Emperor-for-Life: DeadShop Redux (Unreal Universe Book 6)

by Lee Bond

  Nonesuch opened her mouth to respond, but just then, Eli strolled in, looking mildly nonplussed.

  “Can’t be helped, I’m afraid.” Eli answered smoothly enough. His eyes fell to the mostly empty biscuit plate, one hand snaking out to grab the last handful. One went into his mouth, the other into his pockets, for later. The younger FrancoBrit shot Chevy a sly wink, which elicited a smug patting of his own pockets.

  “And whatever reason would be for that?” Chevy wondered aloud, sipping more of his tea. King’s honest, it were the best thing past his lips in some time, hey? The old Gearmaster made mental note to cage the graceful Nanny Nonesuch for a box or tin of whatever leaves she used ‘ere they ventured forth ‘pon their fool’s journey.

  Eli dropped down into a chair and stretched his shoulders. Gods, he wished Chassie were here dealing with the old Arcadian; it hadn’t gone unnoticed that the silver-haired, metal jacket-wearing old man got the brightest shine to his eyes when she was around, a gleam noticeably absent when talking to anyone else save perhaps Nanny Nonesuch.

  Alas, she were down in the foyer, dealing with Norcross and the others, and the sudden arrival of fresh weapons, and as much as Eli hated to admit it, his wife was definitely better in dealing with that particular group of wardogs. Freemen as they were, there was still the tiniest bit of resentment towards him concerning their many years of service.

  Pouring himself a spot of Nanny’s tea, Eli hastened to answer after he’d wet his whistle. “Whole thing’s come a bit undone ‘round the edges, don’t you know?”

  Chevy quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? In what way?”

  The Elder Gearmaster didn’t like surprises. Leastways, he didn’t like them as he hadn’t had a chance to prepare for ‘ere they arrived, all unannounced. ‘twere the secret to his many years of pristine success. Weren’t that he were all that and then some, ‘twere that, on them quiet nights in front of a fire, he did set about thinkin’ o’ anything as could go wrong during any other thing, and the proper method of going ‘round them fresh obstacles.

  It struck him he didn’t know nothing about what were going on now, and it rankled sorely, didn’t it just?

  Eli flapped a hand. “The Enforcers are fully inside the Stack now. Pain in the ass, really.”

  Nanny Nonesuch’s hands trembled slightly, causing teacup to rattle ‘gainst plate.

  “We knew of this before now.” Chevy responded calmly. “’twere one of the first things we did properly know about what were going on inside that deathtrap. How any man or woman could look ‘pon such a jutting, rotted tooth of a building and think, ‘this is a place I should like to live’ is beyond me. But I pass the point. We knew about the Enforcers ‘ere now. Made the plan and all that, centering specifically around them.”

  “You did, you did.” Eli nodded, sipping on his tea. “They didn’t make their arrival a secret or anything like that, but … we’ve gotten full and proper intelligence on … how they entered, who they are. I’m afraid we may have rather sold ourselves short on going in through the top end like we planned.”

  The burning embers in his mind shifted ever closer to Book. His fellow citizens had the upper hand, and here he were, sat at a table, having afternoon effing tea with a lad who were about to have his head smashed through the table for being so damned parsimonious wi’ what it were he knew, and what he were trying to say.

  “I fail to see how that might be.” Chevy replied as calm as he could. He’d known from the start that there were summat … off … about Eli. The same could be said of pretty young Chassie, true enough, as she were married to the man, but in the husband, it were more pronounced. He just weren’t trustworthy. “Five men or wotever inside metal suits as makes them the unruliest thing in the vicinity, hey? Which is why we prepared all manner of distraction and all that ‘ere we made fast descent down through the holes they made, hey? Quick and easy like,” Chevy mimicked dropping things from a great height, “one, two, three. All them smoke grenados and whatchacallits, electricomagentic wave emissions?”

  “Electromagnetic.” Eli corrected the older man with a smile on his lips. “All that is still on track for deployment.”

  “I fail to apprehend, then, what has changed?” Chevy shifted ever so slightly, keen senses noticing that once again, there were summat about Nanny that suggested were he to start moving in a specific sort of way that she, too, would rise to the occasion. He didn’t know what it might be that the birdlike lady could offer in the way of hand-to-hand combat, but a flame of curiosity to see her in action twinkled.

