Syndicatus Evolutio

by M J Moores

  “Over this way, if you please,” came Bennett’s voice as he exited the small hangar, waving to someone inside. A walking clockwork platform, slung low to the ground, slowly carried out a weather balloon far smaller than Louisa had anticipated. From the look on Bennett’s face, he wasn’t impressed either. The older gentleman serving as ground crew followed along behind the mechanism. At least the balloon was inflated. It bobbed a good story-and-a-half above their heads, the red paint making the eight-foot radius seem larger.

  “Thank you, Tom,” Bennett said, dismissing the old guy.

  Tom nodded and tugged on the brim of his tweed flat cap before disappearing back into the hangar. Bennett frowned at the balloon, its basket tied to the stationary walker. He sighed just as Louisa finished setting out their supplies, then turned away from the hangar and crouched down beside her.

  She didn’t ask outright what was wrong—she knew; she just didn’t know why it happened. He glanced over at her and caught her enquiring gaze.

  “Sterling insisted on having the larger balloon.”

  “Sterling? What’s he got to do with this?”

  “Apparently, he’s moved up his test launch to tomorrow afternoon and has demanded today to prepare for it.”

  “But, I thought you arranged time with the airfield well in advance of today? What about other balloons? Surely, they have more than one large one?”

  “Aye, but they’re in use. They set only one aside. Sterling doesn’t want me getting the upper hand here. Doesn’t want my research pulling ahead of his. Likely, he convinced his supporters to convince the field’s owners to give him preferential treatment.”

  “Convinced …? Oh, you mean bribed them? Is he that underhanded?”

  Bennett pulled back a little at her abrupt language then shrugged it off. “He always had a devious streak. He was ahead of me in school. Started late and finished long. Still, he had some excellent ideas. Well”—Bennett reached for the first of four compressed air tools turned directional thrusters—“we’d best make do with what we’ve got. Can you open the basket’s hatch?”

  Louisa removed the panel covering the balloon’s lift sensor. It could be raised and lowered manually from the ground or automatically via barometric pressure. She’d never seen such a sophisticated system of gears before—not even on the princess’s worktable. Everything attached to an external winch on the walker.

  Bennett stared at the machine and shook his head.

  “What’s wrong?” Louisa asked, wincing from the prolonged crouch and her sore legs.

  He sighed. “This unit is too small.”

  Something told Louisa that wasn’t the only reason.

  “I’ll have to release the dispersal spheres manually. If the test goes well, we’ll be able to integrate the automated unit for the official launch, but not for tomorrow’s test.”

  “Sterling knew this would set you back, didn’t he?” she asked.

  “Likely, but we’ve no proof.”

  “Again.”

  He turned to Louisa, concern etched into his brow. “We need to stay positive. Just because someone tried to steal the spheres last night doesn’t mean he had anything to do with it. Inspector Hersh said his constable saw nothing to link the thieves to Sterling or his people.”

  “Maybe if he’d been doing his job he might have,” she muttered.

  “What? What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

  Louisa’s face flushed hot and she stammered, “I—I’m assuming he wasn’t watching the warehouse if they nearly got away with everything. I mean, if he’d been patrolling where the Inspector asked him to, he might have seen more than just a couple of random thieves running away. We’d have more information.”

  “While that may be true, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” He looked down.

  “Something else is bothering you.”

  A stray curly stand of hair floated down in front of her face. She never could keep her locks conformed and often worked with a loose bun instead. Today, the severe draw back from her forehead was intended to give her greater freedom, as were her clothes.

  “Sterling’s a showman. No doubt he’ll make a lot of noise about the tests. I’m not ready for that. He welcomes it.” Bennett’s gaze lingered a moment on the thin ringlet before meeting her eyes. They held a question she couldn’t identify.

  Her skin tingled. They were far closer than society deemed acceptable for a man and a woman—and yet, for two colleagues of the same gender this wouldn’t have caused either of them pause.

