The Necronists

by J M Bannon

  "You remember how when we met at your townhouse, you transported me back to when you killed your brother?"

  "Half brother and I didn't transport you, I flooded you with the memories of that incident. That time had passed you relived it through a vivid recollection," corrected Angelica.

  "I see, well it happened again but this time I traveled back to an incident in ancient Persia. A priest called Caiaphas had a hand in imprisoning an ancient being. In the process, I glimpsed his true nature and origin; he is not of this plane of existence," Rose gave as much detail as she could remember.

  "I sensed something unusual about him, but assumed it was his arcane abilities," confirmed Angelica.

  "So, your boy is with him?"

  "No, he is with an American and I plan to go there and retrieve my Son,"

  "Apologies for interrupting Miss Rose, I have something to show you." Mechanist Fletcher poked his head around the corner looking into the parlor, Tommy hovered behind him holding a gizmo mounted to a wooden board.

  Rose stood up. "Come in Alfie, may I present Angelica Du Moya,"

  Angelica held out her hand, "Pleased to meet you." "Alfred Fletcher, Mechanist, but all my friends call me Alfie," he said shaking her right hand awkwardly with his left hand.

  "What happened to your hand?" asked Angelica.

  "Shell blast in the Crimean," he replied.

  "And this is Tom Edison," Alfie turned, motioning to his co-worker.

  "Call me Tommy," said the teenager shyly.

  "Ah, an American I see,".

  "Yes, and returning home soon, sad to say, but that's not why we're here. Alfie and I wanted to show you something we cooked up," said Tommy as he set the board with a variety of components in the center of the coffee table. There were three compass dials affixed to the structure, one was pointing towards the front of the house, the second pointed north the third slowly turned between the two. Connecting the dials was an array of tubes, valves, and a tiny engine powered by an alcohol burner.

  "So what's this, Boys," asked Rose.

  "Let me say this is a supposition, and I was inspired by the work we have been doing with the electromechanical connections to the ethereal. That clock isn't just a clock, well part of it is, and that clockwork is needed to synchronize activity of two distant points, akin to navigation. It is required to help set the bearing or connection between another device.

  "Like another one of these clocks?" asked Rose.

  "Oh no, I expect that its partner is much bigger and more sophisticated, by my estimation of the energy requirement for projection. said Alfie.

  "Projection, how?" Rose queried.

  "Yes, you see here on this indicator, we have tuned it to the harmonics of the device; inside the clock is an object similar to your gemulet." offered Alfie.

  "Far more sophisticated, the inventor of this device is a genius," injected Tommy admiringly. Rose gave him a cross look.

  "As I was saying, there are theories which describe invisible waves that can be projected, then received. Imagine instead of needing a wire to send a wire -type message, it could be sent through the air. I believe what you saw was this device connected to the source device, and it opened a projection for your man to walk right down the signal to the other place." Alfie finished smugly.

  "I have a different theory," said Tommy, "I conject the principles are different; this machine is a slave to a master device and when actuated, opens a point coordinated with the master. The Master unit folds the aether and punches a hole through space to create a shortcut in physical space. The slave unit just aligns with the hole made by the master,"

  "That is preposterous, the energy needed to do something like..." said Alfie raising his voice.

  "Gentlemen, please, I need you two geniuses to work together. What does this do and do you agree with how it works?" asked Rose pointing to the panel laid in front of her.

  "The dial in the middle is just your standard compass, it shows you direction based on magnetic north. The dial to the right shows the direction of the clock. The third dial will show a direction based on where the connection signal emanates from," said Tommy.

  "This is a prototype Rose, but if we build three or more of these devices and spread them out say on three airships, you could triangulate the position of the signal source." Alfie finished.

  Rose was impressed. "Brilliant! Make up a list, first thing tomorrow and go and get the parts to build them. I'll be heading into Scotland Yard in the morning, I can speak to Detective Williamson about arranging placement of the devices onto Her Majesties airships and fly in a search pattern. Dolly will be so pleased with your work, this gives him a method to find Allard." Rose gushed, giving both of the men a big hug. She then turned to Angelica, "You see Angelica, this is the aptitude we can bring to bear upon which to find young Gerrard."

