“Yes, they interned themselves to make it easier for us to transport,” he said, smiling while simultaneously removing his boots. He leaned back in the chair and sighed.
Persi strode across the room and stood in front of a clothes closet, “What were those things that attacked Nicholas,” she said, absentmindedly lifting the latches of her black and red calf-skin bodice. “I mean really? Surely not just machines, have you ever heard of such?”
He stood and walked up behind her, encircling her with his arms and resting his chin on her neck. “I don’t know, love of my life, perhaps the Nightwalkers can shed some light on them. More to the point, what was the power they emitted that was of such force as to travel through the atmosphere to kill poor Mister Guzman two-hundred feet above?”
“Yes, horrible,” Persi said. “It almost has the stench of something in that horrible book we have. But I have seen nothing of the sort in its pages.”
Boots stepped back and began to undress. “Well, we will sleep for a few hours, then speak with our friends.”
“Yes,” she said turning now only in her chemise, having dropped the bodice in the seat of a nearby chair, while slipping the dress over a hook in the closet. “You will not have trouble sleeping with them at the foot of our bed.”
Boots yawned, now comfortably between the sheets. “My dear, they have slept with us before.”
She smiled, “You are correct, I’m sure,” then climbed into the bed, beside him. “Good night my dear.”
Boots snored in reply.
It was 12 o’clock when they were awakened by a knock on the door. “Yes?” Boots asked.
“Your wife asked for a wake-up call,” a young voice said through the door, “this is it.”
“Thank you. Where shall we join the Captain for lunch?”
“She request you come to her cabin. Take a left out this door, first ladder to your right, a right down the passageway to the end. She will expect you at 1 o’clock.”
“Left, right, right, got it,” Boots said.
They listened as foots steps faded. “Boots, what time is it?” Persi asked.
Boots reached into his waistcoat and withdrew his watch. “Twelve-o-four.”
“That is about an hour later than I asked,” Persi said.
“Yes, perhaps something occurred with the ship. Regardless, we had a good rest, and now we’ve been awakened. Would you like the water closet first, or shall I?” Boots asked.
Persi lay in bed, still tucked under the covers. “Please by all mean, I will wait until your ablutions are completed to your satisfaction.”
Boots smiled, “Very well, but do not close your eyes. I will be done in fifteen minutes and if you fall back asleep you will be cranky when you reawaken.”
Persi’s face appeared above the covers, “I will be what?”
Boots heard the tone and corrected quickly, “You will be as radiant and joyful as usual, my love.”
“Hmm,” she said before slipping back down into the soft warm bed.
An hour later, after waking Persi again, deflecting the jibes and snide comments, and waiting on her to wash and dress, they stood at the door to the Captain’s cabin. Before they could knock, the door was opened by Julius, the young steward they met during the dinner on the deck.
“Please come in, we are just serving the soup,” he said.
Boots looked at Persi, eyes narrowed, knowing she was the reason they were late.
The Captain stood, as did her officers, some with full soup spoons. “Please join us,” she said, directing them to seats at the end of the table. She smiled, “It is said that if you cannot arrive on time, at least arrive sometime.”
“Yes, apologies for our tardiness, your beds are very comfortable and it took us some time to extricate ourselves from them,” Boots said.
“Oh?” the Captain asked, one side of her mouth tipping up, “is that what they call it in the United States?”
Her staff, sitting around the table chuckled.
Persi blushed, “I say, we ...”
Boots laid a hand across hers, his turn to give her, ‘the look.’ “This soup, it smells delicious, a squash of some kind?” he asked.
“Indeed,” Genevieve said, allowing the diversion. “It is Crema de Calabaza, made with the Calabaza squash. Years ago I obtained some seeds and now plant it every year.”
“Very tasty,” he said.
“I’m glad you like it, but now to business. I have invited you to sit at my table in your capacity as professional intelligencers.” She took a sip of wine before continuing, “And, I believe you also have some knowledge in the area of matters of the occult.”
