Leroux might have escaped death, but he hadn’t come away from the exploding balloon unscathed. He was still dressed in his legionnaire’s uniform, although it was now torn and singed in numerous places, the left epaulette hanging by a thread, the jacket hanging open at the front, half its buttons missing.
He still wore the gloves too, although they were no longer white. But there was no sign of his goggled gas-mask, and he had suffered as a result.
His face was a mess of bloody blisters. Much of his white-gold hair was missing: the top of his scalp was a seared dome of twisted pink flesh, the rest scorched black. Over the smells of engine oil, burning coal and sooty smoke, Ulysses’ nose twitched at the acrid stench of burnt human hair. The man was clearly finding it hard to breathe.
But, Ulysses considered, it was no less than he deserved.
“So,” Valerius Leroux wheezed, “how many lives do you have left now?
“More than you, I’ll warrant,” the dandy replied, his tone as cold as the rage inside him was hot.
The butterfly-collector’s body was wracked by another painful bout of coughing. “Maybe so,” he managed at last. “But I shall recover. When I am done with you I shall disappear, and when I am recovered I shall be reborn. Like the butterfly emerging from the chrysalis.”
“But where can you go?” Ulysses’ grip on the knife hidden in his hand tightened.
“Oh, you’d be surprised. And when I get there I shall be welcomed with open arms.”
“Then why not just go there? I believed you to be dead. Why not stay that way? I wouldn’t have been any the wiser.”
The anarchist’s blistered face twisted into a grimace of rage and hatred.
“What, and leave things unresolved between us?”
The lepidopterist’s hand was on the accelerator handle. Knowing little about the operation of locomotives, Ulysses searched desperately for the brake.
When he spotted it at last, a knot of ice formed in the pit of his stomach. He was no engineer, but he knew it was no longer going to be possible to stop the speeding express.
At this rate, travelling at this speed, as soon as the train exited from Brunel’s Trans-Channel Tunnel on the English side, the first bend it reached would cause it to jump the rails, the resulting crash causing the deaths of God alone knew how many more innocent victims.
“So you would sacrifice everyone on board this train – and many others – to satisfy your desire for revenge?” Ulysses growled.
“And you wouldn’t?”
“What are you talking about?” Ulysses snapped, feeling his face flush with heat. “I’m nothing like you!”
“Aren’t you?” Leroux said smiling darkly.
“Was that the driver I almost tripped over back there?”
“No,” the lepidopterist laughed, “I think that was the boilerman.”
“That was the boilerman? So what happened to the driver?”
“He got off at the last stop.”
“There wasn’t a last stop.”
“There was for him.”
“You’re nothing but a common murderer, aren’t you?”
“I can assure you, there is nothing common about me!” Leroux hissed vehemently.
“Why, then?” It was all Ulysses could think to say in the face of the man’s raging psychoses.
Leroux smiled through the burning pain. “Why not?”
Ulysses slipped the hilt of the knife into his hand. The blade gleaming in the flickering orange lights of the tunnel.
His nemesis didn’t appear to be armed, even though he had clearly managed to do away with the driver and boilerman without much trouble. But knives and the like... that wasn’t his style, was it? Le Papillon preferred to employ other things as weapons for dramatic effect; the gorilla, the pipe organ under the Paris Opera House, the Eiffel Tower. And now, the Paris to London Express.
Taking a deep breath, Ulysses turned his back on the gasping Leroux and walked away from the cabin.
“What?” he heard Leroux spit. “Is that it? You’re just giving up?” The butterfly-collector sounded almost disappointed.
Ulysses kept walking. He passed the body of the boilerman buried beneath its silken shroud, only stopping when he was at the rear of the tender compartment, the sooty wind whipping his hair and making his eye water.
He looked down at the thickly greased coupling mechanism locking the locomotive and its tender to the rest of the train. Crouching down, gripping a handrail for support with his left hand, he set about uncoupling the train.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
The attendant from earlier was at the door of the guard’s van.
There was a dull metal clonk and the locomotive separated from the rest of train.
“Saving your life!” Ulysses called back over the chuffing noise of the engine. “I suggest you pull the emergency brake!”
Freed of the additional weight, the engine was already pulling away from the uncoupled carriages.
Ulysses watched the disconnected train slowly disappear as the darkness of the tunnel swallowed it up. When he could make out the yellow glow of the carriage windows no longer, he stepped back inside the tender compartment.
It was time to finish this.
“WHAT?”
