“You are to be reassigned. You will be placed on a different front, a front of cameras and reporters. What you have done today will be known throughout the world. You are to be a symbol. No nation—no invader, can conquer us.”
“Thank you, comrade.” Ekaterina thought of Minin and Pozharsky. For the first time she wondered if their stories were also exaggerations, simplifications, and lies.
“There is a field hospital next to St. Basil’s. Our press corps will meet you there in one hour for a first interview.”
Ekaterina nodded.
“Now,” the Grand Marshal said as she stared coldly and directly into Ekaterina’s eyes. “You have leave to complete my original orders. I would hate to report to the Premier that you died in a tragic accident.”
“Comrade Marshal?”
The Grand Marshal stepped back and lifted her powered arm. Beyond the iron fist and through the open door to the medical bay, Ekaterina could make out the figures of aliens tending to their wounded.
“I understand a roast pig is being prepared in your honor,” the Grand Marshal said, smiling. “Do not keep us waiting. Mother Russia, and the world, are expecting you.”
An image of Zakhar crouching next to the monument came to mind. Those heroes had given her the strength she needed that day. Now it was her turn to inspire others and secure the future of Mother Russia. She had failed her comrades once before. She would not fail them again.
Ekaterina took a deep breath and saluted. “For the Motherland.”
The Grand Marshal nodded, a look of approval in the woman’s cold eyes. “Comrade Captain.”
Ekaterina turned down the hall and fingered the trigger loops in her gloves. She passed the soldiers standing guard and stepped into the medical bay. Human-like faces stared back at her. She raised her cannon arm and aimed.
Spokoynoy nochi, Zakhar.
A Clockwork Alien
Gini Koch
A spear flew through the air and imbedded itself into the wall by Algar’s head. This meant it was stomach height for most beings, but a spear through the midsection was as bad as a spear through the cranium.
Of course, a spear was better than a laser shot. Lasers had their place. Spears, too. The throne room of the most powerful kingdom in this particular solar system wasn’t really the place for either, though.
He pulled the spear out of the wall, walked over to the throne, and tossed it at the feet of the young man sitting there. “I beg your pardon?”
The current King of Alpha Four looked around. “Sorry.”
“That’s it? ‘Sorry?’ You almost kill me and you manage two syllables?” Of course, the reality was that a spear through the head probably wouldn’t kill Algar. But no one else needed to know that. “Why are you throwing spears at the wall?”
“Bored. Bored, bored, bored. Did I mention, bored?”
Algar resisted the urge to heave a sigh. “Really, Your Highness? Ruling your planet and solar system is too dull for you?” It always started this way. The boredom led to the desire to explore and conquer. Algar had spent century upon century ensuring that each new king found a good channel for their boredom. A safe channel. A channel that wouldn’t bring the wrong beings here.
Some royal families on other planets inbred and went strange or stupid. Alpha Four’s royal family did their best to keep their bloodline fresh. But whether it was that or if the original king’s curiosity about the cosmos was genetically handed down, this bloodline liked to go exploring with the intent to conquer. Only King Reginald’s father had already conquered their solar system when Reginald was just a little boy.
There were other systems, of course. Though they were quite far out in terms of this particular galaxy, there were still some options. However, Algar knew the closest neighbor wasn’t really ready for visitors from afar. And going closer to the Galactic Core wasn’t in Algar’s best interests. And when it came down to it, the only interests that mattered, as far as Algar was concerned, were Algar’s.
So traveling closer to the main galactic planets was definitely out. And traveling to Earth wasn’t in anyone’s best interests—too many others wandered by that lonely little rock and Earth’s inhabitants just weren’t ready to learn they weren’t alone.
Then again, beings on Alpha Four and Earth resembled each other enough that Reginald could pass for one of them. Algar could as well. And, of course, there was more than one way to visit.
He whistled softly and his pets appeared. The Poofs were loyal and loving and, as far as the royal bloodline were concerned, came with the royal package. The first king had understood that the Poofs were on a familial loan, but Algar hadn’t felt the need to share this with anyone else, the current king included.
