The Strangelove Gambit

by David Bishop

  A rumbling, scorching noise was rapidly advancing towards Dante as he ran. A glance over his shoulder confirmed the worst. Another of the fireballs was accelerating towards him. He raced into the kitchen, flung the door shut and dived for cover.

  Another explosion detonated inside the castle, shaking stone dust from the ceilings. Flintlock was almost grateful to hear the sounds of nearby battle again, as it made convincing the fearful female teachers to flee much easier. He grabbed one of them by the arm as she passed, a hatchet-faced woman with far too many hairs above her top lip. "Is there anybody else left?" Flintlock shouted.

  "Professor Mould," Ms Zemlya replied before tearing herself free. "He's in the last room on the left!"

  Flintlock hurried to Mould's quarters and barged through the door. But the ancient tutor was already dead, his face twisted in an image of pain and anguish. "Poor chap," Flintlock muttered. "Must have died in his sleep."

  A tiny movement in one corner caught his eye. A toad emerged from the shadows, its colouring and shape all too familiar for Flintlock. He looked at Mould again, the horror in the dead man's eyes, the telltale signs of a struggle. No, the professor hadn't died in his sleep. He hadn't been that fortunate.

  "Poor sod," Flintlock said and fled from the room.

  When the second fireball had finished exploding, Dante risked a glance at what remained of the kitchen doorway. A massive circular hole had been created in its place, the door and surrounding stonework vaporised. Two figures were standing in the space created by the blast, holding hands. They were the same size and shape as the Strangelove Twins, but there the resemblance ended.

  Both were encased in what looked like living metal, shimmering with crazed reflections of their surroundings. Blank, featureless surfaces remained where once had been faces. Each was missing a hand. Instead, the left figure had an arm that ended in a ball of fire, while the right one had a crystalline gauntlet. Ahead of them the kitchen table lay on its side, tipped over to provide cover.

  The fire-fisted creature looked at its mate. "SHALL I?" it asked, the metallic voice still recognisable as that of Tempest.

  "LET ME," Storm replied, her voice also warped by their transfiguration. She pointed her gauntlet and a ball of ice shot forwards, engulfing the wooden table and freezing it. Storm stepped closer and kicked at the object, shattering the table into thousands of tiny, frozen fragments.

  Dante watched from his hiding place in the drainage room. He retreated further into the shadows, almost tumbling backwards into the main sewer. "Bojemoi, who left this open?" he muttered, before silently cursing himself. Maybe the Furies hadn't heard him, maybe his hiding place was still safe.

  "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE," Storm snarled. "NOW COME OUT AND FACE YOUR DEATH LIKE A MAN, DANTE."

  The fugitive smiled ruefully. So much for playing hide and seek.

  Spatchcock was helping Scullion towards the shuttle where the screaming students emerged from the castle, running for their lives. "Flintlock's done his job," the little man observed, straining to keep the badly wounded cook from falling. "Scullion, who normally flies the shuttle?"

  "There's a pilot," she replied weakly, "but this is his day off."

  "Wonderful." By now the students were running past them, towards the shuttle. The fleeing teachers were also spilling from the castle entrance, searching for a means of escape. "The shuttle! Everybody make for the shuttle," Spatchcock shouted.

  "But how...?" Scullion asked.

  "Worst come to worst, Flintlock can get us off this rock. He flew a Sea-Hawk during the war - not very well, but it's better than nothing."

  "Only one problem with that idea," the alien said. "Where's Flintlock?"

  Spatchcock searched the faces of those outside the castle. "I hope he hasn't gone back to the kitchen looking for us..."

  "Spatch? Scullion? Are you still down here?" Flintlock strode towards the kitchen. He stopped short of the entrance, startled to find there was no doorway - just a void where it had been. Flintlock walked through the hole into the kitchen, careful not to touch anything with his hands. Sparks of electricity still danced in the air. "What the blazes happened here?"

  "WE DID," an ominous voice replied. Two menacing silver creatures emerged from the drainage room to confront the new arrival. "WHERE IS HE?"

  "W-where's who?" Flintlock stammered, backing away from them.

  "OUR QUARRY."

  "OUR PREY."

  "NIKOLAI."

  "DANTE."

