Ghost in the Machine (Steam and Cyber Series Book 1)

by SJ Davis

“Be still, I know exactly what I am doing. I am an expert in trepanation.” He smiled down at Nico. “Maybe I am not your enemy. Perhaps I’m giving you freedom.” He held up a small and flattened circular chip. He held it up on his thumb and flicked the chip towards a side street. A faint ringing sound echoed as it fell and rolled away. “Now you give me what I want and we are both happy.”

  Nico’s head spun. His senses retreated from the present; his eyes saw only gray shadows and his ears heard only static cracks. His nervous system buzzed as he raised himself up on one elbow. Quickly rolling back over, he sank bank to the brick alley with a throbbing head, his neck felt thick with blood.

  “What do you want?” moaned Nico, about to give up.

  “It’s so simple, Nico.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a toothpick. He sucked at his teeth and a faint smell of cinnamon filled the air. “I want the Tabulator.”

  “Right,” smiled Nico. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spat out a thick wad of blood.

  Nico received another hard kick in his ribs. He couldn’t feel them anymore unless he breathed in deeply. “It’s easy, Nico. You don’t even have to give it to me yourself. Just tell me where it is and all of this is over for you.” Nico couldn’t lift his leg as he tried to move away. “You aren’t a thief. The Tabulator needs to be returned to its rightful owner, don’t you agree?”

  “Maybe,” answered Nico, looking into the dark indigo sky. “In good time.”

  “Don’t be difficult with me, or I’ll put that god damned chip right back into your head.”

  As the man spit out his toothpick, Nico squinted up at him. The fuzzy edges of the man’s outlines became focused and sharper. Nico laughed. Nothing hurt anymore. “Tran,” he whispered.

  Tran looked at him harshly. “You don’t know me,” he sneered. “And if you think you do, you need to forget.”

  “Sure.” Nico’s ears were ringing. “Whatever.”

  “Where is it?”

  “It might be in a different time, Tranny. Remember?”

  “I don’t think it is. My point of contact indicated otherwise.”

  “Your point of contact doesn’t know shit.”

  “Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe I need another contact. Maybe I’ll chip one of your new friends to find out what I need to know. Easy enough for me.”

  Tran picked up the chip he had thrown and tossed it on Nico’s stomach.

  “Tran,” Nico repeated. “Thank you.” He fingered the outline of Tran’s name on the street slowly in his own blood. He watched the trails of red blur in the rain. “Your feet are small,” he laughed, as he fell into unconsciousness.

  London

  June 23rd 1865

  “Come on,” Bodhi grabbed Caroline. “The bombs are working. Josephine almost finished destroying the machine’s front line.”

  “How do you know?” asked Caroline. “How can you see anything through the smoke and fire?” She covered her ears. “It’s so loud!”

  “Put your goggles on and adjust the levers,” he shouted back to her over the din of detonated metals. “Use this sound reduction ear set, also. If we can destroy these guards, we have a chance of getting the engine.”

  Caroline spun the small copper cogs on the sides of the goggles and adjusted the refraction of the light. She put her hand to her mouth as she peered over the dark field popping with bright lights. “The explosive debris! Josephine is certain to be injured or maimed by all this shrapnel.”

  “Pass me the ear set.” Bodhi adjusted his goggles and tightened his bootlaces. “I’m off to locate her immediately.”

  “Wait! You can’t leave me here! Wait!” Caroline yelled.

  Bodhi wedged the remaining hand bombs in his pockets. “I hope these stay secure,” he muttered awkwardly. “You hold the ray guns. Attach them to the inside lining of your coat.”

  Caroline fumbled with the guns. She ripped the inside satin lining of her coat to latch on the ray guns. “I have room in my pockets, Bodhi. Give me some bombs.”

  “These will blow you to bits if you disengage the pin at the top. Be very gentle with them and for God’s sake, don’t trip when you run. Watch your every step.”

  “Stop scaring me, Bodhi. I will save the explosives for the rest of these tin cans.”

  “Okay. Are you ready? You have two bombs in each pocket for a total of four. Use your ray gun to disable the automatons first. Use the bombs as a last resort.”

  “Got it.”

