Ganymede (The Clockwork Century 3)

They shared the moment, the fear of knowing—alone, together.

Thirteen

Andan Cly ran his finger over the map as slowly as a man learning to read. He traced the curve of the Mississippi River gently, lifting his hand to see a detail here, a notation there. The map was an older one and it had been abridged, amended, and scrawled across to make it more pertinent to the present situation. This sheet included not only the serpentine bends and miniature ports that dotted the way between the city and the ocean; it also included the canals, both commercial and semiprivate—and the docks that Texas likely didn’t know about.

The electric lamps had been dimmed down to nothing, leaving only the oil lamps and rickety wire-frame lanterns to give them any light.

Outside, there were no sounds of soldiers or rolling-crawlers. No marching feet or passing patrols. The Texians had left—at least, those who were leaving were long gone, and no more were on the verge of exiting, so the time had come to put the finishing touches on the plan before putting it into action.

Night had not yet fallen, but it was coming, and it would be there within the hour—black and thick, a perfect shield from the eyes of anyone too interested in knowing about the giant machine hidden inside the nondescript storehouse.

“These are the forts, ain’t that right?” Cly asked, poking at a spot in the river just past a bend that kinked sharply north and to the east.

“Fort Saint Philip on the north bank, and Fort Jackson on the southern one,” Deaderick told him. “Fully manned, mostly by Confederates. ”

“Not Texians?”

“Naw. Texas lets them keep their forts as a matter of show. Makes it look more like a group effort, rather than an occupation. It’s bullshit, and everybody knows it. ”

“So the Rebs keep the forts in order to keep their pride. Got it. Are they dangerous?”

“Dangerous enough to steer clear of them, as much as we’re able. They don’t have anything much in the water that we’ll have to bypass—no charges or anything like that. They can’t clog up the waterway with bombs. There are too many merchant ships coming and going to make it worth their trouble. But they do have lookouts aplenty keeping an eye on everyone who passes by—and anyone who goes steaming upriver. ”

Fang made a sign. Cly saw it out of the corner of his eye.

Gatekeepers.

“Gatekeepers,” the captain said aloud, since he doubted anyone else but Houjin could understand the message. “That’s all they are. ”

“Heavily armed gatekeepers. They’ve got cannon all over the place, and antiaircraft, too. ”

Rucker Little noted, “There’s nothing keeping the antiaircraft from becoming antiwatercraft. All they have to do is tip the things on their fulcrum, brace them, and aim them at the waves. A buddy of mine used to work for them, doing maintenance on machine parts and the like. He says they have a pair of antiaircraft shooters mounted on each of the fort’s two river-facing towers, and both of them have been modified so they can shoot up or down. ”

“Good to know,” Kirby Troost said.

“We’ll stay out of their way. Out of their sight, anyway. Let me ask you something,” Cly said to Deaderick. “Is there any good reason we have to go right past them? They’re guarding the way to the ocean, but only if we stay in the river. ”

“This thing won’t grow legs and crawl, Captain. ”

“No, that’s not what I mean. These canals, here and here. ” He tapped at them. “Are they deep enough to hold us?”

Deaderick rubbed at his chin. “Maybe. Not that one,” he indicated a sketched-in line at Empire. “But this one might—the one just past Port Sulphur. ”

Houjin perked up. “Isn’t that where we landed? When we first came into town? Those Texians made us set down there instead of landing at Barataria. ”

“That’s right,” Cly told him.

Rucker sniffed. “Doesn’t surprise me. Texians trying to chase off perfectly nice pirates. ”

“They thought the Lafittes were hiding this thing. ” Deaderick cocked a thumb at Ganymede. “We’d actually asked for their help, a few months ago, and they were interested in assisting us, but for a fee we couldn’t afford—and we couldn’t get

the Union to spring for it. I suppose someone passed our request along. Some spies, somewhere. ”

“The bayou’s chock-full of ’em,” Rucker agreed. “Just as well we couldn’t take them up on it. ”

Kirby Troost stared at the map, baffled. “I don’t mind telling you, it blows my mind how little help you’re getting from the Federals. Here you are, trying to hand them a piece of hardware like this, and they just leave you hanging for the details. ”

Deaderick made a small grimace and said, “Eh, you know how it goes. They aren’t sure Ganymede’s worth the investment, and we can’t prove it until we show it to them. Funny thing is, the Rebs believe it. We wouldn’t have any trouble convincing them that the ship is valuable—they’re scared to death of it. ”