10 April 1912; Humphries and Spears, over maps in the War Room. Duncan and Mallory on the door. Roberts and Sorenson serving as aides to Director Spears. ffoulkes serving as aide to Assistant Director Humphries.
"The Death list is over 1400 souls and still updating. Deaths so far are all within a span of three hours." Alan pointed to a spot on the map. "It's in an awkward place. The nearest Branch is St. John's in Newfoundland, four hundred miles away. There's nowhere for Reapers to gather and wait, and no intermediate points to help them port in or out. Halifax Maritime is sending a Flying Dutchman, a Reaper-realm seagoing salvage tug, to the collision site to serve as a transport base."
"Do they want us to send a large group along on the voyage?"
"No, Will, not at all. We're not needed. They're calling up Reapers from Maritime Branches all along the nearest coastline. Scientific requests that we send one or two Reapers aboard at Southampton. They are to serve as personal guards and to help Franklin and Cole carry a deactivated long-distance mass transit portal. The salvage tug will meet the ship several hours before the collision, on April fourteenth. The portal will be transferred to the tug. Our scientists will uncrate it, install it, and open up a link to the War Room in Quebec. Canadian and North American Reapers will be ready to link in from their closest War Rooms.
"When Reaping is complete everyone will return to Quebec, get dry and go home. Research will leave the portal on the tug as a goodwill gift. Scientific will be working with the maritime Branches to install portals on all the other Flying Dutchmen this summer. Franklin and Cole will meet with Research Branches over there to discuss additional maritime uses. Quebec will send our Reapers to New York. That Branch will send them home on the next ship out. Portals aren't quite good enough for that long a distance yet. The Angels can pop in and out at will, so no problem there."
Will ran his finger down the Canadian coastline. "Who would you send?"
"Scientific requests any two Seniors we can spare. I defer choice of that team to Personnel and Scheduling. If they have a Junior of three years' experience or more, might as well send the triad. Just in case the local Garrisons underestimate the demonic response. Otherwise keep the Junior home. But the Research team will stay on the tug, below decks, throughout the disaster. Witnessing that Reap would be terrible for them."
"I see. No delayed Reaps from the ocean floor. Rapid return of the Reapers. Definitely a boon for the blue water divisions. Warships and ocean liners are getting too large for a single Reaper or two to handle in a timely fashion, and too numerous for a large squad to be assigned to each. I assume you've been suggesting that Research keep working on smaller, more portable versions of the portals?"
"Oh, I didn't have to. A couple of my convalescent guards went home last year and got that started. Some of the German and American Research Branches are remarkably good at this sort of thing. I believe that they've produced communications models which are being installed on the battleships of the human realm. If the casualty rate is too much for the Reaper assigned to the ship, he just has to open it up and call for help. Transport portals will lock on the signal if they are close enough. All Scientific is working on extending the range. They may have trouble getting Franklin and Cole to come back. It'll be a real treat for them to talk to other geniuses working on similar projects. I'm sure they'll return with notebooks filled with interesting ideas."
"Two years to go before war begins?"
"Yes, we think so."
"Then I must object. Send Franklin, or send Cole, but we cannot risk both."
"Agreed, Director Spears. You're quite right. But that is not our decision to make. This is a Scientific mission. Our only input is the Reaper escort. I'll talk to Scientific about sending one or the other and a colleague of his choice. Maybe they can arrange additional protection from our Garrison or the London Lab Angels if Franklin and Cole insist on going together."
"Could the Angels not carry the Scientists home?"
Alan looked down, then back at Spears. "Of course they could. But we bear the stigma of mortal sin. It's hard for an Angel to overlook. Maybe they think that if they touch us we will stain them. Maybe their travel skims the edge of the Divine Realm, where we may not go. They will not transport us, even if it means leaving us to die." He spread his hands. "Cost of doing business. There's always more where we came from."
"Can Slingby ask the Color-Sergeant?"
"We shouldn't endanger the friendship. Leave it to Scientific, or to the Lab itself. Angels and Reapers work well together there. Will, the Angels really hate it when I point out things they should have thought of themselves. I'm pretty sure that's why Artois has frozen me out, although I do think they keep him very busy. Of course, he's never forgiven me for taking over the Beach Portal to deal with a Ravening, and then improving it—changing it for our own use in the Branches and Divisions—and refusing to give it up. I may have offended or frightened Bourne as well. I asked him if the Angelic population was increasing as fast as the demonic."
"Unfortunate, Humphries."
