The Steam-Powered Sniper in the City of Broken Bridges (The Raven Ladies Book 2)

by Cassandra Duffy

  Apparently sanity was a relative term in the City of Broken Bridges.

  Her father refused to give her a patrol anywhere near the beachhead. He also entrusted her care to Roger, stating he needed someone to look after the dog while he was in the command bunkers at the front. Roger cowered and whimpered incessantly when the Slark bombarded the human fortifications from Alcatraz, which happened three or four times a day, but he didn’t seem to like being away from a Marceau for too long. Claudia suspected Roger was supposed to look after her too.

  Claudia didn’t figure out until Esme and Olivia were both gone that she hadn’t developed any friendships beyond them, which was a shame since she really could use someone other than her father to talk to about her entire romance life’s brilliant collapse. Roger was a surprisingly good listener on their long patrols together around the base of the Golden Gate Bridge entrance. They were the two things her father couldn’t stand to lose and so he’d ordered them away from danger to watch out for each other. That was his way. Claudia was glad for the company and the sympathetic ear.

  Claudia and Roger were discussing where Claudia should live while they patrolled one of the many old bike routes along the wooded area on the northern shore, just east of the bridge. She didn’t want to stay in the hospital room anymore. She’d moved from that room into Esme’s house the last time she’d left the tower, but obviously that wasn’t an option anymore. She couldn’t imagine taking one of the houses or apartments in the subterranean districts, nor did she feel like moving into her father’s home. That left requesting a different room in the tower or joining the other Irradiated in their above ground tenements. Neither option was particularly appealing. Roger barked once as his only contribution. Claudia came to the slow realization that the real reason she couldn’t find a comfortable place in the City of Broken Bridges was that she viewed her position there as being temporary. Even before Olivia relayed the full encounter with Dylan and her Voron Dagger squad, Claudia always felt like the Ravens would eventually come to reclaim her. Roger didn’t have much to say on the conundrum.

  Her real problem was that she didn’t plan well. She was a reactionary. Even her simplistic ambush plan to attack the Slark supply convoy required Liam to finish it. Her grandest plan of leaving the Ravens to find her father could only generously be said to have three steps: steal Gieo’s bike, leave Tombstone, find father. And it relied entirely on blind luck and coincidence to succeed. Now that she truly needed to devise a plan for the future, she was mentally less able and her only counsel was the dog at her side.

  She broke free of the trees above a sandy patch of beach, a grassy area, and a neatly stacked field of corrugated sheet metal. The day was bright and sunny, the bay calm, and the wind just above a breeze. The scene was lovely and serene from her vantage point and she took a moment to drink it in. Roger sat at her side and smelled the air blowing in from the bay, clearly taking his cue from her.

  Appearing, as if from nowhere, a Transcended ambled toward the stockpile of sheet metal. It was so long since Claudia last saw one, it was a little thrilling that one of the giant robots was out from its subterranean den to begin a functional and artistic art project involving metal sheeting apparently. She pointed to the Transcended and nudged Roger’s shoulder with the side of her leg. Again, he took his cue from her and looked on with interest rather than fear.

  She was in the middle of deciding whether or not she would follow the Transcended to see what it was working on when she saw the white vapor trails coming from somewhere across the bay. It took her a second to realize what they were and what they were fired at. All she could do was scream a warning to the Transcended that it couldn’t hear or heed.

  The missiles struck the shore with only a semblance of accuracy. They clearly weren’t blindly hurled rockets meant for bombardment. The Slark had a target in mind, but even the massive Transcended wasn’t a large enough for the semi-guided missiles, likely intended to hit ships, to hit dead on. The explosions raked the earth and scattered the carefully stacked metal sheets, which probably weighed five or six times what Claudia did, into the air like a house of cards blown by a fan. The attack was over as quickly as it begun and Claudia was far enough away that she only felt an increased rush of wind and a rumble beneath her boots. Half a dozen craters along the grassy expanse and beach bled white smoke into the clear day. Through the haze, Claudia picked out the bronze body of the Transcended among the metal sheeting fluttering to the ground.

  She raced down the hill toward it with Roger quick at her heels. She stumbled through the brush, nearly lost her rifle repeatedly, and snagged her skin and her clothing the whole way down. She hit the field at a dead run, dodging between the smoking craters to reach the fallen Transcended.

  It hadn’t stiffened and fallen over like she thought a disabled robot would or wound down in a predictable pattern like a crippled mechanical toy might. It was simply lying on its side in what Claudia could only describe as a pained fetal position, holding its stomach as though it took a wound there. She approached the dead or dying machine. She touched its massive metal arm that was easily ten times as long as she was. The blue globe, which it held in its shoulder like a medal of honor, was dark and empty.

  She fell to her knees, resting her head on its metal forearm, weeping softly for something so beautiful being destroyed so wantonly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again and again to the dead Transcended. They were so gentle, peaceful, and artistic—it was as though the Slark had cruelly killed an elephant or whale simply because it presented a big enough target.

