Author's Note:
Leviathan, Behemoth, and Goliath are all owned by Scott Westerfeld, as well as the characters described in this fan fiction. I do not claim any ownership except for the writing you will soon read. If I were Scott Westerfeld, I'd be in Australia and writing the fourth book (even though in real life he's not), and last time I checked the Sears Tower was still outside my window.
The following fan fiction, "The Cross", takes place during World War II. The year is 1941, but no - Alek and Deryn are not 42-year-olds. They are still teenagers, which means they would have been born a few years after WWI ended. I just felt that it would be better to keep them young in this particular story. Also, there is still an Austria, and Alek is still on the run, and he's still a prince - it's everything that happened in the real book, moved forward twenty years in time. And of course, with a slightly different storyline, but that can't be helped seeing as it's a whole different war.
It starts out six days after Alek and company come aboard the ship for the first time. However, this time, he and Deryn become very fast friends and they have already told each other all of their secrets - except for the one about Deryn being a girl. This may seem a bit unlikely, but it would also be boring if they weren't very close friends yet.
All historical or geographical mistakes are mine, although some of them I changed on purpose.
If you're going to comment or review my writing, please don't say things like "I swear to God that sucked" and not tell me why. Constructive criticism is very welcomed, but insulting my writing is just downright nasty. And if you like a part of it, please tell me what and why. Thanks, and I hope you like my first fan fiction!
CHAPTER ONE
"Adolf Hitler," Alek spoke slowly, testing the new, foreign words on his tongue. The edges were sharp, leaving his mouth with the aftertaste of metal, and a strange feeling he couldn't identify. He licked his lips and began to analyze the name. "It sounds Austrian. Perhaps he was born in my country." He set down the newspaper he was holding and looked across the table at Dylan. The boy was absently scratching circles into the wood of the wall next to them.
"Dylan," Alek said loudly. "Dylan." The boy ignored him, tracing the outline of the Leviathan into the mess wall. "God's wounds, Dylan, are you listening to me?"
A few awkward moments of silence passed. Then Dylan seemed to notice that Alek was staring at him expectantly. Clearing his throat, Dylan turned back to the table and grinned sheepishly. "Were you saying something?" he asked innocently.
"Yes, I was," Alek huffed. "I would kick you, but I just woke up. Anyway." Alek slid the newspaper across the table. "This Hitler has an Austrian name. Do you think he is maybe a native to my country?"
Dylan grabbed a biscuit and began to chew on it as he read the paper silently. As he progressed down the page, his jaw stilled as his eyes widened, and eventually he looked up at Alek in shock. "Let's hope not!" he exclaimed. "Austria would be ashamed to have such a man come from her depths!" Dylan shook his head and swallowed the rest of his biscuit.
Alek nibbled nervously on his own flaky biscuit. Hitler did sound like a strange, cruel man, accordingly to the newspaper. It told him that he hated Jews and wanted to get rid of them, so he stuffed them into camps and killed them. If somebody like that came from Austria, Alek would throw himself off the ship in a blink.
"And what do you-" Alek began, but Dylan gestured for him to shut up, pointing at the edge of the table. A message lizard had scrambled over the top and was heading toward Dylan. As it neared him, the lizard drew itself up and began to speak.
"Mr. Sharp, please come to the bridge," the lizard said in Dr. Barlow's voice. "The captain and I have to speak with you. Make haste." There was a pause, and then the captain's voice came in. "And if you want, Prince Alek may come as well. If you want."
Alek harrumphed, slightly offended. But Dylan was already chattering out a reply message. "I'll be there in a squick, ma'am. Alek's coming. End message." The lizard turned and scampered off.
"I wonder what this is about," Dylan pondered as they got up and headed for the bridge. "The captain never calls me to talk to him. Maybe it's something about you."
Alek shrugged. "I've only been on the ship for six days. What could I have possibly done?"
Dylan gave Alek a withering look. "You're a barking prince, you Dummkopf. You don't have to do anything."
"But he asked for you," Alek reminded him. "Added me in as an afterthought." He paused. "Probably only because I'm a prince. Maybe it's a good thing that the ship found out about my secret."
