Part 11 (2/2)

Pus.h.i.+ng the stick forward, he pretended he had a gunsight in front of him and began a shallow dive toward the Imperial frigate. He knew Adar would get hot, and so would the captain when he found out, but what were they going to do? Ground him? The plane started gaining speed. One hundred, a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty . . . The stick got even tighter, but he waggled his wings just a little and knew he had plenty of control. Closer they sped, and he could see figures running on the deck. He knew just seeing the airplane was probably giving them fits, but there'd been no way to fly it without them knowing, so no one had actually ordered him not not to buzz the s.h.i.+p. Besides, they still had stuff to test. A hundred and thirty at this dive angle seemed about max, and Ben was really wis.h.i.+ng for trim tabs now, but as the mast tops approached, he was pleased to note that when he pulled back on the stick, the strange little plane almost leaped back up into the sky. to buzz the s.h.i.+p. Besides, they still had stuff to test. A hundred and thirty at this dive angle seemed about max, and Ben was really wis.h.i.+ng for trim tabs now, but as the mast tops approached, he was pleased to note that when he pulled back on the stick, the strange little plane almost leaped back up into the sky.

Maybe just a little impulsively, he displayed a hopefully universal gesture and yanked the stick to the right, forcing the plane into a slightly tighter climbing barrel roll than he'd perhaps intended.

”Seat belts!” he shouted, as he went inverted. ”Number seven!”

There was no danger he and Tikker would fall out-they were sucked into into their seats-but they were slammed against the left side of their respective c.o.c.kpits. The tight roll and sharp climb forced Ben's head back-where there was no rest-and he found himself staring right at the blurred propeller just inches away. their seats-but they were slammed against the left side of their respective c.o.c.kpits. The tight roll and sharp climb forced Ben's head back-where there was no rest-and he found himself staring right at the blurred propeller just inches away.

”s.h.i.+t!”

Instinctively, Ben pushed the stick forward-maybe a little too much. The aft CG practically pitched the nose out from under them, causing a momentary-but terrifying-negative-G condition. This immediately levitated the fuel in the carburetor and closed the float, starving the engine-not to mention leaving Tikker to clutch the diagonal stringers in the fuselage for dear life. Recognizing that improvement number seven was of extreme extreme importance, Ben somehow managed to ease back on the stick, finish the roll, and right the craft before he and Tikker were thrown from the plane. importance, Ben somehow managed to ease back on the stick, finish the roll, and right the craft before he and Tikker were thrown from the plane.

Airspeed had kept the prop windmilling behind him, and within seconds, as the fuel in the carburetor remembered where to go, the engine coughed and sputtered back to life. Holding the stick in a vise-like grip, Ben looked around. Everything was back to normal and the Nancy seemed to have survived the stupid, stupid, stupid stupid, stupid, stupid gyrations with no apparent damage. He sighed, loosening his grip a little, and took a deep, shaky breath. He almost gagged. gyrations with no apparent damage. He sighed, loosening his grip a little, and took a deep, shaky breath. He almost gagged. Gas! Gas! There was gas everywhere! He looked at Tikker and saw that the 'Cat was soaked. He was shouting something and pointing up. Ben spun to stare at the little mirror and saw the fuel gauge stick was gone. Worse, so was the gas cap it floated in. There was gas everywhere! He looked at Tikker and saw that the 'Cat was soaked. He was shouting something and pointing up. Ben spun to stare at the little mirror and saw the fuel gauge stick was gone. Worse, so was the gas cap it floated in. What the h.e.l.l?! What the h.e.l.l?! The pressure of the gas or the air in the tank slapping against it must have blown the cap off, he deduced. Judging by the amount of fuel all over everything, they must have dumped a lot-since most of it wouldn't have landed on them! The pressure of the gas or the air in the tank slapping against it must have blown the cap off, he deduced. Judging by the amount of fuel all over everything, they must have dumped a lot-since most of it wouldn't have landed on them!

