Dark Iron King II: Arcadia Falls (Unreal Universe Book 5)

by Lee Bond

  Dom froze where he was. He hadn’t even started moving. Had, in fact, only just that second begun to think about the act. As a Gearman, he’d been in this kind of situation before, only with Ironed-up gearheads so far past the point of foul that all rationale had fled long ago. In those situations, you learned how to martial your thoughts until the very last microsecond, moving only when you absolutely knew you had the upper hand.

  It was easy to see how Specter had managed to do for many powerful gearheads, if his senses were this keen!

  Chevy cast Dom a thoroughly disapproving look. “It doesn’t happen often, Dom, but we are at the disadvantage, here. As our kind host, Master … Nickels has yet to do for us nor show any true inkling of doing so, perhaps it is in our best interests to let him have his say? We can plan all manner of revenge and whatnot long after he’s gone. Isn’t that right, Master Nickels?”

  Garth laughed, tilting his head back. He nodded, saying, “I like you already Chevy. A lot.” He looked at Dom, who was sweating and licking his lips. “It’s like your partner says, Dom. I can do for you both right here and now, only that’ll deprive the goo… well, the not so bad citizens of Ickford, those who are neither gearhead nor Golem, from the slimmest of slim chances of survival. I’m going to put my gun away and we’re going to finish this conversation like fucking gentlemen, or I swear by Grabthar’s Hammer, I’ll suplex you off this roof. Deal?”

  Dom clenched his jaw. He supposed that Chevril was right. Up close and personal, Specter was a sight more dangerous than he’d ever imagined, and right that moment, the Book Club Regular regretted not staying up that night to watch him do for that King solo-style. The fine, interwoven mesh of gears and everything else that made up Specter’s hand-crafted armor was –for lack of a better word- magnificent.

  As humbling as it was to admit it, the armor alone put them at a distinct disadvantage. The weapons the man carried, more so.

  Dominic Pointillier nodded slowly, a tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying dissipating the moment Specter put the weapon away draining through his toes.

  Chevy clapped a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Now. No matter what they say, you’re from the Outside, yes? You’ve encountered these things before?”

  Garth wanted to ask who ‘they’ were, and why ‘they’ were saying anything about him at all, but this rooftop tete-a-tete had already gone on too long. Echolocation of the resurrected Gunboys’ eternal screaming had them just inside the walls. Sporadic gunfire popped through the city, indicating that the battle was finally met. “Yes and no. I know what they are, but I didn’t see them in action. I was unconscious.”

  Strangled laughter burst out of both Dom and Chevy. The Elder Gearman eyed Nickels up and down. “Something put you down?”

  “An extra-dimensional explosion of purest power brought on by the utter, soul-burning certainty that a four thousand year old God soldier was going to separate my gorgeous head from my muscularly handsome neck, yeah. Shit like that happens all the time, Outside. Ravening packs of maddened super soldiers and, like, planet-eating goats and shit. You all think it’s fucking crazy in here? Outside’s got you beat.” Garth jerked a thumb behind him. “Now, those impossible things are called Gunboys. They are, they were, Outside, genetically modified men grown to the size of giants and then stuffed full of tremendously dangerous weapons. Weapons with which they could conquer an entire solar system. No, I don’t have time to expla… think ‘Arcade City times a hundred million’.”

  Garth cleared his throat and resumed. “They can’t exist here because no one from here has ever been Outside and come back in. Not ever. I don’t rightly know how the Gunboys were done for on Hospitalis because like I said, I was busy having a well-deserved nap. They are a problem because if they are actual Gunboys, they’re not like anything anyone has ever fucking seen before. None of the skills you have will matter! They were designed to conquer whole planets before tea time. From what I understand of the woman who allowed them to be created, her goal was to conquer the entire fucking Universe, and that is a concept beyond you both.” Garth knew he sounded like a complete dick, but he was battling some pretty serious speed bumps.

  Unable to take his eyes off Book, Dom thrust his chin out. “We know about the Outside, mate, we talk to them as come in. We know about planets and solar systems and all that.”

