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  "Cromwell attack Roum, you should say," O'Donald said coldly.

  "Well, at least we know what happened to him," Emil said evenly.

  "Yeah, and I wish to hell he had simply drowned," O'Donald retorted angrily.

  "I suspect that there is a lot more to this than meets the eye," Kal said, finally stirring himself. "The Tugars came two years early on their march. They should in fact be arriving this fall, the same time that the Merki horde would arrive in Cartha. I suspect that there is a relationship between this attack and the Merki."

  "In what way?" Andrew asked.

  "I don't know yet," Kal said, extending his one hand in a gesture of confusion. "Undoubtedly they have heard by now what we have accomplished, and perhaps they are concerned."

  "We are over seven hundred miles north of Cartha," Emil said, as if trying to reassure himself. "What concern should we be to them?"

  "If a fox killed the hens in the next farm, maybe you would consider getting a club," Kal replied.

  "So you believe there is a link here," Andrew said.

  "I suspect it. Nothing more yet."

  "Well, he would have needed a hell of a big works to convert the Ogunquit," John Mina stated, "if that ironclad is indeed the Ogunquit. And to cast heavy cannons—that takes a lot of skill and the factory to do it. He's made an arrangement with the Cartha, that's for certain. It's the only way that ship could have been turned out."

  "Remember we did trade some guns and a field piece to them a couple of years back," Emil said. "It must have made them awful greedy for more."

  "Could it be that the Carthas are preparing to fight the Merki?" Casmar asked hopefully.

  "If they were, why waste their strength attacking Roum?" Kal replied. "None of our ambassadors to them has ever returned—we gave it up a year ago. If they wanted technical assistance we would have provided it."

  "Then one possible assumption is that Cartha is attacking with the full knowledge of the Merki," Andrew said quietly.

  "You mean that bastard Cromwell has thrown in with them heathens?" O'Donald snapped, his voice brimming with contempt.

  "Their Namer of Time would have been there last fall," Kal said. "The Merki know what was happening."

  "Then he might be supplying them as well," Andrew whispered, suddenly feeling sick with the thought. God, could it all be starting again? he wondered.

  "We know so damn little," Andrew whispered, and he inwardly cursed himself for this lack of attention. Except for the fortification line to the southwest and the slow beginning of a rail line down to it, all their effort had been focused eastward, with the assumption that if the Merki were a threat, it would be next year at the earliest. Another year would give them an army with sixty thousand rifled percussion muskets and over four hundred field pieces, many of them the new and heavier bronze twelve-pounders. And more important, there would be the potential of Roum manpower to fill the ranks, along with the precious resources under their control. The thought of the Merki now having similar weapons was something he had never seriously entertained.

  "Our last report from the forward scouting parties was that the Merki horde was still moving straight east, well over a thousand miles away along the shore of the inland seas," Hans said.

  "How old is that report?"

  "A week old."

  At least they were finally getting copper from the Roum to start telegraph-wire production again. They had scraped the bottom just to string the line to Roum. He could see the next step would be an immediate running of line down to the watch posts on the southwestern frontier.

  "And weapons?"

  "Typical horde equipment, nothing out of the ordinary."

  "This is curious," Andrew said, trying to relax, to focus his attention on what had to be done.

  "The horde is still moving on its regular path and should be in Cartha sometime around midwinter. The Carthas mount a major expedition to attack Roum, led by Cromwell, and they're armed with modern weapons."

  "Could it be the bastard is simply renegade?" O'Donald said hurriedly. "He somehow takes over Cartha for a while and gets metal and powder production going, maybe even thinks he can lead a rebellion against the Merki. Well, the damn thing blows up in his face and he, and those who want to follow him, get the hell out and move to set up someplace else."

  "You know, there's something to that," Emil interjected. "He can't go south—there's more of them Tugar cousins farther south; hell, they're all over the place. Only here, up north, have we smashed them up. It's the only safe place for humans on this entire world. So he figures it's a safe bet."

