The Time of Eagles

"Captain, all is well", the first lieutenant of the Imperial Russian airship Pobieda saluted and handed over the bridge to his commanding officer. It was now time for him to take some rest, and Dmitri Vissarionovich Kresninski was well looking forward to several hours of shut-eye. The Pobieda - Victory - was one of the newest of Russia's airships, constructed in the Constantinople Airship Yards, based upon the vice-regal city and under the control of the vice-regal authorities. As such it had been sent South at maximum speed - detect the fleet, and report. But so far there had been nothing.

Back upon the bridge the monotony was already being broken
"Single ship, sir", sixteen year-old Roman Ostrovski had the keenest eyes amongst the observers, "Scout cruiser, bearing just shy of one-twenty degrees."
"Ours ?!" snapped the Captain, already heading in his direction
"Novik class sir, I think there are two, perhaps three more just on the edge of my vision"
"Show me"

- - -

"Novik to command", the radio operator banged out the signal, "shadow at following co-ordinates"
Vassily added them and sat back, tensely waiting for a reply. It came a few minutes later
"Command to Novik, fleet steering forty points further to South. Remain on original course with Diana and Aurora."
Vassily frowned, then nodded as he worked it out. He dashed upwards to hand the communique to Captain Ignatieff

- - -

"It is done sir", the Armenian first officer of the ironclad battleship Retvisan stood back and let his admiral look through the small hatch.
Grand Duke Alexei Konstantinovich took in the scene within, and nodded to the first officer,
"You are now captain", he said, "What of our pursuit ?"
"It is already dealt with, admiral", a njew confidence seemed to suffuse the Armenian, "Novik and her squadron will lead the airship away whilst we turn towards our destination"
"Excellent", the Grand Duke muttered, "Keep up the good work"


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Colonel Boris Rostoropski stood on the footplate of one of the larger tracked artillery pieces, and waved in slow, deliberate motions at its driver as he manoevred the land behemoth into the firing bay that had been prepared for it upon the shores of the Bosphorus. Two minutes later it was done, and aching of muscle, the forty-five year old cavalry veteran leapt down. It was indeed a far cry from the whinnying of horses, and the snorting, pawing beasts that had blessed many a day in the past. These mechanical beasts made their own noises, but they were an unearthly chorus as compared to what he had been used to

But, still, he was learning to love them. The tracked artillery wagons had no minds of their own, except what errors would creep in from lazy, or incorrect, figuring on the parts of man. They certainly had no wish to mate with one another ! In fact, apart from the noisome smell of the oil from the engines, and apart from the constant thundering din, these behemoths would make the ideal post-equine friend

Boris looked towards where the general was dismounting from his railcar and sighed. Count Yuridon had not even accepted rail travel as of yet, quite what he made of the mobile guns with their caterpillar tracks was anyone's guess. It did not remain so for long,
"Damned machines !" he yelled, coming towards them in the light drizzle that graced the cliffs, "What we need them for, I do not know !"
Nobody spoke, for to argue with the man was to risk demotion, but yet to agree with him out of mere convenience was to be side-lined in the service once his presence had swept through

The sixty-four year-old laid a hand upon the nearest vehicle, and felt the coldness of the metal,
"Hardly the inviting warmth of a horse, eh ?"
As the question had been addressed specifically to him, Boris could do nothing apart from nod his head,
"A horse would be warmer, yes sir" he tried
"Too damned right it will !" the general spat in journeyman's Russia, "What use is this anyway ?"
"It points across the sea at the Egyptians" the colonel said

There was a silence, then the old general nodded his shaggy head,
"Perhaps then, even so, it has some worth" he said

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Abdulaziz Pasha was not a happy man. His command headquarters in Bursa was being constantly harassed by close-in flights from Russian light airships, and the Cayley aeroplanes promised from Cairo last month, promised from Damascus last week, had not yet reached this North-Western reach of the Egyptian Empire

Instead he had reports of monstrous tracked vehicles bearing super-guns lining the European shore across the Bosphorus, of scores of Russian airships out across the seas, and of hundreds of thousands of men marching slowly across the Dobruja towards the mustering grounds of Constantinople

For his own part, Abdulaziz could find fifty thousand veterans who resented the call-up but who would defend their homes, along with two squadrons of cavalry that had been diverted from the Pontine border much, it appeared, to their great annoyance. Recognising them as Kurds, he assumed they had had some scam going there, and resented losing the profits by being sent to where they would do Cairo a much greater service

A motor car trundled into the town, penants flying, horns blaring. The Pasha stepped outside of his office, and waited. Two minutes later he beheld the exhausted form of one of the minor princes of the ruling dynasty
"I am come from Smyrna", the man breathed, "It is true !"

Abdulazis stared at him. He had not for one minute entertained doubts as to the man's origins, in fact had he NOT come from Smyrna he would have been most surprised.
"What do you mean ?" he asked, steel in his voice
"The Russian Grand Duke !", the young prince exclaimed, "He has defected !"

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
And the USA-leadership does not want attack the barrier-republics?
Why does the USA not want to reintegrate those breakaway-republics?
The current war would be a good excuse for an invasion.