Dylan reddened. "Aye, sorry about that. I didn't think anyone was there but you and me and Dr. Barlow." Then he shrugged. "Why you even told me in the first place is beyond me."
"You were just the first person I met," Alek said. "I had a sort of natural trust. But it's okay now, I don't mind."
Dylan sighed. "If you say so."
He and Alek walked a bit in silence, both of them trying awkwardly to ignore the tension that hovered in the air between them. This went on for so long that eventually he couldn't stand it. Alek was about to spout random words just to fill the silence, but then Dylan jerked his head at a doorway to the left. "There," he said. "Open that door."
Thankful for the diversion, Alek swerved toward it and turned the knob. As he swung it outward, a draft of wind snuck into the corridor, and the sound of rushing air could be heard. "God's wounds!" he cried, staring downward. "Where on Leviathan are we?"
Dylan knelt beside Alek, looking downward at the empty air before them crisscrossed only with thick, coarse ropes. "We're just above the stern end of the gondola," he explained. "It's the quickest way to get to the bridge."
"Maybe, but it's hardly the safest!" Alek protested, shying away from the open space. "I'll just take the longer way around! See you there!" He whirled around and dashed off, only to be stopped as Dylan reached out and snagged his coattails. Alek snapped to a halt.
"No, you won't, your Serene Highness," Dylan scolded. "You'd better not defy the great Dylan Sharp!" The edge of his long rigging knife glinted in the early afternoon sun, and Alek sighed. With a few choice German curses, he allowed himself to be clipped up.
As soon as he was finished with Alek, Dylan strapped them together and fixed Alek's buckle. Then he stepped to the edge of the doorway and glanced back. "Here we go!" Dylan shouted. "Are you ready?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaped into the air. Alek screamed as they whizzed down the tangle of ropes. Was Dylan mad? The whole thing was suspiciously dangerous!
The possibly crazy midshipman let out a whoop, twirling most amusingly through the intertwining ropes. Alek just shut his eyes, tightened his grip, and ignored the sounds of rushing air around him. Somehow he managed to hang on to Dylan until they landed with a thunk on the top of the gondola. Alek panted, snapping his eyes wide. "God's wounds, Dylan!" he puffed out. "That was terrifying!"
"Aye!" he agreed, and began to unclip them. Alek shrugged himself out of his makeshift harness and waited as Dylan tossed them into an open window at the side of the gondola. "Sorry about that!" the boy called down, but didn't stay to say anything more. He was sprinting along the length of the gondola toward the bridge before Alek could even blink. Momentarily stunned, he collected himself and followed his friend, if not a bit more slowly.
By the time he reached the bridge and swung down the hatch into it, Dylan was nodding politely as the captain and Dr. Barlow talked softly to him. Alek cleared his throat, and all three of stopped talking and turned around. A brief pause ensued, but then Dr. Barlow spoke. "Ah, Alek," she announced. "We were just telling Mr. Sharp about his newest assignment. Perhaps you'd like to hear?"
Alek glanced at Dylan, who shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay," Alek agreed. "This might be interesting."
The captain brushed off his coat and stood a little straighter. "Mr. Sharp has been chosen for a special mission. Two days from now, we will drop him in Germany. He will, along with three other men, infiltrate Dachau concentration camp, take control of the communication and administration, and bring supplies to the inmates. Then, the Leviathan will arrive and officially liberate the camp." The captain gave Alek a hard glare. "This is a top secret military mission. If you tell anybody, I will personally see to it that you will never be able to tell anything to anybody ever again."
Alek nodded quickly. "Yes, sir!"
Dylan snickered. Alek glared at him.
"Mr. Sharp," the lady boffin interrupted. "I believe you should choose your three men now."
"Aye, you're right," Dylan agreed. He pondered for a moment, and then spoke again. "Newkirk, of course," he decided firmly. "And perhaps that Ludlow boy. Oh, and uh … and Alek." He turned to Alek and grinned broadly. The latter stared back, not comprehending.
"A-Alek?" the captain stammered, just as surprised. "But he's a prince! He has no military training, no useful traits! Why would you-?"