  She remained in that position for close to an hour. She heard retaliatory strikes from human batteries exploding across the hillside of the opposite shore of the bay where the missiles came from. She doubted they would hit what were probably mobile launchers, but she also didn’t think the Slark would risk firing the missiles again anytime soon. On such a clear day, the vapor trails pointed directly to where they were fired from.

  Roger let out a single warning bark, drawing Claudia’s attention from the robot she was mourning. Four other Transcended were gathered around her and their fallen friend. They didn’t seem to see her or Roger. She moved aside when they reached for the dead robot. Roger whimpered, huddled behind her leg, and tucked his tail under as they respectfully hauled away their fallen comrade, disappearing into whatever hidden alcove they’d come from.

  Claudia stood among the pressed down grass where the Transcended had fallen. A couple electric trucks rolled up from the south to investigate. A few army regulars asked if she’d seen what the Slark were shooting at. She told them about the dead Transcended. They ushered Claudia and Roger into the truck to return to the tower.

  At the tower, Claudia relayed her story to Dr. Gatling, again to her father, and yet again to the chaplain after they demanded she speak with her mental health professional. With each retelling, she lost more of her composure until she was unable to finish the final recounting through her sobbing. Dr. Gatling and her father agreed it was entirely possible she confused something among the scattered metal scrap for a Transcended, but equally likely the Transcended would take care of their own if one fell. The chaplain insisted her story was just an allegory for her lack of faith. She felt like shooting him, but Dr. Gatling had taken her rifle, again.

  She demanded to see Professor Kingston, believing he would support her account as possible, but she was denied. The lowest reaches of the city were closed off, sequestered by the Keepers to protect the power plant from Slark attack. Claudia didn’t believe the reasoning for the reclusion and she could see in her father’s face when he explained it that he didn’t either. Regardless of their disbelief of the rationale, Professor Kingston and the other Keepers were out of reach.

  Claudia was again taken off active patrols and restricted to safe zones. Dr. Gatling refused to give her rifle back until she’d completed another twenty hours with the chaplain. Claudia decided she didn’t need a gun badly enough to suffer another minut
e with him.

  †

  It was a week later, Claudia couldn’t even accurately say which day of the week it was or what underground level they were walking through, when her and her father saw the Transcended. They were walking among the mostly vacant Victorian streets by the buzzing electric light of the 19th century lampposts.

  “I’ve had to officially replace Cavanaugh as captain of the militia,” her father said.

  “The remnants of Hastings loyalists won’t like that,” Claudia said.

  “They’ve already complained,” her father replied, “but what else can I do? The man has been missing for weeks now.”

  “And…?”

  “And Bruce Coffey is far more competent.”

  “I would lead with that rather than a mysterious disappearance of the last commander who was replaced by a known street gang leader,” Claudia said.

  “You were built for politics, my little dove,” her father said. “Perhaps it was a mistake to send you back to war at all.”

  “Do you think Cavanaugh is dead?” Claudia asked, ignoring her father’s comment about her being unfit for combat and his transparently false compliment that she had any sort of head for politics.

  “I think he can make himself appear and disappear as easily as you or I breathe,” her father said. “If he were dead, he would be much easier to find.”

  “He was the primary resistance to the military council accepting the existence of the new Slark classification of Gators,” Claudia said. “With him missing, will more consideration be given to what I’ve seen?”

  “Reports from the handful of survivors of Alcatraz’s defense force resemble yours. Larger, smarter, more vicious Slark appear to be taking over leadership. They are still not willing to attribute Liam’s death to one though,” her father said.

  “It had hunting dogs, mutant hunting dogs,” Claudia said, her voice cracking at the end. “What else could it have been?”

  “I am still struggling to get many of them to accept the existence of such anomalies within the Slark population,” her father said. “Cataloguing the dangerous new set of skills these Gators seem to have is going to be arduous and fraught with misinformation. Soldiers tell tall tales of an enemy’s prowess after sound defeats, which we are once again suffering.”

  “Do you think I’m telling tall tales?”

  Her father shook his head. “I believe my daughter would not be so easily tracked if hunting dogs were not used and, after reading what little existed of Liam’s service record, I don’t believe a lone, normal Slark could have killed him. These are conclusions born out of knowing you and knowing hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. Not everyone has the education I do on those two matters.”

  She could hear in his voice how taxing it was to try to defend the city while the war counsel in charge of carrying out his commands were habitually making things more difficult. The majority of the officers within the city’s military were the officers Hastings brought with him. Many saw the light of how valuable Commander Marceau was, but enough didn’t to make everything more difficult for everyone. If her father didn’t placate these potential separatists, they could take their men and split away, which would weaken the city in potentially catastrophic ways. They had unwarranted power as an unreasonable minority, and it was clearly starting to get to her father.

  Their conversation was cut short by a giant, multi-ton robot standing directly in the middle of the street before them. Claudia and her father stared up at the Transcended, which somehow found its way into one of the lower wards, something none of the massive robots had done to that point. Moreover, it appeared to be looking at them, not through them, or past them, but at them. Almost instinctively, her father began guiding Claudia behind him to place his body as a protective shield in front of hers.

