Precipice

by Thomas Webb

  Scarlet hugged herself against the cold, gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering. She clutched the hilt of her saber in a death grip. “If he’s lied to us…”

  “I don’t think the Gambler lied,” Athena said. She stood next to Scarlet on the deck, wind in her golden curls, cheeks red against the chill. “If he did, he’s damned good at it.” Her lips pursed into a perfect pink bow. “You know, I’m surprised the Oversight Committee even cleared us for this.”

  Scarlet squinted her eyes against the bitter airstream. “Are you kidding me? It’s the least they could do.” She gnashed her teeth in frustration. “Christ the Healer,” she growled, “I can’t take this waiting.”

  Athena put an arm around Scarlet’s shoulder. “Of course you can. Remember Indoctrination?”

  Scarlet’s scowl melted into a reluctant grin. “How could I forget?”

  “I never would have made it if it wasn’t for you,” Athena said. “You were my rock.” She hugged Scarlet close. “Now, it’s time for me to be yours.”

  “There’s a lot more at stake now.”

  “You don’t think I know that? My minder’s stuck in that prison, too.” Athena looked away. “At least I hope she is.”

  After Athena and Mockingbird had warned Mrs. Grant about McCormick, they’d gone in as part of the assault force to take him. They’d become separated during the firefight, and Mockingbird had been captured. This was prior to capturing the Gambler, who’d been cooperative enough to also provide a lead on Mockingbird. Last he’d heard, she was being held in the same location as Copperhead.

  A wave of shame washed over Scarlet. “I’m sorry, Athena. I know. I’m worried about Mockingbird, too. It’s just… these last couple of months…” The words caught in her throat.

  Scarlet and Athena stood together at the bow of the airship, looking out over gray cotton clouds. The air was ripe with the promise of snow.

  “Those sailors you brought onboard,” Athena said, breaking the silence. “They’re a strange bunch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen their like.”

  “And you may never again. They’re something new. ‘Experimental’ was the word Carlyle used, I think. We still don’t know where loyalties within the Department lie. If we can’t use DSI assets, these sailors are the next best thing. Trust me. I’ve seen them in action.”

  Scarlet found she’d grown accustomed to Carlyle and his shipmates. She’d forgotten how alien they were to her at first, and how they probably came across to people they’d never met in that same way.

  Athena smirked. “Most of them are pretty easy on the eyes, too.”

  Scarlet pulled the scarf around her neck tighter. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Scarlet allowed an almost-grin. “If you say so.”

  “And what about Bookkeeper?” Athena asked.

  Scarlet shrugged. “What about him?”

  “He’s ‘something else’, too, isn’t he?” Athena grinned.

  The mischievous twinkle in her eye reminded Scarlet of several years ago, back when they’d first met. Athena had never lost that spark she’d had before her life as an agent. Before all the deceit, before all the wet work.

  “He’s coming along well,” Scarlet offered.

  Coming along well? She cringed. Was that the best she could say? Abe’s transformation had been nothing short of amazing. He was green, but as much an agent now as she or Athena, and she had to admit, he was looking damned good these days.

  “He’s coming along well,” Athena said, performing her best Scarlet impression.

  Scarlet laughed for the first time in a long time.

  “He’s about as fine a piece of ass as I’ve seen in a while,” Athena said. “You’d do well to snap him up before someone else does.”

  Scarlet turned to Athena, who grinned like the proverbial Cheshire Cat. What did she mean by that? The sudden desire to smack that smirk off her friend’s face gripped Scarlet.

  Athena looked over Scarlet’s shoulder and pointed. “Speak of the devil…”

  Abe approached at an easy pace, his gait smooth, his eyes alert. He wore his sidearm like it was a part of him. Blackjack, Abe’s new minder and one of the first agents Copperhead ever helped produce, marched at his side.

  Blackjack wore a charming, easy smile. “What are you two ladies talking about?” he asked.

  Scarlet was glad to see a comforting, familiar face. Blackjack’s reputation as one of the finest DSI operators alive preceded him. Copperhead had spoken of the man often, having been instrumental in his initial training and worked alongside him for years.