  Eli gestured and the far wall were suddenly sporting a highly detailed image of Stack 17 and the surrounding environment. “The previous plan, unless I’m mistaken, was to have one or two of the wardogs plus yourself arranged at each of the holes created by the Enforcers, yes?” When the old man nodded hesitantly, Eli continued on. “At the arranged signal, smoke bombs and a few other tricks were to’ve been deployed down and down, yes, whereupon they would detonate at the proper level, thereby providing proper cover for your arrival.”

  “Aye.” Chevy nodded again. ‘twere a madcap plan sure enough, but after hashing things out wi’ Norcross and t’others, he’d grown to be well confident of their abilities, if for no other reason than they themselves had seemed so lackadaisical about the whole affair. “As a bonus, said tricks were to’ve caused my people a bit o’ discomfort as well, allowing me to sneak right along behind ‘em to clap hands on Book. Simple as simple, hey?”

  “We’ve a saying out here.” Eli snapped his fingers and the high-resolution image shifted a bit, suddenly sporting a veritable army of vehicles at the very top of the Stack. “The best laid plans of mice and men …”

  “Often go awry.” Chevy cursed at the heavy presence. “Aye, we do have that same saying on the Inside. And who be these?” he pointed a finger at the vehicles, many of which bore weaponry easily identifiable, e’en to a man as had never seen their likes before.

  Didn’t take much. It did seem to old Chevy that most o’ the Outside were armed and armored. ‘gainst what, there were no telling, but the whole of the Outside, they did like their guns, didn’t they just?

  “These,” Eli wiggled his fingers and a long stream of data started trickling down the side, “are professional soldiers in the employ of the very wealthy men and women living in the top six levels of Stack 17. They could do nothing to prevent the Enforcers from burning their way down to where they needed to be, not without further trouble, but …”

  Chevy cursed very prettily in Old Arcadian, eliciting an amused gasp from Miz Nonesuch and a look of grave agreement from Eli. “The wealthy. Arseholes. Always lookin’ to protect what’s theirs at the cost of all else.” The Elder Gearmaster realized he’d insulted the other man at the table, so he doffed an invisible chapeau. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  Eli smiled wanly. “No need, no need.”

  “If I am asked to extrapolate from here,” Chevy sighed miserably, “a forced entry through a blockade of soldiers employed by citizens owning property therein would result in a colossal spot of trouble for everyone involved, hey?”

  “That would be the least of it, but yes, that’s it in a nutshell. I know the people living on those levels, Chevril.” In point of fact, Eli had dealings with most of them, and had wasted the better part of an hour attempting to convince one or more of them to allow his people through without incident, but they were being … recalcitrant. He’d gotten the feeling at least one family was considering sending their own mercenaries down the rabbit hole themselves.

  “Well that is a great big pile of steaming dogshite.” Chevy didn’t e’en want to finish his delicious tea. His mood were well and thoroughly tarnished now, weren’t it just. “It hain’t like them folk are going to have a place to stay after all this is done. Not if one of them other Arcadians lays a hand atop Book, hey? My old mate and bona fide lunatic, he touches that there bit of Kingly tech, I warrant he’ll do for the whole Stack on general principl
es. ‘e’s off his nut in a glorious way. And the two ladies? Well, I reckon I can’t properly speak for Agnethea these days as she did team up with Master Nickels towards the end of all things, but prior to that, she weren’t what you’d call a bright, sunny lass. Old habits, they do die hard, don’t they just, and as to the last one, Mirabelle? I know her of old, and she is well vile, Master Eli, responsible for some of the worst things to e’er happen ‘neath The Dome. Nay, the only Arcadian as should be anywhere near that deadly tome is me. Did you try reasoning wi’ ‘em?”

  Eli splayed his hands. “Not only did I try reason, I tried bribery, threats, blackmail and a few other things beyond that. They didn’t budge, not a one. I’m relatively confident that I’ve burned more than a few bridges today. No great loss in the end, but relations will be bumpy for some time to come. Getting through the top is … off the table, as you can see quite easily.”