"Also inevitable. Sorry, sir. It's a human thing. I mean, look at them, Holy and Fallen alike. The same strategies, same weapons, same everything since their first day. They are created to worship and obey. They are conservative to the point of petrification, even the Uplifted, who are no longer human after they are changed. Only humans innovate. They do it all the time, at a very fast rate these last few years. I think it scares the Angels, as well it should. We Reapers are also slow to change, because we are punished for it; only the Scientific divisions are allowed to experiment, and only under strict oversight. If Heaven and Hell want new ideas or new devices, they have to borrow from humans. They hate it, and are jealous of it, and pretend as hard as they can that any advance was all their own idea. And when I dare to make suggestions, or make use of things they consider their own property, they are not pleased."
"Are you persona non grata, then?"
Alan shook his head. "Not entirely, sir. The angels who exchange blades for finished knives are amiable. The London Lab Angels are friendly, so long as I keep my distance from their workstations. The Angels who guard the Academy's borders are hostile to me, but they are hostile to all. I think those stations are considered punishment duty for those who have laced their sandals incorrectly. I work quite well with Sandriel, who has forgiven me for a few early comments. But I have been very careful not to offend him again, and I do not ask or suggest. It is possible that he tolerates me because he has been ordered to do so until the War Room setups are complete. Once they are satisfied that there is nothing more they need from me, he also may withdraw."
"I see," said Will, and indeed he did. "You asked questions, which they will not answer. They asked you questions and blamed you for your honesty. Now they avoid you to avoid further unpalatable truths, which require them to make unwelcome changes. Rather human, actually."
"Well, same Creator, same basic blueprints, I guess. Better that they blame me than blame us all. Eric still drinks with Bourne on Thursday nights. In an emergency we can pass information through him. Also, sir, most of our Reapers are friendly with the Garrison patrols that share their territories. I'm the one most associated with change. I think they were wary of Roland at first because he works with me, but that changed quickly. His formality is also conservative, which they find reassuring."
"Is there another you would bring into Operations, if you had a choice?"
"Ronald Knox. He's too smart for his job and chases women out of boredom. I use him on Thursday Nights. To the angels, he looks young, amusing, and harmless. They forget that our faces do not reflect our ages. They drink with him and talk to him. Underneath, he's a street kid, observant and pragmatic, can assume command and play a role. But we need him where he is. He's our best knife instructor. He grounds Grell when she's overexcited or manic. They've a first-year Junior who's very promising, but still a first-year. When Molly Reyes attains Seniority, perhaps we'll be able to consider transferring him to Operations. But we'll be well into disaster by then. We'll still have to find a strong partner for Grell if Reyes does not remain in the partnership."
"Let me think about this. I agree with your opinion. Perhaps a way can be found, if Knox is willing."
"If you ever have a question about a situation, Will, remember that Grell has a fine eye for human and Reaper behavior. She's a valuable resource. Ask her advice when anything seems off-key."
16 April 1912
The phone rang. Humphries answered. The phone squawked and buzzed, indicating that the call was being routed through a series of communications portals that were a little too far apart. "Mr. Humphries? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, pretty well. Fancher? How did it go?"
"Not too badly. We're in Quebec at the moment. Once the crew of the Dutchman were comfortable with the controls of the Portal, all us Brits went through to their home base. We'll be taken to New York today. We'll set ourselves on the first ship out and travel on it," indignant shouts in the background, "—sorry, her—until we can connect with the portal in Southampton. Should be home in three or four days. "
Interesting. Fancher, who lived in a port city on an island, was pretending ignorance of naval terminology. Probably making himself nonthreatening to somebody insecure. Time to extend Gather invitations to the New World, as soon as the portals could manage it. "Can you give me a quick briefing?"
"Mostly second-hand. We stayed downstairs, um, below with the Research team. They aren't used to that sort of thing at all, of course, poor fellows. Very distressed, Franklin was. Cole demanded to watch but Jonas sat on him. This Reap was difficult even for the old salts of Maritime, all the innocents you see. They do hate disasters involving passenger liners. They expect a lot more of this in the future as 'submarines' get involved. Not sure what those are, but I can imagine. Demon presence, a whole army of them, to hear the Reapers talk. The Garrisons turned out in force and cooperated well, as did the Reapers. No injuries, no losses to Branch or Garrison. Like you, they've been planning for this sort of thing. Their main problem has always been transport over those long distances and depths."
"Did our portal help?"
"Immensely. They are very excited about it. Our Scientists are now surrounded by like-feathered birds, all chattering like a flock of sparrows. Allows much more efficient scheduling of the workforce, you see? And there are land applications as well, over huge territories thinly populated. Canada and western North America are rather excited about it. Russian branches might be interested. Cole and Franklin are having the time of their lives. Jonas says it's all very well but he wants a pair of dry socks. Something for Eric; the schools up here started increasing class sizes only four years ago. If they're involved in the upcoming war, somebody else is going to do that Reaping. Probably our lot. Their increase is aimed at something else, land-based, say 1917 or '18. I don't think they've drawn any conclusions yet, just think of it as curious if they think of it at all."
