Terra Nova

by Shane Arbuthnott

  Molly took a breath. “I’m sorry about your friends, whatever happened. The situation is more complicated than you know. But knowing that doesn’t bring your friends back.” Bascombe nodded, but his expression did not change. “Maybe, then, if you don’t want to help us, we can offer a trade. Use of your press for another task. Another factory.”

  Bascombe’s lips pursed. “That seems reasonable. But I should warn you, things have shifted in Terra Nova. They’re accusing you of new crimes every other day, blaming the work of every rogue spirit on you, playing your sister’s speeches on every wavelength, every network. You’ll find no friends in Terra Nova now. And Disposal seems to have every cobblestone in the city under watch. I have something I’d like you to do, and I am willing to trade, but I don’t want to send you into danger unknowing.”

  Molly and her family looked at each other. I knew it was bad, but…

  “What could you possibly be smiling about?” Molly’s father asked. Molly turned and saw he was watching Theresa, who indeed had a smile on her face.

  Theresa grunted. “Well, it poses problems, sure enough. But they’re acting out of fear. It’s like I told you, Molly.”

  “They’re putting attention on me, you mean?”

  “So much that they might as well have built you a stage.”

  A lot of good that will do if we’re all shot before we can say a word. “What is it you want us to do?” she asked Bascombe.

  “There’s a new factory we’ve been watching. Very new, very secretive—we haven’t even been able to determine what they make there. But there is clearly a great deal of money involved. And workers are disappearing into it at a rate we’ve never seen before, and coming back out in black bags. Whatever they’re doing must be extraordinarily dangerous. We’d like you to shut it down before more workers are killed. If you do, you will have use of our press and any materials you need.”

  Molly looked to her father, who nodded slowly, and then to her brothers.

  “Okay,” Molly said. “We’ll do it.”

  It didn’t look like any factory Molly had seen before. Sure, there was the name on the door—Haviland Industries, like half of the factories in the city—and sure, it was inside the soot-stained industrial district—surrounded, she noticed, by factories that had been closed and boarded up for quite some time. But other than that, it had no markings of a factory. The brickwork was clean. There was no smoke coming from its chimneys—no signs that its furnaces were even lit, from what Molly could see. And when she pressed her ear to the wall, she felt only cold stone, no thrum of machines.

  And yet, just as Bascombe had told them, a new batch of laborers made its way in every eight hours and didn’t come back out.

  “This is weird,” Molly said. “Something’s not right with this place. I mean, more not right than usual.”

  “I agree,” Ariel said softly above her. “I can sense spirits inside. Quite a few.” She drifted along the wall, holding her arms out in front of her, but suddenly stopped and drew back. “There is iron in some of the brickwork.”

  “Iron in the walls? Why would—”

  There was a hum above them. Molly and Ariel scrambled for cover in the stairwell of a nearby factory, where her father and brothers were still waiting. Once they were in the shadows, Molly looked up to see a black ship float by, the winds shying away from it. A spotlight pierced the darkness at its prow, roving over the rooftops of the nearby factories.

  That’s the ship we saw before, when we picked up Toves, Molly thought. The hull was black and shallow, the only color coming from the silver swords painted on either side.

  “That ship has shown up every thirty minutes,” her father said. “I think it’s guarding this place.”

  Molly watched the black-hulled airship. How does it fly without the wind? And it wasn’t just that it didn’t use the wind, she realized. The wind seemed unable to pass near the ship, skirting wide around it. A ship that disrupts the wind? It would be a good way to hunt spirits like Legerdemain. Maybe it’s doing something to the gravity. Like a huge gravitic engine. But I’ve never known one that powerful.

  “Disposal, keeping watch on a factory?” Kiernan said. “But why?”

  “Well, if Theresa was right that Haviland Industries is supplying Disposal with new equipment, maybe they owe Arkwright some favors,” Rory suggested.