  31

  Saturday the 30th of March

  2:42 p.m. Continental Cattle Company, Omaha Nebraska

  When Henri walked the production line, he considered the unsavory task Caiaphas had demanded he perform. Did he have any options? He genuinely disliked the thought of taking another life.

  He had heard how the manufacture of goods by mechanical systems was changing the trades. The power of steam driving intricate automation to complete repetitive tasks made it possible for American cotton to be woven on British looms into cheap cloth, then shipped to the Continent. These were truly awe-inspiring times. Dr. Bernard and Caiaphas had taken the principles of mechanist fabrication and applied it to the manufacture of the Homunculus. This Homunculus fabricator that took up the entire slaughterhouse floor could make more of the beasts than he ever could in his laboratory in far less time. The front end of the machine took the bison carcass and broke it down. The next section fabricated Bernard's latest design, a much larger creature than ever produced in the chambers downstairs. Next, the machine took a strange turn, not in shape but in what it did, using rolls of copper sheet and bins of rivets, the material was cut and stamped into the beasts roughly sheathing them in plate metal.

  He was curious how it would work but walked on. Here the equipment looked familiar it was where the Homunculus were animated. Instead of a chamber like they used in the Lab a large vat filled with ichor would bathe the Homunculus. The beast would be dipped in the bath charged with life then dropped out on the floor alive. Animation was now a continuous process rather than batch. He was proud to see how his adaptations translated from his imagination to the drawing board and now a reality.

  On the wall behind him, were the controls for the machine. He stared at the panel of pipes and valves that pumped ichor from the lab below into the vat and transmitted life energy from the two soul corrals below. Now all this equipment would be moved to a new location and if he were to ever see it work, he would have to kill a man.

  "This is interesting," He said out loud.

  After the ichor vats, the machine ended into an enclosed cage. Essentially a cattle chute where the assembly released the Homunculus into a caged run. Instead of loading onto a train or stored in a pen, the creatures were released and funneled towards a Nexus door. "Caiaphas plans to send them through the Nexus,” Allard said aloud.

  From here he looked to the far end of the factory up to the second-floor office where he was to go and kill a man. He walked the distance to the wooden stairs considering his options, feeling there were none.

  At the top of the stairs on the landing was a big man in a wolfskin coat, who looked like he came straight out of the woods. Their eyes met, but they said nothing to each other. Allard just opened the door and entered the office.

  "You the voice of reason here?" said the Marshal through his badly beaten face. Suspended in the middle of the room his hands were above his head and his toes barely touched the ground. They had the captive dangling from the rafters by a rope tied around his wrists.

  "Pardon me?"

  "I'm looking for the fellow here who has the sense to know If you weren't guilty of killing a
ll those people in Harpsichord, that by beating the shit out of a Federal Marshal you would leave a Judge and jury highly suspect of your guilt in the other matter."

  "I didn't beat you," Allard posed.

  "No. No, you didn't; that's why I asked before you do something stupid, like beat me more. You speak pretty good English for a Frenchie and based on the black garb I suspect you're one of those Necronists," Elmore slurred, from a swollen face.

  Henri looked down, realizing he still wore his Seer frock.

  "Thought so. So, you have a secret base over here?" asked Elmore.

  "I don't follow."

  "Oh sorry. I'm just putting the pieces together. It wasn't hard to conclude that all those people you murdered on that airship were killed the same way as those in Colorado, so I called the British police. They sent over the English cop and three charming ladies." Elmore's eyebrows bounced and then he winked, "Are Necronists like priests?"

  "No, we do not take an oath of celibacy, if that is what you mean," snapped Henri.

  "No offense meant, it was just for my own edification. Anyways, this one quite eye-catching, she is some kind of Metaphysicist and she pinned you fellas the minute she saw that red glowing gadget of yours,"

  "Will you shut up?" barked Allard.

