by David Bishop
Dante nodded. "I guess your family is rich enough already to send you to a place like this?"
"No, I got in on a scholarship. The House of Sokorina is almost bankrupt, has been since before the war."
"Oh. Well, anyway, the important thing is-" Dante's words were cut off by the sound of someone screaming in the corridor outside. "Stay here," he hissed at Natalia, hurrying to the door. Biocircuitry was already starting to extrude from his right hand, forming itself into a sabre.
A naked man was running along the corridor towards Dante's quarters, babbling and gibbering wildly. As the figure got closer Dante realised it was Flintlock, the aristocratic face filled with terror and horror in equal measure.
"Flintlock? Flintlock, what's happening?" Dante hissed, as his travelling companion raced past. But the man from Britannia kept running, as if intent on getting back to his homeland before dawn.
"Nikolai? What's happening out there?" Natalia asked.
Dante waved her to be silent. Another figure was running towards him. This one was slower and heavier, judging by the sound of the footfalls. Suddenly Madame Wartski burst round a corner, clad only in a harness of leather straps, much of her body wobbling freely in the night air. She was clutching a black rubber truncheon, but it looked surprisingly flexible. Dante pushed his door shut before she ran past, not wanting to catch her eye.
"Well?" Natalia demanded. "What was it?"
"You mean who was it," Dante replied. "In cases like this, I operate a strict policy of 'Don't ask, don't tell', okay?"
"You're not trying to keep secrets from me?"
"No. Look, Natalia, there's two things I have to ask you to do."
"Just name them, Nikolai."
"First of all, don't call me Nikolai or Dante, even when we're alone together. I don't believe this room is under surveillance but we can't take any risks. If Doctor Fabergè discovered who I really am he would not hesitate to have me killed or handed over to the Tsar. You would suffer a similar fate for not having turned me in."
"Alright, I understand."
"The other thing is even more important. Let me investigate what is going on in this castle. You don't have my experience at covert missions and you don't have a Weapons Crest."
"You're saying I'm just a girl and can't be trusted."
"No. I don't want to see you hurt because of me. You've got your life ahead of you. Don't throw it away."
"I suppose you're right."
Dante took her chin in one hand and tilted her face up so she was looking into his eyes. "Promise me you won't do anything to endanger yourself."
"I promise," she agreed reluctantly.
"Good. Now you'd better get back to your dormitory. I don't want to explain why I've got a seventeen year-old pupil in my room this late at night."
"That didn't bother you with Helga. Or Carmen. Or Mai Lin."
"I'm not taking the same chance with you, okay?"
"Okay. Well, goodnight." Natalia bent forward and gave him a quick kiss on the left cheek before hurrying out of the room. Once she had gone Dante locked his door for the night, not wanting any more surprise visitors.
"Do you think she'll listen to me, Crest?"
I hope so, it replied, for her sake. Are you ready to see Fabergè's report?
"I guess so," Dante agreed. "What do I have to do?"
Close your eyes and let me interface with your subconscious mind. It'll be like walking into a dream - a very sinister dream.
Dante lay down on the bed and followed the Crest's instructions, emptying his mind of all conscious thought. Blackness soon engulfed him...
"Welcome to Fabergè Island!" Dante was startled to see Doctor Fabergè striding towards him, arm outstretched, ready to shake hands. "You've arrived on a most propitious day. Follow me, follow me!" Fabergè marched away towards the doors of the castle. Dante looked around and found he was outside again, on the island's landing pad.
"Crest! What's happening?" he hissed under his breath.
You're inside the report, it replied. Don't worry, this isn't the real Doctor Fabergè, just a simulation that will guide you around the castle. I'll skip past the guided tour and take you to the key section of the report.
Dante's surroundings shimmered out of existence and then reappeared in a new form. The doctor was standing in front of his laboratory, holding the door open for the visitor to enter. Dante walked past Fabergè and into the room, studying its high ceiling, gleaming work surfaces and phalanx of research tools. "Very impressive," Dante said, unwittingly falling into the role of tourist.
"You're too kind," Fabergè simpered in response. "How much do you know about my experiments, codenamed the Strangelove Gambit?"
"Surprisingly little," Dante admitted. "When did you first get the idea for it?"
"The Year of the Tsar 2660. I heard one of the fabulous Imperial Easter Eggs was coming up for auction. I had long been fascinated by those masterpieces of the jeweller's art. When word leaked out the fabled Steel Military Egg was going to be auctioned, I determined to buy it at any cost. That egg inspired me to create an entirely new branch of scientific research, which I call Fabergènetics."
"Tell me more," Dante prompted, taking a seat in the virtual laboratory.
"Each of the Imperial Easter Eggs contained a miniature surprise, some made of clockwork, others exquisite jewels or tiny portraits. I decided to adopt this idea on a genetic level, engineering human embryos so they too would contain a surprise. But my surprises would not be made of clockwork or jewels. No, mine would be far more valuable in years to come."
"Sounds fascinating," Dante said, even though his mind recoiled in horror at the thought of someone like Fabergè playing God.
