The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 43

This was due, in part, to the caution exercised by Lord Kiyo Min-Orota.

His estimation of Cadillac's potential had not changed in the slightest, but he knew that developments at the Heron Pool were being closely monitored by the Herald, Hase-Gawa. From the reported use made of such craft by the long-dogs it was clear that just a few regiments of flying-horses could dramatically alter the present balance of power - a possibility that could not have escaped the attention of the Shogun.

The Sons of Ne-Issan did not yet possess the rapid-fire guns and explosive devices that made the flying-horse such a deadly weapon, but that day would come.

Meanwhile, their speed meant that a strong force of samurai could rapidly reach any part of the country regardless of the intervening terrain. They would, literally, drop out of the sky like swooping falcons. The ability to execute such manoeuvres would demand a complete revision of military tactics.

Lord Kiyo Min-Orota was aware of the delicate line he had to tread.

The task of building these craft had been given to his family because they were regarded as fudai trusted allies of the Shogunate. But success had its dangers. If the Heron Pool expanded too rapidly and its importance was inflated by loose talk and wild speculation, it might cause the young Shogun to think twice, and perhaps withdraw the licence in favour of his own family - a situation to be avoided at all costs. If the Toh-Yota became the sole possessors of such a weapon they would use it to hold their opponents in check, thus ending all hopes for a new age of progress.

As a key partic.i.p.ant in the 'modernist' conspiracy, Min-Orota had therefore been at pains to create the impression that, whilst he was prepared to back the flying-horse project, it did not have his unqualified support. To this end he had slowed down the pace of development by tr.i.m.m.i.n.g back Cadillac's constant requests for more manpower and resources, and he had let it be known in court circles that even if a craft capable of sustained powered flight was eventually constructed, he feared that, in the long term, its impact on Iron Master society would be more adverse than beneficial.

All lies, of course, but it bore the appearance of a face-saving exercise whilst expressing his support for traditional values. And it also provided him with an escape hatch if Yama-s.h.i.ta's plan to recapture the Dark Light backfired - an enterprise which certainly did not have his wholehearted support.

Translated into Basic, the message he was beaming towards the Shogun read thus: 'I'm only going along with this because you guys twisted my arm."

It was a neat ploy. The whole deal had, of course, been put together on the back-stairs by Yama-s.h.i.ta, but the records would show Kiyo Min-Orota hadn't pitched for the business. It was Ieyasu, the wily old Court Chamberlain, who had advised the Shogun to grant the manufacturing licence to the Min-Orota family without going through the usual process of soliciting the highest bid from other interested parties. All that remained now was to find some way, short of death, to prevent Nakane Toh-Shiba, the Consul-General, from s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g things up - both literally and figuratively - and everything would fall into their hands.

Jodi caught up with Simons as he pa.s.sed through an archway in the back wall of the compound, opposite the main gate. There were more buildings beyond. Simons paused expectantly.

'Listen,' said Jodi. 'Before this goes any further I just want to say that Dave is okay - y'know what I mean? I know things got a little out of hand back there, but the truth is, uhh . . . neither of us expected to run into Brickman again so soon." Jodi shook her head in wonderment. 'I don't know how the guy does it, but he certainly gets around." She fell into step beside Simons.

'Are you sure his name's Steve Brickman?"

'That's what he calls himself. I can't see why he would want to lie about something like that, but what difference does it make? He's giving the orders and he seems to know what he's doing. It's only you guys who seem to have a problem."

Simons led her down an alleyway between two long single-storey structures. The facing walls had matching sets of sliding doors at regular intervals and they were all wide open, giving Jodi a clear view of their interiors. They were both large, airy workshops. The one on the left contained stacks of sawn timber and rows of benches for making sub-components; the one to her right contained several trestle jigs on which ribs and spars were a.s.sembled into wings, while on the others, formers and stringers were turned into fuselages.

Running down the centre was a primitive production line on which the various pieces were mated together. In all, Jodi counted a dozen airplanes at various stages of completion. Several Trackers in blue outfits were putting tools back into racks and tidying up workbenches; others were sweeping the floor. The job looked as though it demanded skill and intelligence, the whole environment looked clean and healthy and, above all, the atmosphere appeared relaxed - with not a white-stripe or a whipping-cane in sight. Jodi could understand why Simons and his co-workers didn't want anyone spoiling things.

But there was something that didn't add up. Simons had been drafted to the Heron Pool in March and had implied that Brickman had already set up the operation.

