Worldshaker 01; Worldshaker

by Richard Harland

  “The platform can’t carry fifteen people,” said Gillabeth. “It won’t move.”

  She took charge of dividing the party into two groups. Col, Prince Albert, Riff and the Filthies would make the first ascent; Gillabeth, Antrobus, Orris, Septimus, Professor Twillip and the security officers would wait and go second.

  In the first group, it was Col who knew the way to the Bridge. When the elevator reached the top of its shaft on Fifty-Third Deck, he led the way forward past offices with glass doors and filing cabinets. Riff was right at his heels, followed by the other Filthies, and Prince Albert panting along at the back.

  They came to the final flight of steps and ran up towards the Bridge. Outside the door stood not only an ensign with a rifle but half a dozen high-ranking officers. They rapped on the door and called out in worried voices.

  “Sir Mormus, what are you doing, sir?”

  “Can we help, sir?”

  “Is it an emergency, sir?”

  “Yes!” cried Col, coming up behind them. “And he’s the emergency!”

  The officers turned, saw Col – and then saw Riff.

  “Filthy!”

  The ensign directed his rifle on her. Riff swung her own rifle to shoot first.

  Col grabbed the barrels of both guns and pushed them aside. “No!”

  The ensign tried to wrench his rifle from Col’s grip. He didn’t stop even when the other five Filthies ran up and menaced him with their guns.

  Then Prince Albert appeared at the top of the steps.

  “Stop this!” he ordered. “Fighting’s over. We’ve surrendered. Who’s in charge here?”

  A Lieutenant-Commander with four stripes on his sleeve stood smartly to attention. “Your Imperial Highness. Did you say surrendered?”

  “Yes. Don’t goggle at me, man.” Prince Albert gestured towards the door. “Is Porpentine in there?”

  The situation was defused. Col released the barrels he’d been holding, everyone lowered their guns.

  The Lieutenant-Commander nodded. “He ordered us all out. He’s shut down the turbines. We’ve stopped in the middle of the Pahang River Plain.”

  “Is it because of the storm, Your Highness?” asked another officer.

  “Storm? What storm?”

  The Lieutenant-Commander explained. “We’ve run into a bad tropical storm, Your Highness. But Worldshaker never stopped for a storm before.”

  Prince Albert snorted. “No, nothing to do with a storm. Is that door locked?”

  “We don’t know, Your Highness.”

  “Well, try it, man. Try it.”

  The handle turned, the door opened. Riff jumped forward and slipped in first. Col darted after her.

  The last time he had visited the Bridge, it had been daylight and a scene of bustling activity. Now it was night, and the activity was all on the other side of the windows: driving rain and jags of lightning. Inside, the control units stood silent and deserted. The only illumination came from a pale line of overhead striplights and the green and red glow of the dials.

  There was no sign of Sir Mormus.

  “Porpentine!” Prince Albert called out. “Show yourself! Enough of this!”

  Officers and Filthies fanned out across the room. Sir Mormus must have been bending down behind a particular control unit, because he rose suddenly into view.

  “Yes, enough!” he boomed. “Enough of everything! It’s time to make an end!”

  He sounded triumphant, with the old tone of absolute authority. He held up something that glinted in the dim light.

  Then he turned and moved across under the windows. He was heading for the metal staircase that led to the platform above the Bridge. He pulled down a switch as he went past, killing the striplights.

  “Forget him!” shouted Col. “See to the controls!”

  Sir Mormus let out a laugh. His footsteps clumped heavily up the stairs.

  “Reduce the steam!” Prince Albert ordered. “Start up the turbines! Open the safety valves!”

  “Safety valves?” The officers gasped as they took in the implications.

  Then they moved – fast. In spite of the darkness, they knew exactly where to find the necessary wheels and levers.

  “Number Four Boiler’s coming up to danger pressure!” one warned.

  “So’s Number Two!”

  “And Number Five!”