  "Excuse me, I think I have a right to talk here. See you have come up here for one of three reasons; to question me, so in that regard you want me to talk. Or to kill me, in that case, I don't give a fuck what you want as these are my last minutes on earth and I'll do as I please."

  "And the third one?"

  "You're here to turn yourself in, free me and ask for leniency," said Elmore.

  Henri chuckled.

  "Number two huh," said the Marshal.

  "Yes,"

  "Figures, I mean why stop at two hundred?" Elmore mused out loud.

  "Did the man out there beat you because of your mouth going?" asked Allard.

  The Marshal smiled. "I'd like to think it was just because he is a mean prick who didn't know better but, yea I think I may have provoked some undue aggression. Anyways, I was telling you about this Filly, how she has your device and knows you Necronists are behind the mass murders and now is on her way to France making this an International issue with the British and the Americans."

  "This has nothing to do with the Necronists," replied Allard.

  "So, you're some kind of turncoat selling their ideas, and somewhat fucked once your ghost chasing cult finds out you have been sharing trade secrets."

  "Oh, they know." Henri thought about how little this man knew of the Guild's retribution.

  "Figures. It's tough to outrun the wire-type. Used to be you could come out West and disappear, but here we are now with the whole continent connecting with wire and rail. I'd say there really is no place to hide these days, certainly not when they start printing your picture in all newspapers as the killer behind the Zeus Colonial. Harpsichord likely won't even get a mention, no one cares about some frontier town but all those fancy people on that fancy ship," Elmore rambled,

  Henri sat down on a couch across from the Marshal under the long window with a view of the factory floor.

  "Smell getting to you? That's the worst part of being here. Don't get me wrong I did not enjoy that ass whooping I took, but the rotting smell is unbearable. What are you all up too down there?"

  "It's the slaughterhouse where they break down the cattle," said Allard.

  "Break down, that’s a nice way to say kill and dismember? You don't look like the kill and dismember type. Now, Leary out there, he is a mean Son of a Bitch he'll kill a man and not think a thing of it. But you, I can tell you're not a killer and you're in over your head. I've seen it before, you get swept down a river of circumstance when all you wanted to do was just get across to the other side, but the current is too strong, and you can see that waterfall coming. I got rope here I can throw you, all you need to do is untie it from my hands," Quentin stated.

  "That's poetic,"

  "I thought so, but you get my point, things are out of control. The cops are on your doorstep. The folks you are in league with don't trust you, so they sent you up here to kill me and get real blood on your hands."

  Henri looked up at the American.

  "Oh, you didn't know, did you? What's your name, Son? You may as well tell me if you're going to help us both out, and if you kill me it goes to the grave," said the American Lawman.

  "Henri,"

  "Mine's Elmore Quentin, US Federal Marshal, Colorado Territory,"

  "But you said we were in Omaha, that's not in Colorado, is it?" Allard was confused.

  "Right, but I'm a Federal Marshal. Federal, means we go where we please. Henri, you're getting me off topic here. We were discussing how you don't know shit about a conspiracy, you're new to this and now facing the classic partner squeeze where they require you to do the dirty work. Think about it that's not what you joined up for is it; Leary out there could easily finish the job of killing me. Hell, he would enjoy it, likely so much that the dumb fuck would brag about it in a bar and get caught, but I digress. You see, Henry it's primary school lessons for a criminal enterprise to have the weak link, usually, someone duped into the conspiracy commit murder. It's not about your loyalty to the Cause, your boss is painting you into a corner of guilt. I mean really, Henry, I thought you Necronists were educated men, able to look into the future and talk to ghosts," finished Elmore.

  "Is this what you do, Marshal; talk your way out of situations, coerce people to do your will? Because I don't believe you really care what happens to me. I am at least that smart," answered Henri.