Reginald brightened up. “Har and Ten! Come to make me happy with your fluffy purrs?” The Poofs did love the Royal Family, so, after Algar had petted them, they bounded over to Reginald, purring as requested.
At this size, the Poofs were small and fluffy, with eyes like black buttons, tiny paws, no visible ears, and no tails. When roused, they were three times bigger than Algar, and their mouths were filled with razor sharp teeth. They were excellent protection and could make the journey Algar was considering without issue. Plus they’d help keep an eye on Reginald.
“Save me from boredom,” Reginald murmured to the Poofs. “Because I’m going mad.”
Algar made up his mind. “Your Highness, have I explained the concept of other universes to you yet?”
Reginald nodded. “Yes. There are many, more than I can comprehend. Some are very like ours, some are very different.” He looked at Algar, and his eyes sparkled. “Are you suggesting we go to one?”
Algar closed his eyes and let his mind travel. Yes, there it was. A universe a few major occurrences away from this one. Alpha Four was the same, meaning Reginald existed in this other universe, so there would be no need for certain indoctrinations and inoculations. And Earth was different — more technologically advanced than the Earth of this universe, with people more open to the wonders of science and the cosmos.
And…there was something quite interesting going on as well. Something that would alleviate his boredom along with Reginald’s.
Algar opened his eyes. “Yes. For a visit.” Then he smiled, and snapped his fingers.
* * *
“Faster! Pull the main rudder to lee! Maybe we can lose them in that cloud bank to starboard!”
I so pulled. Captain Tucker wasn’t given to shouting at his crew for no reason.
Going into clouds meant, among other things, that the crew on the main deck would end up wet as well as cold. But everyone had their flight suits and caps on, and all either had their goggles on or hanging around their necks. Those of us with longer hair would have wet ponytails, but that was a small price to pay to remain alive.
“Harder, Jeanette! Put your muscles into it, girl!”
“You’re a lot bigger than me, and stronger, too. Why don’t you take the rudder and let me steer?”
“Because you’re a madwoman at the helm.”
I looked behind us. Whatever it was in the sky, it wasn’t made by any man—at least, not any man or woman on Earth. “I’m thinking a madwoman might be your best choice, Captain.”
He cursed under his breath, but gave the order for us to switch places. “Crew, prepare for turbulence! Jeanette, on three…two…one…now!”
The captain and I both leaped for each other’s places. I managed to grab the yoke before it spun out of control or dropped our nose down too far. As soon as the captain had the rudder, I pulled back, to bring our nose up, and spun the yoke to starboard while the captain kept the rudder hard to lee. The Golden Voyager turned quickly up and to the right and, as suggested, flew into the clouds.
It was a dangerous maneuver. The cold and wet of the clouds would dampen the silken balloons and sails, and if the air and hydrogen cooled too much, we’d be going down, whether the oddities after us shot us down or not. The deck could become slippe
ry, meaning, official flight boots with an anti-slip tread or not, a crewman might take a spill at an inopportune time. And if there was anything in these clouds, we’d likely have no time to avoid it.
Our airmen were busy keeping the balloons filled, while the ruddermen adjusted the trim of both balloons and sails based on both what the captain and I had done and the instructions he was shouting. At least those I could see. The Golden Voyager was a longer boat, and the captain and I were midship.
I could have shouted the same—in fact, Captain Tucker tended to say I was the best at giving directions; at least, that’s how I chose to interpret his saying I was the best loudmouth on his crew—but in tense situations, one clear voice of authority is better than many. And when I was manning either the rudder or the yoke, the Third Officer handled the repetition of the captain’s orders.
One of the shipteens ran back to us. “Captain, Ex-O,” Missy said breathlessly, “Mister Manning says we can’t go up much higher or we’ll freeze or stop breathing.”
“Manning’s too timid,” I muttered.
