Clockwork Memories

by Sarina Dorie

  Do not trust favors if they come from an enemy.

  —French proverb

  I stared at my dearest friend in horror. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  She nodded. “We will discuss that later. Presently, trust me about Jacque-san.” She glared at him. “He isn’t to be trusted. He’s lied to us once and he’ll lie to us again.”

  “Can you not see, Mademoiselle Sumiko, I am trying to keep you alive? It is in your best interest to play nice.” His eye narrowed and I read a warning there.

  Sumiko stepped closer and spit in his face. “Don’t threaten me, you filthy gaijin!”

  My eyes widened in surprise as much at her actions as her words. I’d never heard her use the derogatory name for “off-worlder,” possibly out of respect for me being one.

  Jacques took out his handkerchief and calmly wiped his cheek. She used that distraction to hook her foot under a leg of broken chair. With trained accuracy, she kicked it up into the air so that she could grab it.

  Sumiko’s words came out in a rush. “Faith-chan, get the pistol.”

  I dove for it, but he intercepted the dresser with one swift step. Blast him and his long legs!

  Sumiko’s voice rose in anger, something I rarely heard. “He promised to help protect the planet in exchange for diamonds. He promised to kill Lord Klark. You only don’t know about this because he stole—”

  Jacques turned away from me and toward Sumiko. He lifted his metal eyepatch and directed his gaze at my friend. From the angle behind him I couldn’t see what Sumiko saw, only a red glow. She raised her hands to shield her face and screamed. It was so bright I had to squint to see. Her knees buckled. He snapped the bionic eyepatch closed and caught Sumiko before she fell. The light faded away.

  I blinked away the spots from my vision.

  I lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm. “Unhand her this instant.”

  “If I do as you bid, I will drop your friend to the floor, no? Hardly a gentlemanly gesture. I would rather place her somewhere safe to sleep off her fainting spell.”

  At his belt was a pistol. I drew it and aimed it at his face.

  “I said unhand her.”

  He snorted in exasperation and strode toward the door. I pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. It didn’t even budge. I tried again, but nothing. Either I didn’t know how to use a pistol, or there was some trick to this gun.

  In the time it took me to examine the weapon, Jacques had strode past me and out the door. The door swished closed behind him. When I tried to follow, it wouldn’t open. It appeared to be locked. His laugh echoed from the other side.

  Blast that man! I threw the gun down. After a few seconds of seeing nothing more helpful in the room, I picked up the gun again and examined it more closely. The handle was decorated with intricate patterns of flowers and spirals. It was prettier than the dueling pistol I had seen Meriwether use in his memory. I thought back to where on the handle the almost invisible button had been. I smoothed my thumb over the surface, but nothing popped out. I tucked it into my waistband. If I was lucky, I might figure it out later.

  I paced my room, my anxiousness rising. My stomach flip-flopped when I thought of what might become of Sumiko. After the earlier incident with the soldiers attacking us, I hated to imagine the deeds they might commit upon an unconscious woman.

  I spotted the other pistol on the nightstand. He hadn’t taken it! I snatched it up. I had to hide it somewhere safe, if only to keep someone else from finding it and using it later. My blouse contained no pockets, nor was it loose enough to conceal a weapon. If I tucked it into my waistband it would be out in the open like the other one, which mattered little since he knew I had that one.

  This gun was lighter and smaller, which meant it would be easier to conceal. It looked much like Lord Klark’s pistol that I’d seen in Meriwether’s memories of the duel. I smoothed my finger over the bottom of the grip. A metal button popped from the smooth surface. I took aim at the broken bench on the floor and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  That infuriating man was right! I didn’t know how to use a pistol. I closed my eyes and tried to picture Meriwether’s memory. For the first time I was glad he had shown me experiences from his own life rather than returning all of my own.

  The door swished open.

  I pointed the gun at Jacques’ good eye.

  He shook his head at me. “Mon Dieu! We both know you don’t know how to use that. Put it away. If you are a good girl, I might show you how to shoot me later.”

