by Sadie Swift
The closer the figure came the more I had the strangest feeling I knew who it was, and then, when she stood under a gaslamp realisation struck – it was Hazel-eyes. She was Tok’s assistant? But there was something different about her. Ice formed in my stomach as I saw her eyes were purple.
Nine
Purple-eyes raised her right arm. I knew what was going to happen and cried “Split up!” Ignoring what my compatriots did behind me I dove to my right and rolled behind the crate we’d just left. Quickly I peered over the top and saw purple tracers fire from her fingertips at my previous position.
I had to stop Tok before he caused any more deaths so took aim with my gun. Her purple-eyes followed me. It wasn’t her. It was an evil simulation of her. By now the Tesla coils would be fully charged from when I’d turned them on at the zoo. Before she could fire another volley at my new position I pulled the trigger. My arms and shoulders were forced backwards by the recoil and, with a loud thunderclap that echoed around the basement, bright white lightning flew from the muzzle engulfing her body, making it vibrate uncontrollably. In humans this would cause fainting and probably vomiting, thereby rendering them incapable of further mischief; for mechanical devices it broke their internal mechanisms with a mishmash of welding; whereas for aetheric-powered inventions… Well, if he didn’t already know by now, Tok would certainly discern something was amiss.
The aetheric components of her body exploded at roughly the same time causing torn cloth and metal parts to rain down upon my coat which I’d quickly pulled over my head. The explosion momentarily deafened me and the force of it pushed the crate I was behind along the floor, sliding me along with it.
When the mechanical squall and thunderous echoes died down I lowered my coat and looked around for my compatriots. I spied Sir Percival’s cloud of white hair looking slightly singed with faint wisps of smoke rising from it behind a crate, and the liaison’s legs flat on the ground further still. Luckily I saw that the rest of him was still connected as he popped up and looked over at myself and Sir Percival. He nodded at us both and, guns leading, we proceeded down three avenues of crates in the direction Purple-eyes took to reach us.
Ahead of us was a bright white glow. As we proceeded towards it I saw it take on a slight purple tinge and knew that Tok may well be preparing to fight.
I came out of the shadow of a large brick pillar and saw ahead of me his workspace. Larger sealed crates were stacked in towers around it. He certainly had something for flightless birds.
Purple-tinged light emanated from what appeared to be four very large two-foot wide upside-down test-tubes roughly twenty-feet high stacked together at one end of his workspace. As I’d suspected he was pulling aether into this world. Lower down was the unmistakeable electric arcing of a Van de Graaff generator. This was why Tok was down here – so he could make use of the Museum’s power supply. It was also why Sir Percival was so interested in Peter Frost’s device at the exhibition – if aether could be drawn into this world using less energy then it’s use would be more widespread. Unfortunately it was still an experimental art. And mistakes were deadly.
Movement to one side caught my eye and I saw the black suited figure of Tok sans his breathing apparatus but wearing brass goggles apparently speak to someone. Whoever it was appeared to be attached to a further brick pillar. And with a shock I realised they wore a dark green dress and had auburn hair - it was Hazel-eyes from last night. Why was she here and why had Tok made an aetheric killer out of her mimicked body?
Tok caught sight of us moving determinedly towards him and jerkily scurried to a large lever. I heard the liaison’s gun fire and Tok was instantly spun to his left. But he moved back into position – the liaison must have hit part of his metal ‘additions’ and failed to injure him. He grasped the lever’s handle and pulled it down. I stopped and waited looking around to see what would happen. I couldn’t discern any change, but Tok smiled over at us before heading into the maze of crates.
“Help!” cried the real Hazel-eyes, spying our movement.
I ran in her direction wanting to make sure I rescued her this time. But what had Tok’s lever done?
The increasingly purple light in the glass tubes drained away to return to plain white light. He’d fed the aether to something, but what?
