Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty

by MIchell Plested

  He dared a peek out the viewport, and Felonious was nowhere in sight, but neither was the street. Not only had Jack somehow wound up inside a building, he was several floors up.

  ~ * ~

  Felonious stared in amazement. The boy had more talent than Felonious anticipated. He had not only managed to survive a direct flame blast, but also had an emergency escape protocol built into the mech.

  Such genius! Too bad the boy had to go. He might have made a good minion, or even a lackey.

  Felonious stared up at the hole in the building. Too far up to jump and nothing sturdy enough to climb. If it wasn’t for all the innocents, he could destroy it.

  He had to open the hatch to catch his breath, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Innocents! There was no such thing in this backward colony,

  After a few seconds to let the laughter run its course, he slammed the cockpit lid back down.

  Now, what to use to start destroying the building? He strode back and forth along the street twice, hoping to find something, anything both strong and heavy enough to damage the structure.

  He spotted a cast-iron gas lamppost at the end of the block and marched to it. Grabbing it with both of the mech’s grapples, he tore the post out of the street. It came up with chunks of pavement still attached. A fine mist of gas hissed from a broken pipe in the pavement’s jagged hole.

  ~ * ~

  Jack caught his breath as he watched the dials dip back down and out of the red. In his previous incarnation of a battle mech, the thinner, single-thick walls had ruptured when the pressure pushed into the red. The new double-thick walls not only held up to normal performance, they survived an attack.

  Pivoting the turret, he scanned for a way down. Somehow he had to get out of the building and over to the park. Fighting on the street only endangered people. Felonious might have caught him by surprise, but Jack had a few tricks up his sleeve. Hopefully those tricks would be in working order. If only he had time to test everything properly.

  He looked at the rear of the room. To all appearances a simple apartment. He pushed the two levers to control the tracks forward and the wall in front of him, which should have been getting closer as he moved forward, got further away. He cocked his head, curious as to why he might be going backward when it occurred to him—he’d rotated the turret and the controls were now reversed. He laughed until the mech tilted dramatically, and he found himself looking up at the sky.

  ~ * ~

  Felonious took the cast iron light post and swung it against the building. It made a most satisfying clang and took a great gouge of brick and mortar out of the base of the wall. He broke into a rhythm—left, right, left, right—hammering the heavy light post against the brick. He had a nice pile of rubble built up when the post snapped.

  A piece of pavement-encrusted post flew back at him, bouncing off the mech’s cockpit and crashing into its shoulder. The cockpit held, but one of the glass panels smashed, showering Felonious.

  “Blasted post! Why couldn’t that young hooligan stay here and fight like a man?” he muttered.

  He shrugged out of the pilot harness and rummaged around in a small cupboard behind the control seat. It took him almost a minute, but he eventually pulled out a repair kit, which held a patch for the glass cockpit. It wasn’t clear, but it would seal the hole from the flying metal.

  He applied it to the cockpit and strapped himself back in.

  Time to find another way to fight the boy. He backed the mech away from the building to consider his options.

  ~ * ~

  The mech collided with the ground with an ear-splitting clang. Steam filled the cabin, and water sprayed up as well. Jack rotated the turret and shoved both levers in opposite directions. Slowly, and with no small amount of noise, the mech righted itself.

  Through the viewport he saw Felonious’ mech—a tall, golden wonder that looked far more agile than the low, ugly mech Jack piloted.

  It didn’t matter. The fight couldn’t continue on the streets or near buildings. Taking hold of the controls, he rammed Felonious to hopefully slow the man for a moment. Jack then pulled back hard on the controls and raced backward.

  With his feet he rotated the turret to face in the right direction. His hand slipped off the right control, and the mech started to spin, crashing off a building, leveling a light post, running down a fence, and scaring a group of spectators—all at the same time.

  Finally, after drying his hands on his pants, he got a hold of the controls once more and turned the turret and mech in the same direction. Going forward, he made better speed as he raced for the park.

