Giant Robots of Tunguska (Doc Vandal Adventures Book 4)

by Dave Robinson

  “Will she need another exposure?”

  Ming shook her head. “I don’t think so. Even though she passed out earlier, she’s still doing better than she was before the exposure.”

  Just then, Vic stirred and moaned in her sleep.

  “I’m worried about addiction,” Ming told Doc. “I know she needs it now, but I don’t like the side effects.”

  “I don’t either; we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  He glanced over at her notebook. “Case notes?”

  “No, it’s a cross between a journal and a letter to my mother.” Ming looked at the floor. “We tried to make up when we were in the Indies, but it’s still hard. At least this way I can make sense of my thoughts even if I can’t get in touch with her.”

  Her face twisted. “Then again, that’s been more the rule than the exception for most of my life; so why should the present be any different.”

  Doc sighed, he had his own memories of Ming’s mother. The woman he knew as Tigress was a revolutionary, and had been one of the leaders of the group the papers had called the Air Pirates of Krakatoa earlier in the year. Not only had they met Ming while on that case, but she had reunited with her mother for the first time in almost a decade. He had lost his own cousin during the same case, but they had never been close. Of course, that wasn’t surprising considering they hadn’t even been born on the same planet.

  As far as he knew, Doc was the only person ever born on the Moon and that didn’t appear likely to change any time soon. For what it was worth the people who lived here were his family, whether they were human or not.

  “Let me know if things change before we have to leave for Newark.”

  “I will,” Ming replied. “Vic will be there if I have to make Gilly carry her.”

  #

  “I don’t need a wheelchair,” Vic grumbled to no avail. “I told you I’m feeling fine. It’s not like I’m going to use up all my energy walking to the plane. Bad enough that you won’t let me fly; you don’t have to treat me like an invalid.”

  “But you are an invalid,” Gilly said from where he was pushing the chair. “Imagine the consternation if you fell off the boarding ladder.”

  “Consternation my ass. You’d laugh yourself sick if that happened.”

  With Doc in the lead holding a sheaf of first class tickets, they were able to move very quickly through the airport. The Art Deco edifice was a lot smaller than the train stations, but it wasn’t as crowded either. There were rumors that Mayor LaGuardia wanted to build an airport in the city, but for the moment all the commercial flights went out through Newark. Even with the small crowds, there were always some people who seemed to make it their life’s work to block everyone else’s movement. Luckily, all Vic had to do was wave her cane and people cleared out of her way. It made her grin for a moment, but then she remembered why they were moving and it lost its charm.

  “Where are we sitting, anyway?” Ming asked. “I’ve never flown on an airliner before.”

  “First class,” Vic said, “or at least that’s what they call it. It’s a DC-2, so we’re going to be behind the cabin about level with the wing roots. It’s right by the center of gravity so we won’t feel the motion as much.”

  “As much?” Ming settled her purse on one shoulder. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, I’m not flying, so there won’t be any aerobatics or other fun maneuvers.” Vic rested her cane on the wide footrest, holding it like a control stick. “We might get a little turbulence, but that’s all.”

  A few minutes later, they were out on the tarmac, watching as mechanics fueled the plane. The wind was biting, so Vic pulled up the blanket Ming had rested in her lap and huddled into it. She hadn’t realized how much colder she was all the time now that she couldn’t move around. Her right hand shivered, and she clenched her fist weakly around the blanket.

  “Are you okay?” Ming leaned over beside Vic and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be boarding soon.”

  “I’ll be fine, I just don’t know why I couldn’t have walked out here,” Vic muttered. “All it would have taken was one quick exposure and I’d have had all the energy in the world.”

  She closed her eyes and remembered the rush from the first time; how she had felt on top of the world. One quick flash from Doc’s cylinder and she’d be ready to fly the plane. Hell, make it a little bigger and she could carry the plane to San Francisco.

  “…know why we can’t do that.” Ming finished as Vic’s attention drifted back to the present. “What little mineral we have has to last until we can cure you completely.”

  “But Ming,” Vic whispered, “you don’t know how it feels.”

