by Paul Crilley
Tweed sighed and glanced up at their destination, still a good fifteen or so miles away. He couldn't see the airship anymore, but they had all marked its position.
Not that they needed to. Just following the path would take them directly to the enemy.
This was something that bothered him. What, when they came right down to it, were the four of them planning on doing when they got there? It was obvious they were going to be vastly outnumbered.
They could go in with all guns blazing, but Tweed wanted to avoid that. The truth was, he was still feeling conflicted about the whole thing. Damn it, Sekhem and Nehi did have a point, whether Octavia wanted to admit it or not. They—the Hyperborean people—had been treated abominably by his government. Their very source of life was being drained to sustain the rapid growth of the British Empire, and nobody seemed to care.
It made him furious.
But then he would remember what Sekhem and Nehi had done. Killing Tesla, almost killing Octavia, the attack on the rebel camp. These were all terrible, terrible things.
But…the thing was, Tweed sort of understood where they were coming from. He didn't condone their actions, of course not, but he understood them.
With the Lazarus affair it was different. Homes and Lucien, they wanted power, they wanted to enrich themselves. It was easy to hate them. But Sekhem and Nehi…they were protecting their people.
Who was he to judge them for that?
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Octavia, appearing at his side. She blew into her hands, her breath puffing into the air.
“They're not worth that much,” said Tweed.
Octavia glanced at him, then pulled on her gloves. “You're being all thoughtful. I'm not sure I like it when you're thoughtful. It makes me worry.”
Tweed was silent for a while. “Do you really think we have any right to judge them? I mean, after seeing what we're doing to their world?”
Octavia let out a disgusted sound. “This again? We didn't do it, Tweed.”
Tweed waved his hand in irritation. “We. Us. Them. The Ministry. You know what I mean.”
“Of course I do. And you think that makes it fine for them to turn a death weapon against London?”
“Of course I don't think that!” He pulled his hood up. “It doesn't matter. You don't understand.”
“Don't patronize me! Of course I understand. Sekhem talked to you. He told you about the pain, the suffering. You feel guilty. Conflicted. So what? Real life is never black and white.” Octavia put her hands on his arms and turned him around to face her. “They've been wronged. Yes. But that doesn't give them the right to take other lives. Not even one. As soon as they did that they forfeited any right to my sympathy. I mean, look at Molock. He's in the same position. He's a royal, in charge of his people. But he's looking for a different way to fix this. One that doesn't involve mass murder.”
“Hiding away in the shadows is not what I call looking for a way to fix this.”
Octavia sighed. “Well…no, possibly not. But I'm afraid that's something that doesn't have anything to do with us. It's his decision, not ours.”
“You two ready?”
Elizabeth and Molock stood in the path just outside the cave entrance. Tweed nodded unhappily, and he and Octavia followed after them.
Octavia didn't say anything else, which he was grateful for. It was one of those arguments that would just keep going round and round with no solution, and he hated that. It offended him on so many levels. There always had to be an answer. He wouldn't accept anything else.
They were ambushed a few hours later.
Molock and Elizabeth were about ten paces ahead of Tweed and Octavia. They had already disappeared around a bend in the path.
A few seconds later came the staccato crack of gunfire.
Tweed peered around the curve of the mountain wall. Bullets peppered the ground in front of him, snow spraying up into his face. He saw Molock shove Octavia's mother out of the way. She slipped, banging her head hard on the ground. A bullet struck the rock where she had just been standing.
Tweed and Octavia darted from cover and grabbed her mother's shoulders, dragging her back to safety. Molock followed after, bursting around the corner at top speed. He tried to slow down, but his feet skidded out from beneath him. He fell heavily and slid straight for the edge of the path.
“Grab my foot!” shouted Octavia.
“Wha—?” Tweed barely took in her words before Octavia launched herself forward in a dive, attempting to intercept Molock before he went flying over the edge of the mountain.
Tweed swore loudly and ran after her, landing on his backside and grabbing her foot. He slid with her. He dug his heels in, watching the edge of the path rapidly approaching.
Octavia collided with Molock and his weight sent them spinning off to the side. They hit a bump in the path and flipped, tumbling over and over until they came to a panting, shaky stop in a snow drift.
“That,” said Tweed slowly, “was not fun.” He gently pushed Octavia's head into the snow. “And don't you ever do that again. What if I didn't have such lighting quick reflexes? You'd be doing a swan dive over the cliff right now.”
Octavia spat snow from her mouth. “I had faith in you.”
“Did you? Jolly good. I'm glad one of us did.”
They pushed themselves shakily to their feet and moved back up the path to join Octavia's mother. She was peering around the corner, studying their attackers while rubbing the back of her head.
“Are you okay?” asked Octavia.
“I'm fine. Just a bit of a knock.”
Tweed peered around the curve. Their attackers were…well, they weren't people. Not as such. They looked to be some sort of hybrids. Half-man, half-machine. As if someone had given a mad scientist equipment, an unlimited budget, a few people to experiment on, and said “go for it.”
The closest was a figure who was literally only half-human. From the stomach down he was all construct, his legs rusted metal with pistons that puffed clouds of steam into the air every time he moved.
