The 7th of Victorica

by Beau Schemery

  “It’s just Sev, sir.”

  “Fine. Sev it is, then.” Lincoln produced a watch from his pocket and snapped it open. “Good heavens. Look at the time. Brown, Roth, and I should find a cab back to the hotel.”

  Sev shook his head. “Please, sir. You can stay here. We have plenty of room.”

  “Oh, yes suh.” Teddy bounced excitedly. “We can find a place for you in our New Undertown.”

  “I must confess to my curiosity.” Lincoln placed a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “Any objections, fellows?” Lincoln regarded Brown and Roth.

  “We’ve been assigned to protect you, sir,” Brown answered. “Where you go, we go.” Roth nodded in agreement.

  “It appears as though it’s settled.” Lincoln clapped his hands. “Lead the way, Teddy.” They disappeared, leaving Sev and Silas alone in the main warehouse.

  “I can barely bloody believe it,” Sev said as he watched them depart. “Abraham Bloody Lincoln.”

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” Silas asked.

  “Just a bit.” Sev turned and leaned against his closest friend.

  Silas enveloped him in a hug. “It’s all finally coming together.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sev said and pecked a kiss on Silas’s jaw. “We should go below as well.”

  Silas nodded, and they went into New Undertown.

  They weren’t surprised to see tables had been dragged into the street and many of their citizens were gathering to eat a meal with Lincoln. He stood tall among them, talking animatedly. He related anecdotes and stories as they listened with rapt attention. His honest smile was infectious, and they all returned it. Sev and Silas claimed seats on one of the benches and listened to the man’s easy conversation. Lincoln offered advice and guidance in the form of witty stories and conversation.

  It seemed obvious to Sev that the man was in his element, and he realized why Lincoln was such a successful politician and lawyer. Sev almost wished they still had presidents in Victorica, because he believed that positive things might occur with Lincoln in charge.

  They finished their meal and conversed late into the evening. Sev yawned and was just about ready to bid his guests a fond good-night when one of their scouts rushed into the New Undertown square. “Sirs!” he called.

  “Who is this fellow?” Lincoln asked.

  “Tipton,” Sev answered. “He’s one of our scouts.”

  “Aye, sirs. And I have news.”

  “Out with it, young man,” Lincoln said.

  “Hercules is here!” he said, gasping. “In the Booth Brothers’ Station, the private bay.”

  Sev rubbed his chin as he considered the news. “What does it do in that station?”

  “Refuels,” Tipton answered. “They offload some crates and whatnot, then load it up with all kind of sundries. Ain’t nobody knows exactly what. It takes a lot of cash back to the South.”

  “We need to stop it,” Rat growled. “Isn’t that what Midnight’s men said?”

  Sev nodded but said nothing.

  “Sev,” Silas whispered. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, what we’ve been preparing for.”

  “Aye, that it is.” Sev thought about the secret projects, nearly finished and stored in a set of hidden chambers near where they all stood. “Teddy, Rat, where are we on the special projects?”

  The two boys glanced at each other before Teddy answered, “The flyin’ machine is ready. The—others are nearly so. I’d say another day or two?” He looked at Rat for confirmation.

  Rat nodded. “Two days at the latest.”

  “And how long will the Hercules remain?” Silas asked.

  Tipton shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, sir. Maybe a day, maybe a week. They usually switch out the crew. That takes time. And the deliveries they take.”

  “Can we shave some time off the completion of the project?” Silas looked to Rat.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps not.”

  “Hold on a moment.” Lincoln raised a hand. “Are you suggesting these children put themselves in harm’s way?” Until this moment he’d only been watching the conversation.

  Sev sighed. “I’m afraid we are, sir.” He swept his hand out, indicating the gathered crowd. “They’ve agreed t’this. They know exactly what they’re gettin’ int’. We’ve had this discussion, and we see no other way.”

  “It worked in Blackside,” Rat added.

  Lincoln looked around, studying their faces. His frown was deep and his brow furrowed. Sev could see him silently working through the implications. Finally he spoke. “Can we delay the deliveries to Hercules or otherwise delay their departure?”