  He broke their connection and closed the panel, reaching for the compressed air gun instead.

  “Grab the couplings, Lou. We’ll take what we learn today and apply it tomorrow to the larger balloon. Let’s see if we can get this duckling into fighting shape.”

  Louisa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and wondered if the same could be said about a different bird.

  Hurry Up and Wait

  “M

  untz-watcher,” Louisa cursed under her breath the next morning. She dropped her gear by the small weather balloon, looked up and blushed at Bennett’s wide eyes and rigid stature.

  Dear goodness, did I say that aloud? She gave an apologetic smile as her heart leaped into her throat. She turned to look over their handiwork from yesterday morning. Don’t mess this up.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Bennett pulled out the nets to hold the dispersal spheres but something in his tone belied his joviality toward her choice of words.

  Louisa knew it wasn’t her place to say anything, but this was way off the gentleman’s rules of engagement.

  “How is it Mr. Sterling continues to get preferential treatment? There’s no reason the Sky Port couldn’t hold back an extra balloon today. Has he no couth?”

  “Technically, we don’t know who’s behind this, but Gerald is determined to undermine my entire project to gain the Crown’s favor. At least we don’t have to transfer the propulsion rig to a new basket. Save some time. The winds must be really blowin’ up there. If we’re not careful, we’ll miss our window.”

  Bennett secured the catches on the nets—on either side of the baskets—as Louisa pried the lids off the four casks.

  “Hold up there, Lou. Don’t empty the last one.” Bennett stood tall and rubbed his smooth chin. “I’ll have to go up and disperse them manually with this rig. Need to recalculate the weight for the lift of this smaller balloon. I won’t get all the spheres in.” A shadow of concern darkened his features.

  Louisa frowned as the pry bar dangled loosely beside her leg. The clouds held promise today, but only if the experiment followed Bennett’s calculations to the letter.

  “Fill them up evenly and I’ll work out how much of the fourth barrel we can use.” He pulled a small booklet and pencil from his vest pocket and wandered toward the hangar, lost in thought.

  A racket of rattling steam landaus, hired Steamies, cyclists, and more followed a white and brass landau leading the circus toward the adjoining airfield.

  “Sterling,” Louisa spat as she worked to fill the four nets with three loads of dispersal orbs. The man’s test launch wasn’t scheduled until that afternoon, and yet there he was with an entourage of epic proportions. She hadn’t known exactly what Master Bennett meant yesterday about a hoopla; now she did.

  A few of the Steamies and carriages turned toward their field, but the majority hunkered around the pompous idiot as he exited his equally pretentious landau.

  Bennett walked out of the hangar, deep in thought over his notes. A sudden gust forced him back a step, and he glanced up at the noise. His back and shoulders stiffened as he gaped at the people exiting their vehicles—here—then he jogged over to shake hands, his calculations forgotten. This was supposed to be a quiet first test. The second launch would confirm findings and be the one his supporters were invited to. Clearly, they chose to ignore Bennett’s requests or were drawn here because of Sterling’s grandiose behavior
.

  Louisa spent nearly twenty minutes filling the nets before placing her hands on her hips and staring at the two crowds of vastly differing proportions. Sterling’s amplified voice carried across the field—unclear but persistent. She didn’t want to disturb Bennett with his backers, but Louisa needed to know the numbers for the launch weight to finish filling the nets. This wasn’t enough to ensure a proper seeding.

  A sandy-haired reporter waved his notebook above the heads of those assembled around Bennett. Louisa forced herself to approach the slowly expanding crowd as the master became swallowed by the sheer mass of people, trapped in multiple conversations at once. Louisa opened her new pocket watch and checked the time.

  We’re behind.

  Backing away from the excited crowd, Louisa tugged a scrap of paper and a pencil nub from her tool pouch and leaned against the side of the hangar, searching her memory for formulas she still didn’t understand.

  “Blast,” she muttered. “I can’t remember a bloody one.”