  “Where’s my friend?”

  “She’s not a very good friend if she’s been keeping secrets from you. N’est-ce pas?” His smile was predatory. He reminded me of a chiramantep beast, so friendly and cute—until they decided to eat you.

  I’d heard the start of what Sumiko had said. He’d made a deal with her to kill Lord Klark and provide arms. He’d stolen . . . what? If only Sumiko had been able to get out a few more words.

  I lifted my chin. “I’d like to think that if Sumiko has kept a secret from me she had a good reason. And if you interrupted her from telling me what it was, then that gives me all the more reason to distrust you.”

  His eyebrows rose, his visage one of mock innocence. “You injure me, Mademoiselle Earnshaw.”

  “What did you do with Sumiko?” Having little else to aid me, I threw the pistol at his head.

  My aim was rather pitiful. It was nearly two feet off, and he didn’t even have to duck out of the way. Perhaps my aim with the pitcher had been a fluke, considering I hadn’t trained to throw spears as Sumiko had.

  Jacques chuckled. “Ah you are passionnée! I should not laugh, but I cannot help it. You are so spirited, it is adorable, no?”

  I didn’t know what irritated me more, that he looked down on me for being a woman who couldn’t defend herself—or because I was a woman who couldn’t defend herself.

  “Ma chérie, let me first relieve your fears. Mademoiselle Sumiko is asleep in one of the furnished rooms next to yours.” He waved a dismissive hand to his right. I wondered if she was in the room to the immediate right. That was Meriwether’s room. His was one of the few furnished rooms after what the Tanukijin villagers had carried off. “She will remain there to rest unmolested until I retrieve her. Does that satisfy you?”

  I nodded and sagged against the bed in relief. She was safe for the time being at least.

  His lips tugged upward into a devious smile. “But of course her situation might change if you remain stubborn-headed and how do you say. . . ? Remain uncooperative.”

  My face drained of warmth.

  “Oui, of course. How did I know she is your weakness? I see how you look at each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The two of you are lovers, no?”

  I choked on a laugh. He couldn’t be serious. “No! What a preposterous idea.”

  “There is no need to conceal such things from me. I do not judge those who indulge in clandestine romance. The idea of sisterly love does not make me squeamish, nor would a ménage à trois.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  I shook my head. I had never heard this French phrase, but I understood he meant something rakish and ungentlemanly. Had any other man suggested such a thing I might have kicked him in the shin. Yet with Jacques, I couldn’t help laughing. He was a sly one if he could disarm with his charm so smoothly. Sumiko had warned me plenty of times that beauty was my greatest weakness, and Meriwether’s pretty face would be my undoing.

  Jacques had a different kind of beauty—not so perfect one could only blame the muse of scientific eugenics for his winsome features. This Frenchman was handsome, yet imperfect with his eyepatch, and I supposed that juxtaposition appealed to me since I, too, was imperfect. His visage was the dark beauty of a fallen angel, an alluring danger that threatened to suck me in with devastating consequences. Jacques must have been quite convincing if the most pragmatic person I knew had surrendered to him. I would have to be ev
er vigilant.

  “Am I mistaken? You two are not lovers. Hmm. On to business then.” He plopped down onto the bed beside me.

  I slid farther from his reach.

  “The only reason I have been unable to fulfil my end of the contract has been because I was detained by duties aboard this ship. The Napoléon has been called away to destroy no less than three British vessels that were patrolling the area in the last week alone. Once we return to Planet 157, we will be able to smuggle weapons to the appointed destination.”

  I listened to this, my mind whirling. “Why are you telling me this and not Sumiko? Isn’t she your contact?”

  He snorted. “I tire of Mademoiselle Sumiko. She can be so unreasonable. Besides, there is little else I have that she wants. With you, I suspect I might be able to strike up a new bargain. In exchange for any favors I provide, you will provide me with the other half of the diamonds.”

  “I thought Sumiko said she’d already paid you. It would be logical to withhold further payment until you’ve finished the job.” That and I had no idea where Meriwether had stashed the diamonds onboard the ship.