Persi and Boots also looked at each other.
“I would appreciate it if you listen to the Commander. I think it will be useful to your overall endeavor.”
“We are more than willing to listen to what Mister Burke has to say,” Boots said.
Persi nodded her affirmation.
“Go ahead then, Mister Burke,” Boots said, “You have information that will change our world?”
The Commander set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair allowing Julius to remove his plate and replace it with a dish that carried a mild fish smell. It was covered with a light colored sauce. “I believe I do,” he said. “Those mechanicals that attacked us and killed your man. I don’t believe they were completely steam powered and full of gears. They contained a Nosferatu, a vampire, that was somehow connected to the machine.”
Neither Persi nor Boots could speak. They looked at Burke and then at Genevieve believing they would all break out in laughter in the next moment.
“He is serious?” Boots asked finally.
“Without seeming too dramatic,” Genevieve said, “he is deadly serious.”
“Go on then, sir, you have our attention.” Persi said, stabbing at the fish but not eating it.
“One of the mechanicals fell from the catwalk during the rescue, when I glanced over the side, I saw the mechanical was more like a frame, or a suit of armor and it had burst and exposed a Nosferatu. Light in the room was not bright but, I could make out the shattered mechanical thing with what appeared to be a vampire hanging half out of the contraption. There was this sickly pale green-white glow coming from the machine, and movement, like shadows, around the wreckage.”
“The Nosferatu can withstand a lot of abuse, didn’t that one just jump up and walk away?”
“No mum, not that I saw,” Burke said.
The agents looked at each other. “Not good,” Persi said.
“I believe that may be an understatement, my dear,” Boots replied.
“And there is the matter of Mister Guzman,” Genevieve said. “Those mechanicals discharged a burst of energy that killed my equipment operator. Mister Corbano says that our machine must have amplified the energy but that this is impossible, that aether does not act in this way.”
“It is not an energy like lightning,” Corbano said from the Captain’s right. “Remember, a human body can contain high amounts of aether. It is completely normal.”
“Hmm,” Persi said, non-committal while accepting a plate of roasted meat with an assortment of root vegetables. “Perhaps our friends below can shed some light?” she said, glancing at Boots.
“Yes, they interacted with them, and were in the room during the discharge. I suggest we take up this discussion again in,” he glanced up at the clock near him, “five hours. Until then let’s enjoy the delightful meal our hostess has had prepared for us.” He lifted his glass to Genevieve.
She smiled, nodded and returned the toast. Her officers also joined, raising their glasses.
Chapter 48 – The Nightwalkers Report
Boots was at the navigation station on the Swan’s bridge when Jane, John and Aiyana entered. Their faces displaying the soft smile that was always present, as if it had been tattooed across their faces by one of the Pacific Islanders. They projected calm, however there was something else, he felt it through their stare
, an intensity in their eyes.
They approached him, Jane leading. “Mr. Beacon,” she began.
Boots held up his hand, “Boots, please.”
She smiled, “Yes, Boots, we must speak, perhaps on the upper deck. We slept well in the trunks but could use some fresh air.”
“Certainly, is this about the rescue, because some of the others would like to listen,” Boots asked.
“To some extent but as your agents we would like you to hear our report. Afterward, we will give it again to as many others as you wish.”
“Yes, I see. It is a good thought.” He called a messenger to them. “Please let the Captain know our Nightwalker guests are awake, that I am listening to their report, and that we will meet with her and her staff once I have heard their report.”
“Yes sir,” the messenger said, and moved away before them.
Boots led the trio to the upper deck. It was a warm evening, the glow of the sun barely noticeable as it disappeared to the west. When they had scooted chairs around a small table, Jane spoke, “First, how are Mister Morris and young Master Nicholas?”
“Our cook should recover, probably up from his bed tomorrow. Broken ribs, some lacerations and bruises, but otherwise fine.” Boots looked at the deck for an instant. “Nicholas didn’t survive.”
