He could offer him power, but the only power Tobias sought was power over his own life. And possibly he longed for love. He could understand that longing. He’d felt it. It drove him now. Perhaps it would drive Tobias the direction he needed him to go. He lacked the time to retrain a new version of Tobias right now, and if all went well, soon he would be deployed for his final mission. After that, his cooperation wouldn’t be required.
He gestured him toward a wing backed chair, then leaned back in his, his elbows resting on the arms, his fingertips forming a steeple as he waited for Tobias to seat himself. He smiled, knowing the power of that smile, despite his less than pleasing aspect. He might be ugly, but his voice, his gaze, his mind, even his smile, were part of an arsenal that had taken him from where he’d been to where he was now. Tobias had never been impressed by the smile, the voice or the gaze.
“You have been gifted with more information about time and how it works than any of my other specimens. I have trusted you with my most important collections.”
A flicker of distaste altered his expression for a second or two. One time Tobias had objected to the use of the word specimen. It appeared the truth still hurt.
“And still the Chameleon eludes you.”
Tobias words were flat, lacking in emotion, as if he knew the words were inflammatory. Faustus pushed back the flare of rage, focusing on reasoned thought. It was the only way to win this battle. If only he knew more about the specimen, if only he knew why the Chameleon eluded capture. His mind dismissed the possibility that the Chameleon was smarter, but his heart remained uncertain. Initially he’d just wanted to remove an obstacle to his eventual takeover of the outpost. He’d happened on the book that told of the Chameleon’s exploits and realized the man could be a threat. He’d had him tossed into the past and time had tossed him back. Then he’d decided the Chameleon would be a useful specimen to add to his collection. If he could be controlled, he might be more useful than Tobias. Did Tobias sense this?
Lately, securing the Chameleon had become something of an obsession, why else had he gotten distracted about securing the machine? He’d made the approach to Professor Twitchet, or rather had Tobias do it. His plan to use steam to fuel his laboratory ran aground on the island of inadequate power supply, but found new life when the Keltinarians managed to stabilize their Constilinium. Twitchet had been easy to tempt with this “new” power source, as had the Keltinarian scientist in charge of the mineral. A win-win, or so it appeared. A good thing neither of them had realized he didn’t share his win with anyone.
When he became time’s master, when he controlled it, there’d be no one positioned to stop him.
“It pleases you that the Chameleon eludes you?” One hand drifted toward the control panel, but he stilled that movement. He would not allow Tobias to provoke him into action. He was the master. Tobias was his servant.
Tobias shrugged, his expression the closed one of a skilled warrior. When Tobias donned that expression, there would be no cues or clues to be observed. Perhaps he should take the time to enhance the restraint so that it gave him access to his specimen’s thoughts. Nanites had this power, but they’d limited their own power when they achieved sentience. Even he had failed to corrupt them, or figure out how to make his non-sentient ones access memory. He’d have put more time into it, if he were sure he could continue to control them, or if he could determine how they’d become sentient in the first place. Perhaps he’d allow a few to survive, but he would never forget his main goal, which was to stop them from stopping him. In the meantime, he bent his powerful intellect to the problem that was Tobias. It would not be easy. That was all right. He did not like easy.
“I understand your resistance. I even admire it.” He let the silence build, then lifted his lids, let his gaze rest on Tobias. “What if we changed the nature of our association?”
Tobias didn’t speak or move, just stared at him with closed gaze. The temptation to punish him was strong, but—
“What if I gave you the two things you want the most, my friend?”
Tobias’ brows arched. “Two things?”
“Your freedom from the control device.” He paused until Tobias’ mouth tightened. “And Olivia Carstairs.”
He had to give Tobias credit. He didn’t move, though it seemed his body tensed. A downside of the virtual presence that he wasn’t sure.
“I couldn’t find her.”
He activated the camera that overlooked his specimen cages, zooming in on the one that held the specimen under discussion. “That’s because she’s already here. Waiting for you.”
That wasn’t quite the truth. He’d had her collected from an alternate reality, but Tobias needed the emotional connection, had to believe she was his Olivia. She’d survived the control device, though it had been close, according to the Doctor. Now she stared out her bars with blank eyes.
Tobias didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe that Faustus could see. Impressive. “I’d prefer to work with you, not against you, my friend, but I do have another version of you on standby if you have a need to end our association. Your other self is less skilled, less many things.” It wasn’t true, but Tobias wouldn’t know that. He paused again for effect. “Less ethical, for instance. Though he shares your interest in the female.” He didn’t have to spell it out. Tobias had always been too clever for his own good.
Tobias finally looked at him. He found he was glad they weren’t in the same place. Even the control device wouldn’t have stopped Tobias at this moment. He stared into a look that could have killed. And smiled. Nice to know he’d been right. Again.
“Do you think she’s like you, Tobias. Do you think she knows she’s a lab specimen? You can save her or be deleted. I can’t have you working against me anymore.” His last pause. “Think about it. I do have the time, but not a lot.”
