The radar array fed data to the tower about the weather as well as aircraft in the area. He knew Max was working on a copy of the device for Emory and the other airports as well as the aircraft. He'd helped with some of it. Unfortunately, the things Max called magnetrons were a bit tricky to make.
He ran through his maintenance checklist, made sure everything was moving freely, and that water had not seeped in past the seals, then wrapped up and buttoned it all down. He made a cursory check of the radio antenna and boxes, and then climbed down. It was high time to get warm again before he had to work on something else.
~~~^~~~
Cecily checked on the production of HAM radios and batteries. Priorities had been shifted to make more of them for the spies and military personnel. They had hand-cranked generators to recharge the batteries.
Some of the gear sent to the front by rail and truck included materials to build a temporary hangar at each of the airports. The giant structures were like a tent with a truss skeleton inside. Everyone was concerned about how they'd hold up in bad weather.
For the moment though, the tents were all they had available, so they'd have to do.
She went over and checked the CNC shop next. A part was in the largest machine. It was cutting a plywood composite strut for the tail assembly of the next big aircraft.
They had to machine either plywood, carbon fiber, or rare amounts of metal they had managed to scrounge up for the parts to the aircraft. The composite materials were made by laying layers of the material in opposite directions, then suffusing them with resin. They were then placed in a vacuum bag and the air sucked out.
Where possible they were placed in their single giant autoclave. The thing was massive, and she'd cringed at the amount of metal it had taken to make it. The hinge alone … she shook her head. Max had insisted there were quite larger ones, the one they had was only three meters deep and one meter in diameter as he said. But it did the job.
They had a lot of failures though. Max diagnosed each and placed them on the wall of shame. Each failure was displayed with a plaque as to why it had failed. Everyone who worked on the aircraft and vehicles had to go through the wall and learn from their mistakes.
She'd wondered about the design; Max called the aircraft a DC-3 hybrid, but it had curled wing tips for fuel efficiency and as much aerodynamics as possible incorporated into the design. The engines weren't turbofans though, a concept she was still trying to grasp.
It was the most complex thing they'd ever built. Even the ground vehicles didn't compare. Sure some had radios and batteries and such, but the aircraft were covered in moving surfaces. Everything had to be light weight too.
Max muttered about the lack of radar and other sensors a lot. He had managed to get a few things in, like the heater coils to de-ice the wings and parts of the plane. They still needed to keep the aircraft out of bad weather though.
She had wondered why they had no wood in the wing structures until Max had muttered about a 1931 crash. She'd been confused until the king had explained the reference.
Apparently, a Terran aircraft called a Fokker F-10 had crashed when water had seeped into the wing and dissolved the glue. There was also the concern of ice expansion doing similar things. They had tested their resin glue, but Charlie had insisted that they needed to do long-term tests too.
She looked over to see Doctor Billings. He was checking the paint job. She remembered him asking about all of the wind turbines on the roofs of taberna, businesses, public buildings, and prominent private citizen homes all over the capital. She'd been amused by that and Max's shrug. The doctor had been concerned about birds, but Max had said something about rats with wings.
“It is impressive,” Nate said, coming over to her and shaking his head. “Every time I see them, I keep remembering what I saw away from this place. You folks are doing wonders.”
“We're trying,” she said, turning as Doctor Delouses came up as well. The woman was obviously Doctor Billing's partner. She wondered if they'd just get it over with and agree to be mates, but apparently, they were in denial or something.
She was glad Max was over that nonsense.
“I'm waiting for them to make those flying air turbines. You know, from Big Hero 6 ?” Mary asked with a grin.
Cecily frowned in confusion.
“Big umm …,” Mary realized who she was talking to.
“They are hollow blimp cylinders with air turbines inside,” Nate explained.
Mary's puzzled expression deepened. What he said made no sense.
“Think of an inflated cylinder. Hollow on the ends. The outer walls are double thick and sealed. You've got air control surfaces on the outside,” Nate said, using his hand to approximate a cylinder.
“Inside you have a wind turbine. It's tethered to the ground. A power line runs from the generator to the ground, supplying power to the ground.”
She cocked her head and then nodded slowly. She had remembered Max mentioning something about that.
“The skin is plastic, probably black since that would get the sun involved to help heat the contents. Helium inside over hydrogen; hydrogen is explosive.”
Cecily nodded with a slight shiver. She'd seen the demonstration on the dangers of hydrogen. She had no idea water could break down and be dangerous like that.
