Author's Notes:
These mainly Airborn-based chapters are merely setting the scene for heavy-duty Leviathan action, so please bear with me. Read and review as always :)
Matt made his way cautiously to the front of the house, his mother following behind him.
Two crisply dressed gentlemen stood in the small foyer, looking around. One of them, Matt realized abruptly, he recognized.
"Sir John?" he asked, tentative. And as the slim gentleman swiveled around to face him, Matt saw that he was indeed the Canadian Minister of Air.
"Ah, Mr. Cruse," he said. "How good of you to join us."
"Uh, thank you, sir. May I ask what we owe for your visit?"
"Now, now. Let's not be hasty." He chuckled, and gestured to his companion, who was a lot stouter, though muscular and barrel-chested. This one was in full military dress, and Matt spotted several stripes on his shoulders. "This is General Gordon," Sir John introduced.
The General bowed, stiff and light. "Mr. Cruse. Madam Cruse. My apologies for bothering you during lunch hours; my schedule is not very flexible."
He had a very pronounced accent, highly British, and his demeanor made the Cruse home seem like the Buckingham Palace. His presence was rather peculiar as well; as if he could choose, at will, whether or not to be noticed. His back was straight, his head high, and his calm grey eyes were pure logic and reason. No emotion.
Mrs. Cruse was all aflutter. "Oh, no, not at all, General, and Sir John. Um, would you perhaps like tea?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you. On behalf of our government as well, Madam Cruse, I thank your son for his exemplary service aboard the Starclimber this past summer."
Matt felt himself blush. His mother, far from being flattered, made even more attempts to offer refreshments. Neither of them were accustomed to such stiff and formal praise — as far as Matt was concerned, the Expedition had been last year, and nobody ought mind it this much anymore. And he didn't like the way the General talked, as if the Starclimber were a military exploit. All the same, he managed a simple "thank you, sir", and waited for further word.
They were all ushered into the living room after some agonizing seconds of standing around. Baz had rounded up his sisters and was probably keeping them out of sight, and for that Matt was grateful. His mother was in enough of a fright now without having to mind two girls and their tongues.
"So," Sir John said after a moment, when all their teas have been served, and biscuits laid out in the finest china Mrs. Cruse owned. "Let's get to business, shall we? Mr. Cruse, are you familiar with recent events?"
Matt had the very uncomfortable feeling of being back in the Academy, after Dean Pruss had just thrown him a trick question.
"Erm, no sir. Not in particular."
"But your wife is Dr. Katherine Cruse?"
"She is."
"Well. That does seem strange, given her involvement with the Zoological Society, which is also incidentally responsible for our nation's diplomacy —"
"My wife does not often share with me details of her work, sir," Matt interrupted. Sir John stared at him for a moment, before nodding.
"I see. I was rather hoping this would be made easier had she shared the news, but I suppose it is a very recent development." He cleared his throat. "To be brief, Mr. Cruse, we have reason to believe that Great Britain may enter a large scale war in the immediate future."
Matt felt his jaw hang open. He could not stop himself. "What?" he said.
"Britain is heading for war," the General interjected. "I apologize for not having properly introduced myself, but I am General Robert Gordon, Commander of the Polaris Division, under His Majesty's Royal Air Service."
Matt blinked. The Polaris Division was Britain's most elite aerial combat corps, known for their advanced weaponry, high mobility, and efficiency. Members were chosen from amongst the best sky sailors in the Air Service and Aero Force, trained gruesomely for several years, and spent their lives protecting the interests of the Empire. It all sounded very harsh, and it was, but the Division had played decisive roles in the Boer Wars and the Anglo-Afghan Wars. Matt has not been acquainted with any members, though later he learned that Chuck Shepherd had been recruited, but turned down the position due to migraine. If the Division only recruited men of Shepherd's calibre, Matt had some idea what to expect of its brutality and efficiency. All the same, he wasn't sure why the General brought this up, and didn't know how to react.
"I have heard a lot about your Division, sir," he said in the end, neither a judgment nor a compliment.
"I have no doubt you have," the General replied. Quiet confidence rolled off him like cold drafts off the eternally frozen cliffs of the Antarctic. This was a man who had power, who knew he had power, and who knew that others knew he had power.
"Yes, quite," said Sir John. "You must be wondering why the head of the Polaris came here today, and —"
"Are you trying to ask my son to join the Division?" Mrs. Cruse asked, very suddenly. She had been listening from the side, grim and nodding, and Sir John jumped, probably having forgotten she was even there.
"Mom —" Matt said.