  “We don’t know what it’s doing to you, love.” Ming whispered in her ear. “You have to be strong.”

  “Strong? How do you get strong from a wheelchair?” Vic laughed bitterly. She shook her head and then curled up under her blanket, trying to stop the shaking. It was going to be a long flight, a very long flight.

  #

  It hadn’t just been a long flight, it had been a long voyage, too. The Asama Maru might be the NYK line’s flagship, but for Vic it had been little more than a floating hotel room with a boring view. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to play shuffleboard from her wheelchair. In the end she’d played so many hands of cribbage that she couldn’t count to fifteen without following it by immediately saying two.

  Two weeks, no fifteen —two— days, playing the invalid expatriate Countess had been quite enough to last her a lifetime. At least this ship was smaller, without the stuffy formal airs of the N.Y.K. liner. There were no worries about dressing for the Captain’s Table, no formal ballroom. Just a handful of cabins on the top deck behind the crew quarters. Even the promenade was along a working deck, not simply a place to show off last season’s fashions.

  The wind rustled Vic’s hair as she leaned on the gunwale looking out over the Yellow Sea, one arm around Ming. Below them water hissed against the hull as the ship plodded along at a steady ten knots. It was a bright sunny afternoon, though a bit on the chilly side. They had found a perfect spot just aft of the port bow, giving them a great view over the water. There was another ship, a rusty freighter, a few miles ahead but from where they stood the bow of their own ship blocked it from view. Best of all, Doc had finally relented and given her an exposure this morning so Vic felt like herself again.

  That first moment when the shutter opened had been like coming alive. Everything coming into sharp focus, with bright colors and crisp sounds. Even the taste of the sea air had been an epiphany after all those days sitting cramped in a wheelchair. Vic didn’t even care that they were sailing into a war zone, anything was better than being stuck at waist height for weeks.

  As if she’d read Vic’s mind, Ming spoke up. “Should we be worrying about a Chinese attack?”

  “Not really.” Vic shrugged. “From what I’ve heard the Chinese have less of a real navy than the Dutch have at Batavia; certainly nothing to match the Japanese.”

  Vic gestured at the surrounding waters. “Besides, the Japanese already hold almost everything down to Shanghai. Pirates might be a problem, but even they’d need somewhere to base their boats. Only thing I’d worry about is a submarine, and I haven’t heard of the Chinese having any of them.”

  Ming smiled, and leaned a little closer. “Good, I’m feeling selfish. I don’t want anything to spoil this afternoon for us.”

  “I don’t either.”

  The two women watched the water for a few minutes until they heard a shout from above. Vic’s Japanese wasn’t good enough to make out exactly what the lookout was saying, but from the tone it didn’t sound good. “Did you catch that?”

  Ming shook her head. “Something Maru, I think they’re talking about the other ship but I’m not sure.”

  Grabbing Ming’s hand, Vic led the way up the nearby staircase to the ship’s forecastle. Rushing to the bow, she scanned the sea for the ship they had seen ear
lier. Just then, water fountained over the bow of their ship as a shell plunged into the sea less than a dozen yards off to port.

  “Hey!” Ming protested as Vic shook the spray out of her hair.

  “Sorry,” Vic muttered, and then went quiet as she got a better look at the ship ahead of them. Still just as rusty, now it showed teeth. Instead of the flush deck she had seen at first, it was a three island ship with a pair of cruiser sized deck guns taking up the open spaces. Three lines of tracer pointed back toward hidden machine gun nests on the deck of the oncoming ship as it moved to cross the T.

  “Get down.” Vic pushed Ming to the deck and moved to cover the smaller woman with her body. Scanning the forecastle, she spotted a nearby open hatch.

  “When I say go, head for that hatch. We need to get off the deck before those machine guns find the range. Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

  Vic paused, watching the guns sweep from side to side. “Go, now!”

  Ming scuttled across the deck, head down, running straight for the hatch. She had made it almost all the way, when she veered right to where a Japanese sailor who had been hit at least twice and had blood running from his head and chest. Ignoring the gunfire, she went straight to work on the wounded man, ripping strips off her clothing to try and bind his wounds.