  “Maybe we’ll find out once we’re inside,” Molly said. “How do we get in? There are no windows, and the only things that go in are people and unmarked trucks.”

  “Are the trucks on a schedule?” her father asked.

  “They come in at the same time as the shift change and leave again a little while later.”

  He nodded. “Seems like the best way in then. But we’re going to have to do this one without Legerdemain. I don’t think we can bring him in with that airship about.”

  “I was thinking that too,” Molly said. Legerdemain was in the high atmosphere now, far above them. Molly tugged at their connection and thought, Stay away, trying to send an image of the black airship. She felt a gentle hum back from the spirit far above. “Ariel, with that iron in the walls it may be best for you to stay back too. What do you think?”

  “I would rather come.”

  “Okay. Your choice.”

  “Anyone else worried that we’re going into a place that’s heavily guarded, without any idea what’s inside and we can’t even bring our heaviest hitter to?” Rory whispered. “No? Just me?”

  “Of course we’re worried, Rory,” Molly’s father said. “I’d rather sail a skiff into a hurricane than go in there. But this looks like the only way on from here, so this is what we do.” Kiernan and Molly nodded their agreement.

  “Okay then. Plan?” Rory asked.

  “We could pretend to be laborers, get in with the next shift,” Molly said.

  “No. They’d recognize us,” Kiernan said. “I think Da was right. The trucks are our best way in. Ariel, could you fly Molly in on top of one as it’s coming in?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good. From there, we try to run it like the other factories. Molly, you get the doors open. We’ll be waiting here. We need to be out before the patrol comes back.”

  “But Rory was right too,” their father said. “We don’t know how dangerous this is, what kind of resistance might be inside. Molly, take this one slow and quiet until you know more. We’ll take our cue from you.”

  Molly pursed her lips and looked at the factory. Why would they be guarding this place? Suddenly she realized everyone was watching her. “Oh. Right, yes. Good plans. We’ll do it the way you said. I sneak in, see what’s what, then let you in. Out in thirty minutes, before the patrol returns.”

  “Thirty minutes,” Rory said softly. “Well, we usually manage to do some damage in that amount of time.”

  A few hours later Molly was skimming along the ground, held aloft by Ariel as they flew toward the supply truck’s route. The sun had set long ago, and the abandoned factories around them were dark and still, giving them plenty of shadows to hide in. Molly closed her eyes and felt the goose bumps on her arms, and the giddy joy of flight.

  I wish we could just go flying together instead of always skulking around, Molly thought. But if that’s what I want, I guess we have to make a world where that can happen.

  As they wove between the factories, Molly heard the thrumming of igneous engines and opened her eyes. A boxy truck passed the mouth of the alley ahead of them. It was a somber gray except for the engine, which glimmered sun-bright through cracks in its casing. There were two men sitting in the cabin. Ariel lifted Molly higher into the air, and they swooped in over the truck. Ariel set Molly down on the truck’s roof and unwound herself. Molly listened for sounds of alarm, but all she could hear was the engine’s grumble.

  “I’ll try to get inside,” Molly whispered. She peered down over the back of the truck at the doors. A long latch held them shut, and Molly couldn’t reach it from the roof. The road flew
by beneath them. A fall at this speed probably wouldn’t kill me. I think. She lowered herself over the edge

  “Careful, Molly,” Ariel said. Molly didn’t respond. With her fingers gripping the roof of the truck, she felt down below with her feet until she found the latch. She kicked down, and it turned.

  The door under her swung outward, carrying Molly with it. She fell, catching the latch with her hands, and looked down to see the road speeding by just inches below her feet. She pulled herself farther up.

  Both rear doors had swung partway open, then stopped. As Molly got her bearings, she realized Ariel had stopped them with her winds, keeping them from banging open and alerting the drivers. “Thanks,” she said to Ariel.

  Molly reached carefully around to the other side of the door and found the interior latch. She used it to swing around to the inside of the door. With some effort—and an uncomfortable amount of noise—she got herself into the truck’s cargo area. She gestured for Ariel to follow. Ariel flowed between the doors, still holding them with her winds. But as soon as she entered, she recoiled.