Merde. :mad:

Mainly because so to do would add another several tens of thousands of men to the strength of the enemy. Its been something like forty years and a whole generation has grown up in the TMF and would fight to preserve its independence

I hope the 18 or so pieces I wrote last night will explain how things are working out with answer to some of your insightful questions :)

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
The broadside of eight 12" guns roared out across the night. A moment later there came an answering salvo, then one from elsewhere that answered that, and another from yet somewhere else that answered both of them. This was the scene North of Alexandria as night fell

Aboard the armoured cruiser Rurik a score of men were holed up before the engine rooms, fighting off yet another attempt to overpower them. Captain Stefan Kolchak, his right arm bloodied and bandaged in a sling, looked out as the bastards retreated for the third time.
"We have to hold them !" he rasped
"Yes sir", the Chief Engineer was a Russian, like him, a man from a respectable family in Ryazan
"What do we do sir ?!" wheedled the youngest of the officers, barely more than a lad, a young aristocrat from Archangel
"We hold, and then we attack" Kolchak told him
The youngster was not the only one to gape at the captain in astonishment

"Holy...wow !" US observer Captain Pike Atherton hopped from one foot to the other as the ironclad battleship Dvienadsat Apostolov slid beneath the waves. To his ears it still felt rather blasphemous for the Russians to have named such a vessel the 'Twelve Apostles' but it scarcely mattered now. The ship was dead.
"You see how it will play out ?" his companion asked him
Atherton nodded slowly. They were upon the observation platform of the Egyptian cruiser Feth-i-Bulend, high above the water, looking down and out at the stupendous scenes before the ancient city
"Even if the counter-mutineers win..." he said
"Yes !", the Egyptian laughed, "The Russians will be broken !"

Admiral Grand Duke Alexei Konstantinovich staggered back from the doorway, his face a mask of surprise, his arm bloodied, the bone shattered and sticking out through the ruptured muscle
"Oh my God !" the young radio operator squealed, leaping out of his seat
"Sit down !" First Lieutenant Nikolai Bagovich waved a pistol in the direction of the young man, who subsidided
"God...", the Grand Duke lowered himself to a seat, "Why do they fight back so ?"
Blagovich shrugged,
"Because they are simpletons led by boyars" he spat, "True socialists, let alone Armenians, Greeks or Georgians, all of us are outnumbered"
"But I had gambled on surprise !" the Romanov protested
"That would appear to have been lost, sir" Blagovich let himself say

"Oh...balls" seargant of the Marines, Leon Kata stepped back and shook his head, "They are coming" he said
The ship's captain lay in a prone position, both of his legs bandaged, but blood still running steadily through the bandages
"Fucking....kill.....them !" the old man wheezed
Kata looked around the cramped quarters. Of Greek descent himself, and who knew the exact form of his ancestors' surname, he could count another three Greeks, five Armenians, two Socialists, and the Captain, who was a Georgian. Their revolution was about to be extinguished
"Open the scuttles" Kata suggested to the next most senior naval officer
For a moment the junior lieutenant hesitated, then a cacophony of shots from without convinced him otherwise. He ran the other way to pass on the word

"No !" Petr Komanski stood beside the one remaining ship's boat and refused to allow them access
"For God's sake !" growled the Grand Duke
"You have abandoned God !" the young man screamed
A shot rang out, and the Admiral fell. Then another dozen shots and the young sailor disintegrated in a mist of blood.
"Take the fucking boat" snapped Blagovich

"Something is wrong !" Stefan Kolchak stumbled and grabbed hold of the railing as the cruiser lurched beneath him
"Cocks !" heaved a man beside him, "They have opened the sea cocks"
After a stupified pause, the truth of this became self-evident as a roar began to work its way up from below
"To the deck !" yelled the captain

Nikolai Blagovich looked back at the rapidly settling wreck that was the fleet flagship
"At least the Tsar won't get much use from it" he muttered
The others stared at him, but as yet no one dared to say what they felt

"Fuck you Kata !" Stefan Kolchak stared down the passageway at the Marines officer who stood there as if frozen, gun by his side, spray from the scuttles already bursting under him
"Fuck you sir !" Kata managed, "At least I am not a traitor !"
Kolchak fired and the bastard twisted around and fell heavily. The Rurik's captain fired again, and the man's convulsions ceased
"This way !" Kolchak yelled, "We are back in control of the ship !"

As Pike Atherton watched from his distant eyrie, it did not matter who was in control of the Rurik. Like twenty-five percent of other vessels of the Russian Mediterranean Fleet she passed beneath the waves before dawn.
When that hour came, red-tinged and casting its fiery light upon the sea, those remaining were either battered, blasted hulks, or flying tattered and amateur versions of the Egyptian eagle. Whatever other ships had survived the darkest of nights had fled, presumably North, presumably back in loyal Russian hands

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
The mortars fired as the early morning mists rose swiftly from the ground. Within an hour, the artillery was blasting away at the American trenches, the scrambled US Cayley aeroplanes unable to do anything to affect their aim. Their few strafing runs, using the new properller blade interuptors, succeeded only in driving the gun crews behind their expanded shields, whilst the few aeroplanes outfitted to drop incendiary devices wasted much time on getting into a good sweeping position, before loosing what usually did injury to at most one or two people. Two machines shot down was an expensive cost for such work, and by Midday the Americans had called off their aerial assault

This was just as the Fredonians wanted it. Their battering of San Diego had been going on for the best part of a month now, and they were no nearer to being able to storm the city than at the start. True, they had wrecked most of the Northern quarter, and killed upwards of ten thousand men, but the railroads continued to bring in US reinforcements across the South-West Territories, and holding the position was a lot easier than taking it, even if greatly more expensive

