Power Under Pressure (The Society of Steam)

by Andrew P. Mayer

  “Sacwe Dieu!” the Frenchman shouted, and reached out to touch the ship, as if his ancient arms might steady it somehow.

  The body slipped off and landed on the platform with a thud only a few feet away. It was dressed in a worn tweed coat, and for a moment Eschaton wondered if the thin figure was Jack, but kicking the body over with his foot revealed that the broken figure had only been one of his Blades.

  As the nose of the rocket rose into the courtyard the cries of battle could be heard more clearly. Eschaton looked over to the Frenchman. “It seems that one of your prophecies of doom has come true.”

  “I nevew expect wife to give me anything mowe zen it has so faw.”

  Eschaton nodded. “But there’s always hope.”

  As his eyes rose up over the edge of the ground he could see that the battle was in full swing. He was entirely unsurprised to discover that Sarah Stanton was one of the attacking “heroes,” although it was a surprise to see her dressed in a leather jacket similar to her father’s, along with a billowing red, white, and blue skirt.

  He was amused to see that she held two guns, one in either hand, and as one weapon burped out a wave of wind that knocked over four of Jack’s thugs like bowling skittles, the other fired bullets with a puff of smoke.

  The girl had more than likely been the cause of the man who fell through the ceiling, the wind from the gun blowing the boy helplessly into the hole and down to his death. “I thought you didn’t like killing men,” he yelled out at her.

  Sarah turned to look at him. Her face hardened into a grimace, and she took a shot at him. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off of his skin.

  She held up the other gun and fired a blast of wind at him. Having been thrown off his feet by the tiny weapon’s gale the last time they had faced each other, he leaned forward, and managed to remain standing.

  The Frenchman had hidden himself behind one of the thick fins of the rocket. He muttered “Mon Dieu” to himself over and over again as the massive machine rocked slightly in the breeze.

  Having weathered the onslaught, Eschaton stepped forward. He lifted up his spear and felt the living energy inside of him expand into it. He sent a searing light across the Omega-shaped blade, to hurl a bolt of living energy directly at the girl.

  But before he could finish, a new sensation ran up the entire back side of his body. At first it felt as if his flesh was burning, but he realized it was only his metal suit conducting waves of heat down into his flesh. Then he realized that he could feel the surface of the armor as if it was his own skin.

  As he turned to face the source of his pain, Eschaton realized he had been wrong about the light. What Eschaton had assumed to be sunlight was nothing of the sort. It had been the Mercurial Man exercising his miraculous abilities.

  Facing his greatest creation glowing with energy and power should have been a moment of ultimate satisfaction. There was no doubt that the transformation of the boy had been his greatest biological triumph. Eschaton had assumed that with the successful creation of a purified man he would prove his philosophical truths as well, but that had turned out to be a failure. The boy’s stubborn refusal to accept that he had become a god among men had shaken Eschaton to his very core, and forced him to take drastic action.

  “Eschaton,” Nathaniel yelled out. “We’re here to stop you and your mad plans.”

  When he had begun this plan, it had been his belief that a world full of purified humans would be a paradise and that all men—once shown their potential—would realize that no amount of sacrifice would be too much to rescue humanity from it’s pathetic state.

  “My name,” Eschaton pointed his spear at Nathaniel, letting his power and consciousness flow into it, “is King Omega!” He unleashed a ferocious torrent of electricity at the boy.

  Nathaniel, for all his power, appeared uniquely vulnerable to King Omega’s electrical attack. The living energy struck him hard, his transparent body writhing in agony. Eschaton concentrated, drawing on the stored energy in his suit to increase the power of his attack, and the boy fell writhing to the ground. He wished that he could have destroyed him utterly, wiping away the shame of his failure, but it seemed that there were limits to the Mercurial Man’s vulnerability.

