by Paul Kater
Lily Marin - three short steampunk stories
by Paul Kater
Alexandria Publishing Group
Copyright 2011 Paul Kater
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Contents:
Lily and the motley crew
Lily and the avenging angel
Lily and doctor Drosselmeyer
About the author
Books I published
Lily and the motley crew
"Lily?"
The voice made her look up from her improvised make-up table. In the smudgy mirror, which was flanked by oil lamps with cracked leather caps, she saw the outline of the owner of the bar.
Lily had just sung in his establishment and now she was removing the make-up from her face. "What do you want? And why don't you knock when you come into a lady's dressing room? I could be naked for all you know." She assumed that was what he had been hoping for.
"Just wanted to bring your pay, Lily, that's all." Part of the man in the shadows became visible for a moment as a hand put an envelope on the table. "I'll get in touch when we have another evening. You're the best, Lily." For a hesitant second it looked as if the hand wanted to come to a rest on her shoulder, but its owner decided differently. He did not know how smart a decision that was. Footsteps moved away from the singer.
Lily waited until the door closed. "Sure. The best. That's why I sing here and not in something like Albert Hall." She knew she wasn't the best singer in the world, but that was fine with her. She could live her life anonymously and do what she liked. And what she had to. "Speaking of which, I should get moving," she told her hairbrush.
The singer quickly put her few belongings in her bag, slipped her coat on and with her umbrella in hand she left the bar through the back door. A fine rain greeted her as she walked away.
"Wonder when there is an evening I won't need it," Lily muttered as she fought the umbrella. She won, so she could walk along under the small portable shelter. Since the start of the alchemists' convention it seemed to rain more than usual.
She reached her modest home. It was not far away. Lily got out of her dress and washed her face. It was time for action again. The newspaper had told her so, earlier that day. She tied her long dark hair in a tight knot at the back of her head to keep it out of the way.
As she slipped into the tight black leather pants, she thought of the audience in the bar. Good people, she knew, hard-working folks out for a nice time. And they didn't object to her singing, she thought with a grin. Lily put on the red shirt and buttoned that up. A leather vest went over it and then she buckled up the tool belt, as she called it. Once the belt was around her waist, she checked the tools.
The dagger was shiny and sharp, the razors in place. The rad-gun, big and heavy, was full as she picked it from the charging unit. The weight of the radiation thrower felt comforting on her hip as it slid in the slightly worn holster. Without looking Lily switched it to standby, so the internal circuitry could warm up.
She went to get the long coat and put it on. It never ceased to amaze her how light it was, considering how many strands of reinforced microfibres were woven into the fabric. It withstood bullets and had once saved her life from the blow of an axe. After putting on the black sturdy boots, Lily opened the small cupboard that was hidden under her coat rack and disconnected the backpack. It was her pride.
She strapped the pine wood case to her back; the leather padding settled itself quickly to the contours of her back like the hand of a lover. She tucked the flexible copper tube with the ruby on the end in her pocket, hooked the whip to her tool belt, grabbed the big umbrella and then she was ready. The mask was in her other pocket, she always kept it there, but she would not need that yet.
As she walked down the streets, none of the few people who were out in the rain paid her any mind. They all just wanted to get home and stay out of trouble and the rain. Lily had opened the big umbrella to keep the downpour away from her. No need to get soaking wet just yet.
Once she was several streets away from her small apartment she stepped onto the road, where she kicked the heel of one boot against the other. The compact mechanisms in the thick soles reacted flawlessly and raised her up four feet. She started walking again, now with the long strides her artificially extended legs made possible. Walking faster than a regular person was forbidden on the sidewalks, but walking in the street like this usually was a pain, with carriages and cars getting in the way. Good thing there was hardly any traffic now.
Soon Lily reached the area she had read about in the newspaper. She stopped at the side of the road and put the mask on. It hid most of her face, and contained the special lenses that helped her see clearly in the dark. As she moved the lenses into place, everything bathed in a familiar green light.
In the area of Hurst Street and Ambly Road, the newspaper had said, a band of vagabonds made life of the people living there very difficult, with muggings, beatings, fires, explosive devices and the like. Several police officers had already laid down their lives trying to capture the thugs. That had been enough for Lily.
She didn't care much about property, but when officers were dying in the line of their work, like her father and her uncle, that was where she drew the line. She wiggled her toes to make the elevation mechanism slide back into the soles of the boots. She wanted to attract the vagabonds and standing out like that would probably have the opposite effect.
Lily stepped onto the battered sidewalk. That too bore the marks of the vagabonds. She closed the umbrella and pulled up the collar of her coat. Lily tried to decide which way to go first. A loud bang and a tremor beneath her feet helped her. She walked back to the crossing of Ambly and Lowell and turned into Lowell Road.
Three people came running towards her. It was unclear if they were the vagabonds or their victims, so she hid in the doorway of the house she was in front of. Some shouting and a few shots later, she heard the bullets fly, it was clear that she had seen victims run.
Lily counted the seconds. Too long, experience told her. The running folk should have passed her by now. They had probably been in the way of the bullets. The street was silent again, so Lily moved out of the shadows. Immediately she saw the bodies lying in the street. Perhaps, she hoped, they were only wounded, not dead.
The left glass in her mask, which had heat seeking abilities, did not show any significant cooling down of either body, but that meant nothing: they had been down for only a few seconds. Slowly she folded up her umbrella and hung that from the tool belt. The people on the ground, she found, were all dead.
The vagabonds had moved on. The street lights assisted the lenses in showing Lily the desolate place that was Lowell Road. Cars and carriages had been blown to smithereens or burnt to crisps, windows were shattered, some had been hastily nailed shut with pieces of wood, and there were many cracks in the pavement. She could almost smell the fear that lived behind the closed windows. A few loud bangs, shots from firearms again, told her where the vagabonds had progressed to, so she started walking. They could not be far; as the vagabonds considered themselves masters in the area, they would not be in a hurry.
Lily turned into the first street she came across. There a group was standing, as if they had not a care in the world. Most of the street lights here were off. Damaged probably. The light-enhancers in her mask showed her six men, all dressed in torn, ill-fitting suits. In a reflex her hand slid over the rad-gun that was under the coat, mak
ing sure it was there.
Four of the men carried handguns, she saw, and at least one of those was a rad-gun. Her coat would take a good beating if they had a shot at her with that.
In the darkness, the six men did not notice Lily until she was very close. The thick soft soles of her boots dampened her footsteps, which usually was an advantage.
"Now look what we have here," one of the men said as he saw Lily walking up to the group. Four barrels of guns were pointed at her. "Halt, raise your hands."
"Wrong. You will raise your hands," Lily said, "and after I tied you up you will come with me. About time that this neighbourhood is freed from the likes of you."
The men looked confused, despite their weaponry. Lily never changed her voice; the sound of a woman speaking from inside the fearsome attire usually was in her advantage. Now also. As the six hesitated, she brought out her whip from under her coat and made it dance a few times. The four guns flew through the air and landed on the street somewhere, out of the range of triggerfingers.
As the whip landed in her other hand, she drew the rad-gun and pointed it at the group.
"Make no mistakes, gentlemen," she said, "I know how to use this and my finger is faster than all your legs