He looked down. They were over the city now, and he banked back toward the bay. I wonder how much fuel we have left? I wonder how much fuel we have left? The engine coughed, gurgled, then roared back to life. The engine coughed, gurgled, then roared back to life. s.h.i.+t! Not much! s.h.i.+t! Not much!

He turned back to Tikker and made a winding motion over his head. Get the floats down! Get the floats down! Tikker was already spinning the crank. With a pounding heart, Ben Mallory concluded he was liable to have to attempt yet another stunt he'd absolutely Tikker was already spinning the crank. With a pounding heart, Ben Mallory concluded he was liable to have to attempt yet another stunt he'd absolutely never never intended for this very first flight: a dead-stick landing on Baalkpan Bay. intended for this very first flight: a dead-stick landing on Baalkpan Bay.

Pointing the nose down to build some airspeed, he found he had to keep even more back pressure on the stick to keep the s.h.i.+p level as the engine burped and died completely. The sudden lack of any sound but the wind whoos.h.i.+ng through the support struts and control cables was chilling.

”Slow down!” he heard Tikker shriek for the first time.

”Can't!” he shouted back. ”Rule number one-when you start training those idiots who volunteered for this-airspeed is life! In our case, we need enough speed to land the d.a.m.n thing on the water! If we're too slow when we flare out, we'll stall and pancake in. Liable to break something!”

”I thought rule number one was 'no stupid stunts that kill engine! '”

”I . . .” Ben fumed, and concentrated on keeping a steady, gliding descent. Ahead, the bay opened before them again. d.a.m.n, they were getting low! 'Cats were scurrying around on the waterfront, dodging this way and that, apparently expecting them to drop right on top of them. He eased back just a bit on the stick-and then held it tight against its tendency to come too far back. Definitely going to have to change the CG Definitely going to have to change the CG, he decided. They were over the water now, and he looked for a clear spot to set down. There wasn't much room. Many of the s.h.i.+ps and fis.h.i.+ng boats had gathered in this area to stay out of his way.

”A little speed help now?” Tikker demanded.

”h.e.l.l, yes. What . . . ?” Tikker hosed the last of the fuel in the bug sprayer at the carburetor. With a ”pop!” and an explosive backfire, the engine roared to life and gave him just enough acceleration to level off and make a powered touchdown on the choppy water. He risked a quick glance aft when he heard a shrill cry, and saw Tikker pitch the flaming bug sprayer over the side like an arcing meteor. The backfire must have lit the d.a.m.n thing!

Whump! The plane practically gouged into the sea, but it had just enough remaining speed and lift to bounce up and skip across a few little waves before settling down for good. The engine gasped, hacked, and the prop spun raggedly to a stop, leaving them bobbing peacefully on the light swells about three hundred yards from sh.o.r.e. Ben finally took a long, deep breath and forcefully released the stick. Tikker said nothing and the two of them merely sat floating on the bay, while the launch approached from seaward. The plane practically gouged into the sea, but it had just enough remaining speed and lift to bounce up and skip across a few little waves before settling down for good. The engine gasped, hacked, and the prop spun raggedly to a stop, leaving them bobbing peacefully on the light swells about three hundred yards from sh.o.r.e. Ben finally took a long, deep breath and forcefully released the stick. Tikker said nothing and the two of them merely sat floating on the bay, while the launch approached from seaward.

”Holy s.h.i.+t!” Brister cried when he was close enough to hear. ”What the h.e.l.l were you doing? I thought this was supposed to be a test flight!”

Mikey giggled. ”I bet those Brits p.i.s.sed theirselfs. Way to go, Mr. Mallory.”

”It was was a test flight,” Mallory growled. ”And it isn't over yet. Tikker, get out and help Mikey with that gas can. I'm taking her up again.” a test flight,” Mallory growled. ”And it isn't over yet. Tikker, get out and help Mikey with that gas can. I'm taking her up again.”

”Are you nuts nuts?” demanded Brister, incredulous.

