by Gareth Clegg
While Callam waited, tapping his foot, the intercom remained silent. “Raph?”
“I’m thinking,” came the reply.
“Raph, are you going to open up or not?”
“No.”
“What?” Callam said.
Another short pause. “No, I’m not opening the door. There’s something odd about your behaviour. I don’t think I can trust you.”
“Look everything is fine, I thought you would like this surprise, just open the door. Please?”
“No. I’m flooding the compartment.”
“What? No,” Callam shouted.
The corridor plunged into darkness as the arc-lights dimmed, then glowed red. A blaring klaxon accompanied the change of lighting, deafening in the tight confines.
Green-eyes shouted, “Shit. Pull back, now.” Boots shuffled then ran towards the intersection but halted with a resounding metallic clang. Simmons glanced over his shoulder to a bulkhead now trapping them in a twenty-foot coffin of steel.
“He’s sealed us in,” she called back. “Callam, do something.”
While Callam continued shouting at the speaker, trying to get some response from the person beyond, Gabriel moved to stand before the intercom, a picture of calm.
“Raphael,” she said, her voice barely audible above the klaxon. “This is Gabriel. Let us in.”
Silence.
She repeated her request.
“Gabriel? No, it’s a trick, some ruse to gain access to the core,” came the sharp reply.
“Raphael, this is a direct order. This is ArcAngel-One, cease the alarm and open the door. Do you understand?”
“No, no, it can’t be. She’s dead.” There seemed more than a hint of panic in the voice. “She’s dead.”
Dark water burst into the room, spraying from vents in the ceiling. The familiar smell of the Thames flooded the room as torrents of the brown muck splashed from the floor rising quickly around the beleaguered group.
“It’s her,” Callum yelled over the wailing alarm. “Raph, it’s Gabriel, she’s back.”
“No, she abandoned us. Left us all to die. She would never have done that if she was still alive.”
Gabriel shook her head, and her shoulders slumped. “Priority override one six two. Code gamma delta alpha omega.” She shouted the syllables out thick and fast, fighting against the deafening siren. “Cancel alert. Access the core.”
The klaxon cut off in an instant and left most of the occupants with their hands still over their ears. A grating sound of metal came from above, and the deluge ceased. With a gurgle the waist-high water started to recede, several small vortices appearing as it drained from the compartment. A bright arc flickered behind the rising bulkhead before them. As the thick steel wall approached its zenith, Simmons saw what lay beyond and gasped. He wasn’t the only one.
Patterns of light strobed within the dark circular chamber ahead of them. Cables cascaded down the walls and snaked across the floor to a central dais. Upon it sat the shredded remains of an ArcAngel torso, built into a fused mess of metal, wires and tubes. The blue energy pulsed along the cables and glowed as it climbed the body, past the stump of a ruined metallic arm to a half crumpled faceplate.
The thing creaked as it shifted, appearing as though it was tilting the remnants of its head to inspect the trespassers. Amid streams of warped and melted metal, a single ocular lens whirred as it turned to focus on Gabriel.
“But you’re dead,” it said. The crackling was a feature of its voice, not the intercom. “You left me all alone. So alone.”
“No, Raphael, I’m alive, and I’m here,” she reached up, wiping a tear as it slid from her watery eyes. “Dear God, what did they do to you?”
Callam conducted a brief tour of the facility on the following morning. It seemed designed for a crew of at least four times their current number of twenty-three. Bazalgette stopped at a workshop where a group of technicians greeted him. They all wandered off discussing the equipment and issues they had problems with. Word had spread of his repair of Gabriel’s armour, and now he was being treated like royalty.
The rest of them moved on to the security area where green-eyes and four military types sat in discussion. Callam introduced her as Major Lynch, and it seemed she ran a tight ship.
Simmons continued the tour keeping as much distance as possible between himself, Maddox and Rosie. If Callam noticed the tension between the three, he said nothing to show it.
“So what was all that nonsense about yesterday?” Maddox asked.
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” said Callam. “Raph has become increasingly paranoid over the last couple of months, but we’ve never encountered an incident like that before. Gabriel is spending some time with him, to work things out.”
Maddox pushed on. “But there must be something that triggered that behaviour? Doesn’t it worry you he flooded that compartment with us all in it?”
“Could he do it elsewhere?” Rosie added looking towards Callam.
“Yes, he could. He’s wired into ArcNet.”
“Wired in?” Maddox asked.
“Yes,” Callam replied. “they designed ArcNet to have a direct interface with one of the ArcAngels at all times. It’s part of what made them so effective.”
Maddox raised an eyebrow. “So he’s got full control of the place?”
Simmons had heard enough. “As interesting as all this must be to you, I’m sure Callam here has much better things to do than answer all your questions about how this facility operates.”
Callam sighed. “I do have a considerable number of tasks I need to get on with, so if you will excuse me?”
“Of course,” Simmons said with a nod.
Maddox stared at him, his eyes dead like a shark. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” Simmons replied, keeping his face and voice relaxed.
“I was trying to find out if this Raphael might be a problem.”
“Yes,” Simmons said. “You seemed a little too interested for my liking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maddox shot back.
