Steampunk International

by Ian Whates

  Anton Stark was the first Portuguese author to be invited to write for this anthology. A long-standing collaborator of Editorial Divergência, he is, among other things, a prolific short fiction writer, both in English and Portuguese, and the author of Prelúdio. In his story, “Videri Quam Esse”, he mixes historical fantasy and a little bit of steampunk with the Portuguese Renaissance as a unique backdrop. It is 1513, and the rhinoceros brought to the Portuguese court from India dies. The animal, however, had been promised as a gift to the Pope. It is up to the king's chamberlain, Garcia de Resende, to find a solution.

  Pedro Cipriano, born in 1986, is the founder of Editorial Divergência, the leading publisher of Portuguese speculative fiction. His short fiction has been published in several anthologies. In 2018, Pedro created the SF&F literary award António de Macedo, granted to one unpublished manuscript each year. In 2017, his debut novel As Nuvens de Hamburgo (The Clouds of Hamburg), won the Choice of the Year award at Fórum Fantástico, the annual Portuguese SF&F convention. He has also contributed to many other projects, events and literary contests.

  The Desert Spider

  Pedro Cipriano

  Translated by Ana Piedade and Pedro Cipriano

  The foul smell of wine and piss invaded her nostrils. When Ana entered the tavern, the mechanical piano was just playing the last chords of a Bach’s Sonata, half drowned out by men shouting while playing cards. Her parents loved Bach’s music. Thinking of them reminded her of how mortified they would be if they could see her in these dark boyish clothes. But, they couldn’t.

  She looked around, scanning the faces for her contact. Most of them wore airman’s goggles, dirty uniforms and unkept beards.

  There was a brief silence. All eyes settled on her. She could guess what they were thinking – that it wasn’t normal for a sixteen-year-old, well-behaved girl to be here. In one regard they were wrong: she wasn’t well-behaved.

  “Come over here, sweetie!” yelled a fifty-year-old captain with greasy hair.

  Ana ignored him and walked forward. She had found what she was looking for: the Scar, running from chin to the left cheek. The owner looked like a middle-aged grunt. She knew the type, people who usually think more with their fists than with their brains. It was expected.

  “Are you an admirer of Vivaldi?” Ana asked, standing in front of him.

  He glanced at her and smiled.

  “Only of his latter works.”

  She sat in the vacant chair, facing the door. He drank from his cup, spilling some drops of red wine on his coat.

  “So, do they send little girls to do a grown man’s job now?”

  This little girl would kill you before you could drop your cup, Ana thought. She raised her eyebrows. “I would love to sit here and gossip, like the little girl that I am, but I have a grown man’s job to do. Do you have it?”

  He nodded but remained still. Ana suppressed the shiver that ran up her spine. She took a little wooden box from her breast pocket and placed it on the table with her hand over it. His eyes shone and his fingers reached for the prize. Ana was quicker, pulling it away from him.

  “Do you know what happens to those who double-cross us?”

  He hesitated. She knew that showing any inkling of fear would spoil everything.

  “Very well” he conceded, taking a steel cylinder from his leather bag.

  This sergeant of the 2nd Royal Air Corps would face a firing squad if anyone found out he had sold the papers inside the container. If she was caught with them, she would be hanged. Just like her parents.

  She still remembered how her mother’s neck broke. However, Ana would rather share the fate of her mother than her father’s. His death had been slow. He had been in agony as his body twisted and kicked, and his face reddened. At last, he had gone still.

  Ana hadn’t been able to take her eyes from the pair of them.

  As soon as the cylinder touched the table, Ana grabbed it and let the sergeant have the box. Two one-carat round stones, enough to buy a small village. How many men would kill or die for them? Maybe the same number who would die or live because of the secrets she had in her hand.

  She opened the lid and recognised the coat of arms of the Northern Monarchy. This fool had the nerve to steal the originals. He would not live long enough to enjoy those diamonds, she suspected. He held one of the tiny minerals in his hand, observing it closely before using it to scratch the table.

