The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 19

Devnum

Hortensius made his way down the docks again. The non-stop travel was a reminder of how time was catching up to him. It felt like only a few years ago that he was just opening his first factory, working constantly, getting it running and profitable through sheer willpower alone.

He still had that same willpower, but his body was starting to let him down, his hips screaming at him for the long walk from the train station to the docks. While he found the entire ship project interesting from a technical standpoint, he would be happy for the day when he could just stay at his factory and stop the endless back and forth travel.

“Lucan!” Hortensius called out as he shuffled his way to the prototype slip where the shipmaster was looking over the rebuilt steamship prototype.

“Hortensius, my friend. Thanks for coming down, I know these trips are wearing on you, but we got the engine and propeller in place and started the tests, and I thought you’d want to see it. It’s a little early in the process, but after the last incident … well, I wanted to make sure we both had eyes on it to make sure the flaws were ironed out.”

“Of course, of course. It is unfortunate but this is how we learn the hard lessons. Thankfully, for this catastrophe, I believe we’ve identified the root cause.”

Lucan held out his arm to take some of Hortensius’ weight, the two walking out onto the platform and down into the still open shell of the test platform, allowing him to look down into the still gleaming copper pipes and rebuilt boiler.

“The issue stemmed from the thin, high-pressure lines we initially used,” Hortensius continued. “They allowed excessive pressure to build up and feed back into the boiler, leading to catastrophic failure, and I think we’ve implemented some additions to the design to fix that.”

“Your man mentioned that, but didn’t go into specifics.”

“We’ve implemented thicker, reinforced pipes capable of withstanding higher pressures and incorporated a series of pressure relief valves that should allow the boiler to shed any backup and prevent that buildup from occurring again. Of course, my team will continue to monitor the system and make sure it really does fix it.”

“If we’re releasing steam to protect the boilers, how do we keep the pressure up? Won’t it just bleed all the power away?”

“It shouldn’t, since it should only release the steam in over-pressure situations, which would only happen if something else had failed, but that is possible in a combat situation, which could lead to a loss of power during combat.”

“That isn’t ideal.”

“No. Although neither is the boiler exploding during a combat situation.”

“That’s true,” Lucan said, frowning down at the ship.

Hortensius knew the shipbuilder would prefer to stick to wood and sail, things he was more comfortable with.

“The only real fix for this is training,” Hortensius said. “I think it’s clear every ship is going to need an engineer, which in this case just means someone trained on the system inside and out, that has been taught not just how to operate it, but to recognize problems and perform field improvements. It will make getting ships out of the slip harder, of course, since proper training can take as much time as building one of these, but I think we can set up a program to do it.”

“We should really start that now, then. The Consul has already asked about the new river ships twice this month, and I imagine those requests will become more frequent as the year draws to an end. If we want these engineers of yours trained properly, they need to start now. Unless you plan on parting with some of your people.”

“Ha, you know that is out of the question. I’ll begin working on a program now and see what volunteers we can get for it, since I’m sure that too will need some fine-tuning as we get into it.”

“Good. Then I’m extra glad you came out today because that could have been a major delay point in this entire project. You know, I must admit, this experience has given me a newfound appreciation for the risks involved in our work. I know you talked about how much harder the accelerated timeline made everything, but … I hadn’t put that together with the safety risk before.”

“Yes. I think it takes the first big failure for all of us, before we realize just how big the costs can be if we make a mistake in haste.”

“Yea,” Lucan said in the tone of a man remembering his own failures, before shaking it off. “Well, so far it seems the design is working better, but we’ll see once we get the entire ship built around it. I also wanted you to come by and talk about the propeller design. We got the bent one pulled out and had to make some design adjustments for this new one, as well as adding in the new protective shell you designed, which I have some concerns about.”

“Really? I thought it was actually ingenious why one of my designers brought it to me. It wasn’t in the Consul’s original plans, but the small-scale river testing we did showed that the housing would allow enough water to pass through to not impact momentum but would protect the blade and shaft from debris and even small impacts with shallow riverbeds, should they occur.”

“And our testing shows the same. My concern was twofold. One was clogging. The way it allows water to pass through is great, and will probably work well on the ocean, but in a river, with silt and debris, clogging will be a problem. I’ve talked to some of your guys about using some of the cabling equipment you designed for other areas and making some kind of metal weave to put over it, to keep that stuff out of the flow, but that has its own problem. It’s easy to see the pressure created by the water coming through will hold those debris in place, clogging the mesh. The more it gets clogged, the less water that comes through and the less propulsion we’ll get.”

“That is a good point,” Hortensius said, pressing his lips together in thought.

“I do have a suggestion, however.”

“Really? I’m all ears.”

This was the part Hortensius liked the most about collaboration. The bouncing of ideas off of each other, sharing thoughts. It got his veins pumping.

