The Romanov Rescue
- Автор: Кратман Том, Watson Justin
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Baen
- ISBN: 978-1-9821-2570-7
- Жанр: Альтернативная история
Электронная книга - «The Romanov Rescue». Краткое содержание книги:
As WWI comes to a close a German general, an escaped prisoner of war, and the crew of an airship converge to effect THE ROMANOV RESCUE. Can there be a world without communism?
Mankind’s history is bound up in the fabric of fate, a strong cloth, tough and closely woven.
It is the beginning of 1918, the last year of the greatest war in human history, to date. All the belligerents stagger on their feet. Starvation is an ever present reality, while disease waits in the wings. In Russia, no longer a belligerent but, instead, rapidly descending into civil war and chaos, a lone family—Father, Mother, four beautiful young girls, and a brave but sickly boy—await their own fate, shivering and hungry in the dark, hoping and praying for salvation.
Their relatives in England have turned their backs. The guards set over them do little but torment them. They look Heavenward, but God doesn’t answer. They know they’re a threat to the new regime, a threat that will, in time, be eliminated.
But even the strongest fabric has flaws. An escaped prisoner of war, caught, injured, and punished, but still highly capable, might be one. An airship, returned and at loose ends after a failed mission to Africa might be another. A German general, taking a wrong turn on his nightly walk and suddenly coming face to face with the reality of the monster rising in the east, would be a third.
Follow, then, as the general gives the orders, the prisoner of war raises the men from among his fellows, and the airship launches itself forward, to contest fate, to tear the fabric of time, and to effect The Romanov Rescue.
About the Carrera series:
“Very well, Mueller,” the captain said. “Thank you for bringing them to me. That will be all.”
“Yes, sir,” Wilhelm said, dropping the salute. He turned on his heel and walked out, as Weber and the Russians filed in. He let them all pass, and then closed the captain’s office door behind him. Then he waited.
He wasn’t eavesdropping. He was just… there if the captain needed him. Just in case.
“Captain Bockholt, I am Major Brinkmann, and I bring you Major General Hoffmann’s compliments,” Brinkmann said as the young German airman left the room. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded packet of papers which he held out to Ludwig.
“Thank you,” Ludwig said, taking the papers with a nod. “May I offer you some refreshment?” He waved a hand at the sideboard, which held a small but respectable collection of the local fruit brandy known as Rakia.
“We can help ourselves, Captain,” the Russian lieutenant colonel said in unaccented German. “This will be easiest if you take the time to read the missive that the major’s just given you first.”
“I see,” Ludwig said, keeping the curiosity out of his voice. “In that case, please be my guests. The blue bottle is particularly good. Glasses are in the cabinet. I shall be with you in one moment.”
The Russian officer nodded and took one of the two chairs that faced Ludwig’s desk while Weber went to the sideboard and began to pour. Ludwig returned to his seat and opened the packet, his pulse accelerating as his eyes slid over the orders contained within. It didn’t take long, as General Hoffmann was a succinct man. Ludwig read over the entire message twice before he looked up at his guest, now smiling at him over a glass of Rakia.
“Lieutenant Colonel Kostyshakov, I presume,” he said.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Bockholt. Your reputation precedes you.”
“I wish I could say the same, sir.”
Kostyshakov smiled, and Ludwig noted that it didn’t, quite, reach his eyes.
“General Hoffmann will have told you the purpose of my visit here, and the object of my—now our—mission.”
“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said. “It is an audacious concept…” he paused, and studied the face of the Russian officer.
“And?” Kostyshakov urged him to go on.
“… And one of which, if it is not too bold of me to say, I heartily approve. Bolshevism is a cancer.” Ludwig kept his voice quiet, but even so, he felt his emotions stir at the prospect.
“I am glad you agree, Captain. As to the audacity of the plan… well. The Afrika-Schiff rather specializes in audacity, do you not?”
Ludwig felt himself smile.
“It seems we do.”
“Well, then.” Kostyshakov returned his smile and lifted his glass of Rakia. At some point whilst he’d been reading, someone had set another full glass down on Ludwig’s desk. He lifted this in reply and the two men drank, as if in a silent toast to the success of their audacious and improbable mission.
