Scott Westerfeld - Leviathan

He’d be remembered as a traitor for all time.

“There must be another choice.”

“Of course. You can stay here and fight when the Germans come. And die with the rest of us.”

Alek shook his head. It made no sense, Volger talking like this. The man always had a strategy, some plan to bend the world to his will. He couldn’t be giving up.

“You needn’t decide yet, Alek,” Volger said. “We have a day or so before the Germans return. You might have a long life in front of you, if you surrender.” He shrugged again. “But I’m done with giving you advice.”

With that, the man turned and walked away.

Alek took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Dylan opened it, frowning when he saw Alek.

“You look barking awful.”

“I’ve come to see Dr. Barlow,” Alek said.

The young airman opened the door of the machine room wider. “She’ll be back soon. But she’s in a foul mood, I’m afraid.”

“I know about your engine trouble,” Alek said. He’d decided not to hide that Count Volger had been spying on them. For his plan to work he and the Darwinists had to trust each other.

Dylan pointed at the box of mysterious eggs. “Aye, and on top of the engines, that barking idiot Newkirk didn’t keep these warm enough last night. But it’s all my fault, of course, as far as the boffin is concerned.”

Alek looked down at the box—only three eggs were left.

“That’s too bad.”

“The mission’s stuffed anyway.” Dylan pulled a thermometer from the box and checked it. “With no engines we’ll be lucky to make it back to France.”

“That’s what I’ve come about,” Alek said. “Our walker’s also finished.”

“Are you sure?” Dylan gestured at the drawers that filled the room. “We could give you any spare parts you need. They’re useless to us.”

“We need more than parts, I’m afraid,” Alek said. “We can’t stand the walker back upright.”

“Barking machines!” Dylan exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve never seen a beastie that couldn’t get up on its own. Well, except a turtle. And one of my auntie’s cats.”

Alek raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure your auntie’s cat would have survived that aerial bomb.”

“You’d be surprised. He’s quite fat.” Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“That’s the problem,” Alek said. “I don’t think the others will, not if it means surrendering to the French. But if we could sneak away when you land, then maybe …”

Maybe he could convince his men to save themselves. And perhaps he could salvage a little of Volger’s respect.

Dylan was nodding. “We’ll be crash-landing in some random spot, so I doubt there’ll be an honor guard there to greet us. Mind you, it’s a dodgy business, free-ballooning in a hydrogen breather. Anything could happen.”

“What are your chances?”

“Not so bad.” Dylan shrugged. “One time I flew a Huxley halfway across England—and all by myself!”

“Really?” Alek said. For a boy, Dylan seemed to have had the most extraordinary adventures. For a moment Alek wished he could forget his birthright and become just like him, a common soldier without land or title.

“It was my first day in the Service,” Dylan began, “and an unexpected storm came up, one of the worst London’s ever seen. Tore up whole buildings from the ground, including—”

The door suddenly flew open and Dr. Barlow swept in, wielding a map case and a furious expression.

“The captain is a fool,” she announced. “This ship is full of idiots!”

Dylan saluted. “But the eggs are warm as toast, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s reassuring, though meaningless under the circumstances. Back to France he wants to go!” Dr. Barlow spun the map case in her hands, then looked up distractedly. “Ah, Alek. I hope your walking machine is in better shape than this benighted airship.”

He bowed. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Master Klopp doesn’t think we can get it standing again.”

“Is it as bad as that?”

“I’m afraid so. In fact, I’m here to ask if we can come with you.” Alek looked at his boots. “If you can manage the weight of five extra men, we’d be in your debt.”

Dr. Barlow tapped the map case against her palm. “Lift won’t be a problem. We’re exhausting our own food as well as yours, giving everything to the animals.” She stared out the window. “And our crew is smaller than it once was.”

Alek nodded. He’d seen the shrouded bodies outside, and the men laboring to bury them in the iron-hard ice beneath the snow.

“But France isn’t neutral territory,” she said. “You’ll be taken prisoner.”

“That’s the favor I’ve come to ask.” Alek took a deep breath. “You’ll be coming down in some random spot, Dylan says. We could slip away the moment you land.”

“And no one the wiser,” Dylan added.

Dr. Barlow nodded slowly. “It might work. And we certainly owe you a debt, Alek. But I’m afraid it’s not up to me.”

“Are you saying the captain won’t look the other way?” Alek said.

“The captain is an idiot,” she repeated bitterly. “He refuses to complete our mission. He won’t even try! If one can free-balloon to France, surely the Ottoman Empire is possible. It’s simply a question of catching the right wind.” She waved the map case. “The air currents of the Mediterranean are hardly a mystery!”

“Might be a bit tricky, ma’am,” Dylan said, and cleared his throat. “And technically our destination is still a military secret.”

Dr. Barlow glared at the eggs. “An utterly meaningless one, at this point.”

Alek frowned, wondering why the Leviathan was headed to the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans were devoutly anti-Darwinist, thanks to their Muslim faith. They’d been enemies with Russia for centuries, and the sultan and the kaiser were old friends. Volger always said that sooner or later the Ottomans would join forces with Germany and Austria-Hungary.

“That’s neutral territory, isn’t it?” he said carefully.

“For the moment.” Dr. Barlow sighed. “Of course that may change soon, which is why this delay is a disaster. Years of work, wasted.”

Alek listened to her fume, puzzling over this new development. The Ottoman Empire was the perfect place to disappear. It was a vast and impoverished realm, where a few gold coins could go a long way. There were German agents in abundance there, but at least he wouldn’t be taken prisoner the moment he arrived.

“If you don’t mind telling me, Dr. Barlow, was your mission one of peace or war?”

She held his gaze a moment. “I can’t babble all our secrets to you, Alek. But it should be obvious that I am a scientist, not a soldier.”

“And a diplomat?”

Dr. Barlow smiled. “We all do our duty.”

Alek glanced at the box again. What the eggs could have to do with diplomacy was beyond him. But what mattered was that Dr. Barlow would risk anything to get them to the Ottoman Empire… .

Which gave Alek a bold idea.

“What if I could give you engines, Dr. Barlow?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“The Stormwalker has two powerful engines,” he said. “Both in good working order.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Dr. Barlow turned to Dylan. “Is such a thing possible, Mr. Sharp?”

The boy looked dubious. “I’m sure they’ve got enough power, ma’am. But they’re barking heavy! And that Clanker machinery is a fiddle. Making it work could take ages, and we’re a bit pressed for time.”

Alek shook his head. “Your crew wouldn’t have to do much. Klopp is the best master of mechaniks in Austria, handpicked by my father. He and Hoffman kept that Stormwalker running for five weeks on a handful of parts. I would imagine they can get a pair of propellers spinning.”