Authors: William R. Forstchen
“It wouldn’t last ten minutes in a fight with their ships of the line.”
Andrew and several others of the group shifted uncomfortably.
“Why?”
“Their largest ship had breechloading guns that I estimated were ten inches, perhaps even twelve. I spotted six turrets on several of them, two forward, two aft, and two amidships.”
“The amidships guns, how do they bear?” she asked.
“They’re positioned so that they can fire directly forward or aft. Therefore, it would have four guns for a bow or stern chase, and five guns for a broadside. I think I spotted a number of secondary guns of lighter caliber as well.
“In the night fight, I think I saw a couple of ships that had three guns forward and one or two aft. It looked like several different designs, but all of them were heavy, twelve thousand tons, maybe as high as eighteen or twenty.”
“Did you see these guns fire?” Petronius asked.
“Only in a night action. The one we spotted.”
“We?” Petronius asked. “Who was your spotter?”
Richard hesitated for the briefest instant, noticing that the president was watching him carefully.
“It was Lieutenant Sean O’Donald, sir.”
“And what happened to him in this action of yours?”
“He didn’t come back,” Richard said slowly, hoping that Petronius would interpret his words in the way he wanted. The admiral simply nodded.
“Range on these guns?”
“That’s the interesting thing,” Richard replied. “Like our fourteen incher, I believe their guns must have a range of ten thousand yards or more. The question is hitting at that range. It looked as if most of the action was taking place at a mile or less.”
“Could that be because it was a night battle?” Theodor asked.
Richard shook his head.
“No, sir. I heard later that the battle had started in late afternoon. The ship that…” He hesitated, looking at Andrew, who shook his head. “The ship carrying the rival to the throne was hit early in the action, at a range of nearly a league, which all considered to be remarkable luck.”
“That information could be valuable to us,” Varinnia interrupted. “Very valuable, but it will take time.”
“Fire control?” Theodor asked.
“We’ve talked for years about it,” Varinnia replied. “My husband’s notes include talk about a man on the old world, the one named Babbage. When firing at long range, gunnery is a question of numerous variables too complex to solve in the necessary time. We have the theory of using optical triangulation instruments to figure out the range. Calculating from there, though, is the problem. We could have a hundred of our finest engineers and mathematicians on board a ship, give them the estimated range, and by the time they got done calculating gun elevation and powder load, both ships would be back in port and their crews on leave.”
She shook her head, but Richard could sense her excitement as she contemplated the problem.
“If we could find a way to calculate, in advance, the elevation, angle, and load of the gun, fire it, then have a new calculation within thirty seconds for the next firing, factoring in the observed hit of the previous shell, we could defeat anything afloat.”
Varinnia and Theodor launched into a heated discussion for several minutes, which Richard tried to follow. The two argued about shell flight time, relative change of distance and angle, and something called differential engines, until Andrew final interrupted with a polite clearing of his throat.
She looked over at him and smiled. Richard could sense a genuine affection between the two.
“Mister, or I should say, Commander Cromwell, tell us the number of ships in the emperor’s fleet,” Petronius asked, having stood to one side during the technical debate.
“I can’t say for sure. That shifts as alliances between families change. When I flew over the harbor, I counted eight great ships of the line, each of them easily three times the size of our
Gettysburg
class. Twenty or more ships of the second line, about half the size of the capital ships but still bigger than our largest vessels. I would estimate they had eight-inch guns. Finally forty, perhaps fifty smaller ships, like the one that defeated the
Gettysburg
, somewhat smaller than our cruisers, around the size of our frigates.”
“Speed?”
“The great ships I can’t say for certain. I saw several of their frigates maneuvering out of the harbor while I was being taken off the ship, and I would say they could reach eighteen knots, perhaps twenty.”
The group around Varinnia broke into feverish whispers. She turned to join them, occasionally looking back at him as if they were doctors conferring just outside the hearing distance of a patient who was desperately ill. Again he caught only snatches of phrases—steam turbines, cruise range, fuel storage to gross weight ratios.
