The Flux Engine

by Dan Willis

He and his intelligent flying prison gave Robi the creeps.

  Footsteps sounded along the narrow hallway outside her cell. She hoped it was John, finally coming to talk to her, or even the old engineer, but the heavy tread sounded of hard-soled boots; that could only be the enforcer.

  “Good evening, miss,” he said, stepping into view, sweeping over her and the cell with a practiced gaze. “You’ll be happy to know we’re coming up on Castle Rock.”

  “Oh,” Robi said, trying not to sound nervous. Damn his eyes.

  “I checked with the authorities and they tell me that you ain’t wanted for anything here in the territory of Desert Star, so once we dock, you’re free to go.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” Hickok nodded.

  “What about Derek Morgan?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. “What about his boss, the man pulling his strings. If you want him, you’re going to need my help.”

  Hickok laughed.

  “Missy, I’ve been finding dangerous, hard to find men since before you were born. I think I can handle this one without your help.”

  “I know what he looks like.” Robi smiled and tapped her forehead with her long, slender forefinger. “I’ve seen him. I bet your psychic could pick up his trail, maybe even find him if he had what’s locked up in my head.”

  “Maybe,” Hickok said, then he banged on the bars with his knuckles. “But I fought with him, so I think I already know what he looks like. Open her up, Sylvia.”

  The muffled hiss of a steam piston issued from beneath the floor and the cage door slid aside. Robi had to restrain herself as the desire to leap from the cell washed over her. She took a breath as Hickok stepped back from the opening, then she stepped calmly out.

  “I meant what I said,” Hickok said. “Once we dock, you’re free to do as you like. If you want to come with us to the Prophet, I won’t stop you, but I ain’t making you any promises.”

  A burst of static issued from Sylvia’s speaker box. “You’d better get topside, Bill,” she said. “Something’s happened.”

  Hickok’s hand seemed to drift involuntarily toward the hilt of his gun as he looked up at the box.

  “Trouble?”

  “I don’t know,” Sylvia’s voice returned, sounding frustrated. “The frequencies for the Etherium Telegraph are overloaded and it’s bleeding into our private band. It’s as if every station in the Alliance is trying to send messages all at once.”

  “Have we heard anything from the Prophet?” Hickok said.

  “I don’t think so,” Sylvia said, “but there’s so much interference I can’t be sure. What I do know is that there are seventeen airships headed into Castle Rock at the same time. The dock master is having trouble directing all of them.”

  Hickok swore and darted away toward the front of the ship. Robi hesitated a moment. Emergencies were good times to look around and see what people kept hidden, but after three days in that tiny cell, she yearned to be outside. She turned and followed Hickok. The hallway led forward past several doors and an open cargo area, ending in a steep, ladder-like stair with gleaming brass rails running upward.

  Without slowing, Robi hauled herself up the stair to an open hatch and then out onto the top deck of the airship. A blast of cool air, smelling strongly of smoke and salt, hit her and almost drove her back. It pulled at her hair, sending it flowing out in long streams behind her and Robi could feel the darkness of incarceration being peeled away by that cleansing wind.

  She reveled in the feeling for a moment, then moved to the forward rail. Hickok was already there, pointing down over the side at something she couldn’t see. John stood next to him, hanging on to a round signal box, the kind used to send messages with flashes of light. A momentary burst of anger burned through her as she saw him. Since the day of the attack John hadn’t come to see her, not even once. She wanted to be angry, but the pure joy of freedom stripped it away. She was still mad at John, but she’d have to punish him appropriately later.

  Robi moved to the rail, standing on the other side of the enforcer from John. Below them a vast brown plain stretched out, dotted occasionally by green farms where the ground had been aggressively irrigated. Roads ran along the ground, like the spokes of a great wheel, all running to a tightly packed city on the shore of a green lake so big it seemed more like a land-locked sea. Elevated train tracks ran out from the city into the lake, heading for a massive plateau of rock that thrust up out of the water almost a thousand feet, like some tall island. The top of the plateau was flat, except for a slender turret of rock that rose upward from its center, like the watchtower of a medieval fortress. It was supposed to be the solidified magma plug from a long dead and gone volcano but it seemed too perfect, as if sculpted there by some giant hand.

