by Wol-vriey
“Metal Feather says you set her up to grind daddy’s Little John to mince.”
Big Chief glowered in smoldering rage. “You heard Delicate Rose, caterpillar.”
Baker expelled a large cloud of cigar smoke, then affected a bored yawn.
“Okay, it’s true, I set it up – So what? You can’t touch me; you know that. I’m under the goddess’s protection. You kill me, your life’s worth nothing at all once the Pumas find out about it.”
Big Chief laughed. “Only if there’s a witness left to tell them.” He looked at Alice. “Miss Paleface, I assume you’re a prisoner desiring freedom from torture and other Texan crimes against your person?”
Alice nodded vigorously.
“Are you willing to testify in a Dallas court that this caterpillar killed himself, in exchange for said freedom?”
“Sure,” Alice said, pointing to the crown prince and Crank, still propped against the remnants of a wall. “But only on the condition that my brother and our robot go free as well. They’ll testify too, if you’d like.”
Big Chief noticed Crank for the first time. “Nice robot,” he said, turning to shrug at Baker. “See, we’ve three alibis already – your murder just became a violent suicide.”
Baker’s eyes opened wide as the cigar dropped from his mouth. “I . . . I was only joking, it wasn’t me! I’d . . . you know I’d never . . .”
“You know something, Uncle?” Delicate Rose said. “Till you admitted it just now, we’d no proof against you. Metal Feather ran away before we could make her admit you put her up to grinding daddy.”
“Yeah, caterpillar,” said the Sioux chief. “Rosie merely suggested we accuse you, just to see what you’d have to say. You spared us the trouble of beating it out of you.”
Baker gaped in horror. “I was only joking, she said she wouldn’t hurt . . .”
Big Chief Little John’s tomahawk rose high above his head, then descended, splitting both Baker and the table he sat upon in two.
Alice shrieked as she was showered with splinters and gobs of caterpillar. The table halves clattered to the floor on either side of her, Baker’s halves splattering the ground between. The dead caterpillar writhed for a moment or two, like it was trying to pull itself back together. Then it stopped moving and settled down into a slick of green gore.
Big Chief’s daughter, Delicate Rose, now pointed at the shaking Graceland boys. Three squaws walked over to them and promptly slit the cow-people’s throats.
The three bullyboys sank to the ground, gurgling blood. One of Aron’s horns speared Jackson in the foot on his way down. The prince was still so out of it, he didn’t even notice.
Big Chief looked over at Alice. “You three had better come with us,” he said. “The Pumas will be here soon, and they’re bitches from Hell.” He then turned back to his tribe. “Collect the remaining cattle!”
The Mech-Sioux got to work re-rustling the pre-rustled cows.
Alice walked over to Crank and wound him up.
Delicate Rose had some braves carry Prince Jackson over to one of their vehicles, a steamcoach. Alice and Crank climbed in after them and they set off for the Mech-Sioux village.
Chapter 2
Interlude
Metal Feather simply shrugged at Baker’s gory death. She was unmoved. Her only thought now was to inform the Pumas of the theft of her majesty’s cows.
Seated upon her black stallion, she watched the goings-on at Baker’s ranch from behind the wreckage of a rustler-robot. She’d been trailing the Mech-Sioux, and had arrived at the ranch just as they blew the mushroom cake house sky-high.
Metal Feather was tall, buxom, and beautiful. The long, thick scar on one side of her face lent an air of rugged capability to her features.
She was Mech-Sioux herself, and also queen Mech-Anna’s top spy-mistress.
Her recent punitive mission against Big Chief Little John had gone extremely well – the goddess was satisfied – but apparently he still hadn’t learnt his lesson.
Time to ride.
She yanked her mount’s reins with her metal right hand, turning it to face the far-off hills. “Let’s go see the Pumas,” she told her horse. “They’ll need to recover the queen’s loot and fix those bullheaded Indian traitors once and for all.”
The horse neighed back its lack of comprehension.
Then, speaking a language it could actually understand, Metal Feather dug her spurs in deep and rode off across the grasslands.
It would’ve been much faster to send an emergency message like this via Cheshire Cat, but everyone knew there were no Cheshires in Texas.
Chapter 3
The Mech-Sioux’s vehicles were as varied as their own cybernetically augmented bodies. They ranged from steamcoaches like the Graceland’s vehicle (which the Mech-Sioux built for Baker) to steamcars (smaller, faster versions of the coaches) to motorized unicycles and bicycles.
In addition to these, they also had large, uncovered wagons built from modified train carriages and steam engines, used for transporting the re-rustled cows. Though unusually fast for their size, the Mech-Sioux transports rumbled and shook as they moved, vibrating with the force of the water boiling within their massive engines. Their exposed metal surfaces were perpetually warm from the heat conduction.
“Your brother’s cute,” Delicate Rose told Alice.
Alice grimaced at the thought of them together. She pointed to Jackson’s hands, still gripping his bloody sickle and Marie’s left kidney tight. “He’s also very dangerous. You’re better off steering clear – He hurts people for fun.”
