Fogbound- Empire in Flames

by Gareth Clegg

  The shock did the trick. He grabbed his glasses and pulled the door open. The corridor pulsed from dark to a dim red light and the damned klaxon hammered into his head. He set off at a run to the operations centre. There were sounds of voices and scurrying feet all around, and he saw a group of technicians already equipped and speaking with their on-duty colleague.

  “What’s going on?” Nathaniel shouted over the commotion.

  The man looked up. “Something has tripped the alarms in sector three,” he said. “There’s a lot of movement down there, and we’ve just lost our first sensor.”

  Lynch and Blake hustled into the storage area, and Simmons followed. He turned looking back down the brick-lined passage waiting for Curtis to catch up.

  Simmons had left him laying more of his surprises for any pursuit, while he escorted Lynch and Blake. After the deafening explosion of the front door, it had been quiet as they covered the two hundred yards of the dark corridor. The advancing troops must have slowed their pace once they realised the place was booby-trapped.

  Simmons turned to enter the storeroom and heard a distant pop and fizz, akin to a firework. A gurgling scream followed but cut off abruptly.

  “Well, that’s the stairs cleared,” said Curtis as he caught up. “It sounds like the razor-wire took at least one of them though.”

  Those were the things Simmons had worried about when searching Silas Cooper’s house. The tripwires on the stairs might have triggered something similar. Mini explosive devices that spun then disgorged strands of deadly wire designed to slice through both flesh and bone, eviscerating anyone caught in its path.

  “Report,” Lynch’s voice called out ahead of them as Curtis closed the door and set to work with his latest surprise for the advancing Black Guardsmen.

  Turner crossed from the far side of the room, and his face didn’t look as if he had good news. “The tunnel to the station is sealed. All the automatons are lined up ready for inspection, but powered down.”

  “Can you get it open?” Lynch asked.

  “I don’t know how. There are no obvious controls, and it’s a solid old beast. Maybe Curtis?”

  Curtis continued his work, but shouted back, “Sorry, all out of explosives. Left it for our friends outside. I’ve got a little thermite, but not enough if you want me to secure this door.”

  “Damn,” Lynch said. “How much time, Curtis?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “Seal it. We need another option for getting out of here. I’m open to any ideas at this point.”

  “Can we brute force it?” Blake asked as they all moved past the line of identical unmoving labourers.

  “I can’t see that working. It’s sturdy,” Turner replied.

  “Is there a lock to pick?” Lynch added.

  “Nothing I can find,” Turner replied.

  “Forget about the door, how about going through the wall?” Blake said.

  Turner looked up at his friend. “It’s possible, but it will take one hell of a time. I’m thinking a few hours, and we still might not get through. Even with your puny muscles swinging the hammer. Oh, and a hammer would be useful too.”

  “It’s probably opened remotely,” Curtis called to them.

  Lynch turned. “Fletcher, can you do anything with the transmitter? Switch frequency try to activate the door mechanism?”

  Fletcher shook her head. “I cannae do it here, I’ve no got the equipment, and to be honest, it would be pure guesswork.”

  “Fine,” Lynch replied. “I was grasping at straws with that one.”

  Simmons scratched his mutton chops. “What would Bazalgette do?”

  “What’s that?” Lynch asked.

  He looked up, not realising he’d spoken out loud. “I was just thinking about how Bazalgette would approach the problem.”

  “And?”

  “Well, he would review all the evidence we observed about access through the doors then reverse it and search for patterns.”

  Lynch thought about it for a second and nodded. “Okay people, what do we know?”

  Fletcher spoke up. “We saw the automata arrive so they must have come through at each end to get onto the platform. So did someone else open them?”

  “But there was nobody else around,” added Blake, “other than our friendly Black Guard and his colleague.”

  A loud hissing noise erupted from behind him as Curtis joined them. The entrance had a thick steel bar welded across the frame. The golden glow of molten metal dripped like hot wax to the floor, pooling into red lumps as it cooled.

  “It’s sealed, but it won’t last forever.”

  “Come on, what else do we know?” Lynch asked.

  “Well, the door was open when we left,” Turner said. “Now all the automatons are in here, and it’s closed.”

  “So who shut it?” Blake asked.

  “Just a minute,” Simmons said. All faces turned towards him as he thought.

  “Yes?” Lynch prompted.

  “What if we’re looking at this wrong? There wasn’t anyone around to close them, no-one else knew. So what if it’s the automata that trigger the controls?”

  Curtis nodded. “It would be a slick solution. If they have a transponder coded to the door systems, they would have access whenever they needed it.”

  “Exactly,” Simmons said. “If we can get them headed back to the platform, it may be possible to follow them again.”

  “I like it,” Lynch said. “And it’s the only option we have that might work. Simmons, you saw them being programmed?”

  “Yes, me and Blake.”

  “Right, you two get these things moving and find us a way out of this mess.”

  Curtis moved to take the girl Blake was carrying and laid her down next to their sealed escape route. Blake crossed to where Simmons stood before the eight static machines. “After you, Simmons.”

  He cast his mind back. “Automata, attention,” he said to the mechanical squad before him.

