To Slip the Surly Bonds Read online

  To Slip the Surly Bonds

  Book Two of The Phases of Mars

  Edited by

  Chris Kennedy and James Young

  To Slip the Surly Bonds

  Book Two of The Phases of Mars

  Edited by Chris Kennedy and James Young

  Published by Theogony Books

  Virginia Beach, VA, USA

  www.chriskennedypublishing.com

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States’ copyright law.

  The stories in this collection are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Chris Kennedy; Co-Editor: James Young

  Cover Design: Elartwyne Estole

  Copyright © 2019 by Chris Kennedy & James Young

  All rights reserved.

  The stories and articles contained herein have never been previously published and are copyrighted as follows:

  FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES by Joelle Presby and Patrick Doyle © 2019 by Joelle Presby and Patrick Doyle

  IN DARK’NING STORMS by Rob Howell © 2019 by Rob Howell

  PERCHANCE TO DREAM by Sarah A. Hoyt © 2019 by Sarah A. Hoyt

  TRIAL OF THE RED BARON by Richard Fox © 2019 by Richard Fox

  THE KAISERIN OF THE SEAS by Christopher G. Nuttall © 2019 by Christopher G. Nuttall

  THROUGH THE SQUALL by Taylor Anderson © 2019 by Taylor Anderson

  THE LIGHTNINGS AND THE CACTUS by James Young © 2019 by James Young

  CATCHING THE DARK by Monalisa Foster © 2019 by Monalisa Foster

  DO THE HARD THING by Kacey Ezell © 2019 by Kacey Ezell

  TAIL GUNNER JOE by William Alan Webb © 2019 by William Alan Webb

  RED TAILED TIGERS by Justin Watson © 2019 by Justin Watson

  ZERO DARK 30 by JL Curtis © 2019 by JL Curtis

  PER ARDUA AD ASTRA by Jan Niemczyk © 2019 by Jan Niemczyk

  * * * * *

  Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”

  and discover other Theogony Books titles at:

  http://chriskennedypublishing.com/

  * * * * *

  For all who have taken to the skies to protect the ones they loved…and never returned.

  * * * * *

  Preface by Christopher G. Nuttall

  When I was in my early teens, my grandma had a friend who had a keen interest in the American Civil War. He owned a small library of books on the subject, he was always interested in discussing the conflict…and he simply couldn’t understand why I preferred reading The Guns of the South, How Few Remain and even Stars and Stripes Forever to books that covered actual history. Alternate history, I loved; real stories, novels set during the real battles and the real aftermath of the conflict…not so much. I wasn’t sure I could put it into words, at the time, but it was true. I was always more interested in alternate history novels than real historical fiction.

  In some ways, they were often more interesting—and more informative—than pure historical fiction. The Guns of the South works, at least in part, because it allows us to see how a post-independence might have developed…and why we, looking back from nearly two hundred years in the future, would regard the Confederate States of America with horror. It also allows us to see how the influx of new ideas changes the conflict, both technological—the storyline revolves around time-travellers introducing the AK-47 to General Lee’s armies—and sociological. How does a society react if it discovers that its descendants passed (will pass) a stern judgement on their ancestors? And it also touches on issues—logistics, for example—that are rarely so clearly defined in more accurate historical fiction.

  On one hand, the core of alternate history has always been to look at how things could have been different. The flow of history runs, if I may borrow a concept from Dale Cozort, through a series of floodplains and valleys. The former are the moments when a single different decision may change everything; the latter are the moments when there can be little real change, whatever happens. A small adjustment in the opening days of the First World War, for example, may change everything; no amount of adjustments will save Germany from defeat in 1918, once the Allies gained a significant technological and material superiority. These choices are both defined by people—the leaders on both sides of a conflict, in particular—and the resources available to them. The latter constrain the former and alternate history allows us to see why.

  Indeed, it often sheds new light on history. The Battle of Moscow was decisive, I believe, in the sense that it probably represented Germany’s last chance to win World War Two outright. The Battle of Midway, on the other hand, was not. The balance of power—economic as well as military—was so badly stacked against Japan that an outright Japanese victory at Midway would not have changed matters in the long term. Midway was not the battle that doomed Japan. Japan was doomed by the decision to go to war. But Japan was caught in a vice and, again, alternate history lets us see why. Many decisions that—in hindsight—have been branded as foolish (Hitler’s march to Stalingrad, the Athenian expedition to Sicily) make a great deal more sense when one looks at the issue through their eyes. They were, in many ways, the best of a set of bad options.

  But, on the other hand, alternate history allows us to enjoy wars—and everything from romance to detective fiction—in a very different world. The panzers never drove through Dorking during the march to London, but alternate history allows us to imagine that they had—and consider what sort of world they would have made, if Hitler had invaded Britain in 1940. Those of us who enjoy speculating about how alternate wars might have gone—from an Anglo-American war in 1930 to a NATO-Warsaw Pact war in 1970—can study the forces and options available to the leaders and try to form a coherent whole. Or, for that matter, a second USA-CSA War in 1890. How different would American history have been, I wonder, if the CSA had gained its independence?