  “I’m sorry, Blackjack,” she said again. She’d apologized to him so many times she’d lost count but still felt the need to reiterate. “We'd have come for you if we’d known.”

  "For the last time, girl, would you quit with that? No one knew I was in that shitty dungeon in Barcelona. Not like I ended up there on purpose, that’s for damned sure. I know you’d have come if you’d known, but today isn’t about that. Today’s about freeing our folks and setting things right.”

  Scarlet bit her lip and nodded.

  “Hey, Scarlet,” Abe said. “Morning, Athena.”

  “Bookkeeper,” Athena said. Her eyes had that sparkle again.

  Abe turned to Scarlet, resolve in his hazel eyes. “We’ll get him back,” he said.

  Scarlet set her jaw. “I know.”

  “Should have seen your boy here, Scarlet,” Blackjack said. “Sass-talkin’ the Vice Chairwoman herself. Said he was going on this mission, and that he didn’t give a damn if she allowed him to or not.”

  Scarlet looked at Abe, mouth agape, then back to Blackjack. “He said that to Vice Chairwoman Huffman?”

  Blackjack nodded. “Damn near got himself a formal reprimand in the process.”

  Abe’s cheeks turned bright red. “It wasn’t anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Blackjack said.

  Scarlet was about to reply when a soldier from the Intrepid’s crew arrived, Union-blue uniform jacket cut sharply to fit her form, saber on her left hip, navy Colt hung on her right leg. She stepped up and saluted the group, as all DSI agents held informal military ranks and rated the honor of salute.

  After greeting the group, she addressed Scarlet in particular. “We’re about a quarter turn o’ the clock out from the coordinates you gave us, ma’am.” Turning back to the others, she continued, “Major wants you all to the armory.”

  Scarlet nodded. The time had come.

  They followed the soldier across decks to a studded metal door bearing the word “Armory” in bold black letters painted across the pitted iron surface. The soldier ushered them all inside, where Carlyle and his crew were already waiting.

  “No way we’re going to miss this,” Carlyle told her when she’d asked them a week ago to join the mission to rescue her minder. “I’d be honored to meet this man everyone thinks so highly of.”

  Soon after, Scarlet formally requested Carlyle’s assistance through the Department of the Navy, and her request had been granted.

  The corners of Carlyle’s mouth turned upward when she walked into the Intrepid’s armory. River was there, sharpening her Bowie. She favored Scarlet with nod and a lascivious smile.

  The armory was row upon row of rifles and pistols, with sabers stacked in neat lines along wooden shelves. The air was thick with the smell of blade and gun oil, metal and wood. Crates filled with Gatling rounds sat on the floor. Rocket launcher shells in crates filled with straw stood lashed to beams along the bulkhead. In the back corner of the armory, the airship’s diminutive commander, Wilma Stevens, in full battle dress, chatted with Colonel Gregory.

  Scarlet’s admiration for Colonel Gregory had grown over the past year. Even though a DSI agent had been responsible for the death of his wife in Cuba, the colonel had slowly changed his perspective on the agency. She’d even heard rumors he’d been involved with a recent DSI operat
ion. When he’d caught wind of what Scarlet was up to, Colonel Gregory had specifically requested to come along on the rescue.

  The colonel’s change of heart hadn’t completely caught Scarlet by surprise. Copperhead had that effect on people, even ones who’d been badly hurt in the past. She also took the colonel’s friendship as a testament to all they’d been through and accomplished together the previous year in saving Washington.

  She was glad Colonel Gregory was along for this. She needed every experienced shooter she could get, and he and his Marines were some of the best.

  But something, or more rightly, someone, was missing.

  Scarlet, never forgetting the orphaned child she’d been on the streets of the District of Columbia, thought of her minder as family. Although they’d never formally adopted her, Copperhead and his late wife had taken her in and raised her. She’d come to think of those she’d served with as family, too, as dangerous as that was in this line of work. Now, they’d finally gotten a lead on where her minder was and were on their way to save him. But it seemed that with one problem not even fully solved, another had presented itself. A second member of her self-determined family had gone missing. The telling of the events around Colonel Montclair’s disappearance had hurt her heart to hear.