He waited patiently, sensing a certain desperation on their part.
Andrew came over to join him, taking off his stovepipe hat, which one of his guards quietly took from his hand.
“An honest appraisal, Commander Cromwell,” Andrew asked softly, drawing Richard aside.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can we match them?”
Richard reluctantly shook his head. “Maybe in three years, or five. If we could capture one of their ships and tear it apart, then start making them.”
“In that time they’ll overrun us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, we have to come at it from another angle,” Andrew said, raising his voice enough so that the others could hear.
The arguing group fell silent.
“Another angle. Figure out their weakness as of this moment and attack it, at the very least to buy time so that we can then apply a long-term plan.”
“Their weakness is political,” Webster interjected. “I can figure that much from the report of this young commander.”
Richard sensed a distrust on Webster’s part. Was it because of O’Donald? he wondered. Surely that would leak out sooner or later. Had Andrew already shared that bit of information with the only member of his cabinet who was an old survivor of the 35th Maine?
“Our flyers versus theirs perhaps?” Theodor asked.
Richard gave a nod of approval. “I think we have the speed on them. The machine I flew had the range—it was made for that—but it was slow. It was built to span the long distances between their islands.”
“How you flew it for a day and a half is beyond me,” Webster said, and again Richard wondered if there was a question about the truthfulness of his report.
“I was desperate, sir,” Richard replied evenly. “That can drive a man to do most anything.”
“Basing decisions related to flyers and tactical application on a vague report regarding just one of their machines is more than a bit reckless,” Petronius interjected. “I would think that if this whole thing is even true to start with, they’d have given this young lieutenant here a worthless machine.”
Andrew let the flicker of a smile light his features and held out his hand before Richard could respond.
“Two things we must do,” Andrew said, fixing everyone with his gaze. “Long-term first. If we can buy a year, two years, what can you do?” he asked. “I need to know that now, today. You can give me the details later. I know you people have been cooking up a lot of wild ideas. That’s what you are paid to do.”
He looked over at Ferguson, who smiled conspiratorially. “I want a concise proposal on long-term development plans by this afternoon. I think I can get the support you’ve been screaming about, and which I have honestly wanted to get for you all along.
“This afternoon I will meet with several senators to let them in on this. We have to put together, at once, a proposal for a naval buildup unlike anything we’ve ever done before, then ram it through Congress before they have time to think about it, while they are still afraid. Give them time to think, and then the arguing will start and months will drag out, which we obviously can’t afford.”
“And suppose the whole thing is for naught,” Webster asked. “Six months from now, when we’ve spent millions, then what?”
“Bill, do you honestly believe that?”
Webster hesitated. “It’s a lot to gamble based on the report of one man.”
“I’d rather bet on it now than wake up one morning to hear that the Kazan fleet is steaming into Constantine, or worse, coming up the Mississippi to blow us apart. Until proven otherwise I have to assume it is correct.”
Richard stood silent, stomach knotted, wishing he was, at this moment, anywhere else.
Webster finally grumbled in agreement and fell silent. Richard looked over at Petronius, who stood with arms folded, saying nothing.
“To match their ships of the line?” Varinnia announced. “Three years at least. There isn’t a slip here big enough to support such a project. We’d need to increase the size of this facility four fold at least. We could shift frigate production over to the smaller yards at Roum and Cartha.”
“That will help get votes,” Webster replied, and Andrew nodded in agreement.
“The number of ships?” Andrew asked.
“We should do it the same way we make guns, artillery,” Varinnia replied. “I’ve always said the way we put ships together is all wrong. It is not an assembly-line process like we have for other things. Make standard design for several classes of ships, then get the factories rolling.”
She pointed at the half-completed cruisers lining the piers.
“We put these together like craftsmen, turning out only enough pieces to fit each ship. It all goes too slowly. We must have total standardization, train more workers, then start churning them out one after another.”