“Now,” Ludwig said. “If you’ll forgive me, General Hoffmann’s orders were a little sparse on the details. Perhaps I can give you a tour of my ship, and you can tell me exactly what men and equipment we will be carrying for this endeavor.”
“Yes, of course. But first, Captain, you must forgive me. Do you think that your men all share your disdain for Bolshevism? I ask only because, as I’m sure you can see, our mission is such that a threat from within our ranks could undo us entirely.”
Ludwig fought the urge to bristle and pursed his lips while he thought about it. He turned the glass of Rakia in his hand, watching the light from his office window play through the pale gold liquor.
“I cannot say for certain,” he said slowly. “But I would be very surprised if they did not. My men are elite, sir. They are the crème de la crème of the Imperial Navy. In my experience, men of that much talent, ability and drive do not gravitate towards the philosophies of Bolshevism.”
“I see,” Kostyshakov said.
“But,” Ludwig went on. “We are no strangers to sensitive mission orders. Certainly they will expect to be told nothing until we are airborne… and even then, only what they need to know in order to perform their duties.”
“That would probably be best,” Kostyshakov said. “Well enough.” He tossed back the rest of the Rakia and put the glass down on Ludwig’s desk. “Is now convenient?”
“I am at your service, sir,” Ludwig said. He stood, took his own last drink, and gestured for the Russians to precede him out into the yawning hangar bay.
Wilhelm snapped to attention as the captain’s office door opened. One by one, the visitors filed out, with Captain Bockholt bringing up the rear. He met his crewman’s eyes and a tiny smile played about his lips.
“Ah, Mueller. Just the man I was hoping to see. Find the Obermaschinistenmaat, please, and ask him to join us here. I will be giving Lieutenant Colonel Kostyshakov and Major Brinkmann a tour of the ship, and we will need his expertise… and yours.”
“Aye, sir,” Wilhelm said with a salute. “Obermaschinistenmaat Engelke is still in the cargo bay, sir, overseeing the new rack installation. Shall I lead you to him?”
“Yes, perfect,” the captain said, and turned with a smile to the two other officers. “Wilhelm is one of our best enlisted airmen.”
Wilhelm felt his face flush with pride and his chest puff slightly at the compliment from his commanding officer. He said nothing, however, merely turned and began walking toward the cargo bay entrance where he’d last seen his immediate supervisor.
“Hundreds, you say.” Daniil thought on that a bit then asked, “How many men can you lift?”
“Depends on the weight per man. Total lift, fuel, equipment, men other than the crew, and water ballast, is a little over twenty-four tons. It’s not all useable, plan on about twenty-one tons. We can trim the water ballast some, yes, but not all of it. And how much we can trim depends a lot on where we’re going; the thing leaks lifting gas, hydrogen, like a sieve, but it leaks more when the gas expands in warm weather. Still, we need a good deal just to keep an even keel.”
“I knew she was big,” he heard the Russian lieutenant colonel say softly in German behind him as they walked. “But it is different seeing her up close. What is her range?”
“For a long distance flight? She traversed almost seven thousand kilometers nonstop during the Africa mission.”
Kostyshakov was impressed. “Our mission will be shorter, but we will likely need multiple lifts.”
“So I surmised. General Hoffmann’s orders said four companies of men?”
“Five, as it turns out, but smaller companies. Plus equipment, ammo and supplies for maybe two weeks… and the animals. Can you take animals on board?”
“Horses?”
“And mules.”
“I am certain the captain will find a way,” Major Brinkmann said smoothly.
“We can,” Bockholt said, drawing his words out, as if he were considering them as he spoke. “But securing them during flight will require some thought. As well as on- and off-load procedures.”
The group fell silent then, as they’d reached the loading ramp for the ship’s cargo bay. The ramp was down, and the shadowed cavern of the bay yawned ahead of them. Had they been anywhere other than inside one of the largest aircraft hangars in the world, the bay would have seemed truly gargantuan. But as it was, tucked under the belly of the L59’s magnificent bulk, it appeared only moderately large.