  “Get under cover,” Vic yelled. “I’ll get the sailor.”

  “Not until I get this bleeding stopped,” Ming called back without lifting her head from her work.

  Damn it! Trust Ming to find someone who needed saving and then completely forget her own danger. Wasn’t it just like the woman? Vic popped up her head to take another look at their attacker. It looked like the ship was bearing off a little as if trying to maintain the range while the gun crews reloaded. At least a dozen men scrambled like ants around each of the guns, lugging heavy shells toward the breech.

  After one last look at the other ship, Vic turned her attention back towards Ming and the sailor. She had made good use of her time, and was already working on the chest wound. Taking advantage of the respite, Vic crouched and quickly ran to Ming and the sailor.

  “Here, let me carry him.” Vic told Ming once she approached. “Those machine guns will cut us to pieces if we stay on deck.”

  “Okay, but be careful with him. I think I’ve got his wounds stabilized but I’m not sure.”

  Vic nodded and slipped her arms under the unconscious man. Powering to her feet with her legs alone she dashed to the hatch, and jumped in. Setting him down on the deck, she looked for Ming who appeared less than a minute later.

  “Get down here,” Vic hissed, holding out her arms. “Don’t climb, just jump.”

  Ming hiked up the ragged hem of her now shorter dress and leaped through the hatch. Just as Vic stretched out her arms to catch Ming, the ship rocked as something tore through the hull with the screech of tearing metal. Even with her sea legs, Vic stumbled and barely caught Ming as the ship lurched and Ming didn’t. The deck came up with a thump, putting Vic flat on her ass with Ming in her lap.

  “Go find Doc and Gilly,” Ming ordered. “I’ll be along once I’ve got him taken care of. You can do more if you can get them to stop shooting at us.”

  “I’ll try.” Vic gave Ming a quick peck on the cheek.

  “And don’t do anything stupid!” Ming called out as Vic headed aft.

  Vic chose not to answer, but just hustled as fast as she could toward passenger country.

  #

  Vic found Doc and Gilly in the wardroom, talking with one of the ship’s officers.

  “How bad is it out there?” Gilly asked, pulling out a seat beside him.

  “Bad enough that I don’t want to sit down.” Vic scanned the room. “There’s a damn Q-ship out there and we’re sitting ducks under its guns.”

  “Q-ship?” Doc turned his attention away from the ship’s officer. “The third mate here is telling me it’s nothing but pirates and they’ll soon give up once the captain increases speed. All they mount is a handful of machine guns, and at most they’ll kill a few sailors before they give up or the Navy gets here.”

  “If he’s hoping for the Navy, they’d better get here fast. I counted three machine gun nests and a pair of what looked like five-inch deck guns.” Vic glared at the Japanese officer.

  “From what I saw, they’re planning to stand off and batter us to pieces with the deck guns and unless this tub has some real surprises they’re going to do it, too.

  “You didn’t pack the suits, did you?” Vic finished off hopefully.

  Doc shook his head. “Do you really think we could have got them on the airliner? It was expensive enough getting four seats at short notice. We’d have been laughed off the flight if I’d tried to load an extra four hundred pounds of baggage.”

  “So, what can we do? Sit here and pray the Imperial Japanese Navy can get a ship here before whoever it is puts enough shells through the hull to sink this tub? I hate to tell you this, but my money’s on the Q-ship.” Vic bent her knees to ride out the shock as another round hit the side of the ship.

  “They’ve got the range,” she announced unnecessarily.

  “I’ve got a rifle,” Gilly said, “if I can get at it. Don’t know that it’ll match up against a five-inch gun though.”

  “They’re open mounts,” Vic replied. “You might do some good.”

  The ship rocked twice as two more rounds smashed into the hull, the explosions shattering portholes. Faint screams drifted into the wardroom, spurring Vic to action.

