Alien Devices: Tesla joins crew to prevent alien zombie apocalypse (The Secret War Book 2)
Authors: Raven Bond
It is 1986 in an alternate Hong Kong
. After the War
with the Alien Invaders who destroyed much of the world-that-was, the Privateer
Air Ship Wind Dancer tries to stay flying. Its crew comes from every Free Port
still standing.
Captain William Hunting Owl, An American Tribesman, is seeking
the Black Air Ships who killed his father's ship. It is a secret quest, known
only to a disgraced Englishman, Rogers, his First Officer. They include the
Arms Master in their secret; Saira Brighton is a deadly warrior and she is a
Hindu sorcerer-assassin.
Together, they race against time to find their Enemy, while
consorting with Crime Lords, Scholars, Savants and rogue elements of the
British Secret Service. The Scholar, Abigail Hadley, searches for her father
who has disappeared while hunting for Alien power devices. Strange, zombie-like
creatures turn up wherever they go.
Are these all separate things, or are they strangely connected?
The world is in more danger than ever, and the Wind Dancer and the Savant,
Tesla, may be the only hope for those most in peril.
COPYRIGHT
ALIEN DEVICES
Published by Impish Press
P.O. Box 65198
Shoreline WA 98155, USA
impishpress.com
Copyright © Raven Bond, 2016. All rights reserved.
Published in the United States of America
International Intrigue and Mystery, Fantasy, Science Fiction,
Alternate History, Steampunk, Native and Aboriginal lead characters / Raven
Bond, Author
Amazon ASIN
Cover & Book Design – Ria Loader
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written
permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not
assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
This story is
lending-enabled.
Bagley Road, Hong Kong
S
aira Brighton, Arms master of the Airship
Wind Dancer, wiped her eyes from the burning fog.
First Officer Rogers
claimed the air of Hong Kong was foul due to the city being under a Tesla
Shield. Saira thought he had been using a classic British understatement. The
trapped air created a thick haze of coal and wood smoke, along with the scent
of people, cooking, and the effluvia of animals crowded closely together. The
amazing stench made her eyes sting. She was alert to possible ambush as they
traveled in An Fong's fancy steam car.
An Fong was a Maharajah among the Pacific Rim's smugglers. So
vast were his illegal interests that he was nicknamed 'the Spider'. It was
said there was nothing in the criminal world that escaped his webs. That An
Fong sent such an expensive vehicle to ferry a lowly mercenary air ship
captain, such as William Hunting Owl, was noteworthy. An Fong was showing honor
to the Captain.
William Hunting Owl had eschewed his usual flying leathers and
vest for a fancy dark blue suit with a black silk string tie. The American
Tribesman still wore his flying goggles slung around his neck though. He also
wore a large knife, called a 'Bowie' at his belt. Hong Kong was one of the
stricter British Colonies which forbade firearms to colored people, His
revolver was not visible. Saira could bet it was in a shoulder holster under
his jacket though.
Whatever the Captain had in the metal cylinder in his hands
must be valuable to the Spider. Saira wouldn't relax her vigilance until after
the hand-off. She glanced around the moving vehicle from the open cab of An
Fong's steam car as it crawled through the crowded street.
Cap'n Will was on her left with Giorgios on the other side of
him. Giorgios was one of her 'Tigers', an air devil from the crew she had
personally trained in close ground combat. She was pleased his attention was
focused on the surrounding crowds, alert for threats, as their mission
dictated.
Facing her across the cab was the Fong man's bodyguard, a quiet
sort somewhere in his mid-30's. He was wearing a dark Western-style suit, and he
carried a long leather case. Saira bet the case held either a rifle or a
sword.
The old man to his right was the Fong agent, wearing long green
robes. Both of them wore strange breather masks like the ones Saira had seen on
several of the residents of the city. Given how bad the air was, Saira didn’t
blame them. Seated to the old man's right was Tiku, another of Saira's Tigers,
and she was the only one of the Dancer's crew who spoke Cantonese well. So far
no one had spoken anything at all since they had left the Air-Tower. One big
happy crew Saira thought sourly.
When the old man had led them to the fancy steam car back at
the Tower where the Wind Dancer was docked, Saira had wanted to end the journey
right there. The bright work and polish screamed for attention in the drab
surroundings. Not only would the expensive car attract attention, but the open
passenger cabin fairly begged for an assassin to kill them all. A single hand
bomb tossed into the carriage would do it. The unnecessary danger made her
irritable; not at all like danger they made for themselves.