I passed two large crates stacked upon each other and sped past the jumble of tables and electrical and aetheric accoutrements in Tok’s work area towards his female captive. Subconsciously I’d already decided to let the two men deal with Tok - I had my own priorities to attend to.
To the fading background sounds of gunfire and the strange flump! noise of Sir Percival’s pistols as they pursued Tok through the crates I swung my gun behind me and examined how Hazel-eyes was fastened to the pillar. She, in turn, examined me - her potential saviour.
She was, as I recalled, slightly shorter than me, and her dark green dress clung to her body… No, I had to rescue her first before anything else.
Brass manacles enclosed her wrists and ankles and were connected by iron chains fed around her body and the brick pillar. A mass of thick metal attached the four chains to the pillar round the back. She wasn’t going anywhere for the moment.
I raised my goggles to my forehead and glanced into her puzzled face. She had a lovely nose. Then I saw realisation like dawn breaking across her face. “You?” she said as if not believing it was the same ‘me’ as last night. I suppose she had to get past the goggles and pink hair first.
“Hello, I’m Alice. Forgive my haste, I don’t do this very often.”
I looked over at the tables for tools to cut the manacles, failing that the chains as I could remove the manacles at leisure later.
Spying a pair of bolt cutters on a further table I headed towards them but noticed movement a stone’s throw away. In their crates the penguins were stirring.
Ten
Hurriedly I picked up the bolt cutters and moved around the pillar so that I could attack the thinner manacles around her right wrist. Hazel-eyes saw what I was doing and pulled her wrist as far away as she could from the bolt-cutter’s blades, wincing as the metal chafed her skin.
Having gained purchase on the manacles I desperately forced the handles closed. “What’s your name?” I grunted out.
“What?”
“Your name. I’d like to know who I’m rescuing.”
“Katherine.”
Sounds of splintering wood reached me and, still forcing the handles together, I quickly glanced round. The penguins were gradually breaking out of their wooden pens. But why weren’t they hopping out as their name indicated? They seemed strangely sluggish.
Suddenly the bolt cutters jerked my arms downwards as they’d cut through the manacles. Katherine cradled her sore right wrist against her torso. There didn’t seem to be much blood.
I checked on the penguins and saw they were moving even more slowly, like clockwork toys winding down. Maybe Tok didn’t have enough aether to set them at their normal pace?
Relieved I moved on to her left wrist and again she pulled away from it to give the bolt cutters space.
Suddenly she startled me with a loud scream.
“What?” I asked.
The sound of splintering wood came to me closer than that for the penguins.
“I’m grateful for you trying to save me, Alice. But I think you should save yourself and go after Toby!”
“What are you talking about?”
I looked into her frightened face. She wasn’t looking at me but at an angle behind my shoulder.
A loud mechanical simulation of a roar assaulted my ears. Turning round I saw the other advantage to Tok of using this basement, as it was apparently also connected to the Natural History museum – with its long metal fangs glinting, a large fur-coated, purple-eyed saber-tooth tiger looked down at us.
Eleven
The top four crates atop the towers around Tok’s workspace were in bits on the floor. Three purple-eyed saber-tooth tigers roared at
their freedom. It looked like Tok had rummaged through the cast-offs of a rich lady’s fur collection as they all wore mangy moth-eaten coats. For a reason that totally eluded me (although it kept with Tok’s theme of flightless birds), the fourth crate contained a dodo, albeit purple-eyed. On gaining its freedom it gave a celebratory squawk sounding rather like an ostrich laying an egg.
I dropped the bolt cutters and swung my gun round. Had the Tesla-coil recharged enough? The power gauge was something I’d always meant get round to fixing. It currently fluctuated between full capacity and dead as a… well, dodo.
With no time to put my goggles back into position I took aim at the closest tiger which was still standing in its ruined crate, and fired. Thunder boomed around the basement and the gun’s bright lightning seemed to momentarily stall the tiger’s movement. It seemed to glow fleetingly from within before it’s aether exploded. I pulled my long coat around myself and stood in front of Katherine, sheltering her from the blast and metal rain, blinking tears from my eyes.