  “Sacré bleu!” He barked out a few words I didn’t know the meaning of in French—nor did I suspect I wanted to know the meaning of—before bowing and straightening. “Pardon my French. Mademoiselle Sumiko has poisoned you against me.”

  I crossed my arms.

  “Very well, diamonds for weapons can wait. What you might be interested to know is that I’ve rendered a small service on your behalf, which you’ll wish to thank me for. In fact, you’ll be so pleased you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.” He smiled smugly to himself. I was beginning to think that was the natural state of his face.

  “Lord Klark’s son is out of the way. Consider it a personal favor from me to you.” He stood and bowed.

  My heart clenched. “What do you mean, ‘out of the way’?” I asked. Now that I had decided I loved my fiancé, perhaps even trusted him, the idea that he might be dead was intolerable.

  “Is this not what you wanted, Mademoiselle Earnshaw? For your enemies to die? After I heard of your plight, I did this for you.” He took up my hand and kissed it.

  Is that what Sumiko had told him? If she had, it surely would have been before I’d known Meriwether.

  I tugged my hand back. “He can’t be dead.”

  “Chérie, did you actually think he would escape? This is his father’s vessel. We knew him to be here from the beginning. We hoped to take him alive, but alas, it was not in our stars. I will happily show you the body.”

  I didn’t know if I could bear to look upon Meriwether if he was dead, but I had to know.

  I stood. “Yes, I wish you to take me to see Meriwether Klark’s body.”

  “But the blood! Surely for a lady such as yourself, it would not be decent to see the viscera and carnage.”

  I said through clenched teeth. “I insist.”

  Jacques threw up his hands in defeat. “As you wish. On to the blood and carnage.”

  Chapter Six

  It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve; all bad things are very easy to get.

  —Ancient Jomon Proverb

  I tried to mentally prepare myself for what I’d do once the evidence was irrefutable and I knew the man who loved me to be dead. It hardly seemed fair that just when I realized my fiancé wasn’t a buffoon that I should be told he’d met an untimely end.

  Guards were posted in the hallway outside my quarters. One nodded to their commanding officer. Jacques led me past them to the medical room within the Absinthe. A sticky puddle of drying blood stained the metal floor.

  Jacques looked around. “Sacré bleu!” He uttered other curses in his native tongue, then looked to me. “Pardon my language, yet again. The body was here but an hour ago.”

  I crossed my arms. “Could it be that he isn’t truly dead, and you just wish me to believe he is?” I did the best to keep the hope out of my tone.

  “It is a mistake. Surely his body has been misplaced.”

  “Misplaced?” If we weren’t speaking about a cadaver—about a man I’d been intimate with the night before—I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

  He took out a handheld comm box from his belt and spoke into it. His words were so quick and so peppered with what I suspected to be curses, it was difficult to follow. The reply that came crackled with static. After another exchange he nodded to me. “I beg your pardon. We must go to the cargo bay of the Absinthe. It seems the bodies were being disposed of.”

  The cargo bay stank of the acrid odor of animal feces and urine. Mingled with that was a sickly sweet scent I recognized as blood. I covered my nose with my sleeve. Already I could tell this task would be a challenge.

  “This way,” Jacques said.

  The tanuki were penned up in cages. The purple and green striped raccoon dogs paced their crates in anxiety, not being used to such confines after freedom in the wild. Nose birds flitted about in cages lined with flowers. Their wings made little womp womp womp noises as they stirred. We passed a glass case with tree snails. They chittered as we neared.

  When Jacques had said the bodies were being disposed of, I had no idea he meant being fed to the chiramanteps. On the other side of the caged enclosure, one of the blue bear-like creatures tore into a man with his tusks. Crimson stained the animal’s fur and smeared against the floor. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the man was naked, the man didn’t have a head.

  The horror of it was too much. I gasped and turned away. My stomach flip-flopped and I felt as though I might retch.

  “As I said, not a pleasant sight for a lady.”

