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

by Lee Bond

  "I did figure it out, lass, soon as you said it." Chevy whistled. "Sort of shortens the length o' a battlefield, hey?"

  "No chance to move out of the way unless you is already doin' so, aye." Sveta affirmed with a nod. "Won't do much, though, 'less we use some other stuff first. Enforcer armor's got some of the most serious protection you'll e'er see in this rotten Universe, don't it just? Like as not, the moment we pop in to say hello and look to borrow a cuppa sugar, he’ll be on the move all about, usin’ his weapons ‘gainst us, turnin’ these things into useless slag."

  Windim and Linders were scrabbling about the face of Stack 17 like a pair of possessed monkeys, hooting and hollering and laying down enough explosive gel to turn a battleship into a pile of scrap metal. Behind them, the other three gunboats wi’ their additional fire support were lined up in a semi-circle, heavy weapons pointed outward and ready to prove some whether or not there truly were a God.

  Mulling all this o’er, Chevy couldn’t help but feel as if he were bein’ some sort o’ cheat or summat; on the inside of Stack 17, his old friend and two Golems were afoot and, more importantly, on their own. E’en if they weren’t, e’en if by some miracle o’ miracles they’d found people willing to follow in their footsteps, they wouldn’t be like these lads and lassies ‘e had on all sides. His battle would be the easiest, wouldn’t it just, leaving him to wonder if p’rhaps Book might not judge him ‘pon the route he took.

  Still, it were already done and laid down. No turnin’ back now.

  “And what of Enforcer?” Chevy scratched an errant itch. “They do sound like Brigadiers in most ways. How is we to prevent our asses from being removed from our hind regions so they might be passed to us, as parting gifts on our way out?”

  Norry looked up from his datapad. “Did you just ‘Arcadian’ how do we stop our asses from getting handed to us? Did that really just happen?”

  Sveta’s bright peel of laughter echoed off the edges of their gunboat. “He did, Norry, just as you please.”

  “Well now, Gearmaster,” Norry tapped the datapad in his hands, “first off, Enforcers hain’t nowt like a Brigadier, not in this world nor the next. More like juiced-up gearheads than all else, wi’ an unreasonable amount o’ weapons on the side. They hain’t make anything wi’ the will o’ their own minds. And as to preventing our foe from turning uz into mulch, we got some heavy-duty intrusion programs.”

  “They’ll worm their way in,” Sveta mimed worms crawling through the air, then slithering inside her brain via an ear, “and muck about wi’ Enforcer’s Suit. Turn the clanking thing off or so we is hope.”

  Norry patted the ‘pad affectionately. “This here ‘pad is loaded up wi’ stuff as would make Trinity shit Itself a new child, ‘ere It ever finds out, hey? As free wardogs, we is often hired to do stuff in systems ordinarily out o’ bounds from normal folk, and as a matter of course, we also often have a tendency to pick stuff up. The kind fellas I did work for some time ago were the kinds of lads interested in Enforcers, and obligingly handed these worms and all over on the off chance I ever did run into one of Trinity’s worst. I’m to ring them ‘ere I see it’s efficacy, let them know wot’s wot.”

  Linders and Windim dropped down onto the deck of the gunboat and immediately began shucking their gear. Both men turned back to the wall when they were done, putting hands atop their brow to shield their eyes from the brightness, nodding wi’ pride at their work.

  “All done, lads?” Norry asked casually, pulling up the program built to run the deadly explosive.

  “Well, Lindy ‘ere, parts o’ ‘is patch are a bit thin, don’t you know. Might make it a wee bit difficult on that side. Mayhap we’ll ‘ave ourselves a giant door.” Windim said with a smile.

  “Oh aye, I did lay it down a wee bit thin, but that were on purpose, to balance out your side o’ things, hey, where it is down so thick might as well call it ‘Lake Explosion’.” Linders countered with a chuckle. “No, but ‘tis true, Norcross. Some of the gel on Windy’s side be so thick you could make a sammich out o’ it.”

  Just that second, some of the heavy guns on one of the other gunboats barked out a greeting, drawing everyone’s attention that way; as they turned, a few dilapidated hovercars of dubious origin sped off into the distance, one of ‘em sporting a trail of dark black smoke.

  Chevy cupped a hand to his mouth. “Ahoy, other ship! Any troubles?”

