It did not take long for John Moses Browning to make his decision. "Any last words, oath-breaker?"
You never wanted to be judged by a man who was named after two biblical figures. Harkeness stabbed out his cigarette on the arm of the chair. There would be no begging. "I'd do it again."
"I know." John Moses Browning pulled the trigger and put a single.45 slug through the Pale Horse's heart. UBF Tempest There had been an expanding wall of a world-consuming explosion and Jake Sullivan had blinked. When his eyes opened, the view out the front of the airship was entirely different. The sky was a gentle predawn grey instead of an evil cerulean blue. The ground far below was green, yellow, and brown, neatly blocked off into rectangular fields. In the distance, the sun was beginning to peek over purple mountains. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen as they hung there, suspended.
And then the entire airship was spinning wildly out of control.
Wind slashed through the cabin. Someone was screaming, or maybe it was the aluminum airframe coming apart. He threw out one hand and caught a jagged edge of wall. A limp body tumbled past him, but he lashed out and caught an arm. It was Faye. She hung, either unconscious or dead. He couldn't tell, and he held onto her wrist with all his strength as her legs dangled out the front of the craft. He dragged her back inside.
They were rotating, faster and faster, as they corkscrewed toward the ground.
"Hull one compromised!" Lance bellowed. Every warning light in the cabin that hadn't been broken was flashing red. An alarm sounded. "Hull two bleeding helium fast."
Francis struggled over to the radio. He picked up the end of the horn and cranked the charge wheel. "Mayday! Mayday! This is airship UBF Tempest. We're going down. We're-" He stopped. "Where the hell are we?"
It didn't matter anyway. Francis just didn't realize that Sullivan had already smashed the radio. Dirigibles were not meant to go down this fast. They'd dig a pit at this speed.
Where were they? They sure as hell weren't in the middle of the Pacific. Which meant… He looked down at the skinny little Traveler in his arms. "Well, I'll be…" Was that even possible?
Barns Dalton shoved his way onto the deck, bouncing hard against a bulkhead. Sullivan was glad to see that at least some of the Bulldog Marauder's crew had been brought on board, not that it mattered much right now. The pilot managed to grab onto the back of the helmsman's chair and shouted in Lance's ear. "Let me drive!"
"Ain't nothing you can do."
"Scoot over, pops!" Barns shouted.
"Give him the stick, Lance," Sullivan stated. "He knows what he's doing."
Lance got out of the way, swaying with the blimp. "He'd better, or we're all dead."
Sullivan smiled. "Naw. I fall off blimps all the time. It ain't so bad."
Barns climbed into the chair and grabbed the controls. Sullivan could feel the magic thrumming through the ship. He didn't understand what kind of Active Barns was, but he was channeling a whole lot of Power. "Nice ride you got here," the pirate shouted. "Everybody grab hold of something. I'm taking her in." El Nido, Californi a The Tempest not only landed, it landed right side up, which wasn't bad, all things considered. Since there was only a single landing skid left, one bag was completely destroyed, and the other leaking and hissing, the airship looked drastically lopsided. It didn't help that Barns had landed them in a field filled with Holstein cows. Sullivan wondered idly if there had been any of the poor animals under the blimp when they'd hit. If so, that would be one unhappy cow.
There was a mess of wounded. Jane was running around tending to them. Even though she'd burned through most of her magic saving him from Madi a few times, she could still see right inside folks to tell exactly what was wrong with them. Dan was like her shadow. It would be awhile before the Mouth let her out of his sight.
He spit blood. Maybe if it wasn't too much trouble, and she'd taken care of everybody else first, he'd ask Jane to fix his teeth. They smarted something fierce.
Young Francis was talking to the UBF men. Apparently they were his employees now. Sullivan couldn't figure that one out, but his head hurt too bad to give it much thought. The kid was nervous, worried about the injured, and was taking the time to personally talk to every one of the company men. He'd make a good leader someday.
Some of the Bulldog Marauder's crew had made it. Lady Origami had apparently never seen a cow before, and was trying to coax one close enough so she could touch its nose. He'd heard Parker had been lost, stabbed in the back by a ninja. Bob Southunder's baldness was hidden under a bandage, but he was still up, tending to his men. The old pirate saw Sullivan watching him and came over. "Mr. Sullivan," he said formally. Barns tailed along behind him.
