Clockwork Chaos (31 page)

When the alien device he had demonstrated for Miss Edgars and the others at Lord Mach’s had been delivered to him, it had not been brought by itself. Another unidentifiable contraption, discovered at the same site, had been delivered unto him with it. Pointing toward a slender metallic cylinder on a work table in the corner of the office, he said, “That is it, there. And that is why I call this office yours, because I need someone with your particular talents to work with me to bring this operation forward to success.”

The librarian had moved toward the table as in a dream, scarcely conscious of having moved at all. Once both of them were standing next to the metallic device, Biggleton tapped a button built into its side. Immediately a sound filtered into the room, a type of nervous chittering which made the hairs along the base of Filimena’s neck itch intensely.

“My dear Mr. Biggleton, wha-what is this thing?”

“I must confess to being not entirely certain,” admitted the scientist. “The device, it speaks, as you can hear, but in a language I’ve never encountered. Sometimes, however, it chatters along in a tongue you know exceedingly well... the language of mathematics.”

The librarian’s eyes went wide, then relaxed. As she began to make the proper connections, Biggleton explained, “I’ve spent endless hours here, talking to this device, straining to understand it. What little I have learned of the machine which I demonstrated to you and your companions, I admit freely I was led to by this thing—whatever it is.”

“But... what does this have to do with me?”

“Miss Edgars, it is your particular combination of talents which is key at this juncture. As an accomplished linguist with a stunning knowledge of mathematics, I’m certain you will be able to break the last barriers necessary toward understanding what this thing is trying to reveal. Considering its proximity to the other device when it was discovered, I’ve begun to think of it as a sort of instruction manual.”

When the librarian simply stared, her mind reeling over all she had heard, Biggleton said, “Your expedition to Xibor, you encountered a horror which could pass through the barriers which separate existences—yes?”

When Filimena agreed, the scientist continued on, telling her, “This is what I meant when I mentioned the wall of sleep. This is where I want the Gibraltar to take me—take us—to a point beyond our own world, to the shade between Heaven and Limbo, where dwell creatures such as your Xibor... creatures we shall be able to reduce down to their basic elements and then transform into overwhelming power—power that shall make Great Britain the strongest nation in all the world!”

And, properly entranced with the notion of helping to make her home the mightiest sovereign authority in existence, Filimena had accepted the offer of employment with the Ministry of Extraordinary Weapons. For days on end she worked feverishly, sometimes not sleeping for fifty, sixty hours at a stretch. She listened to the clicking machine voice, spoke to it, studied its speech patterns, learned its nuances, sang to it, and joked with it. After such an extended period of time within the ministry walls she could not remember actually when last she had seen the sky, Filimena Edgars achieved the breakthrough which would throw the Gibraltar and all aboard her into a series of cataclysms so preposterous that even a writer of grand opera would not dare attempt to present them as believable.

Three Days Ago

“Mr. Biggleton,
Mr. Biggleton
—come
quickly
!”

The scientist had raced to the office next door, not daring to hope that Filimena’s excited cry could mean what he obviously hoped it meant with all his soul. Slamming open the doorway, he bolted to her side, his eyes widening.

She exclaimed, “It’s been done. The wall of sleep is pierced.”

“You mean...”

“I mean, our little friend here,” she said, gently patting the cylinder next to her on the table, “and I have become quite conversant. He understands us, knows what we want, and is ready to lead us to our goal.”

“Are you certain?”

*I am ready to lead you to the destination you wish to reach*

Biggleton stared at the cylinder, his eyes wide, his mind frozen in astonishment. Yes, he had communicated with the thing over the months, had even come to name it Roger in a moment of anthropomorphic weakness. But, to that date their discourses had been things constructed from the most broken of fragments, struggled together from the tiniest of shreds.

*you wish to use the triempalator to capture Bugg-Shash*
  the odd, static-filled machine voice sounded again.
*we can depart whenever you wish*

Biggleton staggered, overwhelmed by the moment. Visions of a knighthood dancing within his brain, he smiled weakly at Filimena, finally after several long moments managing to ask her to contact Captain Dollins and have him prepare the Gibraltar for departure. Brushing a long strand of perspiration-drenched hair away from her face, the librarian nodded and left the room, even as the head of the Ministry of Extraordinary Weapons collapsed into a chair and closed his eyes, laughing softly at nothing in particular.