  Ana stood and strapped the cylinder onto her leg.

  “You are such a beauty! Would you share a drink with me?”

  She ignored him and made for the exit. The sergeant just went back to his cup. The greasy-haired captain was looking at his cards. No one else seemed to have noticed her. She knew it had been a critical step, although the worst was yet to come.

  Once outside, she saw two figures crossing the paved street. They were coming in her direction. Ana recognized the royal blue uniforms, illuminated by the gas lamps. These were not ordinary Air Corp’s soldiers. They were Military Police.

  She froze for a moment. Her heart raced. At last, she forced herself to walk away. She realised that if they were after her, she was as good as dead. Ana knew she could dispatch them quickly with her wrist blade, but she was also aware that she would never make it out alive. She would die a traitor’s death, just like her parents.

  She hadn’t been able to shed a single tear. She’d stood there motionless as they lowered the bodies. No one dared to approach her. She had been unable to take her eyes from the scene, aware that she would revisit those memories countless times before she drew her last breath. They had tried to convince her that she didn’t need to witness it, but she’d made a point of doing so anyway. There was no choice. She should have gone home, but she had already made up her mind to never return there. One week later, she began her training.

  The two officers entered the tavern, ignoring her. She was relieved, but not for long. She fought the urge to break into a run. If they arrested the sergeant, it would be a matter of minutes before they come after her. After they realised what was stolen, they would never let the matter rest.

  Fortunately, the street was empty. She turned into the first alley she came across. Ana had to think fast. There were no safe houses in this part of the city. No one in their right mind would situate one in the middle of so many soldiers and government officials. Even if there were, the sooner the parcel was sent across the border the better. She had to leave the city as soon as possible.

  In the next alley, the monstrous three-storey red-brick buildings left her uneasy. The street was narrow and she saw no way to hide. There weren’t any lights. Either people were already sleeping, or they were at the nearest tavern. More importantly, no one seemed to be watching her. She had no idea how much time she had. These were poor men’s houses; one of those flats could be a safe house. She had no clue which. After all, it was not her style to go into hiding. That’s why she was the best.

  Ana knew why she was chosen for this mission, even though she was rather thin and not very tall for her age. Her combat skills were very limited and relied solely on agility and speed. She had no way to face an armoured soldier nor could fire a weapon. She had tried both in training, and failed miserably. In fact, they’d been ready to toss her into the streets before she mastered the art of knife fighting. That’s when they started to see her potential. They had also realised that if she dressed in a corset and a long skirt, she would have the perfect disguise. Apart from the fact she wouldn’t be seen dead in such a thing.

  At the end of the alley, Ana saw movement to the left. Steamcars, the latest fashion. She though these people were stupid for wasting coal like that in the middle of a war, but progress was the trend, and those people would rather starve than go back to horse drawn carriages.

  Ana noticed that the buildings were less monochromatic there. They were also bigger. The facades had brighter colours, big sash windows and slate roofs. She needed to be more careful, as these people tend to stay up
until late. A girl with heavy grey pants wasn’t a common sight in this kind of neighbourhood.

  A Steamcar approached from behind. The headlights cast her shadow onto the sidewalk. She held her breath and kept walking, fighting the urge to look. If they were searching for her, she was dead already. In any case, it was better not to draw their attention.

  The rhythmic noise of pistons passed by and the driver ignored her. Four wheels and seats, painted in a shiny black. That was a civilian’s car, nothing to be afraid of. Some of her colleagues could tell a car’s type by its sounds, but they could never read people’s faces as well as she did. Ana knew exactly when they were lying and, more importantly, when they were afraid.

  She followed the car until she reached the main street. Ana recognized the place: she was close to the São João Theatre. It was not very late, the upper class were going from their suppers to the theatre. Exquisite fragrances emanated from the ladies’ dresses. They all talked happily in their northern accent, discussing the upcoming performance.