But she and Kelso had first run into Brickman when still part of Malone's renegade band back in the early part of April, and they had last seen him at the end of May, hob-n.o.bbing with their Mute captors at the trading post.

Jodi was not sure of the exact dates; her standard-issue calendar watch had been ripped from her wrist when she was washed downstream in the tangled wreckage of her Skyhawk. But a day or two either way didn't matter, the questions remained: if Brickman was in Plainfolk territory during April and May, what in Columbus's name was he doing there when he was supposed to be running the Heron Pool - and how the eff-eff had he gotten back here so fast?

Before she could ask Simons, her attention was drawn to a swept-wing glider taking off from the big field beyond the workshops. Another, of the same type, was being pushed towards them aboard a wheeled trolley.

The craft now airborne rose steeply on a line attached under the nose.

The other end ran down to a lump of machinery on the far right-hand corner of the field.

A faint tuff. tuff-tuff reached Jodi's ears.

'Steam-driven winch,' said Simons.

Jodi watched the ascent with interest. She was conversant with the principles of thermals and soaring flight of which Skyhawks were designed to take advantage, but purpose-built gliders didn't exist in the Federation. You learned to fly with the aid of a propeller and battery-power from Day One.

When the glider was about a thousand feet up, the pilot released the cable. The falling end was marked by a fluttering blue pennant. The glider banked gently to the right, nosed down to gather speed, then went up into a stall turn. It stood on its tail for a brief moment, then cartwheeled over its port wingtip into another dive and swept back over their heads towards the perimeter of the field.

'Neat,' said Jodi. 'But why gliders?"

'The d.i.n.ks don't have electricity,' replied Simons.

'They didn't have airplanes before you guys started building them. How come n.o.body's told them what they're missing?"

'No need to. The d.i.n.ks have known about it from way back. They call it the Dark Light and, as far as they're concerned, it's bad news.

According to Brickman, Iron Masters are forbidden by law to mess around with any kind of electrical equipment. On top of which, the subject is absolutely taboo." He shrugged. 'I know. It sounds crazy, but there it is."

Jodi looked up at the glider. 'May be a good thing in the long run.

These things aren't going to be much of a threat to anybody."

'Don't be too sure. Brickman's working on the power problem. He's developing a lightweight steam engine."

'Steam engine . . . ?" The idea made Jodi laugh.

'Don't knock it. We're running bench tests right now.

Just having problems developing enough power."

'What are you using for fuel?"

'Oil. But we're trying to find something that burns faster and generates more heat."

Jodi sniffed dismissively. 'It'll never get off the ground."

'It hasn't so far,' admitted Simons. 'But we're working on it."

The six Trackers wheeling the grounded glider back to the right-hand workshop pa.s.sed by close to where they were standing. While Simons asked them how the test flight had gone, Jodi cast a professional eye over their handiwork.

The silk-covered wings were not swept back as far as the Skyhawk's and were of rigid construction instead of being inflated to the correct shape by helium gas. The slim fuselage pod, lacking the rear-mounted engine and pusher-prop of the original, was attached directly to the underside of the wing, with the c.o.c.kpit just ahead of the leading edge.

The Skyhawk was a pure-delta wing design, with no tailplane or rudder; Brickman's craft had a boom running back from the centre section with a cruciform tail a.s.sembly mounted on the end. That was not the only departure from the original; on the Skyhawk, banking to left and right was affected by means of control wires that warped the outer trailing edge of the wings. On Brickman's glider, there were inset panels that pivoted up and down: ailerons - as used on the two-seat Skyrider and the Mark-2 Skyhawk.

But Jodi didn't know about those yet. The Skyrider was used exclusively by AMEXICO, whose existence was a closely guarded secret, and she'd been lost overboard, presumed killed before the Mark-2 had been issued to Big Red One - the Red River wagon-train, flagship of the Amtrak Federation overground forces.

There was one other obvious difference - the tricycle undercart had been replaced by a central wooden skid.

Two small runners had been fitted at an angle on either side to prevent the glider from angling over and snagging its wingtips on landing. But it didn't eliminate the problem. A rookie pilot could still rip those beautifully crafted wings apart every time he made an iffy landing.

'No undercarriage,' said Jodi, as Simons returned.

'No. The d.i.n.ks don't have any rubber to make the tyres with. And without electricity there's no chance of making aluminium, or any other of the lightweight alloys. We have to make do with iron, steel, copper and bra.s.s. For take-offs we use a launching trolley. It's kinda primitive - like lots of things around here - but it works."