  “Molly! Iron!” she hissed. Her grip on the doors vanished, and Molly lunged to grab them before they swung too far open. With the doors in her hands, and the road rushing by in the gap beneath them, Molly peered over her shoulder to see what Ariel was shying from.

  The truck was filled top to bottom with spirit traps. Over the rumble of the wheels she could hear them wheezing, groaning, growling. They were full.

  Ariel hung back from them, halfway into the truck. But they would be at the factory soon, and if the doors were still open, they would catch her.

  Molly pulled one door closed and then used her free hand to pull out the neck of her shirt. “Ariel, get in! Stay close to me!”

  Ariel did as Molly said, flowing down inside her shirt and wrapping herself around Molly’s chest. They had kept together like this aboard the Gloria Mundi, that great iron ship, and Molly’s spirit-touched air gave Ariel some protection from the iron.

  Molly pulled the second door shut, and the cargo area grew dark. Molly could see the nearest traps by the faint glow of Ariel through her shirt. There were dozens of the traps in the truck, some quite large.

  “What do they need them all for?”

  Ariel’s only response was a groan.

  A moment later Molly felt the truck slow, and she heard the murmur of voices outside.

  “Ariel, I have to get closer to the traps. They’ll be opening the doors in a second, and we need to hide.”

  “Do what you must,” Ariel hissed.

  Molly stepped up onto the nearest traps, trying to keep Ariel as far from the iron as she could. The traps swayed underneath her as she climbed to the top and crawled farther back into the interior, where the shadows could hide her.

  The truck had stopped now, and Molly heard the cabin doors opening, followed by more muffled voices. They moved around the truck, and then light poured into the back.

  “Smaller load this time?” someone said.

  “It’s what was on the requisition,” another replied. “We’re running low on subjects, I think, now that we’re not using the kids anymore.”

  “Not a good idea to slow down when we haven’t had any success yet. I don’t know if you were here last time Arkwright made a visit. It wasn’t pleasant.” There was a thump as someone stepped up into the truck. “Come on, let’s get this unloaded. Most of the subjects are already in the rooms.”

  What are they talking about? What is going on here?

  Molly listened as the first of the traps were unloaded, and waited until she heard the workers moving away from the doors. She crawled along the traps and jumped down to the truck floor. No one was in sight, and when she leaned out of the truck, she saw the backs of several people to her right, carrying traps away. While their eyes were averted, she jumped out.

  “I’m going under the truck,” Molly whispered to Ariel. “If you think you can slip out without being noticed, now might be a good time.”

  Ariel flew out of Molly’s shirt and up toward the ceiling of the factory. Molly wished she could go with her to get a better view. But a flying girl would probably draw attention.

  Carefully Molly made her way to the front of the truck and peered out around one of its huge wheels.

  The room in front of her looked nothing like a factory floor. Along the walls were rows of cells with narrow metal doors, an iron-mesh window in the center of each door. Through the windows Molly could make out people, peering back into the larger room.

  Is this some kind of prison?

  In the far corner she spotted a huge stack of empty traps—more even than her family had carried with them aboard the Legerdemain back when it had been an aetheric harvester. She scanned the room but saw no spiritual machines anywhere, nor any of the equipment required for infusing spirits into machines. What did they do with them all?

  The people carrying the full traps came into view, moving slowly under their burdens. “Bring them straight here!” a tall woman shouted, beckoning them toward the cells. “These subjects are ready.” The woman wore an odd suit that glimmered in the lights above. Molly stared at it for a full minute before she puzzled out why. There was iron sewn into it, from an iron-banded collar down to iron-studded boots. Several other workers near the cells wore the same kind of suit, but another group standing nearby wore only loose white pants and tunics. Molly stared at the familiar-looking white clothes—they were the same as what she had worn in the sanatorium. Are those sanatorium patients?