One Day Ago

“Well, that’s the last of it.”

Spitz nodded his head energetically, agreeing that everything they could possibly need had been loaded aboard the mighty airship Gibraltar. Stevens stared from one end of the great dirigible to the other, searching for some flaw or complication which he might use to delay their lifting off. The pilot was no coward. He had faced numerous, overwhelming dangers in his time, both human and otherworldly, and triumphed on every occasion. Like his friend, Spitz, he was not one to worry about his skin or what became of it.

At that particular moment, however, it was not
his
skin about which he was worried.

“Captain,” shouted Stevens as Dollins drew near, “do you really think it prudent we take Miss Edgars on this voyage? I mean, well... you know... a woman on board, and all.”

“Oh, Jackie,” responded the older man, his understanding smile draped sadly across his face, “now don’t go gettin’ all ’earts and flowery on me. Our Miss Edgars proved herself just fine last time out. Don’t you worry about ’er none.”

And, before more could be said, an official government carriage arrived, from which Biggleton disembarked first, offering his hand as he did so in aid to the aforementioned Filimena who exited directly behind him. A ministerial flunky followed, bringing the triempalator—as the other mysterious artifact, the one named Roger, had identified it—and Roger as well. Before long, the crew had boarded their airship, the ministry’s machines had been loaded, the flunky had departed and, with nothing further standing in their way, Captain Dollins had given the word, and the Gibraltar had gracefully lifted off and headed for the clouds above.

Once a proper altitude had been acquired, Dollins had asked for a course heading to which Biggleton had replied, “Ask the machine.”

Quickly Filimena explained what had been learned about the second device. Struck by the marvel of it all, the captain simply instructed Stevens to point the Gibraltar in the direction indicated by the chittering box, amazed he had lived long enough to witness such an age of marvels. For some hours the great ship plowed the airways without incident or interruption, despite an ever-darkening of the sky. Below the ship the ocean churned violently, some manner of monstrous gale building at a frightful speed, but when the Gibraltar finally arrived at an area well out over the ocean—a spot with no sign of land in any direction—the machine sputtered slightly, then announced;

*the breech nears... you must prepare for entry*

Having positioned the triempalator at the front of the gondola earlier, Biggleton moved forward to utilize it so they might reach their goal. The shattering of the ethereal membrane that separated their slice of existence from all others was a tricky business. With Roger’s guidance, the scientist had learned that one might transverse from one side of the veil to the other only in or near areas of great meteorological disturbance. The monstrous gale building far off the coast of Wales was a perfect disrupter of the local ether for them to be able to stick their metaphorical foot into the opening inter-dimensional door and keep it there until they might pass through to the other side.

*you must descend three thousand feet*

“That’s crazy,” shouted Stevens. “That’ll bring us down too far into the storm.”

“It will indeed do so,” agreed Biggleton. “But only for a moment. Once we reach the proper depth, use of the triempalator will slide us out of this world and into the next.”

“Is anyone looking at where we’re being asked to go?” queried Stevens. Pointing out the front windshield of the gondola, the pilot noted, “If the sun’s gone black at this altitude, we’re looking at quite a tea party if we start to descend.”

“We took the money, Jackie,” said Dollins quietly. “And the Queen’s money at that.”

Gripping the proper controls, Stevens muttered a silent prayer and slowly began to ease the Gibraltar into a steady, measured descent. After the first thousand feet a frosty rain began to coat the windows. The sound of thunder increased all around them, while occasional bursts of far-off lightning made the maintenance of smiles increasingly difficult among the various voyagers. At two thousand feet, the heavily reinforced skeleton of the airship began to vibrate, the growing winds outside working to slam the Gibraltar off course.