  I had to be strong. I forced myself to turn back. The sanguine puddle could be a spill of red paint. The vivid blue of the chiramantep fur a splash of sky on my paintbrush. This scene was no more than a painting with cheery splashes of color. I looked at the tableau with an artist’s scrutiny, using the mental lens I might employ when observing the angle of a table or the curve of a cast shadow.

  My breathing slowed. I saw without seeing. The man’s build was too slight to be Meriwether and the hair on his chest too dark. I broke from the spell of observation.

  “That isn’t Meriwether Klark,” I said. “You said there were bodies. Plural. Who were the others? Where are they?”

  As if in answer, one of the other chiramanteps belched.

  Jacques pointed to the other side of the chiramantep pen. “Two French soldiers were killed by laser wound when your captain shot them. We disposed of them here. So considerate of us to see to your animals needs, no?”

  Why they wouldn’t expel the bodies from an airlock instead baffled me. Then again, perhaps the French were as pragmatic as the Jomon, and refused to waste potential animal feed. Though the reason why they would bother with our animals signaled Jacques surely understood enough of the biology of the chiramanteps and how they could be used to create red diamonds.

  “Excuse me a moment,” I said.

  I hastened to the nose bird cage and plucked up two red flowers growing within. I rubbed the purple pollen over my fingers from the first flower and joined Jacques again, holding the second. It was dangerous to interrupt a chiramantep while it was feeding. Their blood lust often drove them into a wild feeding frenzy. But I’d had eighteen years of experience riding chiramanteps and getting acquainted with their dispositions. If I was lucky, I’d learned enough to know what to expect from their temperaments.

  I unlocked the cage door. Jacques placed a hand on my shoulder. “It isn’t safe for a lady to go within.” He drew a pistol from his boot. It was tiny compared to his other gun.

  I shook my head. “I know what I’m doing in this matter. You do not. Remain here.”

  It gave me some pride to say it. My accomplishments were few, and I suspected the usefulness of my knowledge was pitifully small in most matters. I only hoped I truly did know what I was doing.


  I moved slowly, making no sudden sounds. My heart beat wildly. Purple pollen shook from the flower I still held in my hand. Though the flower had a mild scent to humans, it was a fragrant ambrosia to chiramanteps. You could get them to do nearly anything by bribing them with it. Though, I didn’t know if I could use the flower to get them to stop gorging themselves on their human dinner.

  I skirted around the closest animal feeding, and it paid me no mind. Two smaller chiramanteps fought over a body. They butted each other in the head and snapped at each other. When one made to bite at the man’s leg, the other tugged the body away. After another lunge, the body was wrenched from the first chiramantep’s mouth. I looked away when they tore the cadaver in half. From the tattoo on the man’s arm, I knew this wasn’t Meriwether.

  The body farthest back was face down. I took a steadying breath and tried to sink back into that trance-like state I experienced when creating a painting. Bloody smudges and what I presumed to be tongue marks were smeared across his back. Intestines were wrapped around the chiramantep’s tusks. She lifted her head to try to bite the length of entrails, but this of course lifted her target higher. She dipped her head down and tried to shake herself free, but the entrails were too tangled. Bile rose up in my throat. I swallowed it.

  I clucked my tongue at her. She froze. I shook one of the flowers, not that I had to shake it much. My hands were already trembling. Usually the Tanukijin tribe used flowers for taming upwind so the scent of pollen drifted downwind to the chiramanteps. The large beast stomped a claw-covered foot and raked it against the metal floor. I held out my hand, colored purple with the pollen. The chiramantep sniffed the air and licked her muzzle.

  She stepped closer. She dragged the body with her, the intestines still tangled in her tusks.

  I could see now the man had golden brown hair, though much of it was stained red with blood. My stomach flip-flopped. I had skinned and cleaned plenty of animals with the Tanukijin. This man was just an empty shell, an animal without hair, I told myself. The chiramantep snuffled my hand and licked. I petted her fuzzy blue face, avoiding the ridge of horns on her brows and protruding incisors.