They were still arguing in the hangar bay when the airship lurched into the air with no warning. Anastasia caught herself on the side of her mech, and Piotr swayed with the long experience of a seasoned airship crewman.

"We're leaving already?" she asked.

He frowned at the hatch that led forward. "I'm going up to the cockpit to find out what's going on." Piotr glanced around. "Are you coming?"

Anastasia shook her head. "I need to strap my mech down."

"Do you need help?"

She shot Piotr a glare. "I'll be fine."

He accepted that and went through the hatch. This gunship was much larger than the machines he had previously been in. The corridor went through multiple bulkheads and hatchways before arriving at the control room. The three men inside broke off their conversation immediately as Piotr stepped through the hatch. Something about the sound of the conversation bothered him, but it took a second to sink in.

"You're Polish. Are you supposed to be here?" Even as he blurted it out, he whirled to leave the room. He had to get to Anastasia before they were made prisoners.

The man in the Russian colonel’s uniform stood behind him. He had a friendly smile that was almost sad, but the gun in his hand did not waver. "Please," he said, "don't do anything rash. Give us a moment to explain."

"So, we are your prisoners, then?"

The man shook his head. "Not exactly. Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

Piotr wanted to fold his arms and stubbornly remained standing. This way, he had a chance to maybe make a jump for the gun or dash for safety. He knew it was a futile idea. The hatch was narrow, and the man blocked it completely. If he stayed and kept them talking, perhaps Anastasia would realize what was going on and make a break for it in her mech. It wasn't a great plan, but it was better than any alternatives he could see currently.

The colonel caught him glancing around. "And don't make a move for the engineering panel. It was difficult enough getting this machine trimmed without any misplaced heroics. Please listen to what I have to say, and I promise you won't be disappointed."

Since he had no decent alternatives, and intrigued despite himself, Piotr took a seat. The seat closest to the door was the engineering station, but he kept his hands on his knees, away from the panel.

The man lowered his gun but made no move to put it away or to sit, instead continuing blocking the hatch. "As unbelievable as it seems," the man started his explanation, "my crew and I were not here as spies or even as prisoners. We were here with intelligence for the General. We came with a Hussar squadron who even now is assisting in his assault on Frankenstein."

His doubt must have shown in Piotr's face because the man smiled and shrugged. "It's true. I don't know how widespread the information is, but Frankenstein's forces have moved across this entire region. All of Transylvania and Western Romania was under assault, and it made sense to ally against him."

"You trusted General Morozov?"

The man smiled. “Hardly. At the time, it was expedient. That was why my Hussars were here, but not why I came. My interests are not sabotage or spying, but only one thing: ending this wasteful war between Russia and Poland."

Piotr gave a half shrug but kept his hands on his knees, not wanting to give the man any reason to wave the gun about. "If you say so."

"I do say so. My name is Colonel Mazur, and I've been in contact with elements in your government who more directly represent the Tsar's interests. We have been in negotiations with his representatives for a peace treaty."

"What? That's impossible," Piotr said before he could help himself.

"You say that because the Tsar does not negotiate his own treaties."

Piotr frowned but didn't respond.

"I think most of Europe knows the truth at this point. The Tsar is not truly in charge of your country or its government. Russia is controlled by several powerful warlords. I heard a little of your discussion earlier. You were urging the Grand Duchess not to leave herself in the power of one such warlord, General Morozov. What if I told you my goal was to free the Tsar from the clutches of another of those warlords, Admiral Ivan Mikhailovich Karpov?"

Piotr frowned. As an objective, that was commendable but also impossible. And Piotr himself had already said too much about Russian politics to an enemy.

"I can tell you don't believe me. But it's true. However difficult that might seem, it is my objective." The man took his free hand and reached under his jacket. He pulled out a cylinder several inches long. "I have in this canister the draft of a peace treaty, the contents of which have been made known to your Tsar. He has agreed to sign it, were he but free to do so.”

This entire line of conversation was so preposterous to Piotr that he couldn’t help himself. “That is ridiculous, not to mention impossible.”

“It’s true.”

“Why should I believe you? Political conditions in Russia have been the same for years. Why would they change now?"

"Because your Tsar is not a warmonger and sees no value to Mother Russia in continuing this conflict. You said something similar yourself not only a few minutes ago. I am not privy to all his motives, but I believe the cost of this conflict to the people of Russia has changed his mind about the status quo. Now he believes there is an opportunity here to make a change."

Piotr wanted to believe. He really did. He was loyal to the Tsar even though he knew that meant very little. A man with no power wasn’t worth being loyal to.