  “That’s fine thinkin’,” Sev said with an appreciative nod. “Well, can we?”

  “We can try.” Tipton shrugged.

  “Good.” Sev motioned for a few of the other children to join Tipton. “Do what ye can. The later they leave the better.”

  “Understood, sir,” Tipton said with a little salute. The other children joined him, and a few more tagged along as they left.

  Lincoln slapped the palm of his left hand with his right fist. “By God, this is our chance.”

  “With some luck, this little operation will put a large wrench in the South’s plans,” Silas said.

  “What is our plan? What are the secret projects?” Lincoln asked. “Or do you not yet trust me enough? Am I not allowed to know?” He fixed Sev and Silas with a stern stare. The two looked at each other for a moment, Sev tipping Silas a subtle nod.

  “We’re going to destroy the Hercules engine and appropriate the Southern supplies and money.”

  “Appropriate,” Lincoln repeated. “I suppose these are desperate times, though I cannot say this sits well with me.”

  “That’s a noble sentiment, Mr. Lincoln,” Sev said. “But our enemy isn’t playin’ by the rules, and we’re going’ t’have to address them on their own terms t’have any hope o’succeedin’ in our goal t’free their slaves.”

  Lincoln sighed. “It is a hard truth, Mr. Seven. But a truth nonetheless.” To Sev, the legendary figure seemed to shrink a bit, diminish under the weight of their situation. Sev felt sorry for him. He could tell it pained Lincoln to do something he considered morally wrong. Sev also knew that what was right wasn’t always what was good and moral. He considered himself lucky that the distinction was an easy choice in his mind but understood Lincoln’s reservations and his need to do good.

  “As far as the secret projects go,” Sev stated, trying to bring the conversation around to a subject Lincoln would be more comfortable with. “I’d be happy t’take ye down t’the workshop and show ye. I see no reason t’keep ’em a secret any longer.”

  Lincoln perked up instantly at the offer. “By all means, Sev. I would love to see what you young people have been cooking up.”

  “All right, then. Follow me.” Sev beckoned his guests to join him, leading them to the secret workshop with Silas in tow.

  SEV MARCHED up to the large barnlike doors and dragged them open. The interior was dark, but Sev knew where the torches sat on the walls. He lifted one and whispered a fire spell across the top, setting it ablaze. He jogged around the vast storage space lighting the others in their sconces. As the firelight filled the chamber, light spilled over the awed expressions on Lincoln’s, Brown’s, and Roth’s faces. Rat and Teddy slipped in behind them, smiling broadly. Silas remained as stoic as he could manage with only the slightest curve of his lip indicating his pleasure at their guests’ shock.

  Sev walked over to the objects of their admiration: three immense clockwork men. They weren’t as large as the Prometheus model they were based on, which had been piloted by three people. Sev reminded them of the design’s origin, its role in the Battle of Buckingham, and explained the innovations that allowed them to streamline the design for a single pilot.

  He continued, “They’re not quite as powerful as the original, but we’ve made some improvements t’the propulsion systems with a clockwork bac
kup fer the Faraday-Tesla batteries. They’re faster, more responsive.”

  “We been tryin’ t’figure out a way fer the movement of the clockworks t’recharge the batteries,” Rat chimed in. “Without much luck so far.”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Rat, I am not so well versed as you and your friends on all this technical jargon. Why is that necessary?” Lincoln asked.

  Rat clucked his teeth and took a deep pull on his pipe. He allowed the smoke to seep out his nostrils before he answered. “Well, we had t’use less batt’ries, din’t we? The brothers’re smaller than Prometheus and can’t carry as many.”

  “The brothers?” Lincoln frowned.

  “That’s just what we call the machines,” Sev answered with a chuckle. “Atlas, Menoetius, and Epimetheus. They’re named after Prometheus’s siblings.”

  “Ah. Clever, very clever.” Lincoln smiled and nodded. “I’ve a friend who may be suited to helping you in your electrical endeavors,” he told them. “A young, upstart scientist, though he laughs the term off, who has managed to slip unnoticed by the South. His name is Edison. And I believe he may be between employment at the moment.”

