by Gareth Clegg
The frozen scene burst back into motion, dust swirled, clangs echoed from further up the tunnel, and Rosie dashed across the intervening distance to grab his outstretched hand.
“I can’t open the gate, I’ve tried everything.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “But why did it stop here?” She looked through the narrow gap between the steel jaws.
“The power failed,” he replied, unwilling to go over the hour of desperation he’d spent seeking a solution.
The noises from up the tunnel sounded more like a forge with huge metallic clangs. Those weren’t glancing blows anymore.
Nathaniel gripped her delicate hand. “You need to get out of here. Gabriel can’t last much longer, she’s running out of power. It’s only a matter of time.”
“I can do something,” Rosie said, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll persuade Josiah.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t think he’s willing to listen to anyone now. He has his sights set on ArcNet, and he won’t give it up. Our only hope was to…”
Rosie’s eyes leapt to meet his. “To flood the tunnels?” she asked.
Nathaniel’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“It was just there in your mind, like an unfinished sentence.”
“It’s too late. I’ve drained all the power from the control panel.”
She looked up at him again. “But… there’s an override in the tunnel? And you weren’t going to tell me?”
She pulled her hand from his, stepping away.
“Rosie, no. You wouldn’t survive, and I couldn’t bear it.”
Her face softened, and she stepped back. “I’ve done so much that I’m not proud of, Nathaniel. Horrible things, you can’t imagine.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do”. She lifted his hand to her cheek. “You see something in me that I can’t. But I have this chance to do something right. To save Gabriel and defy Josiah, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll flood the damned place and wash away all the filth with it.”
She gripped his palm tight in her own, her nails digging in, but he couldn’t feel it for the ache that flooded through his chest.
“Rosie, please—”
“I wish this could have been the start of something. Something that might have lasted.” She turned, heading into the dark void.
Nathaniel rammed his shoulder into the narrow gap, trying to maintain a few seconds of extra contact. Pain screamed along his arm, but he didn’t care. “Rosie, no!” he yelled, his other fist hammering on the insurmountable mountain of steel between him and the woman he loved.
Rosie couldn’t bear it, but she had to stop Josiah. It hurt leaving Nathaniel in such torment, a physical pain burned in her chest. She pushed it aside and steeled herself. As she hurried through the darkness, she focused her mind on the task ahead.
The sound of fighting up the tunnel had stopped. As she rounded a corner, a metal behemoth towered triumphantly over Gabriel, who had slumped to her knees before it.
Josiah laughed. “So, all out of power. No more bouncing about avoiding the fight now, is there?”
Rosie found the alcove from the mental picture she had somehow gained from Nathaniel and slid into it, peering her head around to view the scene. She focused as she breathed in and pushed her thoughts out towards Josiah—a subtle tendril of doubt.
He paused, looking down at the battered ArcAngel below him. Gabriel looked up, and surprise showed in her face at the unexpected reprieve. “I never wanted to fight you, but you must understand I cannot break my vow to my Empress. I am sworn to protect her as the ruler of this once glorious Empire.”
He considered for a moment. “I can accept that. Loyalty is a fine attribute for one’s subjects, but I mean to take this Empire and mould it to my ideals.”
“Let Victoria rule,” Gabriel said. “Make yourself an invaluable ally. You can find great meaning and reward from your skills. Look at what you have accomplished with that new ArcAngel armour, it’s astonishing. You are truly a master Horologist.”
Rosie pushed. Yes, Accomplished. Horologist. Ally.
“You think so?” Josiah said, contemplating his next words. “But why should I not just take what I want? I have the power and opportunity now.”
“There’s a better way Josiah, leave this petty feuding and join with us in making this city what it once was. The Empire will be great again. You don’t have to burn it all down.”
Rosie pushed for all she was worth, reinforcing Gabriel’s words.
“Yes,” he said. “I can see that.”
It was working, though Rosie’s head throbbed as if it were about to explode.
“An interesting idea,” Josiah said, “but no.”
His hand shot down, and metal shrieked from Gabriel’s chest as he hefted the heart in his palm as if measuring the weight. “I will rule my own Empire, and all shall bow down before me.”
Tears flooded Rosie’s cheeks as she collapsed to her knees. “No.”
Josiah jerked his head up to scan the area, catching sight of Rosie. “What do we have here?”
“No,” she said again, trying to stifle the sob.
Gabriel’s body toppled, crashing onto the dusty tunnel floor, a small cloud leaping into the air. Her head came to rest facing towards Rosie, but all the life had left the eyes, now just dark, glassy orbs.
Rosie whirled as she felt someone behind her. Her pistol was in her hand from a smooth motion that would have impressed even Simmons. But she was alone.
“What are we going to do with you, my dear?” Josiah asked, taking a step towards her. “Always popping up at the most inopportune moments. We must put a stop to that.”
Puzzled and with her body on edge, she returned her attention to Josiah. There it was again, a cold, slimy movement coiled up her back and snaked over her shoulder in a sinuous embrace.
Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to release herself from the sensation, but there was nothing there, nothing she could see. No, it was happening again. She’d experienced this before when they strapped her to that infernal machine. It had come back for her.
An ear-shattering scream shook the surrounding darkness. Only when she felt the hoarseness of her throat did she realise that she was making the throat-cracking sound. Her vision swam with tears as a curtain of red mist engulfed her. A cluster of oily black orbs emerged through the fog, locking their gaze onto hers, dragging her down into an endless dark abyss.
43
Rosie awoke to the sound of crying. She felt lightheaded and couldn’t think where she was. Darkness surrounded her, wrapped her in its folds of black cloth. There was the sobbing again.
Her eyes opened to a scene of destruction. Thick clouds of brick dust billowed in the air, but she found no problem breathing. She was in a tunnel, the walls cracked and missing half their bricks. The arched ceiling sagged towards a pile of rubble in the middle of the floor while warped metal rails jutted up from the ground, embedded into the remaining brickwork. She heard the muffled sound again. It was coming from the mound.
It shifted as something moved, breaking through from below. A humanoid head and torso emerged, bricks rained down to crack on the floor as the thing pushed itself up out of the filth.
The memory came flooding back to her—Josiah. The metal monstrosity pivoted its mangled face towards her. Its left side was a ruin of exposed flesh and bone packed with dirt. One eye glowed with blue light from its dented metallic skull.
“You fucking hybrid whore! Look what your twisted mind has done.”
He stumbled as he put his weight down on the ruined remains of his right leg. It had sheared off above the ankle, trailing electrical wires that sparked as they brushed against the metal frame.
Gunfire rang out from the tunnel along with the cries of the injured and dying. Great arcs of electricity and gouts of flame lit the darkness, silencing the last screams of agony. In the distance, the sound of boots falling in unison approached.
As she peered towards the sounds, it brightened enough for her to see dark shapes in long trenchcoats—the Black Guard. In their midst was an officer, surrounded by a squad of heavily armed escorts. They marched through the carnage unfolding around them as the other troops finished the last survivors of Josiah’s gangs.
“I’m going to rip your fucking arms and legs off and feast on your remains,” Josiah screamed, his disfigured metal hands clawing himself through the surrounding rubble.
The honour guard moved into position on either side of the tracks, an aisle opening between them as the officer strode forward to survey the scene of destruction. “You did all this?” he said to her, motioning at the carnage wrought on the tunnel and Josiah. She didn’t answer.
“Impressive,” he continued. “Perhaps you are ready to come back where you belong.” He brushed the shoulder of his uniform where dust had settled. The silver insignia must mean something she thought. There were a lot of daggers and crowns. “Do you even know who I am?” he asked. His voice was cold, reassured, commanding.
“I know you, Robertson, you arrogant whoreson,” Josiah said, spitting the words as if they were venom.
“Ah, Josiah, isn’t it? It seems you have finally shed that foetid skin of leather you called flesh and chosen something even worse.” Robertson sneered at the ruined fusion of flesh and metal. “I am unaccustomed to being insulted. You will refrain from doing so.”
“Or what? Do you think you can intimidate me like the rest of your spineless council?”
“I only give one warning,” Robertson said his voice calm and unbothered by the outburst. “Dispose of it.”
Four of the dark uniformed escorts stepped forward, levelling their weapons at Josiah. Three arcs of electricity leapt from rifles and a hum of power built from the fourth trooper. He flicked an ignition switch, and the tip of his weapon burst into life with a blue pilot flame.
Josiah writhed on the ground screaming from the constant arc-rifle discharge. Sparks arced around the mangled frame as ozone filled the air along with the smell of burning hair.
That was pleasant compared to when the flames rolled over him. Rosie turned her face from the intense heat across the tunnel, as the remains of Josiah’s flesh melted and charred to ash. The screaming rose to a vile crescendo then broke off. All that remained was the greasy odour of smoke and burnt meat.
“Enough,” Robertson ordered, and the troops ceased their fire and returned to their positions. He turned his gaze back to Rosie. “Before that rude interruption, I asked if you knew who I was.”
“I do now,” she replied, trying to look calm, though her stomach was roiling, and she struggled to keep it from heaving its contents onto the ground. Cold beads of sweat formed on her brow. “You’re the Commander of the Black Guard.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
“What? You want me to recite all your fucking titles?”
“There’s no need for incivility, girl. I merely asked if that was all you know of me.”
“You are the leading member of the High Council and a traitor who has usurped power from the rightful Empress? Was that more what you were after?”
Robertson held her with a stern gaze. Then with a sad smile, he shook his head. “This is disappointing, Rosemary, and I don’t enjoy being disappointed, especially by you.”
What Blakelocke had pleaded for her to listen to, it was all true. The realisation slammed into her like a black train. All the pain and anguish she’d suffered, the men she had tracked down and murdered in revenge for the ordeals they forced upon her. It all paled into insignificance. They weren’t the ones she should have butchered, he was. General Sir George Frazer Robertson—her real father.
A single tear rolled down Rosie’s cheek. “Don’t call me that. Never call me that.”