  Ana realised that if her parents were still alive she might well have been in this kind of a street going to the theatre just like these people. She would have her ribs crushed by a corset. She would be wearing a bertha neckline dress with countless embroideries over several layers of petticoats. She doubted she would actually be able to walk with that, it would probably weigh more than her equipment.

  Ana walked against the flow of the crowd, in the direction of the Maria Pia bridge. It was the only way she could cross the Douro river at this hour without being detected. If she attempted to cross the Dom Luis I bridge, the police might stop her. On the other hand, the railway bridge ought to be deserted.

  Finally, she left the swarm in the direction of the fog. For the first time that night, she looked over the shoulder. No uniforms in sight. She didn’t expect the rogue sergeant to resist interrogation. Ana guessed they would be looking for her already.

  Her stomach was complaining. She had skipped dinner and had no food with her because the essential equipment alone was burden enough. She took a scarf from her pack and covered her head. She put on her leather gloves, then she looked around and jumped over the fence onto the railway track. The fog reduced visibility to a few feet in any direction.

  Ana had no idea what was inside the cylinder. It could be the secret blueprints of the latest airship or armoured car. It could be military plans. It could be information on forces and movements of troops. Maybe some brand-new type of weapon. The less she knew, the better.

  Soon she arrived at the bridge. She hadn’t seen any train and wished she had thought to check the timetables. Only she hadn’t. In fact, after she had seen the military police, she had stopped following the plan. Otherwise she would have had dinner by then and would be preparing to sleep in the safe house.

  The two tracks were not far apart. The moon was not shinning and there weren’t any lights on the iron-cast bridge. This was a railway-only bridge. Despite being an agent, she would be in serious trouble if she was found here. She progressed carefully, as one false step would plunge her 150 feet to her death.

  The steam engines were no longer slow, as they had been ten years ago. After the second steam revolution everything became more efficient and powerful. Steam-powered engines mined coal a lot faster, and that had a knock-on effect.

  She heard it before she saw it, the black engine approaching from behind. Without thinking, she jumped across to the other line, landing on her feet but losing her balance for a moment. Righting herself, she realised her mistake: she had jumped into the line carrying the train. Bending her knees, she jumped backwards, as she had done countless times in the training. The cargo train rushed past while she was still in the air. She felt it was taking forever to land. If she had miscalculated, at least she wouldn’t live long enough to regret the fact.

  She landed hard, winding herself. Her back hit the tracks painfully enough to leave her stunned. Then she felt herself sliding. Struggling to stay conscious, forcing her body to respond, she rolled and grabbed the nearest iron bar. It was a close one, another moment and she would have met her end. With her left hand, she pulled herself back to the rail line.

  She allowed herself a moment to lie still and recover her breath. The damn cylinder was still strapped to her leg. The back pain hadn’t gone away. She found it difficult to move even her toes, each attempt sending a shock up her spine to her neck.

  Her parents never had a proper trial. Ana clenched her fist every time she remembered. She could not forget the uniform worn by the news bearer. Black coat with the insignia on the shoulder and lapel. It was all black, including the cap and the shoes. She could smell the cologne. She guessed it was someone from the intelligence services. He was, at best, 25 and looked rather uneasy. She stood in her doorway, waiting for news.

  “Miss Sousa, I am here to inform you that your parents have been charged with treason. They will be hanged tomorrow at dawn.”

  She tried to feel sad or angry, but she felt only emptiness. An invasion of emptiness. The same thing she felt following her first kill. The poor cadet from the mechanised infantry tried to prevent her from leaving. He wasn’t much older than her. The blade came from her wrist and, before he could do anything, she had stabbed him in the chest. He opened his mouth, half astonished and half trying to scream, but he was unable to produce any sound. He grabbed her arm and pushed it away. Ana let him remove the knife. The blood sputtered from the wound and they both stared at it, surprised. So much blood, turning the situation into a mess. He grunted and tried to staunch the flow. Ana aimed for the neck, yet he grabbed the blade with his bare hands, slicing his fingers to the bone. She used all her strength, cutting through until she reached the spine. By then, they were both covered in carmine muck. She kept looking at him. His eyes widened and then he collapsed like an empty suit of armour. When she removed the blade, he was dead.