  Snowtop Swivvens’ voice came through a megaphone loud and clear. “Nay, old Master, ‘twere nowt but some local lads out for a joyride. I exchanged words wi’ ‘em, and they saw the better path for their day’s perambulations.”

  “Many thanks, Snowy.” Chevy turned back to Norcross and the others, gesturing at the wall, at the shimmering gel-explosive. “This is all well and good, lads, and while I hain’t the best at explosives, it does seem to me that this is going to turn us all into dust in the wind, hey?”

  Norry held up the ‘pad once more. “Aye, Gearmaster, ‘twould be that way, were we usin’ normal explosives.”

  Thierry wiggled his eyebrows expressively. “Wot we ‘ave got ‘ere, Chevril, is the latest in molecularly-programmable shaped charges. Via the cunning use of electronics, our man Norry there,” the wardog pointed at Norry, who bowed most deeply amidst gracious hoots and hollers from the others, “can tell the slime just how ‘e wants it to go off, hey? E’en now, commands fly through the air towards gel, and gel itself is listenin’, and is movin’ about, forming a wedge, seeping into imperfections in the face of the wall. Not all o’ the gel is goin’ to go boom, neither. Them parts as aren’t destined to go up in smoke, why, they’re buildin’ themselves up into a kind of barrier, a shield, if you will, to keep most o’ the explosion from comin’ back this way. Then all Norry’s got to do is hit the big green button as pops up when ‘e’s done doin’ ‘is thing and bangarang, we is ‘ave a door.”

  “Hole.” Turner supplied. “Or, better still, entrance.”

  “Still a door.” Thierry held his ground.

  “Doors are the things that go in the entryway.” Turner countered. “Our ‘door’ is goin’ to be a million pound chunk o’ metal on the ground in front of the entryway and unless Norry there figures out how to tell the gel to make hinges, it won’t e’en …”

  Norry cleared his throat. “If you two lads are done debating doors versus holes versus entries, I is about ready to hand this here thing over to Gearmaster Pointer himself?”

  Chevy’s hands were up in the air straightaway the moment he heard that. “Well now, let’s not get all sorts of carried away here, hey, Norcross? I admit, I am more than passing familiar wi’ technology ‘ere I came Outside, and all thanks to Miz Bosiele and Mister Seterreq, but … I fear I must decline this honor. ‘tis too much at stake for a clumsy man’s old hands.”

  Norry came up to Chevy and showed the man the screen on the ‘pad. “Look you here and see this giant green button as says ‘boom’ upon it? See how the edges do flash and wink like a comely lass, drawing attention to itself like a soft lady?”

  A small grin started creeping upon Chevy’s face. The older man nodded. “Aye. ‘tis a comely green box indeed.”

  “Welladay, Master Gearman, all you need to do is tap this once I is tell you.” Norry mimicked tapping the green button, getting so close to it that their Gearmaster flinched on the inside of his metal longcoat. “But not before me and mine get our FARS-cannon dresses on.”

  “And what of the worms?” Chevy asked, accepting ownership o’ the datapad. He held it thinly 'tween two fingers, and on th’ opposite edge, so that there’d be no chance of mistakenly exploding things before any o’ them were ready. “What do I do for ‘em?”

  “Nowt.” Norry supplied, helping Sveta mount the heavy FARS-cannon onto the exoskeletal frame, then turning so she could do the same for him. “Yon ‘pad in your hands will start firing the moment the hole,” here, the commanding wardog looked pointedly at Thierry, who accepted his fate with a smirk, “is blown in the wal
l. Our cannons,” he patted the FARS with a free hand, “will see right through the smoke and fire and debris and anything else as might obscure our view, and we’ll shoot the shite right out o’ our Brigadier wannabe.”

  “Reckon that’ll be the end o’ ‘im?” Chevy asked, hoping he didn’t sound too … hopeful. The thought of doing battle wi’ something like these Enforcers, e’en with a handful of expertly trained gearheads weren’t summat as sounded all that great. In his mind, though, Agnethea, Mirabelle and Dom had already embraced their fates, for their glowing markers had them on the level and moving about as quick as you liked.

  Thierry peered through the scope of his cannon. Some far point in another part of Zanzibar zoomed into crystal view. “Nah. Most like not. These lads are tough. The slugs from these ‘ere bitches will put him down t’the ground, though, that much is a certitude.”