  From somewhere nearby he heard a woman’s voice shouting with rage, and he turned to see that Sarah had engaged with one of his Children. The man had named himself Piston Pete, and Eschaton doubted it would take her long to best a “hero” who had done nothing more than create a set of metal gloves he wore over the tops of his hands. As the man charged Sarah, she quickly and efficiently fired a single shot from her father’s gun into the man’s leg. The almost casual efficiency of her attack made Eschaton regret that he hadn’t been able to use her instead of her step-brother for his experiments. He imagined she would take to her power far more quickly than Nathaniel had.

  The Stanton girl was fighting side by side with a second man, his face covered in a white hood, with a white leather mask over the top of that. It made him look like an angry owl. It took Eschaton only an instant to realize that it was Anubis dressed in a new costume.

  Almost as if she could sense his attention, Sarah turned and stormed toward him, guns in either hand, while Anubis held the Children at bay with his staff.

  Eschaton considered hurling a bolt of electricity at him, but he could feel that the spear needed a moment to rebuild its power.

  “What have you done with Tom?” she asked him.

  “He’s safe.” Although, if he had known that she would be coming to the machine man’s rescue, he might have finished dismembering him before coming to the surface. The Paragons and their progeny had an annoying habit of bringing the metal man back to life.

  And all he had ever really needed was the creature’s heart, although there had been some satisfaction to bringing suffering to Darby’s creation. But now that he held the key inside of his body there was little need even for that.

  He felt the power grow inside the weapon, and he lifted up his spear to deal with Sarah. Some part of him still wanted to spare her, and in the instant of hesitation Nathaniel once again came to her rescue. This time the boy was too close to stop, and Eschaton suddenly found himself grappling with the white hot fury of his own creation.

  The heat and ferocity caused Eschaton to drop his spear, but he still had more than enough energy to send bolt after bolt into Nathaniel.

  He could also feel Nathaniel’s heat pouring into him, climbing up his arms and into his body. But there was more going on here than simply the clash of elemental forces. He wondered if he might be outmatched, the youth of his opponent giving him more of the pure power that he needed. And the boy glowed so brightly that Eschaton was practically blinded, his squinting eyes unable to close out the dazzling brilliance.

  There were other complications, as well. Without the spear it was difficult to channel the power of the dynamos on his back. Omega let the energy pour out of him. The lightning arcing from his hands quickly overpowered the heat . . . or was it blending with it in some way? For a moment he could barely tell where his own power began and the Mercurial Man’s ended. It was a strange sensation . . .

  He heard Nathaniel shout as ever more electricity poured into him. For a moment his hands still held fast, and Omega wondered if the boy was even capable of letting go.

  Feeling a sense of desperation, and a slight moment of panic, Omega drew deeper, pulling not only the power from the reserves on his back, but also as deeply as he could from his own well of strength.

  “I’m here for ya, my lord,” said a familiar Irish voice. Then the Mercurial Man shuddered, his voice rising up to a scream. Eschaton saw the harpoons sticking out of Nathaniel’s back.

  After the second harpoon pierced him, sending splinters across his flesh, Nathaniel released his grip and staggered backwards.

  The arcs of energy from Omega’s hands were jumping between them now, scoring the boy’s flesh. For a moment Nathaniel simply stood writhing in pain, the
metal barbs in his back beginning to droop and melt away from the heat. Eschaton held out his hand, concentrated, then sent a blast of energy that dropped the boy to his knees.

  As the living electricity left him, Omega could feel his final reserves running out. He could restore all his energy in time, but the day was not yet won. He needed to conserve his power, due to the boy’s inability to recognize his defeat.

  Omega ran toward Nathaniel. “Fall, damn you!” he shouted as he kicked the boy in the face. “Fall down!” he yelled again and delivered a second blow, this time with his fist. He could feel Nathaniel’s jaw shattering beneath the punch, and the Mercurial Man finally fell backwards to the ground. “Good boy,” he said, and gave him another, harder kick, sending Nathaniel’s clear flesh tumbling across the ground like broken glass.

  Two more kicks to the head and the Mercurial Man’s glowing skin dimmed, leaving him transparent once again.

