Aetherium (Omnibus Edition)

by Joseph Robert Lewis

  “Eh?” Hamuy rolled onto his side, squinting and coughing. “Baako? Is that you, you ugly sack of crap?” He grinned at the floor. “I’m in here!”

  The men started forward again and Taziri grabbed the hatch and slammed it shut, spinning the lock until it clanged tight.

  “What are we going to do?” The doctor pushed away from the window and sat down on the opposite side of the cabin, his back shoved against the wall.

  “The only thing we can do.” Taziri fell into the pilot’s seat and started flipping switches. As the electric motors whirred to life, the two men pounded on the hatch, demanding to be let in.

  “But we’re tied down to those metal pins in the ground.” Evander pointed to the mooring lines outside. “We can’t possibly take off.”

  “Of course we can.” Taziri grabbed one of the heavy levers under her seat and yanked it up. With a sharp click, the mooring rings on the gondola snapped open and the ropes fell to the ground. In that instant, a brisk morning breeze caught the Halcyon, lifting it roughly from the earth and propelling it sideways across the field, away from the men, and straight toward a row of small storage buildings lining the airfield a hundred yards away.

  “Uhm…” The doctor began tapping on the window as he stared at the white-washed stone structures rushing toward them. “Up? Up. More up. Up now. Go up!”

  “I’m working on it!” Taziri opened the throttles and spun the propellers down. The ship bucked as the engines tried to hurl the cabin up against the huge gas envelope, and after a moment’s struggle against the forces of inertia, the craft began to rise.

  “More! Up more!” As though buoyed by the Hellan’s cries, the airship clawed upward foot by foot and suddenly the grass rushing by beneath them gave way to gravel and pavement. And then a rooftop.

  A demonic scream of metal scraping on stone filled the cabin as the Halcyon shuddered and rocked. The floor vibrated as the scream stretched out longer and louder. The ship twisted to starboard, shaking harder as the hull ground across the slate tiles and crashed into brick chimneys and copper stovepipes. Taziri clenched her jaw, gripping the throttles tighter and tighter, shoving them against the stops with all her strength. Her left arm shuddered and for a moment her left hand lost its grip, but she forced her fingers closed and held on. Halcyon shrieked louder.

  And then all was silence and stillness. They glided effortlessly over the rooftops, and gradually the dull drone of the propellers reasserted itself in Taziri’s ears. Behind them, the airfield had already been reduced to a small green patch amidst the gray roads and pale stone buildings.

  “We’re safe.” Taziri released her death grip on the controls and cradled her left hand in her lap. She massaged the feeling back into her palm, though her little finger remained numb and her ring finger was tingling slightly. “No one can touch us now.”

  “Lovely.” Evander slumped down on his seat. “Except we’re up here with this bastard and all your friends are down there somewhere.”

  Taziri sighed and nodded. “One disaster at a time, please.”

  Hamuy snorted, then winced and shuddered, and lay back down flat on the floor.

  Chapter 10

  The major crouched in a dark corner of the warehouse. Leaning against a wooden crate, he felt a splinter pricking him in the back. Around the corner some twenty yards away, Barika Chaou was speaking in a voice too low to hear. There were at least three other people in the building, two men and a woman. Chaou was doing most of the talking. Syfax crept forward and picked out a few words.

  Telegraph. Shifrah. Arafez.

  The ambassador’s stolen horse whickered softly from some unseen corner. Syfax wondered absently what would happen to his own horse, which he left tied in front of a dingy excuse for a café at the edge of the district. Chaou had proven remarkably capable in the saddle, leaving the marshal clattering noisily up and down the empty pre-dawn streets of Port Chellah all alone. A quiet hour’s search on foot had proven more productive.

  Syfax held his revolver lightly as he tried to gauge the nature of the conversation that he couldn’t hear. Short sentences with no real discussion, like a commander giving orders. Maybe they’ll break up in a few minutes and leave the ambassador alone. Vulnerable. We can always pick up the small fry later when I’m not outnumbered.

  The soft murmuring ended. Footsteps echoed faintly throughout the warehouse, though none approached the marshal’s hiding place. Syfax peeked out and saw no one. He stood cautiously, then crept forward down the narrow space between the stacks of crates and surveyed the area. Nothing. The horse whickered again and the major dashed toward the sound. He rounded a corner, stepping out into the street, and leveled his gun at the small woman about to mount the horse. “Ambassador. Long time no see.”

  The older woman froze, and then slowly turned around with hands raised. “Major Zidane.”

  “Sorry I’m late, had a little horse trouble on the way over. Why don’t you step back and lie down on the ground for me? Right over there, in that mud.”