“Instead of the opening at the rear of the intake, what if that was closed and pointed, because it’s also adding drag to the ship, and instead we put these almost gill-like inlets down the length of the shaft housing to allow water in, smaller and still with the metal weave protecting from debris, but with enough of them, and each only providing a fraction of the flow, so that any one of them, or several of them, getting clogged wouldn’t overall impact the water flow.”

Hortensius nodded along as Lucan spoke. “That’s interesting. That’s very interesting. If it’s not a flat wide surface, or even the curved one we had, and if we angled it out instead of in, the pressure of the water moving along the housing as it cut through the water would push debris that did try to clog in the vents. That could very well work.”

Lucan beamed. “I’m glad you approve.”

“I do. You know, this is where it shows how much practical experience matters. The theory of all this is workable, but you have real experience with the water. A lifetime of it. Which really helps see other ways to do things that we didn’t think of. We need more of this. I should probably look at bringing in experts at whatever area a project is for the other stuff we’re doing, who’ve used the design, or previous or similar design, in the field enough to see the pitfalls we don’t think of.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Lucan said, still clearly happy he’d been able to contribute.

Hortensias, however, was already working out the venting idea. They were very close to being able to actually build one of these river beasts. He still didn’t see how well these could help them in the war, considering the rivers mostly ran west to east and not across the enemies’ path of advancement. What mattered was the Consul did.

Besides, this had been a test platform for the ocean-going ships all along, which meant they were closer to that now than ever before.

***

Pella, Macedonia

The journey to Greece had been long and Ramirus’s very bones hurt. The first two-thirds of the journey had not been that difficult, mostly done on long stretches of rail in fairly comfortable passenger cars, with the exception of a short boat trip across the channel.

The real trouble had been once they’d reached the edge of Italia, where the Britannian rail lines ended. From there it had been horseback over rough paved roads, across mountains and hills. Ramirus realized how much he’d grown used to living in a more modernized society, since this would have once been his normal transportation when he traveled beyond Devnum, and now he hardly ever even mounted a horse. That had also been almost seven years prior. He was so much older now.

Finally, they’d made it to Pella, the once-grand capital of Macedonia. The city’s faded glory struck him immediately. Not just that it had faded from its glory days under Philip and Alexander, before the rise of the Carthaginians, although it certainly had lost the splendor it held at the height of the Hellenistic age. Again, he was forced to realize how much the Consul had given them and how it had affected nearly every aspect of his life.

Since leaving Gaul and even Italia, which had started to adopt some of Britannia’s cultural and technological changes, every city they’d traveled through had been run down, rough, and difficult. The little things he’d grown used to from the lack of steam whistles and telegraph lines to the very people, who looked generally sicker and more malnourished than his, or any of their allies, did.

It wasn’t completely devoid. Here and there, a hint of smuggled-in or purchased Britannian influence could be seen. Steel fixtures that looked much newer and cleaner than the steel around it, cut with a much cleaner edge. A small steam-powered water pump in the corner of a square, chugging away next to a well of some sort, the presence of which once again proved that items marked as only for sale to allies didn’t always seem to stay that way. They still made their way out of allied hands, resold to people not part of the alliance.

That, however, wasn’t the most notable thing about the city. The most notable thing was the people. Ramirus had traveled through city after city on the long journey across the continent, and once they passed the bounds of Britannia influence, he had noticed how each step further east he went, the more subdued the people seemed to be.

The citizens of Pella hurried about their business, not stopping to talk to their neighbors in most cases, and those that did, did so in hushed whispers. There was a tension that seemed to hang over the entire city. The only exception to the fear of interacting or even noticing your neighbors seemed to be his party, which stood out, followed by a squad of pretorians carrying the long Britannian rifles, escorted by guardsmen still in armor with swords, spears, and the occasional Britannian musket.

People’s eyes followed them as they passed toward the somewhat small palace at the center of the city, all that remained of Philip’s once-powerful home.

They were led inside to something more like a teaching amphitheater than a meeting room or a forum. Already inside were dozens of men in various dress, although it was all still unmistakably Greek. Another difference from the Britannians, who’d shed their traditional togas for more comfortable and versatile pants and tunics that the Consul and the legionnaires had adopted. Looking at the draped clothes the Greek dignitaries wore, Ramirus suppressed a frown. He did not miss the days of dealing with all of that fabric. It wasn’t the greatest invention by the Consul, but it wasn’t far off either.

He knew some of the men by description or style of dress, the others Ramirus could only guess, but it did seem as if the majority of the various Greek kingdoms and city-states were here.

A heavyset man with graying hair at his temples rose as Ramirus’s party entered. “Welcome, emissaries of Britannia. I am Aristides of Athens. We have gathered, as requested, to hear your words. Though I must say, many here question the wisdom of entertaining Britannian overtures at this time.”

He spoke Greek, as they always did. It was standard for negotiations to take place in the language of the larger nations, and Latin had become the default language of the majority of Britannia’s allies because of that. And yet, the Greeks saw themselves as perpetually above everyone else and refused to ‘stoop to the level of barbarians.’

