All this had taken only a matter of seconds but now everyone else’s attention was fully on him.
“Stop him!” Wormwood screamed, but Valentine was already moving. He was a sitting duck, exposed on top of the gangway. Even though he had a gun, this was simply a by-product of his assault on his guard, it hadn’t been the main objective of his plan. All that was on his mind now was that he needed to even the odds. What he needed now were reinforcements. Dropping the pistol, he turned and ran.
A shot rang out, the bullet panging off the grilled floor of the walkway, but he was already two strides ahead of it. And every bounding step brought him closer and closer to the looming presence that was the motionless golem-droid. The only thing about the automaton that indicated it was still operational was the weakly pulsing glow of light behind its headlamp eyes.
Another shot sent sparks flying from the walkway in front of him, but Valentine didn’t falter in his frantic sprint to reach the robot. He heard Wormwood scream for his men to stop shooting and get after him.
And then he was there, gasping for breath, the hulking automaton and the captive Quicksilver before him.
“My sword!” the dandy hissed at him, craning his head in an effort to see behind him as crewmen left their work stations and moved to stop the valiant Prime Minister. A siren sounded, accompanied by the pounding of feet moving along adjoining passageways. “It’s in my cane. Take hold of the bloodstone. Pull it free!”
Valentine had no idea how strong the droid’s self-defence subroutines were, how it might react if it found itself threatened. Well, he was about to find out.
QUICKSILVER STILL HAD a hold of his cane in his left hand, although with his arms pinned to his sides, he had been unable to do anything more with it. But Valentine could.
Grabbing hold of the bloodstone, as Quicksilver had instructed, he pulled hard. As he reeled backwards, the keen rapier blade slid free of the black wood shaft.
For a moment, Valentine thought he saw the light within the robot’s eyes pulse and he felt ice water trickle down his spine. There really was no time left to lose. He either acted now to save the day – and died a hero into the bargain – or he did nothing and would be remembered for all eternity as the architect of the atrocity consuming the city below.
Valentine danced around the droid as another poorly-judged shot rang from its ceramic carapace. It would only be a matter of seconds before the approaching crewmen caught up with him.
And then he saw it. Forcing the blade into the cavity beneath the droid’s arm, he caught the bundle of hydraulic cabling against the edge of the sword and pulled down sharply. There was a pop followed by the hiss of fluid escaping and the droid’s huge right hand flexed open.
ONLY ONE HAND had opened but it was enough. Using the colossus’ other arm for leverage, Ulysses forced himself free, clenching his teeth in pain as the remaining vice-tight steel and ceramic claw scraped the skin from his back and chest.
With a clattering of cogs and gears, the golem powered up again and a rumbling roar rose from within the depths of its furnace heart.
Ulysses dared risk a glance up at the mechanical behemoth behind him. His first priority had to be to get out of reach of its still functioning left hand, and then stay out of reach.
“Come on!” he shouted at the Prime Minister. “This way!”
With Valentine close on his heels, Ulysses made for the nearest exit. He took the approaching crewmen by surprise as he ran straight towards them, intent on reaching the passageway before they thought to risk using firearms again.
It was now or never.
WITH TWO OF their supposed captives free, the crewmen holding Jack suddenly found their loyalties torn, not knowing whether to keep hold of their prisoner or aid in the re-capture of the two escapees.
The vigilante felt the pressure on his pinned arms ease, only ever so slightly but it was enough.
Tensing the muscles of both his arms, with a sudden jerk, Thomas pulled free of his guards’ grasp long enough to activate the spring-loaded opening mechanism of his cape.
The glider-wing extended forcibly behind him, unbalancing the two crewmen and pushing them away. Properly free at last, he made a grab for the trigger at his belt.
In one fluid motion he flipped the cover free and flicked the switch. The illuminated button beneath turned red. He hesitated for only a moment, listening to his pulse pounding inside his head; but it was only a moment.
He hit the button.
The first explosion sent a tremor through the control room, the faces of all those present contorting in shock and surprise. But it was only the first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Unfinished Business
ONE EXPLOSION AFTER another sent an ever-expanding shockwave rippling throughout the superstructure of the Jupiter Station. Detonations tore great holes in the glass and steel outer ring, sending diamond bright crystal shards spinning out into the storm, the tiny glass fragments reflecting back the bursts of light that flashed across the sky beneath the towering black thunderheads.
Where one mine failed to detonate, the flames from another explosion close by touched it off. The explosions produced by the mines themselves were not particularly large – punching holes in the metal skin of the Weather Station or destroying coupling brackets – but the secondary explosions they caused within fuel tanks, cavorite-shielded ballasts chambers and electrolytic power cells, were of another magnitude altogether. As the fuel supply for the station’s huge turbine fans lit off, a sheet of flame erupted from the Jupiter, blasting a hundred feet into the storm-wracked sky.
Chemical residue boiled away in burning clouds of noxious green vapour. Antennae sheared off and the esoteric machineries needed for weather control shutdown as a wave of fire swept across the top of the Hub. But in actuality it was the Hub and the control room itself that got off most lightly. The vigilante had not planted any of his magnet mines on that part of the structure and so it only suffered superficial damage as pieces of twisted metal and spears of glass whickered through the air over the top of the central section of the huge Weather Station.