  “And don’t fiddle about with them. Gently reach in your pocket, put the end of the pin in your mouth and pull. Throw each as quickly and as far as you can!”

  “Yes, Bodhi. I’m not stupid.”

  “Of course not. But you don’t do this every day now, do you?” he shot back.

  “Well, I am certainly happy to let you go first. I’ll follow.”

  “Let’s move to the zeppelin. Any remaining machines will seek the largest foreign object, right?”

  “I suppose that would be a reasonable assumption. But I think we should stay at the barn. We can lure them to us.”

  “We don’t need to lure them, they are just ahead. Crouch down!”

  Behind them, the sound of leaves being crushed came closer. “Josephine!” said Bodhi. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “Keep down and be quiet,” Josephine whispered. “We can exchange pleasantries later.”

  “What happened?” asked Caroline.

  “I tossed out all my bombs. Most of the automatons are in pieces now. But there are still a few more following me. Not many, though. Maybe ten. If we can disable them we can search the professor’s house.”

  “Where is the professor?” asked Caroline.

  “I have him secured in his zeppelin, said Josephine. “He won’t be out for a while.”

  “Open the doors to the barn. I’m going inside,” said Bodhi. “When they follow me inside, close the doors behind them.”

  “Why?” asked Caroline.

  “To trap them all at once!” he yelled back.

  “How will you get out?” asked a wide-eyed Caroline.

  “Don’t worry, I will. Just do as I say.”

  Bodhi entered the barn with the smell of tarnished and burnt metal behind him. Caroline and Josephine hid behind the opened doors of the barn while Bodhi nestled in some hay. One by one, the automatons entered the barn. First making a straight line to the back, then circling about the middle area.

  “Now!” shouted Bodhi and the girls ran, pushing the doors closed.

  “What do we do about Bodhi?” asked a panicking Caroline.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine,” said Josephine. “He can outsmart the machines.”

  The automatons banged against the door and walls, running into each other like blind mice.

  “Empty your pockets, pull the pins one at a time! As soon as you pull the pin, throw the bomb inside the barn! Can you hear me,” yelled Josephine as she shook Caroline’s shoulders.

  “What about Bodhi? I can’t do it,” Caroline yelled, frozen in fear.

  “Do it!” forced Josephine. “Or give them to me. We’re wasting time!”

  Bodhi jumped to the window ledge. From his vantage point he could see inside Anson’s house. Anson’s desk was lit by of a pool of light cast by a brass lamp with a square shade of amber glass. Tall drawered cabinets stood along side the fireplace, made of a deep mahogany wood. The desktop was littered with scrolls of paper and disassembled clockwork parts. Lying on the ground, a wooden swivel chair had been pushed to the side and knocked over. Suddenly, Bodhi was exhausted. He felt slow. Lines of fatigue were etched along the sides of his eyes and he hadn’t shaved in two days. His muscles ached from exertion.

  Bodhi looked down at the machines as he threw the grenades.

  “Damn,” he said aloud, to no one but himself. Taking his belt and coat, he fashioned a looped rope and jumped to the window. Kicking out the window, he fell to the ground outside. His spine
felt like it shifted as he landed. His knees buckled to the sides and he vomited. Kneeling, he placed his head upon the cool grass as the sky lit up from the barn’s explosion.

  “I’m going to be sick,” he whispered as he turned his head to retch once again. He stared across the shallow creek into Anson’s well-lit office.

  “Get me up,” he groaned as Caroline ran over with Josephine behind her.

  “No. You shouldn’t walk. You’ve had quite a fall. Be still.” Caroline’s attempts to calm him were ineffective as he pushed himself into a shaky sitting position. He fell back sideways onto one elbow. He shifted back to the ground.

  “You are reasoning with a mule,” said Josephine. “If we don’t help him, he’ll drag himself to the house by his hands until he is nothing but a bloody stump of a man.” She knelt next to him and smiled. “Nice job, showoff. You got out of there by the skin of your teeth.”

  “By the way, your injuries won’t outdo mine. I won’t have it,” she joked as she fell backwards. Caroline and Bodhi looked at her. Josephine pushed back her damp hair and looked at the wet red streaks on her skirts.