”Maybe, but I've got to figure out a few more things. See if you can find something to plug the fuel tank with. A hunk of that cork stuff you use for b.u.mpers on the boat ought to do.” Brister shook his head, but motioned for the man and 'Cat to comply. Shortly, the fuel tank was topped off again and Mikey had whittled a stopper for it. Tikker started to get back in the plane.

”No, you stay here,” Ben ordered.

”You kidding?”

”Nope. I want to try her out without your fat a.s.s in her tail. Get some idea how much we need to rebalance things.”

”My a.s.s not fat,” Tikker replied. ”Maybe my head. How you survive without me to save you?”

”See if you can find the bug sprayer. With it empty, maybe it floated.” He flipped the switch and started to stand and prop the engine again. ”Next one's going to be a pusher,” he mumbled, then caught himself. ”Hey, give me a piece of that rope while you're at it,” he shouted across to the boat. ”I need a seat belt!”

Commander Walter Billingsly had been utterly terrified and that just wouldn't do. His one response to fear had always been a killing rage, a need for whomever or whatever caused his fear to suffer the consequences. His terror now past, his rage had lost its heat. It still remained, however, and it would be vented, but it was a cold thing now, an icy ache inside him. By harnessing it and molding it from what it had been into what it was, he had made it a tool, a thing he could use. A thing that would help him when the time came, instead of controlling him.

When the bizarre contraption was towed past Ajax Ajax and into the open water of the bay, he'd watched with acute interest through his telescope. He'd known about the strange contrivances the Americans and their Ape lackeys were building, but his spies hadn't been quite sure what to make of the things. They reported that they were expected to fly, but neither they nor Billingsly put much credence in that. He'd supposed that was just a fanciful cover story meant as disinformation. Then he and into the open water of the bay, he'd watched with acute interest through his telescope. He'd known about the strange contrivances the Americans and their Ape lackeys were building, but his spies hadn't been quite sure what to make of the things. They reported that they were expected to fly, but neither they nor Billingsly put much credence in that. He'd supposed that was just a fanciful cover story meant as disinformation. Then he saw saw it fly. Amazing! How had these barbarians managed to accomplish something that all the greatest scientists in the Empire had proven was impossible? it fly. Amazing! How had these barbarians managed to accomplish something that all the greatest scientists in the Empire had proven was impossible?

He watched while the craft nosed higher and higher into the air and then turned back in his direction. He was excited at first that he'd get a better look at the thing. But then it dove toward him! It grew bigger and bigger in its downward swoop until he was sure it would collide with the s.h.i.+p. In terror, he'd scampered behind one of the great guns for protection, praying for the first time in years. Then, at seemingly the last second, it pulled away with a mighty roar and literally spun on its axis! For a moment during the shocking maneuver, it was silent. In light of what he saw later, he shuddered to think what might happen if such a machine came at them noiselessly in the dark.

He'd watched it zoom over the city, leaning back and forth, then making another silent, simulated attack upon the waterfront! After it was clear, he realized what the true purpose of the machine had to be: a flaming cylinder fell from it and dropped into the water! The machine was a weapon! Of course it was a weapon! It could just as easily have dropped the flaming bomb on Ajax Ajax as it swooped overhead! The very thought of such an insidious, unsportsmanlike-and utterly effective-device was what truly ignited his terror, beyond the fear he'd felt when he'd thought it was going to ram them. That it could have destroyed them in a single pa.s.s and hadn't done so was a clear indication of how the Apes and their Americans considered his presence there. They were not awed by Imperial power as he'd expected them to be. They were contemptuous of it. as it swooped overhead! The very thought of such an insidious, unsportsmanlike-and utterly effective-device was what truly ignited his terror, beyond the fear he'd felt when he'd thought it was going to ram them. That it could have destroyed them in a single pa.s.s and hadn't done so was a clear indication of how the Apes and their Americans considered his presence there. They were not awed by Imperial power as he'd expected them to be. They were contemptuous of it.

