As promised, here is Chapter 7. Its pretty long and focused mainly on Alek and Deryn. Its probably the strangest mix of comedy and serious so far. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, especially Music Antoinette who seems to be responsible for about half of them.

Part 7

"Daddy!"
He was barely able to throw his briefcase at the waiting servant before the girl leapt into his arms. He picked her up and she giggled happily as he held her.
"Hello, mein kleinengel."
She flicked at a raindrop that was still trickling down his overcoat, leaving a line of tiny droplets in its wake. Her little hands found an opening in his buttons and burrowed her head into the layers of warm wool beneath. He laughed.
"Really Liesl, you look like a mole."
She pulled her head out and gazed at him with her inquisitive blue eyes.
"A mole?"
"Yes. A mole. You like to burrow into things, don't you?"
She shook her head so hard her plaits swung.
"I don't burrow. I'm an eagle!"
She spread out her arms to demonstrate and her father laughed again.
"I suppose eagles are nicer looking than moles."
He looked up and saw his wife, Ilse, descending the stairs after her runaway daughter.
"Though not as nice looking as your mother. Or you."
He kissed her on the forehead. She was busy playing with his jacket's buttons. They were big and brass and had the Imperial Eagle stamped on them.
Ilse smiled faintly as she saw little Liesl in her father's arms.
"Back so soon? I thought Brandenburg was a weeklong conference."
"It fell apart after two days. von Heste got what was coming to him. Still..."
He was about to say something more but his wife shook her head and pointed at Liesl's back. Her husband nodded and set her down.
"All right, mein kleinengel. I think it is a little late for you to be running around. Go wash up and get in bed. I will read you something in ten minutes."
The girl nodded eagerly and began to run up the stairs as fast as her little legs would take her. Her somewhat haggard governess followed her, a hand outstretched in case she slipped.
He watched her go, the smile lingering on his face. Ilse stood next to him and he embraced her.
"You didn't answer my telephone call. I called you as soon as I reached the Lehrter Bahnhof."
"You know I hate that beastly device. I had Grobber disconnect it."
"I'll have him reco..."
"And I'll just tell him to disconnect it again."
The man sighed but his eyes smiled.
"Just don't tell me I don't try."
"I would never."
She smiled and he returned it. Then Liesl's door slammed and her expression hardened.
"What happened with von Heste?"
"He did not seem too pleased with the military reforms. Then I mentioned we should start demobilising the conscript divisions and he threw a tantrum that would rival Liesl on vaccination day."
Her expression remained stony but her eyes softened a little.
"That bad?"
"Yeah. The Kaiser seems to have warmed to the Society's proposal though he insists on using Fredrick's plan."
"Well, he was awfully close to his father."
She sighed.
"Do you think he will go through with it though?"
"It will not be easy. And now the Military is losing its political clout, they are going to lash out."
"I'm glad I married the one man in the Empire willing to make an enemy out of the best armed group of testosterone fuelled psychopaths in the world."
"And I'm glad I married the only woman in the Empire willing to make light of her husband's imminent assassination."
"I was being serious!"
"So was I."
They were quiet for a long moment.
"Daddy!"
He looked up the stairwell and saw Liesl standing at the top in her nightie.
"Yes, mein kleinengel?"
"You promised you would read to me."
"Of course I did."
He pulled off his coat and handed it to a servant, who was still clutching his briefcase. With the heavy overcoat discarded, he began to climb the stairs, exchanging only a passing glance with his frowning wife.