Saira continued to scan around the car for trouble. It was her
first time in Hong Kong, and she was not much impressed. The residents weren't
nearly as colorful as the people in Calcutta or Shanghai, or even the mix of
residents of Seattle, for that matter. The locals seemed to be serious,
head-down types wearing drab colors, most of their faces obscured by either
breathers or tattered masks of cloth. The thoroughfares were more crowded
though, something she would not have thought possible after Calcutta. The drab
colors of the clothing and buildings was punctuated here and there by bright
colored banners on some of the buildings, or paint slogans that Saira could not
read, splashed along the siding.
They had just turned off Main Street and were moving somewhat
faster now they weren't competing for the road with hundreds of bishaws, the
human pedaled little carriages that had become popular across the world, as
well as the crush of pedestrians. Saira judged they were entering a posher area
of the international trade district. Everyone here wore their Western clothes
like uniforms, doubtless thinking about their bead counting, or what broad wave
show they were going to listen to at night on the Aetherwave.
“I beg pardon for intruding on your thoughts,” he said, keeping
hands on knees. “But do you know the president of the Wovoka Nations?” The
Captain stirred beside her at this. He rarely talked about his homeland.
“Well,” Will said, “you might say I've a passing acquaintance
with the War Chief. I don't know the new Speaker. There's no such thing as a
president of the Tribal Nations, by the way, which is what we call them. It's
more a confederation than anything. Why do you ask?”
“Ah,” the bodyguard said, bobbing his head. “It is this Chief
who I mean. I wondered how it was that a man might lead his people into
freedom.” The Captain cross his arms, always a sign, she thought, that he
disagreed with what you were saying.
“There are some who might say that, I suppose” Will replied
dryly. “Though it ain't so much a case of leading as stumbling forward, you
might say.” The bodyguard frowned at this.
“But did not this Chief, Screaming Eagle, fight the white
invader from your lands and free your people?” He asked, appearing to be
puzzled. She felt Will stiffen beside her.
“Lots of people fought,” Hunting Owl said shortly. “Lots of
those 'white invaders' were born on that same land they died on. They got
burned out of their homes, like the People got burned out of theirs. I don't
know as you can say it brought anyone freedom, only something different.” The
bodyguard's frown deepened at the Captains words.
“I do not understand,” he said finally to Will.
“That's alright, many people don't.” Will said easily. “Take
this here mighty fine car. Can a rice-farmer buy one?”
“Of course not!” the notion seemed to somehow offend the man.
Will nodded, and continued speaking.
“But he has to pay for it anyway. There have to be roads for it
to ride on, and Tesla Engines to zap it. Sooner or later, somebody either makes
him build a road or takes his rice in tax to pay for the public Tesla Engine or
the road they use. But say he does get a car like this one. He uses it to get
his rice to market better. Then he either pays someone money to fix the car,
or he stops being a rice farmer to learn how to fix it himself. Is that
freedom?”
“I have heard this called progress.” The bodyguard's forehead
creased more deeply.
“Maybe,” Will replied. “But the farmer cannot be a farmer
anymore even if that is what he wants to be. The car will not let him. It is
the same way with the People,” Will said tiredly. “They can no longer be what
they were. The world will not let them.”
“Please forgive him, Captain Hunting Owl,” the Spider's agent
said, “He forgets his place.” The bodyguard sat back in his seat, becoming
silent at a stern look from the agent. Lee was the agent's name, Saira
remembered.
“That's alright, Lee, it helps pass the time,” Will nodded
towards the driver. “I don't suppose you would mind giving us a hint as to
where we're going?” They turned at a narrower road that wound up towards where
she could see large houses peeking out of the lush greenery of the hillsides.
“We are headed to the town residence of my Benefactor,” Lee
answered. “It is not much farther. You are most honored in this Captain Hunting
Owl; I have never known An Fong to have a foreigner within his walls before
now.”
Will started to reply when the car abruptly came to a clanking
halt, causing everyone to jerk in their seats. A cart loaded with barrels had
tipped over at the intersection at the top of the hill. The barrels spilled and
shattered across the roadway. Some of the barrels continued to roll down the
hill. One hit the front rail of the car, breaking open to splash cheap
astringent wine. The driver of their car leaned on his steam whistle, as if to
object to the hurtling objects.
Saira's
spirit-sense
gave her a strong feeling of
danger, quite apart from the distraction of the wine barrel. Men in dark suits
appeared from side streets and came running towards the back of the car, moving
in unison. As old Lee began to react, one of the men whipped out a hatchet from
under his coat, throwing it at the now-exposed back of the old man.
Saira drew on her
spirit
strength, her knives flashing
as she shouted a warning. She deflected the hatchet with one blade, feeling the
shock of it running down her arm. There were many attackers in the street all
dressed in Western clothes, screaming as they rushed forward. She silently
called on the Dark Face of the Serpent Mother. The Mother answered her call,
rising and flowing along the energy pathways of her body like a song. Time and
the world of Maya slowed.
