The Heirs of Babylon Read Online Free PDF

adventure
    at all, once begun. But turning back could not be. No one
    dared risk the wrath of the High Command, for High
    Command was a jealous god, believed capable of any-
    thing—including the destruction of an uncooperative
    member state.

    Kurt could see, in the battle-light-reddened faces of the
    watch, dread of High Command replacing patriotism and
    adventure as the forces behind Jager's sailing. He won-
    dered if the mood was similar aboard all ships bound for
    the Gathering. Would they go just for fear's sake? Or
    because they felt there was some purpose in the War?

    He wanted to talk to someone, to discover others'
    feelings, yet, as he looked around at men who were his
    closest friends, he realized they would not share. Time and circumstance had rendered null their closeness. He seized
    a cable overhead as the deck sank away, then rose shiver-
    ing beneath him, listened to the sighs of the wind, to the
    crump of the seas hitting the bow—all the sounds of
    loneliness on a gray and forgotten sea.

    He wondered if this unhappy small sample of the crew
    were truly representative of the ship's mood. His thoughts
    wandered to the engine rooms, the ammunition ready
    rooms. Combat Information Center. Would disappoint-
    ment also haunt those places when men learned Jager
    was going on? What of the officers? The Captain? Haber?

    Why was Jdger sailing? Because of the High Com-
    mand, that shadow organization at Gibraltar? No one
    really knew, except, perhaps, Beck, who had come from
    Gibraltar with platitudes, slogans, sentences with no mean-
    ing. Kill the enemy. Destroy. Why? According to Beck, to
    end the rampant savagery of the East, to drive a shaft of
    liberty's light into the slaveholder's darkness of Australia.

    Kurt reviewed the old catchwords, epithets, and emo-
    tion-laden arguments, and found no solace. Who cared?
    Who had ever seen an Australian, or been hurt by one?
    How could he hate someone he had never seen?

    He drifted back to his tenth summer, the day his father
    had sailed to the War. Years of slow, difficult work with
    makeshift tools, and a hundred men, had been invested in
    £7-793—and she had sailed out of history as finally as if
    she had never been. Her story, for the people of the

28
    Littoral, had ended the moment she crossed the horizon.
    Why?

    Another year, another ship. Was Jager's story already
    done? Was she a metal coffin staggering off in search of a
    watery graveyard?

    Gregor put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, startling him.
    "Got a posit?"

    "Just an estimated." He tapped the chart at Jager's approximate position.

    Gregor nodded. "Come left to two seven zero," he
    ordered.

    After logging the course change, Kurt went to Hans
    and whispered, "You ought to change helmsmen once in a while." He nodded toward Otto. "Must be a job trying to balance the screw."

    Hans grunted agreement, directed a man to spell Kapp.

    "Kurt?"

    "Sir?" He returned to the chart table. Gregor was examining the northern coast of Denmark.

    "Do you remember any shoals along here?"

    Kurt shuffled through his notes. There was little to be
    found or remembered. He shrugged. "None to bother us,
    that I know of. You?" When Gregor shook his head, Kurt continued, "You could send a lookout to the masthead."

    "Right. Boatswain!"

    Kurt was at the psychrometer, working on a weather
    report, when Wiedermann returned. He grew aware of
    Hans's presence as he closed the little wooden box.
    "What?"

    "Kurt ... uh, would you forget last night? I mean ...
    well, I guess I wasn't thinking right."

    Kurt studied him closely. Hans shuffled nervously, eyes
    fixed on the deck. This was out of character. Although
    small, thin, and physically weak, Hans had always been
    aggressive. For reasons Kurt did not understand, Hans
    was forever trying to better him. They had come to blows
    several times, especially courting Karen. But there had
    always been an unspoken agreement. No outsiders in their
    conflicts. Neither had run to parents