Finally the explosions ceased leaving only a few pernicious fires burning within the superstructure, a shower of silvery droplets rising from the cavorite ballast tanks housed in one devastated section of the outer ring.
The Jupiter had stopped spinning now, and was listing badly to one side where the eruption of the fuel tanks had destroyed a good sixth of the torus, exposing the end of one curving passageway to the raging elements.
Wind and rain rushed into the ragged opening, the howling gale screaming through the inter-linking passageways all the way to the Hub and into the control room.
ULYSSES COULD HEAR distant screams over the shrieking vortex whirling around the chamber. They were coming from the nearest intact passageway leading back to the ruined outer ring of the station. The screams were underscored by the arrhythmic drumming of glass and metal rattling and spanging off the panoramic windows of Weather Control as flying debris from other parts of the vessel struck it.
On board the bridge of the Jupiter all was chaos.
The scene inside the control room, as the first of Spring-Heeled Jack’s magnet mines detonated, had seen the glazed golem powering after Ulysses and Valentine as they fled, the dandy’s rapier still clutched tightly in the Prime Minister’s hands, the two crewmen the vigilante had sent reeling still trying to recover themselves as Jack leapt from the walkway, wings outstretched. Valentine’s former guard still crawled about on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his shattered nose, while Uriah Wormwood issued orders in a panic, Kitty Hawke watching the progress of the escapees intently, her pistol trained on the swooping vigilante, as the technical team tried to remain focused on the task of maintaining the Jupiter’s place within the eye of the storm.
But as the wave of explosions continued, the whole structure of the Weather Station shook, sending those at their posts staggering, while those running stumbled and, i
n some cases, went sprawling onto the deck.
A crewman pursuing the escapees screamed as he landed awkwardly on the hard grille, his grunt becoming an agonised screech of pain as the golem crushed his spine beneath one huge iron-shod foot. The man’s cry was abruptly cut off as the crushing weight of the two-ton automaton pulped flesh and bone, severing the wretched man’s body in two.
Another explosion shook the Jupiter and the station lurched again. Ulysses suddenly found himself trying to run in mid-air, falling onto the circling gangway. Valentine somersaulted past him, tumbling through the space beneath a handrail, crash-landing hard on the grilled deck of the bridge below.
Ulysses caught sight of another crewman closing the distance between them, coming around the side of the chamber along the balcony walkway. And he could hear the crashing steps of the golem closing from behind.
At that moment, Ulysses’ world tilted through forty-five degrees. As he started sliding backwards, he flung out an arm, the fingers of his right hand closing round the stanchion of a handrail. The approaching crewman suddenly found himself running down a steep incline, lost his footing and went sailing past Ulysses, wailing in shock. A resounding clang behind him told him that, thankfully, the golem had also been sent hurtling backwards to land against the panoramic window.
Still clinging to the metal pole by one hand, Ulysses pushed himself onto his back and looked down at the sprawled bodies lying under the two-ton mass of the golem, the crushing weight of the automaton trapping them against the reinforced glass and steel.
He saw a twitching arm and leg and part of a white lab coat, and knew that Wormwood’s pet scientist wouldn’t be helping anyone anymore. Another crewman lay trapped by the brute monster, both legs crushed beneath its ceramic and steel body.
Halfway between Ulysses and the incapacitated bridge crew, the pilot still clung to the ship’s wheel, although it was apparent that its movements were no longer affecting the course of the Jupiter.
Through the panoramic window, Ulysses could see the greasy mass of the Smog rising to meet the craft while, through the windows above, it was clear that with nothing binding them to the Weather Station any more, the looming thunderheads were dissolving into wisps of grey, the storm dissipating.
There could be no doubt now that the Jupiter was losing height.
Wormwood and his deadly accomplice were both clinging to the command chair, Kitty obviously unsure whether to try to stop Ulysses escaping or ensure that she and Wormwood made it off the bridge safely.
Lying slumped over one of the cogitator banks of a control console was Devlin Valentine, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead. Mercifully, Ulysses’ precious sword-cane was still in his hands.
“Prime Minister!” Ulysses called over the creaks and groans of the disintegrating platform. “Can you hear me?”
Slowly Valentine raised his head. He looked up at Ulysses with half-closed eyes. He blinked, managing to focus at last on the dangling dandy.
“Are you all right?” Ulysses called down to him.
“I’m all right,” Valentine said. He sounded drunk, as he slurred his words.
“I’ll come down.”
“No, no. I’m all right. I’ll come up.” With that, using whatever jutting protuberances came to hand, Valentine started pulling himself up the tilted floor towards the nearest set of cantilevered steps.
“Quicksilver!” a booming voice shouted. It was Spring-Heeled Jack. He was leaning out from the entrance to the access tunnel. “Come this way!”
Ulysses scrambled up the incline of the balcony until he was within reach of Jack’s outstretched hand, the vigilante pulling him up the rest of the way.