A new commander had arrived that morning, a Colonel Pershing apparently full of vim and spite, at least if the ubiquitous American newspaper men were to be believed. The Fredonian command had determined to give him a warm welcome, and as the sun began to set, Fredonian airships began to pass across the lines, dropping bombs that were much more substantial in nature than anything the puny aeroplanes could carry. Searchlights stabbed the skies, and a few gun batteries opened up on the droning marauders, but central and Southern San Diego suffered that night as they had not dnoe so far during the siege

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Stefan Kolchak sat on the deck of the corvette Bobr and watched as the island of Crete drew near. What remained of the Russian Mediterranean Fleet steamed about the little ship, but he hardly saw it, so great was his loss. After it had become clear that the Rurik was doomed, he had ordered the evacuation of the armoured cruiser, and the neighbouring corvettes had taken on board those survivors that the rebel avisos had not shot up upon their lifeboats. Most of these avisos had been sunk in turn by morning, but the blood toll had been high, and only fifty-six men had survived from his crew, twenty-four of them now upon the Bobr as she steamed away from infamy

"Signal from the flagship, sir", the Bobr's commanding officer was only a commander, Sergei Ustinov, but it was his ship, and Kolchak was a guest upon it.
"What is it, captain ?" he spoke courteously
The grizzled veteran relaxed a mite, grateful for the courtesy,
"Fleet to make for Mesaras Bay...", he paused, "Vice Admiral Felkerzam requests specifically that all senior surviving officers of lost ships report aboard the flagship upon arrival"
"I see" Kolchak nodded
That was all

Some hours later as dusk cast its cold shadow across the seas, the ironclad battleship Osliabia was a riot of light. Felkerzam was a short man, not imposing in his looks, but carrying with him a certain presence. He greeted each party as their cutter drew up alongside his flagship, then left it for his officers to invite the necessary people down towards his quarters. It was a full hour before he joined them
"Thank you", he acknowledged the patchy and unconvincing applause, "Sit"
They resumed their seats. He took his at the head of the conference table,
"Grand Duke Alexei has done us a signal dis-service" he said in a decided understatement, "We are here to pieve together these tragic events, and to forward to the Imperial Court as complete a list as possible of the ships lost beyond hope, and of those lost but which may now be in Egyptian hands"

There was a pause, then several voices spoke at once
"The Rurik is sunk !" Kolchak boomed
"The Dvienadsat Apostolov went down" another called out
"I think the Bayan still drifted" someone else admitted
"The rebels carried the Moskva !" another yelled

"Quiet !" Felkerzam half rose, "Have some decorum !", he motioned to a young officer beside him, "Lieutenant Djugashvili will take down the details. You will speak one at a time. You, first, please"
The officer indicated frowned
"I am Commander Ilyich Komeniev of the corvette Yenisei. My ship was rammed and sunk by a cruiser unknown, possibly out of control. As far as I know only myself and three other crewmen got off, taken aboard the aviso Rostoropni for transfer to fleet auxiliary Kamchatka"
"Next" intoned Felkerzam as Djugashvili's pen scratched across the page

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Colonel Pershing had been busy. As night fell and the Santos-Dumont airships began their regular passage over the port city, a dozen new, heavy Cayley aeroplanes roared into the sky. Searchlights lit up their targets for them, and double the number of usual guns opened up on the skies.

As the first bombing runs began, the new aeroplanes fell upon the airships, ripping through their toughened skins with their new rockets, shooting up their engines with heavy calibre rounds from weapons newly-slung beneath the wings. Airships blossomed into flame and fell trailing streams of fire towards the ground.

"That will teach the bastards not to under-estimate the United States !" snarled Colonel Pershing from his office

- - -

One week later things had turned around. The Los Angeles factories had already been working on Dr Barton's heavy airships, the Fredonian Navy having planned to use them to scout out West far beyond te current limit. When news of the San Diego aerial massacre had reached them, the Barton Works had upped its work, and by the end of the week had outfitted a half dozen new, experimental vessels for testing

Dr Barton himself was out here. Having only received minimal interest in his native Britain, he had taken his designs to where they had found a market - Austria on the one hand, and Fredonia on the other. Whilst Austria remained at peace, Fredonia was deep in a war, and he had gambled on this providing for him added opportunity to see his masterworks in action

As the sun edged towards Midday he was not disappointed. The half dozen new, heavy airships sailed gracefully in formation, heading swiftly Southwards

- - -

Colonel Pershing had gotten used to aerial superiority. His new heavy aeroplanes had, over the course of several nights, swept the skies of Fredonian airships, and he had authorised their commander, William Hayley, to begin operations against Fredonian positions. Three guns had been destroyed, and over fifty artillerymen killed in just that small period. Imagine what the long-term would bring !