"Sir," Dylan interrupted. "I have a plan. I know what I'm doing."
The captain looked skeptical for a moment, but finally he sighed and said, "All right. You are in charge of this mission anyway. Choose whomever you please." With that, he turned, retreated behind his desk, and began shuffling his papers. "You are dismissed."
Dylan saluted, turned on his heel, and sailed out the door. Alek hurried after him, half-stumbling in his haste. "Wait, Dylan!" he called. "You're ... going too fast!" The boy ignored him, so Alek was forced to pick up his pace until he was able to jog alongside his friend at approximately the same speed. "You … you … God's wounds, Dylan! Would you slow down for a moment?"
With an overly dramatic sigh, Dylan drew himself in. Finally Alek was able to walk instead of sprint, and he stretched out his knees rather pleasurably. "Thank you," he huffed. "It was about time you realized that I haven't all the military experience you do."
"Or maybe it's time that you realized I'm taller!" Dylan shot back, but his blue eyes danced with mirth. Alek raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.
"Why, is that how you speak to the future Emperor of Austria?" he challenged.
"Aye, that's right!" Dylan cried, and shot down the corridor before Alek could react. "That's exactly how I speak to bum-rags like you!"
"Dylan!" Alek shouted, forcing himself to run again. "Dylan, you little cheat, stop!"
Eventually, Alek was able to catch up to his friend and yank on his arm. Dylan grudgingly agreed not to run so fast again, and inwardly Alek thought, Again around officers, or again anytime? But he didn't dwell on the thought. At least Dylan wasn't running at the moment, and that's all his fairly vibrating legs cared about.
They headed back to Dylan's quarters, passing Newkirk and Ludlow on the way. "Mission, two days," was all Dylan said. This was met both times with a torrent of questions, but the boy simply replied, "Top secret. Meet me in my quarters at noon on the day." Finally, after a bit of grumbling, Newkirk and Ludlow both went back to their previous occupations and left the middy and prince alone. Alek was happy for the silence, because it meant that no one was around to pry and ask about everything he said. Dylan made small talk, and Alek answered with "mmhmm"s and "of course"s when appropriate. The time flew, and soon they were both collapsing into chairs in Dylan's quarters.
"Lunch always makes me drowsy," Dylan explained, switching from a chair to his bed. "Especially when there's potatoes and biscuits involved." He glanced at Alek, who stared back expressionless. "Barking spiders, Alek, stop looking at me like that."
Alek shrugged, grinning. "It's nice to creep you out for a change, and not be intimidated by your … what do you call it … air sense."
Dylan chuckled. "A prince afraid of an airman's expertise? Alek, my friend, I think you're scrambled in the attic." He fixed Alek with a convincingly worried look. Alek would have been fooled had it not been for the cocked eyebrow above one eye.
"I am not afraid, as you most blatantly put it. I am intimidated, simply because I don't know as much about flying as you do."
"You're afraid, your princeliness, admit it."
"I am most certainly not afraid!" Alek protested, stomping a foot. "I am intimidated! And those are very different things!" Too late he realized that his childish actions completely contradicted his words.
Dylan tsked and fixed Alek with yet another unwavering stare. For a few moments, Alek felt as if he were being drawn into the depths of his eyes, falling into a strange void of disbelief and laughter. He wanted to blink, but he steeled himself and widened his eyes. Dylan chuckled, keeping his gaze steady with ease. Alek felt a vague annoyance at yet another thing his friend bested him in. Was he ever going to be better than Dylan? It seemed that Alek was inferior in every way - climbing the ratlines, feeding the bats, cranking in the Huxley. At least he knew more about engineering than he did. He gave a little grin of triumph at that thought, but then lost concentration and broke eye contact.
The middy on the bed gave a little "heh" of triumph, then said evenly, "If you are not afraid, why did you look away first?"
Alek stuck out his tongue. "Du bist zu intelligent für die eigene gute," he replied.
Dylan glared at him.
"You're too smart for your own good," he amended.
Dylan grinned. "Aye. Thank you."
