The Lightning Lord

by Anthony Faircloth

  “Tibbs,” he said, looking at a small weasely man, “We’re gonna need two door knockers.”

  Tibbs smiled and dug through his pockets until finally handing Burke two devices that looked like fashionable dog bones. Two silver dollar-sized balls were connected by a short copper bar. Protruding from the end of one ball was a small wire attached to a hook.

  Burke held one of the objects up to Boots. “You attach the hook, then pull the device down the until the length of cord equals the amount of time before explosion- one quarter inch per minute up to 6 minutes. When you let it go, gears in the ball wind the string back and when it reaches the hook, bam.”

  Boots nodded.

  He gave both devices to Boots. “We open the door as wide as possible. You’re a little smaller so you reach through, clip them onto the mechanical, set them for a minute – a quarter inch - and step back. They should kill the thing as well as propel it forward, away from the door. We will then burst through and do what we do.”

  “Sounds ...” Boots hesitated.

  “Stupid?” Burke suggested.

  “Well, no.” Boots said.

  “Got a better one?”

  Boots thought for a minute then shook his head.

  “Right,” Burke said and looked down the line of men. “Guns check, prepare for deployment.”

  His men spread out and ran through all their pre-battle checks until they stood still, their rifles across their chests, apparently a sign the man was ready. Within two minutes, all his men stood in the ready position. Starting at the man furthest from the door he glanced over him and nodded, “Left,” he said. He looked at the next man, nodded and said, “Right,” to the third man he said, “Forward,” then, “Left,’ to the forth and so on until he got to Boots. “You may do as you wish but I would ask you focus on bringing that bastard and his bitch woman to their proper end. My men and I will fan out and attempt to keep them all busy while you do what you need to.”

  Boots nodded, “Agreed.”

  The Commander held out his hand, “Mister Beacon, I fully intend to sit down to pint with you when we’re back on the Swan, but if not, it’s been an honor and a pleasure.”

  Boots smiled and took his hand. “I shall see you back on the Swan for that pint.” He looked back at the other men and touched his forehead in salute.

  The men returned it with a nod.

  “Alright men, line up,” Burke said. His men, already in a line, approached the door.

  Burke, his hand on the doorknob, cracked it open and pushed forward slowly. Though the mechanical still stood in the way, it had moved forward and the door opened enough for Boots to step through entirely.

  He took a step to the soldier, slipped the hooks of the doorknockers over tubes on each side of the suit and prepared to pull the cords. A loud voice exploded, echoing off all the metal and glass surfaces, though there was even a sense that he heard the voice IN his head.

  “Gods of agelessness, thou art welcome here, in what was and is once again, your domain.”

  Boots looked up to the platform where Narcissa stood, arms spread.

  The door, slammed shut and Boots flipped a glance at it, then back to the room as several of the lab-coated men pulled levers. A loud pop sounded followed by the hum of large amounts of electrical current, even louder than what he’d heard coming from the lamps in Colorado.

  “Venit ad nos, maior deos!” Narcissa repeated over and over.

  Lightning bolts erupted from the array of small ceramic balls at the top of each tower and connected in a pulsing ring of wild electricity. As he watched, a fog began to form in the center of the four towers, obscuring the glass ceiling, then blackened into something like a thick smoke, then into something more solid, finally becoming transparent showing a dark night sky. For an instant, Boots thought the cloud had dissolved the window frames and panes for nothing disrupted his view of the sky and stars. Suddenly he had a thought and pulled at his watch fob. Retrieving the timepiece, he clicked open the cover and saw the time, the hands told him two things. One, it was six o’clock in the morning, which lead to the second revelation, the stars in the night sky at which he was looking did not shine over Kifuka, Congo.

  Chapter 61 –Persi Implements Her Own Plan

  “Sunrise in one minute, Captain.” Bull yelled from the Navigation station

  “Very well, Mister Bull,” she said while swinging her legs from the chair to the floor. “Distance to target?”

  “One quarter mile, ma’am. You should be able to see it out the window to your left.”

  Genevieve stepped forward and looked out the large control room window. A large castle-like complex sat half way up a mountain peak. Even in the dawn’s early light, she could see that the roof of a large building was glowing. Stepping to Ships Control, she lifted a tube. “Engine room, all head full.” She dropped the tube back into the rack and picked up a second, “Man battle stations. Gunners, ready all cannons. Lookout, watch for their airship. She’s out there, I can feel her.”

  No sooner had she dropped the tube into the rack, then the ship shuttered.

  “Second deck to Bridge, we’ve been hit,” a voice erupted from a tube.

  “Captain, airship at 1-9-0 relative. She’s broadside and preparing to fire.”

  “Engine room, all ahead emergency. Helm, make your course 0-1-0. Ships Control, all rise, take us to thirty-thousand feet. Aft gunner, charge the Burlington and shoot at will, perhaps you will be a distraction and buy us time to get into position.”

  A second explosive vibration rocked the Swan.

  “Left port stabilizer is gone, Captain,” the voice reported.

  “Hell,” Genevieve yelled, and stomped her feet like a bad-tempered schoolchild. She picked up a tube, “Horizon, launch. Battle plan, Coconut Palm.”

