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Alternate GeneralsbyHarry TurtledoveThe French lieutenant looked like a visitor from another world as hestepped onto Torbay's shattered deck. He came aft in his immaculateuniform and, enemy or no, he could not hide the shock behind his eyesas he saw the huge bloodstains on the deck, the dead and the heap ofamputated limbs piled beside the main hatch for later disposal, thedismounted guns and shattered masts."Lieutenant de Vaisseau Joubert of the Ville de Paris" he introducedhimself. His graceful, hat-flourishing bow would have done credit toVersailles, but Captain Paul had lost his own hat to another Frenchmarksman sometime during the terrible afternoon, and he merely bobbedhis head in a curt nod."Captain Sir John Paul," he replied."How may I help you, Monsieur?""My admiral 'as sent me to request your surrender, Capitaine.""Indeed?" Paul looked the young Frenchman up and down.Joubert returned his gaze levelly, then made a small gesture at thebroken ship about them."You 'ave fought magnificently, Capitaine, but you cannot win. We needbreak through your defenses at only one point.Once we are be' and you--" He shrugged delicately."You 'ave cost us many ships, and you may cost us more. In the end,owe ver you must lose. Surely you must see that you 'ave done allbrave men can do.""Not yet. Lieutenant," Paul said flatly, drawing himself to his fullheight."You will not surrender?" Joubert seemed unable to believe it, andPaul barked a laugh."Surrender?" I have not yet begun to fight. Lieutenant!" John Paulreplied."Go back and inform your admiral that he will enter this bay only withthe permission of the King's Navy!"--from "The Captain from Kirkbean" by David M. WeberAlternate Generals Baen Books by Harry TurtledoveWisdom of the Fox (Werenight & Prince of the North) King of the NorthFox & EmpireThe Case of the Toxic Spell Dump Down in the Bottomlands & Other PlacesThe sscdonica edited by Harry Turtledove Alternate QeneralsEDITED BYHARRY TURTLEDOVEWith editorial assistance by Roland GreenThis is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed inthis book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people orincidents is purely coincidental.Copyright 1998 by Harry Turtledove, Roland Green & Martin HarryGreenburg. All stories copyright 1998 by the individual authorsAll rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book orportions thereof in any form.A Baen Books OriginalBaen Publishing Enterprises P.O. Box 1403 Riverdale, NY 10471ISBN: 0-671-87886-7Cover art by Charles KeeganFirst printing, August 1998 Second printing, January 2000Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York,NY 10020Printed in the United States of AmericaCONTENTSThe Test of Gold, Lillian Stewart Carl............. 1 Tradition,Elizabeth Moon.............................. 29 And to the Republic ForWhich It Stands, BradLinaweaver.......................................... 58 The Charge ofLee's Brigade, S.M. Stirling... 66 The Craft of War, Lois Tilton......................... 85 Queen of the Amazons, Jody Lynn Nye......... 97 The Phantom Tolbukhin, HarryTurtledove....................................... 113 An Old Man'sSummer, Esther Friesner ..... 128 The Last Crusader, Bill Fawcett.................. 146 Billy Mitchell's Overt Act, WilliamSanders......................................... 155 A Case forJustice, Janet Berliner................. 181 A Hard Day for Mother,William R. Forstchen ................................ 201 The Captainfrom Kirkbean, DavidWeber.............................................. 226 Vive I'Amiral,John Mina............................... 251Bloodstained Ground, Brian M.Thomson..................................... 275 Vati, R.M. Meluch......................................... 293 the test OF gold LillianStewart CarlThe old man lowered himself carefully onto the couch.Every day the pain in his belly grew worse. By winter he'd be at restin the tomb of his ancestors beside the Appian Way. He'd had a longlife, as soldier and merchant, and if Mars, Mercury, and Mithras calledhim, so be it.But there was something he had to finish first.Through the opening of the atrium he could just see Caligula's oldbridge between the Palatine and the Capitoline, a hard marble angleagainst the glare of the summer sky. A beam of sunlight touched thedoor of the room. The air was warm and still. Even so he felt cool,as though the rectangular porphyry panels and columns of his homeexuded a chill.Unless it was simply the memory of chill. He leaned closer to histable, spread out the scroll, and started to read what he'd alreadywritten.Ave. I was named C. Marcus Valerius after my father and tutored by thebest Greek slaves. At the age of twenty, in the sixth year of thereign of Nero Augustus, I was made