Steamscape (22 page)

Jing twisted the wrench and grunted in satisfaction. Sweat ran together on his forehead in tiny rivers, but he was grinning. He thumped the wrench against the armored shell of the titangle. It had horrifying talons painted on its bottom, so it would look like a swooping bird of prey from above. “This.”

Drina raised her eyebrows.

“This feels more like home than that mountain ever did. Newer models, too.”

“This is not
why
we signed back up with Saturni.” The assassin tossed a glance at Flame, who was lighting matches and tossing them over the side of the platform. Then she turned back to Jing and shrugged. “Although this is how we grew up. You remember the orphan barge. Workers for hire, cheap. Especially for the military.”

“Ugh. I don’t think that beast could fly faster than a walk.” Jing limped around the titangle, eyeing every rivet. “I remember having two legs then. But, I suppose if it wasn’t for the accident, Mark would’ve never noticed my mechanical inclination like he did.”

“Blood,” Drina said. “Not a great hydraulic fluid.”

“We survived. And it wasn’t just mine.”

Her eyes unfocused. “All those dying children. I remember doing the only thing I could to help some of them along.” She looked down at her hands, spreading open her fingers.

“They were beyond repair, just like the barge crashing down from the sky.”

Flame’s grin flickered. “I remember meeting my friend fire for the first time. So magical. It set me free from that box I was in.”

“Yeah,” Jing sighed. “You were on the barge because you’d murdered your family. That’s why you were locked up like that. Mark only rescued you because you weren’t afraid of any of what was happening.”

“Terrified everyone,” Drina remarked.

“Not you,” Flame replied.

“You’re still terrifying everyone,” she murmured, pointing with her eyes at the staring soldiers. They never came closer than fifty feet, but they never faded.

“We don’t
know
any of them.” Jing set down the wrench. “But they all think they know us.”

Drina chuckled. “I could kill one. Then they wouldn’t stare so obviously.”

Flame smiled. “I like that.”

She shook her head. “I think I’ve gotten old. No practical use for it.”

“I don’t believe that.” The pyromaniac rolled his eyes. “I also can’t believe we’re ordered to just stay here.”

“Orders again,” Jing sighed. “That’s all we grew up with, on the barge and then in the military. But now, I’m not liking them. I didn’t like Mark’s orders over the last seventeen years either, apart from one or two things. One or two significant things…” He looked to Drina for help.

Drina stretched. “I thought coming home would be, well, coming home. Back to our old selves. But this doesn’t feel right either.”

“Probably because the people that used to give us our orders are at war with each other now.” Flame threw another lit match away. “But it’s all about money, innit?”

“It
never
was about the money,” Jing corrected.

“It is now,” Flame retorted. “We can only afford honor, integrity and all that shit when we have civilization and that runs on money.”

“Steam Slayer better not have heard you say that. Were you asking for a two hour lecture on honor and death and duty while he slowly beat your brain outside your skull?” Drina asked.

Flame stiffened. “He’s not here. He probably is living it up killing barbarians. Hell, he’s like them enough anyway, thoughts about honor and a good death and those punching gloves with electrical wires sewn into them. But now it’s all about getting paid.” He shrugged.

A helicopter platform’s shadow glided over them. A woman was flying it. Her petticoats and emerald satin dress blew as if in a windstorm. The mountain of cloth was enough so that nothing could have been revealed, even if under attack by a tornado.

The pilot gracefully twirled the platform around and tilted it forward so that the woman could look directly down at the members of the Hex. She thrust one of the levers forward and the platform leveled out to begin a descent.

The skids didn’t bounce or screech but gently kissed the ground. As soon as it touched, the pilot killed the engine, but like all platform pilots, had to wait for the dual set of blades beneath it to stop spinning.

Drina shaded her eyes. “That can’t be.”

“Adri!” Flame straightened up. He spat into his hand and patted his greasy hair.

The steam princess smoothed down her skirts while she waited. Behind her, the soldiers stared in awe. Adri Saturni
and
the Hex.

The blades finally slowed down enough that she could pull the brake lever. They jerked rigid in their tracks. She pushed back from the controls and daintily stepped down from the platform, using the blades as stairs. She pulled her shoulders back, raised her chin and walked over to the Hex. Her parasol snapped open like a pistol shot.

“I had to see this for myself.” She looked them up and down. “My little birds had mentioned that you were back, but I thought it was pure propaganda from the board.”

Jing looked away. “You hardly look a year older.”

Adri laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Li, but flattery failed on me long ago.” Her expression faded to a smirk. “I’m sorry to see that you are no longer the secret weapon my father has.”

Drina frowned. “Do you know what the secret weapon is? You seem to hear of most everything.”

Adri laughed again. “No.”

“No, you don’t? Or no, you won’t tell us?”

“Just no, my lady.” She twirled the parasol on her shoulder. “I just couldn’t believe that if the Hex were back, well, halfway back, that Steampower would advertise you like a new airship. If you don’t draw a battle in your direction then I am not the steam princess.”

Jing slapped the wrench across his palm. “We’re not here for a battle.”

“No, you’re here for the vessel.”

“Where is she?” Drina stepped forward, her hands out of sight.

Adri shook her head. “Not even I know that one. Quite probably dead.” Her eyes glowed. “But it worked. Out of all of them, one vessel worked. Truly worked, not just survived. After this war, we can start again.” She turned as if to leave, and then called over her shoulder. “And if Ms. Canon is still alive, you’d better hope to find her before I do.”