He nodded. "Captain Southunder… Barns."
Southunder smiled when he looked down. This was another one who was surprised to be alive. "Guess I don't have to hide and protect the Geo-Tel anymore."
"So what's your plan?"
"Why, what I do best. I do believe I'm going to go speak to that young man that apparently owns UBF and try to convince him that he owes me a new dirigible. I was just going to ask you if you wanted a job. As you can see, I've had a few positions open up."
Sullivan gave him a broken-toothed smile. "I'll have to think on that one, Captain, but thank you."
Southunder patted him on the shoulder. "I should have listened to you sooner, Mr. Sullivan. Wherever the winds carry you, take care of yourself." He walked away, and within seconds was trying to coerce a blimp out of Francis, preferably something big, fast, and armored.
Barns looked him over. "You sure you don't want to go, Sullivan. It's a lot of fun."
"Maybe one of these days… I've got some things I need to figure out first. By the way, what the hell are you?"
Barns shrugged. "I don't know if it's got a name. I didn't know I was an Active until one time I crashed during a show and hit my head really bad… It still gives me wicked headaches. You got some pocket change?" Sullivan found seven pennies, a nickel, and two dimes, which was everything he had to his name, and passed them over. Barns took them all in his hand. "Heads or tails?"
"Heads."
Barns threw them all up, then swept his other hand across quickly, snagging every one out of the air. He slapped them down on his palm, and then held it out for Sullivan to see. All but one of them was heads. "Just lucky, I guess. I have a way of making things work out."
Sullivan pointed at the one penny showing tails. "What about that guy?"
The young man grinned. Southunder was calling for him. "I guess you can't win them all. It wouldn't be an adventure if you could… See you around, Sullivan."
There was still a lot to learn about magic.
After the pilot had left, Sullivan closed his eyes and went back to resting under the shade of the Tempest's broken wing. Jane had Mended him, but he could still feel the wounds. Most men would still be incoherent with pain, but he was used to it. Him and pain were old pals.
He opened his eyes to see Lance Talon and Heinrich Koenig standing over him. Lance scratched his beard. "Just thought you'd want to know, Faye's still out."
Sullivan sat up, groaning. "Jane know what's wrong with her?"
"Nothing, far as she can tell. Nothing physical at least. I've heard of Actives putting themselves in a coma, using too much Power," Lance was concerned. He'd taken a real liking to that girl. "I'll let you know."
"I'd appreciate that. She saved my life."
"Saved us all," Lance said. "Hell, from what I heard, she maybe did in the Chairman. In that case that crazy Okie probably saved the whole world. Kill the Chairman…" He snorted. "I never figured she'd keep that promise!" Lance limped up the ramp, laughing as he went.
Heinrich was still there, not speaking. His face was nearly as grey as his ripped up coat. "Yeah? Spit it out, Fritz."
The Fade smiled as he sat down on the remains of the landing gear. "I am supposed to give you something. When we boarded the Tokugawa, Delilah knew she was not coming back.
" Heinrich held out a Grimnoir ring.
Sullivan didn't take it. "That her father's?"
"No. She kept that one. Said she was intending to earn it. This is Pershing's. I picked it up after you threw it down. When I'd told her what happened, she made me promise to make you take it back." He held it out. Sullivan took it slowly. "She was very adamant."
"Delilah and her promises…" he said softly as he curled his fingers around the little piece of black and gold. And Sullivan always kept his promises. He would not let her down this time. That was the end of it. "Sorry, got something in my eye."
Heinrich rose. "She was a remarkable woman. I've known thousands who shared her final curse, and only the very best of them were strong enough to think of anyone other than themselves… I offered to end her suffering, but she wanted her death to have meaning… I must go check on Faye."
Meaning. He'd survived Rockville. He could survive anything.
Sullivan shoved the ring back on his pinky.