  Scarlet left her fellow DSI agents and Carlyle and his crew talking, making her way over to the colonel and Major Stevens.

  "He was gone when we got there,” she heard Colonel Gregory say as he stuffed rifle magazines into the front pockets of his uniform shirt.

  She’d caught the tail-end of his explanation of Colonel Montclair’s disappearance, it seemed. She exchanged nods with the colonel and Major Stevens, not wanting to interrupt. He’d told Scarlet the firsthand details on the Vindication the night before, but it was no easier hearing him tell it a second time to someone else.

  “And there was no sign of the colonel, sir?” Major Stevens asked.

  Colonel Gregory shook his head. “None,” he said. “Looked like his brother had set him up for some sort of duel. We found his brother, the Confederate general, dead. General’s widow and kids were a mess, inconsolable. The mother in law was there, too, a real family affair, I guess. She was a genuine bitch to be sure. Screaming that us being on Louisiana soil was an act of war on the part of the Union, among other things. The, uh…” the colonel turned to Scarlet. “What’s the word, Scarlet?”

  “Intermédiaire,” Scarlet said.

  “Right, the intermédiaire said Julius fled into the swamps. We searched as long as we could before we had to disappear. Julius’ stepmother is an evil old hag, but she was right about one thing, if the Confederates discovered us there it would have been an international incident. So we disappeared that same night, quiet as we arrived.”

  “Does anyone know if the colonel’s still alive?" Major Stevens asked, a look of genuine concern on her face.

  Colonel Gregory nodded. “We think so. Ayita’s absolutely convinced of it.”

  “Colonel Montclair’s woman?” the major asked.

  Colonel Gregory nodded. “And daughter to the War Chieftain of the Croatan Nation, to be more precise.” The colonel shook his head. “She was a mess when we found him gone. She and Julius’ samurai friend from Nippon haven’t stopped looking for him. She’s had damned near her whole army out searching.” Colonel Gregory looked at Scarlet. “I plan to take some leave and join them, soon as we get Copperhead home.” He gave the pistol on his leg an absent-minded pat. “I have to find him. The way we left things was… it wasn’t right.”

  Major Stevens locked a magazine into her new M4 and racked the first round into place. “You think he’s still alive as well then, sir?”

  The colonel nodded. “I do. Seeing his family again, his brother’s betrayal, Julius having to kill him… I can only guess what it must have done to him. But I do think he’s still alive.”

  Colonel Gregory’s eyes took on a faraway look. Scarlet wondered if he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else that Colonel Montclair lived.

  “If Julius Montclair truly doesn’t want to be found, he won't be,” the colonel added. “I can only hope he decides he wants to be and that we get there in time.”

  Major Stevens nodded. The alternative, that Colonel Montclair might die by his own hand, they left unsaid.

  Three knocks sounded against the armory’s iron door, and eleven well-armed Union operators’ heads turned in unison. The door opened, and Lieutenant Scott popped his pinched face inside. “We’ve sighted them, ma’am,” he said, addressing Major Stevens. “They’re ready for you all on deck.”

  “Outstanding. Thank you, XO,” Major Stevens said. “Sir,” she said to Colonel Gregory, “you’re the ranking officer. We’ll follow your lead.”

  Colonel Gregory shook his head. “It’s your ship, Major. You have command until we hook into the assault ropes. After that,” he nodded toward Scarlet, ”it’s Scarlet’s mission. Scarlet, why don’t you talk us in?” He flashed her a confident smile.

  Scarlet turned to face the room. Surrounded by rifles, pistols, ammunition, warriors, and two very overwhelmed armorers, Scarlet looked around and met every eye.

  “Thank you all for being here,” she began. “We have sailors.” She nodded toward Carlyle and his crew. “We have Marines, we have soldiers of the Union Army Air Corps, and we have four DSI agents. This level of inter-service, inter-agency cooperation is unprecedented. The circumstances that brought us all together today are remarkable, but they are no less remarkable than the two people we’re going in to save.”