  They clicked and whirred to life, their eyes filling with a blue glow. Blake nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

  Simmons looked at Blake. “Should I tell them to do the same as before? Will they go to the station or just pack boxes here?”

  Blake shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Try it.”

  Simmons turned his attention back to the waiting group. “Process new orders.”

  As they had before, the automata issued a mass of clicks and scratches as they processed their instructions for a few seconds, then returned to their usual state of inactivity.

  “Execute new orders,” Simmons said, a slight hesitation in his voice. Nothing happened. He looked at Blake and shrugged. “That was the same as what he said, wasn’t it?”

  Blake nodded. “That sounded right.”

  A dull bark came from beyond the entrance, and the room vibrated, shifting more dust to hang in the air.

  “They’re getting closer,” Curtis called. “One more charge and they’ll be at the door.”

  Simmons looked at the static automata before him. The incredible, but stationary machines stared back at him. What did I miss?

  He took a step towards Blake ready to discuss what else they could try, and with a whir, they stirred. “Of course,” he said. “I’m in their damned way.”

  As he moved to the side, his new troops cranked into motion, changing their formation to fit through the passageway. As they reached the door, it recessed into the wall with a loud mechanical grinding of metal on stone.

  “Squad two ready for duty,” he called to Lynch.

  She smiled. “Let’s move out, people.”

  Simmons split his squad of automata into two halves by jumping between them and blocking their path. Lynch and team slid in between them as the first four continued towards the station.

  Fletcher tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you think we could get ahead of these things, so they don’t announce our presence to anyone on the platform?”

  “I can’t see why n
ot,” he replied. “If you push in front then move slowly until the doors open at the far end then I’ll try to deactivate them.”

  Lynch had been listening. “Blake, Turner. Take point with Fletcher. Let’s keep this quiet.”

  The warehouse door slid apart as they approached, and Simmons cancelled the automaton’s orders. They each slumped into their static state, their eyes fading to black.

  The advance squad moved to survey the scene while Simmons, Lynch, and Curtis squeezed between the four remaining machines ahead of them. By the time they reached the others, only Blake and Turner remained.

  “Report,” Lynch said almost as a reflex. “Whoa, where’s Fletcher?”

  “Ah,” Turner replied with trepidation in his voice. “We have a squad of Black Guard armed with arc-rifles on the platform next to ours. They are alert and patrolling the area, but other than that it looks empty. The main body of the force must still be at the Palace.”

  “And Fletcher?”

  Blake cut in. “I instructed Sergeant Fletcher to find high ground to cover our arrival.”

  “No, you bloody didn’t,” Lynch said. “Gone walkabout again, hasn’t she? I’ll skin the bitch when she’s back.”

  “She’ll have headed for the gantry again,” Simmons replied. “It provides an excellent view of the entire warehouse from up there.”

  Lynch nodded. “You two better get your act together and sort out these Guards, and hope that Fletcher’s all right. Otherwise, I’ll kick your arses up and down the barracks so hard you won’t sit down for a week. Understood?”

  Blake and Turner looked to one another and then back to Lynch. “Yes, Major.” They disappeared into cover and out of sight, glad to get as far from her as possible.

  “A little harsh?” Simmons whispered.

  Lynch turned. “They’re experienced soldiers and make informed decisions. I’m sure Fletcher will be a valuable asset in that position, but I’m not letting them know I approve of her disobeying orders.”

  Simmons chuckled, he liked Lynch’s attitude. He could have done with more officers like her in India.

  Blake and Turner made quick work of the six Black Guards, accompanied by Fletcher from her vantage point. Within five minutes, the platform was theirs, and they transported the unconscious Empress into the carriage on which they’d arrived. It became clear the troops pursuing them must be having difficulty accessing the storeroom as there was still no sign of anyone from the passageway to the warehouse.

  Simmons and Lynch agreed something was required to stop the Black Guard following them in the other train that sat at the adjoining platform. They only needed ten minutes to get to the edge of the wall around the north-west corner of Hyde Park. From there, they could climb down the outside and escape Fogside into the darkness.

  Their other main problem was getting their carriage mobile and heading in the right direction. Once they could attach to the exit rail, the system of cogs would haul them up to the electrified tracks. From there, they would progress on a standard circular route between each of the Inner-City areas.

  Curtis knew they could get onto the riser, and the carriage had an emergency brake which he planned to engage when they reached the point they wished to disembark. Lynch’s concern was if anyone contacted the controllers who oversaw the rail system, they could halt the train. Or worse, redirect it to arrive in a location full of armed guards waiting for them.

  Curtis was out of explosives, so Simmons suggested the gantry could detach the other carriages from the track, making it impossible for them to follow without considerable time and effort.

  As it had been his idea, he headed up to tell Fletcher the good news, and to help her position the crane above the other train. He crossed between the platforms as he had done earlier and was soon climbing the steel ladder. As he peered over the top rung, he saw the rifle muzzle pointed his direction from ten feet away.

  “Ah, Simmons,” came Fletcher’s dulcet tones. “Thought it must be you with all the bloody noise. Have you no heard of stealth?”

