“Oh,” said Larissa. She holstered her gun. “We’ve been expecting you. Welcome.”
“Yes, yes, we need as much help as we can get,” echoed the professor. “Please join us.” As the men climbed off their horses, the professor turned to Larissa. “How was your flight?”
“It was great.” She remembered she was still wearing the goggles and pushed them up to the top of her head. Then she realized her hat was gone. “The only problem is that I lost my hat.”
“Fortunately, it did not go far.” The professor produced Larissa’s hat from behind a nearby rock. He handed it to her with a flourish and a bow.
She dusted it off, placed the goggles back on the hat, and set it on her head.
The professor nodded, then led Onofre Cisneros and his men to a place where they could tend their horses.
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“A detachment of American soldiers has been seen approaching from the northeast, sir.” The airman who delivered the report snapped a smart salute.
“Thank you, Airman. Stand by.” Captain Makarov looked toward the general.
General Gorloff shook his head. They had been grounded nearly two weeks and still had nearly one more week to go before repairs to the Czar Nicholas would be complete. However, the Czarina Marie was in full operating condition. “How many men are there?”
“It appears to be a company of cavalry and a small artillery unit, sir,” reported the airman.
Gorloff nodded. “Have the Czarina Marie wait until they’ve formed up ranks. Once they have, send her aloft, maneuver over their position and drop bombs until they’re decimated or disperse.”
“General Gorloff, may we suggest that we be used to infiltrate the minds of some of the American military leaders. We could sway them to your way of thinking. It would waste less ammunition and cost fewer lives,” said Legion.
Gorloff shook his head. No, Legion, not this time. They would know what we are thinking. It would give their officers a great advantage.
“If we infiltrated their minds, we could keep them from reporting to their superiors,” countered Legion.
“It’s too much of a risk,” said Gorloff, aloud. He looked from Makarov to the airman. “Carry out my orders.”
The airman snapped another salute, turned, and left to deliver the orders to the captain of the Czarina Marie. Captain Makarov moved from one foot to the other as he nervously looked out the window.
“Legion, would you please allow Captain Makarov and I to have a private conversation—without listening to us?” asked the general.
“Very well,” said the entity from the back of the general’s mind.
The general waited until he felt his mind go quiet and then stepped up next to the captain.
“We can dismiss Legion as easy as that?” said the captain.
“It would seem so.” Gorloff nodded.
The captain reached up and rubbed his temples. “It is a relief to have some quiet after his continual chatter in my mind. When he first entered my mind, I thought I was going mad. Eventually I got used to it, but after months of chatter, the sense of encroaching madness has returned.”
“I understand,” said the general. “However, I think you are troubled by more than Legion’s persistent chattering.”
“On one hand, Legion aids us in our victories. On the other hand, Legion seems content to treat our enemies as equals.”
Gorloff pursed his lips and watched as the Czarina Marie dropped ballast and began lifting off from the ground. “Legion has articulated the differences between Russians and Americans better than any general or politician I have ever met. And yet…”
“And yet he seems to treat those differences as trivial, as though they are barely important.” Captain Makarov finished the thought.
The Czarina Marie was now airborne and Gorloff could see the American forces. He retrieved a telescope from next to the airship’s controls and studied the formation. Cannons were being wheeled around to face the grounded airship.
The captain continued. “Legion has shown us that if America becomes a real world power, our countries will be at each other’s throats. We likely would destroy the world. The only way to save the world is to keep America from becoming a world power. That much is clear.”
“If America must be dominated, why does Legion treat them as equals?” Gorloff looked at the captain and shrugged. “I begin to wonder if Legion has a different objective than ours.” He raised the telescope to his eye again.
A hatch opened on the bottom of the Czarina Marie. The first bomb was dropped just as the Americans were loading a cannon ball. An explosion rent the air. The shock wave sent ripples through the Czar Nicholas. Horses and men began to scatter. Another bomb fell from the Czarina Maria and soon another cannon was destroyed. Those men that were left began to retreat back toward the northeast.
The general passed the telescope to the captain, then put his hand on the captain’s arm. “Whatever happens, we must be steadfast in our objective.”
“Very good, General Gorloff.” The captain raised the telescope to his eye and nodded appreciatively.
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Fatemeh, Professor Maravilla, and Onofre Cisneros watched as six pirates in mechanical owls darted around each other over the Grand Canyon. They were getting the hang of operations and were practicing fast maneuvers so they could avoid bullets or anything else the airships might throw at them.
“Adapting the steam engines to use manganese peroxide, zinc and potassium chlorate rather than oil was a stroke of genius, Captain,” said the professor with open admiration. “We have extended the range of the owls and the chemicals weigh far less than oil.”
“Thank Monturiol i Estarriol in Spain. I just adapted his design for my submarine. I’m glad we were able to adapt it to the owls as well.” Captain Cisneros turned toward Fatemeh. “We have owls, we have brave men and women to fly them. That leaves only one question. How do we use them to bring down the airships?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” interjected Maravilla. “Based on the newspaper reports from Montana, one ship dropped some kind of material as it lifted off. I’m guessing the material must have been ballast. If that’s true, these airships must be balloons, but they’re enormous. Hot air alone cannot make them stay aloft.”