Missy heard me. “Do you want us to prep for emergency situations, Ex-O?”
The captain snorted. “Miss Gunnels, have you young people not perhaps noticed what’s chasing us?”
“Yes, sir, Captain. Mister Manning would like to stop running away from them and get a better look.”
“Would he?” I didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. “Is this the time Mister Manning is going to take up arms or are we again hoping to capture fascinating images for his daguerreotype, petri dishes, and microscope?”
Manning was our science officer. Honesty forced me to admit that he was the most handsome man on our crew. Quite possibly the most handsome man in the United Territories. Tall, well-muscled, and very pleasing to the eye, with thick brown hair and deep blue eyes, he could have been an Ex-O or even a captain, if he’d had the desire. He had the look, the build, the brains, and, frankly, the charisma.
But Manning didn’t like to fight, and he rarely enjoyed giving orders. His interests were all in science and discovery. Which, when we weren’t being pursued by things we knew not what of, was a somewhat charming trait.
In danger situations, however, Manning’s desire to try to reason out what was going on tended to put me on edge. I fell far more into the “shoot your ray gun first and question the brigand later” mindset.
“Jeanette, Manning’s right, and you know it. Miss Gunnels, please ensure all crew have their breathing apparatus on, though not triggered. Any not in their high altitude gear should change immediately. You and the other shipteens should cover their posts, two to a rudder, sail, or balloon.”
“Yes, sir.” Missy ran off and shared this order with Vrabel. Our Third Officer ensured the order to prep for higher altitude passed along to the crew, loud and clear.
As Captain and Executive Officer, we both had our high altitude gear and breathing apparatus on as a matter of course. However, on and active weren’t the same thing. I wasn’t ready to put in my breathing tube—the Captain and I still needed to be able to speak to each other and the crew clearly.
However, I risked taking a hand off the yoke to adjust my lenses for further distance and spectrum expansion. It was a risk I was glad I’d taken—one of our pursuers had gotten in front of us somehow and was lurking in our cloud bank.
“All hands, sails and wings in, balloons back, full steam, and hang on!” I pulled back on the yoke and our nose went up as Vrabel bellowed my orders on. The crew had already attached lifelines, when we’d first spotted our pursuers, so I had few worries that we’d lose someone overboard. I was worried we’d lose everyone by smashing into the terrifyingly odd thing in front of us.
We passed within arm’s length of this other ship, so we were all treated to a closer examination. I hoped Manning was paying attention.
At least, I assumed it was a ship. It looked nothing like any ship that sailed on water or through the air.
The Golden Voyager was a Dragon Schooner, meaning we had a base adapted along the design of longboats from the Vikings of old, complete with decorative dragon head and tail. There were also three sets of side “dragon wings” that could extend or retract. As with the head and tail, these were lovely, but were more than decoration—they helped with lift, ballast, and balance, and they also assisted when we needed to hover. The ship’s hull was three levels deep, and in addition to supplies and other cargo, we carried a crew of forty-four.
We did so because the Golden Voyager utilized a newer dirigible system that had sets of smaller balloons held within three larger ones, all controlled by an intricate system of ropes and pulleys. This gave us more maneuverability as well as lift capacity.
Because of our size, we also had sails, just as ships of the sea did, only ours were all jibs, not mainsails, and we had jib masts set all along the sides. When the balloons were at full, the dragon wings were extended to catch the upward air currents, and the sails were all out catching the wind, the Voyager was a beautiful sight—a gleaming dragon attired in crisp white sails and crimson and azure balloons showing our United Territories colors with pride.
The ships after us were all metal, with no sails or balloons at all in evidence, and less evidence of the beauty of design. They resembled upside-down soup bowls, but each had a rounded bump on top. They spun through the air, like a top, via no mechanism I could see. Unlike our ship, they were also all enclosed, though there were many portholes.
As we passed, I saw what looked like a giant bird’s head through one of those portholes. Somehow, the creature inside and I made eye contact. I felt no kinship, and the glare I received said that the creature felt none, either.