  She took a deep breath and rose slowly. Although the pain in her back was less intense, each step was a torture. At least she could walk. It would have been better to let herself fall from the bridge otherwise. She would never be taken alive.

  Ana was able to leave the railway line before another train came. Her legs were not responding well, and she felt clumsy. Even jumping over the fence took much more time than expected. She needed to stop and rest, only she couldn’t while still in the city. They were looking for her, she was sure of that. The clock was ticking.

  This side of the Douro river was much calmer. Most of those living here were workers. After a few yards, she started to see the effects of the war. Several houses had been reduced to piles of rubble. It was a daunting sight in the mist. The Zeppelin bombing campaign was producing results. The conflict between the Northern Monarchy and the Portuguese Republic had been going on for five years, ever since the Northern King proclaimed himself the ruler and declared independence.

  Ana had no idea what time it was. Some point in the middle of the night was not good enough. She navigated through the sea of red bricks until she found a church tower. The clock there told her it was almost one in the morning, so her time was running out. By morning, she wouldn’t have any hope of escaping. Weariness was defeating her. Her mind remained sharp but her body was not cooperating. Every joint ached and every muscle was stiff. Despite the discomfort, she pressed forward.

  She had met her superior four days earlier, in his office.

  “Miss Sousa...”

  The look she threw him was enough to stop him.

  “I apologise, Miss Ana, I mean Desert Spider, I have got an assignment for you...”

  She finally sat.

  “This is not a regular one and you may refuse it, though I believe you are the only one who can make it out alive.”

  He knew how to draw her attention.

  “We’ve already lost two of our best agents on this. Raul Teles, you have met him, right?”

  The bastard was trying to play with her feelings. Of course she knew Raul, he was one of her inst
ructors. Yet she couldn’t feel anything, and that upset her.

  “I will do it” she confirmed.

  While limping through the streets of Gaia, she started to regret that decision. How could she have been so arrogant to believe she could infiltrate the enemy’s capital, steal top military secrets and escape? The first two tasks were easy, but a whole country was after her now and she was still at least thirty miles from the border. No chance of covering that tonight. She needed a Plan B or she would be hanged by dawn.

  Then she saw the two policemen. They were just walking in her direction. Could her false papers pass close inspection? She had never faced two opponents at once before and had never fought in the middle of the street. Ana attempted to keep her step steady and continued in the same direction. Her heart was almost jumping out of her chest.

  They crossed the street and came towards her. By reflex, she unlocked the wrist mechanism. She had a spare knife in her belt but she was sure she would never be able to draw it.

  “Excuse me, miss, we need to speak with you,” the tallest said.

  She stopped and feigned surprise. Ana had no idea of the proper response in this situation. She smiled and clasped her hands in front of her lap.

  “Good evening officer, how may I help you?”

  “We need to check your identification” he said, standing in front of her.

  His colleague, clearly of lower rank, stood to the side. Ana took the forged papers from her waist pocket and handed them over to be inspected.

  “Miss Maria...”

  “Silva” she completed.

  His eyebrows rose and she understood her mistake, she had told him the wrong last name. There was only one solution. She activated the wrist mechanism.

  The first slash caught them by surprise. The officer threw his hands to his neck, trying to contain the blood from his slit throat. She attacked the other man the same way, only to strike metal as he lifted a defensive hand. He must have had arm protection. His other hand searched for his gun. Ana attempted to hold his wrist but she was no match for him. He pushed her and she fell backwards. The first officer collapsed at the same time. The second man drew his gun but hesitated for a moment, distracted by his fallen comrade.