  This was Castle Rock, the city in the middle of the Great Salt Lake, and the home of some of the most advanced, and wealthy, crystal growers in the Alliance. If there was a place in the world to find out about John’s missing crystal, Castle Rock was it.

  The Desert Rose closed on the city quickly, flying over the shore-side city below and across the water, making for the plateau and the spire at its heart. As they approached, Robi could see the great lifts where whole train cars were raised from the tracks below to the city above. On the pillar, she could see the pilgrim’s walk, a stairway spiraling around the shaft of stone leading to the building at the top, a temple dedicated to the Builder. Below the temple were several rings of other buildings, some carved into the rock, others sticking out, supported beneath with delicate looking buttresses. Roofs of red and blue tile shone in the sunlight over banks of glittering windows. Most of these were the homes of Castle Rock’s rich and powerful.

  Hiro had told Robi of those houses and the riches they held. She’d been to Castle Rock before, but only briefly. She’d never had a chance to scout out those wealthy homes. Maybe now …

  No.

  For the first time since his death, Robi had a chance to find her father’s killer. Nothing would distract her from that goal. Not even the vast wealth of Castle Rock.

  A burst of unintelligible static drew Robi away from the scenery. Hickok had his head pressed against one of Sylvia’s speaker boxes mounted on the forward rail and John was staring fixedly over the side at something below.

  “What?” Hickok yelled.

  Another burst of static issued forth and Hickok looked up.

  “Make for Jane’s place,” he yelled back, then turned to John. “They’ve closed all access to the upper docks. We’re going to a private dock down there,” he pointed over the side. “Point the light at that ship.”

  John adjusted the signal light to point at a massive cargo hauler that hovered below them. As soon as he finished, the light began to work on its own, the shutters opening and closing as it flashed its signals in Jefferson cypher. Robi noticed that one of Sylvia’s mechanical eyes was mounted to the front of the device, allowing her to control the signals and to interpret any return reply.

  Robi shuddered. Hickok’s airship was way too smart. Mechanica weren’t supposed to be smart; they were supposed to be predictable, circumventable, trickable.

  “He says he doesn’t care that you’re an enforcer,” Sylvia’s voice squeaked from its box, barely heard over the rush of the wind. “He refuses to alter course.”

  Hickok let out a long string of swear words artfully crafted into nearly complete sentences, then yelled into Sylvia’s voice box.

  “Drop the gun.”

  A shudder ran through the Desert Rose and she slowed a little as if there was suddenly more drag on her. There was a clank of metal, as if something had locked into place, then Hickok smiled. Robi knew that enforcers were always better armed than they seemed. In this case, she realized, Hickok’s ship had a belly gun, a large caliber weapon designed to strike other airships or targets on the ground.

  A gun controlled by an intelligent ship, capable of assessing threats and responding on her own.

&
nbsp; It was official: Robi liked Sylvia the woman, but Sylvia the airship—terrified her.

  “Now you tell that fat son of a whore that if he doesn’t stop blocking the approach lanes, I’ll blow him out of the sky and we’ll see how well he floats,” Hickok yelled.

  Sylvia started clicking away but before she got even half the message sent, the cargo ship began to veer away. Apparently the sight of the gun had settled the argument.

  “Finally,” Hickok said. “Pull in the gun and take us down.”

  “What was that about?” Robi asked.

  “Darned if I know,” the enforcer said. “It’s like everyone’s gone crazy. I’ve never seen more than two or three airships come in at one time and now suddenly there’s twenty all wanting to land at once.”

  “It looks like there’s at least that many wanting to take off,” John said, looking over the side.

