The Doomsday Vault ce-1

by Steven Harper

  “THIRSTY.”

  A high-pitched whine shrilled through the air as the cannon powered up. Gavin swung Tree around and smacked a switch. Water jetted from a hollow branch and struck Barton’s cannon. The lights along the barrel shattered, and the cannon trembled. Its whine became a scream, and Gavin had to fight not to clap his hands over his ears.

  “Keep pumping!” he shouted to Alice.

  “ ‘The little dog laughed to see such sport’!” Barton barked from the tower. Water continued to crash over the cannon. And then it exploded.

  The entire top of the tower went up in a spectacular firework of light and stone. Heat washed over them and blasted Tree’s leaves. An enormous boulder splashed into the water next to them. Tree stumbled backward into the river, every branch swaying, and Gavin clung to his chair for dear life. Alice looked seasick-or perhaps treesick. After a moment, Tree recovered his roots. Gavin took a deep breath.

  “Is everyone all right?” he asked.

  “LEAFY.”

  “I am, Mr. Ennock,” Alice called. “You were incredible!”

  “We need to track down Barton,” Gavin said evenly, though he was sure he had died and gone to heaven. “I don’t think the explosion would have destroyed that mechanical of his.”

  “I agree. Perhaps we should-”

  A boulder slammed into Tree, knocking him backward. Gavin experienced a sharp jerk, a moment of weightlessness, and a cold shock. River water exploded in all directions as Tree went down. More water filled Gavin’s mouth and nose, and he strained against the straps that held him in his chair and the pack that held him down. Desperately, he tried to undo them all, but the buckles were stubborn. He hadn’t grabbed a good breath before he’d gone under, and his lungs were already crying for air. He could see the surface that cruelly was less than two feet above him. Panic tightened his muscles, and he tried to force himself to work methodically at the buckles, but the water made the leather treacherous and difficult. Black spots swam in his vision. His lungs begged for a spoonful of air.

  He felt a sharp tug, and the straps fell away. An arm hauled at him, and, with his last strength, he kicked free of the chair and pack. A second later he broke the surface and inhaled sweet, clear air. His feet stood on the river bottom, and Alice stood next to him, brandishing a knife. Tree lay beside them, half-submerged and unmoving.

  “Are you all right?” Alice asked. Water streamed from her long brown hair, and her face, shining with beauty and concern, was less than a foot from his. He became aware that her other arm was around his body. Rose petals floated all around them.

  “I think so,” he panted. His jacket, soaked through, pulled heavily at him, and his cap had vanished. “Where did you get a knife?”

  “I never go anywhere without the tools my aunt gave me.”

  Another boulder exploded into the water only a few feet away, and they dived away from it, making for the shore. Standing near the ruined tower was Patrick Barton’s mechanical, a little worse for wear, but evidently still functional. He was already reaching for another boulder.

  Alice glanced over her shoulder at the river. “He hurt Tree. The. . the cad! The puppy!”

  “We should get under cover until we can figure out what to do,” Gavin said.

  “I know what to do, Mr. Ennock,” she said, and stormed straight toward Barton over a path of ruined roses. She had lost her hat, and water poured from her dress in a river of its own. Gavin irrationally thought of the stories of King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. Then he realized what she was doing and dashed forward.

  “Miss Michaels! Alice! What-” The boulder smacked into the ground just ahead of him. Heart pounding, Gavin dodged behind a rock pile and peered over the top. Alice was still walking straight toward Barton in his mechanical. The mechanical picked up yet another rock and hefted it like a boy ready to bring down a bird with a broken wing. Alice, her wet dress clinging to her body, stopped a few paces in front of him. Rose petals from the river dotted her hair.

  “Mr. Barton!” Alice shouted. “Your Boadicea has arrived. May I blow you a kiss?”

  She’s gone completely crazy, Gavin thought. She’s gone crazy and he’s going to kill her.

  But Barton paused. From inside the glass bubble, he peered down at her, and Gavin thought he saw a grin slide across his face.

  “My queen!” he said. “Why are you wet?”