  And those who use alternate history as a setting for stories can pull together a vague background, then let the story flow.

  My own interest in alternate history began when I was very young, when I stumbled across a book called Invasion (Kenneth Macksey). Written as a campaign history, weaving fact and fiction together into a seamless narrative, Invasion sought to portray what would have happened if Hitler had tried to invade Britain. (Spoiler alert: he won.) My interest grew and sharpened as I developed both a passionate interest in history—thankfully, I didn’t get much history at school; that would have killed my interest stone dead—and haunted charity bookshops and libraries for alternate history books. I found it fascinating, to the point where—in my late teens—I founded an online alternate history magazine, Changing the Times and spent far too much of my time browsing alternate history forums. I enjoyed asking ‘what would have happened if’…and reading the answers. I had some good times, back then. We all did.

  And then I became a writer myself.

  Alternate history can be a tricky genre to write in. There will always be people who will argue—rightly, wrongly, does it matter?—that you got it wrong. There will always be people who will insist that the purity of your timeline is more important than story-telling potential. Yes, Hitler probably couldn’t have successfully occupied Britain; it’s still a pretty good setting for a story. (You can still get a pretty interesting flame war going on a number of alternate history forums by asking if Hitler cou
ld have succeeded). There will always be people who will have issues...

  ...And that isn’t even touching the people who will accuse you of having a hidden agenda, of whom the less said the better. Seriously. Don’t give them even a moment of your time.

  A good alternate history background flows from a single change, with the consequences neatly thought out and slipped into the text. In some cases, it looks at an immediate change—i.e. a fictionalised version of what happens when Lee doesn’t lose some orders before Antietam. In others, it looks at the long-term effects of a change—i.e. a story set in a world where Britain won the American War of Independence years ago, with the characters living in a very different world to our own. In some cases, it deals with the fantastic—time travellers, aliens, random acts of ‘alien space bats’—in others, it asks pointed questions about what sort of world might be created if things were very different. But in all cases, a good alternate history story rests on the characters, rather than the background; these are the people who live in the world the alternate historian made.

  The stories in this volume are all alternate history, focusing on air power and air combat. In some cases, the story follows an evolving shift from established history, as we know it; in others, the ‘point of divergence’ is in the past, only hinted at in the story. In all cases, they focus on how the world we live in could have been different. We may not live in the best of all possible worlds, to coin a phrase, but we do not live in the worst either.

  I enjoyed these stories. I hope you do too.

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Edinburgh, United Kingdom, 2019

  Contents

  Preface by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Friends In High Places by Joelle Presby and Patrick Doyle

  In Dark’ning Storms by Rob Howell

  Perchance To Dream by Sarah A. Hoyt

  Trial of the Red Baron by Richard Fox

  The Kaiserin of the Seas by Christopher G. Nuttall

  Through the Squall by Taylor Anderson

  The Lightnings and the Cactus by James Young

  Chapter 1: Bouncing Bettys

  Chapter 2: A Surprise All Around

  Chapter 3: A Lightning Cross

  Catching the Dark by Monalisa Foster

  Do The Hard Thing by Kacey Ezell

  Tail Gunner Joe by William Alan Webb

  Red Tailed Tigers by Justin Watson

  Zero Dark 30 by JL Curtis

  Per Ardua Ad Astra by Jan Niemczyk

  About Chris Kennedy

  About James Young

  Excerpt from Book One of The Psyche of War:

  Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:

  Excerpt from Book One of the Earth Song Cycle:

  * * * * *

  Friends In High Places by Joelle Presby and Patrick Doyle

  “Do thank that very charming Rear Admiral Fiske for his encouraging words. It shall greatly reassure my dear sister-in-law to know the Aide for Operations has made me the promise that my nephew shall not go on one of those dreadful escort ships. He’s to do something with aeroplanes instead.

  Did you know that a Russian princess has taken up flying? It must be a much safer occupation.”

  -Excerpt of a letter from the desk of the Second Lady of the United States, Mrs. Lois Irene Marshall

  * * *

  January 1915, Port of Hamburg, Germany

  “Chief Hays!” The surprise of hearing a familiar accent so soon after disembarking in Germany startled me.

  Europe might be in the midst of their Great War, but an American abroad had time to speak for a few moments with a fellow countryman. As long as it was truly only a few moments.

  My young officer charges had multiplied from the nephew of Vice President Marshall to now include a half dozen sons of successful businessmen and even one senator’s son. I personally had suspected half of the men’s families of terminal ignorance on the subject of aeroplane safety and the other half of a more cold-blooded calculation. The political value of a war hero weighed against the risk of losing a family member shouldn’t come out ahead, but if they were valuing a dead war hero against a reckless young pilot just as likely to crash into some Stateside barn on a dare if left at home…

  The well-dressed and older gentleman with a pile of his own luggage waved me down and, with a reluctance that I hoped didn’t show too clearly on my face, I stopped.