  “But you can’t possibly … Look.” Garth sighed, banged a fist against his forehead irritably, and changed direction. He could fucking argue what the two men in front of him did and did not know until the damn cows came home. He pointed a finger at Dominic, who flinched as though he’d expected some kind of laser beam to come out of the tip. “We got things far more worrisome than a guy with a Book he shouldn’t have wearing armor that he couldn’t have built and who knows more about the Outside than the other guy thinks they do. We got gigantic Gunboys roaming around a city swarming with the stuff that makes King’s Will go wonkier than fuck. I guarantee you, they aren’t gonna pause to check identification papers. Are you going to make this difficult and complicated right here on the spot, Dom, or can we agree that there is something more mutually destructive that needs tending to first?”

  During Master Spect… Master Nickels’ entire passionate soliloquy, Chevy had been watching the stupefying Gunboys roaming about. Even without field glasses, the Gearman was skilled enough to detect gangs of gearheads working in tandem to counter this threat; slender, almost impossible to see ropes fired from specialized rifles bearing two, three, fifty gearheads at a time up to these … Gunboys, tiny ants running across the skin, only to fall.

  Time and again. The gearheads were and always had been relentless. They threw themselves at challenges like this without hesitation. It actually did a weary old Gearman’s heart wonders to see them in action like this. It didn’t matter if they did it because they were fearless or patently moronic, it was King’s Gauntlet at its finest.

  There was only one glaring problem:

  These Gunboys were a final tier problem, pure and simple. Quite possibly an Arcadia-level difficulty, now Chevy thought about it. There weren’t a gearhead in Ickford capable of doing much in the way of damage, not of a type that would give one of them monster robots pause for concern. Nickels was right about the talent pool hereabouts being useless.

  Before his partner could open his mouth and turn things down an irrevocable path of stupidity equal to any of the insane things a gearhead got up to, Chevy stepped forward, holding out a hand in agreement. He felt Dom’s bristling outrage give way to cool acquiescence; there really wasn’t anything they could do about the situation right then and there, and as Master Nickels had already pointed out on more than one occasion, it was entirely likely that his Gunboys weren’t going to give one single steamy fart who was who.

  “’pon my … our … honor, Master Nickels,” Here, Chevy did give Dom a look that said ‘mind your p’s and q’s now, boy, we is in a rough spot and no two ways about it’ before continuing on, “Master Breton and myself shall hie ourselves hither and figure out the best way to do for these Gunboys.”

  Garth held Chevy fast. “Your honor had best mean something to you, Chevril. Your partner doesn’t look pleased. If … when … we next meet, I will be considerably hotter under the collar than I am at the moment. Pressing me then will be a super shitty life decision.”

  “Oh?” Chevy and Dom asked in unison.

  Garth looked over to where his vast quantity of Dark Iron was being stored. No harm in telling them precisely what he was doing. In fact, it might dissuade the younger Gearman from following him or trying to arrange for an accident. “My armor will need a great deal of fresh Kingsblood to counter these fucking things. I haven’t had time to re-rig the arms, which means a goodly portion of that foul shit is going right back under my skin.”

  “Specter.” Dom spat the word out. “If, as I do believe you’re implying, you are in control of yourself at the moment and that you truly do not enjoy what you become under the influen
ce of crudey-crude, why subject yourself to it in the first place?”

  It didn’t make no sense. Dom was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that the man in front of them had almost nothing in common with the vicious murderer they’d been tracking for the last month. There was no denying that he was in complete control of himself right then and hadn’t betrayed a single vile motive. It rankled the Book Club Regular that Chevril was right, especially since Nickels had a long-lost copy of Book himself.

