The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney

by Michael White

  “Twenty men.” said Victoria.

  “Yes. Twenty men.” repeated the minister.

  “Then I take it he has ignored the brief, the current Lord Corrigan?”

  “Not at all.” said Churchgrove, “But we do believe that Lord Corrigan may have been in touch with several industrialists in the city and increased the technology of his soldiery somewhat. We cannot be sure as his estate seems to be running some form of cloaking technology that we are unable to descramble.”

  “And for this you have decided he must die?” she said,

  “You have not met him.” said Churchgrove, a smile playing across his face that did not touch his eyes. “He feels dangerous. We brought him in you see. Formal request for a meeting. He gave absolutely nothing away of course other than he only had twenty men and that they spent all day drilling and that was that.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Absolutely not. He must be disposed of, Miss Neaves. I have a gut instinct about him that tells me that he is trouble and that this best corrected before the situation becomes something else entirely.”

  “When?” she said, and Churchgrove looked at his watch.

  “It is before nine thirty yet. By this evening will suffice.”

  “Wow.” said Romney, “You don’t hang around, do you?”

  “No time like the present.” said Churchgrove. “It will be of great satisfaction to me to report to her Majesty herself that our little problem has been resolved.”

  “Anything else I need to know?” she asked, standing. “My ship stands ready.”

  “Ah.” said the minister, “I have taken the liberty of having your zeppelin towed back to your home. I feel a stealthy approach will be of more use. I have a skimmer on the roof fitted with new highly secret engines. It can mist too, which you will probably need once you encounter the cloaking device surrounding Corrigan hall.”

  “I see.” she said but as she spoke the lift chimed again and a small man in a laboratory coat appeared and crossed the dome at a fast pace, carrying a piece of paper with him which he passed to the minister who frowned at it briefly before letting it drift to the table.

  “Three more surface eruptions, minister!” the curious looking man shouted but Churchgrove just smiled. “I am sure it is nothing.” he said, “But I will come and take a look through the long distance scope shortly.”

  ‘That is nearly fifty in the last three days.” he said, “And Deimosan activity is huge. I don't know what…”

  “Yes. yes.” said Churchgrove with irritation, pushing the man away. “I am sorry Victoria. I really must go. The automatons will guide you to the skimmer. Good luck and I hope we meet again soon.”

  “Thank you minister.” she smiled, I am sure we will.”

  “It is good that our Queen has one such as you to depend upon.” he smiled, “Your devotion to your duty makes you her rock I suspect.”

  “Oh I don't think so.” she smiled as the minister was more or less dragged away by the man in the laboratory coat, “More a thorn I would have thought.”

  He scowled and was led away as one of the automata from by the lift began to walk across the dome towards them. Victoria examined it as it approached. The arms and legs of the creature were augmented with visible steel plates and joints. The chest was silver plated, and the head of the device was a man's face around which metal plates interfaced with its ocular device, its right eye showing tiny cogs and pistons, which whirred almost silently as it focused on them.

  “I have been sent to guide you to the skimmer.” it said, it’s voice metallic, the voice box itself hidden by small brass covered pistons and joints.

  “Very well.” said Victoria, “Escort us.”

  They followed it to the lift but as they approached the doors a wide circular door irised open in the wall of the dome to reveal beyond that a small private zeppelin tower that was attached to the top of the roof. At the end of the strip sat a small skimmer ship, the hatch already open. Steam hissed from the docking couplings, the silver steel of the skimmer’s hull shining in the weak sunlight that was plagued by drifting clouds of smog, steam and smoke.

  “It’s a dart ship.” gasped Romney, “These things aren’t meant to actually exist.”

  “Well let’s hope that we get to keep it when we are done.” she smiled as she left the now stationary automaton behind them and climbed the ramp into the ship. The ramp closed behind her as she entered. Victoria glanced at the controls and sat down at the console.