  ~ * ~

  How dare he? Felonious fumed. First the boy tries a surprise attack from up in the building and then? Then he had the audacity to slam his mech into Felonious!

  To make matters even worse, the coward ran to hide in the park.

  Well, no bloody colonial would get away with that!

  Felonious righted and ran after Jack. It was an easy trail to follow as he left a road of wreckage in his wake—crushed bushes, bent fences, and damaged trees.

  Felonious pushed his way through a final belt of trees and came face-to-face with a large, bronze statue. He leaned over to read the caption. John Ericsson. Another traitor to the British Crown. He’d deal with the statue when Jack was finished.

  When Felonious gazed across the meadow, he saw Jack’s mech sitting, waiting on the other side.

  ~ * ~

  Though the mech stopped spraying water on to the back of Jack’s head, it continued to whistle as steam leaked from the boiler. The gauges on the control panel bounced and flicked, and he wasn’t sure if they were giving him a true reading or if the fall made them all go wonky.

  Nothing got in his way as he plowed into the park and turned around to see if Felonious had followed him. To Jack’s dismay, Betsy stood on the street. On either side of her was a goon. They didn’t try to restrain her, but they looked like two gorilla bookends, keeping her from going anywhere.

  Jack pushed the levers, but stopped as Felonious’ mech strode into the park. It became difficult to swallow. It had all led up to this showdown. Neither moved for several heartbeats. Even though he’d worked for Felonious for quite some time, he really didn’t know the man.

  Jack did feel as though he owed the man some level of respect, but Jack’s loyalty was to his country. He had to defend the piano industry at all cost. He also needed to protect the Statue of Liberty.

  A crowd had gathered on the street pushing up against Betsy and the two goons. Betsy, wearing her mask, stepped out from between them and handed out fliers. He could barely hear her over the rumble of his engine.

  “…and he’s fighting for the people. British oppression is still alive in this country. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrapped in a shiny package. It’s still oppression. Our fate lies with the man in the squat, ugly mech. Who cares what it looks like. He’s fighting for us! Show your support. Let him hear your voice!”

  He smiled and pushed forward.

  ~ * ~

  Felonious noticed the crowd at the west end of the meadow at the same time the boy moved toward him. What in heaven’s name were they doing here?

  A lens slipped over a portion of the cockpit magnifying the crowd at the flip of a switch. In the front was the girl and his minions. She seemed to be speaking quite passionately to the crowd with a device attached to the mask to amplify her voice.

  He turned a dial clockwise, and her voice suddenly reverberated throughout the cockpit. “British oppression is still alive in this country. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrapped in a shiny package. It’s still oppression. Our fate lies with the man in the squat, ugly mech.”

  Felonious spun the dial counter-clockwise and glared at her. She would get hers soon enough. He flipped off the magnification and turned the mech to completely face the enemy. The ugly mech was now making its way toward him.

  He smiled. So, the boy had some courage after all. That would make the victory a
ll the more satisfying.

  Time to throw down the gauntlet. Felonious hit a button and the left arm of the mech lifted into the air and aimed toward Jack. A burst of steam shot the hand of his mech at Jack.

  It flew unerringly, striking the other mech squarely in the base plate.

  ~ * ~

  The blow did more than halt Jack in his tracks; it actually slid him backward a couple of feet. The engine sputtered and died. He tried to pull the starter cord, but the fist had dented in the front making it all but impossible to reach the cord. Then, once he grabbed the cord, he couldn’t pull it upward due to the bend in the metal. He had to find a different way to start the mech.

  Turning the manual crank to rotate the turret, he was able to look back at the engine. Unfortunately he’d need to open the clamshell. He looked at it in frustration. If he opened the clamshell, he’d be exposed to attack.

  Betsy appeared. “Jack! What can I do?”

  Panic mixed with relief filled him. He had to get her out of the way. She couldn’t be out there. But he needed her help at this desperate moment. “Turn the crank and once it turns, run!”