Another was a woman missing most of her face. A brass mask had been joined to the puckered, scarred skin. Her one eye was an orb of dark glass.
Another had a set of metal arms, while yet another consisted of the upper body of an ancient man attached to a set of wheels, like a half-mechanical wheelchair.
One standing off to the side of the group had a slate-grey body with a long strip of ridged metal that looped through his chest, out his back, and along the ground behind him. Tweed couldn't figure out what it was until the figure caught sight of him and braced himself in the snow, leaning forward at an angle. Bullets shot from his chest, the long strip jerking and stuttering, empty casings erupting from a hole in his shoulder.
Tweed jerked back, hearing the high whine of bullets striking the rock face.
“Do you think this means Sekhem and Nehi know we're coming?” said Elizabeth.
“Not sure,” said Tweed. “There's a cave there.”
“A way station?” said Octavia.
“Possibly. Perhaps they're just lookouts.”
“That means we must be about halfway there,” said Molock excitedly. “We could get there tonight.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “If we could get past that lot first.”
Tweed took another quick glance around the bend, surveying the area. The gunfire started up straight away. He jerked back, then pulled his gun out and adjusted the setting.
“Prepare to be amazed,” he said. Then he whirled around the bend, held his arms straight out, and fired his gun.
He didn't wait to see if he hit the target, but jerked back into cover again.
The others were watching him expectantly.
“Wait for it,” he said.
They waited. Nothing happened. He smiled uncertainly, gesturing for patience.
Still nothing.
“You missed,” called a voice.
Tweed swore under his breath. Octavia t
ried to repress a smirk, but she didn't try very hard. He pointed at her. “I saw that.”
“What?” said Octavia innocently.
“You know what.” He sighed. “All right. Second attempt.”
He gripped the gun then crouched down and swung around the curve. He fired again, and at the same time the enemy shot at the spot he had been standing during the last attempt. Rock chips stung his face as he pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times.
He ducked back into cover, then nodded confidently at the others.
A second later they all heard it. A grinding, cracking noise, followed by a heavy thump and the screams and cries of the hybrids, abruptly cut off.
Tweed smiled. He raised an eyebrow and jerked his head to the side, inviting the others to look. They did, tentatively at first, then straightening up moving out into the open. Tweed followed after, and saw that the overhang he had been aiming at had collapsed, the rock and the huge drift of snow that had been resting on top hiding the bodies of the crew of constructs.
They walked through the snowy mountains for the rest of the day. They didn't encounter any more guards or hybrid constructs, something that bothered Tweed a bit, because the kind of people Sekhem and Nehi were, he'd have thought they would have guards everywhere. The fact that they didn't meant either that they were so confident in their firepower that they didn't care, or that they were about ready to set off with the Albion. With each passing minute he felt the urgency of what they were doing building and building.
The sun set as they trekked up the mountain path. It was pale and watery, streamers of gold bursting out from beneath the low clouds, turning the sky pink and violet. Everyone paused to watch, an unspoken decision. Breath clouded before their flushed faces as they watched the violet fade to grey, the pillars of gold slowly moving across the distant landscape before gradually winking away to nothing.
Tweed sighed, sorry to see it go. It was at moments like this, similar to those he spent on the roof of his house back in Whitechapel, that his mind finally stopped moving, the barrage of non-stop thoughts and ideas simply…slowing for a while.
They moved on, the stars winking into razor-sharp existence above their heads.
An hour or so later, they finally arrived. They rounded a bend in the path to find the Albion floating in the night sky. Spotlights danced across the massive airship, lighting it up as if it was on display in some fancy exhibition.
The lights shone up from a huge complex built directly into the mountain, windows hidden beneath overhangs and expertly fashioned to follow the contours of the rock. By the spotlights they could see that the Albion had been changed from the first class floating hotel they had traveled on. The safety net that had prevented Octavia and Molock falling to their deaths was gone. And sticking out from the bottom of the hull was a huge metallic structure that cradled what looked at first like a giant's telescope. The device was massive, easily the size of a two-story house.
“Tesla's super weapon,” said Molock grimly.
So that was why they needed the Albion. Looking at the size of the weapon, it was immediately apparent that it would need something massive to move it. Only the Albion, with its Tesla Turbines and massive gasbags, could support its weight.
They stayed in cover and watched the complex. There was no movement on this side of the structure. Everything seemed to be happening on the airship. The spotlights illuminated tiny figures scrambling around on lines and ropes, making what looked like last minute adjustments to the weapon.
The entrance to the complex was a stone door about thirty feet long. After making sure the coast was clear, they moved out from the lee of the cliff and sprinted up the slope toward it, keeping to the edge of the path in the hopes that it would hide them from view if anyone happened to glance out any of the windows.
They arrived at the door and crouched down in the shadows, waiting to hear if any alarm had been raised. Nothing. No blaring klaxon, no shouts of alarm.
“I get worried when things go our way, Songbird,” he said. “This all seems too easy.”
“Why did you go and say that?” snapped Octavia. “Here I was, thinking the exact same thing, and you know what I said? Nothing. Because saying that kind of thing out loud is a curse, Sebastian Tweed. A jinx.”