  Transcended were all so distinctive that there was no way Claudia could mistake the one in front of her for any other. It was the same one she’d seen die on the beach after the missile attack, but something about the Transcended seemed different or off.

  “It is the same one I saw on the beach,” Claudia whispered to her father.

  “It appears they repaired it,” her father replied, never looking away from the giant robot looming over them.

  “We should go,” Claudia said.

  Her father guided her around the Transcended, giving it a wide berth as they passed. As if to make sure they didn’t mistake its intention of blocking their way earlier, the Transcended appeared to track their path around it with the glowing blue orb in its shoulder, turning fully around to watch them go after they were past it.

  Chapter 30:

  Deals and Drawings.

  Olivia sat by in the flickering light of a dozen candles, waiting for Esme to finish setting up her drawing implements. Olivia waited until the last possible moment to get fully undressed, keeping her linen robe that had faded from red to something of a shade of desert rose over the years. Esme was all business in getting organized, barely noticing her girlfriend’s reticence or her imminent nudity, far too deep in the process already.

  Esme finished laying out her scrounged pads of paper, her charcoal sticks, pencils, and even a couple of pens she’d found that she liked. She turned to Olivia with a bright smile and glanced down to the robe. Olivia’s bedroom was as romantically and artistically appointed as either of them could make it, but she still didn’t feel comfortable in her own space or her own skin for what was about to happen.

  “You promised,” Esme chided.

  “That’s an interesting route to take with this,” Olivia said.

  “You’re beautiful, you’re exotic, and you promised. Better?”

  “Better enough, I suppose.” Olivia untied her robe and let it slip away. It fell to the floor around her feet and for a moment she held her hands crossed over her chest to conceal her breasts, although she couldn’t precisely say why. Esme gave her a perplexed look and she took her hands away. Nudity between them hadn’t been taboo in weeks. “What am I supposed to do now?” Olivia asked.

  “Get comfortable,” Esme replied. “I’m not a very quick artist so we might be here awhile.”

  “Are there any poses I should try?” Olivia asked. She was feeling a little of the naughtiness and romance slipping from the act and she desperately wanted to recapture it.

  “I don’t know,” Esme replied. “I’ve never worked with a model.”

  “You’re not working with one now. You’re working with your girlfriend and you’d do well to remember that.”

  “You’re right; I’m sorry.”

  “Splendid, now give me a little direction and your bedroom eyes to make sure I still feel like this is a good idea.”

  “Could you sit on the edge of the bed?” Esme asked.

  Olivia did as she was instructed, letting her bronze leg jut forward a little farther than the other. She leaned forward a touch and smiled to Esme.

  “Smiling is going to be hard to hold for very long, and you’ll want to do something more natural with your hands.” Esme began etching out a rough outline of Olivia’s mechanical leg first.

  “Give me something interesting to look at,” Olivia asked with an impish grin. She set her hands to her on either side of her hips to grip the edge of the bed for support as she scooted farther toward the edge. “It’s only fair, after all.”

  Esme sighed and pulled her loose wool dress off over her head. When Olivia only raised an eyebrow, she slipped off her bra as well, which seemed to satisfy. “What was the word you used the other day?” Esme asked as she returned to her drawing, topless with her dark brown hair cascading over her slender shoulders and across the tops of her small, perky breasts.

  “Incorrigible?”

  “I know you are, but what am I?” Esme said with a grin.

  “You didn’t even know what the word meant.”

  “And then you told me and now I do,” Esme said. “You are incorrigible.”

  Esme finished drawing after drawing as Olivia sh
ifted positions to lying down, to reclining, to standing, and then to leaning against the wall. The last one, standing comfortably, her bronze leg fully on display with the knee slightly bent, toe touching the floor, her hands tucked demurely behind her back and her head slightly bent, hair draped over her left eye, was definitely the one Olivia felt most attractive in. Moreover, the vantage point couldn’t be beat. The active work of drawing with charcoal left black smudges across Esme’s mocha skin in some enticing ways and the warmth of the room raised a glisten of sweat across her skin that the candles lit up like tiny diamonds. Olivia was remarkably turned on by the entire artistic endeavor by the end and from the scant few glances she caught of Esme’s final drawing of the evening, it was becoming obvious her physical response of arousal was sneaking into the artwork as Olivia’s artistically rendered self had the same perky nipples she was boasting.

  Esme finished her last drawing and motioned with reluctant, charcoal stained fingers for Olivia to join her on the divan to see what she’d accomplished over the last few hours. Olivia stepped over her robe in walking across the room and sat beside Esme. They spread the drawings over the top of the chest Esme had been using as a supply table for her artistic implements.

  Olivia hadn’t ever thought herself particularly beautiful. She’d been called pretty, cute, and intriguing, but the compliments often came with the qualifier of pointing out how tomboyish she was or how she would be far more attractive if she wore a certain kind of makeup more often. Esme captured something in Olivia she hadn’t really believed existed. The woman in the drawings was a muse, a goddess with human frailty, an icon of beauty and sexuality. Her mechanical leg was featured prominently in every drawing and Esme had done a masterful job of rendering the bronze-plated robotics in a way that made it look more attractive simply for being attached to Olivia’s body.