Rally Cry

by William R. Forstchen

  "The water level will be up high enough in another week to start the twenty foot wheels, so we can start cooking the stockpile of ore being brought in," Mina explained. "It'll be another couple of months before the flood backs up enough to get the larger wheels running and eventually there'll be three of them."

  Mina pointed out the huge ore cooker which was taking shape.

  "We'll start there. The ore flux and coke get loaded in. Once we start running at full power I expect to turn out over eight tons a day. We'll need the heavy power for the tilt hammers and rollers further down the line." He pointed to where a swarm of workers were building the massive frames inside the roofless building.

  "Ferguson and I figured that it would be best to go with an older process of making wrought iron and low grade steel for the musket barrels. A British fellow named Cort figured it out about eighty years ago, later on we'll try this new Bessemer process for steel."

  Leading the way, Mina pointed out how the molten iron from the furnace would be divided off. The cast iron coming straight out from the hearth would be sent directly into molds for cast iron artillery barrels and shot. The rest would go through to a puddling hearth where Suzdalian labor crews, using heavy steel rods, would stir the incadescent mass, burning out the carbon. The lumps of red hot wrought iron that resulted would then be conveyed to trip hammers and rollers for processing into musket barrels and the wide variety of metal fixtures needed for the army.

  The balls of molten metal would then be conveyed to yet another hearth where it would be reheated and poured into the molds for light artillery, while the rest would go through the rollers and hammers to turn out musket barrels.

  Finally off to one side Mina pointed out where small quantities of metal would be taken, sealed in crucibles, and cooked to form high grade crucible steel for tools and musket lock springs.

  Already that section was hard at work, drawing their power from an ever-laboring gang of dozens of Suzdalians who worked the bellows day and night.

  "It's the boring machines that are the hard part," Mina said leading the group out of the massive building that housed the foundry, and to another structure further down the hill.

  "We can cast a rough artillery barrel using molds," Mina explained, "but we need to build a heavy boring machine, which will cut out a smooth, and most importantly, straight tube for the gun. I need more high grade steel for the cutting edges on the boring machines.

  "The same stands for the musket barrels. We can roll and wield barrels around a form. But we still need to make sure the barrels are true. Heaven knows I'd love to be able to mass produce rifle barrels but that's going to be a hand job, since it'll take months to get the tools made for that.

  "Thank God we had half-a-dozen tool and dye makers in the unit or we'd be lost." He directed his glance to where the men were laboring, a gang of Suzdalian apprentices around each Yankee, trying to learn in weeks skills that took years to master.

  John pointed out an open window at a rising structure two hundred yards away that stood next to the empty river bed.

  "The powder mill should be going into production in another month. But there again we need more supplies, especially nitrates, our operation of harvesting from the city latrines and the barns in the countryside is going way too slow.

  "I need more of everything," Mina said sharply, "the old foundry is working full blast to turn out rail and the machinery for Fletcher's farm production but even that isn't enough. Our rail lines could be three miles further ahead if we hadn't diverted the metal for plows, tillers and harrows. I need more power, skilled workers, ore, coke or charcoal, and most of all metal to make the machines."

  "Do what you can," Andrew said quietly. He noticed that John was starting to show wear from all the strain, there was a shrill tone to his voice. He knew he was using up his second in command, in fact was using up most of his men who were driving day and night, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

  "I know you're doing your best John," Andrew said.

  "But I don't think it's good enough," the major said wearily.

  Andrew, not able to lie to his second in command, could only fix him with his gaze.

  "I know," John whispered, "no discouragement in front of the men."

  Andrew nodded in reply.

  Trying to force a smile, John turned away from the group and went back up the hill to the main foundry.

  "It seems we've lost Kal to his work gangs, and Ferguson to some dispute back in the foundry," Emil said. "I'm heading back to the city, but it's such a splendid day for a walk, you know."

  Andrew looked at Kathleen.

  "I think Miss O'Reilly and I need to take a walk," Andrew said, and smiling at the two the doctor quietly left.

  "How have you been doing?" Andrew asked, suddenly feeling nervous as the two of them strolled away from the work site. Avoiding the crowded road they set out instead over the open fields.

  "Andrew, the women are willing enough to learn. I've mastered some of their language, and Tanya has been a tremendous help with translating. But it's like trying to drag these people across a thousand years at the snap of a finger."

  Trying to lighten her mood, Andrew raised his hand and snapped his fingers, but she didn't smile.

  "You might try to will it Andrew, but customs here die hard. They know there's no escape from what they've done, but I dare say many of them wish they hadn't rebelled."

  "But they did, and now they must face the responsibility of it."

  "They never would have if we had not arrived," Kathleen said softly.

  "Kathleen, I sorely wish that were true. Back home it's early autumn in the year 1865. Maybe the war is over, but for us it isn't. And I dare say that you cannot look at Tanya, or so many others of these people, and wish for them another occupation by the Tugars with their slaughter pits and feasts."

  "No, Andrew, I can't," she whispered, drawing close to his side.

  "But I do wish for peace for myself," she said sadly.