Clanker airships were very different from the Leviathan. While everything on a hydrogen breather was made from fabricated balsa or hemp, Clanker airships were made from aluminium and lightened steel. Everything had a metallic feel to it, from the bare aluminium walls to the harsh glare of the electrik lights. Deryn twisted on the bundle of blankets they had been given. Even Clanker wool lacked the softness of its fabricated counterpart and it made her itch terribly. Alek had no problem. He was curled up in his nest of blankets like a baby cat, Bovril mirroring his master's position inside his own bundle. She wanted to throw the woollen things away but it was barking cold at this altitude without the warmth of a living airbeast.
As she tossed and turned, she felt a pair of eyes on her back. Turning, she saw the Clanker, the older one with the eye patch, looking at her. She caught his eye and he started.
"I'm sorry."
He spoke in halting English.
"That's all right. Don't you get cold up here?"
"Sometimes. In an aeroplane the engine is almost on top of you so it does not get too cold."
"So you fly aeroplanes."
"I did, for a while."
His eyes were distant.
"Have you ever flown before? I mean properly, not on an airship."
"On a Huxley, a few times."
"A Huxley?"
"Oh it's a type of jellyfish."
He stared uncomprehending.
"That is... Its an airbeast."
"Oh."
There was an uncomfortable silence before the German airman regained the flow of his thoughts.
"Do you enjoy flying?"
Deryn smiled and her expression took on the same faintly dreamy quality as the Clanker.
"More than anything in the world."
"It is wonderful, is it not? The freedom, the wind, knowing you are three hundred metres up with only your own wits and bucket of bolts and kerosene."
Deryn nodded. She had never flown anything other than hot air balloons and hydrogen breathers. She wondered what heavier-than-air craft would be like. Much faster than airships certainly.
She smiled faintly.
"I have only flown hydrogen breathers, so I wouldn't know."
"Ah."
The Clanker's expression had darkened when she said "hydrogen breather". Deryn was seized by a sudden curiosity about who this man was and why he wore an eye patch and spoke of flying with genuine passion yet never appeared in the airship's cockpit.
"Did you get hurt? Fighting one of them? I mean, is that why you can't fly?"
As soon as she said it, she regretted it. Was she being too nosy? But the Clanker just laughed though it was a bitter thing.
"Yes. I fought hydrogen breathers. Shot down a fair share. But I lost my eye over the Alps. You see, there was this large hydrogen breather, quite famous, called the Leviathan. You must have heard of it, being in the airservice. It was carrying saboteurs for attacks on our Ottoman allies so we were ordered to intercept them. Britain had declared war on Germany only a few hours before and we had hoped the crew would surrender quickly but they refused. So we attacked. Lost a lot of good men. Brave men. Young Dietrich's plane was burning and his co-pilot was dead and he still tried to finish his mission and avenge his comrades. We gave him the Iron Cross for that. His father wept when we presented it to him."
The Clanker paused, his voice wavering for a moment. Deryn had curled up into a ball. She remembered how the last plane had dive bombed the Leviathan in a last ditch attempt to destroy it. She suddenly felt guilty for the relief she had felt when the airguns had ripped the aeroplane apart. She was glad she had survived and that was all right but somewhere, deep down, she had felt some terrible pleasure in seeing the plane crumple and fall and watching the black twisting form of the pilot as he tumbled into the abyss. She shuddered.
The Clanker continued.
"My plane was hit by these little bird like creatures but they must have had razor sharp beaks because they blew my transmission and took out a chunk of the gearbox too. I caught a broken fragment to the face which took out my left eye. The next thing I knew, I was on the glacier with my parachute deployed. I think Holt did that, he was my co-pilot. Since I was unconscious, I don't know what happened to him but Lothar said my plane broke up just after my chute deployed. It's unlikely Holt had a chance. We never found him."
He held out medal. It was a black fluted cross with silver lining. It said something in Clanker but the writing was funny and she was too tired to try and decipher it.
"Iron Cross, Second Class. Holt got one too and Dietrich got a First Class."
He laughed bitterly.
"Dietrich had always said he would get an Iron Cross before he was twenty one. We never thought he would..."
His words faded and he replaced the medal into his pocket. Deryn watched him with wide eyes. He looked at her directly for the first time since he had started talking about the attack on the Leviathan.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"No," Deryn whispered, "You've just given me a bit to think about."
"I am glad. They deserve at least that much."
The Clanker settled himself against a pile of crates and pulled a blanket over himself. He seemed to be able to rest easier now he had talked about it. But Deryn had no-one to confess her worries to. As the rest of the zeppelin's occupants settled down to sleep, she stared at the textured metal floor and tried to keep the bad thoughts away.

Alek had never seen a Darwinist city. Now he was wondering if he ever would. The place was covered with a thick smog covered the city, spewed from hundreds of German walkers which crowded the streets. There was not a single beast in sight but in the larger parks ominous bonfires burnt with a greasy smoke that smelled faintly of burnt meat. Alek shuddered. He remembered his tutors speaking about the plagues of the Dark Ages, when corpses were burnt in the streets in an effort to prevent the disease from spreading. It was a horrible thought and Alek tried to block it out.
"Fritz!"
Bauer hissed at him. Alek started and realised he had almost walked into a crowd of German soldiers. Dylan grabbed his arm and steered him gently away from the soldiers, careful not to draw their attention. Volger glared at him, his patience obviously wearing thin. With Dr Barlow taking von Richthofen up to her old laboratory at Oxford to get his eye rebuilt (Alek felt mildly sick at the idea of some eyeball growing on a glass plate), they were marooned in London for almost a week. Dr Barlow had a town house they could hide in but getting there involved navigating the capital's public transport network.
It was not going well.
Much of the original network had collapsed when the beasts required to run them had died (no-one seemed to have any idea why) and what little parts of it the Germans had managed to retrofit with diesel engines were crawling with soldiers.
As Dylan pulled Alek through the crowded terminal towards the exit, someone bumped him. Alek was about to say something rude but was reminded of Lienz and kept his peace. The man barely seemed to notice. Alek silently cursed all impolite, illiterate and unwashed people.
They were within walking distance of Dr Barlow's town house. They had to rely on the lady fabricator's instructions as Dylan did not recognise the area. He claimed it was "too barking posh" considering he had spent his time in London in a "shoe-box sized hole with that stank of horse clart" to the extent that "we were afraid of lighting a match in case we ignited the methane".
To Alek, it looked like a quiet row of neat white houses with small, well kept gardens and simple plaster facades. The eleventh house down was slightly worse for wear. The garden was becoming overgrown and the upper windows needed cleaning. It was to this property that Dr Barlow had instructed them.
The insides were neat but dusty. The drawing room looked like it had not been entered for months and only one of the bedrooms was properly dusted. The entire place had a feel of neglect.