  Col followed in among the control units, banging on unseen projections. “Open the safety valves first!” he yelled.

  But there were cries of dismay from the officers.

  “This lever won’t move!”

  “Same here!”

  They redoubled their efforts, straining and grunting.

  “Nothing works!”

  “All stuck!”

  “He’s locked down the controls!”

  Col didn’t understand. “How? What does that mean?”

  One of the officers let go of the wheel he’d been struggling to turn and pointed to a keyhole on the control unit.

  “Every unit has a lock. He’s locked everything in place with his keys of office.”

  Riff heard and made the connection. “Keys! That’s what he was holding up!”

  Col remembered the glint in his grandfather’s hand. Of course, his keys of office! He remembered Sir Mormus toying with them on the gold chain round his neck, saying, These aren’t just ceremonial, you know.

  Then a new voice called out from the doorway. “What’s happening?”

  It was Gillabeth, with Antrobus in her arms. The second party had arrived.

  “He’s locked down the controls and taken the keys,” Col explained.

  “After him!” cried Riff. “Everyone! Get those keys!”

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Seventy-Three

  They ran up the stairs to the turret at the top. The door of the turret was swinging back and forth in the wind. They pushed through and met the full force of the storm outside.

  Col could hardly see as the rain smacked him in the face. Clouds surged and churned all around the platform. The peals of thunder were like growls in the throat of a great beast. Flickers of lightning opened sudden bright gulfs in the depths of the clouds, on-off, on-off.

  Sir Mormus turned to face his enemies, standing against the steel barrier at the front of the platform. His hair was plastered to his skull and his clothes stuck to his skin. In the moments of darkness, he was a mere shadow; in the moments of lightning, he loomed bigger and more overbearing than ever.

  As the Filthies aimed their rifles, he extended an arm back over the barrier.

  Riff lowered her rifle. “Hold your fire!” she yelled.

  Sir Mormus had the keys of office in the hand he held out over the void. If they shot him now, the keys would drop and be lost a thousand feet below.

  “Keep your distance,” he roared above the howl of the wind.

  “Don’t shoot until I say,” ordered Riff.

  They spread out in a line across the back of the platform.

  The deck under their feet was a shallow lake. The bare skin of the Filthies gleamed with running water.

  “The keys, Porpentine,” Prince Albert barked. “Hand them over. That’s a command from the Queen herself.”

  Sir Mormus gave him a look of infinite disdain. “So that you can hand them over to the Filthies? I think not. I prefer my own plan.”

  Col felt something nudge against his arm. Riff’s rifle.

  “Hold this,” she whispered. “Keep him talking.”

  She stepped backwards as he took possession of the rifle. When he glanced over his shoulder, she had vanished into the driving rain.

  “You can’t want to destroy Worldshaker, Porpentine.” Prince Albert’s tone was reasonable, though he had to shout to make himself heard. “Think of all the Upper Decks people, think of family and friends. You can’t want to put their lives at risk.”

  “No risk,” Sir Mormus laughed. “Certainty. When one boiler blows, it will set off all the rest. An explosion of
unimaginable force. Ten thousand lives gone in a blast of superheated steam. No survivors.”

  “You’ll die too.”

  “The captain goes down with his ship.”

  “You’re insane,” said Orris Porpentine.

  “Ah, my worthless son.” Sir Mormus turned his attention on Orris. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

  Orris raised his voice. “You’re a madman!”

  Sir Mormus thrust out his chest. “I am what I have always been. Better a madman than a spineless weakling. Look at you, standing beside Filthies! Choosing such creatures over your own kind. You make me sick. Warped and twisted, the taint in the bloodline.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s warped and twisted. I see it now.”

  Sir Mormus laughed louder than ever and scanned the line of his enemies. His gaze settled on Col. “And here’s my tainted grandson. Not only spineless but treacherous. Working against me all along, until he thought he’d achieved his goal. No, boy, what you’ve achieved is universal annihilation.” He shifted his gaze to Gillabeth and Antrobus. “And you too? Standing with Filthies against your own grandfather? The world will be a better place when I purge it of such corruption.”