  “I have crossed the wide ocean to be with you, my king,” Alice said. “And now that we’re together, nothing will stop us from ruling the world!”

  Gavin stared. What the hell?

  “Open your bubble and receive my blessing, O my king,” she continued. “Prove your love to me!”

  “You’re trying to trick me,” Barton said. “You’re a queen of spades.” He raised the boulder again, and Gavin’s heart lurched.

  “You refuse your queen?” Alice’s voice rose to a shriek. “Then watch my blood spill across the ground, for I cannot live without you!” She raised the knife and held it over her breast. Gavin gathered himself to lunge for her.

  “Wait!” Barton set the boulder aside. “I love you, my queen. I can’t bear to see you in pain.” The bubble hissed and slid back, though Barton made no move to come down. “Climb up and receive my love.”

  “With pleasure, my king.” From her sleeve Alice pulled a pair of tuning forks and brandished them like a pair of swords. Gavin slapped his own jacket pockets and discovered them empty. As the startled Barton watched, Alice clanged the forks together. From Gavin’s vantage point, the tritone was thin and weak, but Barton was only a few feet away from it. He clapped his hands over his ears and howled. The tone died down, but Alice struck the forks again to keep it going. Gavin didn’t wait. He burst out of hiding and swarmed up the mechanical to the seat where Barton screamed. One practiced punch put the man out. Gavin shook his stinging fist and looked down at Alice.

  “Boadicea?”

  “I’ll explain later.” Alice sighed. “We should check on Tree.”

  Tree, it turned out, was already struggling to an upright position in the river. Water rushed from his branches and bedraggled foliage, and a chunk of the brass vines had been torn away.

  “SLEEP,” he said, and went still.

  Gavin sloshed into the water and climbed into the branches, where he retrieved the machine pack. Alice had slashed the straps with her knife, and water had shorted out all the machinery. Still, he sloshed back ashore with it.

  “Wireless is dead,” he said. “No way to contact London for a pickup. We’ll have to make camp here tonight.”

  “What about Mr. Barton?” Alice gestured at the man in question, who now lay sprawled on the ground near his mechanical.

  Gavin produced a small bottle from a drawer on the pack. “Laudanum. It’ll keep him quiet until we can get back. Let’s check the tower and see if it’s livable for the night.”

  The first floor of the tower contained a single room with a stove and a small bed. The upper floor, destroyed in the explosion, had apparently been the laboratory. “At least he didn’t set traps and machines down here,” Gavin said. “I’m too tired to hunt them down. Let’s get Barton in here before he wakes up.”

  “Oh!” Alice put a hand to her mouth. “In all the excitement-how could I have forgotten?”

  She rushed outside. Gavin hurried after her. The late-evening air was damp and chilly, and night birds called. Tree formed a tall shadow at the edge of the river. Already Alice was climbing into the mechanical.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Miss Michaels!”

  She dropped into the seat, her wet skirts sticking to her legs, and examined the machinery in the rapidly fading light. “Nothing’s labeled,” she muttered. “So how does it work?”

  She pulled a lever, and the mechanical’s right arms swung down and around. Gavin ducked beneath it just in time. “Oh dear! Sorry, Mr. Ennock!”

  “What in-?”

  “If that’s right, then this one is left.” The mechanic
al’s left arm swung, but this time nowhere near Gavin. “And these are the feet.” The mechanical stomped in place. “This must be the bubb-” The glass dome snapped shut. Gavin retreated to a safe distance, watching Alice fiddle with the switches and levers inside the mechanical, until at last the front popped open and machine parts spilled out onto the grass. Of course! The machines Alice had been so hot to find. The bubble opened and Alice scrambled down to the ground, where she sorted frantically through the materials until she came up with three hatbox-sized automatons. These she stacked like firewood and struggled to pick up.

  “Let me help with that,” Gavin volunteered.

  “I’ll do it, Mr. Ennock,” she snapped. “Please leave them alone.”

  He stepped back and let her haul them into the tower. She set them on the stone floor while he built a fire in the stove. His wet clothes were starting to chill him, and it would only get worse as the night wore on.