  "Damn fool," Andrew whispered. "We would have taken him back in."

  "Not him," Casmar said softly. "He was always too prideful, and all could see that he and you did not get along. To come back after running away would have been beyond him."

  "But his crew were mostly Suzdalians," Andrew replied.

  "He could have always lied to them, kept them in the dark about what happened, and what you would do if they returned."

  Andrew nodded sadly. He certainly could have used that ship, and even Cromwell, pain that he was.

  "You know something?" Kal said with a sad chuckle. "The Merki have to cross the Inland Sea in their migration, and there's only one place, at the narrows between the northern and southern halves of the ocean. He might have plans within plans."

  "So if he builds a base up here, he could sally southward come winter, and with that one boat bottle up the entire Merki horde on the west bank," Andrew whispered. "That means …”

  "It means there's only one other path for the Merki to follow," O'Donald interjected, standing and going over to a map of the Inland Sea.

  "If they can't cross at the narrows, they have to come north to get around."

  "Straight at us," Hans snapped. "That bastard's inviting them to take us out."

  Andrew looked around the room, suddenly unsure. There were too many possibilities.

  "To what purpose?" Casmar asked.

  "Father, he'll hold the winning card that way. He's got control of the sea, he can jump back and forth. If Roum surrenders—and remember we've already started upgrading its iron industry—he'll have a whole fall and winter to build more weapons, and then he can jump back to Cartha, stay in Roum, or even pick up the pieces after the Merki move on."

  "If Roum surrenders," Andrew said quietly. All looked over at him. He picked up the telegram again and looked it.

  " 'Marcus expecting aid. Will capitulate if none forthcoming,' " Andrew said evenly.

  "Look, we don't know what the plan is," Andrew said, rising to his feet. "He could be in the employ of the Merki, but even if he is he might have his own plan anyhow. We can speculate endlessly about what his real purpose is. Gentlemen, we have to deal with the concrete, the crisis as it is here and now, and leave the speculation until we have more facts."

  "We've got to move quickly," Hans said, standing up to join O'Donald by the map.

  "That Marcus is a tough nut," Kal interjected. "He wants our weapons and our knowledge, but the last thing he wants is our revolution."

  "And Tobias might be willing to offer the first two without the third," Andrew replied.

  "If Roum surrenders, it could change our position in a drastic way," Hans said, peering at the map. "We'll be blocked in our expansion to the east and lose valuable resources, especially the mercury for percussion weapons and copper, zinc and tin, which would cripple our telegraph and any hope of breech-loading weapons."

  "The weapons are one thing," Casmar interjected softly. "It's the other considerations, my friends. Before we even have gotten fairly started, we'll have a hostile neighbor. I've prayed that all our dreams will work, that men and women around this world can be united in a common dream of prosperity and peace, that we'll stand together against the hordes, that never again will any of us be cattle."

  "If it's a Merki plot, father, they'll have turned not just the Cartha but also the Roum against us. If it's a plot of Tobias
's, we could possibly be in their path," Andrew said forcefully.

  Only this morning he and Kathleen had awaked together in a world that had promised a peaceful place for their child to be born. He cursed inwardly. Was it all to start yet again?

  "Gentlemen, it's also a question of honor," Andrew said softly. "We have pledged our word to Marcus. You're right, Kal, he is a tough nut, and he is definitely not interested in our social revolution. But I'll say this for the man—I think he is honorable. We have an agreement, and he'll wait to see if we'll honor it."

  "So we go in," O'Donald said, his voice eager.

  "Mr. President," Andrew said formally, looking down the table, "I'm recommending to you that we order a full mobilization of the army and send out an expedition for the relief of Roum."

  "I've never had to face anything like this before," Kal said cautiously. "You handled it all last time."

  "The procedure is simple, Mr. President," Andrew said, shifting to Kal's formal title. "As president you are empowered to mobilize the army pursuant to a treaty obligation and send the army out."

  "And the Senate?"