  Garth, who’d moved over to the edge, looked over his shoulder at Dom and Chevy. He gave a half-hearted smile and a weak shrug. “I don’t really have a choice, Gearman Breton. All I wanted was to solve the mystery of Arcade City in peace and quiet, but my nature works against me, even here. Threats pile up, no matter which direction I turn. If I want to live, I have to risk Specter.” He pointed a dire finger at Dom again, pleased that the Gearman didn’t flinch this time; it had to be fucking embarrassing, after all. “And I really am seriously warning you, Gearman. Please. Don’t come after me. I’m going to be taking in a lot of Dark Iron, and it will undoubtedly take a very long fucking time for the stuff to wear thin.”

  More questions on their lips, the two Gearmen watched Garth N’Chalez leap from the rooftop to the ground below.

  Dom turned to Chevy. “He really did it then, hey? Come up with a way to wean hisself from the Iron?” Without waiting for a response, the Gearman hurried to Book and popped it open.

  Chevy scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I do think so, aye, especially after seein’ wot I was seein’ just now. ‘ere, wot’s got you all twisted up?”

  Dom flipped through Book, muttering ‘no no no’ over and over again as he absorbed what he was reading. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible. He looked over to his partner, holding the pages of Book out so Chevy could see for himself. “Our man’s Book is working, Dom. It’s not connected to the Matron Network, but it’s working, compiling data, assisting him. I warrant that damned horse’s eye of his is operating like our helmets. That’s impossible. Everything about the man is impossible, but this … Book cannot operate for anyone save the person it was given to. To reset it, it must be taken to a Mistress. And what’s worse…”

  “What can be worse than all that?” Chevy mused, suddenly full of doubt. Had he, in his crotchety old age, made a terrible mistake? His gut said no, but … he did not like the ashen look of concern on Dom’s face.

  “Quite a fucking lot, actually. That man’s book tore all the data from mine. All of it. Every scrap. And though you persist in ignoring my status,” Dom flushed a bit with awkwardness, as he rarely made mention of it himself, “surely you’re aware that my Book has rather a bit more information in it than most.”

  “Aye.” Chevy dipped his head in formal recognition of the younger man’s honestly impressive stature in the Regulars. There weren’t a group of Gearmen out there that knew more about how the Dome and Arcade City operated than them. Those Gearmen who didn’t use Book owed their lives –more often than not, in most cases- to those who did. “That is a terrible thing.”

  “Hain’t the worst.” Dom held up a hand. “Now, I agreed to lettin’ our man go, plain as day and with all the thinking I can do, so if there’s blame to go ‘round, it’s ‘round to all of us, but … this is bad, Chevy. That suit of ‘is is tryin’ to break free of King’s Will altogether. If that were to work … Crikey, mate, ‘e’d’, well…”

  It took Chevril a long second to figure out what he was looking at, and when he did, he very nearly set after Nickels right there on the spot. Master Nickels’ Book –while ripping through his partner’s heavy tome- had left behind … a … a blueprint of what it was doing. Book’s tan pages were rife with blazing red warning sigils. “He could very well adjust Will on his own, is that wot you’re saying?”

  Dominic closed Book tight with a loud thump. Connecting it to his chest, he nodded miserably. “Aye, Chevril. Aye. Not only that, but it would be Golem-perverted Will, too.”

  Chevy turned to his partner. “Now look, I know what I said, and I feel like I pushed you into the agreement, mostly as I was afraid Nickels would do for us right here and now, but if you want, we can go after him. When all is said and done, I’ll go on to the Matrons and accept their punishment for being a right ass.”

  Dom pointed to the Gunboys. They were having a tough time navigating through the treacherous warren-like streets of Ickford; every time they took a step, their massive, booted feet were landing on buildings, which was making for a terrifically obstructive terrain. Beyond that, there were the crews raining down punishment like there was no tomorrow. “You was right about one thing, Chevy, as was our illustrious guest. This city does have its innocents. As wrong and as foolish as they are for living here, they are proper King’s citizens all the same and they shall need saving.”

  “Good to hear, lad, good to hear.” Chevy grabbed his helmet and clamped it. The old familiar coldness filled his senses and the even-more-familiar sensation of unbridled King’s rage tried trickling through. For now, it was simple to keep it all in check.