  “Probably a cert.” Turner commented, running his cannon through it’s paces.

  “Good Lord.” Thierry looked to Chevy. “Oi, you is know o’ gloomy Turner on th’ Inside, yeah?” When the Gearmaster nodded, albeit hesitantly, the wardog continued on, “Were ‘e as miserable a cunt there as here?”

  “I is not miserable, Thierry,” Turner nodded, pleased with the outcome of his tests, “I is practical.”

  “Notice you hain’t make no claims ‘gainst bein’ a shaved peach though.” Sveta’s sly remark had the whole team bellowing wi’ laughter, then again once they took in Chevy’s shocked, prim expression. The female wardog planted a slobbery kiss on the side of the old Gearmaster’s cheek. “Hain’t no one coarser on th’ Outside as a lady wardog, milord. We got to teach these young pups straight off that if they go down that particular road, they’ll likely run into uz at the far end, usin’ words that’d never fall off their lips, no matter how drunk, how crude, or e’en how bold they imagine themselves. Keeps ‘em honest.”

  Norry’s change in posture had everyone paying strict attention. Even the much-loved, only partially-affected Arcadian patois was dialed down. “All right, listen up. We’re going in now. From the moment Chevy hits the ‘go’ button and the intrusion measures fire up, we’ll have less than fifteen seconds –and that’s being gracious- to hit the Enforcer where it matters most. A combination of the smoke, the electronic warfare and general confusion should let us pin him down, but it won’t last. Terrex might not be a combat Enforcer, but an Enforcer is still an Enforcer, hey? He’ll have tricks up his sleeve. Shuck the FARS-gear the moment we cross the threshold. Prepare yourselves for anything, including death.”

  The crew grew somber, but they held their ground and kept their silence. This were a speech that needed to be uttered.

  Norcross looked over at Chevy, who were conspicuously looking the other way, blinking back things that were definitely not tears of any kind. “Now, now we’s awake, hey? Lost the turmoil in our souls, those nagging, grinding spots o’ blackness in uz. We got our memories back, all of ‘em. I know for meself, not a lot of ‘em are good ‘uns, but I says ‘tis better to know who you was ‘ere you became who you are, right? So that way we is know where not to go ‘ere we is beset wi’ turmoil once more. I know I fought and traveled wi’ some o’ you here when we was on the Inside, and I know some of them times, we were t'one another's throats. But I also know, we is fight together here, on the Outside, and we done some remarkable things, and so all that passed on the Inside is water ‘neath The Dome. Matters nowt. What matters is wot we do here today.

  We owe our Gearmaster a great thanks. Better to risk death and die knowing all of yourself than to perish wi’ a hole in the center of your being, I say. He says Book on the inside of this Stack is a danger, he says anyone one of t’other Arcadians lay their grimy hands upon’t will cause the whole Outside more trouble than a horny caped idiot does an Estate full o’ nubile lassies, and there hain’t no reason to disbelieve. If we are terrors made flesh, and we hain’t e’en come Outside as we were Inside, then you can rest damn assured that summat as passes here wi’out coming through Dome will in fact be worse than anything we can imagine. Death may very well be a cert for all o’ us. I say, wot of it? We is faced this challenge a hundred times over.

  But I say we give it our all. Imagine it! If but a single one of uz walks away from this, imagine the tales we can tell! ‘Aye, I were there, wi’ Gearmaster Pointillier, and we all did kick the everlovin’ shite out o’ that Enforcer. That, lads an’ lassies, is a tale we’ll be able to dine out on for decades.”

  Norcross let silence –such as it was- settle over his squad. He looked into all their faces, and found not a single trace of fear nor tremor of doubt. This were why they were freemen. They’d been the best o’ the best, never afraid. “Now then, howsabout we go in there and make a spot of fresh History, hey?” Norry looked to Gearmaster, whose eyes were still most definitely not marked with wetness o’ any kind. “Master, if you please? Light this candle so we can troop into Legend itself?”

  Chevy tilted his head in honor. “Aye, Norcross of Arcadia. That I shall. That I shall, and wi’ pleasure.”

  Before him, the five Arcadians did prepare themselves to leap into smoke and fire, the very air around each shimmering, appearing to nearly buckle under the focus emanating from ‘em.