  Nathaniel had landed on his back, but the melted metal of the harpoon barbs propped him up as if he were sitting on some torturous chair. Inside the boy’s clear body a sliver of silver still swirled through him, racing to repair areas that had been burned and broken. It rose up into his head and pooled into his jaw. Somehow the liquid seemed to know where he was injured. “Not dead yet, are we, boy?” He hesitated and looked around. The Bomb Lance was reloading barbs into his frame.

  But it was unnecessary. Without Nathaniel to scare away the Children, the battle was quickly turning against the would-be Paragons that remained. The two of them were surrounded by Blades, and this time Jack was there to lead his men. As Sarah brought her pneumatic gun to bear, a blade stuck fast in her hand. She let out a yelp and dropped the weapon. The blade hadn’t gone deep, but it had done its job.

  “Sorry, girl,” said Jack stepping closer. “We’ve had quite enough of your gusty gun for today.” He grabbed her and pulled her away from her companion.

  The white-masked man growled out a response. “Damn you, Jack.”

  Omega nodded at him. “That really is you, isn’t it, Anubis? I’d have thought you’d have known better than to come back here.”

  “My name is Ra now.”

  Omega laughed and bent over to pick up his spear. “Of course it is.” Holding it up, he shot an arc across the courtyard. When the electricity touched Abraham, he dropped like a stone.

  “What do we do with her?” Jack asked.

  “Let her go,” Omega replied. The thin man smiled and gave her a hard shove. Another bolt of energy dropped her to the ground.

  “Now tie them up.” Omega walked back over to Nathaniel, who was lying on the ground. “I have a plan for them.”

  He lifted his spear over the Mercurial Man. “But you are done.” It was impressive to see just how much repair the metal that flowed through the boy’s veins had already done. It was a shame that he had been forced to do this. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’d hoped that you would realize the value of the gift that you’d been given, before it was too late.”

  He had not realized that Nathaniel was awake, and when he turned to look at him, Omega imagined he could see the sadness in his transparent eyes. “Did you think I’d thank you for this?” he asked. His voice was trembling with pain. “You’re nothing but a freak, Eschaton, and now you’ve made me one, too.”

  The silver giant shook his head. He had been so sure that the act of purification would grant enlightenment, and it saddened him to realize that most of humanity simply wasn’t ready to accept the possibilities. In the new world he would teach the survivors, but he had no more time to waste with failures. “Let’s rectify my mistake.”

  Eschaton crossed his hands and flipped the spear over. It crackled with energy as he held it above Nathaniel’s chest, the resentment and anger he felt for the boy’s betrayal charging it with power.

  “Do it, then,” Nathaniel said.

  The spear crackled loudly as he thrust it down hard into the boy’s chest. The glassy flesh resisted at first, but finally gave way as he wedged the pointed end back and forth, driving the blade deeper and deeper into the Mercurial Man’s body and cracking him apart.

  As he expected, the silver liquid under Nathaniel’s skin began to swirl around the wound. When most of it had gathered at the tip of the spear, Eschaton ignited the device with electrical energy.

  The Mercurial Man began to glow for the last time. This time, the light came from the living electricity as it cascaded through Nathaniel’s body. Omega poured the energy into him for as long as he could, only stopping when he had nothing left to give.

  As the light faded, what remained of the Mercurial Man’s body was now shattered and scorched, the silver inside of him burned away, replaced with black and brown.

  He pulled the spear free and took a step back. The battle was almost over. It was time to move forward.

  “All right, Jean-Jean,” Eschaton said, turning toward the Frenchman who still hid behind the fins of the rocket. “It’s time to finish this.”

  Chapter 26: The End of the World

  CHAPTER 26

  THE END OF THE WORLD

  As Sarah awoke, she began to regain control of her senses. Somehow she was hanging high above the ground, and felt pain in all her limbs.

  A quick look down told her all she needed to know: she had been chained directly onto the metal frame of Eschaton’s rocket. The tight metal links were biting deeply and painfully into her legs, and she was thankful that her father’s leather jacket was cushioning her from the pain the metal would have caused her upper body.