* * * *
The prison walls hadn’t eaten “their” airship yet, but it had crept closer with an indifferent and unsettling persistence. Time is persistent. Not sure where that thought came from, or how it fit the situation, Robert shook it off and concentrated on studying the ship using Em’s goggles. Em. Together they could do this.
Without its supply of heated air, the envelope drooped in its supportive framework. Semi-rigid. Data filtered through his thoughts from, he presumed, the data exchange during the kiss. He didn’t think the peeps or his sister would have this much data on steampunk devices even factoring in the Olivia meeting.
A bit embarrassing he’d managed to bust out a thought line on kissing when he should be strategizing, not to mention weird he’d thought “bust out.” Kissing Emily appeared to be addictive. A time to either bless or curse his multi-tasking skills. He gave himself a mental shake and used Em’s night vision option on her goggles to study the surroundings. Nothing looked different, but that didn’t mean nothing was different.
Never assume. Expect the unexpected. Maybe he got it, he hoped he did. Too much depended on him doing everything right with this op. Recalling his team from the last op, he felt their loss keenly, particularly not having Fyn at his back. He was some muscle Robert could have used right now.
The goggles couldn’t pierce the sides of the gondola, or the buildings huddled on three sides of the field. There’d been no sound of approaching automatons, but without clearing the buildings, that didn’t mean there weren’t any positioned to strike while their group was trapped against the shrinking horizon and the river.
They did have stealth on their side until they fired up the steam engine, then that option would be gone forever. They’d collected the sturdiest sticks they could find. Even the less than Southern Belle gripped one with a determined expression. If they could secure the airship, and the sort of high ground it represented, and if the airship hadn’t already been retaken, Robert figured they had a decent shot of holding off any comers until they could get airborne, as long as automatons didn’t join the assault. A lot depended on how the warden of this insane priso
n communicated with his minions, metal and otherwise.
The Dusan, the bad aliens defeated by the Earth/Gadi coalition forces in the Garradian Galaxy, had used inter-cranial communication devices to direct and control their forces. If someone had adapted these devices for use here, then in theory, the peeps should be able to crack the system. The fact that the peeps couldn’t communicate past his epidermal layer—and that the peeps had been neutralized before the time pins’ insertion into this prison seemed to indicate that the warden knew the capabilities of the peeps and had already acted to neutralize the threat. That could indicate the threat was from the future, even if he or she was using this alternate past. It was weird enough to make him reconsider Em’s dream hypothesis
Perhaps he was still in the mental hospital and dreaming all of it, including his rescue.
You do not dream, Robert-oh-my-darling.
He’d have questioned the veracity of dream peeps, but he was pretty sure that, as crazy as he’d been, he wouldn’t have come up with the oh-my-darling part.
Okay, if this was real and he was sure it was, despite the weird factor, both he and his peeps were in danger in this place. He felt this deep in his gut. And he felt the threat to his nanites as keenly as that to himself. Their survival was very much tied together. Without the peeps managing his thought stream, he faced the real risk of falling into another psychotic break.
You are stronger than you realize.
Was he? How much of what he’d learned from his sister would he retain if the peeps were killed or neutralized?
You require us less than you believe you do, Robert-oh-my-darling.
Robert almost smiled, despite the situation. Em touched his arm, her confident trust as energizing as the peeps belief in him. He lifted the goggles.
“Can we get it filled before the walls eat the airship?” Robert asked Em. And before reinforcements arrive. He kept this worry to himself. The time pins were barely holding onto brave. After a few weeks in this hellhole, they had nerves of linguini and would bolt now if they thought there was a risk of automatons showing up before they could get airborne.
Her eyes widened a bit, but she nodded in her determined way. She might think the situation was crap on a cracker, but she wasn’t about to quit. She’d done as much or more than he had to persuade the pins, not once letting on that they needed the numbers for their plan to work. He wasn’t sure where her inner insouciance was derived, wasn’t sure if she was brave or crazy, but whatever it was, it was catching.
She leaned in, her mouth close to his ear. “We should move before the motley crew bolts. They’ve barely got one spine left between them.”
The plan was to head for the airship in a loose, zombie shamble. If it was a trap, he hoped they would think they were reinforcements, not prey. The motley crew would loosen the ropes, while he and Em got the engine fired up. Once they were sure the ship could rise, Robert would help them aboard as fast as possible. If approached by real zombies they would defend the ship until they were airborne. If they got that far, they’d do their recon and come up with another plan—assuming there were other options available for a plan.
You should kiss her again. In all the best movies there is a “just in case” kiss before going into the fray. For luck.
It felt right, so Robert leaned into her lean and found her mouth. Time stopped. So did everything but sensation—
Someone cleared their throat. Twice. Robert broke contact, though he didn’t rush it, holding her gaze when there was enough space for looking. “For luck.”
“For luck.” She smiled.
Robert gave the signal to move out. He and Em broke cover first. The motley crew would follow in twenty-second intervals, assuming no traps snapped shut before they followed. At that point they’d scatter.