It brought the Barton airships, huge, armoured, and powerfully-armed. The Cayley aeroplanes skipped about them, the heaviest of their number taking several hits before even showing damage, but the airships could take still more. As the aeroplanes began tumbling out of the sky, the American defenders let up a barrage of gunfire as never before seen, but few field pieces had the range and accuracy to hit an airship, and it was so much fire in the sky. One airship was winged, badly, and had to come down in the sea, her crew picked up by the Fredonian corvette San Francisco. But the remainder fought and won the battle of the skies

By the end of the week, no more Cayley aeroplanes flew after dark, and the Barton airships reigned supreme, bombing the American positions night after night

How long this could go on was anybody's guess, but was decidedly getting shorter


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Baron Mannerheim was rising forty, but his position within the Riksdag had been steadily rising over the last couple of years since the unexpected death of his father. As a parliamentarian, the young Finnish noble had become something of a bete noir of the current conservative government, and as the kingdom headed deeper into chaos it was evident that the younger Mannerheim intended to build even upon this

More senior nobles wished it so, seniority being both in years and in aristocratic standing. Mannerheim was the perfect middleman; from a good family, his father a successful businessman with a worthy, if undistinguished, parliamentary service behind him. There was neither any hint of scandal, nor any traces of support for authoritarianism. They used him, and he used them. This day he was to be found within the royal palace of Stockholm itself

"Your Majesty, the American alliance is dead !"
King Gustav VI Vasa stared at the upstart aritocrat and snapped,
"Remember your place, Baron !"
"No sir", Mannerheim snapped back, "You would do well to remember yours !"
"What ?!" the Royal Chamberlain surged forward, but one of the parliamentarians caught him with a right hook and knocked him to the floor
As the king stared incredulously at the prone figure, Mannerheim reminded him,
"Spain did not become a republic for nothing..."


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
James, 3rd Earl Nelson looked around his Calcutta quarters and wrinkled his nose. He had travelled half way around the world for this ? He had half a mind to deck the government minister who had suggested his name, but half a mind was all could be for that worthy was to be found back home in London. But, God alive, what was he doing here ?!

"Your punkahwallah, sahib", a tall well-dressed Indian came in, leading another, younger lad by the hand
"What ?" Nelson blinked, the words washing over him, "You say ?"
"Your punkahwallah, if it please you, sahib"
James finally caught the honorific buried in the trailing word, but frowned at the former
"My whatty-what ?" he asked

"Please, sahib" the younger man lowered himself to one knee, "If it pleases you"
Nasty thoughts began to surge through Nelson's brain, and he was about to brain both of them for being so disgusting when a voice spoke from the doorway,
"The youth will sit up there, my lord"
Nelson looked, and indeed there was a sort of seat, up, high above the room
"He will keep the air cool for you, sir"

Nelson allowed his previous suspicions to wash away, and nodded at the older Indian to go ahead. He turned towards the newcomer,
"Thank you. To whom do I owe ?"
"Charles Craven, Baronet" the man smiled, "First Lieutenant, the Calcutta Rifles"
"Thank you, Lieutenant" Nelson smiled, "What can I do for you ?"
"Its about the French, sir" he said


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
"Its worse than that" Grand Duke Aleksandr told his brother, the Tsar, "whilst the Egyptians perhaps only gained thirty percent through this treachery, we retain at best that percentage"
"The rest was lost ?" Tsar Nikolai II was finding it difficult to maintain his composure
"Sunk or so badly damaged that nobody will repair it this side of the decade year"
"And has Cairo moved ?"

Another man stepped forward to answer the Tsar of All the Russians, Emperor of Russia and Constantinople,
"No", said Marshal Dmitri Novikoff, "Indeed, the Caliph and Emperor is treating it all as a boon which has fallen into his hands"
"His thieving Muslim hands !" yelled the sixty-three year-old Tsar
"As you will, sire"

"One hates to bring this up", Valentin Gorshkov sounded as slimey a character as he looked, "but the Egyptians would never have gained any decided advantage from this act"
The tsar stared at the newly-appointed head of the Okhrana, successor to the late unlamented Blind Prince Mishkin
"What ?!" he snapped
"Yes, sire", Gorshkov smoozed, "At best any warships that Egypt did acquire would have been the equal to their second raters..."
"You dare say we are inferior to the Muslims ?!"
"Yes"

There was silence, broken eventually by Grand Duke Aleksandr
"Perhaps you would explain ?" he ventured
Gorshkoff inclined his head,
"For years the fleet has been starved of money - I have investigated the, ah, claims and can see that they are true. The Egyptians on the other hand have always retained a strong and modern navy. Our best designs are...well, it would not be too much to say they were a poor attempt at an ideal that the Egyptians met much better."
"I want to see all relevant papers on my desk by nightfall !" the Tsar yelled
"Of course, sire" Gorshkov had the confidence of a man who knew that he was right, "Even if Cairo ends up with forty percent of the fleet, they will not bother to man more than a third of that"
"Because...it is so poor quality ?" the Tsar asked in a hushed tone
"Exactly !" beamed Gorshkov, brightly


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
"Flinders !"
Arnold sighed and buttoned his fly, shooing the eager temple girl away; what a waste ! He headed out, and nodded innocently
"Yes sir ?"
"Have you found us lodgings yet, man ?!" demanded the other
"I was just on it, sir"

An hour later they had stabled the horses, and dumped their meagre possessions in their rooms. Sitting in the false cool of a tavern, they sipped Indian Ale and waited for their contacts to emerge
"What do you suppose they will look like, sir ?" asked Flinders, bored out of his mind, and keen to go looking for the girl again
"How the Devil should I know !" bellowed his moustachioed superior, "Two heads and a tail, maybe ?"
"I think not, sir" Flinders said

It was a long and boring night, and got cold soon enough as the sun went down. Eventually a man came on an ass, and made his way into the tavern. He bought a bottle of something indeterminate and came to sit with the two Britons
"You will not mind if I sit here" he said, with a slight accent
"Please sir" Flinders waved the man into the chair
His superior stared at him

