“Damned toy,” a new voice said.
John turned with a diplomatic bow. General McWriter probably wouldn’t have come except for John’s wealth and political influence. He stared at the machine and tugged at a white walrus mustache that cut across the boiled-lobster complexion . . . or that might be the tight collar of his brown uniform tunic.
“Damned toy,” he said again. “Another thing for the bloody politicians”—there were ladies present, and you could hear the slight hesitation before the mild expletive as the general remembered it—”to waste money on, when we need every penny for real weapons.”
“The Chosen found aerial reconnaissance extremely useful in the Empire,” he said mildly, turning the uniform cap in his fingers.
McWriter grunted. “Perhaps. According to young Farr’s reports.”
“According to all reports, General. Including those of my own service, and the Ministry.”
The general’s grunt showed what he thought of reports from sailors, or the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Research Bureau.
“They used dirigibles, you’ll note,” McWriter said, turning to John. “What’s the range and speed? How reliable is it?”
“Eighty miles an hour, sir,” John said with soft politeness. “Range is about an hour, so far. Engine time to failure is about three hours, give or take.”
The general’s face went even more purple. “Then what bloody f . . . bloody use is it?” he said, nodding abruptly to the admiral and walking away calling for his aide-de-camp.
“What use is a baby?” John said.
“You’re sure it can be improved?” the elder Farr said.
“As sure as if I had a vision from God”—or Center—”about it,” John said. “Within a decade, they’re going to be flying ten times as far and three times as fast, I’ll stake everything I own on it.”
“I hope so,” Farr said. “Because we are going to need it, very badly. The navy most of all.”
“You think so, Admiral?” another man said. Farr started slightly; he hadn’t seen the civilian in the brown tailcoat come up.
“Senator Beemody,” he said cautiously.
The politician-financier nodded affably. “Admiral. Good to see you again.” He held out a hand. “No hard feelings, eh?”
Farr returned the gesture. “Not on my side, sir.”
“Well, you’re not the one who lost half a million,” Beemody said genially. He was a slight dapper man, his mustache trimmed to a black thread over his upper lip. “On the other hand, Jesus Christ with an order from the President couldn’t have saved those warehouses, from my skipper’s reports . . . and you’re quite the golden boy these days, after facing down that Chosen bitch at Salini. We can offer her a better one than her colleagues appear to have found at Corona,'” he quoted with relish. The senator’s grin was disarming. “What with one thing and another, grudges would be pretty futile. And I have no time for unproductive gestures, Admiral. You think we’ll need these?”
“Damned right we will. Knowing your enemy’s location is half the battle in naval warfare. Knowing where he is while he doesn’t know where you are is the other half. We’ve relied on fast cruisers and torpedo-boat destroyers to scout and screen for us, but the Chosen dirigibles are four times faster than the fastest hulls afloat. Plus they can scout from several thousand feet. We need an equivalent and we need it very badly, or we’ll be defeated at sea in the event of war.”
“Which some think is inevitable,” Beemody said thoughtfully. “I’m not entirely sure—but the news out of the Empire certainly seems to support the hypothesis. Admiral. John.”
“People can surprise you,” Farr said reflectively as the senator moved through the crowd, shaking hands and dropping smiles.
“Beemody knows when to jump on a bandwagon,” John said. “And he’s big in steel mills, heavy engineering—a naval buildup will be like a license to print money, to him. And he’s no fool; I’ve done enough business with him to know that.”
“Darling,” Pia’s voice broke in. She hugged his arm; the nursemaid was behind her with the child. “Father.” Her eyes went up to the aircraft that was circling downward above them. “I would love to do that someday.”
John put an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe in a few years,” he said. “Here comes Jeffrey.”