  Chevy took a deep breath. “On five, then, my noble friends. Five. Four. Three. Two…”

  At the last second, Gearmaster Chevril Pointillier slid armor-coated thumb ‘cross the ‘boom’ button and the world, it did jump three inches backwards…

  ***

  "Pointer!"

  Someone were shouting quite terrible loud in his ears.

  "Pointer!"

  Chevy knew there were prolly a reason for it, hey, but damn him, he weren't truly in the mo…

  "Pointer, damn your closed eyes and all else, get to your feet, squire, and hustle your ass on in, else your Hounds get the kill wi'out you! Pointer, damn you! Wake up."

  "No need to shout, Snowy Swivvens." Chevy grumbled as he at last opened his eyes and pulled himself upwards to his feet. "I may be old and half dead an' other things besides all that, but deef hain't one of 'em. Why, I once heard a Lady o' the Lake singin' her sweet song o' ruination down 'neath the waves, I did, and that's a thing nowt but me has ever heard wi'out joinin' her down there in the brine."

  "That's all well and good, Father Time, but as you can see if you but turn your arse the other way, we is about to have some company in the form of fools and morons."

  Chevy obliged Snowtop Swivvens -who weren't anywhere as could be seen by a temporarily addlepated Gearmaster- and took a peek away from the wall, which were … which were less a wall now than it were an opening big enough for Old King Barnie's Biggest Big 'Uns to stroll on in wi'out difficulty.

  En route from other points in the city they called Zanzibar were five … nay … fifteen vehicles of all sizes and make, all of 'em makin' a beeline for their particular location.

  "Blake's Cracked Melon!" Chevy looked around, hunting for signs of Swivvens and his gunboats, finally spying them on either side and atop the fresh entryway Norcross and all had blown into the Stack; all these new wardogs had belted themselves in tightly to their chairs so that their gunboats -through some means not yet divined- could literally be mounted direct onto the Stack itself. All o' their guns and cannons were pointed outwards towards the approaching vessels. "There you is, Snowtop!"

  "Aye!" Swivvens called down from his boat. "And here they come, old man, so unless you wish to find yourself ventilated well and thorough, I should like to invite you to move your fuckin' arse. If you please."

  Chevy nodded his head and started scrambling up the gangplank-style walkway Norcross or someone had thoughtfully left behind for doddering old Gearmasters as had failed to take e'en the smallest bit o' sensible caution; the 'dogs had all been weighted down wi' their heavy cannons and exoskeleton mounts, and besides all that, it struck Chevy that they were permanently prepared for anything as might come at 'em.

  "Blimey." Chevy muttered to hi
mself as he hopped over a wee bit of a lip and into the lion's den, so to speak. It were well difficult to tell what were goin' on around 'im as he settled his feet as there were loads of smoke and all kinds of stuff happenin' all over the place, so it was a solid minute before the Arcadian had a chance to see what was what.

  And his heart sank do deeply into his stomach that for a long, long moment, Chevril Pointillier thought he'd somehow fallen backwards through time and space, direct back to the last few moments of ill-fated Ickford's life.

  Nowt but devastation, everywhere his trained, seasoned eyes did fall. And none of it seemed to be from his gearheads and their Enforcer, nor them belonging to t'other three Arcadians and their armored foes; his team were dancin' about the place, beautifully in tune wi' each other's movements, a true ballet o' violence an' mayhem, pushing their Enforcer -who, as they'd predicted, were as earthbound as the rest o' 'em- and while he could not rightly see anything else happening elsewhere on the level, horrible shrieks and bangs littered the air. The other Arcadians were taking their foes to task, aye, yes they were, and from the sounds ‘o things, them other Enforcers weren’t doing well neither.

  Nay, what he saw … broken buildings, shattered and pulled apart, vehicles of all kinds and makes, empty roads, roads stuffed full of debris that'd once belonged to people, mams and dads and babbies and trees sheared in twain and who knew what else … Chevy knew right down to his old toes, e'en the one wi' the permanently missin' nail, that all this were on account o' Book.

  Chevy covered his eyes in grief. "This is a terrible sight, terrible, terrible, terrible. We Arcadians, we got to better than all this, hey? There's got to more to who we is as a people than destruction an' chaos. Book must be gotten, hey, spirited away from Dom or Agnethea or Wretched Mirabelle and tossed into the hottest forge I can find."