Alek gripped the control saunters and took a first step.
Volger's boot pressed his left shoulder softly, and Alek nudged the walker leftward. It was annoying, being controlled like a puppet, but from topside the count had a better view.
"Easy now," Klopp said as the walker leaned forward. The path led steeply downhill, into the long, narrow valley that the Herkules guarded. "Short steps."
Alek nodded, his grip tightening as the walker skidded down the slope a little.
"Drop the rear anchor, Hoffman," Klopp said into the intercom.
A rattle of unwinding chain came from behind them. Alek felt the tug of the anchor as it cut through roots and undergrowth, dragged along like a child's toy.
"Bothersome, I know," Klopp said. "But this way we won't roll if we fall."
"I'm not going to fall," Alek said, his hands tight on the saunters. With the engines at quarter power, the massive feet moved slowly - like walking in syrup.
The moon was just beginning to rise, and through the viewport Alek could see nothing but a dark confusion of branches. Volger's boots nudged him left and right with no apparent pattern, the walker's feet snagging on roots and underbrush. It was like being led, blindfolded and barefoot, across a room covered with mousetraps.
Finally they reached the valley floor, and Klopp rolled up the anchor. Alek still couldn't see anything but the branches thwacking against the open viewport, scattering leaves across the control panel. He wondered if they were stirring the treetops overhead, like a fish moving below the surface of a pond.
His mind began to buzz with doubts. Perhaps they should have picked a windy night to try this. Or why not wait for a rainstorm? Or the darkness of the new moon?
With a sudden clang of boots on metal, Volger dropped into the pilot's cabin.
"Get us down!"
Alek reached for the control panel, but Klopp's hands were faster - a hissing filled the cabin as the walker settled lower in the trees.
Moments later a blinding light swept across them.
The searchlight lingered a few seconds, then drifted into the forest ahead, continuing its lazy path among the trees.
"Get us moving again," Volger said. "They'll look elsewhere now."
"I'm afraid it may be a moment," Klopp said, his eyes on the gauges.
"Our engines are barely running," Alek explained. "Building our knee pressure back up will take time." He leaned back and stretched his fingers, happy for a break. He was starting to wish the frigate would spot them and give chase. A good run would be better than creeping through the dark at quarter speed.
The belly hatch opened, and Hoffman's head emerged.
"Pardon me, sirs. But do you hear that?"
They all listened for a moment, and Alek's ears caught a rushing sound below the engine's rumble.
"A stream?" he asked.
Hoffman grinned. "A noisy one, sir. Noisier than us, anyway."
"Excellent," Alek said, sitting up. "Up to half speed, Master Klopp?"
Klopp listened for another moment, then nodded.
Soon the Stormwalker was splashing down the stream, its engine noise mixing with the rush of water. The moon was higher now, the path shimmering in front of them. Volger was still up top watching for searchlights, but at least he wasn't standing on Alek's shoulders anymore.
The spray from the stream was icy; snow must still have been melting up in the mountains, even now in early August. Alek wondered how long they would have to stay in the Alps. He hoped Volger's mysterious preparations included a cabin with a warm fire.
The ground began to climb. They were nearing the rise where the land frigate stood guard. Alek lowered the engines back to quarter speed, and the Stormwalker became maddeningly lead-footed again. There were no sounds except the calls of night birds, the splashing of giant metal feet, and the babble of the stream.
Then a boot hit the back of his chair with a thump. "Volger! What are you - "
Something flashed in the darkness ahead. Alek froze, the walker pausing halfway through a step. He peered into the darkness.
"Should I shut the engines down?" he whispered.
"Don't!" Klopp said. "If they've spotted us, we'll need power."
Volger swung down from the hatch. "Germans! On foot, a hundred meters ahead. They haven't seen us. Not yet, anyway."
Alek swore softly, his hands flexing on the controls. He wondered which was worse, being spotted or sitting here frozen, like a rabbit waiting for a hawk to swoop. He leaned closer to the viewport, shielding his eyes. Something metal flashed in the darkness, and then he heard a shout.
"I think they just ...," he began.
Splashes of water sparkled white in the moonlight - a squad of infantrymen was running across the stream, shouting. One knelt on the bank and raised his rifle.
"... noticed us," Alek finished as a crack rang out. The bullet struck metal somewhere on the walker's body.
"Prepare to fire!" Klopp called through the intercom.
"No!" Alek said as his hands flicked across the controls.
"Alek's right," Count Volger said. "Those rifles might perk up the frigate's ears, but a cannon shot will remove all doubt. Just go through them."
The engines came to a roar beneath him, and Alek pushed the saunters forward. The Stormwalker's huge feet stretched out, splashing through the shallow water.
They charged up the stream, scattering the Germans like tenpins. A few bullets pinged off the armor as they passed, but Alek didn't bother to order the viewport closed. Vision was more precious than safety.
No stumbles now, no mistakes or they'd all be caught.
The moon had cleared the trees, the water shimmering in their path. A smile grew on Alek's face as he brought the Stormwalker into a run. Let the frigate try and catch them now.
No one could night-walk like him.