  But she did remember the basics—they’d gone over those figures tens of times. She jotted down the weight of each orb, the lift capacity of the smaller balloon, and factored in her own weight instead of guessing Bennett’s. She could tweak the numbers afterward, depending on what they told her.

  Louisa scribbled out a series of sums three times, then gave a defeated sigh and looked up as a small shadow of movement caught her eye. It shifted just left of the field, past the far side of the hangar. Her skin prickled. She hurried around the side of the building just as a dwarf raced toward Sterling’s crowd across the field.

  “What is going on? What have you done?”

  Louisa turned and ran back to the balloon. Everything looked as she’d left it. She yanked on the net moorings, checked the release clasps—all in rapid succession. And then she spotted it. The hatch door didn’t quite close.

  She dropped to her knees and pulled it open. A myriad of gears, coils, and latches interconnected with the barometer’s pressure leaver. The mechanism blurred in a confusion of shapes.

  Focus, Louisa. He was here for a reason. Figure it out. She blinked, took a deep breath, and stared at the barometer. Working outward, from there she traced how each part connected to the next and interconnected with Bennett’s added workings for the directional thrusters and over to—

  “There!” A small space gaped where a cog should have been. Without it, the barometer wouldn’t affect the altitude and the balloon would only release so far.

  Bug had it.

  Louisa hurried, without drawing undue attention, into the hangar and over to the office. She rapped on the door until a sign in the window fluttered to the ground: Back in 10.

  “What!” The launch was on the hour. By the time the mechanic returned and fixed the issue, the delay would force them to use a less-than-ideal cloud. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let Sterling win. Louisa rattled the handle but the door refused to open. A parts cabinet stood behind the desk, its shiny lock glinting back at her.

  “Arugh!” She needed Shadow Phoenix. Louisa was useless as herself.

  Or am I?

  Louisa scrambled back around the side of the hangar just in time to see Bug disappear into the Sterling crowd across the field.

  I have to get over there, fast …

  She circled around to the parking area, not much more than a gravel patch amid dried grasses, and caught sight of several bicycles—one of which had an electric motor. Louisa grabbed the gadget, wheeled it to the other side of the building away from Bennett’s crowd, flicked the switch, and sped off like a madwoman.

  With no idea what she should do, Louisa knew she had to do something.

  At the edge of the next field, she dropped the bike and approached a startled woman edging the crowd.

  “Excuse me, did you happen to see a very short man run by just now?”

  The woman clutched her dry, wrinkled neckline with a pair of white kid gloves before inclining her head toward the middle of the mass of bodies.

  Sterling’s voice boomed out over those gathered and introduced yet another supporter—talking more about the man than what his money had gone toward.

  Louisa slipped past the matron. She knew Bug wouldn’t just blend in with the crowd to disappear. He was on a mission. The man at the mansion two nights ago had warned him not to mess up again. That meant he had to either check back with Scythe or prove to someone on Sterling’s payroll that he’d accomplished his mission.

  Ah, ha!

  The hangar loomed high the closer she got to the other side of the crowd. But it wasn’t that huge building which caught her attention, it was the much smaller out-building beside it—the offices.

  Louisa caught herself before she barreled out past the last line of supporters as Scythe rounded the smaller structure, gaze lowered but watchful all the same. Louisa held her breath and faced the makeshift stage and mass of reporters taking photos and asking questions. She watched the human blade from the corner of her eye, counting to ten after Scythe slipped inside the office. Louisa strolled away from the crowd. Unfortunately, as the only woman present wearing slacks and a vest, she stood out more than she liked. Still, Louisa managed to slip behind the building.

  Excellent.

  This office had the same layout as the one attached to the smaller hangar. She leaned toward the window and caught sight of Bug and Scythe, but they weren’t alone. A man in a maroon, knee-length frock coat stood with his back to the window and his cane pointed right at Bug. Scythe nudged him with a knee to the back, which seemed to be exactly what the thief needed. He stepped forward and opened his palm. The missing cog rested on display for the tall gentleman, who nodded and collected the piece, placing it in his breast pocket.