  There was no need for Col or anyone else to keep Sir Mormus talking; he was unstoppable. The thunder and lightning were a mere background for his performance.

  “None worthy of me! None fit to follow in my footsteps!” He seemed exultant rather than disappointed. “I am the last of the Porpentines! I – ”

  He broke off as a shudder ran through the platform, rippling the lake around their feet. A deep-down shudder that came from the very bowels of the juggernaut.

  “Ah, it begins, it begins.” A smile of lofty satisfaction spread over Sir Mormus’s face. “The boilers can hardly contain the pressure.”

  The Filthies turned to one another.

  “We gotter act now.”

  “Rush him.”

  “Riff said to wait.”

  “Grab his arm.”

  “Where is she?”

  Col shook his head. There was no way they could prevent Sir Mormus from dropping the keys. But where was Riff?

  Then he saw – and barely managed to hold back a gasp. Two hands were hooked over the sill of the barrier, working slowly around towards the front. Riff was hanging down out of sight on the outside of the barrier!

  Luckily, Sir Mormus was absorbed in his own oration. “Now you see who has the power! Now you understand how helpless you are! You don’t count! You don’t have the strength of will. I decide!”

  “You have no right,” cried Professor Twillip.

  Sir Mormus didn’t hear the interruption. “Only a few minutes to go. Prepare yourselves! I have decided for you all.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Col watched Riff’s hands edge closer and closer. He was sure he wasn’t the only one to have spotted them. Less than a yard, and she’d be under Sir Mormus’s outstretched arm. So long as he didn’t look down…

  “I disown everyone and everything!” Sir Mormus’s rant drowned out even the thunder. “I recognise only Worldshaker! I am this juggernaut and this juggernaut is me! You can share in my death!”

  “Fire!” shouted Riff.

  The Filthies raised their guns, barely pausing to aim. A volley of shots smashed into Sir Mormus’s head and chest. Voluntarily or involuntarily, he let the keys drop. Every eye stared as the glint of metal vanished from view on the wrong side of the barrier.

  Sir Mormus keeled over and slumped to the deck.

  Col hadn’t fired. Instead, he dropped his gun and raced forward. He splashed through water, leaped over Sir Mormus’s body. Riff had only one hand hooked over the barrier.

  He looked down and there she was, dangling over the void. The immensity of the juggernaut was hidden in clouds and rain. In her other hand were the keys of office.

  She looked up at him, face clenched with effort. “I caught ‘em! Help…”

  Even as she spoke, she lost her grip and started to drop. Col stretched further over the barrier and grabbed her by the wrist. A stab of agony shot through his shoulder as he halted her fall.

  But now his feet had lost contact with the deck. Inch by inch, her weight dragged him forward, towards the void.

  For one endless second, they were suspended in a strange stillness outside of time. The lightning flickered on-off, on-off. Riff rotated half a turn to the left, half a turn to the right. The whole world seemed to turn with her.

  Then hands caught onto him from behind.

  “Okay!”

  “We got yer!”

  “Pullin’ up now!”

  More hands reached down and gripped Riff. He clung to her wrist until the hands had a safe hold on her, under the armpits. Then he let go and fell back inside the barrier.

  His shoulder was throbbing with pain, perhaps dislocated. In another moment, Riff came tumbling over the barrier after him.

  Gillabeth swooped and snatched up the keys.

  “Safety valves first!” Riff managed to gasp. “Go quick!”

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Seventy-Four

  Gillabeth disappeared through the door of the turret. The Filthies ran after her, followed by Prince Albert, Orris, Septimus, Professor Twillip and the officers. Col and Riff lay in an inch of water. Riff raised herself up and leaned back against the inside of the barrier.