As soon as the squall ended I quickly aimed at the next closest tiger – I felt the dodo was currently the least dangerous beast as it didn’t appear to possess razor-sharp fangs or claws (although its beak looked like it could give nasty nip). The tiger had already jumped down to a worktable and seemed to be stalking toward us.
At the same time that the dodo made an ungainly jump down from its crate plinth so too did the tiger leap towards us, light glinting off its teeth and claws. Katherine screamed again at the sight of metal claws heading in our direction and I fired. Fortuitously the gun’s lightning caught the tiger and also found the dodo, joining them with blindingly bright light, seeming to momentarily suspend them in mid-air before they exploded with shocking noise. Again I sheltered us from the double blast and falling metal rain, fur, and feathers.
Quickly turning round but momentarily blinded I couldn’t see the third saber-tooth tiger. Where had it gone?
“Do you know where it is?” I asked Katherine.
“No!”
I heard panic in her voice. Having been nearly deafened by the aetheric explosions I didn’t know if the pursuit of Tok had ended yet. I decided to stay in front of Katherine protecting her as much as I could while waiting for my armed compatriots to return.
Movement from my left made me swing the gun towards it but it was just a crate toppling over after being pushed out of position by the explosions.
Katherine screamed directly in my ear and I turned to see the third tiger, it’s wide mouth open, purple-eyes flaring as it raced towards us. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. With the tiger even closer I desperately clicked the trigger hoping for something, anything. It leapt, its teeth and claws out in front of it looking to land on top of us. Lightning flew almost point black into its mouth and I quickly spun round to shield Katherine’s body with my own, feeling the aether blast crush me against her like a swat from a giant’s hand. We screamed in unison believing this would be our last breath. Metal fragments battered my body.
As the sounds died down we looked into each other’s eyes. As one we moved together and kissed fiercely. Her freed right arm found its way around my body and up to my head. Her tongue slid easily between my lips and thrills raced through my body as mine joined hers in ecstatic joy.
Our hearts beat hammer-like from the adrenaline pumping through us. My arms slid around her waist, my right pulling her body closer towards mine, my left sliding up over her dress to her auburn hair. Her body fervently pressed against mine, begging to be caressed.
Opening my eyes I saw my yearning desire mirrored in her hazel ones.
A loud cough broke the spell and I quickly pulled away to see that Sir Percival had just appeared around a large crate. He’d momentarily blocked the liaison from seeing myself and Katherine in the throes of passion.
I cleared my own throat and said, “Just get these off you, Miss,” before picking up the bolt cutters and re-attacking the manacles. “Did you get Tok?” I added, quickly making conversation.
“No,” Sir Percival replied ruefully, “He escaped fleeing down a booby-trapped sewer.”
Katherine was still breathing heavily as she glanced between Sir Percival, myself, and the bald Departmental liaison. She was probably wondering about the hair situation.
I felt someone walk up to me. “I’d best do this, Miss Lovelady,” Sir Percival said quietly, taking the bolt cutters from my hands. Looking at Katherine he said, “I don’t believe we’re acquainted, Miss?”
“Katherine.”
“Delighted to meet you. Get you out in a jiffy, then we can take you back so that Miss Lovelady here can make sure you’ve not suffered at Mr Tok’s hands.”
Her eyes met mine and we shared a special look.
***
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The Caspian Star
One
A hand shook me from a dream of splashing around in the local river with Katherine. Blearily I looked up and my heart burst into a sprint as a monster looked down at me. Then my eyes got accustomed to the low light from the lantern and I realised it was just Sir Percival, with his hair looking more dishevelled than usual.
“Time to go, Miss Lovelady,” he whispered, glancing meaningfully over at my bed companion and then back to me.