The expression on the anarchist’s face said it all.
“But I thought...”
“You thought wrong,” Ulysses said. “I have denied you your final victory. The passengers are safe. There’s only you and me now.”
Ulysses went for him then, the tortured terrorist raising his hands in a futile effort to fend off the blows that came thick and fast.
Once his hands had been bloodied enough, his knuckles raw and dripping, the dandy stepped back.
He still might not win Most Dapper Dan of the Year, in his current state, but his chances were a darn sight better now than the butterfly-collector’s.
“Why?” Le Papillon gasped through broken teeth, a gruel of blood and saliva dribbling from his mouth.
“Because every artist needs an audience to appreciate his work,” Ulysses replied, taking something from his trouser pocket.
The metal bracelets rattled in his hand as he advanced on the terrorist. There were no bludgeoning blows this time, but Leroux was too weak to resist him as he snapped one of the bracelets shut around the man’s right wrist and closed the other end of the handcuffs securely about the accelerator handle.
Ulysses reached over the beaten man, and pushed harder on the accelerator control.
“What are you doing?” Le Papillon gasped, peering at Ulysses through bruised and bloodied eyes.
There was a fire in the gentleman adventurer’s one remaining eye as he regarded the murderer of Paris, his face set like stone.
Bending down, he put his mouth to Leroux’s ear.
“What does it look like?” he hissed.
“What? You’re insane!”
“Scream if you want to go faster.”
As the hurtling flight of the locomotive increased in velocity, Ulysses returned to the tender box compartment.
When he returned to the driver’s cabin, less than a minute later, the parachute harness was strapped tight across his chest, the parachute itself folded loosely over one arm.
The terrorist’s horrified expression said it all.
“We’re nothing alike, you and I,” the dandy said, holding out the butter knife towards the vanquished Leroux. He could see a light at the end of the tunnel.
“What do you mean?” the other whispered weakly.
“You didn’t give us a chance. You left us to die atop the Eiffel Tower. But I’m different. I’m going to give you a chance.”
The knife landed at the man’s feet, within reach of his left hand. Its blunt edge gleamed dully in the English sunlight penetrating the tunnel.
And with that Ulysses Quicksilver turned and left Le Papillon to face his fate alone.
STANDING AT THE rear of the locomotive, the wind whipping at his h
air and clothes, nothing but the empty track before him, Ulysses suddenly found himself bathed in bright sunshine as the engine leapt from the dark confines of the Trans-Channel Tunnel.
Leroux’s screams merged with the white noise of the wind whistling in his ears.
How did the saying go? It certainly felt like the sun was shining on the righteous at that moment.
Body tensed, in expectation of the inevitable, the dandy cast the bundle of parachute silk into the air.
The wind caught it immediately, unfurling it and filling the canopy in an instant. Ulysses Quicksilver was yanked clear of the train and into the sky.
A moment after that, the locomotive hit a curve in the track and jumped the rails. Spinning onto its side, it careened into a siding and into the back of a line of aggregate trucks, pushing them ahead of it as it ploughed across the tracks, throwing a cascade of sparks from its iron hull.
Having been pulled high into the air by the opening parachute, Ulysses began to descend again. From his elevated position, he watched the locomotive’s progress as it powered into the back of an oil truck, as the engine sleeve suffered some catastrophic failure. The truck crumpled like a paper bag, a myriad hot sparks igniting the fuel it contained. The resulting fireball was even more impressive than the one that had consumed the balloon.
Ulysses smiled, even as he winced against the light and heat of the rising cloud of oily smoke and greasy orange flame, coming down hard on his knees as the parachute deposited him on the gravel at the side of the track.
Time’s Arrow could not be denied. Justice had been served. Fate had been satisfied. Le Papillon, the murderer of the Paris, was dead.
Ulysses Quicksilver was home, and Destiny awaited.
“But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near...”
– Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress, 1681
“I never think of the future. It comes soon enough.”
– Albert Einstein, 1930
THE END
About the Author
JONATHAN GREEN is a writer of speculative fiction, with more than forty books to his name. He is the creator of Abaddon Books’ Pax Britannia steampunk universe, and Time’s Arrow is his eighth novel set within that world.
He has written for such diverse properties as Doctor Who, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Sonic the Hedgehog, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Moshi Monsters, but – outside of the steampunk milieu – he is probably best known for his contributions to the Fighting Fantasy range of adventure gamebooks and numerous Black Library publications, which draw inspiration from the table top war-gaming systems of Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000.