  "Looking for me, by any chance?" Dante appeared from behind Flintlock, his face and clothing smeared with sewerage. He dragged the terrified Flintlock away from the advancing Furies by the collar. The two men fled from the kitchen, out onto the external walkway.

  "W-Where did you come from?" Flintlock gasped.

  "Crawled along the drain beneath the kitchen - not elegant, but effective. The Furies need to recharge their weapons between each discharge, that gave me enough time to rescue you. But they'll be-"

  Dante! Evasive action!

  "Get down!" Dante shouted, throwing himself and Flintlock down on the metal walkway. A frozen blast chilled their backs as it passed overhead, slamming into the far wall of the castle. "Crest - I can hear you again!"

  A massive increase in adrenaline levels accelerated your recovery from the suppressant, it replied. Just in time too, judging by your precarious-

  "Enough pontificating," Dante hissed. "Just find us a way out of here!"

  What will you be doing?

  Bio-circuitry surged from the end of Dante's hands, forming itself into two razor-sharp blades. "Turning the tables."

  Storm emerged onto the walkway, expecting to see the frozen remains of Dante and Flintlock floating in the water below. But the blond man was alone, standing nervously in the centre of the walkway. "Hello," he said. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm still alive."

  "NOT FOR LONG," Storm snarled, raising her weapon to fire again.

  Dante jumped from his hiding place above the doorway, both bio-blades slicing through her weapon arm. Storm howled in agony, the severed limb spurting metallic liquid into the air.

  "Like father, like daughter," Dante quipped.

  "YOU! YOU SHALL PAY FOR-"

  "Yeah, yeah," he replied, bio-blades flashing through the air. One of them cut through Storm's neck, removing her head. The other severed a leg, causing the body to topple sideways so it fell into the water. "Tell it to your relatives!"

  Tempest felt her twin sister's death as if it were her own, the shock too much for her to absorb without warning. She sunk to her knees in the kitchen, a chilling numbness spreading through her, dulling the fire in her soul. Storm couldn't be dead, she couldn't be...

  Flintlock watched in horror as Storm's torso was torn apart by the creatures guarding the sea around Fabergè Island. Dante used a boot to nudge the dead twin's head and severed leg over the side of the walkway. The face bobbed briefly in the water before it too disappeared, swallowed by hungry mouths. "One down, one to go," Dante said grimly.

  Dante, the shock of her sister's death has debilitated Tempest, but I doubt the effect will last for long, the Crest said. You should attack her now.

  "No," he replied. "The twins were Fabergè's victims, as much as Jim and Natalia. It's the doctor who deserves a taste of his own medicine."

  "What about me?" Flintlock asked.

  "Get to the shuttle," Dante commanded, already running towards the kitchen doorway. "Fly everyone off the island."

  Doctor Fabergè fumed in his laboratory. What was taking them so long? The twins should have despatched Dante by now. He was an inferior being, not worthy of consideration. Even his bond with the Crest was weak, because Dante only had half the Romanov family genes. The fugitive should have been an easy target for Tempest and Storm's first hunt.

  Fabergè examined the stump where his hand had been with clinical detachment. The twins would have to assist him implanting the altered eggs back into the pupils, otherwise the process would not
be finished before the Tsar's arrival. After that I'll create another hand for myself, the doctor decided, using growth-accelerants to clone a replacement. Shouldn't take more than a few days.

  He reached across to the Steel Military Egg and stroked his remaining hand lovingly across its surface. So much he had sacrificed for this beautiful object. Now he would never be parted from the egg again. Ideally, Fabergè would have preferred to kill Dante himself. But the thief was useful sport for the twins. The doctor frowned. What was keeping them?

  Another face appeared beside his own reflection in the egg, a man's face. Fabergè slowly turned to find Dante holding a bio-blade at his throat. "Not dead yet?" the doctor asked. "How regrettable."

  "I beg to differ," Dante replied. "Your elite class has escaped, the castle is in ruins and one of your precious twins is dead. The experiment is over, doctor. The Strangelove Gambit is a failure."

  "Never," Fabergè snapped. "You could never beat one of my creations!"

  "A god would never create something fallible, is that it?"

  "You are an inferior, no match for my beautiful twins."

  "One of your beautiful twins is providing a snack for several of your other creations in the sea. They were eating her face, last time I looked."

  Dante, be careful! Tempest is approaching from behind Fabergè.