Robertson laughed. “Ah, so you do remember, girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“Of course you are. Now let’s end this nonsense and head home. There’s still lots of work to do, and after taking time out of my schedule to track you down in person, I’m behind on other important business.”
Rosie’s eyes hardened as she glared at him. “I am not going anywhere with you. I’d rather die.” She glanced at the smouldering remains of what had been Josiah and swallowed.
“Rosemary, no,” Robertson said, his calm demeanour gone in an instant, he was all command and control now.
Something echoed in the back of her mind. “What did you say?”
“I said, No. You will not speak to me like a spoilt child.”
‘Rosie, no’ she thought, where had she heard that? The idea scratched at her subconscious, unwilling to leave, then it flooded in, Nathaniel! She remembered what she came here to do.
“Apologies, father, you’re right. I shall act like the adult I am and not the child I was.”
“Excellent,” he replied, his demeanour back to that of a loving parent.
“I have just one thing I need to say. Go to hell.”
She reached back and pulled the emergency release switch.
“What?” Robertson bellowed, his face a mask of utter disbelief.
A rumble sounded from somewhere above, growling as it rushed to greet them. The Black Guard looked around, trying to identify the unseen threat. Then it was upon them, a deluge of water roared towards them, filling the tunnel. They panicked, dropping weapons, turning in a futile attempt to outrun it.
“Sorry, Nathaniel,” Rosie whispered, willing the words to reach him. She turned, her arms outstretched to embrace the thundering tsunami as it engulfed her.
44
Fletcher slammed the metal door closed behind them and stood there in the dark corridor leading into the heart of ArcNet. Nathaniel slid down the wall and slumped into the freezing water gushing through the grills from the platform.
“Get up,” she yelled at him. “We havnae much time before we drown in this shit.”
He sat there. All the life drained from him. “She’s gone.”
“Aye, she’s fucking gone. And so will we if you dinnae get your arse in gear.”
Nathaniel stared at the two inches of water as it continued to rise.
“Oh, for the love of Christ. Do you think I want to drown in this filth? Get moving, or you’ll no just be killing yourself, you’ll be killing me too cos I’m no leaving you.”
“Just go.”
“Look, I’ve lost plenty of friends. It’s an occupational hazard in my line of work. It looks like you havnae, and I won’t lie to you, it’s fucking hard. But think about what she would have wanted for you. She did this so you could live. Imagine if the roles were reversed. If you’d been out there with the choice, would you want her to give up and drown?”
Nathaniel continued staring at the rising water. “No, I would have died to save her.”
“I know you would, pal. Now you have to survive to make her sacrifice worthwhile. Otherwise, it was all for nothing.”
Fletcher offered him her arm, and he grasped it, letting her help him to his feet.
“Good man, come on.”
They ploughed their way through the frigid water as it rose steadily. A thick foam bubbled on the surface up to their chests as they approached the central core.
They both held their prized possession above their heads as they waded through the submerged corridors; Fletcher had her rifle, Nathaniel, his arc-lamp. He’d disconnected it from the battery just in case it shorted and electrocuted him, which would be somewhat ironic after finally deciding he wanted to live.
The repeating warning slowed, warbling to a halt. Water must have reached the console. The lighting still flashed red but was flickering. It wouldn’t be long before the failing power thrust them into blackness.
“Where now?” Nathaniel asked as they entered the central core. In all the chaos, he realised he didn’t know the escape route.
“Far side of the galley, there’s a room that looks like a secure lockup, double bulkhead doors.”<
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“I thought it was a cell.”
“No, there’s a ladder that leads up to the surface.”
They pushed on through the rising water, the smell was the usual mixture of sewage and decay, but at least there were no signs of red weed.
Fletcher coughed and spat out a mouthful of the stagnant water. “I swear if we get out of this, I’m gonna kick your arse for fucking about back there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dinnae be fucking sorry, just be fucking quicker.”
The bulkhead doors hung open. It would have been near impossible to pull them against the weight of the water.
Nathaniel gestured towards the ladder. “Ladies before gentlemen.”
“No fucking way, pal. You might decide you want another wee sit down. Get your arse up there. I’ll be right behind.”
He smiled and reached for the first rung. Above them, a circle of blue lit the shaft, and as they began their ascent, faces appeared silhouetted against the sky.
“Fuck me, Fletcher. You smell like you shat yourself,” Blake said, pulling her up the last few rungs.
They embraced. “You’re not exactly roses yourself, big man.”
“Glad you made it, lass. We were all worried.”
“All of you? Oh, that’s nice. Where are the rest of the uglies?”
“They’re escorting the Empress to a safe house. Well, as safe as anything is now.”
Fletcher turned to Nathaniel. “How you doing? Up for one last push? Then we can all put our feet up and have a wee drink.”
“I wouldn’t say no to tea,” Nathaniel replied.
“Right you are. Blake, let’s be moving. I need to get out of these wet clothes.”
“No time like the present,” he replied.
“In your dreams, pal. Here I am trying to be all fairy princess in front of Bazalgette, and you’re ruining it.”