  “Where is it?” She grabbed Doc by the lapels. “That could be Ming out there screaming. I can stop the guns if you just give me a big enough exposure. You saw the cathedral; you know I can do it.”

  “I can’t expose you to that kind of risk.” Doc spread his arms. “You barely survived the cathedral episode. Who knows what it would do to you if you overdose again.”

  Vic tightened her grip. “I. Don’t. Care.

  “If Ming dies out there and I didn’t do everything I could to stop it, do you really think I’ll make it to that mine?” She shook her head before answering her own question. “Either you give me another exposure or I rip your cabin apart looking for it.

  “I can’t wait helplessly for things to work out. I have to do something.”

  Doc met her eyes, and Vic threw all her will into trying to make him see just how serious she was. This was it; if she couldn’t save Ming and the others what did her own life matter?

  “All right.” He sighed and reached into his vest.

  The moment the cylinder came into view it pulled Vic’s attention as if it were magnetic. She could have sworn it glowed from one end. Her heart raced and she found herself breathing a little faster as she waited for him to flip it open. Vic’s hand twitched as if to pull it from Doc’s hand but she forced herself to remain still and let him give her the exposure.

  He stepped back and pointed the end of the cylinder in her direction. Time slowed as Vic’s world shrank down to the point where the leaves of the shutter overlapped. The world turned into a little black circle as the cylinder irised open. Blood rushed in her ears as a burst of pure strength hit her in the chest, spreading outwards like fire in her blood.

  “Yesss!” The word rose from her diaphragm as power flooded her body. Unable to resist any longer Vic pulled the end of the cylinder into her chest, reveling in the feeling of strength it gave her. After a long torrent, the flow slowed to a trickle and she dropped the cylinder.

  One stride took her to the hatch, and another took her back onto the deck. Vic’s heart leaped into her mouth as she took in the chaos in front of her. Machine gun fire scoured the deck while the two cannon took a break to reload. Ming had surfaced from below decks, and was running a makeshift infirmary in the shelter of a steel deckhouse. For the moment she looked to have things under control, but who knew how long that would last.

  The bark of a rifle beside her told Vic that Gilly was true to his word, matching his rifle against their at
tacker’s five-inch guns.

  “Think you can carry me?”

  Vic turned to see Doc standing beside her.

  “You’re a bit bigger than Ming, but I don’t see why not.” She grinned. “You’d make a perfect bride.”

  Letting Doc try to parse the joke, Vic scooped him up in her arms and ran for the side of the ship. The Q-ship had closed to within a hundred yards and was laying off the starboard bow. Just before reaching the gunwales, she bent her legs and leaped.

  The ship dropped away beneath them as Vic reached for the sky. Casting her eyes forward, she scanned her target. From this height the deck looked like an anthill, with gunners scurrying around the gun mounts like so many insects. In addition to the two deck guns, the Q-ship also had six machine gun mounts, three on each broadside.

  As they reached the top of the arc, Vic smiled: this was what flying ought to be. The wind whistled in her ears; her hair flowed behind her. She had aimed perfectly; she was going to land right on top of the forward gun. This was what life was supposed to be, not the dull gray of normality.

  Just before they reached the Q-ship Vic flipped Doc into the air, sending him towards the deckhouse. A second later she put her feet down right on top of the breech block hinge. As Chinese sailors looked at her in shock, Vic bent down and ripped the breech block clear off the mount with a screech, swinging it around like a garbage can lid. Bodies flew everywhere as Vic cleared a fighting space. Dropping the breech block, she ripped the barrel from its mounting, spraying hydraulic fluid everywhere as the recoil cylinders fell away.

  Vic grinned as she balanced the gun in one hand, and then flipped it over the side like a caber. Water fountained skyward as the tube hit the sea.

  “Next?” she asked rhetorically as she picked up the hundred-pound breech block and swung it lazily around.

  A burst of machine gun fire was her only answer, and she leaped to the nearest machine gun mount, swinging the breech block like it was a twig. Pieces of guns and gun crews scattered like toothpicks in a tornado before she turned her attention to the other forward machine gun. It lasted no longer than its predecessor.