The vampires looked at each other. “We saw him carried to the roof.”
“Yes, but he was dead already, crushed by one of the mechanical men if I understood the report correctly.”
“I am,” she hesitated, “we are sorry to hear that.”
Boots nodded, “Not your fault for certain. He turned and attacked the mechanicals to secure time for the others.”
John nodded. “We will honor him in our way.”
The others nodded.
This turn of phrase seemed important to Boots but was unsure of its significance. “We were able to watch your progress by way of a machine here on the Swan, but could not see everything, or ‘hear’ anything for that matter. Please fill me in, starting from the time you found the room where our men were held.”
They looked at each other, then John began. “We entered the warehouse, from three sides, meeting at the room. We stayed outside the door for several minutes, listening. There was discussion, as well as argument.”
Aiyana spoke up. “Some didn’t want to go to a place called, Kifuka in the Congo, and I smelled fear.”
Jane nodded, “Yes, some were afraid and ...”
John interrupted, “To be more accurate, all were afraid, some more afraid than others.”
“What kind of place could this Kifuka be to make one so afraid?” Boots asked, thinking aloud.
“Oh, they weren’t all afraid because of the place in the Africa,” Aiyana said. “They were all afraid of the mechanical men standing along the wall.”
“It was an odd kind of fear, more like the fear we sense when the Nosferatu hunt,” she continued. “We can sense it for several miles, or rather, I can, through the thing they are hunting.” She closed her eyes. “It is the kind of fear a trapped animal feels when it has given up hope, a terrifying fear. The fear that makes one unable to move or think correctly.”
“It was one of the things that allowed us so easy a victory when we attacked,” John said. “I think in Nosferatu form, it added to their fear and they panicked.”
The women nodded. “Only two did not have that fear but they slipped out a door when the fighting started,” Jane said. “We would have retrieved them but the mechanicals attacked and I knew we needed to get your men and leave.”
“Jane and I lifted the men,” Aiyana said, “while John tried to draw the mechanicals away from the door.”
“Yes,” Boots said, clapping his hands together. “Yes, at this point something happened, didn’t it? In our control room, there was a flash of light and the man operating the viewing machine was killed. The light came from the mechanicals as you attacked.”
Jane looked at the other two, “This confirms what we felt.” She looked back at Boots, “It was the same type of feeling when you opened that leather folder, the writings of the Elder gods.”
“And some of what I felt when I snuck into the compound in Colorado,” Aiyana joined.
“Are you aware the mechanicals are suits that contain a Nosferatu?” Boots asked.
All heads jerked to stare at him. Jane stood as did John, and his skin begin to ripple and lower guttural growl rolled from between his lips. Aiyana acted the complete opposite. Tears began to well up and she bowed her head and cried.
“Calm down, especially you, John, sit.” Boots said keeping his voice steady but firmly and pointing to the chair. “Tell me what it all means.”
They regained control and sat. Aiyana spoke first. “You humans do not understand about our wild brethren. You see the Nosferatu as evil beings, stalking humans, tearing them apart ...” She paused to wipe her eyes again. “They are not like that.”
Boots shook his head, “But my dear, they are exactly like that. By your own admission, and based on what we have seen ourselves.”
Jane cleared her throat, “I think Aiyana means, it is more complicated than that.”
“Yes, exactly, thank you.” Aiyana said. “There is also innocence. They are not ‘evil,’ not in the sense you speak. Your use of the word, ‘evil’ speaks of will and intent. The Nosferatu do not operate at that level, they do what they do because of basic instincts. When a bear attacks a human, you do not say the bear is evil. Its mind tells it to kill, and it does. It is because they are not evil that we believe we can change them, to make them less dangerous, even integrate them given time. This Lightning Lord is using them, introducing them to evil, which is counter to our goals, this is why I cry. He is condemning them.” This last part she said, raising her voice. Her head dropped into her hands and she began to cry again.