"We are not, ma'am," the General said. "We know your son is not interested in a military career." His cool eyes appraised Matt for a few seconds, and for that instant, there were pity and disgust in the grey pupils. Matt was taken aback by this open display of discrimination, which he had least expected to see in a fine gentleman such as the General.
"Oh, right," Mrs. Cruse said, and flushed red as if just now realizing how blunt and impolite she had been. "Of course, General. I was only concerned that —"
"Very natural, ma'am. We respect his choices. However, we would like to ask him to train with the Division for a very brief duration."
There was a short silence in the room as Matt and his mother digested this piece of information.
"May I ask," he said slowly, "why you want me to —"
"It is only for a week, Mr. Cruse," the General said. "Nice and easy."
"That isn't what I'm asking. I'm asking why —"
"Training in the Division can be useful in and of itself, without other reasons," the General said calmly.
"Look, sir, I am not going to —"
"You seem young and healthy. I assure you, we will put you on the least taxing regimen, and even Madam Cruse here would have no problem going through with that. That is, unless you find yourself rather… lacking?"
Matt bristled. He wasn't too athletic, but he was still fit and agile, and it was hard to sit there and take it as the General linked his not serving in the military with cowardice and physical inadequacy. Sensing the swiftly rising arrogance in the General's voice perhaps, Sir John coughed.
"General, I don't believe you have touched upon the primary reason for this, admittedly sudden, request," he said soothingly. "Mr. Cruse, it is of course entirely optional. Please do not let us lead you to think otherwise." He gave the General a meaningful glance — which the man returned calmly.
"Oh, good," Matt said, his fist slowly unclenching. "I would hate to be dragged to somewhere I do not wish to go in a free country such as Canada."
"Which is, incidentally, part of the British Empire," the General added amiably. "Which is, again incidentally, on the brink of war. Naturally, her male citizens should have to do their duty as patriots to protect their nation —"
"Canada has its own parliament, and does not enforce mandatory service."
"Some of us may find that willingly serving the nation that sheltered us is the highest form of excellence."
"Well, my loyalties lie first and foremost to my family, and —"
"Your loyalties lie first and foremost to His Majesty, King George, and to suggest otherwise may be considered tantamount to treason."
Matt stood up.
"If you are here only to accuse me of treason, and for something as childish as participation in military service, then please leave our house," he said, shaking with indignation and rage. "I am not interested in what you have to offer."
The General met his gaze, unflinching.
"It is not exactly respectful to call His Majesty's Armed Forces childish, boy."
If his mother weren't there, Matt was sure he'd have swung his fist.
"Gentlemen!" Sir John shouted, horrified and disgusted. They both dropped their gaze. "General, please apologize," he said sternly.
And, like that, in the blink of an eye, the General reverted back to his charming, polite self. "Of course, sir. Mr. Cruse, I am greatly ashamed of my outburst. These were the words of a man of long and loving service, and I hope you will not dwell on them. Madam," he added, bowing lightly also to Mrs. Cruse, who had been watching with increasing alarm her son's exchange with perhaps one of the most powerful military leaders in the world. She nodded tersely back.
Matt slowly forced himself to sit down. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath.
"Likewise, sir," he said stiffly, after composing his words. "Your opinions of me are not… unfounded. I am indeed young and inexperienced, and I beg you forgive my own remarks."
"Certainly," said the General, who even had the nerve to give Matt a smile. He imagined if this were how Kate felt when meeting Sir Hugh Snuffler — wanting with all her strength to strangle the fat pompous neck before her. After all, they were both vastly influential, demeaning, and utterly insufferable. He thought back to the way she dealt with her anger, by imagining her hand buried deep within Sir Hugh's neck, and slowly the imaged drained away his rage like an outlet.
Sir John let out a sigh of relief as the living room returned back to peace. "Let us discuss the actual matter at hand, before anything else happens," he said wearily.
"By all means," said Matt, drily.
"I am all ears, Sir John," said the General.
Sir John glared at the both of them once more, before harrumphing importantly.
"Mr. Cruse. As you are now aware, our nation — due to our close connection with Britain — will shortly be entering war. And as you have been aware, Canada does not have compulsory conscription. The Prime Minister… does not think we can scramble enough resources and manpower for an expeditionary force in a month."
"The war is in a month?" Matt asked, in high alarm. He had imagined something at least half a year away. Absurdly, all he could think about was, 'But what about my trip with Kate?' He quickly shook the thought away. The last thing he needed when facing two very important officials was to get all lovesick over his wife.