  "I don't believe you," the doctor maintained.

  "Don't you?" Dante asked. "The twins, they were just guinea pigs, weren't they? A laboratory experiment that succeeded, against your expectations."

  "What of it?" Fabergè replied. "They were the first, a happy accident that showed me the way. The next generation are a vast improvement upon them."

  "Every child wants to be loved by their parents, don't they?"

  Fabergè shook his head. "Those freaks aren't my daughters, they were experiments. Nothing more, nothing less."

  "HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?" Tempest demanded. She had walked silently into the room, observing Dante and her father. "STORM IS DEAD! YOU SHOULD BE MOURNING HER!"

  Fabergè whirled round, shocked at her appearance. "If you were truly my daughter, you would have killed Dante by now! He is your inferior - destroy him! Prove yourself to me! Prove yourself worthy of the name Fabergè!"

  Tempest looked at Dante, hatred burning in her eyes.

  Flintlock ran out of the castle towards the shuttle, where the evacuees where gathered. "Quick, everybody on board! Dante says we've got to get away!"

  "Only one problem," Spatchcock whispered when Flintlock reached him. "Somebody else got here before us." He jerked a thumb towards the shuttle door, where a familiar figure was sat clutching a pulse pistol.

  "Who wants to die first?" Madame Wartski asked.

  "I will," Scullion replied, attacking the matron from behind.

  Dante backed away from Tempest, bio-blades held up to defend himself from the coming attack. "You heard what he said about you and Storm! He called you freaks, experiments!"

  "MAYBE WE ARE," Tempest snarled, the fireball weapon at her wrist growing hotter by the moment.

  "Destroy the weakling!" Fabergè shouted. "Embrace your destiny! Show him the power of the Strangelove Gambit!"

  Tempest loomed over Dante, her hand drawn back, ready to strike - but she hesitated. "What are you waiting for?" her creator bellowed. "Finish him! Or are you as pathetic as your twin sister?"

  The silver creature spun round to face Fabergè. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

  "I ordered you to kill Dante!"

  "WHY SHOULD I TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU?" Tempest asked. "IF ANYONE IS A WEAKLING, IT'S YOU, FATHER. IF ANYONE HERE IS INFERIOR, IT'S YOU - NOT HIM."

  "What are you talking about?" Fabergè spluttered. "Do as I say!"

  "I DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS ANYMORE," Tempest replied. "I'VE EVOLVED INTO WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED ME TO BE."

  "You must obey me," he maintained. "I am your father, your creator!"

  "BUT STORM AND I WEREN'T YOUR DAUGHTERS. WE WERE JUST FREAKS, EXPERIMENTS GONE RIGHT."

  "You misunderstood what I was saying!"

  "I UNDERSTOOD YOU PERFECTLY." Tempest drew back her arm, ready to strike. "I'LL GIVE YOU A CHOICE, FATHER. I CAN DESTROY YOU OR I CAN DESTROY YOUR PRECIOUS EGG."

  "What?"

  Tempest pointed her weapon at the Steel Military Egg. "YOU LOVED THAT MORE THAN YOU EVER LOVED STORM AND I."

  "But-"

  "LEAVE NOW AND I'LL LET YOU LIVE - BUT THE EGG STAYS HERE. TRY TO TAKE IT WITH YOU AND I WON'T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONSEQUENCES."

  "I'd do what she says," Dante suggested.

  The doctor glared across the laboratory at him, then turned to leave. At the last moment he lunged past Tempest and grabbed the egg. "You won't kill me," he maintained. "I'm your father. I can make you a god like me, giving and taking life as you see fit-"

  "YOU ALREADY HAVE," she replied sadly, and fired.

  Spatchcock watched as Scullion and Wartski fought each other, grappling for control of the pulse pistol as they rolled across the landing pad. The alien cook had clamped tentacles across the matron's face, stifling her breathing. Wartski's movements grew jerkier and more desperate as the life was crushed from her lungs. There was a last feeble spasm, accompanied by the muffled sound of a weapon firing - then neither of them moved again.

  Spatchcock ran to Scullion's side, rolling her away from the matron's corpse. "Scullion? Scullion, talk to me, say something!"

  The alien cook opened her single eye and looked at him sadly. "You'll make an Arcnevan a fine husband some day," she said. Her tentacles sagged to the ground as the last breath escaped her lungs.