“But it won’t be that easy,” Petronius replied. “Consider the question of scale. Armor plating is difficult to cast, and for what you are thinking about, by the gods, we don’t know much of anything. How thick is the armor, how deep do their armor-piercing shells penetrate, how do they delay the fuses so they burst inside the target rather than on top of it? We’ve talked about steam turbines, even built small-scale models, but one big enough to move a frigate?” He threw up his hands in frustration.
“You have a few months to work that out,” Andrew announced. “Just to gear up will take time. The sheer labor needed to expand this shipyard will take months before the first keel is even laid down. Put everyone you have on the problems and come up with the designs.”
“They’re amphibious,” Richard said as the conversation paused for a moment. “I doubt if they are simply going to hit Constantine and be done. They’ll land an army. They could put thirty thousand or more ashore anywhere along the two thousand miles of our coast and in six months make it half a million. I was told, during that battle they had already placed tens of thousands of troops ashore and built landing strips for aerosteamers, all within a couple of days.” All fell silent as they digested the enormous implications of what he’d said.
“The first question is, when and where will they strike, if they are indeed coming,” Petronius interjected, breaking the silence. “Deal with that first.”
“Constantine,” several of the group said at the same time, followed by nods of agreement.
“How do they even know where Constantine is?” Webster asked.
“As I said in my report,” Richard replied, “they sent spies here years ago. They must have charts drawn up, showing our bases.”
“They know where Constantine is, and that is the first place they will head for,” Andrew stated.
“Do we order Bullfinch to pull out?” Webster asked. “No,” came the sharp reply from Andrew. “Do that and the Greeks might very well leave the Republic, and then we have a civil war on our hands. We have to fight to hold it.”
Andrew looked over at Richard. “Go on, I want to hear what you are thinking. Should we try to hold Constantine? Or should I say, can we hold Constantine?”
Richard took a deep breath. “We fight there with what we have right now, and we lose, sir. Their main ships could shell the fortifications and the naval depot to rubble. They land, encircle the town, and it is over.”
“We can’t concede to them, in the opening move, a base on our coast,” Petronius replied sharply.
“I fear, sir, that they will take it regardless.”
Richard could sense Andrew’s tension, and he wondered if he was sounding too defeatist.
“The other place they will land is on the Bantag coast,” Varinnia announced. “It’s obvious.”
Andrew nodded sadly in agreement.
“So we have two battles, on two fronts.”
“Consider the prospect that they might strike on three fronts,” Webster interjected. “They could very well venture up the Mississippi, knowing that it will blockade us, in a way, actually cut us off from our states along the coast. There’s only one rail line down there, so far, to Constantine. They know we are reliant on the river as well.”
“There is one other factor,” Richard said slowly. “For the moment, we are the desperate ones. For them this, as much as anything, is a political maneuver.”
Andrew looked over at him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that, sir. There is a game within a game and we are but pawns. It is the struggle between Hazin and the emperor for power. If we could drive a wedge there, it might buy time. Second, there is contempt for us. The Hordes quickly learned desperation. You threatened their ride, their source of food, of survival. Whether we live or die at this moment matters to the Kazan not at all.”
He fell silent, wondering if he had said too much, but the group around him were gazing at him intently.
“Go on,” Andrew said.
“The farsighted might perceive that twenty, fifty years from now there could be a conflict to the death over which race will survive on this world.”
“I always held some hope that it would be different,” Andrew replied, an infinite sadness in his voice.
“Those bastards?” Webster snapped. “The world is too small for both of us. You can dream about it, Mr. President, but those here who lived under the yoke of the Hordes know different.”
As he spoke, Varinnia’s assistant nodded in agreement. “Later, Mr. Webster, later,” Andrew sighed. “Continue, Commander.”
“In the long term, this will be a political war as well. I know that doesn’t bear on the issue at hand, but I had to mention it. I suspect that Hazin is urging the emperor to attack in order to divert him. You see, if they didn’t fight us, they’d fight among themselves. Perhaps their nobility would turn on this cult of Hazin’s and destroy it.”