John, who had regained his composure, said, “And it is not just that our people are being exposed to the power of the Elder gods, for this man’s evil intent, but he is also giving those ancient terrors a point of cross-over, a potential foot hold in this world.”
“He must be stopped,” Jane said.
“Oh, that is for sure, and we will certainly try to make that happen, given the chance,” Boots said.
“Let me say it clearer,” Jane said, standing again. “This changes things. It is clear to us now that this Lightning Lord is attempting to take over countries with this technology Mister Tesla has created for him, but he is also attempting to re-establish the rule of the Elder gods.”
Chapter 49 – The Daedalus Fights its Way Out
The cargo door of the Daedalus rose, just as the Icarus entered the hold, literally jumping off the ramp and skidding to a stop mere inches from the wall. A bullet ricocheted over Joseph’s head, making him recall the day he hired on as a sooty.
“After working on those Landliners,” Perry had said, shaking his hand, “you might consider this job boring.”
Joseph smiled. Hasn’t been boring so far.
Crabapple Smith, the Senior Apprentice Engineman, jumped from the Icarus, aimed his .38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver, back over the car and shot a man from the ramp. The man, one of the several bent on taking control of the Daedalus, fell backwards out the door, dropping the pistol as he attempted to keep his balance. The gun clattered forward into the hold as the door rose further.
“That one’s yours,” Smith said to Joseph in his deep southern accent, as the cargo bay door closed, flooding the space with darkness.
“Geesh, Smith, with that dark skin of yours you just went invisible.” Joseph said.
A small lamp near the cargo door actuation lever cast shadows about the deck. “That’s why they called me the ‘Shade’ during the war,” Smith said, “Couldn’t see me, then it was too late.”
“I think you mean, they couldn’t see you ‘until’ it was too late,” Joseph corrected.
“Is that what you think? Well, sir, that’s not what I meant. They didn’
t see me then they were dead.” He squinted, at the gun, now in Joseph’s hand. “Looks like a .38, if so, I got bullets for it.” He holstered his own pistol. “Now I’m go’n topside to see if Harper needs some help with the 50s. You go to the Engine room and make sure they don’t need you, and if they don’t come up on deck and help me.”
Joseph nodded and headed forward, while Smith sprang across the hold and up the ladder. When all was quiet, a latch on the storage compartment of the velocitor snapped open and the lid lifted. A shadowy figure crawled from the trunk, then reached back in and lifted a large bag. Setting it on the floor with a clank, he gently shut the trunk lid, and slid into the shadows, then disappeared up the ladder to the main deck.
Stepping through the hatch to the upper deck, Smith heard the steady thump of the .50 caliber Burlington gas-powered repeating rifle manned by junior boiler man, Benjamin Harper. They called them “slug-throwers” in the Army, but he had only seen a few near the end of the war. The Daedalus had two which could be fixed to port and starboard mounts forward and aft. Currently, they were both mounted aft, with Harper operating the port mount. The one on the starboard side had been fired by Joshua Haskins, a new sooty, but Haskins had taken a bullet to the shoulder and was seated on the deck, slumped against the aft bulwark, unconscious.
Smith ran to the unmanned gun, checking on Haskins before cycling the bolt. He grabbed a tube and shouted into it. “We got injured on deck.” He dropped the tube back in the holder and aimed down the barrel of rifle, centered on a man with a rifle shooting at them from behind some of their crated furniture. He pulled the trigger and part of the wooden crate splintered into two-dozen pieces, throwing the man to the ground. The crate rocked off its position and fell onto the shooter. Smith smiled, jacking another cartridge into the gun and looking for his next target.
Mister Perry’s voice erupted from the Engine room tube. “Lifting in 4, 3, 2 ... emergency disengaging mooring cables.” Small pops sounded from around the ship as Perry yanked on the trigger cord, tripping the explosive bolts. The cables holding the ship to the mooring tower sheared and the Daedalus began to rise.
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