by Patrick Lane
“Like what?”
“Like you always do, you crust-cragging dross wit.” Her cheeks stayed slightly red and her anger had somehow evaporated, replaced by something else. Embarrassment, if Nifty were to guess.
He resisted the urge to smile and instead opted to keep her off balance.
“What did you find out? I didn’t think this Helix had libraries anywhere near the size of those in Terraport, especially here in Textermire.” He turned to signal to the young waitress.
“We haven’t found anything. And you didn’t answer my question,” she fired back, trying to muster a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
The Monsourion sidled up to the table quietly and started clearing the dishes, and Ryder, who had blended into the table upon Lulu’s arrival, became visible once again and skipped across the table to Nifty’s side.
“A triple-shot espresso, if you please,” Nifty asked. He turned his head to Lulu, waiting.
“Lichen juice, please,” She grumbled reluctantly. “Hold the ice.”
The girl nodded and left the pair in silence.
“Repairs and taking a break to buy a few things for friends and family back home,” Nifty finally replied. “There was an explosion during that dreadnaught business and Scotty is taking a couple of days’ rest in one of the well-beds. But you read as much in the report.”
Lulu eyed him with quiet suspicion.
“And you needn’t worry – I won’t be returning to the train for a few hours, so Belle has more than enough time to poke around looking for clues while you keep me company on my errands.”
“That’s outrageous! Belle is prepping our train…”
“Then why haven’t you left?” he pressed. “Why even try to follow me? You or Belle obviously spied me with a far-scope or one of your dusters did, and noted that I left without Scotty. It wouldn’t take an acumen engineer to realize he may be taking a rest in the well-bed, especially considering the shape of the delve-train’s hull.”
Trying not to look too deflated, Lulu braced herself for another try just as their drinks arrived.
“Don’t worry,” Nifty winked at her. “I won’t tell her you spilled the beans.”
“Spill the beans? I have no beans,” she replied, puzzled.
“Forget it, it’s a thing… One of the topsider engineers I know says it all the time. It means, I won’t tell Belle you told me too much.”
“You’ll not tell Belle anything because your teeth will see the business end of my truncheon,” she almost joked, her embarrassment at getting caught, causing her to drop her defenses momentarily, allowing him to see a side of her that few ever did.
Nifty just smiled, raised the small cup in salute, and downed the espresso in one shot. Locking eyes with her across the table, Nifty set down the cup and leaned in closer, a look of mock severity on his face. “Now, let me ask you one thing. Can you keep a secret?” At Lulu’s puzzled look, he reached down and picked up his pack.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nifty still couldn’t believe his luck in finding Lulu at the Helix. It turned out she probably knew more about the city than many of the permanent residents. Her partnership with Belle had taken her to more Bastions than almost any other Ranger and had forced her to establish a more than just a rudimentary understanding of their designs, histories, and engineering requirements.
She’d been shocked but intrigued to find out about the cache of airiron in his backpack, torn between ordering him to get rid of it in the mantle and a morbid fascination to find out what kind of work could be done with the dangerous metal. He deflected all her arguments and eventually managed to talk her into accompanying him on his trip to the machinist’s platform.
Laying out his plans, he’d found her to be surprisingly agreeable once she’d made up her mind to help. It was to be the first day, or in this case night, he would get to spend with her alone in its entirety and he didn’t intend to waste it.
“I was wondering why you were being followed,” Lulu remarked as they left the tavern. “Someone has latched onto that airiron.”
“The snakes at the checkpoint,” Nifty sighed, not having seen his shadow yet not surprised it was still there.
“Well, let’s just see what happens. It’ll be full dark in an hour and I’m sure that’s what they are waiting for. Idiots obviously don’t realize that Rocktower Rangers can see in the dark almost as well as we do in the light,” she said, covering herself in the green cloak once again. “Now let’s catch one of the lifts to the lower platforms.”
“What lifts?” He fumbled the pack onto his shoulders, a little annoyed at how bulky the tea set was. He stepped quickly to catch up to her purposeful stride.
To his delight the residents had re-engaged the ancient’s lift fountains. They were simple swirling discs of metal and stone, of all different sizes, that used columns of water to lift man, beast, and machines hundreds of feet between the city platforms. They depended on the Helix engines to generate precise lift pressure for each disc. Nifty stood captivated as he watched smooth pillars of water raising and lowering dozens of various sized loads. He knew that energy surrounded each column of water, somehow maintaining its shape, but he fought to remember from his text books as to how exactly this was achieved. The lifts at Rocktower were also hydro-powered but the jets were relegated to heatstoked tubes that lacked the elegance and complexity of these beautiful fountains.
They boarded a disc with several other passengers and dropped two levels to a foundry platform. Even from a distance he could hear the machines and forges at work, and wondered how long he’d have before they shut down for the night. He’d researched a handful of machinists before he’d left Rocktower, but he was afraid that it may have been for naught, as it had been for the far simpler ceraniron castings.
