The Aeschylus by David Barclay Page B

sea now, prisoners of the ocean as much as The Republic. His heart sank at the notion.
    “Zofia. Lucja. Wake up,” he said. “Food.”
    Ari asked the man if there was any news, but when Burke answered with a rather rude, “Mind your own fucking business,” Ari shut up. He made a rather distressed little shake, and Dominik smiled to himself. He realized he was coming to like Ari. He was one of those harmless, socially inept pundits who seemed incapable of deception. Dominik figured that was the best type of man to be trapped in a pantry with, if one had to be trapped in a pantry.
    “Eat up, Ari.”
    By the time they were finished, the hours had already begun to dissolve. They talked some more and then slept. They stretched their legs and took turns walking back and forth, and they slept. They used the bucket, they played word games, and they slept some more. Every so often, Dominik would reach into his pocket for his pocket watch, and then remember that it had been taken when Dietrich and the fat Gestapo agent had found them.
    You think they want us to build a weapon, don't you?
    In the darkness, Dominik found himself returning to the question. Is this where all his years of knowledge and study had
led? As a teacher, he had been removed from such thinking, and he thought the university had as well. Surely if there were a place pure and unblemished by thoughts of war, it was there. But then, he remembered his walk each morning. He remembered that for the past two years, he had passed by the monument to the 76th Army Regiment on his way to work. A huge ugly cube, it jutted from the earth in orthogonal defiance of the peaceful Hamburg campus, some two blocks away. Engravings of soldiers lined the lower perimeter, strutting around the circumference. For all the pride etched onto their faces, the metaphor of men marching in an endless loop seemed lost on the monument's architects.
    This is what their country had become.
    You think they want—
    Something banged on the door, and Dominik jumped, wondering how long he had been sitting mute in the dark.
    A moment later, a large silhouette appeared in the entranceway. It gripped both sides of the frame, suggesting a man who was either drunk or seasick, and since all of the men on board were able-bodied, Dominik did not think it was the latter.
    “Do you believe this is my ship, boy?” it asked. “Well? I'm talking to you, pantry man.”
    “Yes,” Dominik said, confused.
    The figure nodded. “Damn right. I am the captain. I am Captain Heinrich von Unger, and this is my ship. Nobody tells me what to do on my ship. Do you believe that?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    The captain looked at Ari. “And you?”
    “Yes,” the man said nervously.
    “Very good. Then you gather up your children and you follow me. All of you.”

3
    Moments later, Dominik found himself in the open air, face to face with Dietrich once more. Only instead of taking
something, the good lieutenant was prepared to give. At the captain's insistence, Dominik and his family would be given a supervised escort to the deck twice daily for exercise. And though Dominik was relieved beyond measure, on some distant, secret level of his mind, he was also mollified.
    Which was why the lieutenant had agreed to Heinrich's request in the first place.
    A small taste of freedom can dampen—sometimes even extinguish—one's desire for the real thing. At least, for a time.

Chapter 5: A Mouthful of Sand
    The Argentinian Coast:
    Present Day

1
    Mason pushed open the church doors and stepped out onto the dirt. The sun was dipping towards the horizon, an orange giant against a backdrop of distant mountains. The church was more cellar than gathering hall, and the air greeted him like a welcome friend. He was assaulted by the smells of the sea, the sounds of his men playing football over the hill. It was beautiful down here, and unlike the others, he wasn't too dim to notice. Also unlike the others, being here always made him think