The trip to the airship felt like it took longer this time, though his peeps assured him nothing had changed. Exposed as they were, all his senses felt heightened. The charged air smelt worse, the ground felt coarser, even the air they moved through felt thicker and more hostile. The lightning flashes had calmed down some, thank goodness, making it possible for him to wear the goggles in night vision mode. He did slow visual sweeps for any heat signatures, found hints of several of them at the edges of the buildings. At least four, possibly more.
“Some bogies at our eight, twelve, two and four o’clock,” he muttered. Em gave a slight nod, her pace not changing, though she must have felt the same urge he did to reach that gondola. What would they find inside? They’d left the two zombies secured with duct tape, but if they’d been freed? They’d have the high ground. “I’ll go in first this time.”
He reached the gondola. The stool was where they’d left it, on its side. Too dark to tell how disturbed the ground was, though it seemed the same. He straightened it, climbed up, trying to stay in zombie mode, and looked over the side, all of him “at ready.”
Several tense seconds—and some fast heartbeats—later and nothing slammed into him. It was almost anticlimactic to climb in and drop soundlessly onto the decking. It felt too easy, but there’d be plenty of hard to get past if they managed to get airborne. A quick scan showed two prone figures, though they could be playing possum. Another long pause, the only sound breaking the silence was Emily’s quiet clamber onto the stool. He helped her aboard, careful to keep his body between her and the prone zombies. Without consultation, they separated and approached the two men at angles, so the men couldn’t surprise them both. Robert eased in and checked the duct tape. It seemed the same. A quick check with the flashlight. Both appeared to still be unconscious.
“Get the engine ready to start on my signal.” Robert found a position that let him watch the two men and the direction the bogies would have to come. If they started to move—he shook it off. You can only control what you control. The motley crew was in motion, their progress painfully slow.
A tremor shook them and the prison shrank about half the distance to the airship.
The motley crew might have sped up a bit. They reached the gondola, started working on the ropes. One by one, coils snaked over the side. Robert moved into position to assist the Belle aboard. Colonial guy was behind her.
“Watch those two,” Robert ordered softly. Did he detect movement from the bogeys? They hadn’t moved, but he thought they’d shifted, perhaps preparing to move. Green boosted Purple, then Biker, aboard. Purple headed for the prow, while they helped Green board. Definite movement from the bogies. “We got incoming.”
As planned they spread out around the gondola, sticks at ready.
“Fire it up!”
The engine coughed once. It coughed again. Fired, shuddered and then roared to life. The decking rumbled and shook like it had a bad cold. The sound could cover an automaton approach. And a marching band.
The pace of the bogies didn’t increase. Maybe they had one speed. Maybe someone wasn’t worried yet. Robert counted twelve of them at varying distances. They’d reach the gondola in staggered waves. He took a position that let him cover their duct taped passengers and a section of the gondola.
Overhead the envelope began to perk up, but it was still a ways from lift off.
Both lightning and a tremor were followed by the horizon halving the distance to their airship once again. It was an odd sort of three-way race, a very shambling race.
The bogeys were halfway to their position when Robert saw three, massive heat signatures break cover from the tenements. The motley crew couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them coming. They weren’t fast, but neither was the airship. He frowned. Granted, he’d only caught got a brief look, but those at the museum had seemed to move better than these. They seemed to be larger than ones in the museum, too. These bad boys were huge. The lumbering giants would be able to reach the gondola if it didn’t rise fast enough.
Robert knew the moment Emily reached him. Her scent preceded her by a second or two, before nasty triumphed again. She gripped a hammer, probably pulled from a pocket and sported a
determined expression. He pulled off the goggles and handed them to her, indicating where she needed to point them.
She looked, her chin moving in a wide sweep of the field of coming battle, stopped, then moved on, stopped again, then again.
“Those are bigger than the one we saw when we arrived.”
“Yeah.” Robert couldn’t think of what else to add.
“Huge. Almost Godzilla huge. Proportions are a bit off, though. They’ll be clumsy, not too coordinated.” She pulled the goggles down. Just in time, it turned out, as lightning kicked on again, like someone had flipped a switch, briefly exposing the field of battle.
“Automatons!” The panicked shout trumped the engine noise.
“Hold your positions,” Robert shouted. If they bolted now, none of them had a chance.
“We’ve tried to take them! Twenty swarmed one of the small ones and they were all captured or killed!” Green looked wild-eyed in the flashes that cut the darkness.
Purple hadn’t left his position. Instead he stared up at the slowly expanding envelope, as if willing it to get big enough.
Emily stood up. “You don’t take on an automaton like that. For heaven’s sake, that’s Steampunk 101! You have to use your head, not brawn—”
Robert felt his gut twitch at the same moment hers must have. She looked at him. He looked at her, and then they both looked at the horizon. They wouldn’t even have to move to it. It was coming to them. If they timed it right…
“I’ll control the lift.” She thrust the goggles at him and disappeared back inside the engine room.
“We have a plan,” Robert shouted. “Stay calm and hold off the human assault!” He sounded so confident he almost convinced himself. Hey, only everything had to go perfect for it to work.
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