  Chevy looked around for something to throw. Alas, he were surrounded on all sides by things that bore the hallmark of having been chosen specifically by Nanny Nonesuch, which made him loathe to act so churlishly, so he chose to slap a hand ‘gainst a thigh in bitter disgust. “What, then? I presume if we were to move against ‘em anyhows, their response would be most loud?”

  “Loud enough, I should say.” Eli loved the old man’s turns of phrase. “At least to be heard on the other side of the world. But,” he held up a finger in triumph, “our man Norcross has worked up something else, something that none of the Exodites on the top of the Stack can do anything about. It took some greasing of wheels and an emergency shipment of incredibly costly goods, but he’s worked something out.”

  Chevy perked right up at that. “Well then, laddie buck, let us quit ajawin’ back and forth like a duo of lollygaggin’ halfwits and get me hence to Norcross et al! My fellow Arcadians are already near to hitting the ground running, and here I sit, drinking tea and snacking on choccy biccys. Time’s awastin’.”

  “By all means, Master Pointer, by all means.” Eli rose, and gestured through the open door. He followed after the swiftly moving old man.

  ***

  To Chevy's eyes, the lads and lass that were old gearheads long changed by their time in the Outside were doing very well with the fresh awakening going on inside them; the old Gearmaster couldn't properly think on how it must be to have a head full of holes one day, bein' stuck wi' more questions than could e'er be answered, then to come across someone like him, a crusty bastard from the Inside who not only knew of 'em, but in most cases, knew 'em personal-like.

  From empty to full, just like that, in one swoop.

  Chevy caught sight, here and there and nowt much to worry over, of them wee little twitches and muscle flexes that were part and parcel of being a gearhead, especially them as were stuffed to the veritable gills wi' Dark Iron, but they weren't … uncontrollable. Chevy struggled to find the proper word to explain what he were seeing and failed.

  It were … 'twere like they was remindin' themselves of where they'd been, and where there were at now, as if they was checkin' their muscles and all for signs of Elixir were oozing up from some dark spot inside themselves.

  A grin crept 'cross Chevy's face, though there were a spot of dark sorrow in the mix for good measure. What it must be like, inside their heads now, hey? All of their old memories, slowly but surely trickling back in, direct recollection of every conflict, every battle, every thing they'd ever done. Aye, sure, there weren't no getting 'round the fact that mixed firmly in wi' all that skill and adventure were -in some cases- hundreds o' years o' stark raving madness, incurable hunger for deadly Elixir and the wretched grottiness as come from not bein' able to lay hands on that foul substance.

  Resilience on their faces were impossible to miss. They each of them had made promises the moment them dark times had come crowding in, heartfelt oaths to never allow themselves to fall back in that inky abyss.

  Norcross looked up from the datapad in his hands, waved the Gearmaster over. "Oi, Chevy, come on over." He looked at Eli, who gave a nod, then continued on. "Seems to me our old employer did fill you in on the bad news. Bit of a sour patch, hey?"

  "Oh aye, he did, he did." Chevy nodded greetings to the assembled wardogs, feeling odd to think of them as such. "Though," he added with a sly look over at Eli, who'd busied himself wi' looking over an assortment of boxes, "your man did take his own sweet time bringing me to that point, and on the path, he did get me riled most considerable."

  Both Thierry and Windim rolled their eyes while Norcross made shooshing motions with his hands; just because they were no longer employed by the man didn't mean they were free to disrespect him in his own house. Both men adopted hangdog looks before buggering off to take a peek at the stuff Eli was dealing with.

  Norcross motioned for Chevy to come closer, and when the older man was within whispering range, the freshly reborn gearhead spoke, very softly, "'tis his way, hey? Does like the sound of his own voice and all that. No reason to take offense or nowt. Leastways, under normal circumstances."

  Chevy let the expression on his face do all the talking on how he felt about Eli's casual stance on things, especially in light of what they were gearing up to deal with. "Would've been a treat to be given a heads' up the moment this all came up, Norcross. 't’isn’t a day in the park we're planning here, hey, but an actual assault. Tell me you've come up wi' summat as will accomplish the same thing in e'en shorter time." The Arcadian tapped a temple with two fingers. "The old lights in me melon as are signs of my peers, they've grown quite a bit closer to the level than I am comfortable with, especially since we is here, twiddling our thumbs and breathing in whatever it were that Linders killed and ate raw."