"I am creating the finest in genetically-enhanced children, each one artificially augmented with weaponry that makes the Romanov Weapons Crest look like a plaything. I won't presume to bore you with the fine details of this research, it can be rather a dry subject for those who have not devoted their lives to the field of genetics."
"A wise decision."
"But suffice it to say the last twelve years of my life have been devoted to this task. There have been many failures - many, many setbacks - but also one glorious success in the earliest days of my research. Now, at long last, I have made the final breakthrough. Unfertilised eggs have been taken from the elite class of pupils here at my finishing school, one from all the most important noble houses. These eggs are being genetically modified to create my little surprises. Once fertilised with sperm from a suitable donor, the eggs will be implanted back into the students before they graduate. The young women shall return home to their families, unaware they are pregnant with the next generation of bio-weaponry.
"When their relatives become aware of these unwanted babies, some may attempt to abort the foetus. That cannot be allowed. Your forces must ensure the noble houses remain loyal by letting these pregnancies continue. The babies will be vulnerable until the end of the second trimester. After that the mother can be discarded, her usefulness as a vessel for my Fabergènetics at an end." By the end of this speech the doctor had raised his arms skyward, as if raising himself to the level of a god. Eventually he dropped his hands back to his sides. "Well, are there any questions?"
"How much more of this horror show do I need to watch?" Dante asked.
"I'm sorry," Fabergè replied. "I don't understand the question."
That's enough, the Crest interjected. Shutting down the presentation.
Dante's eyes snapped open. He was back on his bed in the castle. "Diavolo! Is what Fabergè has planned feasible, Crest?"
Apparently so. He wouldn't have invited the Tsar here otherwise. That's too great a risk, even for someone with such a bloated view of his own importance.
"I need to find a way into that laboratory," Dante decided. "I don't want to risk a frontal attack, but unless I can past Fabergè's security system soon..."
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Dante.
"Yeah
, well, I'm no angel."
That much is certain.
A hammering on the door cut short their debate. "Not another late night visitation," Dante complained. "Even I can only stretch so far." He went to the door and listened intently. The knocking resumed. "Who is it?"
"Spatch," a voice hissed urgently. "Let me in, quick!" Dante unlocked the door and the kitchen hand hurried inside, his face full of fear. "We have got to get out of this madhouse!"
"Why? What have you seen?"
"For a start, Flintlock ran past me on the stairs, screaming blue murder and clutching his privates, closely followed by a nearly naked Madame Wartski. You don't get many of those to the pound, let me tell you."
"They went past here before," Dante agreed. "What else?"
Spatchcock detailed his attempt to throw kitchen scraps into the sea, struggling to describe the creature that reared up at him from the water. "It was half human, half fish - teeth like razors, hundreds of them. And its eyes, dead they were, black as coal and colder than the night. Horrible, it was, horrible." His hands were shaking as he recalled the incident.
Dante retrieved a hip flask from his luggage and let Spatchcock take a drink from it. "Enough, that's enough!" he growled when the former felon tried to steal another sip. "Crest, in his presentation Fabergè talked about having had many failures during his years of research. Do you think Spatch encountered one of them, still alive in the waters round the island?"
The good doctor may be using his failures like guard dogs, letting them scare away curious fishermen and tourists, the Crest speculated.
Dante nodded. "Spatch, I need you to find Flintlock. Try and keep him quiet, he's supposed to be a mute. One of the students has already figured out who I am, we don't need anyone else discovering why we're here."
"Alright," Spatchcock said. "But I ain't going near water again. Ever."
"It's not like you had that close a relationship with washing before, is it? Now, off you go!" Dante urged. He let the kitchen hand out and locked his door once more. "Crest, there's something that's still troubling me."
Only one thing?
"We know where Fabergè keeps some of his failed experiments. But in the presentation he mentioned an early success. Where does he keep that?"
Natalia had lain awake in her bed most of the night, tossing and turning, going over in her mind the conversation with Dante - Mr Durward. She knew she was right about letting him investigate what Doctor Fabergè was doing, that was the sensible course of action. But she had spent her whole life being sensible, doing what others told her, always following the rules. For the first time she was close to something important. She couldn't just lie here and pretend nothing was happening. She had to do something, but what? The answer came to her at dawn.
When the other pupils went for breakfast, Natalia headed directly to the north tower and waited outside the basement entrance. A few minutes later the twins arrived to start work. "What are you doing here?" Storm demanded.
Taking a deep breath, Natalia approached the intimidating women. "Doctor Fabergè sent for me," she said boldly. "I'm overdue for my check-up."
"He never mentioned it to us," Tempest replied.
"Are you sure about this?" Storm demanded.
"Yes," Natalia maintained, trying to keep the fear from her voice. "All the elite class has been given a full medical examination, except me."
The twins exchanged a look before nodding. Storm passed her hand over the palm reader, deactivating the security systems. "Come with us," she said coldly, pushing Natalia toward the lift.
Dante arrived at his first class of the day, a fencing session in the gymnasium. But when the students split into pairs for practice, Helga was left without a partner. "Where's Natalia?"
"She didn't come to breakfast," Helga replied sadly. "Maybe she is sickening for something?"
"Guess she's becoming a woman at last," Carmen said sarcastically, getting a snigger from the other students. "Not before time if you ask me."