She raised her hand toward the gathering wall of Steampower soldiers and waved. “And don’t forget to smile for your audience. I do pray you’ve learned how to play for the crowd since last we met.” She blew a kiss toward the waiting soldiers.

***

Solindra glared at the waiting soldiers. There must have been a score of them, most of them walking behind the engine-cart. Her boots sank lower into the mud and the stream behind her gurgled. She lay flat in the yellowed grass and watched through the stems.

The carriage’s water container on the boilerbox was glowing cherry red.

As she watched, they changed from their neat Steampower uniforms into farmers’ overalls.

Freezing water coming off the mountains pulled Solindra’s attention back to her knees. The water was creeping up the fabric of her clothes and screaming to be noticed. Her chattering teeth might be enough to give her away. She wondered if she were sporting icicles off her boots. The rifle rested against her back, weighing her down. She wished she had it ready to shoot, but she’d barely had time enough to dive to ground.

Presently, one of the soldiers cussed and banged on the overheated engine with a spanner. “Thought this was their finest equipment!”

“Maybe something happened when we unloaded it from the train,” another speculated. “It crashed down those last few feet.”

“But it worked fine when we fired it up!”

“Get some water,” a third voice called. “We need to cool this beast off. I don’t think we’re gonna make the rendezvous with the others.”

Solindra started shaking her head. No! she thought. No, you don’t need any water!

Two of the men trotted over to the stream, several yards away from the vessel. Solindra pressed herself further into the mud and held her breath. She heard them splashing into the creek and filling something metal, like a bowl or a helmet.

Footsteps squelched in the sucking mud and trotted back in the direction of the engine-cart.

Solindra started to exhale.

“Hey. There’s something shiny over there.”

The vessel cursed, but still didn’t move.

The footsteps squelched closer.

I could probably get one shot off if I rolled over now, she mused. But then what?

She heard the metallic click of a rifle’s hammer. “Hands up! If you’re alive that is. Hey, boys, I got someone!”

She cussed again and raised up her hands, pulling her face up from the mud. She looked up the barrel of a gun to a face that couldn’t have been much older than her own. His dark eyes were wide.

She kept eye contact with him while the rest of the soldiers surrounded her. Two of them grabbed her arms and dragged her away from the stream. She left a slimy trail of mud dripping off her clothes and boots.

A man, dressed in a straw hat and overalls, frowned at her with a well-oiled gaze. “Refugee?”

“Perhaps, Major,” one of them said.

Solindra shook her head, her teeth grinding together.

He glanced over her shoulder. “No. Not with a cannon like that. Whose side are you on, girl?”

“My own.” She kept eye contact.

Another soldier ran his finger down the length of her rifle’s barrel. He unhooked the buckle on the strap and pulled it into his hands. “Looks weird.” He pumped the action like a shotgun, reloading a fresh bullet and wasting the round already chambered. “Whoops!”

“I thought you’d know how to use a rifle,” Solindra snapped.

Several soldiers warily chuckled at the one holding the gun while he fumed at her.

The major’s frown deepened. “Not your say, girl. We can’t have witnesses and we’re traveling too lightly to take prisoners.”

She felt her stomach drop. The world seemed to ice over instantly. “I didn’t see anything! My face was in the mud the whole time!” She kicked out at one of the men holding her arms and scored a heavy crack on his knee. His grip loosened.

The other soldier stamped down on the back of her calf, and wrenched Solindra to the side. She coughed and gasped, off balance and held in place.

The man she’d kicked leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “What’s this?” He reached out to the muddy shape hanging from her belt by a length of twine.

She had the perfect view to watch his entire body tense in one jerk and his mouth twist into a rictus.

He screamed, causing all the other soldiers to jump and raise their own rifles. He started clawing and swatting at his skin. “Swarm! Swarm! Swarm!”

The others stared perplexed at the clear sky, aether bands twinkling in the sunlight.

“Get off me!” The soldier ripped at his arm, peeling off a length flesh with his nails. He gasped like a dying fish. “Kill them all!” The man lunged forward to the engine-cart, still holding the sancta in his hand. “Kill them all!”

“No!” the major thundered. He drew his sidearm.

“Oh no!” The last one holding Solindra yelled and let his grip go. “Get the masks! Get the masks!” He started running.

The soldier with the sancta had retrieved a large metal canister from the cart.

The major raised his arm and fired. The screaming soldier collapsed, but not before he activated the clockwork switch.

Solindra watched as the soldiers’ faces blanched and took on the pallor of horror. They started hollering and charging the engine-cart, or just running away.

The dying man hunched back. The gears turned and several metallic darts fired into the sky, trailing smoke.

The vessel hopped backward into the stream. Her ankles sank deep into the black mud, but she didn’t notice. She pressed her arms to her chest and lifted a bubble of steam around her, like the one she had used to hide in the river before. She was operating on reflex now. All she could do was stare at the soldiers sprinting.

The darts exploded with three heartfelt pops, and they scattered in the air in three opposite directions before seemingly destroying themselves. The metal pieces fell back to the ground.

Solindra tilted her head. She could barely see anything through the slight haze of the steam.

But she could see enough. The men dropped to their knees, clawing at their throats. It was the same as those bodies in the corridors below Steam Central.

The major managed to crawl the farthest, and stopped moving with his hand against the engine-cart’s door.

Solindra’s jaw hung open. She turned her gaze back to the soldier who had fired off the canister and saw her cipher medallion still clutched to his chest. His face now sported the grotesque grin of death, leaving his eyes staring off into some other world.

Her steam bubble wavered in a squeak of panic.

Maintain! she screamed to herself. Don’t think about it and just maintain! She held her breath and tried to remain still.