  Linders, lounging scruffily near one of the main doors, laughed quietly and made a big show of sniffing the air. Sveta, who was nearby, poked him in the throat and went back to doing a great deal of nothing.

  Norcross motioned for everyone to silence themselves, then proffered the datapad to Chevy. "As you were saying, Master Pointillier, whilst you were being availed of our good host's fine elocution, we was all sat 'round the table, so to speak, workin' on a new plan."

  Chevy sidled up and took hold of the amazing device. He reckoned it would be quite some before he got used to seeing trinkets like this, small devices that fit in the palm of your hand that were capable of doing all a man's thinking and then more atop all that.

  On the small screen, a … wireframe -yes, that were the word- a wireframe picture of Stack 17 shimmered brightly, wi' five points all in red, and three more in a kind of blueish white, with a final splash of neon green to indicate the most likely spot for the thing they were all hunting for. "Reckon them red be the Enforcers then?"

  Norcross nodded. "Aye. Nearabout, anyhows. We know from previous deployments o' this sort that there'll be four on the floor, as it is, and a fifth high in the sky as overwatch. Then, should things begin to go southerly, the man on high'll do all he can to render opposing forces neutral."

  Chevy nodded. The concept did fit. They'd done similar things in the past, though obviously wi'out aerial support. Wrapping his noggin around the sudden extra dimension to conflict were going to take a fair bit of time. He tapped the three dots indicating his countrymen. "These here are a wee bit off now, hey? They be but two levels away apiece, not … five, as we see here."

  Norcross made the changes, even though it weren't really necessary. "And of course, the throbbing green thing in the middle…"

  "Aye, Book itself." Chevy pulled on his beard. "Do we know aught of what 'tis like down there on this level? It strikes me that other than these here Enforcers and countrymen as well, we could be running into all sorts of troubles."

  "Nowt." Thierry supplied from his perch. "The last recordings we got from out of there are several hours old, aren't they just? All manner of panic and devastation, and the inklings of further troubles, but once the old machine mind cut the thing loose from all sources of power, all them lower levels, they were plunged into
darkness."

  Chevy didn't like the thought of that, not at all, not for a second. He tried applying his vast and keen intellect to sussing out just what might be waiting for them on t'other side of those thick metal walls and came up wanting. He said as much, adding, "As I am given leave to understand by Master Eli over yon, the top o' the Stack is under guard now, making any and all attempts to enter thusly nearly impossible, not wi'out risking our own life and limb and also bringing the chance of ruination to your old employer's good name. Is it the same elsewhere?"

  "Yay and nay, all at the same time." Norcross tapped a button on the side of the datapad and the image pulled backwards until they had a full view of the entire Stack and the surrounding environment. The airways on all sides of the towering Stack were aswarm wi’ vehicles of all shapes and sizes.

  "King's One Good Eye!" Chevy shook his head, amazed. "Looks like they is thrown themselves a party, and me wi'out my fancy dress shoes. What are we looking at here, boys?"

  Norcross held up a hand and started ticking off fingers. "We is have local authorities, right? They're usually dispatched to this sort of thing, and under normal circumstances, they'd be the ones parked atop the Stack, guarding those five luvverly holes, right? But them fancy rich folk…"

  Windim snorted so loudly he started to cough, near to apoplexy.

  Norcross shot his friend a withering look, then continued on, ignoring the subtle shift of attention from Eli, "As I were saying 'ere Windim sought to strangle himself to death on his own spittle, them fancy rich folk, they is not like them as aren't on the payroll proper, hey? Local police, they do have a tendency to have, er, shall we say, sticky fingers."

  "Nowt a man in the world as can turn down a gewgaw or piece of fancy finery as is left unattended, boys, especially when there be a chance to turn profit." Chevy said with a smile. "Why, I do recall a time I were dealin' wiv this situation once, hey, in this old Estate run by this old mam, and well, she had these fancy bits o' silverware…"