Behemoth

Finally Deryn cleared her throat and returned the German’s salute.

“As ranking officer present, I extend the thanks of the British Air Service. For all your, um, hospitality.”

Admiral Souchon looked coolly at her. “I don’t believe we are acquainted, sir.”

“Midshipman Dylan Sharp, at your service.”

“A midshipman. I see.” He turned back to Dr. Barlow and offered his hand. “Forgive me, madam, for the military formalities. I almost forgot you were a civilian. It is a pleasure to meet you. And how lucky that, thanks to my recent appointment, we do not meet as enemies.”

The lady boffin extended her hand and let the admiral kiss it.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” She slowly gathered herself, turning back to the sultan. “Two ironclads is indeed a most impressive gift. In fact, I am so moved by this German generosity that I must offer another gift on behalf of the British government.”

“Really?” The sultan leaned forward. “And what would that be?”

“The Leviathan, Lord Sultan.”

The room went silent again, and Deryn blinked. Had the lady boffin gone completely barking mad?

“It is the most famous of the great hydrogen breathers,” Dr. Barlow continued. “As valuable as the Osman and its companion put together, and a creation that your German friends could never match.”

The sultan looked quite pleased, and Deryn noticed that Admiral Souchon’s smile had frozen on his face. She herself was dizzy, unable to believe what the lady boffin was saying.

“Dr. Barlow,” she spoke up. “It is, of course, customary to check with the captain before, um … giving away his ship.”

“Ah, of course.” Dr. Barlow waved her hand. “Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Sharp. We shall require a few days to communicate with the Admiralty, Lord Sultan, before effecting this transfer.”

“That is unfortunate, Dr. Barlow,” Admiral Souchon said, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “The limit for harboring a combatant ship in wartime is twenty-four hours. International law is very strict on this matter.”

“May I remind you, Admiral,” the sultan said mildly, “that your own grace period was extended while negotiations took place?”

The German opened his mouth, then closed it and bowed, low. “Of course, My Lord Sultan. I am at your command.”

Leaning back on his divan, the sultan smiled and folded his hands. Without the automaton mimicking him, Deryn noticed that he moved more fluidly. Or perhaps he was simply enjoying pitting two great powers against each other.

“Then we are all agreed,” he said. “Dr. Barlow, you have four days to get me the Leviathan.”

Thirty minutes later the Stamboul rose into the air again. As it passed over the shimmering strait in a slow turn back toward the airfield, the Kizlar Agha joined Deryn and Dr. Barlow at the railing, his face pale.

“I do not know what to say, madam. My Lord Sultan was not himself today.”

“He seemed firm enough in his convictions,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice still quavering from shock.

“Indeed. But he has not been the same since moving back into the palace. The Germans have changed so much there. Not all of us approve.”

Deryn frowned, wanting to mention what she’d noticed about the automaton. But she couldn’t in front of the sultan’s closest adviser.

The mechanical owl still perched on the Kizlar Agha’s shoulder, but she noticed that the cylinder on its chest was no longer spinning. Perhaps it was some sort of recording machine, and the man had switched it off to keep his words a secret.

“Are you saying that he may change his mind about the kaiser’s gifts?” Dr. Barlow asked carefully.

The Kizlar Agha spread his hands. “That, I do not know, madam. But our empire has fought two wars in the last ten years, and a bloody revolution as well. Not all of us want to join this madness in Europe.”

Dr. Barlow nodded. “Pray, then, make yourselves heard.”

“We shall try. Peace be upon you, and upon us all,” he said, then bowed and returned to the prow of the airship.

“How interesting,” the lady boffin said as he walked away. “Perhaps there is still hope for this country.”

“What did he mean exactly?” Deryn asked.

“Perhaps he plans to give his emperor good advice.” She shrugged. “Or perhaps something more. Sultans have been replaced before.”

Deryn turned back to the railing, and suddenly there they were below—the Goeben and the Breslau harbored in the Golden Horn.

“The admiral wasn’t lying,” she said, seeing crimson Ottoman flags fluttering from the ironclads’ mainmasts. “They must have been hiding up in the Black Sea yesterday.”

“I should have known,” Dr. Barlow said. “Those ships were trapped, worthless to the Germans. So why not offer them as bribes?”

“Aye, and speaking of bribes …” Deryn swallowed, almost afraid to ask. “What was that about giving the Leviathan away? You haven’t gone barking mad, have you?”

Dr. Barlow gave her a sidelong glance. “Don’t be tiresome, Mr. Sharp. That was merely a ploy to extend our time here. Which of course you knew, as you played your part to perfection. Another four days may prove quite useful.”

Deryn frowned. Played her part? She’d only said the first thing that had come into her head. “But if we’re not going to give the Ottomans the ship, what’s the point of staying?”

“Really, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said, the steel returning to her voice. “Do you suppose I would journey across Europe without an alternate plan?”

“And this is your plan, ma’am? Making false promises to the sultan to make him even angrier?”

“Hardly.” The lady boffin sighed. “I doubt the sultan’s anger will make much difference, one way or the other. The Ottoman Empire is already in the Germans’ hands.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Deryn said. “And speaking of hands, I’m not sure that the sultan really meant to crush that egg.”

Dr. Barlow turned a cold gaze on Deryn. “Are you saying that my life’s work was destroyed by accident?”

“Not by accident, ma’am. But the sultan didn’t make a fist. He was just pointing at the egg, and then the automaton went and squashed your poor beastie, all on its own!”

Dr. Barlow was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Of course. I’m an idiot! That throne room was built by German engineers, so they were in control, not the sultan. They forced his hand, so to speak.”

“Aye.” Deryn stared back at the water. The Stamboul had completed its turn, and the Goeben was receding into the distance. But she could still see the forbidding shape of the Tesla cannon, its struts covered with fluttering seabirds. “Makes you wonder how they’ll force the sultan’s hand next, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, Mr. Sharp.”

Deryn looked at the water stretching into the distance. The Royal Navy’s Mediterranean fleet was stationed just south of the strait, still waiting for the Goeben and Breslau to emerge. And in the opposite direction, the Russian navy sat in its Black Sea ports, not yet aware that their old enemy the sultan had two new ironclads.

All it would take was a quick sortie by Admiral Souchon in either direction, and the Ottomans would be dragged into war.