  “Didn’t want to scare you when I popped up unannounced,” he replied.

  “You didnae, I’ve seen you all the way across the yard.”

  “We need to move the gantry, see if we can unhook that other train, or disable it so it can’t follow when we leave.”

  Fletcher moved her rifle back to survey the rest of the warehouse. “Why doesn’t Curtis weld the bugger to the tracks?”

  Simmons shrugged. “He says he’s all out of toys, used the last of the thermite sealing the storeroom door.”

  “Aye, sounds about right. He enjoys playing with it too much, never saves enough for a rainy day.”

  “Do you know how this thing works?” Simmons asked nodding at the vast metal beast they stood on.

  “It’s no my speciality.” Fletcher looked along the massive walkway. “The controls are over there. I’m sure a man of your calibre will figure them out.”

  “And I suppose you’ll just wait here while I do all the hard work?”

  “Aye. I dinnae like moving once I’ve found a comfy position, no unless we get to shooting. And this spot is proper cosy.”

  Well, my idea, my task to determine how to move the beast.

  The central section housed a control unit similar to a locomotive cab, and he stepped into the box-shaped structure looking at the vast array of dials and buttons. Though he didn’t understand what most of them were for, he identified the large red switch labelled ‘power’.

  A huge earthy roar issued from somewhere below and the booth shuddered then thrummed to life. He could just make out Fletcher’s voice over the noise. “Seems you’re on the right track, Simmons. Good on you.”

  With his inability to understand the dials, Simmons went for the most obvious choice, a large four-way control lever that looked like what they used to change railway points. He thrust it from its central position across to the left. It jarred amidst a squeal of protest from gears. He released it to return to the centre, then tried again, this time engaging the clutch plate and shoving it over harder. Another grinding of metal, and then it popped into gear. The whole cab shuddered and rumbled along the gantry arm towards the train awaiting detachment. Lights flashed, and sirens blared. Not the stealthiest of approaches, he thought. He cast his eyes over the console, but nothing was flashing or labelled to allow him to cancel the wailing noise. He ignored them and concentrated on positioning the crane over the carriages.

  The first he knew they were under fire was the spang of rounds on the exterior of the cab. He turned towards Fletcher as she fired back. From her expression, he presumed there was one less enemy. She loaded another round into the chamber with a smooth push on the bolt handle and was scanning for a new target.

  A few more shots sounded from below and the unmistakable hum and whoosh of an arc-rifle discharging. Simmons risked poking his head out to see what was happening. A team of Black Guard had established a position at one end of the platform and were exchanging fire with Lynch’s squad. As he watched, another burst of sizzling electricity arced through the intervening space, splintering and scorching the corner of a large wooden crate.

  He pulled his head back in, focusing on a small glass plate sat in the floor, the opening about a foot square. Below he could see the huge set of clamps used to attach and lift carriages or large crates. How the hell does this work? I’ll have to sort it out when everything else is in place.

  He saw the overhead line come into view and reached to pull the lever back to the central position, remembering to engage the clutch this time. The cab shuddered to a stop in line with the track and carriages below.

  “Simmons,” Fletcher shouted. He turned to see her kneeling beside the cab. “We need to get out of here quick. There’s more of them coming. The team will get swamped if we don’t move soon.”

  “I’m trying to grasp how this damn thing works so I can grab the carriage.”

  She scanned the console. “What about that big red butto
n there?”

  “I’ve no idea what that’s for,” he replied.

  She smiled at him as she hit it. “Let’s find out.”

  A loud bang sounded below them, and the gantry shook. As he looked down, the clamp below them dropped, crashing into the overhead line with a sound of splintering concrete and screeching metal. As it slid to one side, the right-hand jaw wedged itself into the carriage amidst shrieks of protesting steel.

  “Okay,” Simmons said. “That will do it. Tell the team to get the train moving. We’ll meet them over there.” He pointed to the end of the walkway.

  “You’re barmy,” she managed, clicked her button five times in rapid succession and took off along the metal limb.

  He followed her lead, his leg was much improved, but he couldn’t match her speed. The firefight below was intensifying and looked like Lynch was trying to lay enough suppressing fire down so they could get into the carriage. It wasn’t looking good.

  He pulled the Holland & Holland from his shoulder and aimed at one of the arc-rifle holders as he lined up a shot. He clicked the button on the goggles Bazalgette had given him, and his vision swam for a second before resolving. The beast roared, and a hole the size of a man’s fist ripped through the makeshift cover. It flung the Black Guard backwards to lay sprawled against a wall painted in crimson. Lynch took the opportunity, and her team bundled into the carriage.

  As a whir of electricity sparked along the line above the carriages, another of the Black Guard popped up to take a shot, but Simmons was waiting for him. The Holland roared again, dropping the trooper, a thick spray of blood splattering the splintered wooden crates behind him. Simmons reloaded as he walked.

  The train lurched forward and stopped as cars clanged into each other, screeching in protest. Blue arcs of electricity leapt along the line again, the intensity of their hum increasing, and the carriage surged again. This time it caught the first of the cogs that would pull it up the steep incline.