  Robi looked at the main skydock, built just to the side of the lifts where cargo movement would be simplest. At least a dozen airships were pouring smoke from their stacks indicating their readiness to leave. A quick scan of the city revealed more plumes rising from private docks.

  “Something’s got them spooked,” Robi said.

  “What?” John said.

  “Must be whatever’s jamming the telegraph,” Hickok said.

  “I thought Sylvia said she couldn’t make sense of it,” Robi said.

  Hickok nodded, sweeping his arm toward the city. “I bet they can’t either. Whatever’s up, it’s just rumor and half-truth at this point. No one knows what’s really going on, but everyone knows enough to be scared. That’s when people are the most dangerous.”

  “My father used to say that in confusion, there was profit.”

  “This isn’t confusion, Miss Larin,” Hickok said. “This is panic. You ever see a herd of razorhorns stampede?”

  Robi had to admit she hadn’t.

  “It happens fast,” the enforcer explained. “Something spooks them and suddenly they’re off and running, a ten-ton juggernaut with hundreds of feet and not one thought but to run. Builder help anyone caught in their path.”

  “What’s your point?” she asked.

  “People are just the same,” Hickok said.

  “Don’t people pull together in a crisis?” John asked.

  “Sure, when it’s something they can see or something they can fight. How do you fight a rumor?”

  John shrugged.

  “Exactly,” Hickok said. His guns were tucked into a red sash he wore around his waist and he tugged them experimentally, making sure they were only held loosely. “Now, when we land, stick close to me,” he said. “If anyone asks if we know anything, just say no.”

  The buildings below had grown as they approached. Now Robi could see the airships hovering at their docks, like pent up racehorses waiting for the trumpet to sound so they could go sprinting into the sky. Sylvia appeared to be making for a small, well-kept boarding house on a normally quiet street.

  “I’m liking this less and less,” Hickok said, watching throngs of people running up and down the streets. “John, go get one of the shatter guns and buckle on that pistol I gave you.”

  “Do you think there’ll be trouble?” Robi asked, not sure she believed such a thing was possible in such a great city.

  “I always expect trouble, kid,” Hickok said as John hurried aft. “That’s why I’m still alive.”

  “How are we going to get through all that?” Robi looked at the throngs below.

  Hickok turned to her and she would have sworn those icy blue eyes actually sparkled for a moment as he smiled.

  “There’s a trolley running up to the spire not two blocks from here,” he said. “That’s why I picked Jane’s place.”

  “Sure it is.” Sylvia’s voice carried a distinct note of disapproval.

  By the time John returned, Sylvia had brought the Desert Rose down over the city, slipping up next to a dock outside a sturdy green building. A sign above a set of saloon doors at the end of the dock read; Jane’s Boarding House, Reasonable Rates by the Day or the Week. Board included.

  As they drew alongside, John dropped the docking clamp in place and Sylvia extended the gangway. No sooner had Hickok stepped off the airship, however, than a stocky man with a flux rifle appeared from the saloon doors. He wore a plaid shirt and simple denim pants that accentuated his wild, unkempt hair and beard. Dark, malicious eyes stared out from below bushy eyebrows and his teeth glinted yellow behind a crooked smile.

  “I’m Big Mike Johnson,” he declared in a loud voice. “I’m commandeering your ship as of now. Anyone who doesn’t want to get shot had better—”

  Robi never found out what those who didn’t want to get shot should do, because at that moment, Hickok whipped out one of his pistols and shot Big Mike in the foot. The man howled in pain and collapsed to the dock, dropping his rifle in the process.

  “You shot me,” he screamed as Hickok stood over him.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” Hickok said. “It’s just your foot.”

  The man on the ground glared at Hickok, holding the enforcer’s eyes as if daring him to say more. Hickok rose to the challenge. He crouched, grabbed the man by his grubby shirt front and stuck a gun in his face.

  “Now Michael,” he said in a calm, almost friendly tone. “My name is Hickok, Wild Bill Hickok, and this here is my airship. I’d take it as a personal favor, if you’d just sit here, nice and quiet like, and keep an eye on her for me.”