Ramirus inclined his head respectfully and replied in the same language. “We appreciate your willingness to meet, despite your reservations. I assure you, what we have to discuss is of utmost importance to the future of all our peoples. And I thank you for your warm welcome. I am Ramirus, emissary of Empress Lucilla Germanicus and the Britannian Empire. I know we have spoken to most of your representatives in the past about various alliances and treaties to enable our two peoples to work together, and even with the men you sent to the council where the great western alliance was formed. At that time, war was a possibility, a far-off worry, and your people chose to not join those of us who began to prepare for its coming. Now that the war is here and your own borders have been violated, we have returned, to once again ask you to stand with us against this enemy from the far east that hopes to replace themselves as our overlords now that we have freed ourselves.”

Straight and to the point, as he had found was always the best way when dealing with the Greeks. Otherwise, they would pull everything down into pointless debate on topics of little importance, completely missing the reasoning of the original offer.

It took them no time to begin to do that once again.

“We cannot simply bow to Britannian demands!” cried out one man.

“What of our sovereignty? Will you make us mere puppets?” yelled another.

Across the entire gathering, men began to shout reasons why they didn’t want to join the alliance, as if nothing had changed. As if Britannia had marched in and offered demands without reason.

For several minutes, Ramirus stood there and let them vent their frustration. Waiting for enough of a pause but otherwise ignoring their objections. Finally, Ramirus raised his hand, thankfully quelling the cacophony for a moment.

“Gentlemen, before we continue down this well-worn path many times. How have these lines of questioning protected your people? Are your cities still safe, unthreatened? Your colonies thriving, unconquered? Does denying the reality of your situation protect your people in any way, or does it hand them to your enemy?”

That, at least, had an effect. It was as if he had personally walked up to each man in the room and slapped him in the face. Again, there was an outcry, men demanding an apology for his words, as if that was what was hurting them and not the armies marching even now across their lands.

“I am sorry if my words struck you so callously, and I did not come here to cause offense, but we have heard word of how poorly the situation fares for you. Of armies already marching into Thrace. Of your people dying. Now is not the time to bicker and squabble. Now is the time to come together and stop the enemy before another step of ground is taken. I know your people can see it. I could feel their fear as we made our way through your cities for this meeting. They are afraid of the horde already killing fellow Greeks, with promises to kill more before they are done. Aren’t you duty-bound to speak for your people’s fears? To see to their safety?”

For a moment, no one answered. Really, what could they say? Everything Ramirus had said was true. Their people were in danger, were already dying. And yet still they argued.

“Pretty words, Britannian,” a voice called out from the back. “Considering your failures to protect those who did agree to your terms.”

Ramirus turned to face the speaker, a tall, lean man with a neatly trimmed beard. “And you are?”

“Lysander of Thrace,” the man replied, rising to his feet. “While you speak of fear and duty, we’ve heard reports of your struggles in Germania. How can you protect us when you can barely hold your own lines?”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. They were so ready to believe any word that reinforced their own biases. Ramirus could feel the situation slipping away from him.

“The war in Germania is complex and we, the easterners, have been retreating for weeks now, losing two major battles to our legions.”

“And yet still they stand on the soil of Germania, whom you swear to protect. We hear even now, more of the easterners march to counter your forces. There is a better way,” he said, looking now to the men around him. “The easterners have offered terms. Favorable ones.”

“You can’t seriously be considering capitulation,” Ramirus said, even as an almost wave swept across the men as they took in the news and began to whisper among themselves.

“And why not? The easterners offer protection, trade, and autonomy. What does Britannia offer but more war and uncertainty?”

Ramirus watched in dismay as several Greek leaders nodded in agreement. The atmosphere in the room had shifted dramatically. What had begun as reluctance and skepticism was now morphing into genuine interest in surrender.

“This is madness,” Ramirus said. “Moments ago, many of you complained that our offer, that came with no claim over your territory, no financial burden, nothing more than your participation in your own defense, was an affront to your sovereignty. And yet to a people who have already killed your citizens, who move to burn your cities, offers you subjection, you see some kind of salvation. What kind of insanity is this?”

“You have a point,” Aristides said. “But you do not offer guarantees. Unless you plan on attacking Greece if we choose to capitulate and surrender?”

Ramirus didn’t answer, mostly because he couldn’t say, and definitely couldn’t promise, anything if they sided with the easterners. The debate went on for twenty more minutes, and nothing changed. Some of the assembled leaders, mostly those farthest from Asia Minor, were on the fence, unsure of what they wanted to do, but many of those closer to the east, which was a majority of the major states, seemed to be siding with the Thracians and could not be budged.

They were reacting out of fear, spurred on by their previous choices made out of apathy and fear of doing something when they could have done nothing. It was one bad choice after another compounding down on each other.

They ended with agreements to meet again and an offer for Ramirus to stay in the city, which he accepted with the hopes that he could convince at least some of them to see reason.

But he needed to send word to the Empress right away and wished a telegraph line had made its way all the way here. She needed to know things in Greece were much worse than anyone feared.