Manning came to us at a run. “Captain, we need to stop. They’re clearly more advanced than we are. We need to see if we can communicate.”
“Did you see it?” Captain Tucker asked, in almost a whisper. “It looked so … alien.”
“I believe the best communication will be a shot off their bow. We can aim for that glittery bump.”
Manning shook his head. “Now’s not the time for aggression, Miss Thompson. Now is the time to show that humanity is ready to face the greater universe.”
“Oh, could be, could be,” a sardonic voice said from behind me, before I could mention, yet again, that Manning was supposed to call me Ex-O. “On the other hand, it might be the time to show that humanity is the nasty, vicious piece of work it really is.”
* * *
I risked a look over my shoulder. Sure enough, our passengers were disobeying direct orders and, instead of remaining in their quarters, were standing behind me.
Sir Reginald was a man who gave Manning a good run for the money in the looks department, only he had long blond hair and was on the rangy side. He was royalty from Europe, or at least that’s what his manservant, Al, had told us when they’d booked passage on the Golden Voyager six weeks prior. They’d paid in pure gold, so we hadn’t asked for proof of a heraldic seal or birth records.
Al was also handsome, very muscular, with dark, wavy hair, though he was about half the size of Sir Reginald. Frankly, he was half the size of me.
“Why aren’t you two below decks as ordered?”
“Turbulence was terrible, Miss Thompson,” Sir Reginald said, shooting me a rakish grin. He was a passenger. He was allowed to call me Miss Thompson. Him being charming had nothing to do with it.
Manning could take a lesson from Sir Reginald. At one time I’d fancied the idea that Manning and I might, one day, match up. But unless courtly reserve, an inability to acknowledge my rank, and the desire to share all his knowledge with me at any reasonable opportunity were Manning’s way of showing interest, I’d accepted that unless I was a specimen for a Petri dish, I wasn’t someone Manning wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
But I was the Ex-O of the finest ship in the United Territories fleet, and if all Manning and I would be were fellow officers, then that would continue to be enough. Besides, th
e man drove me crazy.
Captain Tucker shook his head. “Jeanette’s right, Sir Reginald. It’s not safe for the two of you to be on deck right now.”
“I’m more interested in why Mister Gar is urging us to violence, not diplomacy,” Manning said. “Though I’m sure Doctor Parker has something for your weak stomach, Sir Reginald.” I’d spent the last six weeks with the strong impression that Manning didn’t like Sir Reginald. Had no idea why—as passengers went, Sir Reginald and Al had been charming, helpful, and entertaining. If all passengers were like them, we’d have had to add another level to the ship.
Two little furry heads peeped up out of Sir Reginald’s pockets. Al had said they were Guinea Cats, but he’d only said this after Manning had shared that he’d yet to set foot in New Guinea. Har and Ten looked nothing like real cats, but they were soft, loving, and adorable. And they, like Sir Reginald and Al, didn’t belong here.
Al shrugged. “Yes, I am. Why will become clear to you soon.”
“I believe Miss Thompson and our Captain both want you two below decks, however,” Manning shared. “Upcoming events or no.”
“What our Science Officer said.” One day, perhaps the man would use my title. Today didn’t seem to be that day, and since we had terrifying things to deal with, I chose to, once again, let Manning’s lack of protocol slide. “And while I’m sure Mister Manning doesn’t agree with Al, I must admit, the creature I saw in that ship, if it is a ship, didn’t give off the air of universal brotherhood.”
“It’s a ship,” Al said. “All six of them are ships.”
“There are six?” Captain Tucker asked. “I’ve only spotted four.”
“I’ve seen the six Al saw, Captain. And I say again, they don’t bode well for us.”
We crested the cloud bank and, as if to give punctuation, or concurrence, to my statements and thoughts, another one of these alien ships was waiting for us. It fired a blast from its edge.
Clockwork Universe Page 9