  "Watch out for that damned Mikhail," O'Donald said coldly.

  "For now you could define this as a military expedition without a formal declaration of war. We are not invading anyone, or suffering direct attack. We're simply sending an expedition to relieve an ally."

  Andrew paused for a moment and looked down to the far end of the table, where a gaunt, sad-faced officer had sat in silence.

  "John, what will we need and how long would it take to get things moving?"

  The group looked over at John Mina.

  "What are you sending?"

  "Twenty-five thousand men and a hundred artillery pieces," Andrew said sharply.

  "Twenty-five thousand?" Hans interjected, "Sir, that's five divisions out of six, and the sixth has one brigade down on the frontier. You're stripping our defenses here to the bone."

  "The Merki are no threat at the moment," Andrew replied. "The threat is to Roum. Hawthorne reports they've landed twenty thousand already."

  "He's just a boy," O'Donald said. "He could be overexcited."

  "I trust his judgment," Andrew replied. "He took a good drubbing today and still kept his head about him. I think he's got enough sense to realize the danger of exaggerating."

  "I agree with Andrew on that," Kal replied, "all personal feelings aside," and the group, relaxing a bit, chuckled softly.

  "There could be more coming in," Andrew continued. "Remember, this is just the first day. There are a lot of unknowns here, and I want the numbers on our side. This is a political situation as well—I want Marcus to see what our strength really is, just in case he's wavering. If the numbers are on our side it'll mean fewer casualties as well in the long run."

  "There's good wisdom in that," Casmar interjected. "With luck, such a force might scare those scoundrels off without a fight."

  "I still don't like it," Hans said coldly. "Remember, he could always move the Ogunquit this way and his men as well."

  Andrew looked over at his old mentor and smiled.

  "I've thought about that. Remember with the rail line we can move troops back within a couple of days, while it'll take him at least five days to get here and longer for the galleys! We'll have the advantage. Once we push him out of Roum, no matter which way he turns our army will be there. While I'm gone, get some additional people working on the southwest bastion guarding the river approach just to make sure."

  "What about old Fort Lincoln?" Kal asked.

  "It's nearly five miles south of the city," Hans replied. "If he ever did run the Ogunquit past it, the men inside would be cut off."

  "Regarding Roum," Andrew interjected, dismissing the concern about a strike against Suzdal, "we're not there first, my friend, but I want us there with the most. Besides, you and O'Donald will be here, and that's worth an extra division in itself."

  "Now wait a minute, colonel darling," O'Donald roared. "If there's going to be a fight, and it looks like it'll be slam-bang artillery duel, I plan to be there."

  "I'm leaving the 44th behind for security with you two in charge, but the 35th Maine goes with me. I'll feel safer knowing that."

  "And you running off to see the action," O'Donald said with a huff. "You're the secretary of war—it should be Hans and me that go."

  "I'm going up with the army, I have to. But I want Kal here with some backing."

  Andrew looked over at Kal, who hesitated for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

  "Now Kal," O'Donald said, a note of pleading his voice.

  "President Kalencka," Kal replied with a grin, "and commander in chief, according to the constitution, Pat."

  "You dirty scoundrels," O'Donald groaned, and mumbling a curse he leaned back against the wall and fell silent.

  "Back to you, John," Andrew said, his tone making it clear the debate was over. "What do we need to move the army?"

  John, who had already started to scribble furiously with a pencil, looked up at Andrew with a grimace.

  "It'll take us to the limit, beyond it. If we had made the rail line a four-and-a-half-foot gauge instead of three-and-a-half, our rolling stock could have handled more. This is rough, mind you, but I figure we'll need over seven hundred cars and fifty locomotives to do the job. I'd suggest sending up twenty-five days' rations with the army. The men can pack eight days' rations each; the rest can be loaded in boxcars. Batteries you should strip down to one horse per gun and one caisson. It's moving the horses and feed that's the tough part. Moving one of those damn big horses and its feed is equal to moving twenty men."

