Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: Science & Adventure (3)
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“No matter how I look at it, they're all out of their minds.”
I muttered in dissatisfaction as I watched the Wright brothers sweating bullets while earnestly teaching Prince Heinrich how to fly a plane.
I'd deliberately gotten permission from Prince Heinrich's wife, Princess Irene, and his brother, Wilhelm II, to make him give up on flying altogether. But they both betrayed my expectations beautifully and allowed Heinrich to take to the skies.
Princess Irene had thrown up her hands in resignation, saying there was no stopping him anyway. And Wilhelm II just shrugged that Heinrich would do it no matter what he said, without even bothering to try persuading him.
'Of course, watching Prince Heinrich, I can kind of see why they acted that way.'
What I didn't like was that I'd end up having to clean up the mess.
But as the saying goes, weakness is a sin. All I could do now was beg the Wright brothers to ensure Prince Heinrich could at least save his own skin if an accident happened.
Thanks to that, over the past month, the Wright brothers had stuck to Prince Heinrich like glue, drilling every detail of plane piloting and safety protocols into his head.
Prince Heinrich was far from a model student and found the lessons boring, but my warning that slacking off meant no flying had turned him into a diligent pupil, hanging on their every word.
It wasn't quite enough to fully ease my anxiety, though.
'If I'd known it'd come to this, I should've at least tried making a parachute!'
But a proper parachute wouldn't be invented until 1912 by the Russian scientist Gleb Kotelnikov anyway, so it was just an empty lament.
By the way—and this is a side note—even though parachutes already existed, pilots in the early days of World War I weren't allowed to use them for a while.
The top brass figured that if they gave pilots parachutes, those cowards would bail out of their expensive planes at the first sign of trouble.
Of course, that was utter nonsense.
No matter how costly a plane was, it paled in comparison to the value of a skilled pilot.
That's why modern air forces have dedicated special units like search-and-rescue teams just for retrieving pilots.
The brass's complacent thinking led to the predictable disaster: plummeting pilot survival rates, morale in the gutter, and skill levels tanking.
It was inevitable.
Who wouldn't be pissed if they were treated like disposable cannon fodder?
In the end, it was like locking the barn door after the horse got out, but only then did they scramble to issue parachutes.
Just one of the many mishaps spawned by the all-new wonder weapons of World War I.
“Alright. That wraps up the boring lessons. So, can I hop in the plane now?”
Finally, the Wright brothers nodded as if there was nothing left to teach, and Prince Heinrich shot me a triumphant grin.
The day had come at last.
With a sigh, I nodded at Prince Heinrich to go ahead.
His face lit up like a kid who'd just gotten Mom's okay for a new toy, and he bolted toward the plane.
Men stay boys forever, but why was I the one dealing with it instead of Princess Irene?
“Baron, we'll go ahead and prep the cameras now.”
The cameraman who'd been waiting behind spoke up, and I waved him on.
What? Why's a cameraman here out of nowhere?
Simple: to film Prince Heinrich's flight for promotional footage, drum up interest, and attract more investment in aviation.
Just getting dragged around by him wasn't worth it.
Might as well have Prince Heinrich personally hype up planes for the cause.
'As long as nothing crashes, of course.'
I watched tensely as the beaming prince strode toward the plane.
Could Prince Heinrich really pull off a successful flight?
This era's planes were far simpler than future models, so piloting wasn't that tough for him.
He'd learned the basics in just a month, after all.
Still, I couldn't shake the worry.
Accidents strike when you least expect them, no matter how perfect everything seems.
Oblivious to my fretting, Prince Heinrich was buzzing with excitement to soar into the sky.
He flashed us a toothy grin, gave a thumbs-up, and climbed into the cockpit of Flyer III.
Thud-thud... rumble-rumble-rumble...
The prince fired up Flyer III, and the still propeller roared to life, spinning faster and faster.
The Flyer III lurched forward slowly, taxiing toward the runway.
Whirr...
Meanwhile, the cameraman kept the plane in frame, capturing Prince Heinrich and Flyer III on film with his movie camera.
The Wright brothers and I ignored the camera entirely.
We were glued to Prince Heinrich and the Flyer for entirely different reasons.
Vrooom...
After tense minutes, the Flyer picked up speed and raced down the runway. At last, its wheels left the ground.
“Whoa.”
The cameraman, seeing a plane take flight for the first time, let out an awed gasp as Prince Heinrich and Flyer III majestically climbed into the sky.
The Wright brothers and I breathed sighs of relief at the accident-free takeoff.
“One major hurdle down.”
“The plane's in perfect shape, wind's ideal. All that's left is a safe landing.”