They'd clearly intended to frighten him and they had. More significantly, they'd waited until Jenks was a week or more away, which meant they were not trying to frighten him him. Billingsly's suspicion of Jenks was confirmed. The commodore had had to have been shown the flying machine during his ”tour,” and he would have asked about it. Jenks was a fair scientist, to a degree, in his own right. Even if he'd doubted the thing would actually fly, he'd have known that his hosts thought it would. They couldn't have misled him about that. That left only a single possibility: Jenks knew about the flying machine and had said nothing about it. to have been shown the flying machine during his ”tour,” and he would have asked about it. Jenks was a fair scientist, to a degree, in his own right. Even if he'd doubted the thing would actually fly, he'd have known that his hosts thought it would. They couldn't have misled him about that. That left only a single possibility: Jenks knew about the flying machine and had said nothing about it.

Billingsly's expression never changed, but inwardly, he roiled. Jenks might command the squadron-such as it remained-and be in charge of all things nautical, and even tactically military. But Billingsly was the supreme representative of the Court of Proprietors, and in matters of intelligence, foreign policy, and even long-term strategy, he was in charge. Jenks had deliberately withheld critical information that profoundly affected all those things. He could claim he hadn't really believed the machine would fly, and it might even be true, but Billingsly didn't believe it. Such a defense might (probably would) get Jenks off at an inquiry since, as a scientist, a respected explorer and naval officer, he couldn't be expected to give credence to claims regarding the feasibility of powered flight.

Walter Billingsly knew better. He believed he understood Jenks more perfectly than perhaps the man knew himself. Jenks would have looked at the contrivance closely. If it was possible possible it might fly-as Walter now knew it irrefutably could-he would have known. And yet he hadn't mentioned it. Did that make him a traitor? Yes. it might fly-as Walter now knew it irrefutably could-he would have known. And yet he hadn't mentioned it. Did that make him a traitor? Yes.

Billingsly kept many secrets from the commodore, the real nature of his his ”rescue” mission, for one, but Jenks was not supposed to keep any from him. That alone was enough for a charge, if not a conviction. But Walter had been suspicious of many of Jenks's activities of late. This interminable delay, for example, waiting for the Americans to release the girl, was most unseemly. Then, instead of his getting steadily angrier, as Billingsly had, Jenks's att.i.tude toward their ”hosts” had appeared to actually thaw somewhat. The most egregious was the tour Jenks had received. The Americans had openly shown Jenks what they'd kept guarded for long months from Billingsly and his spies. Walter suddenly wondered darkly what ”rescue” mission, for one, but Jenks was not supposed to keep any from him. That alone was enough for a charge, if not a conviction. But Walter had been suspicious of many of Jenks's activities of late. This interminable delay, for example, waiting for the Americans to release the girl, was most unseemly. Then, instead of his getting steadily angrier, as Billingsly had, Jenks's att.i.tude toward their ”hosts” had appeared to actually thaw somewhat. The most egregious was the tour Jenks had received. The Americans had openly shown Jenks what they'd kept guarded for long months from Billingsly and his spies. Walter suddenly wondered darkly what other other surprises Jenks might have seen and not told him about! surprises Jenks might have seen and not told him about!

Now Jenks was gone some hundreds of miles away, an ”observer” along to witness a foreign military adventure! Was he an observer? Why did the Americans want him along in the first place? In Billingsly's suspicious mind, no one would show Jenks the things the Americans had without wanting something in return. What did Jenks have? Achilles Achilles, of course, but the s.h.i.+p and her armaments were not substantially greater than anything the Americans were capable of. What then? Only information. The only thing Jenks had that the Americans could really use was information, and he possessed quite a lot of that.