“They were experimenting with them on Earth. It's a big green thing,” Nate said, looking over to where Max was explaining something to a group of new techs.
“The blimps have to be brought down and placed in a hangar to protect them from storms,” Mary murmured.
“I don't think that'll stop him,” Nate said with a grin.
Cecily sighed. “Knowing Max? Probably not for long.”
~~~^~~~
“So, you are going?” Deidra asked, eyeing Eugene.
He looked at her and then turned and sat next to her. “You didn't think I'd sit it out here, did you?”
“What about the Terrans?”
“They can wait. Family comes first,” he said firmly.
She nodded. “I'm still not happy about that contraption,” she said.
“You? I'm flying with no radar, in bad weather, and I remember crashing before!” he said with a shake of his head. “I'm scared.”
“But you are going anyway.”
“To the front. I know better than to try to go all the way in.”
She nodded. “Just to the front,” she said, waving a stern index finger at him. “Not a step further until she's safe.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her and smiled.
“No.”
He moved in closer and looked cross-eyed at the tip of her finger.
“No,” she said but her stern demeanor cracked a little.
He saw the opening and moved in closer, smirking. “No.”
He caught her finger and kissed the tip, then pretended to stick it up his nose. She giggled. He then pretended to turn his head and gnaw on it.
“No …”
He leaned past the hand as she withdrew it to kiss her. She melted a bit. He kissed her jaw and cheek, then her neck. She sighed. Then he blew a fart on her collar bone, making her guffaw and then thrash with laughter as she tried to pummel him.
He rocked with laughter as she giggled.
“Gods you are impossible!”
“Yeah, but I got a laugh and a smile out of you,” he said with a grin and another kiss.
She sighed as she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him.
“One for the road?” he asked teasingly.
“Impossible,” she growled with a laugh.
Chapter 42
Duluth
With good weather and a steady supply of material, the Imperial forces set up resupply point 350 miles northwest of the border on the other side of the river, which officially was the southern border of Duluth.
They staged the aircraft from the temporary runway, using shovels to clear a strip the best they could. A small security detachment was flown in and
then a mechanic. They had tents but quickly improved upon them with logs from a copse of trees nearby.
When a second squad was formed, they went out and captured a nearby farm. The owners of the farm were sequestered while the troops commandeered the farm's draft animals to clean up the runway and surrounding area.
From there a steady progression of men and material were flown in and the temporary shelters expanded to an improvised hangar. At least one Cessna flew in daily with one to two troops and a half ton of gear or supplies.
Once they had a good base established, the aircraft had refueled and moved further north, dropping spy teams off at villages along the way. A radio tower had been set up with the ability to pick up radio transmissions and relay them. It was hoped that they'd be able to pick up Legatus Tycho, but there were no responses to the brief daily radio transmissions.
~~~^~~~
A scout led the resistance to an abandoned guard tower at an intersection of dirt roads. The snow-covered tower had spikes sticking out and around it plus stone walls to protect it from native beasts.
Tycho allowed the scouts to check it out. They returned with news that it had been abandoned for a time, and there were no supplies there.
Tycho considered staying there, but the scout added that there were recent disturbances in the dust and a fire had been laid in the hearth at some point. They couldn't pinpoint when though.
He didn't trust that news and forced the troops to abandon the idea of bedding down in the fort. He did order the scout to go back and start a fire in the fireplace with some branches and any furniture or wood they found.
He looked at the others as they watched the smoke from the chimney, and then ordered them to hide in the shadows. The wood was green and wet enough to draw the eyes of anyone in the area.
“And now we wait.”
That earned a look from the trooper nearest him. He smiled coldly and then made a show of checking the trails that led to the fort.
~~~^~~~
Sometime after nightfall he dozed off briefly, but a guard woke him and the others with a hiss. He opened his eyes and watched as enemy soldiers headed down the northern road to attack the tower.
“Do we attack?” a trooper asked.
Tycho started to answer but then paused when a mittened hand touched his arm and then pointed to the eastern road. He turned and used his binoculars to pick out another force there. He couldn't get a hard read on their numbers or equipment.
“No. We back off,” he said, hand signing the group to head back the way they'd come.
“All that for nothing,” a trooper muttered.
“Not nothing. We didn't get killed,” another answered.
“True,” the first said grudgingly.
~~~^~~~
Kattegat
In desperation, Olaf had them try different forms of armor to see what could protect them from the infernal weapons.
They found that at range a lot of layers helped to some degree, but only very thick metal at an angle tended to shed or destroy a round.