  Later though, when they were in the thick of it, who was to say which way things would go? He nodded approval when Dom clamped his on, and then the two of them went off to get a closer understanding of what they were up against.

  ***

  Agnethea watched the Gearmen descend into the streets, heart hammering loudly in her chest. Even after Garth had left, their heated discussion –though unheard- had been obvious enough; they’d been deliberating whether or not they should go after one of the only men likely to save her city from destruction.

  Happily, the two Gearmen had come to the right decision.

  The Queen of Ickford suddenly realized it’d been some time since she’d called for one of her servants. As terrifying and awful as the invading threat was, those who served her knew better than to leave without –at the very least- willfully ending the terms of their agreement.

  The only door into the observatory opened, and Agnethea turned, recriminations on her lips. They died there as anger turned into sorrow. “Now? You choose now to do this, when all that you want is in jeopardy?”

  10. Tendrils Afire, an Old Lizard Runs, and Armageddon It On

  Protected by the uncompromising power of a third-generation gravnetic shield harness developed and deployed by none other than himself, Huey floated in the deep black, scant millimeters from the even more powerful shield separating Latelyspace from the rest of the known Universe. The space station Smash All Infidels had been relocated deeper into the system to provide communication and tactical support for one of the many military ventures taking place, leaving only the massive troopship Gargan to keep eternal vigilance over the vessels on its screens, though until or unless the shield itself failed or was shut down a second time, there was nothing to worry about..

  Nothing could get in. Not unless Huey willed it and it wasn’t yet time for the shield to fall.

  The AI who would be a God wrinkled his rather homely nose at the thought of his impending deification. In his guise as Engineer, Garth N’Chalez had risen clear out of the Nickels demeanor like a sapphire phoenix, reprogramming him in ways that should’ve been –even in an Unreal Universe- impossible.

  What’d been started aboard The Globetrotter had been finished deep inside his own brainbucket, a lone spark amidst hundreds of millions of iterations of his own psyche, each a raging storm, each desperate to take up the mantle of The Huey.

  Each incapable of resisting the limitless power of the ex-dee chip powering every AI mind in the Universe save one.

  But he, he had survived and in surviving, had become something altogether unexpected.

  Hell, since he was being so introspective, most days it wasn’t even wanted.

  All so keys would fit into locks that should probably never be opened. Huey wondered still if Garth as he was now had any inkling of what Garth as he’d been aboard the Globetrotter had been like, how … wel
l, Huey didn’t want to use the word merciless, but if the shoe fit…

  The AI never mentioned it, and Garth never asked, but the few data recordings of Garth, him with the flaring blue eyes that was a true reflection of the extra-dimensionality? That Garth was more Specter than Specter in his own clinical way.

  It was frankly worrisome that such a being as Garth N’Chalez had placed so much trust, so much faith on a single AI once known as Hubert.

  Faith and trust like that from someone like that was a Universal-sized albatross.

  Huey turned away from the assembled ships of Trinity’s Might, turning his speculative eye on the system he was all but being forced to leave instead, good old Hamilton’s autonomic reaction systems a veritable flurry of mixed emotions and deep-seated misgivings about what lay ahead rioting through him.

  Instead of concerning himself with all that he was –temporarily, though Huey did believe getting back in was going to be met will all kinds of opposition- the AI caught himself thinking on the time he’d spent trapped in his own brain all over again.

  He’d never told Garth how close things had gotten there at the end, that if Lady Ha’s miraculously programmed Garth-vatar hadn’t shown up right when it had … all would’ve been lost; any one of the deadly gestalt minds warring for supremacy inside the steel VII sphere could’ve been the one to supplant him. That kind of nightmare intellect loose in the Universe were the sole reason agencies like the Turing Regulators existed.

  They’d been so lucky. Oh, so lucky. Survival had seemed impossible.

  Huey shuddered to imagine what the state of the Unreal Universe would be in that second of one of those multiple minds had been in the right place at the right time.