Mikey giggled. “I bet those Brits pissed theirselfs. Way to go, Mr. Mallory.”
“It 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.”
“Are you 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 bumpers 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 ass in her tail. Get some idea how much we need to rebalance things.”
“My ass 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 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 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 ship. 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 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 pass 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. Billingsly’s suspicion of Jenks was confirmed. The commodore 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.
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 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 “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 attitude 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 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, of course, but the ship 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 ship’s company grew excited again as the bizarre machine roared by and took to the air once more. None of 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 kinship 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 ship’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 -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 participate 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.