Dante turned on her. "Nobody did ask you, so keep your opinions to yourself," he snarled. A chiming sound cut through the air, surprising teacher and class. Dante looked around, perplexed. "The lesson can't be over yet, we've only just started..."
Wartski's voice issued from the Tannoy speakers, grating and metallic. "Mr Durward, come to my office immediately. Mr Durward, come to my office immediately. All other teachers and students are to return to their rooms." Another chime signalled the end of the message.
"Who's been a naughty boy then?" Helga whispered on her way out. "The last person called to her office was Mr Russell, and we never saw him again."
Dante escorted all the pupils outside and locked the gymnasium. "You heard the announcement, go back to your dormitories. Hopefully we'll be able to resume this class later in the day." He watched them wander back towards the east tower.
If you're lucky, Wartski is only going to reprimand you for sexual antics with the students, the Crest said.
"She's in no position to preach after what I saw last night."
Could Natalia have betrayed you?
"No," Dante replied firmly. "She believes in me. Natalia would never betray our secret - at least, not willingly."
Doctor Fabergè was already at work in his laboratory when Natalia arrived, escorted by the twins. "What is this girl doing here?"
"She claims you asked her here for a full medical examination, just like the other members of the elite class," Tempest explained.
Fabergè shook his head. "I made no such request."
Natalia smiled nervously, all too aware of the powerful hands gripping both her arms. "Well, I might have, er, exaggerated a little. I was just curious, I guess, about what happened in here. Maybe feeling a little left out, since all the other girls... you know." Realising she was out of her depth, Natalia tried to leave but the twins refused to release her. "Perhaps I should go?"
The doctor regarded her thoughtfully. "No, my dear, you shall have your examination. Tempest, prepare the instruments. Storm, you will sedate young Miss Sokorina, while I perform the procedure." Fabergè approached Natalia, staring intently into her eyes. "You should be careful what you wish for. Now, remove your clothes and get up on to that examining table."
Dante stood before Wartski in her office, a cold room cluttered by administrative paraphernalia. The matron sat behind a broad oak desk, dressed in her usual blue and white uniform. She glared at him for a full minute, arms folded across her more than ample chest. "First things first," she said, "I want to know why you lied about one of your servants, Flintlock."
"Lied? I never lied," Dante replied, determined to maintain his pretence of innocence as long as possible. Better to let Wartski make her accusations than offer any unnecessary admissions of guilt.
"Soon after arriving on the island you told me he was a mute."
"That's correct."
"Yet last night he was shouting and screaming at the top of his lungs - in the accent of a Britannia native. How can you explain that?"
"I can't." Dante shrugged. "May I ask, what were the circumstances of Flintlock regaining his voice?"
"You may not."
"I just wondered if he was undergoing a painful or pleasurable experience at the time. You see, my servant lost his voice as a result of post-traumatic stress disorder suffered during the war. He was trapped for four days alone in no man's land, during the Battle of Vladigrad. When finally rescued by his comrades in arms, Flintlock was no longer able to speak."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I hate to think what horrors he must have faced, to rob the power of speech from him. That's why I asked about the incident that led to his speaking again, I thought it might be relevant."
"The circumstances are irrelevant. Suffice to say, he has regained his voice, although he is not yet making much sense. I believe your other servant is trying to coax him into forming sentences," Wartski said.
"Well, whatever incident triggered his recovery, it can only be co
nsidered a miracle cure. Just a shame we don't know what did the trick, as it could be recommended as a treatment for other sufferers of post-traumatic stress." Dante suppressed a smile, enjoying teasing the matron.
Wartski rose from her chair and began to walk around the office, circling Dante. "After witnessing your servant's sudden recovery, I began to have my doubts about you, Mr Durward. So I instituted further enquiries into your background, with a more thorough check of data on the Imperial Net."
She may be on to you, the Crest warned. Prepare for evasive action.
"On the mainland you claimed to be a close personal friend of Grigori Arbatov," Wartski continued, "the man originally appointed to your post. I contacted the Arbatov family, but none could recall such an acquaintance-"
"Well, Grigori and I were-"
"Do not interrupt me!" Wartski bellowed. She was standing to one side of Dante, her face quivering with rage. "You told me Captain Arbatov had suffered a fencing accident that prevented him joining the institute's faculty. I could find no record of any such accident. The captain was last seen in the village near our landing pad on the mainland, asking for directions on the day he was due to catch Doctor Fabergè's shuttle to the island."
Dante waited for a pause in her accusations before speaking again. "I can explain all of this, you see-"
"I did not give you permission to speak," Wartski spat at him, resuming her circling. "Early this morning I sent Tempest and Storm across to the mainland in search of the elusive Captain Arbatov. It did not take them long to discover his body, buried in a shallow grave, along with some of his discarded belongings."
"The Black Sea coastline is notorious for its bandits," Dante offered.
"Meanwhile I was scouring the Imperial Net, delving deeper than I had on my first search. A cursory enquiry would find plenty of evidence to support the claims of Quentin Durward. But something far more interesting came up when I was granted permission to access the files of the Tsar's Raven Corps."