  “Where? Where were you injured?” asked Caroline, untangling Josephine’s legs and straightening them in front.

  Caroline gently lifted the right side of Josephine’s skirt and opened the laces of her boot. The front of Josephine’s shinbone was exposed, looking like polished china under the torn skin.

  “Oh dear, I hope I don’t faint,” said Caroline as she sat down and ripped off her goggles. “I could use a brown stout to steady me.” Quickly Caroline ripped the lining from her coat and folded it into a triangular bandage. “Why not?” she added, “it’s a fortifying drink!” Josephine watched as Caroline peeled back her dress and wrapped her leg, returning the edges of her skin back together and tying the bandage across her lower leg.

  “Let’s find a secure place,” said Bodhi. “Can you walk?”

  “Lean on me,” Caroline ordered Josephine.

  “You,” Josephine pointed to Bodhi, “are on your own.”

  “I can make into to Anson’s house,” he said.

  Running through the darkness to the house, Josephine leaned on Caroline while Bodhi walked slowly behind them. “My bandage is slipping,” moaned Josephine. “It feels like my leg is on fire.”

  “Hold on. We are almost there.”

  All three of them came to the cellar door in the back of the house and stood still. Bodhi placed his ear on the door. “I can hear something.”

  “Let’s go in and get on with it,” said Josephine, her face twisted in pain.

  “Fine. Here we go.” Bodhi kicked the door hard with his shoe. At the second attempt, automatic guns from inside the cellar shot through the door. They moved to the side of the door, pressing their backs against the brick walls. Bodhi tossed a gas-diffusing smoke bomb inside the house to fog the automata’s visual circuits. “Put on your goggles again, and be as quiet as possible. We will zig zag through while the smoke is still thick and clogging their motion sensors.”

  “One, two, three, go!” shouted Bodhi. They burst through the door and rushed inside.

  Professor Anson’s study was within sight. They ran uneventfully up the stairs to gain entrance to the main floor. Josephine collapsed on the chair, exhausted. Starting to shiver, she felt hot and feverish. Bodhi locked the door behind them.

  “She needs a doctor,” warned Caroline.

  “What kind of doctor won’t ask her any questions? A missile has grazed her leg! Any doctor will ask questions! And finding a reputable doctor who would agree to keep it unreported could be complicated.”’

  “Maybe my father knows someone discreet,” thought Caroline. “Although I don’t know how I’d make confidential inquiries.”

  “No. We cannot involve anyone with political connections. It’s too risky,” said Bodhi.

  “Don’t be naïve. Politically connected doctors are required to practice the utmost discretion in occasionally difficult circumstances.”

  “No. Perhaps Madame Francesca could help us again,” suggested Bodhi.

  “Absolutely not. What is it with you and Francesca? I refuse to let a doctor who performs unsavory operations and treats sexual maladies to treat Josephine.”

  “Listen, Francesca’s doctors are well practiced in personal hygiene and sanitation, probably more than others. Jo’s wound needs cleaning and probable stitching, quickly too. She is at risk for infection.”

  Bodhi went to Anson’s fireplace and glanced back at the armchair and Josephine, her paleness struck him. Professor Anson’s house was an old place, medieval old, the walls cut from dark and ancient stone. As Josephine sat, blood dried and hardened around her wound, the center still leaked. “Perhaps we can clean and stitch it ourselves?” he asked.

  “No, Dr. Frankenstein. We will have it looked at by someone who knows anatomy,” insisted Caroline.

  Caroline breathed sharply as she heard a noise in the garden. “Get down, I heard something.” Caroline and Bodhi crawled to the window ledge. Bodhi attached a mirrored lens to see behind them into the night outside.

  “Nothing. Should we open the window and see what’s out there?”

  Geese slept in the gardens amidst the sound of boots crunching on frost-stiffened grass. Caroline stepped to the window. Squinting from the side of the frame, she looked out at a slouched figure: thin, dark overcoat, high strong shoulders, and an angular face beneath chin-length dark hair. He looked up into the window, exchanging a look of recognition with her. She walked behind the desk and turned on the light.

  Bodhi glared at her and indicated for her to turn the light off. “It’s Yeshua,” she mouthed silently and pointing at the window.