  Chaou stepped back from the horse. “I really wish you weren’t quite so persistent. You might force me to do something unfortunate. I don’t like hurting people, but I am capable of it, as poor Captain Aknin learned a short while ago.”

  “Don’t forget the captain of the Crake. You put a bullet in her, too.”

  “I’m not forgetting.” Chaou shook her head sharply. “Just not counting. If it hadn’t been for that stupid girl trying to be a hero, no one would have been hurt and the Crake would still be in one piece. And I wouldn’t have had to spend half the night walking through the woods.”

  Syfax scowled. “Seriously? You’re blaming the pilot girl?”

  “Please, major. Let’s not get caught up in details. Besides, that’s all in the past now. And as long as you’re pointing a gun at me, I’d like to talk to you about the future. Your future and the future of Marrakesh.” The ambassador leaned back against a crate, but quickly pushed away from it with a frown. “Dirt everywhere, you know. Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve heard your name quite a few times while staying with Lady Damya in Tingis. Everyone seems very impressed with you. So many arrests. But an unusual number of kills. Frankly, the brass seem a little concerned about what would happen if they promote you, but even more concerned about what would happen if they leave you on the street. Does that sound right?”

  “It sounds like you really like to hear yourself talk, lady. Now turn around and put your hands at the small of your back, slowly.” He fished around in his pockets for a set of cuffs.

  “I’d rather not.” Chaou didn’t move. “Does it seem right to you that your career has stalled because you are, essentially, too good at your job?”

  “I don’t question my superiors. They do their job, I do mine. Quick question for you. Who or what is a shifrah? I couldn’t help overhearing you a minute ago.”

  Chaou shook her head. “I don’t recognize the word. You must have misheard.”

  “Sure I did. Turn around or I might shoot you. Accidentally, of course.” He thumbed the hammer back.

  The ambassador gazed steadily up at him. “There is a problem with this country. We have the most powerful machines in the world, nearly limitless natural resources, and the most talented work force in history, and yet we bow to Darius in Persia and curry the favor of the Songhai lords. We go to endless lengths to placate the Bafours, the Kanemi, the Kel Ahaggar, Rome, Carthage, and even the slobbering Silver Prince in España. We pay them, we feed them, and we even arm them. Why?”

  “I don’t follow international politics. I’m more of a boxing fan.” Syfax rested his finger gently on the trigger. Is she actually trying to talk her way out of this? Or is she just stalling, hoping one of her little friends comes back? “And right now, I’m more concerned with local affairs. Speaking of which, where is your gun?”

  “I gave it to one of my friends, someone who can make better use of it than I can. I’m not very comfortable with firearms.”

 
“Heh. Me neither.” Syfax grinned as he roughly searched the ambassador’s pockets, her belt, her boots, even her hair. “So you really did handoff your gun? Well, I’ll just add weapons trafficking to the list of charges.” He holstered his gun, pulled a set of handcuffs free of his pocket, and closed one of the rings around the woman’s wrist.

  Chaou smiled thinly. “Regarding your career, major, I’ll come to the point. I’m prepared to offer you a colonel’s bars on that uniform of yours, a substantial increase in salary, and a position on the Marshal General’s personal staff.”

  Syfax grinned in spite of himself. “That is, without question, the single best bribe I have ever been offered. The last scumbag was only willing to spread her legs for me. But I don’t think an ambassador can give me a promotion.”

  “No, but the Marshal General can, and I can assure you that she’ll be prepared to deliver whatever I promise.” Chaou tilted her head to one side, bird-like. “Does the offer interest you?”

  “I’m still waiting to hear what all this generosity will cost me.” Syfax held the open cuff in his fist, wondering if it made more sense to cuff her hands together or to cuff her to himself.

  “Well, it involves you walking out of this place, alive and well, and leaving me and my associates to conduct our business in peace. And of course, I may expect some small favors from you, in your official capacity, from time to time. Naturally.”

  “Naturally.” Syfax listened for any sign of a returning associate. They seemed to be alone. “But you recently shot one of your buddies in the back of the head, so I’m not really enthusiastic about being your friend right now.” She’s really doing this. She’s really trying to recruit me. Idiot.

  “A fair criticism.” Chaou nodded slowly. “But in my defense, you scared me back at the tomb, and frankly I’m not one for unexpected situations. It’s against my nature. I prefer plans, and alternate plans, and backup plans, and contingency plans. Improvisation is not my strong suit. Successful negotiations with foreign governments are not about tact or grace, they are about planning. Anticipating. Preparing. Which is my way of saying that it is highly unlikely that I would ever shoot you in the back of the head. Although admittedly, not impossible.”