Faye was in the place with the big glowing thing in the sky, which was apparently what the Power looked like in real life, two big shapes stuck together, all made of bunches of little complicated shapes, with dangling arms connecting to every Active in the world. It still reminded her of that drawing of a jellyfish that she'd seen in a book. Instead of Mr. Sullivan's wasteland from the big war, she was sitting on a haystack, watching the cows wander in on their own from the corral because they knew it was milking time. Crows were landing on the barn roof, and the air smelled like it had just rained, and above it all was the Power. Her place was a lot nicer than Mr. Sullivan's.
The last time she'd been here, in the dream world, not on the Vierra farm, she'd thought that this was hell, and she'd been condemned there for breaking the commandment about not killing folks. Well, since then, she'd killed so many people that she'd lost track, but they'd all been bad, and she'd done it all with her God-given abilities, so she figured her and God were square.
Her body was back in the real world, but she'd fried her brain map like an egg. She did not know if she would ever wake up. Might as well get comfy.
She watched the Power for a while, as it consumed the magic of the Actives who died. The Power had planted the seeds, the Actives had grown the crop, and now it was time to harvest. The Power wasn't scary. It was just a big critter. It wasn't good, or bad. It just wanted to live, same as anything else, and it did it through people like her. It was silly to be scared of the Power. In fact, it was scared itself. She could see that now. Something bad and hungry was hunting it, and the Power was afraid.
"You see it too, Traveler?"
The Chairman was sitting on another bale of hay, dressed in a robe just like when she'd seen him last, only he had his hands back. "No fair, I thought you was dead."
"I am." The Chairman turned his head, and she could see right through him. She should have been scared of ghosts, but she wasn't. Nothing could hurt her here, in the place where the dead came to dream. He bowed his head slightly. "Congratulations."
"You shouldn't have killed my Grandpa. Serves you right."
"Revenge is as good a motive as any. Nobler by far than most," the haunt said. He went back to the Power. "I tried to prepare the world, to create a society that would be ready. I failed. Now what will you do without me?"
Faye thought about it. She knew he was talking about the other thing, the hungry thing. "When it shows up… it'll get dealt with."
"You will need to be strong. Stronger than you are now. Perhaps in the future you will look back and regret your decisions, but I doubt that. May I leave you my final poem?"
"Sure." "A second sun at night from the ocean consuming Life as oars to water leaving no trace behind."
"Pretty," Faye said.
"Farewell, Traveler." The Chairman's form dissipated on the wind.
Epilogue
Now is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
– Winston Churchill, longtime critic of the Imperium upon hearing of Chairman Okubo Tokugawa's demise, 1932 New York City, New York 3 Months Later He had to admit, this really was a pretty spectacular office. From the top of the Chrysler Building he could see the dirigibles docking at the Empire State Building, and every inch of the place was pure, polished opulence. "I've got to hand it to the old coot. He certainly knew how to live."
"Yes, Mr. Stuyvesant," the new UBF vicepresident of finance said as he flopped onto the overstuffed leather couch. "You know why your grandfather used to say that he liked this building the best?"
Francis Cornelius Stuyvesant II turned from the glass wall, picked up the bottle of fine wine from his marble desk, and walked over. "No, why is that, Mr. Chandler?"
The accountant laughed as he held out the empty glass. "He said it was because it was pointy." Francis poured him another refill. "Can you believe that?"
He sat on the couch, uncomfortable in his new tuxedo. He'd inherited the most powerful company in the world. He'd gone toe to toe with the most dangerous wizard in history. He'd survived direct hits from two Tesla superweapons. He was a telekinetic and also happened to be a member of a magical secret society. "I can believe just about anything."
Chandler inhaled the drink in one gulp and gave a contented sigh. "Well, now that we've gotten the legal aspects taken care of, and all the papers are signed, UBF is all yours, Francis." The accountant usually only called him by his first name after he'd had a few too many. "What're you going to do now?"
Francis swirled the wine around but didn't really feel like drinking. "I don't know… I've got so much responsibility. I can run this company the way I always thought it should have been run."
The accountant shook his head. "I meant about the other thing."
