Alek peered at the giant black shape splayed across the snow, the birds whirling overhead. "But they're reinflating the ship. They must be planning something."
"That's why I'm here," Volger said. "They're going up without engines, like a hot-air balloon. An east wind will carry them over France. It should work, as long as that wind arrives before the Germans do."
Alek looked at the Stormwalker, despairing. Maybe they could still pull the walker upright ... but the Leviathan would never have enough control to set the walker on its feet.
Volger took a step closer, the anger fading from his face. Suddenly he looked exhausted. "It's up to you to decide, Alek, if you want to surrender."
"Surrender?" Alek said. "But the Germans would hang me."
"No - to the Darwinists. Tell them who and what you are, and I'm sure they'll take you with them. You'll be a prisoner, but you'll be safe. Perhaps they'll win this war. And then, if you've been obedient, they might install you on the throne of Austria-Hungary, a friendly puppet emperor to keep the peace."
Alek took a step backward in the snow. Volger couldn't be saying this. It was one thing to stay hidden - no one expected a fifteen-year-old to fight on the front lines. But surrendering to the enemy?
He'd be remembered as a traitor for all time.
"There must be another choice."
"Of course. You can stay here and fight when the Germans come. And die with the rest of us."
Alek shook his head. It made no sense, Volger talking like this. The man always had a strategy, some plan to bend the world to his will. He couldn't be giving up.
"You needn't decide yet, Alek," Volger said. "We have a day or so before the Germans return. You might have a long life in front of you, if you surrender." He shrugged again. "But I'm done with giving you advice."
With that, the man turned and walked away.
THIRTY-FOUR
Alek took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Dylan opened it, frowning when he saw Alek.
"You look barking awful."
"I've come to see Dr. Barlow," Alek said.
The young airman opened the door of the machine room wider. "She'll be back soon. But she's in a foul mood, I'm afraid."
"I know about your engine trouble," Alek said. He'd decided not to hide that Count Volger had been spying on them. For his plan to work he and the Darwinists had to trust each other.
Dylan pointed at the box of mysterious eggs. "Aye, and on top of the engines, that barking idiot Newkirk didn't keep these warm enough last night. But it's all my fault, of course, as far as the boffin is concerned."
Alek looked down at the box - only three eggs were left.
"That's too bad."
"The mission's stuffed anyway." Dylan pulled a thermometer from the box and checked it. "With no engines we'll be lucky to make it back to France."
"That's what I've come about," Alek said. "Our walker's also finished."
"Are you sure?" Dylan gestured at the drawers that filled the room. "We could give you any spare parts you need. They're useless to us."
"We need more than parts, I'm afraid," Alek said. "We can't stand the walker back upright."
"Barking machines!" Dylan exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you? I've never seen a beastie that couldn't get up on its own. Well, except a turtle. And one of my auntie's cats."
Alek raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure your auntie's cat would have survived that aerial bomb."
"You'd be surprised. He's quite fat." Dylan's eyes lit up. "Why don't you come with us?"
"That's the problem," Alek said. "I don't think the others will, not if it means surrendering to the French. But if we could sneak away when you land, then maybe ..."
Maybe he could convince his men to save themselves. And perhaps he could salvage a little of Volger's respect.
Dylan was nodding. "We'll be crash-landing in some random spot, so I doubt there'll be an honor guard there to greet us. Mind you, it's a dodgy business, free-ballooning in a hydrogen breather. Anything could happen."
"What are your chances?"
"Not so bad." Dylan shrugged. "One time I flew a Huxley halfway across England - and all by myself!"
"Really?" Alek said. For a boy, Dylan seemed to have had the most extraordinary adventures. For a moment Alek wished he could forget his birthright and become just like him, a common soldier without land or title.
"It was my first day in the Service," Dylan began, "and an unexpected storm came up, one of the worst London's ever seen. Tore up whole buildings from the ground, including - "
The door suddenly flew open and Dr. Barlow swept in, wielding a map case and a furious expression.
"The captain is a fool," she announced. "This ship is full of idiots!"
Dylan saluted. "But the eggs are warm as toast, ma'am."
"Well, that's reassuring, though meaningless under the circumstances. Back to France he wants to go!" Dr. Barlow spun the map case in her hands, then looked up distractedly. "Ah, Alek. I hope your walking machine is in better shape than this benighted airship."
He bowed. "I'm afraid not, Doctor. Master Klopp doesn't think we can get it standing again."
"Is it as bad as that?"
"I'm afraid so. In fact, I'm here to ask if we can come with you." Alek looked at his boots. "If you can manage the weight of five extra men, we'd be in your debt."
Dr. Barlow tapped the map case against her palm. "Lift won't be a problem. We're exhausting our own food as well as yours, giving everything to the animals." She stared out the window. "And our crew is smaller than it once was."
Alek nodded. He'd seen the shrouded bodies outside, and the men laboring to bury them in the iron-hard ice beneath the snow.
"But France isn't neutral territory," she said. "You'll be taken prisoner."
"That's the favor I've come to ask." Alek took a deep breath. "You'll be coming down in some random spot, Dylan says. We could slip away the moment you land."
"And no one the wiser," Dylan added.