  Just as she turned the crank, a loud clang reverberated from the back. Felonious must have seen Jack was defenseless and pounced. Black smoke billowed from the freshly started engine, and Betsy lifted her skirts and ran from the park.

  Jack mouthed a, “Thank you.”

  ~ * ~

  The boy’s mech obviously wasn’t as good as it first appeared if a simple toss of the gauntlet stopped it so thoroughly. As fun as it would be to toy with the lad and make him suffer, it might be more gentlemanly to dispatch him quickly.

  Felonious started across the meadow, first walking, then running as the mech gained speed. He turned up the pressure on the boiler to provide more and more power to the leg hydraulics.

  The gauge showed the pressure quickly growing to its rated capacity as the needle traveled into red. The sound of pinging echoed throughout the cockpit.

  Felonious raised the right arm and punched onto Jack’s defenseless mech just as a plume of black smoke erupted from its exhaust pipe.

  ~ * ~

  Jack stomped on the pedal to rotate the turret. The large ball hanging on the right side swung up and bumped into Felonious’ mech causing it to take a step backward. A cheer rose from the crowd. Jack looked out, and Betsy waved more fliers into the air, urging them on. The two gorillas were no longer anywhere to be seen. He smiled.

  Still off balance, he raised the cutters and severed the hydraulic line going to Felonious’ right leg. It faltered and took a couple hopping steps in reverse before toppling onto its back.

  ~ * ~

  Before Felonious knew what hit him, his mech was on the ground. A gauge flashed red on the console indicating a broken hydraulic on the right leg. Thank goodness for redundant lines! He toggled the switch that put the right leg’s secondary hydraulic online and cranked the boiler pressure up another ten percent. The needle was well into the red now and the pinging sounds grew louder.

  He ignored the sounds and struck at Jack with the left leg. He connected to the enemy mech’s right track with a solid smack and used the momentum to roll his own mech back up to its feet.

  ~ * ~

  Amazement rushed through Jack at the reverse somersault. Despite having one of the hydraulic lines cut, the other mech was back up. The kick turned Jack slightly. He decided to keep the turn going and placed a foot on the pedal to rotate the turret then pulled one control stick back and the other forward. If Felonious could get back on his feet so quickly, it was time to take drastic action.

  In no time the wrecking ball on the left went up. Jack spun faster and faster, and the ball continued upward. He did his best to keep his focus on the shiny mech. The scene kept flashing by. The mech, the park, the water, the crowd—his timing had to be perfect.

  A whistle sounded. A pressure release whistle. The boiler’s pressure had gone up. The faster he went, the higher the pitch of the whistle and the higher the wrecking ball whirled. Dizziness started to overtake Jack, but he was almost there. Just a few more seconds, and he could release the ball and stop. Just a few more seconds.

  ~ * ~

  Felonious gaped at the sight of the boy’s mech, spinning like a whirling dervish. What the devil was he doing?

  Felonious lifted the mech’s right arm, heard a pop and something whizzed past his ear, smashing a finger-sized hole through the glass of the cockpit.

  What the—?

  The boiler pressure dropped a few percent, and the mech’s arm drooped. He twisted the boiler control even higher.

  Another pop and another hole appeared in the cockpit glass.

  He checked the gauges to try and see what was going on. Pressure was dropping again and the boiler control dial wouldn’t turn any higher.

  He glanced up as the boy’s mech released the wrecking ball.

  ~ * ~

  Jack’s head swayed, his vision blurring—the world wouldn’t stop spinning. Felonious, park, water, crowd, Felonious again. Jack pulled back hard on the controls and released the pedal. All rotation stopped, and the wrecking ball flew true. The ball headed straight for the other mech’s chest plate.

  He assumed the ball would impact the chest plate and only knock Felonious down as his mech appeared to be solidly constructed. It wasn’t until the ball was on its way that Jack’s eyes, still spinning as they were, made out tiny cracks in the other mech.