Colonel Mazur continued. "He thinks it's possible that he really could get out from under the thumb of the three leading warlords."

Piotr shook his head. "It wouldn't last. He has no power base.”

“He believes if the situation changed, if the warlords were weakened and he was free from their direct control, he could make an appeal to the people themselves. With a signed peace treaty in hand, the generals would have to defy the Tsar openly as well as the will of the people to try to continue the conflict."

Piotr shook his head again. "It won't be enough. He needs powerful allies."

The strange Polish man shrugged. "Probably, but I am not privy to all his secrets." Something about the way the man said it made Piotr think he was lying. He took his hands off his knees and folded his arms in a mild show of defiance. "Is that really all you can give me? It will take more to win my trust."

The man seemed to consider. "Very well. The Tsar has made contacts with some of the more revolutionary elements in your society, shall we say. I believe he's offered them promises of reform in return for their support."

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Piotr's eyes widened and he unfolded his arms. "Not the communists. They can't be trusted. They would sell out anyone, tell any lie, arrange any murder to advance their ideology. It's fundamental to their entire belief system."

"Perhaps. But the Tsar believes he's made a deal."

"I have to speak with him," Piotr said. "I have to warn him."

"You seem to know a lot about the communist movement."

"I know they preach high-minded ideals that any but the bluest of the blue blood could agree to. But when it comes down to it, they’re murderous cutthroats who will stop at nothing."

The Polish man shrugged. "Many people are willing to go to great lengths for what they believe."

Piotr shook his head. "Not like this. If the Tsar believes they are his salvation, then he is already lost.”

“If you need to speak to the Tsar, perhaps you're willing to help us get to him? Our interests are only peace."

"I'll have to think about it," Piotr said.

"Very well. But while you're considering, could you convince your companion to remove the gun she has at my back? I really don't think starting a gunfight in the air would be in any of our best interests."

Frank listened with half an ear as the colonel made his pitch to the Russians. He was a little unsure why the colonel thought they should involve them. It seemed like it would be easier just to have tossed them off back while still on the ground or simply clap them in irons for the duration. Although that might be difficult with the mech-riding girl. It was nice to know they had a flight-capable fighter aboard, and Frank would feel a lot better if it was on their side. So maybe the colonel had the right idea.

Mostly, though, he was consumed with trying to keep this machine aloft. It was a real handful, and what he needed most was a competent flight engineer.

"Look, I hate to interrupt," he called over his shoulder, "but I really need someone monitoring that panel. I think at least two of our engines are out of resonance."

The Russian officer was sitting at the flight engineer's panel, and he had flyer's wings on his uniform. Maybe he could make himself useful.

There was a murmur of voices and a shuffling of bodies as everyone moved around. Now the mech-rider girl was inside the cabin. She was carrying a gun.

In glances over his shoulder, Captain Lewis saw the Russian officer inspecting the flight engineer's panel, while the colonel was starting his explanation over again for the girl's benefit. She was cute, in a crazy red-head kind of way. Frank gathered that she was some kind of Russian nobility. He never paid attention to such things since Americans put no stock in them. But perhaps she would come in handy.

At first, Frank had been confused why the colonel was bothering with all this jibber-jabber. But as his explanation unfolded, it started to make sense.

When the colonel announced he had a peace treaty in hand, Frank turned to get a look at it. The sealed tube didn't look like much. Where had Colonel Mazur had time to get his hands on a peace treaty? And how had he been in contact with all these people he was talking about? The man sure did get around.

Eventually, the girl moved to sit in the co-pilot seat. "This is all too overwhelming," she said.

"While you're there, can you help me with a few things?" Frank flashed her a smile. "These controls really aren't laid out for one pilot."

She looked him over but didn't give much reaction, and Frank felt a pang of disappointment. Not that he wanted to tangle with Russian nobility. He didn't need the complication, even if Veronica wouldn't kill him. And she probably would. But it was still disappointing when his charms were not appreciated.

The colonel stepped up behind her. "Take your time and think about it. I really do believe helping us is what's best for your country. And your brother-in-law agrees. As you can see," he pointed out the window, "we are still in company with the assault force of General Morozov. So you don't have to feel pressured to make a decision."

She stared out the window at the massive zeppelins flying alongside them with some puzzlement. "Why are we with the assault force? I thought you were kidnapping us. Shouldn't we be headed for Poland?"

Frank shook his head and answered for the colonel. "Not in this unfamiliar barge. If we broke ranks, they'd have pursuit after us in nothing flat. Undermanned as we are, we wouldn't have the guns to fend them off. No, our best bet is to stay with the main force and play nice."