All around Billingsly, the s.h.i.+p's company grew excited again as the bizarre machine roared by and took to the air once more. None of them them were terrified, nor had they really been even when the machine came at them. Most shouted and good-naturedly returned the clear gesture the flying man had made. They were excited because a flying machine was a wonder, and they possibly even felt a strange kins.h.i.+p with anyone foolhardy enough to ride one. They were men as used to terrifying adventure as they were to the unending boredom of the last months. But they didn't see things the way he did. They never took the long view of anything. Whatever occurred after their next meal was the distant future. Walter Billingsly knew it was all up to him now, him and the operatives infiltrated into the s.h.i.+p's company. The contingency plan he'd been formulating was coming together nicely, and with some of the recent information he'd obtained, it was looking more practical as well. He needed just a few more pieces of the puzzle to fall into place and he'd be ready to proceed. were terrified, nor had they really been even when the machine came at them. Most shouted and good-naturedly returned the clear gesture the flying man had made. They were excited because a flying machine was a wonder, and they possibly even felt a strange kins.h.i.+p with anyone foolhardy enough to ride one. They were men as used to terrifying adventure as they were to the unending boredom of the last months. But they didn't see things the way he did. They never took the long view of anything. Whatever occurred after their next meal was the distant future. Walter Billingsly knew it was all up to him now, him and the operatives infiltrated into the s.h.i.+p's company. The contingency plan he'd been formulating was coming together nicely, and with some of the recent information he'd obtained, it was looking more practical as well. He needed just a few more pieces of the puzzle to fall into place and he'd be ready to proceed.

He strolled to the rail and watched the flying machine make lazy turns over the bay. His personal mission was more critical now than ever before, but even that had paled somewhat in comparison to the intelligence he'd gathered about these strange folk. He needed to get that intelligence home as soon as he possibly could. Things back there were already in motion and he had no idea how this might influence those long-secret plans. His primary mission was important to their success, but the threat posed by these folk-these other enemies enemies-desperately required evaluation by his superiors.

He would no longer worry about Jenks. Surely he was a traitor? Besides, whether he was or wasn't was immaterial in the end. His allegiance was no secret and his presence might have been . . . problematic to the success of Billingsly's primary mission, in any event. Walter had often pondered how best to deal with him when the time came. Aside from the information he might give his American friends, it was probably just as well that he'd gone with them. Realistically, he'd expected a confrontation, a refusal to partic.i.p.ate at least. He'd have been astonished if Jenks would have agreed to active cooperation and support. This way, it no longer mattered how Jenks would react. He was certainly in no position to interfere.

CHAPTER 11.

Unconscious of any irony, newly minted Lieutenant Irvin Laumer stepped forward and extended his hand to Colonel Tamatsu s.h.i.+nya. Without hesitation, the j.a.panese former naval officer took it and shook it briskly. The two had become friends, of a sort, during the long voyage, and there had existed certain bond between them. Both were men driven to succeed and prove themselves, although Irvin didn't know what s.h.i.+nya needed to prove. He was a loyal officer in Captain Reddy's cadre of companions. (Irvin was well-read and often compared Reddy's relations.h.i.+p with his officers and men to that of Alexander.) He admitted to himself that there might be just a touch of hero wors.h.i.+p on his part that made the comparison more apt.

There was no doubt that there were two distinct groups within the Alliance: those who felt comfortable around Captain Reddy and didn't hesitate to express their views to him, and those who were almost afraid to be around the ”Great Man.” The former category was almost exclusively comprised of those who'd been with him from the start, regardless of race. Irvin still felt like he belonged in the second group. He'd had a tough ordeal-all the S-19s-had, but it wasn't a patch to what Captain Reddy, Walker Walker, Mahan Mahan, and all their crews and allies had been through. Laumer hadn't even been at Baalkpan during the desperate fight. s.h.i.+nya had. He'd been there from the start like all the others, and he'd certainly earned the companion role, yet he didn't seem to realize it. If he did, he still seemed driven to continue earning it.

Maybe it was because he was a j.a.p. To this day, not all the Americans truly liked him. They universally respected him, but that wasn't the same. He'd proven he'd stand even against his own people in this war, if it came down to it, but during one of their talks, he'd admitted to Irvin that it still hurt him, even now. He had no compa.s.sion for the Grik, but maybe he needed to keep proving to himself that he actually belonged among his new friends.

”I'll miss you, sir, and our talks,” Laumer said.

”As will I,” s.h.i.+nya replied. ”I find myself speaking 'Cat so much, it is a pleasure to converse in a . . . human tongue.”

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