Brasswitch and Bot

by Gareth Ward

  Magi Taurus looked Bot up and down. “You’re too big for the stairs. We’ll have to use the service lift.”

  He took them around the side of the building to where a steel caged elevator shaft ran up the back of the spheroidal tower. Magi Taurus hauled the elevator cage door open and beckoned them inside.

  Bot stepped into the flimsy cage, which shook unnervingly. The bearings creaked in complaint and Wrench couldn’t help but push her mind into the workings of the contraption to reassure herself. The gears were somewhat worn, as was the hoist cable, but there was no obvious danger.

  Taurus pulled a lever and the lift groaned upwards, the elevator shaft vibrating ominously. The cage jolted to a halt and they exited onto an enclosed gantry that led to a set of heavy steel doors that matched the curve of the Astrologium structure. The doors slid open in a cloud of steam and Wrench stepped into a masterpiece of engineering.

  An iron walkway ran around the edge of the spherical cavern. On the black steel walls points of light glistened, mapping the constellations. At the centre of the immense structure was the orrery in all its magnificence.

  A glowing glass orb representing the sun appeared to float in the middle of the cavern. Surrounding it, supported on clockwork-driven spars, were the planets, each scaled proportionally and minutely detailed. Around the planets, driven by more intermeshing clockwork, were their moons.

  “You’ve made a model of our solar system?” said Bot with a distinct lack of wonder.

  “It’s more than a model; it’s a computational analogue.” Magi Taurus pointed to a shining red ball that hung suspended near the earth. “The comet is a new addition. It took our astroneers several months to integrate the clockwork correctly once the mathstrologers had detailed the calculations.”

  “And what does it compute?” said Bot.

  “The future, the probability of events, the planetary effects on our existence. It depends on what you ask, and indeed how you ask it.”

  “What did Captain Flemington ask?” said Wrench.

  “I’ll have to get his programs to be exact. I seem to remember he was interested in two particular dates. One in the past and one in the future.”

  Wrench suspected she already knew the dates. Her date of birth and her fourteenth birthday, less than a week away.

  Magi Taurus led them around the gantry. Wrench stuck close to the rail, staring in awe at the giant planets and moons arrayed beneath her. Though she wasn’t consciously probing the clockwork that controlled them, the sheer splendour of the engineering contrived to leak into her brain, like golden threads waiting to be pulled. The threads congregated at the console where Taurus now stood. He depressed the chunky metal keys on the typewriter, spelling out Flemington, and slid the carriage across, sending the instruction. A metal cradle disappeared into a long brass tube, drawn away into another room by a cog and ratchet mechanism.

  “It will take a few moments while it searches for any results,” said Taurus.

  “What else can you tell us about Captain Flemington’s visit?” asked Bot.

  “Well, I remember being somewhat surprised. I thought at first he perhaps suspected us of witchcraft. We believe our methods are scientifically robust but there have been many critics in recent years.”

  “Captain Flemington didn’t show any scepticism?” asked Wrench.

  “None at all. He was delighted with the results. Well, delighted, and somewhat worried.”

  The cradle returned from the tube with two stiff white cards slotted into it. Each card was perforated with an elaborate array of holes.

  “Here we are. Captain Flemington’s cards,” said Taurus.

  “These are his results?” asked Bot.

  “Oh no. This is his program. We must run it through the orrery to get the results.”

  Taurus fed the cards into a narrow slot on the console. Clockwork whirred, and two brass flags popped out from a heavy iron rod at the side of the machine.

  The golden threads in Wrench’s mind coiled around the iron rod. This was it, the control that would initiate something both wonderful and terrifying. She wasn’t sure she believed in astrology any more than Bot, but whether she believed it or not she was certain the results were going to pertain to her. In Flemington’s eyes at least.

  “Can I pull the control lever?” she asked. It was only right that she should.

  “It’s called the taskbar,” said Taurus, curtly. “And no one but the Celestines are supposed to operate the orrery.”