"Well, yes and no," Sir John answered. "But it will be soon. In less than a month, Austria-Hungary's ultimatum will run its course, and she will declare war on Serbia. What follows is an intricate system of checks and balances that have already been in place for several decades, like a ripple spreading in a still pond. We estimate another month, at most, after Austria-Hungary starts the war, before Britain will be forced to respond."
"To put it frankly, His Majesty's Government and the Admiralty have no intention to be caught unawares," the General said. "We want a standing army stationed in France when the war starts; not after. We want a large reserve of several battalions defending key cities in India, especially from the Afghani side. We need to strengthen our hold on Singapore and Malaya in case the enemy targets our commerce. We need impregnable defenses in Gibraltar and along the Suez. All of these will require soldiers — soldiers we do not have."
"Sirs, if I may…" ventured Mrs. Cruse, "but who is the enemy?"
The two men exchanged a look.
"I'm sorry, I hadn't realized the answer wouldn't be obvious. The Clanker nations, ma'am. Austria-Hungary and the German Empire, perhaps Italy or the Ottomans, if we're unlucky."
"Even Italy?" Matt asked, then added, slightly red-faced, "sorry; neither me nor my mother are well-versed in global diplomacy."
"European diplomacy, rather," said the General, "since the globe is mostly owned by Europa. Anyway, you now know our situation. The manpower we require numbers in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions. Australia and New Zealand will be organizing their ANZAC, which will provide part of the relief in the defense of Southeast Orient, and we have reasons to expect our friends in India to be rather helpful in the defense of their own land, but the European theatre must have Canadian input."
"What about the French? The Russians? Are they not your allies?"
"Not as clueless about diplomacy as we might believe, eh?" said Sir John.
The General, on the other hand, outright snorted. "Fah! The French," he said, "they have been losing every bloody war after the Napoleonic ones, and I don't believe their army is up to the challenge if Germany does invade. And the Russians? Their bear cavalry costs them more than they can afford. Our policy is to not rely on our allies too much. If there is to be a war between Darwinist and Clanker, which there will be… Britain will have to shoulder the burden. Once again I stress, we need troops."
"Which is why… you want me to go train for a week —"
"— or two," said the General. Sir John glared.
"A week, or two," Matt said, sighing, "with the Polaris Division… for what, exactly?"
"So we get voluntary enlistment."
"I understand that — actually, I don't, because how can me training with the Division be any help —"
"It's for a newsreel," the General said. "Advertisement. And you, Mr. Cruse, will be our star."
Of all the possible answers Matt could have anticipated, this one was not on his list.
"What?" he said.
"What?" his mother said, then covered her mouth, embarrassed.
"You will help — or, we hope you will help us — create a newsreel depicting yourself training," said Sir John. "You will then go on an actual mission with members of the Polaris Division to boost morale in recruits we already have."
"What?" Matt said again. He shook his head. "Sir, this won't work."
"Nonsense. Of course it will."
"You will be paid very well for your time, naturally," the General added. "If that is the problem."
"It's not! I mean, it might be, but this, this is —" Matt shrugged and looked helplessly at his mother.
"Might I ask your reasoning behind the decision, gentlemen?" interjected Mrs. Cruse.
"Certainly, ma'am," said Sir John. "As you know, your son's involvement in the expedition last year has propelled him to national renown."
"It has not," Matt said, somewhat horrified at the suggestion of such far-reaching fame. On his part, it had only been a few interviews and parades, nothing too serious. Plus, it had all been a long time ago; shouldn't people already have forgotten?
"It has," Sir John repeated more firmly. "Boys everywhere want to be like you. You are their role model, Mr. Cruse, especially so in Canada."
"But then, what about Tobias, or, or Captain Walken, or anyone else, really —"
"I'm afraid your role in the Starclimber's safe return, as broadcasted by Ms. Karr's dispatches, have made you the most popular member of the expedition."
"But I didn't do anything! Dr. Turgenev —"
"Is a man of science, not young and strong and appealing to the masses. Then there is also the incident of your encounter with the pirate, and I know you think people forgot, but they have not. You are somewhat of a national hero, Mr. Cruse. It will be very beneficial to have you in our newsreels."
Matt slumped into his sofa.
"I still think there should be others —"
"Who, then, do you propose?"
"I don't know; singers, maybe, or actors, people who are actually famous."
The General chuckled. "Young men don't want to see celebrities safely behind the front lines telling them to go enlist. They want to see someone like them, someone their age who they consider a role model, serving his nation without hesitation even through harsh training. They will follow you, make no mistake of that. We will also ask your permission for us to contact your wife, who will —"
"I don't make decisions for her," Matt said, rubbing his temples, feeling worn out. "If you want her to appear in your newsreels as well, go ask her yourselves." Then he looked up. "If she agrees, will we be able to meet?"