He didn't add that if they could pick up their Hussars, they would definitely make a break for it in the confusion of whatever action was going on at Frankenstein's fortress. He had passed the main assault force on their way to attack when he returned from dropping off Sergeant Golem's strike team.

That had been a big enough force to make a lot of ruckus. But this one was even bigger. They had four zeppelins and five of these fancy high-speed gunships. There had been a sixth on the ground, but it never took off. Probably mechanical trouble. A new type of craft always had teething difficulties.

"Won't they know you've captured this ship?" She addressed the question at the colonel instead of Frank, and he felt a pang of annoyance at being ignored. “When they radio back to the encampment, I mean”…"

Colonel Mazur shook his head. "No, all the radios at camp are having technical issues." Frank glanced at him sharply. All the radios in camp? How had... Then he thought about it more. Even in an army that size, there couldn't be more than a couple of sets at headquarters. It wasn’t like people just carried them around in their back pocket. A few snipped wires or a stolen vacuum tube could put the whole works out of commission.

Still, it was an awful lot for one man to do.

The girl, Anastasia, looked out the window again. "Why are we flying so low?"

From behind them, the Russian officer spoke up. "The Zeppelins are overloaded. I was in on some of the planning meetings. They're all carrying a heavy load and can't make much more altitude. The general decided to risk a run down Frankenstein's fortified entrance valley.”

Something in his voice made Frank glance back. The man’s expression was grim and Frank felt a twinge of worry. Flying in a tight pack of Zeppelins down something called a ‘fortified valley’ did not appeal. He hoped Mazur’s plan had more to it than that.

They were still crossing the main plains of Transylvania, with the western mountain range looming in the distance. He couldn't make out a valley entrance yet, so it must be a narrow one.

The luff engines had smoothed out thanks to whatever the Russian had done to the engineer's panel. Now he stood and moved closer to stand just behind the pilot seat.

"Did you get a look at the maps?"

"Just briefly," Frank admitted. "I flew out with the first wave to drop some of those invisible soldiers." He didn't admit that he hadn't really looked at the map but had just taken direction from a navigator.

"Frankenstein's valley is a long north-south alpine valley about ten miles into that mountain range. There's a pass that comes into it from the south and a long narrow valley that comes out of it from the north. That's where we're going in. It's fortified, but we don't know how. The general's intelligence was weak on point.”

“And he's still flying us right down it."

“The man may be overconfident in his fancy gadgets. Or he may know something he didn't share with the rest of us. Either way, yes, we’re going straight up that valley.”

Frank considered this. He needed to position the aircraft for a speedy getaway from the rest of this flotilla. But he needed to do it without arousing suspicion.

"Look, can one of you get on that radio set?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a station in the back of the cockpit. "They've been signaling us for a while now. I'm sure we've aroused suspicion. As long as I stay in formation, they'll just assume we're having some kind of technical difficulty. But I want to get us higher, towards the edge of the formation, and I don't want them to get itchy trigger fingers."

"That makes sense," the Russian officer, who had given his name as ‘Piotr’, said. "Very well." He moved to the back of the cockpit and busied himself over the transceiver.

Frank felt a twinge of worry. He didn't recognize the code the man was sending, so he couldn't be sure they weren't being ratted out. He comforted himself by keeping a close eye on the formation around them for any signs of hostility. There was nothing, other than the nearest Zeppelin finally stopped flashing a signal light at them.

A few minutes later, the Russian moved back to stand behind Frank's chair. "I told them we have a little instability in one of our luff engines, and we want to gain some altitude. They told us not to get more than 100 feet above the lead Zeppelin."

"Nice!" Frank flashed the man a thumbs up. "Well, trim us for lift then, and let's see if we can't get a better vantage point."

After they maneuvered to the top of the formation, the cockpit chatter died down, other than the occasional requests Frank gave for Anastasia to adjust one of their trim vanes, or the Russian officer commenting on luff engine status. When they came up on the narrow valley, Frank commented that it didn't deserve the name. More like a canyon, or a really big arroyo.

When the attack came, they had very little warning.

Frank spotted a flicker of movement on the valley floor, and then the other gunships reacted. Some of them veered, while others dove to get under the zeppelins.

"Full lift, now!" Frank yelled to the Russian officer. Whatever faults the man might have, he certainly had not been inattentive. The luff engines ramped to full power immediately, and Frank was slammed back into his seat. His breath whoofed out of him. To his right, Anastasia let out a small gasp. The gunship shot upward, and Frank wrestled with the controls to get them moving to the side. They needed to clear the valley lip.

Just before they made it, the world exploded.