A glint caught Deryn's eye. She was in the drawing room, reading a book on airbeasts from the boffin's library, the only room that managed to look well maintained. She put aside the volume and searched for the source. There! There was something in the wastepaper basket. Deryn reached her hand in and was rewarded with a flare of pain. Bringing her hand out sharply, she found a shard of glass in her finger. She pulled the shard out and sucked the finger, tasting her blood's salty tang. Peering into the basket, she saw a broken picture frame. Curiosity getting the better of her, she pulled the metal frame gingerly out, careful to avoid its smashed face. It was of three people, all wearing bowler hats. One was a smiling Dr Barlow, her arms around the other two. One was a rather handsome man with blonde hair and an easy smile. The other was a woman with damp, dark hair and a tired but happy expression. Deryn noticed that despite her bowler, she was dressed in a hospital gown. In her arms was a tiny little thing with its hands outstretched towards its mothers face. On the frame it said:
"Isabelle Curling, Born 8th June 1906."
Deryn suddenly felt very sick.
"Dylan!"
She dropped the photograph in surprise and it fell back into the basket. Alek was in the doorway, holding something.
"Dylan. I found this in my pocket."
Deryn took the outstretched piece of paper.

"The Red Indian, Whitechapel, 12 tonight. A friend."

Deryn looked at Alek.
"You found this in your pocket?"
"Someone must have put it there when we were walking here."
"But it has to be a trap!"
"I don't think so. The Germans could have arrested me dozens of times on our way here. Also, they would not risk warning me so obviously that they know where I am. I don't think it is the Germans. Perhaps it is another member of the Society."
"The Society?"
"Volger was just telling me about it. Apparently my father set up this group devoted to the promotion of democracy inside of Germany and Austria-Hungary. It was how Volger knew von Richthofen. Its called the Solon Society, after the Greek..."
Deryn's blank expression ended Alek's classical explanation before it could begin.
"Anyway, I think we should go to this "Red Indian"."
"Really?"
Alek nodded.
"If there is a group inside of Germany that is committed to my father's cause, I can help them. I am their heir to Austria-Hungary after all."
Deryn shook her head. Why couldn't he just keep his head down once in a while? But then again, if Alek had kept his head down in Switzerland, the Leviathan would have been captured and Deryn would be lying in the snow with a German bullet in her head.
"What have the others said?"
"Klopp refuses to come but Bauer will and we'll need Volger to explain it all."
"All right. I'll tag along in case you get lost. Spent most of my time in London around Whitechapel."

The Red Indian was a scruffy looking place which had secreted itself at the end of a long thin alleyway. It was a "pub" which seemed to be the equivalent of a beer hall which meant there might be soldiers. But from the murderous looks the locals gave Alek and his Clanker comrades, soldiers would probably avoid the area. Dylan led them deftly through the streams of ruddy faced women and dirt streaked workers towards the crowded entrance. As they stepped in, a young boy with a mess of curly black hair stood up.
"Yer 'ere for Mister Rosencrantz?"
Alek had no idea what the boy had just said but Dylan seemed to understand.
"Who's Rosencrantz?"
"Clanker gentleman. Said he was lookin' for yer type."
"What?"
"Yer know. Clanker types and a British airman too."
Dylan looked slightly alarmed.
"An airman?"
"Well, are ya?"
He nodded.
"Yeah, I suppose I am. Where can we find Mr Rosencrantz?"
"Room numba' nine."
He stayed in front of them, his eyes expectant.
"He said yer would give me a shillin'."
Alek dug into his pocket and threw him a coin. The boy caught it deftly and bowed theatricly as they passed.
"Thank yer, gentlemen."

The upper floors held rooms, though Alek could not fathom their purpose. A drunk man in a waistcoat staggered out of one, his face flushed. A woman followed him and she looked at Alek.
"You're a bit young, aren't you?"
Alek looked at her confused. Volger stepped in front of him and the woman turned to him.
"How about you, honey?"
"No thank you. I have some other business to attend to."
The woman looked at Volger then turned to Alek. Her eyes widened.
"Christ! That kid is only like fifteen!"
Volger's own eyes widened.
"What are you implying, Madame?"
She shuddered and walked away. Bauer seemed to be in hysterics and Volger watched her go with a mix of disgust and anger. Alek looked at them both.
"What was that about?"
Volger flashed him a warning look and Alek dropped the matter.
Room nine was at the very end of the corridor. Volger pushed on the door but it wouldn't budge. There was the rattle of a chain and the door opened a little. An eye peered at them through the gap and then the door swung open. Despite his fashionable evening suit and the absence of his usual companion, Alek knew the man immediately.

It was Eddie Malone.

How many of you got the Rosencrantz hint? Anyway, that was a fun chapter to write. A bit long but I just couldn't bring myself to cut any part of it out.

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