“Oh nothing, just commending you on sniffing out trouble.”
“Simmons,” Rosie said. “I thought we’d been over this at the station?”
He flashed his most innocent smile. “I’m complimenting Maddox. He’s the one that seems to be taking offence. Anyhow, I’m parched, and I’m sure I noticed a tea urn when we passed by the mess hall.” He turned on his heel, leaving Maddox and Rosie as he strode back towards the central hub and their quarters. His leg hurt like hell, but he was damned if he would limp in front of them.
They all met that evening for supper. The food was simple but tasty. Bazalgette was full of the ideas he and the technicians had been working on. “The facilities here are astounding, and the power grid? That’s something else.”
“So, you’ve enjoyed yourself today, I take it?” Simmons asked between bites.
“Oh, yes. They are a knowledgeable group, all excellent scientists, well versed in Tesla’s theories and principles. I would even say I’ve learned a few new things.”
“No, surely not?”
Bazalgette smiled. “I don’t know everything, Simmons.”
The two friends chuckled until they heard the ringing of a spoon on china. Looking to the head of the table, Gabriel stood holding her teacup before her. “Apologies for my absence today, but I needed to spend time with Raphael. He has endured a lot these past four years, as most of you well know. Thanks to the efforts of our newfound friends, and to Nathaniel for his work restoring my systems.” Applause rang out led by the technicians.
“Thanks to their help, they have brought news about our Empress and details of the peril she faces. Now, some of this we already knew, but there is more interesting information regarding the Black Guard. Nathaniel?”
Gabriel motioned to Bazalgette as she took her seat.
“Yes, today my colleagues and I discussed the disturbin
g new technology that has come to our attention. Mainly, we spoke of the Watchmen and the timepieces created for them by Dent.”
Simmons leaned back and listened as Bazalgette told the tale of the murder at The Britannia Inn through to the present. It included the use of the watch, Josiah’s involvement and the retrieval of the schematics. Bazalgette’s story held nothing back. His memory was astounding, but Simmons wondered if this was the right place or time to be revealing all the information in full. Gabriel must have spoken with Bazalgette about this and convinced him it was a good idea, so who was he to argue with the will of an ArcAngel?
As Bazalgette completed his story and took his seat amongst the murmur of conversation, Gabriel stood again. “Now we know the full extent of what the Black Guard have been plotting, the exchange of the Empress for an imposter and her imprisonment somewhere in the Inner-City. We must plan a means to retrieve Victoria and restore her to her rightful position.”
Gabriel glanced around the silent table. “To achieve this goal, we have several areas that require attention. Raphael has informed me of increased activity among the Black Guard, centred on Kensington Palace. We believe this is where Victoria is held captive and where we can locate the imposter. Both of whom we need to retrieve.”
A murmur of assent flowed around the room until Gabriel once again called for quiet. “Besides retrieving the Empress, we also have to deal with the High Council, including General Robertson and his Black Guard. We don’t know how many of the members have become involved in this conspiracy or if they’re just afraid to oppose Robertson. It may be fear of reprisal against themselves or their families that are keeping them in line. Regardless we need to look for allies and any information that could be of benefit to us. Our final issue is that of Josiah Dent,” Gabriel cast her eye to Rosie. “Is there anything you would like to add about him and his organisations?”
Rosie stood. “The first thing is you shouldn’t underestimate him. Josiah is a brilliant man, regardless of his quirks, and a Horologist to boot as Nathaniel will attest to.”
Eyes turned towards Bazalgette, who nodded his assent.
Rosie continued. “I worked with him for a time, and his influence reaches far across London and beyond into the wastes. He has already united three of the four main gangs, only the Elephant and Castle oppose him, and that’s because they have leadership issues and hate the Red Hands. He also created a lot of support from the working class by using political agitators to cause unrest and turn them against the government, but they remain fiercely loyal to their Empress. When Josiah found Nathaniel and Simmons, his approach changed somewhat, leaving them to locate and retrieve the schematics.”
She paused for a while, her eyes lowering. “I feel now that he used everyone around him, including myself, to further his agenda. I don’t expect sympathy from any of you. I have done questionable things while working for Josiah.”
Her eyes caught Bazalgette’s for a moment, then dropped to the table before she continued. “Regardless of all that, He’s been planning this for some time. Now, with the schematics to the original Dent designs, he’s set to become the greatest threat to the city, and to the cause we follow to rescue the Empress.”
Bazalgette raised his hand. “I suppose the question in everyone’s mind is ‘could he fabricate the watches and the armour?’ Well, with the watch stolen from Simmons and myself, I would have to say, ‘Yes’. From my brief introduction to the man, he has the skills and access to all the industry required to manufacture. The only saving grace is getting the components to power the devices is difficult. Tesla obviously didn’t leave a stockpile of energy-cells, and they now need items of Martian technology, and as far as I am aware, the government jealously hoards these.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Nathaniel,” Rosie replied. “He is a resourceful man, and his gang contacts give him easy access to the black market that trade in those sorts of artefacts recovered by independent scavengers. So Josiah may already have them. Even if he doesn’t have them yet, be assured he will organise raids on storage facilities. His ambition knows no limits, and he’s not afraid to waste a few lives to achieve his ends.”