  Bot growled and rested a heavy hand on Taurus’s shoulder, causing the magi’s knees to bend.

  Taurus whimpered and gestured to the console. “I think we can make an exception for the regulators.”

  Wrench heaved on the bar, dragging it downwards. Gears turned, releasing the massive mainspring, and the orrery came to life.

  Along the gantry the lift clattered back into place and the doors rattled open.

  “It appears we have visitors.” Magi Taurus snorted. “No matter how many times they’ve seen it before, the other magi still can’t resist watching the wonderful mystery of the heavens made real.”

  The three figures that emerged from the lift were not magi. Some would argue they weren’t even human.

  The heavy booted footsteps of the hulking giant at the centre of the aberrations shook the metal gantry. The right-most of the three, a woman with what appeared to be long chains instead of hair, stepped onto the steel sides of the Astrologium. With no apparent effort, she walked up the metal walls.

  Wrench pushed her mind towards the woman and for a moment the lines of magnetic force she was controlling that allowed her to scale the metal came into focus. Then the same oily feeling she’d experienced at the church poured into her conscious, clouding her vision.

  The third of the aberrations leapt onto the rail that ran around the gantry. He gripped the thin metal strip with talon-like claws that protruded from the bottom of his pinstriped trousers. What at first glance had appeared to be a multicoloured cloak morphed into feathered wings. With a screech, Parrot-Man launched himself from the rail and soared over the orrery.

  Bot held out his regulator star. “Stop right there,” he commanded.

  The hulk ignored him and raised his right arm, the end of which was shaped like a giant steel hammerhead.

  Bot slung the star. Hammer-Hulk batted it away with ease and it clattered over the gantry’s side. “I hate it when that happens,” said Bot and stormed to meet his adversary.

  Hammer-Hulk swung his arm. Bot blocked it, staggering backwards under the blow.

  “You pack a punch, I’ll give you that,” said Bot, drawing back his arm. “But can you take one?” His fist shot forward and struck Hammer-Hulk in his metal chest plate with a thunderous clank. The man-monster flinched but he didn’t give ground. Instead he slammed his other hand, which was protected by an iron gauntlet, into Bot’s side.

  Chain-Head sprang from the wall and landed on the gantry in front of Wrench. “You killed a friend of ours,” she snarled, baring rusted iron teeth.

  Wrench cursed that she hadn’t worn her bracers of Zeus. There hadn’t seemed a need; it was supposed to be a simple interview. She tried to think of lemons, but her mouth was dry, and she knew magic was out of the question. It was probably a blessing. At least this foe was human, unlike the things she might drag from the other dimension.

  Several strands of Chain-Head’s hair spun in slow, menacing circles. Wrench backed away. One of the chains flew at the console, smashing into the taskbar, stopping the orrery. The chain withdrew, and another lashed out, thudding into Wrench’s leg. Pain shot through her thigh. She stumbled, her leg deadened. A gash in her dungarees gaped open where the sharpened chain had ripped through them. Only the armoured kevlaris lining had prevented the razor-like links shredding her flesh.

  Chain-Head hissed and lashed out with another chain. Metal slammed into Wrench’s leg again. The heavy links encircled her thigh and dragged her over. She crashed to the gantry, h
er face smashing into the metalwork grille. Hot needles of pain spiked her cheek. There was no time to worry about her injuries; she had to defend herself or she was done for.

  Chain-Head bared her teeth and the iron shaped into needle-like points. Three chains drew backwards, plaiting themselves into a rigid bar, the end of which formed a fist of razor linked metal. “We’re not supposed to kill you, but the master never said we couldn’t mess you up a bit.”

  The fist flew at her. Wrench rolled sideways, and it smacked into the gantry. She glanced at Bot, who was still trading blows with Hammer-Hulk.

  “He ain’t going to help you, darling,” said Chain-Head, pulling back the metal fist. The links around Wrench’s leg uncoiled and snaked up her body to grip her neck. The sharp edges pinched her skin but the kevlaris cravat Octavia had given her prevented worse damage.