  "Like I said, either you're the guy that lets me go or the guy that kills me. I figure you fellas are up to something much bigger and Harpsichord was an accident. While I want to hold those responsible for that loss of life I also see there may be a bigger game afoot and if this is some plot you have cooked up with secessionists, then I have to do what I can to stop it. If that means saving you from the gallows to save hundreds of innocent lives then I'm prepared to cut that deal," offered Elmore.

  Henri thought to himself, he hated listening to this American. Allard's English wasn't great and Elmore was annoying him with his comments and scaring him with the truth he laced into them. He was terrified not of this silly Lawman, but of getting trapped between Caiaphas and the Necronists; both would look for a retribution far worse than being hung from a gallows pole. "I have options, you'll see." Allard stood and stormed out of the office and out onto the landing.

  "I thought you were going to finish off the Marshal?" said the burly woodsman with an Irish accent.

  "I am, then I got in there and I have no weapon," replied Allard.

  Leary reached into his coat and pulled a pistol out of his holster. "I expect you're not the type to stab a fella," handing him the Pistol butt first. "Merci," replied Allard, hand out.

  Henri looked at the nickel -plated six-shooter. "I pull the hammer back?" asked Allard.

  "Yeah, pull the trigger slowly and be ready for the kick," said Leary.

  BAMM! The gun went off with the pull of the trigger at this close range, blowing a hole through Leary. Bits of Leary and the bullet went flying through the window of the office.

  "Well, I didn't foresee that Henri, but I see your rationale he wouldn't let the two of us just walk out of here."

  Allard took Leary's other pistol and walked down the stairs.

  "Henri, Henry ole boy, best if you untie me, now!" Henri heard the Marshal yelling.

  At the foot of the stairs, he moved down the manufacturing line opening valves, twisting controls, throwing levers. Steam coursed into the system, belts moved, wheels spun and bison carcasses came out of the coolers on hooks feeding into the line. He turned all the controls on filling the vat with ichor and charging the rejuvenation electrodes; the dynamos whirred to life, and the machine began the process of fabricating his Homunculus. Looking at the Nexus gate at the end he noted the number on the clockwork mechanism, th
e number twenty.

  The factory floor was deafening as it chugged and hissed through the process. He continued down into the lab walking past Bernard and the American. "You Gents wait here, I have a quick errand to run," said Henri as he walked up to the Nexus gate and pulled the chain.

  "What's going on?" Bernard protested.

  Henri pointed the gun at the two. It took three shots, killing them both, "Bienvenue dans le Far West," he said while waiting for the gate. Before he stepped in he saw a stool and grabbed it with his other hand.

  3:15 p.m. The Nexus

  Henri set the lab stool down on the floor of the Nexus vestibule and climbed upon it. He teetered as he ascended but it was tall enough he could easily reach the ceiling and steady himself. He pushed up on the panel he had noticed earlier, and it gave way. Henri was surprised how easily, just assuming a system as sophisticated as the Nexus gateway would be built more solidly.

  It took an effort to pull himself up through the small hatch overhead and as he squirmed and pulled, he scratched himself up. He laid on the floor with his feet dangling down the hatch door and looked around as he caught his breath. The room was filled with flywheels and cogs as if he had shrunk down and stepped inside a clockwork complication. At the center was a large glass bulb that held pulsing alchemical gases. It was mesmerizing.

  He stood up and looked around for a way out of the maze of equipment. Between the works, he saw a path and walked through it and up a stairway to a room with an expanse of windows looking out over water. He was on an island or shoreline looking over a lake. Situated beside the window was a long control panel and sitting with his back to Henri was a brown-haired man.

  The man turned and jumped, startled. His hands went up in the air. Henri noticed is heavy unkempt beard and his expensive silk pajamas and robe. Allard realized he had the gun out and pointed at him.

  "Parlez-vous Français?"

  The man nodded. Henry opened his coat and put the two guns in his waistband.

  "Sorry about the gun, I had a dilemma at the factory. You can put your hands down, I won't hurt you, we are both working with Caiaphas. There has been a change in plans and I needed to have access to the gates."