  “Aye, Captain, good luck,” a voice replied.

  Within the seconds, a burst of steam surrounded the Swan, a cloak of a kind, meant to provide camouflage as the Horizon left its moorings. With any luck, it would hide in its own cloud until it was safely away.

  “Captain, this is Smith on the aft Burlington, I may have hit something important. The other ship seems to be slowing and losing altitude.”

  “Well done Mister Smith. Keep up the good work.”

  “Ships Control, report,” she yelled.

  The Chief of the Watch, Paisley, raised his voice, “Helm’s steering course 0-2-0, engines are all full emergency, altitude is twenty-one thousand feet and climbing.”

  “Very well,” Genevieve said. “Helm come to 1-1-0, starboard gunner, prepare to fire a broadside.” She turned to Bull, “Maybe we will not need to take such a beating.” An evil grin spread across her face, “I mean, really, their gunners are quite good.”

  “Captain, Lookout reports the aggressor is on a steep climb.” Bull said, hanging up a speaking tube. “Apparently, they are back on track.”

  “Very well, Navigator. Chief Paisley, launch an orange flare.”

  “Aye, Captain,” the Chief of the Watch said standing. He pulled a cord dangling from the overhead. A pop sounded above. “The flare is away, Captain.”

  “Very well,” She said, grabbing a tube, “Lookout, keep an eye on the aggressor, report on any activity. Starboard gunners, report.”

  The voice of the Chief Gunner blasted through the tube, “Starboard gunners ready for full volley, all twelve guns loaded and targeted.”

  “Fire at will,” Genevieve ordered.

  The ship shifted to port a couple of feet as the all cannons exploded and sent their balls toward the target. Those not seated or holding on, fell to the deck.

  “Lookout reports six hits, two direct to the top deck, with penetration,” Bull reported. “And, the Horizon has fired. Three cygnet rockets have hit and smoke is coming from the airship. They are dead in the air.”

  “Excellent,” the Captain yelled and picked up a tube, “Starboard gunners, one round on me at our next port of call.” Helm, make your course 1-2-0. Ship
s Control, maintain altitude. Starboard gunners, reload and prepare for another volley. Engine room, all ahead full.”

  The crew responded and a vibration rippled through the ship as it slowed and turned, keeping its broadside toward the damaged aggressor. The Captain picked up a speaking tube. “Boatswain, prepare another orange flare.”

  Genevieve walked to the window, now able to see the smoking vessel ahead of them. She picked up a tube, “Starboard gunners, the aggressor gets one chance to surrender, else fully volley at point blank range.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” the Chief Gunner replied.

  She smiled, knowing her gunners were poised to light fuses, and hoping the aggressor flinched. She looked out the window into brightening morning sky, and then had a thought. She turned to the Navigation plot, “Mister Bull, where is Miss Shuttleworth?”

  ****

  Persi had reached the ships hold where the Commander’s escape hatches were located. Searching through the lockers, she found one of what he had called, ‘Tactical Uniforms,’ complete with socks, boots and waistcoat. In another locker, she found several rifles and pistols. Since she carried her own pistols, she only removed a rifle and a kit that appeared to contain ammunition.

  After speedily removing her clothes, she slipped into the uniform and had just fastened the last button when she heard a voice. “Meriwether ain’t gonna like you wearing his clothes. He’s of a particular sort.”

  A large Boatswain stood in the door, his hand on a pistol that was stuck through his belt.

  “Perhaps not, but I have some important information I must get to the team below. Might you help?”

  Something in his gregarious smile sent a chill down her spine. “I’d certainly be happy to help you back out of them clothes.”

  No matter how noble the crew, there was always one or two that did not fit in. Apparently, she had found one of the two. “Well, I might as well be honest with you.” She pointed between them, “You and I will never be a thing.”

  He smiled again, his teeth reminding her of a dirty picket fence in disrepair. “I don’t intend for us to be a ‘thing’ little girl. I had my eye on you since you got on, thinking how much I wanted you but how hard it would be to get you, and now looky here. You just over there, wait’n on me, and if later, when someone finds your clothes and a hatch door open, how they gonna trace it back to me?”

  “Oh, I see,” Persi said, absolutely knowing this would not work out as he imagined in his lecherous mind. Maybe, she thought, I can get something from him before I have to put him down for the rabid dog he is. “So my cooperation is not required?”

  “Oh no, in fact, I kinda likes it when they fight. There was this whore in Liverpool, when I was on a merchant ship few years ago, she must only been ‘bout thirteen or so, but she was spunky. It took me a whole fifteen minutes to get her laid out properly and even then it wasn’t ‘till I was done and bored, and slit her throat, until she finally shut her damn mouth. I took a blue ribbon she wore around her neck before I cut her. You know, to remember her? I got it with the others in a nice little box under my bunk.”

  Persi knew this story was intended to intimidate her and that it wasn’t going to work. She decided she would not shoot him, he deserved so much more. She walked towards him, moving a rope aside and stepping over a hatch. She reached behind her, finding the handle of her throwing knife where it rested in a sheath built into the tactical waistcoat. “Well, perhaps you won’t find me any easier.”