  As her eyes adjusted, Sarah looked down across the courtyard to see that it was now half-filled with milling villains. These were the remains of Eschaton’s so-called Children. Most of them were strangers, but a few of the men were familiar to her now. She recognized one of them as Donny, the gap-toothed boy who had threatened her that night at the theater before Tom had returned to life and saved her.

  Glancing up, Sarah could see the clouds sweeping across the sky, pushed by a warm summer wind. Rays of sunlight broke through the gray, lighting up the day. They reflected off Nathaniel’s clear skin down below. His prone form still lay on the ground where Eschaton had pierced him with his deadly spear. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel.”

  “He may end up being the lucky one,” growled a voice to the side of her. Sarah turned to see the white-masked face of Ra. They had let him keep his secret identity, although they had stripped her of her own mask.

  “Abraham! Are you all right?”

  He laughed, and then coughed, his chestplate clearly not protecting him from the chains as effectively as her jacket was. “I suppose it was foolish to think that we ever could have stopped him.”

  Sarah frowned. “But we had to try. And I’m glad you joined us in the end.”

  “I’ve learned that I’m not quite as good at keeping my word as I thought I was . . .” Abraham had revealed himself as Ra after scaring the living daylights out of her in the accounting room. He had come to visit her numerous times at the junkyard, but never in costume. And now, here he was again—reborn as a new hero, only to be trapped by the same villains who had destroyed his previous identity.

  Omega—Eschaton—walked toward the rocket. “Children of Eschaton! Gather around me! Our time has come!”

  As the men came together, she realized that there were more than a hundred of them now. Two dozen or so were Jack’s Blades, and they clumped together in a group of tweed-jacketed ruffians. The Society of Steam had gone from four to two in the space of an afternoon. She hoped that Emilio had at least escaped, but she doubted that he would be able to get free from the basement.

  Bomb Lance stood, as he almost always did, right at Eschaton’s side. The man had more lives than a cat, and fewer morals. If she was going to die soon—and it seemed very likely that she was—it would be one of her greatest regrets that she hadn’t removed that murderous villain from the world before she departed from it herself.

  The rest of the Children seemed to primarily be a
motley group of would-be heroes. Looking at them, dressed up in their ridiculous costumes, it was hard not to feel a bit sorry for them all. They clearly wanted to be like the Paragons so very much that they were willing to join a madman and destroy the world simply for a chance.

  “My Children,” Eschaton said, raising his weapon into the air, “we are about to change everything!” For a moment she thought she saw the silver man falter, but he righted himself so quickly that she was almost convinced that it had been her mind playing a trick on her. Though, perhaps defeating them had taken more out of the villain than he was letting on.

  Almost as if in response to her doubt, the dynamos on Eschaton’s back glowed, and suddenly a wave of energy burst forth, igniting the spear, and bolts shot into the air. She found herself gasping as the Children stepped back.

  He pointed a glowing silver hand directly up at her and Ra. “My enemies have fallen, my plan is complete, and now there is only one thing left to do: it is time to ignite the rocket and bring about the true Eschaton!”

  A cheer went up from the men, but it seemed that the events of the day had sapped at least some of their enthusiasm. She could only imagine that many of them were fearful that they wouldn’t survive the process of purification.

  “So why doesn’t he get on with it?” she heard Abraham asking her.

  Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but instead it hung open in surprise. She had noticed two men entering into the courtyard. One of them, wearing an insect-headed mask with long metal arms, was instantly familiar to her. As he looked up at her and waved, she prayed that she was the only one who noticed the dashing fool who had come to her rescue.

  The other figure was dressed in rags, and moved with a strange, almost disturbing stride. Sarah closed her mouth and willed herself to show no emotional response—to give nothing away to the crowd of villains below.

  “In this new world,” Eschaton shouted out, “we will all be equal men. But I have discovered that even among equals there must still be one who leads.”