a military tribune and assigned tothe staff of Catus Decianus, procurator of the province of Britannia.My mother and sisters wept to see me off to the very edge of the earth,but my father reminded me I was now beginning a brilliant career.The road through Gaul was long. The farther north I went the colderthe wind grew and the more sullen the rain. But the coarse humor of mylittle band of legionaries never faltered. One auxiliary from Iberia,called Ebro after his native river, jested even with me. At first Itook offense. Then I realized that Ebro had many campaigns beneath hiscorselet, while I had none, and I learned to return gibe for gibe.By the time we took ship across a rough gray sea and landed inBritannia I was wet through, unshaven, muddied from boot to helmet. Andyet I could do no less than to press on, doing my duty, with that Romanhonor which brought us not only an empire but the will to rule it.In Londinium I presented myself to Catus Decianus.He had the small sleek head and obsidian eyes of a snake, and barelygave me time to bathe before he assigned me a task."The king of one of the British tribes," he explained, "has latelydied. He bequeathed half his property to the Emperor. As well heshould, after all the trouble he caused us ten years ago. Thesebarbarians are a stubborn lot. All we intended was to disarm them, andthey had the gall to rebel."I nodded as sagely as I could."The kings name was Prasutagus," Catus went on."Of the Iceni, beyond Camulodunum. He has no male heir, so there's noquestion of the kingdom continuing. You're to make an accounting ofthe Emperor's property. I intend to deliver it to the governor when hereturns from his campaign against the Druids."Thanks to Ebro's stories I knew what he was talking about."The Druids are the priestly class. They have great power, no Gaulishor British ruler will make a move without consulting with one."If Catus was impressed with my knowledge, he showed no sign of it."So it's in our best interests to stamp them out. Suetonius has thembottled up on some island in the northwest, and their women withthem.""I'd like to pay my respects to Gaius Suetonius Paulinus. And myfather's. They campaigned together in Mauretania."Then you'd better get on with it. Tribune. Suetonius will be backbefore summer, his eagles draped with Druid gold. You don't want tostill be mucking about in a barbarian village by then, do you?""No sir." I saluted."Until I return, then, sir."Catus was already unrolling a scroll, and dismissed me with a wave ofhis hand. I reminded myself I needed his good will to advance mycareer and set out on the next stage of my journey.Londinium was little more than a cluster of merchant's wood and wattlehouses around a bridge over the Tamesis, although I could tell from thenew roads being driven outward in every direction that Suetoniusintended the city to be a hub of commerce. The road north cut throughmarshland.When I think of Britannia I think of water--the great river, themarshes, heavy clouds like sopping fleeces, unrelenting rain. Theretrees grow thick and forests thicker. But just as I decided Britanniawas the soggy frontier of Hades itself, the rain ended and a warm windrolled up the clouds. For the first time I saw the British spring, somany shades of green I couldn't count them and a sky of such rich blueas to put lapis lazuli to shame.Camulodunum, an old tribal capital, had been made into a colon ia forretired legionaries. This part of the country was pacified, and allthe building work had gone into a vast temple to Roma and ClaudiusAugustus. Just completed, it stood square and proud--and, I had toadmit, pretentious--among the mounds of the native huts. The nativesthemselves cleared away leftover stones, casting resentful glancestoward the old soldiers who lounged on the steps.Ebro spat onto the paving stones. He could say more with a glob ofspit than most men with words. But, as befitted my dignity, I didn'task whether he was reproving the native workers or our own veterans.At last Venta Icenorum rose before us. Black birds swooped and croakedabove huge circular earthworks.Human skulls grinned from recesses in the gate posts.The guards were tall blond men sporting fierce moustaches, hair sweptback like horses' manes, and massive embossed shields. They greeted mecivilly enough in their strange tongue, although there was a certainamount of sword and spear rattling as they conducted me through thetown. By standing as straight as I could I made myself as tall as... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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Gdybym tylko wiedział, powinienem był zostać zegarmistrzem. - Albert Einstein (1879-1955) komentując swoją rolę w skonstruowaniu bomby atomowej

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