"Ravenings?"
"Dry land only, mostly around population centers big enough to make it worthwhile. Prompt responses have discouraged that sort of thing, according to the Sea Reapers. The Land Reapers might have other stories. I'll listen, but I may not see many Land branch fellows before boarding ship."
"Thank you, Charley. I owe you and Jonas a drink."
"We'll share one. I have discovered the City Tavern Warmer. Brandy, rum, whiskey, and a stick of cinnamon in hot apple cider. I have the recipe to give to the barkeep at the Scythe and Skull. Tell Scheduling we want to work land-locked areas for a while. No rivers, streams, brooks. I don't even want to see a puddle. I've had enough water for a century. If some star-crossed lover jumps off a bridge I'm standing on, he will dam' well wait unReaped until shift change."
19 April 1912. End of the weekly meeting between Madame Administrator and the Director of the London Branch
Director Spears gathered up his documents. Madame Administrator arranged her own into three neat stacks.
"How are your managers doing with the training of Reaper assistants, Mr. Spears? "
"Quite well, Madame. Mister Slingby believes that Senior Birch will be able to succeed him, if both he and Senior Jacobs are sent elsewhere. Senior Garraway will always be a valuable second to Birch but has no desire to rise further. They are looking about for persons of talent. One possibility is Junior ffoulkes, due for promotion this year, already interning in Ops and scheduled to join the Security Section there. Slingby believes he may develop a particular interest in matching graduates to Mentors. Another is Senior Terry, who began his training under incompetent Mentors. He may be especially sensitive to the signals of bad pairings or triads."
"And Mr. Humphries?"
"Very busy, of course. Thoughtful as always. Doing half his work outside the job description. Very good relationship with the Maritime branches. He is unhappy about the unfortunate distance that Colonel Artois maintains. He believes the coolness is due to the Reaper adaptations of portal technology, beginning with the Gather Ravening five years ago. It's also possible that Artois' superiors expressed disapproval of the friendship. Personally, I think that he is simply too busy to bother with us. His Garrison began to increase in size rapidly after Humphries pointed out to Bourne that the numbers of the enemy were rising."
"The bearer of bad news is seldom welcome. Aides?"
"Effectively, two. His Security chiefs, Duncan and Mallory, can fill in for him if required. He teaches them while they escort him on his various duties. They are training their own staff, which covers the security of myself and all their Department. Senior Ten Hagen is another possibility, especially if his partner Terry decides to work part-time for Slingby. It remains to be seen if any of them can develop the foresight that Humphries has, or whether that is an inborn talent. Senior D'Acres has assumed most duties involving Angelic interactions and appears to be willing to continue in Operations. Additional training is being provided to the Admin employees."
"Admin?"
"Slingby has taken to heart some advice given him by Jacobs; noncombatants in protected areas live longer. He proposes to train his AA fully and count on her to train future Reapers if succession becomes too rapid for the Reapers to train each other."
"Ah. A pity Mr. Jacobs dislikes Management so much. That is a very Humphries sort of thought."
"Indeed, Madame. I have reminded Mr. Jacobs that a Reaper serves where he is sent, and that sulking does not change that rule. He is making the adjustment. Mr. Humphries' two Junior Admins will likewise be trained in all his more straightforward duties. If they show promise, they will be proposed for promotion accordingly."
The phone rang. Humphries answered.
"Mister Humphries, you worrisome little man."
"Colonel Artois?"
"It has been mentioned to me, by people I trust, that I have been remiss in contacting you recently. I feel I must make amends. I have sent a gift to a person who is a mutual acquaintance. I do hope you will be pleased, and am certain he will be. Please extend my compliments to his Mentor, Engineer Crawford. Ah, pray do excuse me, must run. Will call again." Click.
What?
"Mallory, I think I need to visit the Scythes workshop. Can you assign me a minder for a brief visit?"
Smitty, as was his habit, went from Tuesday lab classes to lunch and then his workbench. He found Engineer Crawford working on a pile of design specs. "Smithfield. Package for you. Arrived early this morning. Suggest you open it up and get whatever it is stowed away. Have you ordered anything?"
"No, sir." Smitty looked at the package. A flat rectangle. About eighteen inches wide by two feet long, eight inches high, and heavy. A very strong box. Could the contents be fragile? He began to work carefully on the twine securing the brown paper wrapping. As the top of the box came free, a light showed at the opening. Crawford harrumphed. People nearby began to gather around. Smitty lifted out a layer of excelsior. The light brightened. With a final, excited sweep, Smitty brushed aside the rest of the packing and lifted out a blade—
—a scythe-metal blade—
—his original blade for the Heavy Duty Supplies Scythe Mark I—
—blessed with the glory of Angelfire.
Crawford gasped.
"Oh," said Smitty. "I see."