  “Check that wardrobe over there, would you?” Gavin asked as he tried to coax larger flames. “See if Barton has any spare clothes.”

  Barton did. Though a little large for Gavin, they would do for the moment. Alice obligingly turned her back while Gavin scrambled out of his wet things and into some of Barton’s dry ones. In the process, he found the silver nightingale still in his pocket, and he hoped it hadn’t been damaged. The dry clothes felt immensely better, in any case, though he was forced to remain barefoot. He held out a set of trousers and a shirt to Alice.

  “You should put these on,” he said. “They aren’t women’s things, but you’ll catch your death in those wet skirts.”

  “I couldn’t,” Alice said.

  “You have to. I don’t want you catching a chill or pneumonia.”

  “You don’t understand, Mr. Ennock,” Alice said. Her face flushed red in the firelight. “This dress requires assistance. I can’t reach the buttons and laces.”

  “Really? Oh. Um. . I guess I could. .”

  “No,” she said evenly, “you definitely could not.”

  “I don’t mean anything. . you know.” He gestured helplessly. “I could just undo the buttons and turn away while you handle the rest.”

  “Including the unmentionables?”

  Now Gavin flushed. “Oh. Right. But you can’t stay wet all night. You’ll get sick.”

  She sighed. “Hand me that knife, please, and turn your back.”

  He obeyed, though he had to admit that the intriguing sounds of ripping cloth were a little exciting, and he forced himself to stare at a single block of stone, memorize its contours, and not think about the fact that the woman he had dreamed about for more than a year was standing half-naked-maybe even completely naked-only a yard behind him. His heart pounded faster than it had when Tree had fallen into the river.

  “You may turn around now,” Alice said.

  Gavin did. Alice looked strange in trousers, though she wore Barton’s shirt untucked, like a tunic, to create the illusion of a short dress. She had twisted her hair back up, and the firelight playing over her face and neck lent her warm brown eyes a glow that set Gavin’s heart racing again. She held a handful of tattered red blossoms.

  “Great,” he said. “You look great. Where did the roses come from?”

  “They were caught in among my things.”

  “Even something damp and bedraggled can be pretty,” he said without thinking.

  There was a pause, and Gavin flushed.

  “I feel strange,” Alice said. Her dress lay in rags at her feet. “And immodest. Like an Ad Hoc lady.”

  “Everything’s covered up,” he replied. “No one will know but me, and I’ll never tell, Miss Michaels.”

  “I believe you.” She sighed, and a certain amount of tension seemed to leave her. “Thank you.”

  Gavin recovered himself. “Let’s see if we can find any food. I’m starved.”

  Barton had a stash of canned fruit and beans. While they were eating, the man started to come around, and Gavin forced some laudanum-laced water down his throat. He quieted quickly.

  “Are you sure he’s not contagious?” Alice asked anxiously. They were sitting at a rough set of table and chairs pulled near the stove for warmth. The damp roses lay scattered on the table between them, scenting the air.

  “Very sure,” Gavin said. “Clockworkers do something to the clockwork plague, or the clockwork plague does something to clockworkers. We don’t know how it works or why, but clockworkers don’t spread the disease. If they did, I’d be dead by now.”

  “How many clockworkers have you encountered since you joined. . them?”

  “The Third Ward?”

  “I can’t talk about it directly. Your. . superior saw to that.”

  “Right. Standard procedure.” Gavin moved beans around in the tin with his spoon. “I’ve encountered three or four, not counting the ones we keep at headquarters. And I work with Doctor Clef all the time.”

  “What’s it like?” Alice leaned forward slightly, as if hungry for something other than beans and peaches.

  He flashed a wide grin at her. “It’s scary as hell-sorry-but it’s also the greatest job I’ve ever had. I fly to new places and see new people all the time, and the inventions are incredible. Tree is the just the beginning.”

  “Tell me about the inventions,” Alice said.