  At the mention of Hickok’s name, all the belligerence drained away from Big Mike’s face and he took on the pallor of stale milk.

  “You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Michael?”

  Big Mike nodded emphatically.

  “Yes sir, Mister Hickok,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers her.”

  “Good,” Hickok said, nodding. “That way you and I will be friends, Michael. It’s important to have friends. For myself, I’ve never once killed one of my friends.”

  Big Mike’s nodding head suddenly stopped.

  “Now on the other hand,” Hickok said, slipping his gun back into the sash at his waist. “People who disappoint me aren’t really friend material … if you take my meaning.”

  Big Mike took his meaning and nodded vigorously.

  “Good,” Hickok said again, standing up. “Wrap up that foot,” he said, turning his back on the fallen man and starting to walk away. “Jane dislikes blood on her floors.”

  “Jane?” Robi whispered to John, but he just shrugged. There was a short, derisive snort of static from Sylvia and then a tall, lanky woman in a form-fitting green dress appeared in the saloon doors. She had curly hair, cut evenly at the shoulders, that bounced as she moved and framed her sparkling eyes and long, pointed nose. Her face was plain and honest with just a hint of makeup for accent rather than to cover.

  “Billy,” she said as she saw him, hurrying across the dock in a rustle of petticoats to seize his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Do I need to get a room ready for you?”

  “Hi, Jane,” Hickok said, kissing her hand with a little bow. “How have you been?”

  “Business is good,” she said, looking up into his eyes with a broad smile. “Cook’s got supper on, why don’t you and your friends join us and I’ll tell you all about it?”

  “Can’t,” Hickok said, finally releasing her hand. “I’ve got to talk to the Prophet right away.”

  Jane’s brown eyes widened and lost much of their sparkle. “Is this about the incident?” she said.

  “What incident?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Nobody knows,” Jane said, falling into step beside Hickok as the enforcer moved toward the saloon doors. “Some people are saying that there’s been some kind of attack against the Alliance, that we’re at war. Others are saying that some gunslinger or mad architect escaped from Leavenworth.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Hickok said, but Robi could
see his face darken with concern. Leavenworth was the Alliance’s securest prison; an escape from there couldn’t be good.

  “Stay here,” Hickok was telling Jane as they descended the stairs to the ground level. “Act normal and don’t spread any rumors. Tell cook to whip up as many hush puppies as she can and just keep feeding anyone who comes in. Most people won’t panic with comfort vittles in them.”

  “I will,” Jane promised as they reached the front door. As Hickok moved to leave, she took his hand again and held it. “Take care of yourself, Billy,” she said. “Remember you still owe me dinner and a dance at the crystal room.”

  Hickok smiled. It was the first full, genuine smile Robi had seen from him and it made the big man seem almost—human.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, gently touching the plain woman’s cheek.

  With that, he turned and led them out into the crowded street. Robi and John followed in his wake as the throngs parted almost magically before him. Hickok walked with his usual, long, confident stride, his enforcer’s badge displayed prominently on the front of his purple duster.

  At the corner of the next street, they boarded a trolley car that rode along on steel rails propelled by a pony-engine chugging along behind it. The trolley tracks radiated out from the central spire like the spokes of a wheel. When the cars reached the spire, they rattled onto a roundhouse platform to be turned around for their return trip to the city’s edge.

  Hickok led them from the trolley station clockwise around the spire until they reached a marble structure built right up against the tower of rock. Above it, Robi could see a square track cut in the stone that ran all the way up the spire’s length to the temple at the top. At the upper end of the shaft hung a large wheel suspending a steel cable down to a metal cage that was being lowered down the shaft. Robi watched as it descended into the marble building and disappeared.

  She followed Hickok inside, where a gang of men was unloading several carts of materials from the enormous lift. The car was easily big enough to carry a wagon and team with room to spare. Metal tracks, like those that carried the trolley, ran up the back side of the shaft and the cart rested against them at a slight angle.