“This dreadnaught you faced, what was its origin?” Lulu asked unexpectedly, careful not to let her voice carry to the other passengers.
“Neither of us recognized it,” he replied quietly. “It was shaped like a stylized trident, large enough to dock the frigates and house torpedo bays across its outer edges. But nothing like anything I’ve seen at a Hydrohelix or any other Ascendant dock for that matter.”
“Trident? You’re right, I don’t remember ever seeing anything resembling that. So that means it’s either a new construction or some kind of ancient salvage. If it’s old, Belle is sure to know its origin. We can check with her once we return to the trains.” The lift glided to a halt and they all stepped off.
The buildings on this platform were of a far different nature than those above. Although equally beautiful, most were covered in elegant serpentine ducting, designed to carry away the smoke from the forges and metal shops for filtering. All had far thicker walls, better suited for keeping the noises of their industry inside. The platform was still rather busy and he could see freight carriages being loaded and brisk business being done on a long boulevard running along the center. Their entire walk, he could feel curious eyes on them as they made their way.
“Hey, let me ask you something. Is Belle harassing you about upgrading all the time? I get no end of it with Scotty.”
“Yessss,” she almost exploded. “Thank you – I’m glad I’m not the only one. Has Scotty used the ‘Rune upgraded four months ago’ argument on you yet?
“Every chance he gets.” He joined Lulu in a laugh, the sound sending a thrill through him.
Then, in a deep voice: “It’s getting embarrassing, son. You should be a Corporal by now.” He felt a little guilty mimicking his mentor, yet found it impossible to resist given the resultant giggle from Lulu.
Waving him ahead with a final smile, like a machine, Lulu dropped her shields, her face becoming an unreadable mask as she entered the shop behind him.
Inside, things didn’t quite go as planned. He quickly found he was forced to become extremely circumspect about the airiron when discussing his requirements for a proper machinist and forger.
Several workshops l
ater, he was in a quandary. The larger foundries found no value is such a small job and dismissed him out of hand. Other, smaller shops seemed better suited for making basic shapes and simple tools, nothing requiring the skill needed to forge airiron. He made the mistake once of mentioning the word airiron and the suspicious owner promptly kicked him out, wanting nothing to do with the metal.
It was completely dark now, the buildings lit only by the glow of street lamps and arcing fronds of the iridescent ferns planted in narrow gardens spotted along the streets. They were in a large cobblestone courtyard between buildings and the boulevard to either side was almost completely devoid of people.
“I told you, you should just drop it in the mantle or sell it. I don’t think you will find anyone to forge it,” Lulu said, as they exited the shop, her impatience at the futile search beginning to show.
“Oh, I think we will,” said a familiar voice at the edge of the shadows, emerging from an alley between the buildings. The voice’s owner was joined by a rag-tag gang of street toughs that hemmed them into the courtyard, allowing no avenue of escape, each one carrying either a splinter staff or equally menacing blades and clubs.
The voice came from the broad Yolon guard from the customs office, similar in size to the man at the tavern, but sporting that short set of horns jutting from his jaw, and with a much shorter, oiled beard curling from underneath. This time, Nifty noted that instead of the plain metal shoes the man wore sharpened metal slippers encasing the lower half of his hoof-like feet. The salt adder was still curled about his body with its head extended over his right shoulder, its tongue flickering expectantly.
As Nifty sized up the gang, he realized its leader wasn’t alone in his genetic shift from the norm – without exception, each one of his companions also bore the effects of augmentation gone slightly awry. Two of the thugs were Monsourion women with decidedly cat-like features and sleek black hair covering the exposed parts of their bodies. Yet another was a Hydrohelixer carrying his staff in what looked like tentacled hands. The group closed in cautiously.
Less than a dozen, Nifty counted. That was a mistake. He took a step back and wondered if he should put down his tea set as he waited for what he knew was coming.
There was no discussion, no negotiation, no begging…well, not yet.
Lulu exploded.
Whipping her cloak off, she fanned it out towards the Monsourions, sending a wall of cloth their way, briefly blocking their view., Then, she pivoted the still-holstered truncheon under her armpit – Nifty heard it snap loudly as its shaft telescoped out nearly twenty feet across the distance, punching through her cloak and into the eye of the closest of the cat-like woman, eliciting a loud shriek of pain. Retracting the head in an instant, she repeated the maneuver, catching the other woman in the throat, dropping her to the ground gasping for air.
Good, thought Nifty, remaining still. Monsourions were always the trickiest; their speed made them incredibly difficult to deal with. Best to get them first.
Nifty looked down at the hissing sound of Lulu’s knee-high boots activating, the top plate of the shin guards separating from the front and rising to her knees. With her free hand she pulled out the whip; flicking it hard, she buried the leaf shaped tip into the workshop wall, behind the Yolon. She gave it a hard tug and used the accelerators in her boots to launch herself across the distance, crushing her knee into the horned jaw of the leader, collapsing him back in a heap, pinning the salt adder beneath him.