  “Well, Professor K. is working on a way to grow a copy of a living creature from a bit of its flesh or blood. He’s done mice and sheep, but Lieutenant Phipps says if he manages humans, she’ll put his research into the Doomsday Vault. Master Prakash, a clockworker from India, is working on a camera that creates photographs instantly. His lab tends to explode at least once a week, so we have to be careful. And Doctor Clef is still working on his Impossible Cube. I also had him cook up more of that alloy that floats when you pump a current through it.”

  “It sounds incredible.” Alice sighed. “I envy you, Mr. Ennock.”

  “Then why did you say no when Phipps asked you to join?” Gavin blurted out. “We could even have been partners.”

  For a moment, Gavin thought she might refuse to answer. Then she sighed again. “I couldn’t.”

  “You worry a lot about couldn’t, Miss Michaels,” Gavin said.

  “My father was tens of thousands of pounds in debt, Mr. Ennock, and after a lot of work, I managed to catch the eye of a wealthy man who was willing to marry me, despite my advanced age and lack of means. I was also afraid. .” She trailed off, flushing a little.

  “Of what?”

  “Er. . that I wasn’t suited to the job,” she finished lamely.

  There was clearly more to it than that, but Gavin didn’t press the issue. In the spirit of being straightforward, he said, “Well, I wish you had joined. You’d be a hell-sorry-heck of a field agent. Besides,” he hurried to add before he could lose courage, “I miss you.”

  She smiled tightly and patted his hand across the table. “Thank you, Mr. Ennock.”

  The air went out of him. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. So much for straightforward. Well, what had he expected? A sudden declaration of undying love? She was engaged, for God’s sake.

  The fire crackled in the stove, putting out a welcome warmth. Gavin took the nightingale out of his pocket and set it on the table near the roses.

  “What is that?” Alice asked.

  “A sort of friend gave it to me.” He touched the bird’s head, and the nightingale sang its sweet little song.

  “Hm. It lacks soul.” She paused. “Mr. Ennock, would you. . sing for me?”

  He blinked. “Sing?”

  “I remember your singing voice,” she said. “I’d very much like to hear it again.”

  “Sure.” He glanced out one of the tower’s narrow windows and saw the moon rising through Tree’s branches. The silvery light slanted across the floor and played across Alice’s face. “How about a lullaby?”

  “Whatever you prefer.”

  Gavin sang.

  I see the moon; the moon sees me.<
br />
  It turns all the forest soft and silvery.

  The moon picked you from all the rest

  For I loved you best.

  As the final line left his mouth, he realized what he had just sung. He flashed back to the moment he had sung “The Wraggle Taggle Gypsy” at Third Ward headquarters, when he had carefully chosen a song in which a woman left a man she didn’t love for a man-a musician-she did. Now he had just done the same thing, but by accident-he was thinking of the moon in the trees and had forgotten about the final line. He hurried on.

  I once had a heart as good as new.

  But now it’s gone from me to you.

  The moon picked you from all the rest

  For I loved you best.

  That only made it worse. The hell with it. If he was trapped in the song, he might as well sing with every bit of power he had. He closed his eyes and put his heart into every word.

  I have a ship; my ship must flee.

  Sailing o’er the clouds and on the silver sea.

  The moon picked you from all the rest

  For I loved you best.

  That made him think of the Juniper, forever lost among the clouds. Abruptly, he forgot Alice, forgot the Third Ward, forgot everything. He longed to soar again, go back to his true home, and he found tears gathering at the backs of his eyes.

  I picked a rose; the rose picked me,

  Underneath the branches of the forest tree.

  The moon picked you from all the rest

  For I loved you best.

  He opened his eyes. A single rose from the bunch on the table was lying near his arm on the table. Had it been there before? He couldn’t remember. He looked at Alice, but her face was impassive.

  “Thank you, Mr. Ennock,” she said.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Michaels.”

  “I think after everything we’ve been through we can use our Christian names. Please call me Alice.”

  “If you’ll call me Gavin.”

  “I shall, Gavin.” She pulled a damp handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at one eye. “Pollen.” She sniffed delicately. “We should think of the sleeping arrangements.”

  “You can have Barton’s cot over there.” Gavin gestured. “I’ll take the floor near Barton himself in case he wakes up. I think we could find a way to string a curtain or something for you, if-”