Painful small talk went on for three quarters of an hour, before the seemingly inebriated visitor slid across a card
"Tomorrow, Midday sharp" he whispered
With that he rose, belched and farted, then swayed his way across the room
"Delhi certainly is a strange place" Flinders' superior observerd
"Yes sir" said Flinders, dutifully


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
1906

A rain of fire poured down upon the city, as if to blast it all away and make space for a phoenix to rise from out of the ashes. From North and East the Fredonian landward artillery kept up their constant barrage, from the skies the Barton heavy airships nightly dropped their loads of death, and from the West, the heavy units of the Fredonian Navy sent salvo after salvo in upon the American defenders

Only from the South did any succour come, the railroads having been rerouted after being cut on the Eastern approaches, and huge, rail-mounted guns now firing back upon the Fredonian attackers from specially banked sidings. But newly-promoted General Pershing doubted that it was enough.

As he toured the positions, his aides glanced nervously into the shadows. Infiltrators had already mounted one assassination attempt, a scratched arm the sole result, and a boosted ego, for did it not indicate how highly the enemy thought of him ?
"Incoming, sir"
They threw themselves into the trench as a salvo of 10" shells sailed in from the seas, the Fredonian armoured cruisers making the most of the clear weather to attempt to take out the rail guns. This time their salvos overshot, but unless something was done to disrupt their aim they would get lucky again, taking out one of the massive railcars as they had two days previously.

Pershing dusted himself down and looked at the smoke and dust rising about them
"When are the new aeroplanes that Washington promised us going to arrive ?" he asked
"Yesterday, sir" his aide shrugged, "Or that was what the telegraph said this morning"
"I would hazard it was wrong" Pershing indicated
"Yes sir, as usual."
"You have no idea, then ?"
The aide shrugged,
"The telegraph was less informative even than usual. It did not state where they were..."
"So they could still be back in Tejas ?"
"Probably, sir"

Pershing growled and climbed out of the trench,
"If the United States loses here, it loses everywhere !" he snapped, "Maybe we need to remind Washington of that !"
"Again sir"
"Again !", Pershing nodded, "Tell them again"
"Yes sir"


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
The Prussian guard moved slowly through the Mughal capital, goose-stepping to the tune of the band that strode ahead of them. Dressed in their light blue finery, the Prussians were a long way from home, but somehow seemed to fit right into the multinational chaos that was Delhi

Arnold Flinders stood in the shadow of the Majestic Hotel and watched. It was quite a magnificent scene, but one which again seemed to be decided to underline Britain's relative weakness on the sub-continent. The Franco-Prussian alliance was forging ahead with its bilateral policy in international affairs, and the new arrangement with the Mughal Empire was the first major success of this policy.

"A penny for them", a voice appeared at his ear
"They are worth a shilling at least" Flinders whispered back
"Half a crown ?"
They compromised and headed back into the hotel, towards the ornate bar. Delhi might be the centre of a Muslim empire, but that did not mean that the Infidels amongst them could not enjoy a drink.
"Ale" he told his friend
"Two ales" the other ordered across the polished marble

When they were sat in the cool shadows of the corner, Flinders took a long cool draught and regarded the other man. A Briton, too, one of the many ex-patriot engineers and inventors who had had to go abroad to find employment for their talents. That he had ended up in the Mughal Empire was surprising, but then perhaps not so much as seeing a detachment of the Prussian Guard marching down the street !
"The Alliance will not interfere with your work ?" he asked
Beedle shook his head,
"Paris is keeping a tight rein on its airship technology, I don't see Julliot-Labaudy being given permission to develop factories out here."

Flinders lit a cigar and regarded the other man, noting with amusement the cut-off tweeds that set him aside as a Briton, albeit one making compromises to the climate.
"Santos-Dumont ?" he asked carefully
That half-French company had made inroads into the North American market, opening factories in Mexico, Fredonia and Columbia, even if its light-weight airships were reportedly meeting with some difficulties in the actual theatre of war itself in South California.
"Old Spanish connections", Beedle shrugged, "There are not many Spanish in Delhi"

That was for sure. The capital city of the Mughal Empire was about as cosmopolitan as anywhere on Earth, with half a dozen European nations vying for attention, and an equal number from the Americas, but neither the Republic of Spain nor its South American dominions was to be counted amongst them.
You would meet a Frenchman, an Austrian, a German or a Prussian, and certainly a Russian or a Briton every day, you would run into Americans from the USA, New Englanders with their commercial enterprises, Fredonians who seemed to get everywhere, even the occasional Mexican, Columbian or Oregonese, but you would fain see a Spaniard.

