Goliath

“We’ll keep some secrets, for a while. And you may need your disguise until the world catches up with you.” Alek took a slow breath. “But I have no use for this.”

And with those words Prince Aleksandar of Hohenberg flung the scroll case hard to starboard, and it went spinning out across the Manhattan skyline, the shiny leather glittering in the sunlight. The ocean breeze caught it and carried it astern, but the whirling case still cleared the broadest part of the airbeast’s body by some distance, and from the bowhead Deryn could plainly see where it struck the water with a tiny, perfect splash.

“Meteoric!” Bovril said a bit madly.

“Aye, beastie.” The world had suddenly gone sharp and crackly, as if lightning were kindling the sky over Manhattan. But Deryn couldn’t lift her gaze from the dark river. “That letter was your whole future, you daft prince.”

“It was my past. I lost that world the night my parents died.” He drew close again. “But I found you, Deryn. Maybe I wasn’t meant to end the war, but I was meant to find you. I know that. You’ve saved me from not having any reason to keep going.”

“We save each other,” Deryn whispered. “That’s how it works.”

With a quick glance at the distant group of riggers, she kissed Alek again. This one was longer, better, their hands entwining at their sides, and the steady headwind made it feel as if the ship were underway, going somewhere new and wonderful with only the three of them aboard.

That thought made Deryn pull away. “But what in blazes are you going to do, Alek?”

“I expect I’ll have to get a proper job.” He sighed, staring down at the river. “My gold’s run out, and it’s not likely they’ll let me join the crew.”

“Emperors are vain and useless things,” Bovril said.

Alek gave the beast a hard stare, but Deryn felt another smile on her face.

“Not to worry,” she said. “I was thinking of leaving myself.”

“What… you, leave the Leviathan? But that’s absurd.”

“Not quite. It turns out the lady boffin has just the job for me. For both of us, I’d think.”

^{“AN END AND A KISS.”}

FORTY-FOUR

In a surprise announcement today, His Serene Highness Aleksandar of Hohenberg, putative heir to the empire of Austria-Hungary, renounced his claim to all the lands and titles of his father’s line, including the imperial throne itself. This extraordinary news has shaken his war-ravaged country, many of whose embattled citizens have quietly embraced the fugitive prince as a symbol of peace.

It is unclear whether Prince Aleksandar would have taken the throne in any case. His claim is based on a papal bull that has not been verified by the Vatican, and which is contested by the current emperor, Franz Joseph. Indeed, as Russian victories mount on the eastern front, it is unclear whether the Austro-Hungarian Empire will exist at all once the Great War is over.

In a declaration of lesser importance, Aleksandar also renounced his ties to the Tesla Foundation, which is raising money to repair the late inventor’s facility in Shoreham, New York. The prince’s relationship with the organization had been under strain since the announcement that it was he who shut down the weapon after Nikola Tesla’s death, fearing for the safety of nearby aircraft and the city of Berlin. According to his spokesman, Wildcount Ernst Volger, Aleksandar has taken a position with the Zoological Society of London, a scientific organization of royal patronage, best known for its upkeep of the London Zoo.

Rumors are flying as to why an heir to one of the great houses of Europe would trade his throne, lands, and titles for the post of zookeeper. But reached by this reporter while on his way to England via His Majesty’s Airship Leviathan, Aleksandar had only this for comment: “Bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria, nube.”

The phrase is the Latin motto of the Hapsburgs and refers to the house’s tradition of gaining influence by alliance rather than conflict. It translates, “Let others wage war. You, lucky Austria, shall marry.” What it might mean in this context is unclear, though it suggests to this reporter that the young prince has found the comfort of new and powerful allies.

Eddie Malone

New York World

December 20, 1914

AFTERWORD

Goliath is a novel of alternate history, so most of its characters, creatures, and machines are my own inventions. But the historical locations and events are modeled closely on the realities of the First World War, and some of the characters are real people. Here’s a quick review of what’s true and what’s fictional in the novel.

At roughly 7:14 a.m. on June 30, 1908, a huge fireball exploded in the wilds of Siberia. Hundreds of kilometers away, people were knocked from their feet and windows were shattered by the blast. Due to its remote location, the Tunguska event wasn’t studied by scientists for many years, and only recently has it been determined that a meteorite impact caused the destruction. (Or maybe it was a comet fragment. We’re not that certain.) Many hypotheses about the cause were proposed in the intervening decades—from aliens to black holes to antimatter, and even experiments performed by the great inventor Nikola Tesla.

Tesla was world famous in 1914. A Serb immigrant living in New York City, he was working on countless inventions, including a “death ray” that he hoped might make war impossible. His major project since 1901 had been Wardenclyffe Tower, a huge electrical device on Long Island, with which he hoped to broadcast free electrical power to the entire world (and much more). By 1914, however, Tesla’s finances were unraveling, and he began to make wilder and wilder claims about what he could accomplish. The tower was never completed, and in 1915 the land it stood on was deeded to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in lieu of money owed. (That’s right, a mad scientist’s lair was handed over to pay a hotel bill.) The tower was destroyed in 1917 by the U.S. government, who feared that Germans might use it as a transmitter or navigation landmark.

William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer were rival newspaper moguls for many decades. Both were known for their so-called yellow journalism, stories that valued sensationalism over fact. As in Goliath, Hearst was steadfastly against U.S. entry into the First World War. He also loved motion pictures, and created the Perils of Pauline serial, the first of which is described herein, and which featured the original “cliff-hanger.” (Let’s just say I owe the guy.)

Adela Rogers St. Johns was a “girl reporter” for Hearst newspapers and other papers from age nineteen well into her sixties. She is twenty years old in Goliath, and though she was married by then, I have somewhat capriciously changed history to keep her single. The story of her marriage license being torn in half is true, however. Her autobiography The Honeycomb (1969) is still widely available and is rather awesome.

Francisco “Pancho” Villa was a major figure in the Mexican Revolution of 1910–20. Villa really did have a Hollywood contract to film his battles, and German agents really did supply various revolutionary factions in hopes of gaining influence in Mexico. When the United States finally entered World War I in 1917, it was partly due to the discovery of the Zimmerman Telegram, an offer from the German Empire to assist Mexico if it attacked the United