"You have accepted, then?"
"Will we be able to meet?"
Sir John coughed. "Likely not," he admitted. "If she agrees, we will film her in London where she is, and depict her and our scientists hard at work developing new technologies for our nation. Of course, she too was a popular member of the expedition, and the species she discovered has captivated public imagination, so I think she will be a valuable addition."
Matt sighed. "I guess I have no reason not to go, but what about my job?"
"We've spoken to Sir Otto. He was very negotiable," said Sir John. "Given that your absence will be very short. If it influences your decision, we are thinking about ten months of your current salary, for a little of your time. Doesn't sound so bad, eh?"
Matt shrugged. His family wasn't well-off, but they weren't impoverished, either. His job as first officer has been able to provide quite adequately for everyone, but he supposed that extra income could never hurt.
"Of course there is the small matter of your own consent, ma'am," added Sir John, to Mrs. Cruse. "Since your son is underage."
"Right. What do you think, Mom?"
"I think," Mrs. Cruse said cautiously, "that it might not be a bad idea if it is only for a week."
"Actually, ma'am, we were thinking three weeks. Half for training, half for touring."
"Oh," said Mrs. Cruse, and doubt crossed her face.
"And I suppose your Division has nothing better to do than to promote recruitment?" Matt asked.
"Recruitment is very important, Mr. Cruse," the General replied. "This newsreel will also be shown in Britain. You are not as famous there as you are in Canada, but I have no doubt it will still have some effect. We are planning also to establish a department to deal specifically with these things."
"Propaganda, you mean."
"Patriotic advertisement," corrected the General. "But yes."
"What if you got, say, Sarah Bernhardt, and asked her to do the same thing? Surely much more effective than I would be."
Sir John exchanged a look with the General. "A most interesting idea," he said after a moment's consideration. "It might be effective. But I'm certain your presence, Mr. Cruse, will be just as effective. We need both heroes and beauties to promote our cause."
Matt almost laughed. Heroes. Wait till Kate hears of that. 'Oh, and I suppose I'm not a hero just because I'm a lady and I'm supposed to sit at home and sew dresses for you sweaty men!' she would exclaim, and he would laugh and kiss her. Once again he had to force his thoughts away from her.
"So, three weeks of my time. Starting now?" he asked.
"Starting when the Aurora returns to Paris, a week from now. General?"
"Yes. If you choose to accept, we will meet you at the Paris Heliodrome, where our men will then fly you to Switzerland, where the Polaris training grounds are."
"Switzerland?"
"The Alps, to be exact. Our members need to train in the face of the harshest environments. I am told you acclimatize very quickly to high altitude?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"A captain who we have business dealings with."
"… Slater?"
"That's the man."
Matt nodded resignedly. It would seem that everyone, including Hal Slater of all people — who he hasn't even seen for two years! — wanted him to make this newsreel. He looked at his mother and shrugged.
"There's a first time to everything, I suppose," he said.
"I daresay Syl would be very excited," she responded. They could both see the worry in each other's eyes. "General, forgive me for asking, but this won't be dangerous in any way or —"
"Absolutely not. We value safety highly in our training base." There was another small, almost undetectable hint of contempt. "That is also to say, Mr. Cruse will be kept well out of battle. Even in the event that the Polaris has to mobilize, I will make sure Mr. Cruse remains in our base until an escort can be assembled. It is heavily defended, I assure you; no war can touch it."
"I'll be safe, Mom," Matt said. "I'm sure."
"But what about after? Where is he touring?"
"Military bases of the British Expeditionary Force," the General responded. "Well behind the expected front lines. He is a civilian; I promise you, ma'am, I shall not forget that."
Mrs. Cruse sighed and reached out to grasp Matt's hand.
"Very well, gentlemen," she said after a squeeze. "You have my consent."
Author's Notes:
1. ANZAC = Australian & New Zealand Army Corps.
2. In historical WWI, Britain relied heavily on her extensive empire, and in fact the pressure for troops was so great that Canada implemented a highly unpopular system of conscription for a short duration, resulting in the Conscription Crisis of 1917.
3. Britain's MI7 was formed in 1916 to produce her wartime propaganda and limit reports on the horrifying nature of trench wars. It was extremely successful; enlistment remained strong all the way until the end of the war.
4. In most countries back then, the age of majority was 21.