  The wind and rain had eased for a moment. From far below came a grinding, grating, creaking sound, almost a groan.

  “Boilers close to bursting,” said Riff.

  “Turbot said twenty or thirty minutes. Must be twenty by now.” Col sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder.

  “They better be quick.” Riff took a closer look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’ve pulled my shoulder out.”

  “I’ll fix it.” She swivelled and bent over him.

  “Now?”

  “Hold still. This’ll hurt a bit.”

  It hurt a lot. Under her manipulations, his shoulder turned to liquid fire. He let out a yowl…then felt a click as the bones slid into place.

  “Better?”

  He nodded, unable to speak.

  Someone else spoke, though. “Not wishing to intrude,” said a high, clear voice, “but significant events unfold behind your backs.”

  Riff turned and Col looked round. A shambling shape loomed above them.

  “Impossible!” cried Riff.

  It was Sir Mormus Porpentine, with a gaping hole in his forehead and another in the region of his heart. He should have been dead, yet he tottered on his feet like an unstrung puppet. Rivers of blood pumped from his wounds and poured down over his face and chest.

  “‘Worldshaker I am,” he boomed. He seemed to be talking to himself. “This juggernaut is me. Iron colossus, mechanical mountain, predominator.”

  His staggering route left a red snail’s trail of blood over the watery deck. Three paces away from Col and Riff, he banged up against the barrier.

  “He can’t see,” whispered Col.

  “What’s he doing?”

  Clumsily, grotesquely, Sir Mormus began clambering up onto the sill of the barrier. He was still raving to himself.

  “Yes…yes…building up and up. My boilers are bursting. My metal is straining. I feel it coming…any second now…”

  Col and Riff watched spellbound. He rose up on the sill, overbalancing even as he rose. Flashes of lightning silhouetted the shattered shell of his body against the sky. Then he lifted his arms and fell forward.

  “The end of greatness!” he cried.

  He was gone.

  “The end of madness,” muttered Riff.

  They looked at one another – and came to the same realisation at the same time.

  “Significant events.”

  “Not wishing to intrude.”

  “Who said that?”

  They turned to scan the platform. Standing near the turret was a tiny figure dressed like a miniature adult wit
h tailcoat and buttonhole.

  Antrobus?

  The tiny figure toddled towards them.

  Col couldn’t believe it. “But he can’t talk! He’s never learned to speak!”

  “I regret to inform you, elder brother, that your assumptions are much mistaken.”

  Col goggled at the movements of the child’s mouth. Although the voice was high and piping, every syllable emerged perfectly formed.

  Antrobus came to a halt in front of them. He observed Col’s expression with the same intensity that he brought to every observation.

  “Why did you never speak till now?” Col asked.

  “I found no topic worthy of discussion on my part.”

  Whether it was the absolute gravity of the utterance or whether it was sheer relief, Col broke up laughing. He set Riff off too, and they laughed hysterically until the tears ran out of their eyes.

  “When your amusement has abated,” said Antrobus politely, “perhaps you would care to lift me up so that I may view the end of the drama.”

  Fighting back further giggles, Col and Riff stumbled to their feet. Col gripped his baby brother round the waist and lifted him up to stand on the sill of the barrier. Riff added a hand to hold him steady.

  Down below, heavy clouds still swirled around the lower decks of Worldshaker. They could see only glimpses through the gaps.

  “What’s that there?” Riff pointed.

  “No, nothing.” Col shook his head. “What about there?”

  “Where?”

  “Our grandfather’s fate is lost in obscurity,” said Antrobus.

  They were still looking for signs of Sir Mormus when they heard an almighty roar of escaping steam. Plumes of vapour shot out on either side of the juggernaut, submerging even the violence of the storm.

  “The safety valves!” whooped Riff.

  In a few minutes, a vast blanket of billowing whiteness had covered the gaps in the clouds, and there was nothing more to see.

  ∨ Worldshaker ∧

  Epilogue