He took another bite of his chocolate, a tiny one. He needed the sustenance, but he did not need the shame of losing his stomach on the command deck. It was better to eat slowly and steadily, he’d learned. Especially as the day wore on and they rode the great heated columns of air deeper into the punishing blue sky. Even as he had the thought, the deck fell beneath his feet, and then bumped up hard enough to buckle his knees and send his stomach roiling. Wilhelm gripped the edge of his wireless console and focused on breathing steady, calming breaths.
“Bit of rough air, sir.”
Wilhelm recognized the voice as that of the zeppelin’s elevator operator. He was the chief Obermaschinistenmaat on board, and as such, was the most senior enlisted man.
“Indeed,” the captain said, “and it’s likely to continue for some time as we cross this desert—”
Another violent bout of turbulence rocked them, different from the last. Instead of being tossed up or down, Wilhelm was thrown sideways, towards the nose of the zeppelin. He reached out, hands scrabbling at the edge of his console, the cold metal biting into the wool-wrapped flesh of his hands as he fought to stay upright. Just as suddenly, he felt himself rock back aft, and then the deck bucked up beneath him in the usual fashion of heavy turbulence.
It felt almost as if they’d hit something solid, but they were thousands of feet in the air!
“All stations, report!” The captain’s voice cracked through the control compartment like a whip, and Wilhelm felt, more than heard, it echoing down the communication tube to the aft engine compartments.
“Rudders all clear, sir!”
“Elevator clear, sir!”
Wilhelm shook his head, forced his thoughts to coalesce and stared at his wireless console.
His lifeless wireless console.
He depressed the test tone switch.
Nothing.
“Scheisse,” Wilhelm muttered under his breath. “Captain, the wireless has failed!”
“Message from the engine compartment, sir!” A white-faced man burst out as he looked up from the communications tube. “The forward engine has seized up!”
Wilhelm swore again and hung on grimly as another burst of turbulence rocked them to and fro, rattling their teeth. Without the thrust from that engine, their forward speed would be greatly diminished, leaving them even more vulnerable to the British fighters that they knew were stationed in the Sudan below. But even worse than that…
“Sir,” he found himself saying, before he’d even realized he meant to speak. “The forward engine powers our wireless. Without it, we’re deaf and blind. If I go aft, while I can’t do anything about the engine, I may be able to rig an auxiliary power supply for the wireless from one of the other engines.”
“Go, Mueller,” the captain said, his tone firm, but calm. “And have the machinists report back on what they can do to get the engine started again.”
“Aye, sir,” Wilhelm said, and turned to follow the breathless messenger back aft to the engine compartment.
As soon as they arrived, Wilhelm recognized his own exhaustion and strain reflected in the drawn faces of the machinists frantically working on the seized forward engine. Only one remained apart, and he slumped tiredly behind the empty defensive machine gun mounts and wearily scanned the surrounding sky.
Wilhelm looked around and finally found Gustav crouched near the deck, peering up at the underside of the engine and uttering a low, steady stream of invective.
“Gustav,” Wilhelm said, his voice pitched low. When his friend didn’t respond, Wilhelm reached out and shook his shoulder. “Gustav!”
“Wilhelm!” Gustav said, shaking his head and straightening quickly. “You really are here. I thought it was just another vision.”
“Vision?”
“From the fumes. On long flights, sometimes we get them. What are you doing back here? It’s not a good time.”
“The wireless gets its power from the seized engine,” Wilhelm said. “I’m going to try to see if I can reroute it somehow. And the captain wants a report on how quickly you’ll be able to bring this one back into operation.”
Gustav shook his head, his already grim expression darkening.
“Not going to happen soon,” he said. “The reduction gear housing is cracked. She needs to be completely torn down and rebuilt, and I don’t have the materials or space to do that here.”
Wilhelm swallowed hard at the bitter edge of despair in his friend’s voice. He clapped Gustav on the shoulder.
“No matter,” he said. “We’ve got four more, yeah? But that makes it all the more important that I get some power to the wireless, otherwise, we’re blind and deaf over enemy territory.”
“Right,” Gustav said, straightening. “I might be able to help you there. Your wireless is powered off of this dynamo, here.” He pointed to an incomprehensible lump of metal sprouting wires in several directions, mounted on the external case of the engine housing. “None of the other engines have one quite as large, but there is a smaller, emergency dynamo on the next engine aft.”
“How much smaller?” Wilhelm asked.
“You’re looking at about half power.”
Wilhelm grimaced. “That will power the receiver, at least,” he said. “Though we won’t be able to transmit. Still, better than nothing. Show me this emergency dynamo, my friend. Let’s get our eyes and ears back up.”
Wilhelm and Gustav worked as quickly as they could manage. To Wilhelm, it felt as if his mind surged ahead at a feverish pace, leaving his body behind. Before long, his fingers began to lose dexterity, and he struggled to focus and force his exhausted body to obey and finish the delicate task. He could easily see how Gustav and the others complained of “visions” in this place. Between crushing fatigue, the grinding noise, and the ever present stench, he thought he might just go mad.
“There,” Gustav said, finally. “That ought to do it.”
“God willing,” Wilhelm said. “I’ll head forward and check.”
“Be careful on that catwalk, Wilhelm,” Gustav said. “And use your safety strap. We’ll be watching if you need an assist.”
“I don’t know how you stand it back here, my friend,” Wilhelm said, shaking his aching head.
“It’s what we do,” Gustav gave him a grim smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Now go. And call back through the tube if it’s not working. You’re too tired and addled to make two trips down the catwalk now.”
“The ‘tube,’ as you call it, isn’t mine to use, Gustav. You know that. I’ll do as the captain orders.” Wilhelm rolled his shoulders and settled his leather belt on his hips, bracing himself for the harrowing crawl back to the forward compartment.
“Well said, Wilhelm,” Gustav said. “Fair enough.” He clapped Wilhelm on the shoulder once more and accompanied him back as far as the useless hulk of the seized engine, then lifted his hand to wave farewell as Wilhelm squeezed once more through the bodies of the other machinists hard at work trying to find a solution that just wasn’t there.
Once more, Wilhelm hooked his safety tether onto the catwalk and ventured out into the naked sky. Though the whipping air took his breath away, it did help ease the fume-caused headache that had been pounding through his skull. He tried to breathe slowly through the fabric swathing his mouth and nose, as he pulled himself on burning, shaky muscles hand-over-hand to the safety of the forward compartment.