  "And somehow I'm a symbol of the war to you. Another officer who is all so good in the art of killing, and most likely will be killed himself before it's ended."

  Wide-eyed, she looked up at him. How could he ever understand, she wondered. How could he know the anguish of losing someone she had once loved. Or the anguish of watching so many die. She'd lost count of the number of times she had held some boy's hand, making believe that she was his mother, or wife, or beloved daughter as he slipped away into darkness.

  Each slipping away had tugged a bit of her soul along with it and as she looked at Andrew she knew that if she allowed her feelings to be released by this strange man, the anguish at the end would be too great. This man could be so cold, so full of that terrifying passion in battle, yet in her heart she knew what was beneath that. She could sense the inner horror at what the war had done to him. She still remembered the first time she had seen him asleep aboard the Ogunquit. His gentle features showing an almost childlike innocence, which soon changed to a dream-driven torment that had moved her to tears. Had he been too scarred, she wondered, both by the war, and whatever it was that she sensed had happened before the war?

  She looked at him closely as they walked across the fields. There was so much she wanted from him, yet never could she allow herself to be hurt as she had been before. To fall in love with this man, only to finally witness the last act as his broken body was brought in before her.

  She looked away and they walked in silence for long minutes, passing from open fields into a small grove of towering pines.

  Suddenly Andrew's hand was on her shoulder and he turned her around to face him.

  "Kathleen, I don't think there's much time," he said quietly, the fear showing in his voice.

  "You mean what's coming?"

  He nodded his head.

  "I can't say it openly to anyone," Andrew whispered. "They all look at me, draw something from me and believe this might just work.

  "You know I had a pr
emonition the night we sailed from City Point. A deep fear that maybe this was a trip of the damned. We had killed so many and, God help me, I thought maybe our souls had been used up. Look at what has happened to young Hawthorne. I love that boy for his moral strength, in many ways he's like my own younger brother," and his voice trailed off.

  "God help me," Andrew whispered, "he's turned into a killer like the rest of us. You know down deep there was a part of me that wanted to leave here, to run away and hide. But then Kal has to start this revolution and I could not leave them to their fate."

  "There was nothing else you could do," Kathleen whispered.

  "But all the talk," Andrew said, his voice starting to choke, "all the talk about liberty and freedom. Such a price we have to pay. If there's any chance, which I doubt, maybe Hawthorne's children will know the joy of such things. But you and I, and all these others that I lead, do the paying and the suffering, and at my command, the dying. You don't know what it's like to look into their eager faces, and know that in the end you'll feed them into the furnace. I've been doing that for over three years now. I once loved the power and pageantry of it all, but Kathleen, it's using me up and I don't have much left to give."

  In spite of her fear of him, Kathleen reached out and touched his face.

  He struggled for control.

  "What I'm trying to say, Kathleen, is that I don't think there's much time left. When the Tugars come, we'll fight but. . ." and his voice trailed off.

  Her restraint broke, and sobbing she flung herself into his arms.

  "I can't find any more strength in me," Andrew whispered hoarsely.

  "I'll help you, my love, I'll help you. You must have strength for them."

  "I'm afraid of being weak," Andrew said, struggling for control.

  "You're strong enough to be weak with me," she whispered through her tears.

  She knew at this moment that she was damning herself to yet more anguish, that like all the others he would slip into the shadows without looking back. But this time at least, she would most likely go into the shadows as well.

  Their lips touched in the gentlest of kisses, and then again with more passion. For how long they stood kissing neither realized, as each became lost in the other, releasing the feelings both had kept so well hidden since they had first met.

  Suddenly Kathleen was aware of a polite cough in the distance.

  Startled, the two looked up.

  Dr. Weiss was standing at the edge of the grove looking straight up.

  "Ah, colonel sir," Weiss said formally, at last lowering his gaze.

  Smiling, the two looked back at the old doctor.

  "All right Emil, what's so all fired important?"

  "Tobias just came back with the Ogunquit."

  "Damn that man," Andrew said, "he always did know how to interrupt."

  "It's good news, Andrew. They've got a load of high quality lead, and by heavens they've even found copper. A courier was coming up here looking for you but I figured I'd bring the news myself."

  "Well, let's get going," Andrew said, looking at Kathleen, who stood drying her eyes.

  Emil smiled good-naturedly at the two. He had them figured from the start, and by heavens if ever the two needed each other it was now.

  The two stepped past him, smiling nervously at each other and then back at Emil as they climbed aboard the wagon he had brought back.

  Emil wasn't half so worried about Mina as he had been about Andrew and he congratulated himself on his little plan of suggesting an inspection tour with her along.

  "Well, for you two at least it looks like a truly fine day," Emil said, climbing up and grabbing hold of the reins, "a truly fine day," and the three laughed together as the wagon jolted its way back towards the city.

  " Twas the strangest damn sight I've ever laid eyes on, O'Donald said excitedly. "Like something out of them Roman times. Their ships were driven by oars, with rams on the front, by Jesus. But you should have seen the scallywags turn tail when one of my pieces barked off a shot across their bows."

  O'Donald looked around at the group beaming, while pouring another drink.

