Marie Easley. “I don’t see what advantage he’s gained from taking Amphipolis. Aside from the psychological effects, that is.”
“Good,” said Roxane. “If you don’t see it, maybe Cassander and Lysimachus won’t either.”
“Don’t count on that,” Marie said. “I’m a historian, not a general. But what is the advantage?”
“I’m curious too,” Lars said.
“Excuse me, Captain, but this is one of those situations where the Queen of the Sea’s neutrality means you lack a need to know. It would be a bit like the Allies telling Switzerland where the D-Day invasion was taking place,” Dag said.
“I see.” Lars leaned back in his swivel chair and considered. Dag was learning to be a diplomat, and getting pretty good at it too. He was offering to let Lars in on the secret, but implying a price. “The Queen is, of course, officially neutral. But we all know that our neutrality occasionally favors the USSE in practice. What are you looking for, Dag?”
It was Roxane who answered. “I would like to visit the Persian Gulf, Captain. This is our third trip around the Cape. There is plenty of oil on Dioscorides.”
“It’s still two thousand miles, Your Majesty. What is there in the Persian Gulf that is worth the cost involved either to the Queen or to the overwhelming majority of our passengers? A trip to Sri Lanka would use less fuel and probably offer more in the way of business opportunities.”
“Oil, Captain Floden. Oil. There are functional wells at the mouth of the Euphrates. What I want to do is encourage their expansion so that there will be an adequate source of fuel on this side of the Atlantic. That will increase the Queen’s effective range and make trips farther east easier for the Queen, for the Reliance, and for the steamships that are being built both in New America and in the empire.”
“What does President Wiley say?”
“Oil is, of course, the major export of New America. In fact, the oil sold to the Queen, and to the empire and Ptolemy, represented almost thirty percent of New America’s income last year. And thirty percent is a major part of the income of the government of New America—more than taxes, if not as much as the tariffs on trade goods. Naturally, President Wiley is concerned about the introduction of major competition…”
“In other words, Big Al is opposed to the idea,” Staff Captain Dahl said. “That’s a point in its favor right there, Skipper.”
“President Wiley has done an excellent job, Staff Captain,” Lars Floden said repressively. “Anders, I wasn’t a fan of his politics before The Event either, but given what he had to start with, I don’t think Gustavus Adolphus could have done as well. Not Washington or Lincoln either. New America has no slavery. It has free elections and a growing population. It is the industrial center of the world…”
Roxane coughed.
Marie Easley laughed.
Anders Dahl snorted.
What the captain had just said was both true and not true. New America at this point had more ship people than the Queen of the Sea. On a per capita basis, it produced more than any place on Earth, except for the Queen of the Sea. However, that was on a per capita basis. The USSE had a lot more capita than New America, and was industrializing just as fast as it could. That was also true of Carthage, and Carthage was starting out ahead of the USSE in terms of tech base. And on that per capita basis, even including the diplomats, merchants, students, and rich, indolent passengers, the Queen of the Sea, with its massive electrical generators and built-in infrastructure, produced more per capita than any place on the Earth.
Lars looked around the table and the comments stopped. “All right. You all know what I meant. But back to the point. President Wiley doesn’t want it. What about the passengers?” He looked at Jane.
“Believe it or not, Arrhidaeus is in favor of it,” Jane Carruthers said. Then, at Lars’ expression, continued. “Officially, he is opposed and will claim to be opposed in his messages to Antigonus. But remember, Arrhidaeus was a general in his own right under Alexander, and had enough rank so that he got command of the army after Perdiccas was killed. He knows half the satraps of the eastern empire, and he wants access to them other than through Antigonus.”
“Also,” said Eleanor Kinney, “he is working on a deal with Capot Barca on advancing the India trade.”
“There is no India trade,” Marie said.
“Not yet, Professor. But many of the merchants are confident that there will be. Without the income from Phrygia, the stipend that Antigonus is providing his diplomatic mission is barely enough to pay Arrhidaeus’ fare on the Queen. So he is trying to work his way into a deal. Any deal. He isn’t stupid. He’s looking to his retirement.”
“I’m not sure how that does us any good, Eleanor. Antigonus is still opposed to the trip up the Persian Gulf, and Arrhidaeus will be screaming just as loudly that we are violating our neutrality.”
“I don’t think that’s going to matter. We will have enough plausible reasons to make the trip that we can argue it was justified on purely financial grounds,” Eleanor said.
“And Arrhidaeus assures us that we will have at least one official request from a satrap that both sides have endorsed,” Jane said. “Probably Tlepolemus, satrap of Carmania. And that will give us all the political cover we need.”
“You’re in favor?” Lars asked.
“Yes, for two reasons,” Jane said. “Well, more than two, but two really major reasons and they are both named oil. The main oil producer is New America. The main oil transporter is the Reliance, now owned by New America. The only other oil transporter is Ptolemy’s Egypt.” She glanced over at Roxane. “Sorry, but the degree of control you have over Ptolemy’s actions is very slight.” She looked back to Lars. “Ptolemy’s Egypt, which gets most of its oil from New America, but some from the Persian Gulf. Between them, they represent the fourth century BCE version of the Standard Oil Trust. Without any desire to impugn anyone’s motives, we need to develop and maintain alternative sources of oil.”
“She’s right, Skipper,” Anders said. “And I don’t mind impugning their motives. The only reason Wiley isn’t on the comm daily, threatening our fuel supply, is because he doesn’t have to say it out loud. We already know it. Ptolemy is worse. We have to buy our fuel from New America, and we h
ave to get it from fueling stations that are owned by New America and Ptolemy.” He turned, not to Jane, but to Roxane. “Do you really think that you can get us an oil supply in the Persian Gulf?”
“I think so, yes,” Roxane said. “Especially with Arrhidaeus’ help.”
Lars looked around the table, collecting nods from Marie, Jane, Eleanor, Anders, Dag and Roxane.
“Very well then. Jane, announce the proposed schedule change to the ship’s passengers and ask for comment. The Queen isn’t a democracy, but we do want to keep our passengers reasonably happy.”
“Who knows, Captain. We might pick up some more passengers,” Jane said.
Lars leaned back in his chair again. “Okay, Dag, you got the trip to the Persian Gulf for your girlfriend. Now give. Just what does Eumenes have up his sleeve?”
“It’s all about Thrace,” Dag said.
“Thrace?” Anders asked in surprise.
“Anders, let him explain. Dag, explain.”
“There is a group of military historians and science fiction buffs in Fort Plymouth. It’s not a big group, half a dozen of them, including a guy named Paul Howard. Eumenes has been consulting with them, looking for ideas and knowledge about how wars will be fought in the future. Anyway, Paul Howard told him about a strategic doctrine in a science fiction book. It’s called…” Dag went on to describe The Tactics of Mistake and how Eumenes was planning to use it.
Kazanlak, Thrace
July 23, 319 BCE
Seuthes III listened to the report in surprise bordering on shock. Why would he do it? Eumenes was smart, that much was obvious from a single meeting. And he was a Thracian, even if he was the son of a wagoneer. Making a mistake like this seemed very much out of character.
“Eumenes is an idiot, Sire,” said Seluca, “but I see a possibility here. Lysimachus will rush east to attack Eumenes in coordination with Cassander. He will want to be in on the kill to cement his reputation…”