  Wrench glared at Chain-Head. “I don’t need his help.” Her jaw tightened. She remembered the first time she’d been picked on at the coachworks, strong hands pinning her down while they’d smeared axle grease over her face. She’d been powerless then but not now. She had no bracers and no magic, but she wasn’t defenceless. She’d controlled the electromagnetic fields on the crackle-tram’s motors and she could do the same here, with or without the oily interference.

  She forced her mind through the sludgy resistance, and just like when they’d emerged from the smog to see the Astrologium, the haze cleared, and the lines of magnetic force came sharply into view. Driven more by anger than fear, she concentrated on the chain securing her neck. With a crack like breaking ice the end link split apart, the two halves clattering to the floor.

  Chain-Head stared, unbelieving, at the broken pieces. Wrench seized the advantage. Shattered metal showered the gantry, the chain splitting link by link all the way to its root. Chain-Head’s hand went to her scalp and she screamed, silvery blood leaking between her fingers.

  Wrench clambered to her feet, directing the chains that formed the metal fist to uncurl. Chain-Head took a step backwards then ran. Wrench reshaped the lines of magnetic force, yanking at the fleeing remarkable’s iron-soled boots. Chain-Head sprawled onto the gantry, her hair rattling against the metalwork.

  A whoosh of air buffeted Wrench’s back then taloned feet slammed into the top of her head. She stumbled, her glasses knocked free of her face. Her kevlaris bowler hat lessened the blow but still she sank to her knees, dazed. Ahead she saw the blurry form of Chain-Head fleeing, then an eruption of smoke blossomed around Bot.

  Wrench scrambled for her glasses. A starburst crack ruined one of the lenses. She put them on regardless; she was blind without them.

  Bot stomped from the sooty clouds, his eyes angry. A large dent graced his shoulder and a wisp of steam leaked from the joint. “That bloody great parrot dropped smoke bombs on me and then scarpered.” He reached out a hand to Wrench, the sound of gears grinding beneath his armour. “Are you all right?” he said.

  Was she all right? In the heat of the moment she had no idea if she’d been injured. Blood clung to her face from where she’d smashed into the grilled floor, the bruise on her leg left by the chain throbbed, and she’d cricked her neck when Parrot-Man had hit her. “Better than you by the looks of things,” she said.

  Bot shrugged, the mechanics of his injured shoulder grating. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can fix that?”

  “Only if you want your skull crushed, Brasswitch. Where’s Taurus?”

  Wrench looked around. She’d forgotten all about the magi. From behind a ribbed steel door beneath the console she heard a faint snivel. She tugged the door open. Taurus cowered inside the cabinet, his arms shielding his head.

  “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t tell the regulators anything,” he cried.

  Bot hauled Taurus from the cabinet. “Maybe it’s just my suspicious regulator mind but that sounded very much like an admission of guilt.”

  Still on his knees, Taurus grabbed Wrench’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie. They said they’d kill me. Don’t let him send me to the tower. Please!”

  When Flemington had come for Wrench on the crackle-tram, she’d been terrified, and nobody had raised a finger to help. Her first instinct was to console Taurus but the blood on her face reminded her that the magi had hidden, leaving her to face Chain-Head alone. She pulled her arm free. “It’s not the tower you need to worry about. It’s the dungeons beneath.”

  Steam vented from Bot’s back. He leant over the magi. “You’ve got one chance. I want the whole truth, Taurus. And no bull.”

  “I told them you were coming. I had no choice.” Taurus wrung his hands together. “They threatened to destroy the orrery unless I informed them if the regulators visited again.”

  “Who are they?” said Bot.

  “I don’t know. Truly I don’t. The birdman visited about a month ago. He wanted me to run some programs.”

  “And you ran them?” said Wrench.

  “Good gracious, no. I didn’t want anything to do with an aberration, so I explained that the system was down while we installed some upgrades.”

  “Upgrades?” said Bot.