  “Skimmer craft identified.” came a voice from the console in the cockpit, “You are cleared for flight.”

  “Thank you.” said Victoria through the microphone, deliberately ignoring all official protocols and then cutting the power to the microphone and speakers altogether. There was a hiss as the docking clamps released and she edged the ship out across the centre of London, heading north by northwest towards Abbott Bowthorpe.

  “When are we out of the A1 Security zone?” asked Romney casually.

  “Two seconds ago.” she smiled.

  “Wow that was quick!” said the demon, “Shall we see just what this beauty has got?”

  “Let’s.” she laughed and pushed the acceleration paddle as hard as she could.

  The surge of power threw her back into the chair as the dart ship shot forward, racing across London, which it was rapidly leaving behind them already.

  “Oh my.” said Romney. “I want a go.”

  “Not while I am on board you’re not.” she said, “You can fly it on your own.”

  “Spoilsport.” he laughed.

  The ship shot towards Abbot Bowthorpe, the ground below racing beneath it.

  “Do you believe him?” asked Victoria and Romney was silent for a while.

  “About the Dependables?” asked Romney.

  “Yes.”

  “Well we had the reason for the meeting either to be we were making too much noise and they wanted one way or another to bring us to heel, or something to do with the government inspectors on Horsell Common.”

  “Well we were more or less correct on our first assumption really.” said Victoria, “I think perhaps our preoccupation with the inspectors on the common was just a case of us jumping to the wrong conclusion.”

  “I think we need to apply ourselves to good old Lord Corrigan.” he said. “Or is it Major Corrigan?”

  “Both really.” she smiled, “Though I am wary not so much as to what they have told us as to what they have not.”

  “True, Boss. The details on the cloaking device and the increases of the tech to his soldiers all seems a little bit vague.”

  “Definitely our area though.” laughed Romney, “Augmentations or the like and that's us.”

  “It may not be augmentations.” she said, “Could be automata.”

  “Still one for us.” he said.

  “Well if he has been running automaton conversion on his men then he deserves all that he gets.”

  “I’m with you on that one, boss. How far away are we?”

  Victoria glanced at the navigational engine on the dashboard.

  “Twenty miles. I can get it up on the scope.”

  “At twenty miles?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes. looks like it.” she said and pushed a switch in front of her. Instantly a picture of a small baronial hall came into view, the castled walls and turrets resembling a castle more than a mansion.

  “Certainly looks military.” said Romney, “I can’t believe we can scope it from twenty miles away though.”

  “Well there it is.” said Victoria, but as they examined the picture she saw that the air around the building seem to ripple almost, the sight of the building shimmering and splitting.

  “Draw the scope back a little.” he said and Victoria moved a small slider on the dashboard back. As she did so the view of the building shrunk, though the air around it still rippled, the building looking fluid.

  “It’s cloaking the light.” she said quietly, “That’s
advanced.”

  “Advanced?” said Romney, “It’s more than advanced. It’s impossible. How do you mist an entire castle?”

  “I don’t know.” she said, “But I think we need to be a bit more cautious of our flight path to Abbott Bowthorpe. I am slowing our approach.”

  “I get a bad feeling about this, boss. You were right. I don’t think we have been given the whole picture.”

  “I have searched the cloud and it is no use whatsoever. It tells me nothing at all other than what Churchgrove has told us already. In fact, it is remiss on most of the salient points that he shared with us. It is almost as if any data on him has been very carefully edited.”

  “What’s our time of arrival?”

  “Five minutes at this speed.” she said.

  “Plan of attack?” said Romney.

  “Well I was thinking of knocking on the front door and asking for Lord Corrigan and then when he appears I will shoot him.” she laughed.

  “We wait for dark?”

  “I don’t think we will.” she said, “All we know is Corrigan has been hobnobbing with city industrialists and he has a small private army of twenty men.”

  “Well that’s what we have been told.” said Romney, “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “Precisely.” she said. “So if we try and get a feel for the situation before we act then all the better. The more we know the more precise we can be.”