Gabriel returned to her feet. “Thank you, Rosie. So, we have several issues, and the clock is ticking. I suggest we think about this overnight and reconvene in the morning. We have people we are trying to contact that may provide help for our cause. Once we know their situations, we can divide into working groups to investigate each specific area that requires our attention. Are there any questions that need addressing now?”
The room was silent as the gravity of the situation sank in.
“Good, let’s meet here again at seven am. Dismissed.”
36
Simmons woke early, the sky only just starting to brighten. He kept irregular hours, but with the dull aching pain from his leg, he wouldn’t get back to sleep again.
He rose and dressed, relishing the cold running water from the basin in his room. Drying his face on the soft white towel, he patted the area around his right eye, conscious of the bruising below it.
He lifted the black leather patch from the bedside cabinet, raising it to his socket and positioned it by touch. His fingers probed the edges, making subtle adjustments until it felt comfortable on his face. It would have to do. He thought he was becoming more adept at fitting it, but it was still early days.
Back to the table, he plucked a dark-coloured bottle from the top drawer and took a few sips of the mixture. He’d added a decent whisky which improved the taste of the laudanum no end. None of the bitter tang remained from his initial exposure to it mixed in water.
He placed it into his inside coat pocket and left in search of the messroom. The corridors stretched ahead, lit by the dimmest of glows from the overhead lighting. Simmons moved through the quiet halls with just the sound of his boot heels clicking on the polished concrete floor.
To his surprise, the place wasn’t empty as he’d expected. The large frame of the engineer lay slumped at a table, head resting on folded arms. As Simmons entered the big man inhaled sharply, his eyes cracking open at the approach. Callam brought his hand to his mouth, stifling the long yawn that forced itself from him.
“Didn’t mean to wake you. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up and about at this hour.”
“Don’t worry about it,” replied the Welshman. “I only meant to have forty winks.” He picked his half-drunk cup from the table and took a sip, screwing his face up at the taste.
“Cold, eh?” Simmons asked. “Perhaps you needed a little more than a nap?”
“Right you are, it’s been hectic lately. What with your arrival, Raphael’s mood and Nathaniel’s suggestions, there’s a hell of a lot that needs to happen and soon. Sorry, where are my manners? Do you want tea?”
“That sounds splendid,” said Simmons taking a seat opposite Callam. “So what’s Bazalgette got you doing?”
Callam stood and walked over to a large metal urn. “He’s offered a few profound ideas that have us thinking along different lines.” Steam hissed and rose as he filled a teapot with boiling water. He placed two tin mugs onto a wooden tray, adding a milk jug and a bowl of sugar cubes. “It’s quite the intellect he has, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Simmons agreed. “He continues to amaze me, not that I’m any great thinker.”
“Now then, we’re not all men of science, are we? I’ve heard about your exploits in and out of the city.”
“Really?” Simmons squinted at Callam. The huge man looked like he was carrying a child’s tea set in his oversized hands. But to give him his due, he had a delicate touch as he laid out the items from the tray - his placement of each piece measured and precise.
“Oh yes,” Callam continued. “Your name is all over the bloody place. The Black Guard are having a fit.”
“You have access to Black Guard communications?”
“Ah. Has no-one mentioned that?” Callam’s face was quizzical for a moment as h
e mulled thoughts over. “Well, what the hell. You are causing them some right royal mischief. The enemy of my enemy and all that?”
Simmons nodded and Callam continued. “It’s part of what we have been doing for the last few years. We have gathered a lot of intelligence, intercepted messages and, Raph’s cracked most of their cyphers and encryption.”
Simmons raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
“Well, we’ve had a little help here and there. A few people in positions of influence have given us an edge. That’s what I’ve been discussing with Gabriel, bringing her up to speed. She’ll cover it at the briefing this morning. We know where they are holding the Empress, we just need to find a way into the Inner-City.”
“You have spies placed in the Black Guard?”
“Oh yes, and a few people within the government too. Nothing like council members, so don’t get too excited, but they hold positions that give them access to useful information.”
“You realise what will happen to them if they’re caught?”
“We are all aware of the disappearances and what they mean. These are all royalists, brave men and women who have done more than sit by and watch this country collapse from the corruption that festers within the halls of government.”
“But are they willing to die for those convictions?”
“Every last one. Many have already given their lives to get information out so we would be ready to strike back when the opportunity arose. And it seems there will never be a better time than right now.”
“I agree,” Simmons said.
“It gets my goat. I can’t believe how the Empire is teetering, how anyone could become involved in something like this. It’s treason, that’s what it is.” He slammed his hand onto the table, the silverware leaping and clattering against the china. “Apologies, but I’ll be happy to see the back of all those traitorous bastards. How could Robertson do this? He was the bloody regent, there to look after Victoria, help her rule not bloody usurp her power. If he’s laid a finger on her, he’ll have me to deal with. Well, I suppose whatever’s left of him after Gabriel’s finished with him.”