  “We’d recently put in the new comet hardware, but the calibration wasn’t correct. Magi Aries had been watching Mars; he’s been quite obsessive ever since the discovery of the two moons, and from his calculations we were able to tweak the Mars firmware to 2.01 and that did the trick.”

  “I’m sorry I asked,” said Bot. “Get back to the part about the visit.”

  “The birdman got angry, flapping his wings and squawking about how he’d expected us to be more understanding than all the others. In the end Magi Gemini had to escort him from the premises. A few days later he came back with the other aberrations you saw today. The one with the hammer smashed the statue outside and threatened to destroy the orrery if we didn’t run the programs.”

  “And then you ran the programs?”

  “Not immediately. We were still doing the upgrades, and threats or no threats the machine wouldn’t work until they were finished. The aberrations insisted on staying around and as it happens their skills proved useful in completing the changes. The things that lady can do with metal are quite amazing.”

  Wrench’s fingers went to her neck. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Once we’d done a few test runs and the orrery was working properly I agreed to run their program. It wasn’t like I had any choice.”

  “What was the result?”

  “I don’t know – they wouldn’t let me see. All I know is they wanted to determine the odic force possessed by an individual when the comet was at its closest.”

  “Odic forces are a myth. Pseudoscience,” said Bot.

  “As indeed is astrology according to many in the scientific community, yet here you are quizzing me for the results of our orrery.”

  “Results you claim not to know,” said Wrench.

  Taurus’s eyes shifted sideways, glancing at the console.

  “Remember, I want the whole truth,” said Bot. “Either now or at the tower, it’s your choice.”

  “I don’t know the result – but I do know the program.”

  For all its magnificence, the orrery was still just a computational machine. Give it the same start parameters and the results calculated would be identical. “Run the program,” commanded Wrench.

  Taurus positioned himself in front of the console. He removed the previous card, which had ejected when Chain-Head aborted the program, and placed it back in the cradle. His fingers trembling, he tapped out the details on the typewriter keys. C, H, A, T, T, O, X.

  “Chattox? That’s what you called the program?” said Bot.

  Wrench recoiled at the name. She felt an irrational jealousy that her predecessor should have been run through the orrery too.

  Taurus dispatched the cradle into the tube. “That’s whose odic potential they wanted calculated.”

  Wrench’s gaze swept over the intricacy of the orrer
y. Flemington had been interested in her connection to the comet, and the aberrations wanted to know about its effect on Chattox’s power. They were both supposedly Brasswitches and that couldn’t be coincidence.

  The cradle returned, and Taurus removed the punched card and fed it into the machine. A flag on the taskbar flipped up and he heaved the lever downwards. Steam hissed from the pipes below the orrery and then a bell rang frantically.

  Taurus rushed to the gantry rail and leant over, staring down at the mechanics below. “Oh no,” he said.

  Wrench joined him. She squinted through the one good lens on her glasses. Large black beetles crawled all over the intricate clockwork, their chitin-covered carcasses being crushed between the turning gears and cogs, jamming them solid.

  “They’ve introduced bugs into the system. This is going to take days to fix,” said Taurus.

  Once again, Wrench waited in the sickbay. This time, however, it was Octavia giving her the moral support. With a gentle brush of her tentacles Octavia examined the cuts on Wrench’s face. “How are you doing?”

  “Much better than if I hadn’t been wearing the outfit you made for me. Thanks.”

  “It didn’t protect you enough.”

  “Nothing ever can.” Wrench gestured towards Bot, who sat on an adjacent bed while Plum and a medic-mechanic tinkered with his armour. “He’s made of skorpidium-carbide and he still got injured.”

  The clang of a hammer on metal rang around the sickbay.

  “Ow!” complained Bot sulkily.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” said Wrench. She’d not uttered a sound at the stinging pain she’d endured when they’d cleaned her cuts with liberal quantities of iodine. Neither had she bemoaned the large bruise on her thigh that bore the hue of an overripe damson. She wasn’t even convinced Bot could experience pain.