He currently divides his time between West London and rural Wiltshire. To find out more about his latest projects visit WWW.JONATHANGREENAUTHOR.COM.
The Choice Is Yours!
Ulysses Quicksilver: agent of the throne, dandy and hero. Heart-broken, battered, mutilated and shot, and driven backwards and forwards in time, but determined to keep his dander up. But appearing in the middle of a crime scene is never the best way to start your visit to Paris...
Introducing a radical innovation in the world of e-publishing! Time's Arrow will be released exclusively in ebook format in three parts, starting with Red-Handed in October 2011. After the first two releases, the readers will be invited to vote in the Abaddon website as to how they want the story to continue.
Once all three parts have been published, the work will be collected and published once again – in both ebook and physical format – as a single volume, which you helped to create!
Available to buy from the Kindle Store
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In which our hero – wanted by the French Police for murder – battles his way across Paris, from the Louvre to Notre Dame, in order to prove his innocence.
But does Ulysses try to contact Department Q for help or does he go in search of the mysterious M. Lumière? And who else will come to his aid in his hour of need?
Available to buy from the Kindle Store
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Start a new life on the moon!
Ulysses Quicksilver visits the British lunar colonies, searching for his missing brother, Barty, believed to be on the run from gambling debts on Earth. The clues lead our detective and his faithful butler into the path of unsolved murders, battling robots, shady millionaires and stolen uncanny inventions. Used to working inside the law, Ulysses is stalled when his pursuit puts him on the wrong side of the Luna Prime Police Force.
But why is Ulysses’ ex-fiancée Emilia also in the colonies? Who is the strange eye-patched man following Ulysses? And what is really happening in a secret base on the dark side of the moon?
Used to meeting every adventure with a devil-may-care attitude and a snappy one-liner, Ulysses will be forever changed by the revelations he discovers on this most deadly of trips
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Born of Science - Born of Madness!
Ulysses Quicksilver, agent of the crown, jumps into a time vortex pursuing Daniel Dashwood, a madman bent on sharing modern technology with Hitler’s forces and changing history to suit his evil ends. Rewind several decades, to the time of the Second Great War, to Darmstadt. The Nazis are battling the steampunk empire of Magna Britannia, cooking up necrotic super-soldiers in the gothic towers of Castle Frankenstein.
In the forests outside the castle, other forces are gathering. Ulysses’ father is there, proving that dashing good looks and a talent for swashbuckling adventures run in the family, and wondering why his British masters have partnered him with weakling scientist Dr. Jekyll. The ladies of the Monstrous Regiment are also there to help, but there may be other gothic monsters in the hills...
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A GALAXY-SPANNING ADVENTURE !
Doc Thunder – the gold-bearded, bronze-muscled Hero of New York – in his last stand against a deadly foe whose true identity will shock you to your core!
El Sombra – the masked avenger, the laughing killer they call the Saint of Ghosts – in his final battle against the forces of the Ultimate Reich!
The Scion of Tomorrow, the steel-clad Locomotive Man, in a showdown with cosmic science on the prairies of the Old West!
Jacob Steele, the time-lost gunfighter, defends the 25th Century against the massed armies of the Space Satan!
And a deadly duel of minds and might between the Red King and Red Queen in the mystery palaces of One Million AD!
‘ONE OF THE BEST SUPERHERO PASTICHES I’VE EVER READ’
Pornokitsch on Gods of Manhattan
‘NOT ONLY A POET OF PULP, BUT A POET OF BEATING-TO-A-PULP... AL EWING’S GOT THE GOODS.’
- The Steampunk Scholar on El Sombra
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Title
Series
Indicia
Part Three: White Noise
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
The End
About the Author
'Time's Arrow, Part One: Red-Handed' by Jonathan Green
'Time's Arrow, Part Two: Black Swan' by Jonathan Green
'Dark Side' by Jonathan Green
'Anno Fran
kenstein' by Jonathan Green
'Pax Omega' by Al Ewing
Table of Contents
Series
Indicia
Part Three: White Noise
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
The End
About the Author
'Time's Arrow, Part One: Red-Handed' by Jonathan Green
'Time's Arrow, Part Two: Black Swan' by Jonathan Green
'Dark Side' by Jonathan Green
'Anno Frankenstein' by Jonathan Green
'Pax Omega' by Al Ewing
Time's Arrow 3: White Noise (Pax Britannia (Time's Arrow)) Page 7