  The ball punched straight through the chest plate. At first he thought that’s all that would happen until he saw a bloom of black and white smoke erupt from the back. The ball went all the way through the mech and its boiler.

  He flipped the lever to open his clamshell. If the boiler had been punctured, it was over. He had won.

  The cockpit of Felonious’ mech blasted open, and Felonious scrambled out amid the erupting steam. At first, Jack thought they were going to end up in a fisticuffs battle. Instead, an explosion ripped through the air.

  Seventeen

  The noise erupting from the crowd scared Jack to no end. Perhaps Felonious had snuck up from behind him. No. Instead, his two goons were dragging the man’s limp body from the park’s duck pond.

  Betsy ran across the grass followed closely by the crowd. “You’re a hero! You’re a hero.”

  He wanted to take off his mask and kiss her, but being that she made no motion to remove her own, he decided to leave his on. They did, after all, have their identities to protect.

  Police Chief O’Malley pushed his way through the crowd. “Now see here. What’s the meaning of this? We can’t have this machinery littering the park. Look at what you’ve done to the grass. Someone is going to have to pay for this. Who’s responsible? I demand to know who did this.” He looked at Jack. “You! It was you, wasn’t it? Surely you had something to do with this.”

  “Well, I, but, you see, it’s like this.”

  Betsy stepped forward. “I did it. If you’re going to arrest anyone, arrest me.”

  “No, it was me!” Another person approached from the crowd.

  Jack recognized the dockworker.

  “It was us. We did this!” The French sailors, bloody and battered and smiling, pushed their way through the crowd.

  She tipped her head. “So, are you going to arrest us all? I think the person you really want is right over there.” She pointed to the now empty duck pond. A murmur erupted.

  “I beg your pardon, missy, but I don’t see anyone over there.”

  “Felonious. Felonious Fenduke Filcher the Fourth. He was right over there. He challenged us to a duel.”

  O’Malley wrinkled his brow. “A duel? Don’t you know it’s illegal to have firearms inside the city limits?”

  Jack stepped forward. “I know and understand the law, Officer O’Malley. That’s why I chose these machines as the weapons.”

  “Did you see the path of destruction you two left?” O’Malley waved his hands around to show all the damage done to the park.<
br />
  “I indeed know the damage we caused. I will work to pay off the damages. I will also let you know the person responsible was trying to destroy the piano industry, or the Statue of Liberty. Maybe both.”

  Betsy handed O’Malley a flier. The officer studied it and looked at the crowd. “I guess you’re free to go. But only if you promise you’re going to get those repairs done in short order.”

  Another deafening roar came from the crowd. The French sailors hefted Jack up above the crowd and carried him off.

  “Muchas gracias, mis amigos!”

  Eighteen

  Felonious Fenduke Filcher the Fourth sat up with a groan, his mind muddled. “Wha…what happened?”

  “Ah, my lord. Back in the land of the living,” Bennington said, leaning over to offer a smile. “You were in a duel, my lord. Don’t you remember?”

  Felonious was confused for several moments before he brightened. “A duel! Yes, I was in a duel with that Jack Kane pup.” He frowned as he tried to recollect the events. “Did I win?”

  “Alas, no, my lord,” Bennington said gently. “The young man took the day.”

  “Blast it! And blast him. Was it treachery?”

  “I don’t believe so, my lord. I believe your battle robot suffered calamitous failure. You were struck down while defenseless.”

  “The cad,” Felonious said. “That is the sort of thing a villain would do though, I suppose.”

  “Quite,” Bennington replied, perhaps a bit too drolly.

  Felonious looked around. The room was dark and dank, lit by a single lamp. “Where are we, Bennington? This isn’t my bedchamber.”

  “I am afraid you are correct, my lord. Our situation is much…diminished. Should you return to Filcher Manor, I believe you would find the authorities waiting to incarcerate you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Your plan to destroy the Statue of Liberty?”