Truth be told, that was the hardest part.
Anyway, Prince Heinrich flew Flyer III over the Wright brothers' lab-cum-plane factory for about 30 minutes.
Vroom...
“The prince handles it like a pro.”
“Yachts and cars are his hobbies. He's a natural.”
I'd warned him against aerobatics, so he just circled the runway. But the faint cheers from above suggested he was plenty satisfied.
Screeech...
The allotted flight time ended, and Prince Heinrich lined up for landing.
Thankfully, it was as smooth as the takeoff.
Only then could the Wright brothers and I finally relax, exchanging relieved smiles.
“Hoo-ah!”
Thrilled with the flight, Prince Heinrich yelled as he hopped out.
The cameraman, either pleased with his shots or awed by the prince, gave him a thumbs-up.
More energized than ever, Prince Heinrich ran over to me.
“Hans! Can I go one more time?”
I grinned back.
“Dream on.”
After the flight, Prince Heinrich grumbled about it being the last one but left reasonably satisfied.
He'd even promised to help pitch planes to the army brass later.
Though with how hooked he was, he'd probably lobby for them on his own anyway.
Hell, he might even push for aircraft carriers.
Not sure if big-battleship zealot Admiral Tirpitz would buy it, though.
I'd have to sell him on how air recon could spot for long-range naval guns or take out coastal batteries threatening ships.
But first, planes needed to evolve into fighters.
Either way, I'd love to see the Imperial Navy operating carriers someday.
Aircraft carriers of the German Empire.
What a romantic notion.
Back in Potsdam, I kept courting more patrons.
Not just Roald Amundsen and Albert Einstein from before—I even sprinkled cash on arts folks like Richard Strauss, whom I'd met at the crown prince's wedding.
It cost a pretty penny, but no regrets.
These investments would pay back in connections and prestige, things money can't easily buy.
Pretty solid for future-proofing, if I do say so.
Time marched on to July 1905.
As summer peaked, intriguing news came from the Russian Empire.
Tsar Nikolai II pledged to his subjects to introduce constitutional government, including freedoms of thought and assembly, and a parliament.
It was essentially the original timeline's October Manifesto, just rebranded as the July Manifesto.
Made sense—Bloody Sunday and Bloody Tuesday had hit earlier here, so the October one came sooner too.
Whether this would truly pacify the Russian Empire remained to be seen.
After Bloody Tuesday plunged the Russian Empire into chaos, Tsar Nikolai II's reluctant acceptance of Witte's reforms via the July Manifesto began restoring some order.
But unrest still flared across Russia, so Sergei Witte—chairman of the Council of Ministers, the empire's de facto prime minister in its first cabinet—remained swamped.
“The general strike in Finland showing signs of dying down?”
“Yes. The July Manifesto brought liberals back to our side. There was a small strike in Kiev recently, but it's already being quashed, so no worries there.”
“Phew, recommending you for interior minister was the right call, Stolypin. I can finally breathe.”
“You're too kind, Chairman.”
Pyotr Stolypin, who had rocketed into Russia's central politics far earlier than in the original timeline, humbly bowed to Witte's praise.
On Witte's recommendation, he'd become interior minister a year ahead of schedule, ruthlessly crushing revolutionaries and rioters across the empire with stellar results.
“Even the Dowager Empress is impressed and keeping an eye on you. Keep it up, and this seat will be yours someday.”
“Chairman...”
Actually, the day Witte might hand over the chair to Stolypin could come sooner than he thought.
Witte had shouldered the burden to save the empire, but Nikolai II and the nobles resented his growing power and were starting to freeze him out.
He was used to being disliked, but now it stung personally.
'And Count Lamsdorff got booted from foreign minister recently too.'
Not just Lamsdorff—Witte's allies were being purged one by one.
After decades in St. Petersburg politics, Sergei Witte sensed he wouldn't hold on much longer.
“If I go, you'll be Russia's last hope. When that day comes, hold the line for us.”
“I will.”
Stolypin gripped Witte's hand with steely resolve.
Yes, he couldn't let the Russian Empire crumble like this.
'First, end this chaos completely.'
Stolypin's gaze drifted past Witte to the list on the desk: names of those stirring up revolutionary mischief across the empire.
Lev Borisovich Kamenev.
Yuliy Osipovich Martov.
Lev Davidovich Trotsky.
'And...'
Vladimir Ilyich Lenin.
To bring peace to the Russian Empire, these thunderous red bastards rampaging everywhere had to go first.
And so, in August 1905, on Stolypin's orders, the Okhrana launched a massive arrest operation.