  Footsteps sounded above Molly, inside the truck, and she pushed herself farther back under the truck. More of the iron-suited workers emerged with traps, carrying them straight toward the doors. Once they were clear of the truck Molly eased forward again to see what they would do.

  The tall woman took one of the traps. Next to each cell door there was a small hatch, and she fitted the trap carefully into one of them, fastening it in place. She then twisted a knob on the trap’s side. A pale face watched her from inside the cell.

  There was a hiss, and then a roar, and something iridescent green flashed in the window. Molly squinted to see through the thick mesh. Something bright and amorphous flowed past. Are those scales? She thought she heard a voice in the cell, followed by a thump. The woman and other workers moved forward, blocking her view. They recoiled a moment later as something crashed against the door.

  The workers around the door chattered among themselves as Molly’s stomach churned. Did they just set an angry spirit loose on someone? To the side of the row of cells, the people in sanatorium garb looked on with a vague, unfocused anxiety, but they didn’t seem fully aware. Molly looked harder at their eyes. They’re drugged. They really are from a sanatorium. What is going on?

  “Not a strong candidate, really,” the tall woman said, her clear voice carrying across the room. She was looking down at a ledger as she spoke. “No history of pro-spirit behavior, only mild sympathies. It was a poor chance to create a link. None of these look promising. Do we have anyone better in the new batch?” She looked up at the group of drugged people. “Come, dispose of the spirit, and we’ll move on.”

  A link? Pro-spirit behavior? Molly’s mind spun for a moment, and suddenly the pieces fit together. This place is for Arkwright. They’re trying to create more spirit-touched people like me and Wîscakân so he can feed. She watched in horror as the trap was removed from its hatch and replaced with a small canister. With a whump the canister shot a cloud of glittering dust into the cell. The spirit screamed and battered the window, and then, with a flash, it dissolved. Iron powder. They’re killing people and spirits here, trying to make more food for Arkwright. She felt like vomiting—or, better, like rushing out and attacking every calm-faced worker overseeing this horror. But she knew that would help no one. She pressed her hands into the floor until the shaking passed.

  The tall woman and her colleagues were moving toward another cell. Two workers struggled behind her.

 
; “Would you hurry, please? Arkwright will be here soon, and if we haven’t made progress—”

  “We’re trying, but his false leg is bloody heavy,” the man just behind her said.

  Molly’s eyes snapped to the thin, drug-addled man between them. Croyden! The sanatorium drugs had sapped all expression from his face. What is he doing here? Oh God, they’re going to kill him!

  They pulled him forward, the tall woman opening a door for him. What do I do? How do I stop this? This wasn’t just a factory where a few overseers kept an eye on laborers too weak to stand up for themselves. There were at least two dozen staff in this place, and their iron suits would keep Ariel from fighting them effectively. How can we stop them all?

  Croyden slumped to the floor inside the cell, his artificial leg clanging against the wall.

  Molly heard more footsteps above her in the truck. The traps! She slid to the rear of the vehicle and watched as two men stepped out, carrying more traps. As soon as they were gone, she slid out from under the truck and hopped up into the cargo area. Half of the traps were gone now, but some of the largest were still sitting in the back corner. She ran forward and found the dials to open the vents and feeding hatches on all the traps. She crouched down in front of them. “Can you hear me? Can any of you speak English?”

  There was no answer, though she could hear air wheezing through the vents, and one of the terric traps had begun to rumble.

  “No, of course you won’t talk to me. Why would you?” she said softly. “Okay, I’m going to talk, and I hope some of you can understand me. I want to let you out—no, I’m going to let you out. It’s up to you what you do after I open your traps. But I’m hoping some of you might stay and help us shut this place down so they can’t hurt any more people or spirits here. I really, really hope you’re not so angry that you attack me or the other humans who are victims of this place.” She stopped and listened. The wheezing of air through the vents had softened. “Did you understand any of that?”