"Your contracts are secure, then ?" Flinders concluded.
"Some Prussian firms made a half-hearted bid upon the signing of the new Accord, but it was obvious to the imperial court that their expertise in now wise approaches mine."
"Keep it that way" advised Flinders.
He looked up at the jewel-encrusted clock behind the bar and sighed,
"Duty calls I am afraid"
"It is always a pleasure" Beedle told him as the other man took his leave

Across the room, a single woman looked up from the Edmund Dickens novel she was reading and watched the Briton depart. She made a small note on a hidden pad of paper with her left hand, then cast her eyes back into the murky world of mid-century London


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
They met in closed session, the doors of the club locked and bolted behind them. William A Taft was the first to speak, the senior Senator from the rump state of Ohio, and one of the leading men in the US Congress now that the old guard were dying off.
"President Semmes is leading us to disaster" he said, his huge body magnifying his voice as he urged action upon them, "These United States need a doctor for the body politic"
"You would have us revert to those times ?" asked a weedy looking man with a high pitched voice
"Yes"

Stephen W Wilson, the tall, lanky Governor of Virginia ignored the smaller man and addressed his comments across his head to Taft,
"The niggers are restless, Senator. If we give them an excuse they will rise up this time for sure"
"Fucking slave owner" muttered one of the military men in the background
Wilson rounded on him,
"President Calhoun himself said that the growth of the republic was tied inexorably to the spread of slavery"
"It does NOT make him right!" the general protested

"The Governor has a point, though" Jesus Maria Gonzalez was Governor of the State of Monterrey and a man well-versed in dealing with rebellions, although hopefully the latest influx of settlers had now cured his state of the direct effects of this disease.
"From a man whose state outlawed slavery ?" the general looked at the Tejan with distaste
"Just because he is evil, does not make a man wrong"
Gonzalez was probably quoting something but Wilson did not like the tone of it. He was on his feet, his spectacles in his hand, gesticulating wildly from general to tejan,
"I would thank you to keep a civil tongue in your heads !" he shouted

"Gentlemen", Taft's voice boomed across them, "Slavery is a secondary issue at best, and with all respect Governor", this to Wilson, "a slave rebellion we can deal with. The collapse of the South-West we cannot"
Wilson swayed a moment, then sat down, hardly mollified but once again willing to listen.
"General Parker ?" Taft nodded to another of the military men, until now seated in the background
Parker rose, his bushy hair barely under control, his beard though tight and clipped for the occasion,
"General Pershing's position is tenuous at best" he began, "We have no naval resources to send him, and what aeroplanes we are hastily developing to combat these new heavy airships are proving...problematic"

"Is that code for their not working as designed ?" asked the weedy man in his high-pitched voice
"They have a habit of falling out of the sky" General Parker snapped back
"Unfortunate..."
"They also fall apart under stress"
"Not exactly the news that General Pershing is looking to hear, I think"
"Hardly that" agreed the general

He looked across to Senator Taft and received the nod
"Please go on"
"Yes sir", Parker was an Ohio man, and the leading senator of his state deserved the respect due to a senior officer in his eyes, especially in these circumstances, "Railroad links to San Diego are also proving...problematic"
"That word again" noted the weedy man
"I trust they are not falling apart under stress ?" asked Governor Wilson
"Unless someone is helping them to fall apart" the weedy man shot back

"That they are" interjected Governor Gonzalez, "Sonora especially has seen a marked rise in Mexican insurgent activity"
"We should bombard Vera Cruz" growled a grizzled veteran from the back, "Teach the damned dagos some manners"
"Unfortunately, the fleet that we have left is somewhat short of parity with the Mexican navy" Gonzalez replied
"Somewhat short of parity ?" the weedy man was keen on picking out verbal obfuscation, "I am assuming that means weaker than ?"
"It is so" interjected Taft, ending the matter, "General Parker, what can be done to aid General Pershing's position ?"

Parker looked across at the senator, then down at his notes, apparently at a loss,
"I apologise, sir." he said after the pause had dragged on, "I can tell you what the problems are. Solutions are another matter"
"Governor Gonzalez, you have some insight ?"
Jesus Maria Gonzalez picked at a split finger nail, and shook his head,
"We cannot abandon North Tejas or the Fredonians will sweep down on us from Santa Fe. But additional forces need to be found - only a general draught will acquire those for us"
"For God's sake !" protested the weedy man, "If the niggers don't rise up, a general draught is a sure way to make certain that the cities do !"

"Unfortunately that is so" agreed Senator Taft, "As always the solution to one problem would make things worse somewhere else"
"We cannot abandon General Pershing" protested the grizzled veteran at the back
"What this country needs is leadership" Taft said, his voice lower than usual, making people strain to hear him, making them want to hear him, "President Semmes is singularly failing to provide that... The old solution is the best solution"
"But who ?" protested the weedy man, "I do not see our saviour in this room here !"
"Pershing ?" suggested Gonzalez, suddenly seeing the way that the Senator's thoughts were headed
"If we can extract him..." Wilson wondered aloud
"We must try, for the good of the republic..."


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Jules Juchme was not a happy man. The Paris Air Show was traditionally a playground for the Julliot-Labaudy airship company, their only close rivals being the occasional Santos-Dumont vessel, or perhaps a derivative Zepellin or Barton that had been allowed in under the rules requiring at least some[/] foreign competition to act as a check on the international quality of the home-produced vessels

The 1906 Air Show should have been the best-yet. Julliot-Labaudy was about to launch its new long-distance helium-powered vessel, and he, Jules Juchme, was to demonstrate its worth to the tens of thousands who came anually to this venue. Amongst the guests even was the new Prussian Foreign Minister, the recently-elevated Furst Bismarck who had done so much to bring about the alliance between the French Republic and the Kingdom of Prussia. Prospective orders from their ally ought to be all but in the bag, but there was an interloper at the festivities