  “We’ll welcome any help we can get,” Silas said.

  “I’ll send for him in the morning. If I’m not mistaken, he’s staying with a friend in the city.” Lincoln walked over and ran a hand over the wooden and metal chassis of the Atlas model.

  “That one’s mine.” Silas stepped up behind him. “Atlas. He’s a little bigger because he’s built to my measurements.”

  “Absolutely amazing,” Lincoln said in a breathy whisper. “What does our future hold if a marvel like this exists in our time?”

  “Wonders yet unimagined, Mr. Lincoln,” Sev answered, knowing the question rhetorical and not caring.

  “Very eloquent, Seven.” Lincoln stopped inspecting Atlas and patted Sev on the arm. “Will you show me to my quarters? I must confess to feeling quite tired.”

  “May I?” Teddy stepped forward and asked.

  “O’course,” Sev said.

  “Follow me, Mistuh Lincoln.” Teddy bounded off, Lincoln and his bodyguards following close behind.

  “That’s me as well,” Silas stated on the back of a yawn. “I think I’m going to turn in.”

  “D’ye mind terribly if I stay down here and work on the brothers fer a bit?” Sev asked.

  Silas shook his head. “Certainly not. I suppose our trip for Lee and Jackson is postponed.”

  “I’d forgotten all about it,” Sev stated with a frown. “I’ll have to send word that we’ve been delayed. Tomorrow, though, not tonight.”

  “No. Of course not.” Silas motioned to the trio of constructs. “Good luck with all this. Don’t stay up too late.” Silas leaned in, presumably to plant a kiss on Sev’s forehead, but stopped himself. He gave Sev’s shoulder a squeeze. They’d taken to self-censoring their overt affection in front of the new recruits.

  “I won’t,” Sev promised, hoping he wasn’t lying. Silas regarded him with what Sev might describe as amused suspicion but ultimately left him to his task.

  Rat watched them with obvious disinterest, and when Silas had disappeared, Rat called out to the New Undertowners they’d been training for proper tinkering. “All right, fellas. Let’s get t’work.” He puffed a cloud of acrid smoke, and they all turned their attentions to the task at hand.

  23

  SILAS WASN’T surprised when he awoke alone in the bed he and Sev usually shared. He rose, washed up, and walked out through the office to find the main floor of the warehouse buzzing with activity. Teddy’s sisters sat in the center of the commotion, directing children here and there. Silas scanned the room, looking for Sev or Rat, but saw neither. Silas descended the stairs, walked up to Philson and Nichols, and placed a hand on their shoulders. “What’s all this?”

  “Oh, good morning, Silas,” Philson said, turning to him and smiling. “We’re gathering information from some of our friends in the streets. If you’re looking for Seven and Rat, they’re still in the lower levels, and they’re still sleeping.”

  Silas chuckled softly. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Mr. Kettlebent,” Lincoln called, weaving through the crowd of New Undertowners. “Mr. Kettlebent! Silas.” He raised a hand in greeting.

  “Mr. Lincoln,” Silas said. “I trust you slept well?”

  Lincoln rubbed his lower back with both hands, leaned away from Silas, and cracked his spine. “Well, Silas, these old bones aren’t as accommodating as they once were, but other than a little stiffness, I slept just fine.”

  “Have you eaten breakfast?”

  “I have yet to partake. I wanted to send word to my man, Edison, first thing.”

  “Care to join me?” Silas asked.

  “By all means,” Lincoln answered. “I have a few concerns I’d like to clear up about our assault on Hercules. Maybe a few suggestions as well.”

  “I’m eager to hear your thoughts, sir. Shall we?” Silas offered Lincoln the lead, and they wove through the throng of gathered children.

  ONCE IN New Undertown, they queued up in Walt’s Canteen, where Teddy’s older brother cooked for most of the underground populace. Silas and Lincoln spoke briefly to Walt as they were served their breakfast and then looked over the mismatched tables for a place to sit. Philson, Nicholas, Brown, and Roth beckoned the pair to one of the larger seating areas in the rear corner. “Good morning, friends.” Lincoln placed his tray on the table.