  “Sounds good, boss. Just be careful of that misting cloak. It looks odd to me. Feels odd too, if you see what I mean.”

  “I am misting us now.” she said. “I suspect the quality of concealment in this ship is of the highest standard.”

  “I imagine so. What is the radius of the mist about Corrigan Hall?”

  “I can only estimate it.” she said again moving the scope with the paddles and sliders on the dashboard, “It looks like two miles in circumference though, which is the entire estate I should imagine.”

  “Wow.” said Romney, “That’s huge.”

  “Well we will cross it in two minutes.” she said, “I am slowing the ship down to sub cruise speed.”

  “Steady and slow.” he said and they fell into silence as they looked through the cockpit as the turrets of Corrigan Hall appeared before them, the air shimmering oddly ahead of them.

  Crossing into misted zone in thirty seconds.” she said, “Can you scan, Romney?”

  “I already tried.” he said, “All I can tell you for sure is that there is no supernatural activity at all. Nothing. Whatever is running that mist is pure tech. Nothing to do with the arcane. Beyond that I am blind.”

  “Okay.” she said, turning to look at the hatch controls when the ship shuddered. The cabin lights flickered and her stomach flipped as the zeppelin plummeted about thirty feet before recovering, the shuddering ceasing just as suddenly as it had begun and the cabin lights flickered back on.

  “What was that?” asked Romney but before she could answer the ship shook again, only harder this time and for longer. There was a sensation of falling and then the lights steadied again. “Turn us around, Victoria.” he shouted into her head, “The mist surrounding the hall is draining all power from the ship.” She pulled at the control stick just as the ship dipped again but this time the lights stayed off.

  Through the cockpit window she could see the ground rushing up to meet them, trees bending as the ship rushed past them, battering at the hull of the dart ship.

  “Pull back the nose, Victoria!” shouted Romney and she grabbed the stick and using all of her augmented strength forced the nose of the ship up, sliding it through the trees, all power now gone from the craft as it glided twenty feet above the ground and burst through the trees, the lawn of the baronial hall ahead of them, the hall itself beyond that. It seemed terribly near she thought.

  “Use the lawn!” shouted Romney and she released the control stick slightly, pushing the ship down at an angle, the lawns racing up to meet them, the nose of the dart ship pointing at the sky. At the last second as the ground rose ahead of her she jarred the stick back again and there was a loud crunch as the tail of the dart ship hit the ground.

  “Brace!” yelled Romney and she grabbed the console to steady herself, her augmented strength holding her upright as the nose of the ship joined its tail on the ground, the bulwarks screeching and groaning as the spine of the ship shattered as the zeppelin skidded across the lawn leaving a wide rutted trench behind it as it did so. It was slowing though and Victoria breathed a sigh of relief as the ship made a loud crunching sound and with several loud groans and creaks that sounded almost like death knells, came to a sudden halt. Instantly the hatch detonated out from the wall of the ship and she staggered forward, tripping over the wreckage and falling face down onto the grass.

  She pushed herself up on all fours, breathing heavily and running diagnostics on all her systems as she paused, facing the ground. All systems were, she was pleased and a little surprised to discover running fine.

  “Well.” said a deep, precise voice from somewhere in front of her. “That seems to have done for the ruddy lawn then, doesn’t it?”

  She looked up to see a tall man staring down at her as if she was some sort of insect that he was about to crush. His hair was steely grey, his chest broad. He had a military bearing. She knew that the cloud search she had run on him had placed him as sixty eight years old, but she thought that he did not look a day over forty. Her head spun a little but she stood up, looking over her shoulder at the wreckage of the dart ship behind her. It was almost in two pieces, the fuselage crushed in the middle. It would clearly never fly again.

  “I hope they don’t want to charge us for that.” said Romney.

  “Lord Corrigan?” asked Victoria, holding her hand. He sniffed loudly and stared at her for a moment.