  “I think you can stop right there, since I be in charge here,” he said reaching for his gun.

  The barrel hadn’t clear his belt when her knife embedded itself in his hand. Actually, it penetrated through his hand and dirty cotton shirt, and into his stomach. The next thing he saw was her fist, then black.

  He awoke several minutes later upside down, his head a few inches above an open hatch. He screamed.

  “Now, now, no screaming,” she said, swinging a huge weighted knot, the item they used to transfer lines between ships. It caught him in the groin and his mouth opened to allow only the smallest of squeaks to escape. “Since I have not fully decided what I will do with you, perhaps there is room for you to get into my good graces. I need some information, if I find your answers helpful, it will add weight to my decisions.” Persi had pulled the knife from the boatswain’s hand and was now dragging it across the crotch of his pants. “So you will understand the amount of patience and mercy I have already shown you, I need to show you what I am capable of. I am not normally of a sadistic nature, but I don’t consider the death of a demented animal something that needs a great deal of mercy.” She stepped away from him. “These are called ‘monkey fists’ are they not.”

  The man nodded, blood from the wound in his gut crawled up his neck toward his chin.

  She pulled her arm back and hammered his groin again. This time he screamed.

  When he had stopped, she asked, “Are you ready to help me?”

  He nodded.

  “Very well, other than dropping down these lines, is there another way for a single person to leave the ship?”

  His look, even upside down, told her there was.

  “Yes, and what is it?”

  When he didn’t respond fast enough, she drew the monkey fist back, hit him again, though this time it was higher, and didn’t achieve the same intensity of pain as the other strikes.

  “Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “The aerovelocitor, over there in that white locker.”

  Persi turned and opened the locker to discover a device similar to the one their ex-cook, Lady Regina, had used to escape. She removed it from the locker and read directions written on a plaque affixed to the frame. She added water to the boiler and distilled spirits to the firebox used to heat the boiler. Before she could light the wick, Genevieve spoke from the door.

  “Interesting,” she said, as a second man peered through the door behind her. “It appears my boatswain, is hanging upside down over an open hatch and bleeding from his hand and elsewhere. By the expression on his face, I don’t think he is finding this game pleasurable and so I must ask why.”

  “Before I answer, please send your man there to this man’s berth. Under it, he will find a box, have it brought here.”

  “Captain, this bitch is crazy. She ...” A monkey fist to his groin stopped his words but started a whimper.

  “Language sir,” Persi said.

  Several seconds past and just as Genevieve was about to ask Persi to give her an explanation of her actions, the man arrived with two boxes.

  “There were two, I didn’t know which.”

  “Open them both,” Persi said.

  “No!” the man yelled, but this time she didn’t bother hitting him.

  The first box was indeed full of ribbons, around thirty, as well as a few inexpensive women’s trinkets, even a small doll. “Your man here has informed me that each ribbon in this box represents a young woman he has abducted, abused sexually, tortured, and finally murdered. He told me this after threatening to make me one of them.” She held out the doll, then threw it into the box, and turned away disgusted and nauseous. She bent and lit the firebox of the aerovelocitor.

  Standing again, she saw Genevieve bending over the second box which had only a few women’s undergarments. “More trophies?” Persi asked the man.

  Genevieve reached into the box and pulled one of them out, something red, and made of silk. “I thought I had lost this,” she said, “We had stopped to resupply and I went into town to visit a ... a friend, when I returned to my room I noticed it was gone.” She looked at the man dangling next to her. “Bill, you took this from me, from my room?” When he didn’t speak, she kicked him in the chest, knocking the air from him and starting him swinging, the rope creaking against the timber with every pass. When he could breathe again she asked again.

  “I waited for you in the closet. I thought maybe you liked it rough and I …” he whined. “But you dropped your bag off and left with th
at man, your friend. I knew if I didn’t get back to the ship, I’d be missed, so I took that frilly to remind me of something we would do in the future.”

  “Well, I will leave him for you to decide his fate.” She turned, grabbed the device and slipped her arms into it. “Personally,” she said turning back, “I would ...” Genevieve stood there her sword in hand and a severed rope hanging from the beam. Persi smiled darkly, “Yes, my thoughts exactly.”

  She finished clipping the pack to her and stepped to the hatch. Genevieve, realized what she was doing and stepped forward. Persi held out her hand. “No, Captain. I have information I think will help end this and need to get it to Boots by the most expedient means possible.”

  “That is fine, Persi, I will not interfere, but I believe I can assist you with the expedient part.”

  She stepped back from the hatch. “If you can, then I am all ears.”

  Chapter 62 – Boots Meets the Lady Regina

  Boots stepped back to the door and tried the knob. It did not open. He looked around, running through his options. Finally, he removed one of the two doorknockers from the mechanical and placed it on the door handle. Remembering his Morse Code, he tapped a quick message on the door and pulled the device to what he imagined was an eighth of inch. He heard gears engage and turned to the bomb hanging on the back of the mechanical man. He pulled it slightly further than the one on the door then stepped to the left and stood on the opposite side of a steel beam but in full view of the room.