For almost fifteen years the Cayley aeroplane had been the standard design in rigid powered flight, and its limitations when faced against a well-built airship had been well proven in the skies above San Diego. Julliot-Labaudy had made great play of that, not least because of the embarassment to Santos-Dumont when its weaker smaller airships had met a harsh fate at the hands of the US aeroplanes. The powerful Barton vessels which had taken their place had been similar in size to the new ranges that Juliot-Labaudy was bringing into service, and this similarity ought to have been good for sales. The Cayley aeroplanes were clearly no match for such airships, and rumours from the Tejas factories spoke of attempts to upgrade the aeroplane having nothing but disastrous results

Grimly ironic, therefore, that it was France herself which was now throwing a spanner into the works. The brothers Voisin stood upon the field, their new-fangled aeroplane similar in looks to the Cayley, but radically different in design when one got down to the specifics. Its first flight earlier that day had already proven a sensation, the manoevrability and control available to the pilot being a shock to many a seasoned observer. Even now, as Juchme waited his turn to put the massive helium-powered airship Carnot through its paces, observers were already looking ahead to the act that was to follow. Three Voisin aeroplanes were to take to the skies at once, and demonstrate their ability to fly in formation. Tongues were already wagging from the previous demonstration, and multiple thousands of Francs were already on the verge of being pledged.

"Ready, Captain" the radio operator reported his interpretation of the squawks and beeps that reached his ear
Juchme shook himself out of his gloom-filled reverie. At least the aeroplane was a short-range instrument, even these new Voisin machines. The airship would always remain dominant in the longer-range market.
"Stand by !" he commanded


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
1906

The United Republican Party was anything but what its named suggested. The time was come for the nominations for the party's candidate in the presidential election of the coming November, but with military defeat on the one hand, and economic recession on the other, the ruling URP did not seem to have a hope in Hell of getting anyone elected, not least Raphael Semmes II.

The President of the United States looked about the lobby of the hotel here in Chicago and sighed inwardly. This was a part of politics he could well do without, the meetings with state delegations, and the deals done to secure their support for his candidacy. Did not people realise that he had a war to win ?

His five-year term had started out so gloriously, but was soon headed into the abyss, but Semmes was a believer in the long-term and constantly chided his advisors to look at the bigger picture. Twelve ironclad battleships were building in Eastern and Southern ports, numerous cruisers and avisos almost ready for commissioning, the new New Navy would soon be a power upon the seas, and then the world would see just how feeble the enemies of the United States really were !

True, the Tejas aeroplane trials were proving an unmitigated disaster, and he had authorised his agents in Frankfurt to buy up every airship design that the Zepellin Works was putting on the market. Federal money would provide a series of factories, Georgia had already backed the project and would get the tender. If the aeroplane could not do what it was supposed to, then the US would have to develop the airship. Either way, the humiliations in the skies above San Diego had to end.

Semmes repressed a twinge of anxiety. General Pershing was doing a sterling job in keeping the defence going, but increasing difficulties with the railroads were now beginning to seriously affect his logistical situation. Mexican rebel activity across Sonora and Chihuahua Territories was not enough to break out into an outright rebellion, but attacks on the railroads were proving difficult enough to deal with. At least Mexico City realised that they were too weak to intervene successfully, and the USA would be spared yet another direct conflict with their Southern neighbour. Semmes did not doubt that Mexico was providing some aid and some financial support to US-based Mexican rebels, but it was a thorn that could be borne, at least as long as San Diego held out

Were the city to fall... Semmes felt a shiver run down his spine. That could not be allowed ! Such a loss would destroy his re-election chances for sure, and would set back all his plans to rebuild the Pacific Fleet. As it was, only a handful of gunboats and avisos remained at Guaymas in Southern Sonora, and that port city had not the facility to construct anything larger than a scout cruiser. He knew that three such vessels were under construction there, but at best they could control the Gulf of California, and then only if Fredonia chose not to challenge it.

No, the rebuilding would not be coming out of Guaymas. But that was not the only choice ! How hard he had to work to make his aides understand this simple fact ! The Chinese Empire was bogged down in its conquest of Japan, whilst of his other potential adversaries, Russia was in absolute chaos by all reports. The Franco-Prussian Alliance was a worry, but clearly aimed at Frankfurt rather than directly against the United States. True, Sweden had abrogated the alliance so carefully won, but when faced with the possibility of a parliamentary coup old King Gustav had backed down before it.

Semmes sighed; even to him the truth was unpalatable. The USA's only active enemies were the West coast republics, but somehow they were currently besting them. No doubt Russian money had a role somewhere, but it was Fredonia which amazed and scared him. But if everything came down simply to Fredonia versus the United States of America, then in the long run surely Washington would win ? It was the long run that provided his plans for the resurrection of the Pacific Fleet, purchases from friendly nations and a new Trans-World Fleet already well-advanced in the planning. But it would be late this year at best, next year probably before this could be realised - and he needed to be re-elected first, that was of paramount importance

Thus he stepped forward now, and shook the hands of people he despised, and allowed himself to be led into smoke-filled rooms to listen to the bargaining positions of URP activists who asked only the best for their states, and he made promises, and spoke words, and dragged himself deeper through the mud to gain their support


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Nelson and Craven walked along the dockside of Calcutta, each deep in thought. Occasionally they would utter a few words that the other would reply to in a desultory fashion, but as yet neither man dared speak the entirety of his thoughts.