  "One horse per gun?" O'Donald interjected. "It'll slow us down."

  "We did it in the last war," Mina replied. "That's the beauty of the old four-pounders—the men can haul 'em if need be. Even stripping it all down it'll still come down to that number."

  "Damn, that's a tall order," Andrew said quietly.

  "We've got the locomotives, but a lot of them are older models, not able to haul much beyond fifty tons, five carloads. Ten out of our fifty engines are in for overhauls. We can cut that short and get maybe all back out in a couple of days. There are eleven engines on the line now hauling construction equipment east or heading back, along with the four engines working at the railhead. I can send up word for them to dump off their supplies, turn around, and head back. It's the rolling stock that's a problem. We've got just over sixty passenger cars for the entire line, and that's not even enough for one division. Boxcars and flats we've got just under two hundred of each. The one advantage you've got is that we've got over four thousand men working along the line. They're all regular army, their equipment is with them. Most of those are already at the railhead, so that'll cut things somewhat, but not enough."

  "So we're short?"

  "If we press in all the hopper cars and cabooses, and throw in the forty dormitory cars for the construction crews, along with crane cars, everything with wheels, and load them down to the maximum, we might barely squeeze it, though we'll still be a hundred cars short. We'll have to overload, it's that simple. But you won't get more than twelve, fifteen miles per hour at best with the engines hauling that much."

  "Why not run half up and then come back and fetch the rest?" Kal asked.

  "It'd be a logistical nightmare, sir. We can run fifty trains up that single track, that's the easy part. It's gonna be a hell of a sight, I tell you, damn near four miles of rolling stock and locomotives all on one line. Yes sir, a hell of a sight."

  John fell quiet for a moment as if lost in a reverie, and the group waited patiently for him to continue.

  "But try to start turning them around in that traffic," John said softly. "There's only a couple of sidings at the railhead and one turntable in Hispania. The next major siding and rail yard is at the Kennebec River crossing two hundred miles back. We'd have a real problem running them back through that snarl.

  "There's another problem I'm not even sure we can h
andle. We're running three trains a day each way up that line. Our tank stops for water might run bone-dry. We're going to have to haul along all the buckets we can find. If need be we'll fetch water from the rivers and filter it with muslin.

  "Fuel's another problem. We're going to run through a couple of thousand cord mighty quick. Just running up the line is going to damn near exhaust our stockpiles. Turning trains around, moving them back here, then running them up again would be out of the question. As it is, if I can scrape up a spare train, I might just load it up with firewood to be on the safe side. Remember as well, chances are at least one engine will act up, might even break down, especially some of the older models. We'll have to be ready for that. Otherwise it could tie up everything to beat hell."

  "Can all this be done?" Andrew asked.

  "How soon, sir?"

  "Two days," Andrew said quietly.

  Mina gave a sad exhausted smile. Andrew looked at his logistical chief closely. The preparations for the Tugar war had pushed him over the edge, but with his burden of responsibility he could understand how it had happened. John had never seemed to recover completely from the strain. Yet he was a genius in what he did, pulling together a vast industrial operation out of what had been a medieval agrarian society less than three years ago. All that had been accomplished, the arming of a modem force with thirty thousand men and two hundred field pieces, the building of nearly seven hundred miles of rail line, along with the myriad of other tasks, would most likely have been impossible without Mina's skills. Andrew just feared that he was using this man up too fast.

  "I'd rather have a week," John said quietly.

  "We don't have the time, John," Andrew said gently. "It'll take us two days to get to the railhead. We'll lose half a day unloading. Then it's still over forty miles of marching, another two days at least. That's over a week. Those fifty-pound guns will undoubtedly smash the city walls to dust by then."

  "You know, this mobilization will shut down our industry for weeks," John said. "Everything will come to a halt, with all the men mobilized. We're way behind on threshing equipment for the fall harvest, along with pipes for the water supply. It's going to throw everything out of kilter. We might even lose part of the harvest as a result."