Delicate Rose laughed. “He’s like the Pumas then; they also hurt people for fun. But he’s human – I like him.”
She crossed her stilt legs at the knees and stroked Jackson’s head gently. “He’s not too badly damaged. Our medical braves will fix him up in no time.”
Jackson woke up then and smiled at her.
Alice was beside herself. Well, she had warned the woman . . .
***
The Mech-Sioux village was situated in a valley ten miles outside Tulsa.
“
“We’ll find a way to escape,” Alice whispered back. “Though we might not need to –these Indians don’t seem to care for Mech-Anna very much, so they might willingly assist us.”
“
Most of the dwellings in the village were normal teepees, cones of cowhide stretched over wood and metal frames, with faint wisps of smoke pouring from the holes in their roofs. In the spaces between the cattle corrals ringing the village walls stood partly-constructed rustlers and other esoteric machines.
There were a few large administrative wigwams, some similarly sized hospital wigwams, and several monstrous metal wigwams that dwarfed all the rest.
“Those are our bio-engineering research facilities,” Delicate Rose explained to Alice and Crank, as they passed one such building, “where our new body augmentation processes are perfected.”
***
The village was enclosed by a low wall patrolled by guards. Just inside its perimeter were large herds of cows penned up in corrals.
“You’d never have imagined there were so many cows in Victorian America,” Alice mentioned to the chief’s daughter. “What do you do with all of them? You’ve surely too many to eat here.”
“We trade most of them to buyers up north,” Delicate Rose replied. “Most of these will likely get rustled again, which we re-rustle in turn.”
“
“What do you mean?” Delicate Rose asked.
“
T THEIR SOLE PURPOSE IN LIFE IS TO BE STOLEN BACK AND FORTH AD INFINITUM.”
Alice and Delicate Rose both laughed at that.
***
The Mech-Sioux’s melding of flesh and metal didn’t end with their own bodies. Their camp thronged with mechanically augmented animals as well – dogs, goats and sheep, and even chickens with metal heads, wings, and legs.
A dog with wheels instead of hind legs ran/rolled past them in the opposite direction.
Alice was flabbergasted.
“They’re research specimens,” Delicate Rose explained. Our bio-engineers have endless demand from the tribe for new surgical procedures, and they have to try them out somewhere.”
Chapter 4
“We Mech-Sioux are no friends of the Clockwork Goddess,” Big Chief Little John told the assembled guests. “We already know that you three are from New York, so we shall assist you in any way we can.”
Alice looked at Crank. Prince Jackson sat in a corner of the headman’s teepee, heavily bandaged and being tended to by Delicate Rose, who was apparently besotted by him.
“How did you know we’re New Yorkers?” Alice asked.
“The caterpillar wouldn’t have been torturing you otherwise. He hates, hated, New Yorkers. Baker recently told me he’d been kept prisoner for two years by a Yorker royal – some ‘Mad Hatter’ person. An imaginary story, of course, but enough for him to justify his vendetta.”
“You’ve nothing to fear here,” Delicate Rose reassured them. “Any enemies of the Clockwork Goddess are friends of ours.”
“
“Only those who agree with Mech-Anna’s senseless war,” Big Chief said. “And lately, less and less Texans agree.”
Two squaws entered then, both of them laden with heavy rawhide bags. They had telescoping mechanical eyes and arms plated with fine, fish-like metal scales. Though clad in skirts of brown leather, they were both topless, their breasts covered by metal cups that looked as though they might twist off at the nipple.
The squaws noticed the visitors and looked to Big Chief, their eyestalks spiraling outward in enquiry.
“It’s okay,” he told them, “these are our friends.”
They approached his throne and squatted before him, one of them alongside his mechanical arm, the other by his mechanical leg. Producing screwdrivers, bottles of machine oil, and cleaning implements from their bags, they began the process of unscrewing the headman’s limbs so as to service them.
“The Goddess is a fickle woman,” Delicate Rose said, her face creasing in anger. “She seeks to go back on honorable agreements. Father and Uncle Caterpillar were a partnership, but Uncle Caterpillar got greedy.”
“Two years ago Baker vanished,” Big Chief continued. “I ran our rustling business in his absence, keeping his share of the profits safe – we were old friends – and then he returns only to stab me in the back.”
At this, Little John couldn’t help but stare down at the flat front of his loincloth, considering whether ‘back’ was the correct term.
“As I stated before, he claimed to have been held prisoner by his lordship, the Mad Hatter, in New York.”
None of the New Yorkers said anything, but all of the Indians laughed.
The Mech-Sioux headman continued. “A most ludicrous excuse, of course, but I gave him his share of the profits anyway, minus a deduction for overseeing the ranch in his absence. Then he goes off to see her goddessry the queen and convinces her that I’m responsible for sending him into exile, and worse still, that I’ve been shortchanging the army on stolen cows. Apparently, it also claimed knowledge of a plot to assassinate the goddess and linked me and my daughter to the assassins.”
“Uncle Caterpillar always had trouble thinking straight, or following any thread of logic to its end,” Delicate Rose said. “Even as a little girl, I remember him wanting to blend cows into cakes and call them cowpats . . .”