James, 3rd Earl Nelson looked out at the ships in the harbour and wondered where was Britain in the global scheme of things. The dark days of SDF rule seemed far behind now, a fusion of Conservative-Reformist governments on the one hand, and Whig-Liberal administrations filling in the gaps upon the other, had managed to keep the dwindling hard core of Social Democrats out of government. The British body politic seemed to have recovered some of its poise, allowing the enfranchised masses to move away from purely sectional voting and look at things in the greater round. But not all of its woes had been cured

The dominions were largely self-governing now - Canada, Columbia, Oceania and the United Caribbean. London seldom bothered to intervene even where constitutional rights remained active, and where potential opportunities arose. For all intents and purposes the four dominions were independent allies, bound close by history and common interest, but going their own way within the world. No, the writ of empire was reserved for the smaller colonies - for the West African interests, for the Pacific islands, and for Calcutta, last vestige of empire upon the sub-continent

It was in this spirit that Nelson looked out at the many flags flying from the mastheads. True, there were substantial Red Ensigns, British merchant ships of all the major lines, but also there were the proud banners of the Bonapartes and Vanderbilts of New England, of the Hamburg-Lloyd line of the German Empire, of various smaller French, Batavian and Fredonian merchant houses. If Delhi was the cosmopolitan city of the world, then Calcutta was its equivalent upon the coast. Many of the goods brought here would be shipped up-river, or upon the railroads deep into the interior, headed either for the Mughal Empire or even further North to the Sikh Empire with its borders up against the Russians

"I think I have it", Charles Craven said slowly, and his words at last brought Nelson to a halt
"Yes ?" he asked
"It is the French, sir" the young baronet's eyes gleamed darkly, "I was right before"
"What about the French ?" Nelson asked with a sense of foreboding
"The intercepts only make sense if it is Paris"
"Go on" the other urged
"What was bothering me was how they were going to do it..."
"Of course..."
"But the Prussians have just been appointed instructors to the Mughal army"
"Prussians... You cannot mean ?"
"Dreyfuss is nobody's fool", Craven said, "least of all Bismarck's"
"But how ?"
"I think I have it", he looked around them, and saw a likely-looking tavern, "Come, I will show you"
They headed swiftly towards the establishment


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Edward House looked around the room and smiled. It had all gone his way, as the East Tejas governor thought that it would. The National Democrats were so desperate to find a candidate behind whom they could unite and fight the incumbent Semmes, that they had jumped at the first major politician to pitch his hat into the ring. Many were less than enthusiastic about him as a person, and would have preferred either Senator Taft of Ohio or Governor Wilson of Virginia, but both leading lights of the Party had refused even to consider standing

To House's point of view that was all to the good. He could surely reward both men when he was elected in November, now only a couple of months away. But it would be he who sat in the old White House, he who made the decisions, he whom history would remember. Yes, he was very happy with himself

Jesus Maria Gonzalez left the room after a decent interval, not wanting to seem to be in a hurry with what he was about. he had little time, and even less regard, for the man from Campeche, but appearances were everything in what he was about. As the rest of the National Democrats spilled across the lobby of the New Orleans hotel, he made his way slowly, and with a false smile afixed to his lips, to the telephone booth.

It seemed to take an age to connect him to Cincinatti, the operator apparently having failed basic geography at high school, and appearing amazed that anyone in Tejas would want to talk to someone in the Old North-West, least of all someone with the illustrious name of Taft
"Yes ?" came the answer, distant upon the wind
"Get me the boss" Gonzalez told the butler
Senator Taft never answered the telephone himself. After some moments in which he wondered whether the dimwitted operator had disconnected him, the Ohio senator's deep voice boomed back at him,
"Is it done ?"
"Yes sir", Gonzalez had only grown in his respect for the architect of their plan
"Excellent. House is a typical second rater. He's just what we need"
"Yes sir"

The connection went dead


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
Anna E Roosevelt set down the novel upon the small wooden table and wondered. Daughter of the Confederate senior senator from New York, and niece of the historian Theodore Roosevelt, she came from an illustrious line, her grandfather having been a leading light in the New England Confederacy's early history. Although only twenty-two she was already well-travelled before her posting here, to Delhi. Foregoing the expected university career she had signed on with one of the lesser-known New York newspapers and travelled South and Central America before she was twenty. It was upon her return to the NEC that she had been approached, and of course she had accepted at once !

Her initial mission had been simplicity itself, a test mainly of character and the ability to operate far away from American shores, paying a visit to various dissident factions within the Spanish dominion of Manila, and assuring them of New England support. Nothing had come of it, yet at least, it had been a courier mission only but she knew she had passed with flying colours when the Vanderbilt Line steamship Cornelius had put into Manila, her captain bearing a personal letter from the Director himself ordering her to head for Delhi.

She had taken easily to the dissolute role of woman traveller, heading down a road well-travelled if largely unmentioned in the popular press. Always have a novel to hand, always be writing copious notes about the places one visited. A perfect cover, and of course the misogynous Europeans never even suspected her, indeed hardly even noticed her as anything other than a pretty decoration to whichever upmarket hotel bar they might be in.

At first she had thought that the various meetings that the Briton, Flinders, was having were important, but of recent she had begun to realise that Flinders, for all his appalling sexual tastes, was a hunter, like herself, and not in possession of what she needed. She had turned her attention to the Prussians; they had been insufferable, arrogant and noisy, but also ignorant. In time she had sought out the French, their diplomats in Delhi being quiet and refined for all their influence at the Mughal court. She had come to realise that this covered a multitude of sins, and that whatever she was seeking was somewhere within their Gallic brains. It would take some getting out, though, of that she was certain...


Best Regards
Grey Wolf
 
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