  “Major Corrigan.” he corrected her. Only then did he shake her hand. He had a loose grip and it was but the briefest of handshakes.

  “I am Victoria Neaves of the Internal affairs department.” she lied, “I have been requested to make a spot check on the condition and complement of the regiment of the Dependables.”

  “I have not been informed of any such visit.” he sneered.

  “That will be why it is a spot visit.” she smiled sweetly. “Tell me Lord Corrigan.” she continued, noticing the twitch at the corner of his mouth as she used the title he seemed not to prefer, “What is the misting device over the hall? I fear it has interfered with the calibrations of my government ship.”

  “I told you to call me Major.” he said angrily, “Either you are hard of hearing or just plain stupid. Which is it my dear?”

  “Neither.” she said, “Only you aren’t actually a member of the British army any more are you, Lord Corrigan? You are no more a Major than I am.” She smiled again as the Major’s face turned crimson but she walked past him towards the hall, ignoring him completely. “Shall we begin the inspection then?” she asked, “Seeing as how you don’t seem to want to answer my question about the misting device then perhaps it is best if I work things out on my own.”

  “You will do no such thing.” he snarled from behind her. She did not see what he did but from the hall before them two figures strode into view, marching towards her rapidly. “Meet but two of the ten strong complement of the Abbott Bowthorpe Dependables.” he said, and she drew to a stop as they approached.

  She used her augmented vision to zoom in to them as they drew closer. She did not have to refocus much though as they strode towards her rapidly. At first appearance they looked like animated suits of armour, visors down and black in colour. At the eye slit in the visors though twin red lights shone, reflecting off the dark black armour.

  The helmets were closed. The legs, arms and chest plates all looked reinforced. The joints she saw were of small pistons and cogs, a hissing sound coming from the creatures as they approached, stomping heavily across the lawn. She glanced at the black armoured fists of each and saw pulse weapons built into several fingers
of each hand.

  “Their tech looks like yours, boss.” said Romney and Corrigan laughed briefly.

  “Nothing like hers, Mister Romney.” he said, the smile gone from his face already as if it had never been there at all, “Nothing like hers at all. They are my Dependables. I refer to them as my “knights” which is very appropriate, don’t you think?””

  “No need for the “Mister” thing.” said Romney. “We are not in the army now.” he paused slightly, “And oh yes! Neither are you, are you?”

  Corrigan scowled.

  “Take them to the banqueting hall.” he snarled and the two black armoured soldiers grabbed an arm each and began to drag her across the grass towards the building.

  “I will let them push me only so far.” she said in her mind and Romney grunted in reply, reluctant to speak now he knew Corrigan could hear him.

  She was dragged through a wide wooden door in the wall of the hall and along several empty corridors until they turned a sharp right and they entered a long wide hall, in the centre of which was a long wide wooden table, many chairs placed along its length. The walls were of granite blocks and mortar, though they were hardly visible as shields, heralds and flags of various design were placed about the walls, interspersed with hunting trophies of glaring boar and preposterously antlered deer. The two armoured creatures forced her down into a chair at the end of the table whilst Corrigan sat himself at the other end at its head. As she was forced down the two armoured soldiers forced her arms out onto the table and as they did so two manacles spiralled from the table top and fixed her arms to the table, holding her still.

  “You are going to let them do that?” asked Romney.

  “I suggest she has little choice sir.” laughed Corrigan at the head of the table.

  “We shall just see what’s next first.” she smiled as if she was merely out for a stroll, and as she did so Corrigan stood and walked towards her.

  “My soldiers.” he said, and as he did so more of the armoured creatures began to file through the door. Most of them were the same colour armour as the ones she had already encountered. Most were as black as night, but there were several others in different shades. Two were bronze and there were blue and red shades too. They lined up along each wall, facing towards the table that she was manacled to. Eventually they stopped and she counted ten of them.