  “Should we let him in?” whispered Bodhi.

  “Of course. Right?” She shrugged.

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said Caroline. “He saw me look at him. He knows we are in here. Maybe he’s looking for Josephine. Or maybe the hard drive.”

  “What do we say about Nico?” asked Bodhi.

  “Nothing. We say no more than is necessary right now. We’ll tell him later.”

  Caroline opened the window and waved down at Yeshua, gesturing for him to come inside. Yeshua pulled himself over the ledge and found Josephine in a restless and damp sleep, completely unaware of anyone’s presence. Her body shivered. “What happened to her?” he said. “Why is she unconscious?”

  “Keep your voice down,” warned Caroline.

  “What happened to her?” he asked again.

  “For starters, Anson kidnapped her. Next, she fought an army of walking machines.” Caroline’s neck flushed an angry shade of red. “Then his army of automatons shot her in the leg, and finally we broke in here to locate the engine. Perhaps you’d like to do something now. Pitch in a little?”

  “I’ll take her with me.” Yeshua walked over to pick her up.

  “What? You can’t!” Bodhi protested. “That’s insane!”

  “She’s getting sicker. She could go into shock. I’ll get her the proper medical care that you can’t.”

  Caroline and Bodhi looked at each other. Yeshua squatted in front of Josephine, his hands rested on his thighs and he stared blankly into a curio cabinet. Behind a small group of black and white geometric forms, crystal cubes, and miniature pyramids, sat a small upright rectangular black box with four blinking lights, three attached wires and a port.

  “There’s the hard drive,” said Yeshua in quiet amazement. He climbed on a stool and gently pulled it down. “Bodhi, you take the hard drive. Hide it at Francesca’s. I’ll take Josephine.”

  Black Clinic

  December 2134

  The clinic was nameless but elegant. Unofficially known as a black clinic, the hospital was kept off the grid in a deregulated area. The lobby walls were papered and painted in a vibrant green. An elaborate marble mantle provided a centerpiece for the wall across from the Palladian window. Small formal gardens clustered un
der the outside columns.

  “What I always think about, Yeshua, is my own ass,” said Charley as he dropped them off in the circular drive.

  “So why are you helping us?” asked Yeshua.

  “Beats the shit out of me,” he said in his slow and amused Southern drawl. He rotated his head and massaged his neck before he drove away.

  Josephine’s head throbbed and the veins in her leg burned like tributaries of fire. Stepping out of Charley’s car, she was immediately shuttled into a wheelchair, her legs secured, and blanket put on her lap. She looked up into a vast vacuum of space; the hazy cool air conditioning in the room blew in her ears with tornado force. Static electricity furrowed into her every pore. She reached for Yeshua, but her arms felt like bars of iron at her sides.

  “Come on in, we’ve been expecting you,” a man in dressed in white came out to greet them, directing them further into the building’s depths. “It’s good you called ahead. We fill up quickly.”

  “She’s spiking.” Josephine’s pale skin was covered in sweat. “She’s diaphrenetic and her BP is elevated. We need to stabilize her,” said the medical assistant, looking down at Josephine as he wheeled her into a room. The man in white entered notes on a small touch screen attached to her wheelchair.

  “It’s okay, Josephine. You’re safe. You’re here so we can fix you right up,” said Yeshua.

  “Can you hear me?” asked the man in white.

  Josephine’s mouth was tried to form a word. She tried to get up to look at him, but Yeshua put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t try to talk.” Her head pounded as she was lifted into the hospital bed. Sharp beeps and alarms chopped through the room from bedside machines. She glanced down to see her legs exposed; Yeshua tucked the sheet more tightly around her. Looking up was nothing but lines of bright fluorescent lights beaming down at her.

  “Is everything here completely sterile and safe?” Yeshua asked the man in white as he plugged in more monitors. “And can you help her?”

  “Of course we’re sterile. And from what I see initially, there is nothing life threatening. Her leg and her external injuries require nothing but simple debriding and stitching. Maybe a bag of high dose IV antibacs. But they’ll be no records behind. Everything that happens will remain off the feed.” The man washed his hands in the sink and put on sterile gloves.