In a smooth motion she landed and dropped low, spinning into an almost feline crouch. Grasping the truncheon by its t-handle, she drove the butt into the ground and braced herself as the piston inside punched down, propelling her high in the air toward the two toughs converging on Nifty. Both, like sacks of dirt, were dropped at his feet, as Lulu’s truncheon telescoped out, finding the backs of their skulls.
The thugs quickly regained their bearings from her vicious attack and didn’t to go down without a fight. Several times Nifty was almost forced to join in, but held himself back. The thugs were untrained, and other than dodging a couple of clumsy blows and using one of his shock gloves to send a bolt of energy down an unsuspecting spinal column when the man backed too close to Nifty’s tea set, he was more than happy to let Lulu handle the riff raff. It was only good manners, after all.
“There’s only two of them, you slagging cowards,” barked a snout-nosed attacker, noticing the reluctance of the rest of his party as the full impact Lulu’s martial skills became apparent. Waving the rest of them forward with a long-handled axe, he added, “Remember what we’re here for. With that air metal we needn’t work for a slagging year…” His words were cut short as Lulu’s whip found his throat and he was yanked forward into an unyielding elbow.
Nifty had studied her fighting style at the academy grounds as she’d trained. An attrition fighter, she favored constant motion, rarely committing herself to full power unless the advantage was hers.
She danced among the attackers. Nifty knew the Link allowed her to almost feel her whip tip whispering across a brow, like one of her own fingers, as it sent blood into the owner’s unlucky eyes. Her truncheon was just as happy breaking a single finger holding a staff as it was shattering a kneecap. As the enemy attacks broke down, she moved her own attacks closer, letting her knees, elbows, and fists do more of the work.
Grunting hard, she flipped a young, yet elusive Sukairacian, who had managed to avoid the worst of her attacks by countering with several dozen small throwing knives, keeping her truncheon and whip busy deflecting each salvo. That was until he ran out of blades, and he’d quickly found himself in a face to face meeting with the cobblestone street.
A particularly well-guarded Boloczar woman, nearly eight feet tall, who had remained hidden in the one of the side alleys during the initial confrontation, emerged just as Lulu connected a heel to the temple of an already limping Hydrohelixer. With her armored skin, the woman managed to absorb several blows from the truncheon, before finally connecting with a vicious back fist, sending Lulu sailing through the air to slam into the foundry wall.
Nifty winced at that until Lulu rounded on the woman, letting out a primal growl. From across the distance she buried the tip of her whip in the Boloczar’s abdomen, releasing an energy blast along its length, lighting her up like a sun sphere.
With the largest of their party felled, the courage of the rest evaporated quickly, and the remaining street thugs retreated, dragging their still conscious comrades with them, leaving the unconscious and incapacitated behind.
The entire fight took less than a few minutes, yet left Lulu breathing hard. Crossing the distance, she advanced on him with fire in her eyes. He was about to step back to protect himself when she pushed the tea set box to the side and grabbed him by the lapels pulling him in close. “You didn’t fight?” she finally said, locking onto his gaze. “Thanks, I needed that – most men would’ve interfered.” Then she turned away as if it had never happened. She leaned down to scoop up her cloak, evaluating the two holes with pursed lips. “You can get the next ones if this didn’t scare them off.”
She looked down to survey the groaning thugs. “I delivered no fatal blows, but if these dross-wits were better organized or at least knew how to fight as a unit, this could have ended rather badly for both of us. This is a whole lot more fuss than I think your blazing bat s worth.” She looked over to Nifty appraisingly and, using the same mock severity he’d used earlier, asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Y-yes.” Nifty answered still recovering from being dragged in so closely: he’d almost expected something else.
“I may know someone who can take care of your airiron, but you can’t say anything to Belle. She’d dangle me over a lava lake if she knew I’d told you.” She turned to leave.
“Wait,” Nifty ordered, followed by, “Wait, please.”
Lulu spun, and he could see in her eyes that she was still a little agitated from the fight.
“Your face,” he s
aid indicating the cheek where the Boloczar had connected. “You’re bleeding like a fresh cloven milk weed. We need to look at that before moving on.”
“Forget it – not here. We don’t need to get waylaid by the city guard.” She booted the downed Yolon in the rib she added, “I think I recognize this dross-wit from the customs office,” and started to walk away. “The residential platforms below should be a safe enough place to stop for a moment or two to deal with…” she ended, with a wave of her hand.
Leaving the bodies behind for either the authorities or their comrades, Nifty followed Lulu and they descended on another fountain to, if possible, an even prettier level, with winding pathways and meticulously manicured gardens. Despite the hour, families congregated in small parks, walking with animal companions or enjoying a picnic under the gentle glow of street lamps as their children played.
Weaving through the buildings, they finally arrived at a broad grassy field dominated by several heatstoked sculptures that were surrounded by fountains, the entire park lined with neatly-trimmed phosphorescent hedges and dozens of benches that almost seemed to disappear into the landscape. Again, he was surprised at how busy the city was at what for most Helixes would be dinner time.