She perceived the attackers clearly, seeing them both in the
material world and the spirt world, their auras appearing to her like dull red
clouds. One leapt up on the running board, thrusting a hatchet towards her
face, yelling with a chilling cry. She caught the hatchet on one blade,
slashing open his throat with the other. He died in a spray of blood as others
tried to push through to her from behind him. She followed through from the
slash, cutting deep into the wrist of another enemy who was raising his hatchet
towards the bodyguard.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Will crouch forward, his
aura a deep blue with spikes of violet cascading from it; he had his revolver
out. He snapped a shot while screaming back at the villains. The shot shattered
the face of the attacker who was hacking at Giorgios, sprays of blood blooming
like an evil flower from his hatchet.
The bodyguard almost knocked her over trying to open his case.
The thunder of a shotgun exploded behind her, followed by the crackle of a
sparkie. The sudden smell of ozone and burnt flesh overpowered her senses. They
had to get out of the car, she realized. There was no room to maneuver. If they
stayed in the open vehicle while it was stopped, they would all die.
“Out!” She screamed, “Out of the car!”
Coiling the Power close to her, she leapt into the air,
somersaulting over the heads of two attackers who were struggling over the
bodies of their dead brothers to get at the car’s occupants. Landing behind
them in a crouch, she reversed her knives and thrust backwards up into the
small of their backs. Seeing no other opponents in front of her, she pulled her
blades free and spun around upright facing the car.
As the two men she stabbed fell to the ground, the lights of
their auras faded like wisps of yellow smoke. Tiku, aura radiating brilliant
orange, threw open the double doors on her side, tumbling out amongst the
attackers, her fighting sticks a blur. The Captain squatted down in the foot
well of the car. He shot another attacker who had climbed up on the back seat of
the car. Old Lee, with an aura like green mud, was using a small electric
pistol to accurately shoot the hatchet men that were trying to mob Tiku.
The bodyguard had pulled a long sword from his case. He grabbed
the older Lee by the arms and kicked the car doors on Saira’s side open. Saira
saw the barrel of the shotgun come up from near the driver's cab opposite her
position. The gun boomed as she yelled a warning. The younger man shoved Lee
out the door, diving after him. She turned to see the old man go flat on the
ground with the bodyguard on top of him.
Saira swiveled as two hatchet men rushed her from the back of
the car. She leaped forward under the guard of one, gutting him as she spun
past. When she came upright, she was surprised to see the long sword of the
bodyguard stab through the chest of the other man. He pulled the blade out with
a flourish, then solemnly nodded to Saira. She flicked her blades at him in
acknowledgment. They both turned as the shotgun boomed again.
She saw the Captain crouching beside Lee. He popped up and
fired rapidly towards the front of the car. Tiku was now crouched at the back
of the car on the other side. Still holding the cylinder with his left hand,
the Captain gestured to her with his gun, directing her towards the front of
the car.
“Shotgun,” he yelled, firing twice more before ducking down
again.
Dropping low to keep the body of the car between her and the
shooter, she leopard-walked forward. She sensed, rather than saw, the bodyguard
following behind her. Darting a quick look around the front wheel, she saw the
squatting shooter fumbling to re-load the double-barreled gun. Other attackers
crouched behind him, ready with their hatchets.
Thank Vishnu it's not a repeating shotgun, she thought. Pausing
only long enough to gesture directions to the bodyguard, she charged,
screaming, “Pox rotted filthy goat lovers!”
The shooter turned towards her, dropping a shell in fear. He
tried to bring the open gun up at her like a flail, his lip curled into a
twisted snarl. She slammed the barrel down with her forearms, wrists crossed. Pushing
both arms forward, she parted her wrists, the crossed blades severing the
shooter's head from his neck. She kicked the falling body away from her. She
blocked a hatchet swinging from the left. The sword of the bodyguard flicked
out, piercing the wielders' throat.
With the bodyguard at her back, she focused on the last enemy
standing in reach. He weaved two hatchets back and forth, yowling, then tried
some fancy kick work. Saira wasn't fooled, blocking the kick with her own foot.
She stepped in close, her blades spinning. The hatchets met blades, block,
thunk, and then both of her blades slid into his chest. His dying eyes met hers
in surprise, as he dropped his weapons. She pulled the blades back, and spun
low, sweeping his feet out from under him. He crashed down, legs jerking for a
moment, and then he went still. She whirled around, regarding her surroundings.
She could sense there were no more attackers standing.