“You’re thinking they must use hydrogen.” Captain Cisneros nodded. “It would be easy to build some kind of bomb that could make the hydrogen in those ships explode.”
“Precisely!” exclaimed the professor.
“Absolutely not.” Fatemeh’s hands were on her hips. “Our goal is not to destroy the airships. We merely want them to land. We want the Russians aboard those ships to surrender and leave.”
Cisneros and Maravilla sighed together. To Fatemeh, they looked like two young boys who had been told they couldn’t play a dangerous game. She had to fight not to laugh at their apparent disappointment.
After a moment Maravilla smiled and punched Cisneros in the arm. “If we don’t destroy them, perhaps we can find out about them, learn what makes them work!”
“Then we can build our own airships,” chimed in the former pirate captain.
Now Fatemeh did laugh. “That’s the spirit! We have more to gain if we don’t destroy the ships than if we do.”
“So, our objective is to get aboard and force them to land.” Cisneros nodded. “We’ll have to scout them out, find their vulnerable points.”
Maravilla rubbed his chin. “The reports from Montana said they had hatches on the bottom. Maybe we can exploit those.”
Cisneros looked at his former crewmates flying around in the steam powered, clockwork owls. “It’ll be like taking ships at sea.”
“That’s why I wanted you and your men,” said Fatemeh. “You avoided taking lives when you captured ships. I believe you can do that with these airships as well.”
“We should have the men practice with grappling hooks,” said the captain. “In case they need to pull themselves up into an airship.�
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“We could also land on top,” suggested Maravilla. “The owls’ claws could grip onto the fabric at the top of the ship and allow someone to cut their way inside.” The professor also looked at the pirates flying around. “That only leaves one last question. We have a dozen owls almost complete, but only eleven pilots. Should we finish all twelve, or should we use the final owl for spare parts?”
“Are those birds out there?”
All three whirled around at the voice of the stranger who had approached silently. He was a young man, not yet twenty years old. Fatemeh smiled broadly at the now-familiar face. “We’ll need all twelve owls,” she said. “Gentlemen, may I introduce our last rider, Billy McCarty.”
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Legion had traversed the galaxy. He had visited millions of inhabited worlds, but he had never interfered with the life he found there. He had observed and watched as some lifeforms lived in harmony with their worlds. He had watched sadly as others destroyed their own worlds, feeling helpless to prevent what he saw. On Earth, he thought he could prevent these creatures from destroying their own world, help them evolve into a peaceful society.
Legion had enjoyed interacting with Mendeleev. The scientist gave him some hope for humanity. However, Gorloff, Czar Alexander, and the others disturbed him. Even the American mayors tended to see life as a series of skirmishes and conquests. Many humans saw things in terms of one group dominating another. Gorloff was not content to come into America and bring stability. He had to vanquish the Americans. Legion performed calculations and looked toward the future again. This time, the world did not destroy itself quickly. Instead, it was ruled by a totalitarian Russian empire. Science and art were relegated to the realm of curiosities. The empire would become something akin to a castle and the other peoples of the world would become serfs, serving that castle.
However, the human spirit was strong. The oppression would not last. Eventually a people somewhere—perhaps the Chinese or the Africans would rise up against the empire and topple it. Perhaps the world would fall into chaos. Or, perhaps great weapons would destroy the world after all. Legion feared he had not saved the world. He had only delayed the inevitable. The answer did not lie with these military minds or the politicians. It lay with men like Mendeleev—men who could envision a better future.
Legion quietly listened to the private conversations of Gorloff and Makarov. They had grown fearful and distrustful. Such men could not save the world. Legion would start looking for the men who could help him fix the problems he had helped to create.
Chapter Fourteen
The Battle of Denver
Colonel Peter Berestetski held onto a handrail in the staging area of the Czar Nicholas’s underbelly. He looked out over the troops assembled there as the airship approached Denver. They looked fine in their sleek, navy blue jackets with brass buttons and gold piping. So far, they had not seen any action that marred their uniforms or matted the polish on their boots. The only ground troops they had encountered were the soldiers in Montana and they had been dispersed quickly from the air.
Berestetski wondered if he would actually have to fire a shot during the campaign. He would be thankful if he never had to raise his gun against another human being. He grew up as a farmer, not a soldier, and wasn’t sure how he would do under the strain of actual combat.
As these thoughts played through his mind, the colonel realized Legion was being strangely quiet on the subject. Legion? he ventured silently—half-glad for the lack of voices in his mind and half-fearful the alien presence had left.
“We’re here,” came the response, more distant than usual. If he didn’t know better, Berestetski would have said Legion sounded tired.
Is it likely we’ll encounter any more resistance in Denver than we have in other cities? asked the colonel.