  Nation. Now what? Huh? Come on, Louisa, think.

  Bug and Scythe seemed content to remain inside the office as the tall man took his leave.

  Go. Now!

  Louisa raced around to the front and careened right into the man.

  “Oh! Please forgive me. Have you seen the mechanic?” Louisa grabbed hold of the man’s frock and kept him from tumbling over backward. “I think his name is Thomas—Tom. I need to find him.” She smoothed out his jacket just before he waved her off with a “harrumph.”

  “How should I know?” He shrugged his shoulders to realign his coat, turned on his heel and marched into the crowd.

  Louisa never got a good look at his face, but she didn’t need to. Tucking the tiny cog she’d lifted off the man into her leather apron, she raced back to the borrowed motorbike. She flicked the switch, but the darn thing wouldn’t start.

  Damnfino! Curse this contraption! She should have taken a bicycle. So, she ran.

  Clear Skies with a Chance of Falling Bodies

  L ouisa panted, gasping from the stitch in her side, her poor breathing making her light-headed. As she hobbled around the side of the hangar, Tom, the mechanic, worked on setting up the winch for the lead-line on the balloon. Bennett walked backward away from his smaller, but no less curious, crowd, aware of the time but clearly torn between his duties as a gentleman and as an inventor. That sandy-haired reporter with the curls stood quite close, asking rapid-fire questions.

  Louisa stumbled over to the basket and, with shaking fingers, inserted the cog in its rightful place.

  “I’m done here, Miss. Launch window is wide open,” the old mechanic said and tipped the brim of his hat toward her before returning to his office.

  Louisa gulped in a lungful of air and staggered over to the last barrel. She let go of her aching side long enough to collect a bag of spheres. Time slowed and sped up at odd intervals as she struggled to fill the dispersal nets with more orbs. Then, just as Master Bennett looked over his shoulder at the balloon, Louisa hoisted herself inside the basket and released the mooring. She watched him stumble to where the balloon had been before she ducked down out of sight.

  Louisa had emptied the entire barrel of spheres. Some part of her knew in order
for this to work every last orb needed to be released into the cloud—and that meant the lightest person possible riding along.

  The base of their target cumulonimbus hovered approximately six thousand feet up and was ripe for becoming a stratonimbus. Each dispersal orb not only generated its own static electric jolt but also contained hygroscopic salt and other natural elements to encourage the growth of ice nuclei within the cloud. Without fail, every time Bennett produced condensed vapor in a glass jar, his unique seeding mixture induced precipitation. The first time he’d shown Louisa the experiment, she swore it was magic until he talked her through the science.

  Now, she had to wait for the barometric pressure to lower enough to raise the balloon either above the cloud or close to it. The lazy assent worried her. She hadn’t used a fancy formula, but she’d been certain her weight and the orbs wouldn’t overtax the small balloon. Still, the test flight yesterday with the installation of the thrusters wasn’t an accurate comparison.

  The air grew steadily colder the higher the balloon rose, but her target cloud never seemed to get any closer. This isn’t right. We’re going to miss it. We waited too long.

  “No!”

  Hearing her voice jolted Louisa to her senses. She scrambled around, removing several orbs from each of the nets and tossing them into the air. They exploded when the energy inside the orb hit the wall of cool air. A dozen blasts temporarily painted the sky with miniature black fireworks. The motion helped pump more blood from her heart to her head and her extremities. She stopped shivering.

  Moments later, the white cloud grew closer and closer until the red balloon towering above disappeared. She reached out over the edge of the basket to touch the white fluffiness, but her foot caught in the heavy weave of the wicker base. Louisa pitched forward, her gut hitting the rounded edge full-force. She clung to the closest balloon line as her right arm flailed out over the edge.

  Heart pounding, she flew into the midst of the cloud … cold and damp—like London’s fog and nothing more.