Below them, Ulysses was aware of Wormwood struggling to cross the flight deck to another access tunnel, Kitty Hawke aiding the old man whilst still casting wary glances back to check on Ulysses’ progress, while Valentine had made it to the bottom of the tilted staircase.
And then Ulysses caught the look in Kitty’s eye and knew that her priorities had changed. Then the pistol was in her hand as she supported herself against a swivel chair, bolted to the floor in front of one of the control consoles.
Spring-Heeled Jack saw it too. “Look out!” he shouted, as he pulled Ulysses into the entrance to the tilted passageway. He then turned his back on the woman, shielding Ulysses with his own body. There was the crack of the pistol shot and Ulysses fancied he heard a dull metal thud.
Spring-Heeled Jack didn’t move.
“Are you all right?” Ulysses gasped, staring at his protector in disbelief.
“I’m fine,” Jack answered, his voice an emotionless monotone. “I’m like a cat, me. I’ve got nine lives, although I suppose I’ve used two of them up in the space of less than half an hour. They should call me the Black Cat.”
“I think Spring-Heeled Jack suits you better. Now move out of the way.”
“What are you planning to do?” Then Jack saw the gun in Ulysses’ hand. “Oh, I see.”
Ulysses took aim. The bitch was in his sights. She had tried to kill him once before and now it was time for payback.
Ulysses squeezed the trigger.
With a deafening shriek of rending metal, the bridge lurched again, briefly righting itself before tipping to one side. Ulysses stumbled backwards as he fought to keep his balance and the shot went wide, hitting a metal strut in the roof and ricocheting off.
He saw his target duck. But the continued collapse of the station had aided Wormwood and Kitty’s escape, the cantilevered floor sending them skidding and sliding towards their exit as Ulysses and Jack clung onto the swaying structure.
For a moment, Ulysses looked like he was going to follow them. But then the decision was taken out of his hands. With a twisting groan of buckling metal, one of the ceiling beams came crashing down across the entrance to the tunnel, barring their way and preventing Ulysses from going after the megalomaniac and his aide.
With a clanging crash another girder came down as the Weather Station continued to shake itself apart, this time barely missing the stumbling Valentine as it landed only a matter of a few feet behind him. But the Prime Minister was on his feet again in a second, hauling himself up the iron staircase using both handrails. In a moment he had caught up to them.
“This way!” Ulysses called to the dishevelled Prime Minister, before setting off after the vigilante.
“Where are the dignitaries?” Ulysses panted as they ran.
“They’re safe,” the vigilante said.
“Are you sure about that?”
“They’re all contained within the outer viewing gallery. I saw them there before I was captured.”
“We have to get them out of here!” Ulysses said. “I don’t believe that a place like this wouldn’t have escape pods or dirigible lifeboats. You have to get the dignitaries off the Jupiter. Do you think you can do that?”
“Leave it to me. I doubt I’ll meet much resistance, not now. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going after the bastard responsible for all this!”
The floor shook beneath them and Ulysses’ words were drowned out by the clattering of another girder coming down across the entrance to Weather Control, the access tunnel itself buckling.
Ulysses looked round in horror. That last girder had come down between them and the Prime Minister, blocking Valentine’s escape route.
“Come on!” Jack shouted over the clamour of the disintegrating craft. “There’s nothing you can do for him now!”
“Just watch me,” Ulysses said, fiery determination in his voice. And then he hesitated for a moment. “Have you got any more of those fireworks of yours?”
Jack pressed a button on a dispenser on his utility belt. A single, hemi-spherical magnet mine dropped into his hand.
“I’m almost out, but take this one.”
“Wish me luck,” Ulysses said, curling his fingers around the explosive device.
“Good luck,” the vigilante said darkly and then turned ou
t of the end of the passageway, heading for the viewing gallery and the beleaguered VIPs.
Ulysses sprinted back the way they had just come until he stood before the fallen girder, peering through the latticework of its structure, trying to see whether the Prime Minister was even still alive or how he was going to get through, all the while calling Valentine’s name.
Ulysses put his shoulder to the beam and pushed but, as he had already suspected, to no avail. The steel was well and truly wedged. The only thing that was going to move it now was the magnet mine. Even then, he would have to make sure that he put it in just the right place.
Propping himself against one tilting wall, his mind working feverishly, Ulysses tried to work out precisely where he should position the explosive device.
With a scream of metal grating against metal, the girder heaved sideways and Ulysses took a shocked step backwards, fearing for a moment that the Hub had suffered some catastrophic damage and was about to plummet to the ground.
But it was worse than that he realised as a bolt of prescient pain seared straight through his skull.
The beam suddenly screeched to one side.
Cold dread gripped his body as Ulysses Quicksilver came face to face with the unstoppable juggernaut powerhouse that was the Limehouse Golem, one last time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Wormwood Falling
THE MASSIVE DROID reached for Ulysses with its one working arm. Ulysses dodged sideways, throwing himself against the splintering mahogany panelling of the crumpled corridor. The monstrous automaton pulled back before trying again. Ulysses was forced to leap backwards as the golem smashed its wrecking-ball-sized fist to left and right within the mouth of the tunnel, and then took a step further into the passageway.
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