“Based on what happened in Montana, there is a high probability of encountering combat troops in Denver,” said Legion. “In our experience, soldiers have minds intent on killing. They cannot be swayed as easily as civilians who are seeking to understand a situation.”
Peter Berestetski swallowed and looked over at Major Kozmin, who stood nearby. The major was a hardened veteran of many battles. The colonel did his best to mimic the major’s stern features that betrayed no outward sign of fear or doubt. He made a quick check of his sidearm and ammunition to make sure all was in order.
A short time later, an airman entered the bay and delivered a report to Major Kozmin. The major nodded to the colonel and then barked an order to the assembled men. They all stood, checked their weapons, then slung them behind their backs. The Czar Nicholas was nearly in position to deploy the troops. The airman, who acted as a runner, turned and left the bay.
General Gorloff knew the location of the Denver Mint from his time in Washington. It was located in the Clark, Gruber, and Company Bank Building at the intersection of two streets called 16th and Holladay. The airships would maneuver to a position near downtown where the troops would disembark. They would march to the bank, while the airships supported them from above.
A few minutes later, the airman returned and delivered another message to the major. The major pointed and soldiers released the latches that held the bay doors in place. Other soldiers dropped the rope ladders over the side and began their descent. Berestetski swallowed hard.
Once most of the soldiers had gone over the side, he watched the major take his place and begin the descent. The colonel then took his place at the top of the ladder.
There was a light wind that caused the rope ladder to sway as the colonel descended. Fortunately, Legion still helped him control his muscles and reflexes and he nimbly made his way down to the ground. As a farmer, he wasn’t bad at climbing ropes into haylofts. However, he wasn’t sure he could have made the full descent from the swaying airship to the street below without Legion’s help.
Finally, the last few soldiers made their way down from the airship. The colonel watched for a moment as the two airships rose and airmen pulled the ladders back into the bellies of the craft.
The colonel and the major looked around and took stock of where they were. They had been dropped on an empty plot of land near the South Platte River. Briefly taking stock of the landscape, the colonel thought the South Platte hardly deserved to be called a river, it was so small. After a moment, the colonel saw railroad tracks. They would follow the tracks into the city until they reached 16th Street and then turn southeast toward the mint itself.
The colonel spoke to the major and they confirmed plans with each other. The major had his lieutenants muster the men and they began their march into the heart of Denver.
The march was fairly short, perhaps three-quarters of a mile. Colonel Berestetski shook his head when he saw the object of their quest. It was a squat, brick building—two stories tall with a small, castle-like tower on top. American troops surrounded the building. When they saw the Russians, they knelt on the ground, aimed, and then fired.
Legion reported that the Russians had lost six men. The narrow streets and surrounding buildings hindered the aim of the American soldiers. The Russian lieutenants had their men take position and return the American troops’ fire. Legion estimated that perhaps one hundred American troops guarded the building.
Berestetski eyed the surrounding buildings. He ordered ten men to accompany him into the building across the street from the Denver mint. It was a general store. Inside, a stunned clerk held up his hands when he saw the smartly dressed soldiers enter the room.
“Is there anyone upstairs?” asked the colonel.
The clerk shook his head. “Nothing up there but storage.” Berestetski wondered if the clerk was surprised he spoke English. Waving the thought aside, he sent five of the men upstairs to make sure everything was secure. He sent two more men out to retrieve the major, then turned to the clerk. “You should leave. This is a dangerous place.”
The clerk nodded quickly and then darted out the door.
A few minutes later, Ma
jor Kozmin entered, accompanied by two dozen men. Some remained on the ground floor while others accompanied the colonel and the major upstairs to their command post for the battle.
“From this vantage point, you should overtake the American forces within the hour,” said Legion.
The colonel’s eyebrows came together. He thought it was strange Legion should refer to “you” rather than “we” after all the time they had spent together. He shook the thought aside and made his way upstairs to oversee the battle.
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Ramon breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the order to stop riding. They’d been traveling north for so many days he’d lost track of how long it had been since they left Fort McRae. He climbed off his horse and led it to a place indicated by Sergeant Forrest. He gave the horse a pat and then formed up with the rest of his squad.
Forrest reviewed the men briefly, then dismissed them to set up camp. Ramon looked around. Wherever they were, it was beautiful. Pine trees surrounded them and scented the air. The ground was covered with lush grass. In the distance, to the west, were tall, snow-capped mountains. Ramon gathered they were in Colorado, but that was the extent of his knowledge.
There had been many rumors about where they’d find the airships. Originally, people thought the airships were making for Denver—perhaps to capture the mint just like the Texans had tried back in the Civil War. However, there was also a rumor that said the ships had been grounded in Montana and American troops had already engaged them. Another rumor suggested the airships might be bound for St. Louis, where they could virtually shut down all of the nation’s interstate commerce. Still others speculated they were on the way to Washington, D.C. itself.
Ramon found himself dismissing those last two rumors. If there was any truth to them, why were they always marching north?
Soon after the campsite was situated, Forrest returned and addressed the men. “They’ve got a mess tent over yonder. Go grab yourself some food, then come back.”
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