The day had finally come. Katherine and I had already spoken about this many times, sometimes forcefully, sometimes tearfully. For a reason I couldn’t fathom, and she wouldn’t divulge, she seemed overly upset at not being allowed to accompany me. By some miracle we’d managed to avoid the flapping ears of the Departmental Liaison apparently hiding around every corner. It felt like a rift growing between us that however much I professed my feelings for her (and amply demonstrated them in bed) I just couldn’t bridge.
Sir Percival quietly left my bedroom and I rolled over to slide my arm around Katherine’s naked body, pressing my own against her warm back. Her tense muscles told me she’d heard Sir Percival and was pretending to be asleep.
I gently brushed her hair from her shoulder and kissed the smooth skin I’d revealed. Then I forced myself out of the bed into the colder air. Quickly I wrapped myself in my dressing gown and went to get ready. My heart fell as I glanced back towards the bed and saw Katherine’s back still to me.
Thankfully Sir Percival had his mind on other things and didn’t try to engage me in conversation at the breakfast table where we fortified ourselves for the day ahead. Was he as excited as me about seeing the airship as I? Or were his thoughts revolving more around examples of Russian masculinity? The answer would, no doubt, be revealed later.
After dressing for travel we encountered the more than usual sour-looking Liaison inside the entrance hallway to the stately home the secret Department we worked for owned. I made sure to pick up my umbrella – one can never be too sure about the British weather. The sky outside had yet to be tinged by the light of dawn and Wilkins had thankfully lit all the lanterns around the steam carriage. Its exhalations rose into the chill air combined with our own. My eyes met those of Sir Percival and I saw my excitement mirrored in his; although perhaps for very different reasons.
~*~
The invitation had come out of the blue. How they even knew of Sir Percival and decided to request his presence was a mystery he happily accepted. What mattered was that he and a guest (yours truly!) had been invited to the inaugural visit to Britain of the Russian royal family in their state airship, the Czar Nicholas. Apparently Gustav Faberge had a major hand in the decorations and rumour had it that at least two fortunes of precious gems and gold had been used in its outfitting. The newspapers also slyly rumoured that a certain jewel had also been incorporated into Faberge’s design – that of the world’s largest Sapphire, the Caspian Star, which apparently took pride of place in the main reception room. I was just dying to see it (assuming the newspapers only printed the truth), and decided to try and nudge Lady Luck into smiling upon me in my endeavour by wearing a new dress of a gorgeous deep blue hue.
The course of state diplomacy was a river I had no intention of dipping any part of my body into so I didn’t ask why Her Majesty wouldn’t be present at this event, but instead would be hosting a reception later that evening at Buckingham Palace. Whatever the reason I was happy to be out of the laboratory again (and with little chance of encountering murderous rockhopper penguins).
We hurried aboard the carriage and I was grateful to see that Mrs Miggins (such a dear) had packed a picnic hamper which was stored under the rear seat. Sir Percival and I quickly sat atop the rear seat and hid the hamper from sight by arrangement of his long coat and my dress before the Liaison entered the carriage.
Sir Percival made no move toward the hamper until the Liaison had slowly slipped back to sleep lulled by the carriage’s movement. Apparently he wasn’t a morning person. When he judged it safe enough Sir Percival quietly pulled the hamper out and we sipped cups of tea and nibbled upon some excellent biscuits during the journey. The only fly in the ointment was the Liaison’s snores, which somehow managed to drown out the steam carriage’s noise.
Looking out of the window I saw London waking up - the workers in their drab clothing heading for the factories or docks; the shopkeepers arranging their wares as enticingly as possible; the dirty urchins stalking their first mark of the day. I was unutterably grateful to be out and away from that world.
The Liaison gave a few sniffs, burped an unpleasant smell, and opened a bleary eye. He spied our teacups and seemed to almost levitate up off his seat.
“Dreadfully sorry, dear fellow,” Sir Percival said while waggling his empty cup. “Couldn’t let it go cold. Unthinkable.”