Tweed looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about? I was just saying this is too—”
Octavia slapped a hand over his mouth. Tweed's eyes went wide in amazement. “Wha oo oo-in?” he mumbled around her fingers.
“Don't you dare. Are you touched in the head? You never say that kind of thing.” Octavia shook her head. “For a smart person, you really can be an idiot.”
Tweed prized Octavia's hand away, trying to ignore how pleasant her skin felt against his mouth. “Are you quite finished?” he asked.
Octavia didn't do anything else mad, so Tweed straightened up. “I'll try the door.”
He turned as if to walk away, then smothered a quick grin. He glanced over his shoulder. “I'll be right back.”
Octavia's eyes went wide. She raised her hands in the air in exasperation, looking to her mother and Molock for help.
Tweed headed for the small panel he could see to the right of the door. It was a basic lever system, nothing complicated. He pulled it down and the concrete door groaned and slowly rumbled along tracks, heading into the wall.
Tweed grinned and put his hands on his hips. The interior slowly revealed itself to them, the light spilling out into the cold night. A concrete floor, lots of space, and two large wheels with heavy treads on them. Tweed followed the treads up, expecting to find some sort of heavy duty machinery. He was rather surprised, then, to find a metal body, incredibly large arms with pistons venting steam into the air, and a thick, solid neck.
The neck had a man's head attached to the top. The man was smoking a cigar.
He stared at Tweed.
Tweed stared back, noting that the hybrid was holding what appeared to be incredibly heavy pipes above his head. (Which looked comically undersized when compared to the body.)
The man puffed on his cigar, sending a stream of smoke into the air, then he spat the cigar out, grinned, and hurled the huge pipes directly at Tweed.
Tweed looked frantically around as the metal pipes—easily the same size as he was—bounced and crashed onto the floor, rolling directly at him.
There was nowhere to go. The sheer cliff face to his left, and the drop to his right. The only option was back the way he came.
He turned and sprinted down the slope. The pipes clanged and thundered behind him, picking up speed on the icy path. He caught up with the others as they ran, and Octavia turned a furious glare on him.
“I told you!” she shouted. “Never get cocky. It comes back to bite you in the backside.”
In response, Tweed reached out and gave her a shove. She shrieked and went tumbling to the side, falling into a narrow cleft Tweed had spotted on the way up. Problem was, it was only big enough for one, but at least it meant Octavia was safe.
Elizabeth and Moloch were ahead of him, making for the bend in the path. Tweed risked a glance over his shoulder, and immediately wished he hadn't. The pipes were only about ten feet behind him. He wasn't going to make it.
The others slid around the corner, then poked their heads back around.
Tweed saw the look of horror on Elizabeth's face. She opened her mouth to shout, but he was already dropping, skidding along the snow and trying to angle for a rock that protruded up along the side of the path.
He grabbed it, scraping the skin from his fingers and swinging himself around to face back the way he had come. He yelped and snatched his hands back just as the first pipe hit the rock and launched into the air, skimming past just above his head and soaring over the edge of the cliff. Two more did the same, while another trundled down and hit the cliff where Elizabeth and Molock were hiding. It smashed into the mountain, gouging a huge chunk out of the rock, then spun away into the abyss to the left.
<
br /> A second later they poked tentative heads back around the bend. Tweed waved a shaky hand and pushed himself to his knees. But as soon as he put his hands to the ground he felt a vibration running through the snow.
He looked up to see the massive hybrid rolling toward him. It's enormous claw arms snapped at the air.
“Gonna get you boy!” the head shouted. “Gonna get you and squish you till you burst!”
“Charming,” muttered Tweed, straightening up and reaching for his gun.
It wasn't there.
He whirled around, searching the ground. He spotted it down the slope, resting up against the cliff wall next to Elizabeth and Molock.
The hybrid was about fifteen feet away now. The treads spun on the snow, picking up speed.
Ten feet.
Five.
“Bugger,” said Tweed softly.
He straightened up just as electricity surged up the hybrid's back, crawling and leaping across the metal plates, arcing up over the man's face. Smoke poured from his ears. The treads froze up and he skidded. He opened his mouth to scream—
—and his head exploded. Tweed jerked away as bits of skull and brain peppered the ground around him. The hybrid's body skidded past him, hit the edge of the path, then tumbled away into darkness.
Octavia stood in the path, her Tesla gun still raised at shoulder height, silhouetted against the light spilling out from the doorway. Tweed stared at her, then took a deep shuddering breath.
Elizabeth and Molock joined him.
“Your knight in shining armor,” said Elizabeth as she walked past.
They caught up with Octavia. She gave him “the look.” “What are you never going to say again?”
“I'll be right back,” He mumbled.
“Sorry?”
“I'll be right back.”
“And?”
“This is too easy.”
“What?”
“This is too easy.”
Octavia patted him on the cheek. “Good lad.”
They entered the complex and found themselves in a large foyer from which various doors opened. The floor was scuffed and scratched, evidence of the massive amounts of material that had been brought through.