  "Major O'Donald's artillery might have done its part," Tobias sniffed, "but the Ogunquit laying off their city finished it."

  Andrew held up his hand to fend off any dispute. There was no love lost between the two and the voyage had only heightened it.

  It was the glass makers who had started the voyage, when Fletcher had come back one day to report they were using scraps of lead to tint their product and also as a solder to join pieces of stain glassed work together.

  The answer had been right in front of them during their meeting after the rebellion, for Rasnar's windows had all been soldered with lead but nobody had thought to look. From the glass makers the investigation had gone to a ship's captain whose family had jealously guarded the secret. Finally bribing the man with a substantial amount of gold it was revealed that the city Tobias had sailed past the last time was the source of the metal.

  Tobias had been eager to go alone and was not at all pleased to be accompanied by O'Donald commanding two field pieces and twenty rifle men. Everyone knew it was insurance for Tobias's return but not a word had been spoken about that part of the plan.

  "So there we stayed anchored for three days," O'Donald continued, "until finally them scoundrels came out to the ship."

  "You was right, colonel darling, them were real tough merchant folk. The haggling went on for days, but finally we traded them a single rifle like you said, some powder and some clocks Hawthorne made. We got all the lead they had, forty tons' worth."

  "Not nearly enough," Andrew replied softly. "We need five hundred rounds per man, for up to twenty thousand muskets. That comes to well over three hundred tons of the stuff."

  "Oh, but we got a regular trading scheme going. I promised them fifty muskets and one of them four-pound guns, along with five hundred clocks, if they can come up with two hundred and fifty tons more by the end of the summer."

  "I don't like this at all," Tobias said coldly. "Arming those heathen could hurt us in the end."

  "I know, I know," Andrew said, shaking his head. From what Tobias had already told him the people at the south end of the sea were Phoenicians or Carthaginians, the writing samples brought back confirmed that. Chances were they'd take the guns apart, experiment with the powder, and figure things out.

  "And the Tugars and them."

  "They call theirs the Merki. Claim they're still two years away."

  "For their sake I hope so."

  "You told them we were fighting?"

  "They didn't believe it, said we were crazy."

  "So there's no place to run south after all," Andrew said quietly, fixing Tobias with his gaze, but the captain remained silent.

  "And the copper?"

  O'Donald reached under the table and pulled up a copper urn.

  "Got five hundred like this back on the ship, along with a couple of hundred ingots, weighing five pounds or so each."

  Andrew beamed with delight. Now it was up to Mitchell to figure out his telegraph system and Ferguson to set up a wire works.

  "We promised to return in a month for the next load."

  "Let's just hope those people don't figure out how to make a rifle in the meantime," Andrew said evenly, and though the others laughed he was silent. He could only hope that they weren't creating a new problem for their neighbors or if they could survive all this, for themselves as well.

  But as he looked across the table and saw Kathleen sitting on the other side, for a moment at least, his fears washed away.

  Chapter 14

  Again it was the same, Muzta thought grimly, walking down the main street of the city. The streets were empty, the scent of death in the air.

  "Can you give me any estimates?" Muzta asked, looking to the chooser for the Maya city of Tultac.

  "My lord Qar Qarth, the fever was in full rampage here before we even approached. It is worse than anything we
have seen before. With luck perhaps only two in ten will survive, and most of them will be scarred and thus unclean. The cattle claim it started two months back, before the last snows had cleared and we started to move."

  "Then we will eat unclean meat," Muzta roared.

  His staff was speechless at his outburst. Shouting a wild curse, Muzta pressed on down the street.

  Muzta turned and looked back at Alem.

  "How, dammit, how? We ride faster—the entire clan is three days' march behind me. They started before the snows even ended. In three months we've made a journey of seven. I thought to rest here till early fall and then push on to Rus before winter. How, tell me?"

  "It is a curse," Alem said, looking upward. "Perhaps the everlasting heavens have cursed us."

  Muzta looked at Alem with pure hatred. All he needed was for this man to start calling down some heavenly displeasure as the answer to the pestilence on the cattle. In a short breath the horde would turn their wrath somewhere, and Tula, he was sure, would point the finger.

  "Our people will stay here," Muzta said grimly. "We eat unclean meat if need be, but we stay here for but two moons and then we push on. We must spare some of the healthy ones here, else when we come this way again the entire Maya people both eastern and western will be gone and there will be no wintering grounds for eight hundred leagues."

  "But my lord," Tula said, stepping forward, "that is a circling away. I am more concerned with here and now."

  "And I am concerned with the survival of the horde both here and for our next generation as well," Muzta roared.

  "If you keep driving us there will not be a next generation," Tula said darkly.

  All fell silent at Tula's outburst. There was blood challenge in the air. More than one wanted it settled, even though they knew full well that if Muzta fell to Tula's sword, civil war would most likely be the result.

  Muzta stepped toward Tula, who did not back away.

  "Are you challenging me openly?" Muzta hissed.

  The confrontation held for what seemed like an eternity, until with a growl Tula turned away.

  "Send riders back to the horde," Muzta snapped. "Tell them to come forward quickly."