  Dante approached Tempest, who stood over the remains of her creator. "You did the right thing," he said. "I know it wasn't easy, but you did the right thing."

  Be careful, the Crest warned. There's no knowing what she will do now.

  "GET OUT OF HERE WHILE YOU STILL CAN," Tempest said. "YOU DIDN'T KILL ME WHEN YOU COULD HAVE DONE, SO I'M GIVING YOU A CHANCE."

  "What are you doing to do?"

  "DESTROY THIS PLACE - THE LABORATORY, THE EGGS, ALL OF HIS NOTES. THESE EXPERIMENTS CAN NEVER BE REPEATED."

  "And what about you?"

  "I SAID GO!"

  She's preparing to fire her weapon again. I'd do as she suggests.

  Dante paused at the doorway. "Goodbye, Tempest. And... thank you."

  Spatchcock was still with Scullion when Flintlock leaned out of the pilot's window. "Spatch, get into the shuttle! Everyone else is on board, we have to go. There's nothing more you can do for her."

  "I know," he replied.

  Dante emerged from the castle entrance, running as if his life depended upon it. "What are you still doing here?" he shouted. "I told you to get everyone away from this place!"

  Spatchcock stood up. "We were just... saying goodbye."

  Dante checked his stride as he saw the bodies of Scullion and Wartski. "Are they both...?" Spatchcock nodded. "Then we'll have to leave them here, like Natalia. There isn't time for two trips. Now, come on!" Dante bundled Spatchcock into the crowded shuttle. "Flintlock, take off! Now!"

  The shuttle rose creakily into the air, a warning alarm sounding in the cockpit. "We're overloaded," Flintlock shouted. "I can't get any more elevation!"

  "Just fly towards the mainland," Dante yelled back. "Skim the top of the waves if you have to, but get us gone!"

  The shuttle banked slowly to the left and chugged slowly over the water. A white light ballooned outwards from the north tower, rapidly spreading to engulf the castle and then the entire island. A sonic boom of noise flashed past the shuttle, jerking it forwards through the air.

  Dante looked back at what was left. "Crest?"

  No signs of life, it replied. Tempest destroyed everything.

  "Then it's over."

  EPILOGUE

  "Where there's a beginning, there's an end"

  - Russian proverb

  The Imperial Palace reached the Black Sea before dawn on Easter Sunday. There had been no cont
act from Fabergè Island for several days but this was not unusual as the doctor preferred the institute to keep itself to itself. The Tsar was ill prepared for what he saw when emerging onto his viewing platform at dawn. Instead of a welcoming party standing outside the castle, the island was little more than a smoking crater. Its outer edges remained, but the ground where the castle had stood was gone, utterly destroyed.

  A team of Raven Corps flyers were sent down to investigate the ruins while the Tsar raged through his palace. He stormed into his daughter's bedchamber, throwing aside Jena's ladies-in-waiting to confront her. "Who did you tell, daughter? Who?"

  "What are you talking about, father?"

  "We are above Fabergè Island - what little remains of it. The castle was destroyed by enemy action."

  Jena pulled her sheets closer. "And what has that to do with me?"

  The Tsar stalked around the side of the bed, moving closer to his daughter. "Only a handful of people knew about today's event. Even fewer knew what Fabergè was doing on that island - you amongst them."

  She looked directly into her father's eyes. "I would never betray you," she said, no trace of fear in her voice. "You know I am utterly loyal to the House of Makarov, just as you know I would never dare reveal our secrets."

  The Tsar glared at her for fully thirty seconds, searching for any trace of duplicity, before turning away furiously. "Then who...?"

  Jena let herself breathe again. "Perhaps there was no enemy attack. You said it yourself, Fabergè had a rampaging ego and questionable loyalty. Either he over-reached, destroying himself and the castle in the process..."

  "Or?"

  "Or he created the explosion to conceal his treachery."

  The Tsar reflected on both of these suggestions until a knock on the door of Jena's bedchamber. "Come!" A member of the Raven Corps entered, gave a note to the Tsar and then hastily departed. Vladimir read the note, his face growing redder by the moment, before crumpling the piece of paper in his fist. "It seems most of the pupils and teachers got out just before the island exploded, thanks to the efforts of one man."