At three thousand feet, the ever-growing cacophony of clacks, clanks and rattles echoing throughout the ship had everyone’s nerves strained to the edge, when suddenly, Roger announced,
*search for the opening now*

“And, my fine box of gears and cogs,” snapped Stevens, barely able to hold the ship’s wheel in place against the pounding force of the maelstrom outside, “just what in all the roasted Hells is this opening supposed to look like?”

“I believe,” sputtered Filimena weakly, her one hand pointing out the window to their left as her other hung onto a stanchion for dear life, “what grows there before us might possibly be that for which we’re looking.”

As all eyes turned, they found a silvered crack in the air, hissing purple sparks from some far beyond into their own atmosphere. Wild with excitement, Biggleton snapped, “That’s it—take us in and through to the other side!”

Gritting his teeth as well as grabbing hold of his failing nerve, Stevens pulled on the large ship’s wheel and tilted the Gibraltar in the direction of the cosmic rift. The pulsating impossibility appeared to drift toward them even as they fought the growing storm to reach it. Then suddenly the fluidity convulsed and expanded, swallowing the great dirigible in a spasm which cut the airship off from not only the storm, but from light, sound and sensation.

“What the bloody ’ell’s ’appening to us?”

“Captain, I can’t... can’t seem to breathe... I—”

Before Filimena could finish her sentence, however, the atmosphere around the Gibraltar rushed inward once more, revealing an entire new world about the explorers.

“Where in blazes are we?”

“As suggested earlier, captain,” offered Biggleton, staring out into the vast, unbelievable vista of oddly shifting colors before them all, “we have traveled beyond the wall of sleep, we have marched past dream and imagination where we will snare the energy needed to make our beloved England the mightiest nation in existence.”

*no... you shall not*

All heads turned toward the cylinder known as Roger. As each in turn tried to imagine what the machine voice could mean, it saved them the effort of doing so by explaining,
*you shall do no more than bring death to your species... as was intended*

“Ummmmm, well,” responded Stevens, his hands still gripping the ship’s wheel as tightly as he had during the storm, his anxiety now even higher, “I’m certain these intellectual types know what you’re talking about, but if you wouldn’t mind... could you throw a bit of an explanation in with that statement? Just call me curious.”

*the triempalator was placed on your world to be found... I am of the Mi-Go... my race mines worlds for elements we do not possess ourselves*

Spitz entered the bridge at that moment, but none gave him any notice, their entire attention focused on Roger.

*we have done so here, many times throughout your history, but human interference has become simply too unbearable... you must be eliminated... thus you were given the triempalator*

“But how does giving a tremendous weapon to one’s enemy make any sense,” questioned Biggleton.

*your type is always greedy... as soon as you found you could use the device to acquire limitless power, you threw all wisdom aside and rushed to where you were told you could find power*

Roger made an almost smug sound, a chittering chuckle as it were, after which it continued, saying,
*I offered no proof, merely implied that you would find ultimate power here, and thus here you raced... you are idiot children compared to the Mi-Go*

“So you mean,” asked Biggleton ruefully, “that there is no Bugg-Shash?”

As Spitz strode forth, listening to the cylinder with curiosity, the machine answered,
*there is a Bugg-Shash... that is him, coming for you even as we speak*

The human contingent turned their attention toward a point far off the Gibraltar’s starboard side, all of them moving as one, all of them overcome with the horror of what little they could discern of the thing closing on their position. Vast was the approaching darkness, an inky morass spread across the alien background, a writhing nightmare of boiling energy, a thing covered in bleeding eyes and screaming mouths, a mass sliding hungrily forth to envelop them all—only as a beginning.

*And you are helpless to do anything... we Mi-Go learned long ago how to transfer our consciousness from our bodies into containers such as the one from which I now speak to you... you are powerless to resist my voice... I shall merely hold you in thrall until Bugg-Shash has reached your vessel*

Each of the crew knew the voice they were hearing spoke the truth. As all of them attempted to resist, struggled to do more than simply stand and stare out the window, Roger told them,
*he is a creature of infinite appetite... as he flows over this conveyance, he will consume you all, then follow the trail you have left back to the doorway to your world*