The five UBF men who'd survived the Tokugawa had all been paid buckets of money and sworn to secrecy. "Well, in the papers I'm a famous billionaire playboy. I suppose it isn't really practical for the head of UBF to go out and battle evil… Hmmm… Maybe I could wear a disguise when I fulfill my Grimnoir duties… Like a mask or something."
"That is perhaps the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Chandler laughed. "You're a hoot."
Francis grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, that is pretty ridiculous. So, what are your plans now that everything is under control?"
"Me? I'm a bookkeeper who drinks too much, is always in a foul mood, and hates coming to work. But since you're paying me lots of money because of my refreshing honesty, I'm not going anywhere." He stood and walked to the door, but paused on his way out. "Though I have given some thought to trying my hand at writing…"
Francis chuckled. "Good night, Ray." The accountant gave a little salute with two fingers and closed the door behind him. It was a rare man you could trust with either a Thompson or a general ledger. Francis stayed on the couch, enjoying being alone and the quiet lights of the city. "It's been a long day…" he muttered to himself.
"No kidding!" Faye said as she appeared directly in front of him.
"Gah!" he spilled the wine all over his pants. "Don't do that!"
Faye clucked disapprovingly and put her hands on her hips. "It ain't my fault you don't have a head map. Sheesh. Look at that, you're gonna be all stained."
It was then that he realized Faye was wearing an honest-to-goodness evening dress. And her hair was done up. And she was wearing jewelry. And lipstick? How scandalous. "I… I…" He was speechless. "Well…"
"Yeah, I do clean up pretty good, huh?" Faye smiled. "Jane helped me." She twirled for him. "Not bad for a hick, huh?"
"Not bad at all," he answered truthfully.
She beamed at the compliment. "Like I was saying though, super long day. Rumor is that there's Iron Guards up to something in Alabama, and Lance is gonna go check it out, but then some Active kids got rounded up by a mob for nothing but being Active since folks are still all riled up at us, and they're having a sham trial, so Heinrich's going down there to help 'em, and Jane and Dan's wedding is coming up next w
eek, and they said you have to come, don't care how busy you are, and Mr. Browning says hello from France, and his telegram said that he'd be honored to be in charge of the American knights, but the stupid elders still won't give up Mr. Rawls, and still nobody knows where Mr. Sullivan went off to but he said it was real important so it must be, and that reminds me, Mr. Southunder called and said thanks for the new fancy blimp, and-"
Francis put his finger on her lips. Nothing stopped Faye when her head got to spinning. "We're going to be late for the play."
"I can fix that real quick!"
He was hesitant. After she'd Traveled an entire dirigible, Faye had slept for a week straight. Her Power had been severely overtaxed, nearly burned out, and she was still recovering. It turned out that even Faye had limits. "Can't we take the elevator?"
Faye's grey eyes twinkled. The Traveler may only have worked her way back up to a small part of the magic she'd tapped during the battle, but nothing could keep Faye down for long. She took his hand. "Elevators are for chumps!"
Glossary of Magical Terms From the notes of Jake Sullivan, 1932
A
Active-The catch-all term for people with magical abilities. Specifically those who have strong enough connections to the Power to utilize their ability at will and with a greater degree of control than a Passive. Actives vary in the amount of Power available to them, with some being more naturally gifted than others. The conventional wisdom has always been that Actives are only able to use one type of Power. Actively Magical-Old-fashioned term for Active. Angel of Death-(see Pale Horse)
B
Burner-(see Torch) Beastie-Similar to Dolittle, but stronger, with the added ability to control animals telepathically. Extreme cases can actually put part of their consciousness into the creature and fully control it, including broadcasting the Beastie's speech, etc. There have been some rumors of Beasties capable of controlling human beings, but that may be antimagic propaganda. Beastman-(see Beastie) Boomer-Unknown type of Active. The Special Prisoners' Wing guards at Rockville mentioned holding one of these in solitary confinement in a special lead-lined chamber. Brute-One of the most common of all Magicals. Brutes channel Power through their bodies, increasing their physical strength and toughness. They must work up to greater feats of strength. If too much Power is used too quickly, severe injuries or death can occur. They have been banned from professional sports in most countries, but there is always work available for a Brute.
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