“Now what? Chainmail, leather, nothing worked. We don't have the metal for that,” Percival said with a shake of his head.
“I don't know.” Olaf fingered a dent. “Even if we had the metal, it would be heavy and unwieldy in battle,” he said thoughtfully.
“They carried no special armor. It seems armor can only protect against hand weapons,” the knight said. Olaf turned to him. “So, the best armor is not to be in the sight of those infernal weapons.
Olaf turned to look thoughtfully back to the weapon and soldier and then nodded.
~~~^~~~
“Why am I here for this?” Olaf rumbled as he joined the rest of the leadership in a warehouse. The long building had stone walls, narrow windows high up, rafters, and a shingled roof. It was one of the few intact warehouses in the capital; it had been carefully maintained by the owners and even upgraded.
The owner was not around anymore, however.
“We have a problem,” Domina Rasmussen said as she indicated Dominus Fenton.
Olaf frowned as he looked around and then picked up a fruit from a bushel. He looked at it, but it seemed too green and pale. “Unripe?”
“All of them,” the domina drawled.
“All?”
The drott turned to look at the large warehouse.
“Yes, all. What do we do with this?” Fenton demanded, dropping a fruit and stomping on it.
“Well, not wasting it would be wise,” Olaf drawled. “Where is the owner? And you didn't answer my original question.”
“You are here because this is a problem that affects us all,” the domina stated. “Food is an issue in the capital and castle.”
“Ah.”
“Each time you send a detachment of men out they take stores with them and that depletes what we have. This was supposed to tied us over until the end of hiems . Now that is in doubt.”
“Ah.”
He turned to the dominus. “I gave orders to find the owner but, apparently he and his family are dead or fled. At the moment, they are out of our reach either way,” Fenton grumbled.
A lean man came over, looking down and as small as he could. It would be comical for the tall man to scrunch up like that but at the moment the leaders didn't care for humor.
“You are one of the managers here?”
“I was very junior,” the man said. “Julius …”
“I don't care about your name I care about answers,” Fenton growled, taking another fruit in his hand and then squeezing it under the man's nose. “What is with this? What fool did this?”
“They might have picked them to prevent the frost from destroying them?” the domina asked.
Fenton ignored her. He continued to glare at the stuttering Julius. “Speak!”
The tall man shook but admitted that the owners had been working with the princess. “I had no part in it! Please! I just followed orders! Spare me and my family! Please!”
Fenton took a step back as Olaf grimaced. Too many people had fallen prey to Stephan's pack as of late. It was something the drott wanted to handle but was always too busy or distracted to look into properly.
“There is no shame in that. Any who say otherwise will answer to us. Now, what were they doing?”
“They … the princess said they can ripen the fruit and vegetables on demand.”
“On demand?” the domina asked, sounding as if she didn't believe him.
The man nodded eagerly.
“That would be an interesting trick. If it were true,” the drott drawled. “To be able to ripen food only when it was needed at any time?”
“How?”
“I only know that it takes cool temperatures to keep them asleep. Beyond that no one knows; otherwise, we would have done something by now,” Julius said.
“Ah,” Fenton said with a grimace. He turned away.
They summoned the princess once they returned to the castle. She came and looked a bit surprised at being allowed out of her tower room.
She looked a bit wane, and it was clear her clothes were a bit shabby as was her hair. She had a lot of split ends and it was unkempt. The dominus sized her up and then placed a bowl of the unripen fruit in front of her. “You had something to do with this I take it?”
She looked at the fruit. Her mouth instinctively watered but she didn't let it show. “I'm not sure what you mean.”
“We have a warehouse full of unripen fruit. More than one,” the domina said. “According to the manager, it was your idea.”
The princess looked like she caught on and nodded. “Ah,” she murmured. “The Terrans were teaching it to us. Doctor Delouses, the botanist. They have used science to ripen things on demand.”
“So? How do we do it?”
“You just ask like that?” the princess asked, cocking her head.
“Don't play games,” Fenton growled dangerously.
She turned to him. If she was to be cowed, she didn't look it at all. Instead
, she just shrugged. “I'm not playing a game. I'm just curious,” she said evenly.
“How do you ripen the fruit?” the domina asked.
“I don't know.”
“We can torture you …,” Fenton growled.
“I don't. Know ,” she insisted. “I don't. It was on my laptop. I scanned it but I really didn't understand it. I was going to deal with that later.”
Hostage Rescue (Princess Rescue Inc Book 2) Page 55