  “You all sat in on briefings already, so I’ve no need to rehash what’s been said. I’ll just remind you that they have two of our finest patriots, both of whom have spent decades serving the Union, locked away in the belly of that place. If anyone is worthy of a rescue, it’s the two of them. Coming back with anything less than both of them, safe and secure, is unacceptable. Now, are there any last questions?” Scarlet looked around the armory, searching every face and finding nothing but confidence and resolve. She smiled. “Good. Now let’s go bring our people home.”

  28 U.S.S. Intrepid - 45.2538° N, 69.4455° W, November 1866

  Weighed down with iron body armor, ammunition, and her Chassepot, Scarlet stepped up onto the Intrepid’s main deck. Athena, Abe, and Blackjack were with her. Major Stevens, similarly outfitted, walked next to Athena. The major was accompanied by four of her own ship’s security detail and her XO, with him looking none too happy. Colonel Gregory followed. He’d brought along a handful of his Marines, all of whom had raised their hands and volunteered to rescue the spymaster who’d helped save Washington. Carlyle and his sailors, loaded down with their own gear and weapons, swaggered up the ladderwell to bring up the rear.

  Scarlet strode across the deck, approaching the bow of the ship. She took a knee. Several hundred yards ahead and below them, the behemoth cargo airship that served as an off-the-books DSI prison floated in lazy, circular patterns.

  Intrepid was built from the bones up with the latest in dark aether speed and stealth technology, all due to the prior year’s capture of a secret Confederate airship named the Raven. Given that the Alchemists’ Guild considered any use of the dark form of the element aether blasphemy, they would most certainly disapprove of the Union’s new technology. But thanks to that same forbidden technology, the lookouts onboard the flying prison would never see them coming.

  Major Stevens stood above Scarlet as she kneeled. “When we drop,” she said to her XO, raising her voice over the sound of the wind, “take her out far enough where you can’t easily be seen. Hold for one turn o’ the clock then move back into sight range. Keep one eye out for enemy stragglers and one out for our signal.”

  The wind whipped at the Intrepid XO’s thinning brown hair. He eyed Scarlet, the sailors, and the DSI agents with distrust. “Are you certain about this, ma’am?” He asked. “Mightn’t it be better for some of Intrepid’s security detail to go?”

  “We’ve be
en over this, lieutenant,” Major Stevens said. She jerked a thumb at her contingent of ship’s security behind her. “Why the hell should they get to have all the fun?”

  Scarlet looked up at the major. She found herself liking her more and more.

  The major reached up and patted her XO on the chest. “Besides, Scott, if anything happens, I know she’s in good hands with you.”

  Intrepid’s XO frowned and pulled his pea coat tighter around his uniform. He saluted before stepping off to follow orders.

  A moment later, Scarlet’s hair whipped beneath her head covering as the Intrepid shifted up to killing speed. Scarlet allowed her chest to expand and fill with air. She held it before exhaling then shouldered the Chassepot and sighted in.

  Like a hawk attacking a fat pigeon, the airship dove. Within seconds, they hovered, silent, above the DSI prison. Scarlet peered through the cylinder atop her rifle. The eyes of the two men leapt out at her through the looking glass scope. She saw the surprise on their faces as the airship appeared out of nowhere above them. Scarlet squeezed the trigger. Worked the bolt. Adjusted. Squeezed again.

  Crack, crack as the aether-tipped rounds broke the sound barrier and streaked, bright-blue, toward their targets. Both lookouts dropped like marionettes with their strings cut.

  The Intrepid’s crewmen swung the ropes out on a pivoting arm and dropped them with a hiss of hemp. Scarlet and her rescue party raced to the railing’s edge.

  Scarlet traded her Chassepot for an M4 on the run, exchanging her looking glass scope for iron sights and shortened stock more suitable for close quarters. She slung her new rifle behind her as she climbed up onto the railing. She reached out with gloved hands and grasped the rope before pulling it in and locking her booted feet around it. Then, she was sliding, speed just shy of reckless, toward the prison airship’s deck. She landed, absorbing the impact with bent knees, burning friction heat in her palms despite the thick leather gloves she wore. She moved off the rope, making room for the next assaulter in line to land then whipped up the M4 and joined the others already on the deck in setting perimeter security. Within seconds, fifteen of the finest fighters the Union had to offer shimmied down the ropes and landed on the airship’s wooden deck.