  My charges were halted too, so I wouldn’t lose track of them if I also paused. Lieutenant Marshall and Lieutenant Thompson stood outside a dockside bar waving energetically up at an aircraft fitted with pontoons now soaring overhead, bound, according to pier-side gossip, to embark with a German cruiser and serve to extend a squadron’s observation range.

  The rest of the Americans in our group would be inside the bar.

  The gentleman abandoned his baggage to his escort and waved delightedly at me.

  “Sir, I don’t believe—” I started to form my regrets.

  I tried for politeness in acknowledgement of the bespoke tailoring of his clothing but also firmness because this man, for all his upper-class Boston accent, was not my responsibility. And darn it all, I reminded myself, as a United States Navy Chief Petty Officer, it was high time I herded my new band of officers past the dockside bars and got everyone to work.

  The gentleman stood a few inches under six foot, boasted a well-groomed beard, and favored me with an expression of absolute delight. Behind him trailed an underling who earned a second look from me and a salute.

  A U.S. Navy commander in a crisp uniform with a look of much exhaustion on his face made the tracings of a salute back at me, and I dropped my salute as neatly as I could manage. The top three medals the officer bothered to wear indicated he’d served well and been amply recognized for it by senior naval leadership.

  “Tell the ship to wait for us, Edmunds.” The older man waggled a hand in the general direction of the busy dockside and not towards any specific vessel.

  “Yes, Ambassador,” Commander Edmunds replied.

  Any sailor could see the already outgoing tide and mark the emptying piers though. No ship’s captain worth the title, whether military or commercial, would be pleased to waste the ocean’s gift of easy sailing, I thought. But maybe for a senior enough passenger, he’d wait an extra dozen hours or so for the next tide.

  Edmunds gave the ambassador a blank look with the skepticism of his expression only showing through a slight wrinkling around the eyes and did not scamper off to deliver any such message to the, presumably, waiting vessel. But he did incline his head politely.

  “Ambassador,” he said, “I see you’ve already recognized Chief Hays, who you’ll remember was present with the Marshall boy during that Kamerun incident.” And I noticed that the gentleman was immediately distracted from remembering to repeat the foolish order and instead allowed the officer to direct the conversation. “Chief, this is Mr. Belmont who has been serving as our ambassador to Germany for these last few years.”

  “Sir,” Edmunds said to Belmont. “We really should be making our way to the ship.”

  “In just a moment,” the ambassador said. “I really must have a chat with the chief.”

  The commander quite obviously did not sigh. He turned and whistled to catch the attention of a pair of roughs wandering the docks and gestured for them to take charge of the gentleman’s luggage. Some German spoken faster than I could follow resulted in the men hefting trunks between them and hauling them off.

  The aircraft with the pontoons had vanished from view, but Thompson and Marshall continued their discussion. From the way Thompson’s hands moved this way and that, I was certain aviation was still the subject of their discussion.

  Lieutenant Marshall, tall, of neat dark hair and a striking physical similarity to Vice President Thomas R. Marshall, leaned in to listen with rapt attention to Lieutenant Thompson’s tales. Thompson came from a southern family and had flown on dirigibles and was eager to study the workings of aeroplanes wit
h their impressive speed and, perhaps, military utility as observer units.

  I dragged my attention back to the man in front of me.

  “My pleasure, uh, Mr. Ambassador,” I said. I had no idea what the proper mode of address was. Now twice assigned as part aide-de-camp and part keeper to the Vice President’s nephew, I wished there’d been some sort of instruction manual on handling these people who’d never speak to me in the normal course of events.

  Commander Edmunds gave me a sympathetic smile.

  “We really should be making our way to the ship, sir.” He gestured beyond to where the porters now carried Mr. Belmont’s trunks across a gangway.

  He had my sympathy.

  A returning overhead engine’s eager roar drew matching hoots of delight from nearly everyone around us. The seaplane buzzed overhead, and even Mr. Belmont grinned up at it.

  “Those the ones they were considering embarking on the armored cruisers?” I asked, not willing to let a source of information go.

  Commander Edmunds nodded. “So the Germans say.”

  Mr. Belmont squinted at it. “Is that what they intend to do with those? I wouldn’t know. German military secrets, I suppose.”

  “An extended observer, I understand. Just the one pilot instead of a whole zeppelin aircrew, so it’s easier to make accommodations for them onboard,” Edmunds replied. “They haven’t, at least yet, attached any rig for bombs aboard the aeroplanes either. So a tradeoff to be sure for the military utility of it all.”

  “Bombs?” Mr. Belmont snorted. “What a ridiculous notion. Good thing you’re escorting me back Edmunds, or you might give these Germans far too many ideas.”

  “I suspect they’ll have plenty of ideas on their own, sir,” I said with as much mildness as I could infuse in the words. People swirled all about us on the busy waterfront and most, if not all, were Germans. This was Germany after all. And some would surely have proficiency in English. Likely no one would repeat what I said and make my officers’ lives more difficult for it, but I saw no reason to risk offensive words against the host nation.