  The six men exchanged polite greetings before Lincoln and Silas tucked into their meals. The British agents and their Victorican counterparts discussed the upcoming plans, debating where the best place to make their attack would be. “I still believe we need to catch the behemoth just as it departs,” Philson stated.

  “Too dangerous.” Mason Brown motioned with a speared sausage on his fork. “There won’t be enough room to maneuver, and the station is always heavily guarded.”

  Lincoln laid his fork on his plate. “I’ve—” He held up a finger, curled his hand into a fist, and held it in front of his mouth as he finished chewing. “I’ve actually had a few thoughts on that very subject.” He looked at Silas. “What are our plans for the Hercules and its cargo once we have secured it?”

  “That’s a good question,” Silas said. “I wish I had a good answer. If I know Sev, he’s just planning on us destroying the engine and plundering its cargo for our own effort.”

  Lincoln nodded. “I think that would be a mistake.”

  “What do you suggest, sir?” Roth asked.

  “I think simply destroying the Hercules would be a waste of resources and opportunity. Certainly its destruction would be a hindrance to the South, but if we were to stop it rather than destroy it, we could use it to our advantage even further.” Lincoln scooped up his fork once more and ate a few more bites. He swallowed and continued. “Are you familiar with the Compound? It is rumored to be the central base of operations for whatever it is they are planning. Some claim they’re raising an army and preparing to wrest control of the Victorican colonies back from Great Britain.”

  “I’ve heard they’re amassin’ an army of the dead,” Roth whispered.

  “Don’t be silly, Roth. That’s preposterous.” Brown waved dismissively.

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss any possibility, were I you, Mr. Brown.” Lincoln scowled. “Regardless, we can assume that if the Compound is the heart of the Southern campaign, then the Hercules will end its journey there.

  “If we were to commandeer the locomotive rather than destroy it, we would have a ticket through the Southern line and directly into the beating heart of the Brotherhood’s operations. That would give us access to whatever it is they’re assembling or amassing. We may find ourselves in a position to put a stop to their plans from the inside.”

  Silas paused, a forkful of breakfast nearly to his mouth. “Like a great big mechanical Trojan horse.”

  “Precisely.” Lincoln sat back with a satisfied grin. �
��Therefore, it would make the most sense for us to attack the behemoth outside the city, somewhere secluded and sparsely populated.”

  “That’s very good, sir,” Nicholas said with some awe in his voice.

  “We’ll offload their supplies and replace them with our people.” Silas dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “We could fit a small army on those cars.”

  “Mr. Seven can create one of these underground chambers to hide the supplies until such time as we can move them,” Lincoln suggested.

  Silas nodded. “This is going to take some time.”

  “That is something we don’t have.” Lincoln looked around the table. “Brown, Roth, you must go to General Grant and secure transport for our troops.”

  “Yes, sir.” Brown saluted.

  “Philson, Nicholas,” Silas said, “that means it will be up to you to get our people and supplies together.”

  “We can do that, sir,” Philson answered. “I’ll find rough dimensions on the Hercules to estimate how much it can hold.”

  “Good, do it. It’ll be faster than we are. We need to get as much of a head start on it as we can.” Silas removed his pocket watch and flipped it open. “If we can be ready by nightfall, we may just pull this off.”

  “We’ll start right now.” Roth rose from his seat. He beckoned his partner along, and Philson and Nicholas joined them.

  Lincoln and Silas sat alone at the table and continued to discuss their plan. “We’ll use the brothers to attack the train.” Silas took another bite.

  “Are they bulletproof?” Lincoln asked.

  “No.” Silas shook his head. “They’re armored but not impervious.”

  “We’ll need to neutralize the gun turret in that case.” Lincoln fiddled with his napkin.

  “We’ve had some ideas in regards to that.” Silas scraped up the last of his meal and finished it off. “What concerns me is how we’ll get the brothers to the intercept point without being spotted.”