The squaw mechanics had by now removed the metal plating from Big Chief’s mechanical limbs, oiling and cleaning their interior parts. The northerners could see the immense gears controlling them. There were cables welded into the metal ‘bones’, strung through grooved cylinders at each joint, and hydraulic levers with miniaturized steam boilers. The combined effect was to reduce the immense weight of the limbs, thus enabling Big Chief to wield them with ease.
Of particular note was the fact that the limbs were both riveted into the bone of their respective joints, and also woven into his body’s musculature by metal cords. Then there were the multitude of thin wires abutting on his nerve endings, allowing for precision movement.
The squaw mechanics extended their telescopic eyes a full foot out of their heads to peer closely at the component parts, examining them for wear and tear, rust and metal fatigue. Alice had to wonder whether the Mech-Sioux grafted these artificial limbs onto themselves as a result of injuries sustained, or simply due to tribal idiosyncrasy – i.e. Mech-Sioux were Mech-Sioux by nature of their fetishistic augmentations.
The half-mechanical dog they’d seen earlier, with wheels instead of rear legs, walked/rolled into the teepee. They saw now that it had a metal tail as well. It headed straight for Crank, lying down between the robot’s legs and scratching at the ground beneath him. Despite Delicate Rose’s earlier explanation, Alice couldn’t surmount her feeling that there was something cruel about modifying other animals.
“Even so,” Jackson finally spoke, “why would Baker blame the chief for its alleged abduction?”
Big Chief sighed. “I was with the caterpillar in its laboratory when it disappeared. He had just begun researching explosive cakes when he mistakenly substituted gelignite for gelatin. There was an almighty explosion – the very roof of his house was blown off – and he was sent, presumably, to the moon.”
“That was the last we saw of Baker for two years,” added the squaw mechanic cleaning the headman’s leg. “We assumed he had been killed, but since we never found his body, never concluded so.” She unscrewed the tube conveying hydraulic fluid between his knee and ankle joints, testing the viscosity of it contents.
Delicate Rose then took up the narrative. “Once it returned, the caterpillar claimed father intentionally substituted the explosive for gelatin, intending to kill it and take over the business.”
“
The mech-dog had by now fallen asleep between his legs. It lay belly-up, its wheels slowly rotating as it snored.
The squaws laughed, then one of them fetched a cup and poured some oil.
***
That night Alice and Big Chief sat outside his teepee, drinking corn beer and talking.
Crank was off with the Mech-Sioux technicians, who were examining him for clues on miniaturizing their larger Texan machines. Alice had last seen Jackson and Delicate Rose staggering off together. She was initially bothered to see that Jackson still had his sickle hanging from his belt, but then she relaxed. Even in the unlikely event that Jackson regressed, Delicate Rose looked more than capable of handling herself in a fight.
They drank their beer from chicken-mugs. Big Chief made two small piles of corn on the ground by their feet, so they wouldn’t wander off when set down between sips. Feeding them corn was also the only way to ensure that they replenished themselves with fresh corn beer. For every few kernels the chickens ingested, another half ounce accumulated in their back reservoirs.
Over the course of their conversation, Alice and Big Chief noted many comparisons between New York and Texas, laughing much of the time. Eventually, though, she had to ask a question that took him aback somwhat.
“Since arriving in Texas, I keep hearing about this ‘Metal Feather’,” she said. “Who is, or was, she exactly?”
Big Chief looked pained by her question. Alice realized that she’d reopened a wound. “It’s okay if you’d rather not discus
s it,” she said.
Big Chief smiled sadly. “No no, I’ll tell you, Alice Paleface. It’s just that each memory of her fills me with anger.”
The Indian headman liked Alice Paleface. She seemed so nice and innocent, but then he remembered how looks were ultimately deceptive.
Metal Feather had seemed nice and innocent too, at first.
Big Chief took a long sip from his chicken-cup and proceeded to tell Alice their story.
Chapter 5
The Ballad of Big Chief and Metal Feather
Metal Feather was the daughter of the previous Mech-Sioux headman.
The Mech-Sioux succession traveled exclusively through their male genes, i.e. there were no headwomen. An ancient Mech-Sioux chief had once commented that, “left to our squaws, all our glorious Sioux research time would be spent on perfecting cosmetic surgery, giving themselves bigger breasts and more paleface noses.”
Past chief’s daughters were compensated with the post of ‘wisewoman’. There were occasionally several wisewomen in the tribe. Their positions often overlapped, depending on how many past headman’s daughters were still alive at any given point in time.
This system had served the tribe well for over two hundred years.
When Big Chief Little John died (passing on to the mechanical rustling grounds in the sky), someone else would take over the post of headman. Delicate Rose would become a wisewoman. That was accepted.
When he’d first become headman, however, his predecessor’s daughter, Metal Feather, had disappeared. Rumors circulated that she’d been captured by the Texan army.
There’d been nothing further on her whereabouts until one day Baker reported finding her in a military jail in Fort Worth. The tribe had prevailed upon the caterpillar to help her break out. He agreed to as much, and two weeks later delivered Metal Feather back to them.