  “Well, that much I can believe.”

  “You see, major, I’m not in the business of making enemies. I much prefer making allies. We have enough enemies already.”

  “If you say so.” He was getting tired of standing around. Cuff her hands together. Definitely. If her friends do show up, I don’t need the dead weight on my arm. Syfax twisted the cuff around, trying to line it up with her free wrist but there was a kink in the little chain.

  “Major? Major Zidane!” The shout echoed from the far end of the warehouse.

  Syfax froze. Who the hell could that be?

  The ambassador raised an eyebrow. “It seems someone is looking for you.”

  “It does sound that way.” He flicked the open cuff back and forth in his free hand as he tried to identify the stranger. The yelling voice was closer now, louder and clearer. It was a woman’s voice.

  “I can only hope my friends don’t come back to see who is yelling. It poses a dilemma for both of us. A bloody shoot-out would be in no one’s best interests. But if you agree to my terms, everyone walks away in one piece,” Chaou said. “But I’m worried that I can’t really trust you right now, major.”

  “Then we’ll just have to risk a little bloodbath.” Syfax dropped the open cuff and reached for his revolver.

  The ambassador snaked her hand away and the marshal felt a tiny stinging sensation in his fingertips. A blade? A razor between her fingers? Syfax glanced down but didn’t see any cuts or blood on his hand.

  Chaou smiled. “Something the matter, major?”

  Syfax shook his hand to throw off the strange tingling under his skin and then he reached for the ambassador again. The older woman smiled and held out her own hand as though to shake his. Frowning, Syfax closed his fingers tightly around Chaou’s outstretched hand.

  Pain blossomed through Syfax’s arm and shoulder and neck. Every nerve buzzed and burned and the major tasted copper and oil in his empty mouth. Tiny lights danced across his vision, orange and green and purple. He yanked his hand back and lashed out with his other fist to knock the ambassador’s arm away. Syfax succeeded in hitting the older woman’s forearm as he collapsed to his side, clutching his arm and grinding his teeth, trying to blink his eyes clear of the lights. He opened his mouth, working his jaw to pop his ears. Dimly, he saw and heard Chaou mount her horse and gallop away down the street.

  “Major!” Boots thumped and Kenan dashed into view. “Major!”

  The corporal dropped to one knee and helped Syfax sit up. The orange and green spots faded and the numb buzzing in his arm gave way to a more painful and distracting ache. Syfax blinked and groaned, and spat. The street spun drunkenly to the left. He swallowed hard and blinked hard, trying to force his body into working properly.

  “Major? Are you all right?”

  “Mmm.” He nodded. Better not to use words, not yet. He gestured upward and Kenan helped him to his feet. He blinked a few more times and let the world resolve back into the shadowy shapes of warehouses and streetlights and horse dung.

  “Major, what happened?” Kenan’s voice was loud, too loud.

  Syfax rubbed his ear. “It felt like being stung by a thousand bees, on fire, on the inside. Where is she? Where’s Chaou?” He led the corporal into the street.

  “I didn’t see her.” Kenan fell into step behind him. “We came in through the other end of the warehouse.”

  “We? You brought Ohana?” Syfax stared down the road in the direction Chaou had ridden. “Where is she?”

  “No, she’s back on the airship. I brought Ghanima, the pilot you found in the wreck.” Kenan indicated the figure just jogging out of the warehouse behind them. “I think it was the right choice.”

  “Do you?” It wasn’t a question. The kid’s had half the night to come up with a plan and find me, and this is the best he could do?

  “She’s really something.”

  He glanced at his aide and saw the corporal’s grin. “Kid, we don’t drag civilians into an investigation unless they have something to contribute.”

  “Well, technically she’s not a civilian.” He massaged his head and kept grinning. “I mean, she’s in the Air Corps. Security Section Four. Transportation.”

  Syfax snapped his fingers in front of the corporal’s face. “Hey. This is not a debate.”

  Kenan stopped grinning. “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again, sir.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” Syfax studied the young woman in the orange jacket. The girl had her arms crossed and was absently tapping her foot as she glanced around the deserted road. Young, impatient, cocky. All I need right now. “Ghanima, right?”

  “Yes, major. We saw two people leaving the warehouse on the other side.” She pointed back over her shoulder. “Kenan wanted to follow them, but I thought where they’d been might be more interesting than where they were going.”

  “Good thinking.” Syfax forced a smile.

  “That’s when I started calling your name.”

  “Not good thinking.” Syfax stopped smiling. “Did you see which way Chaou went?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Fine.” The major glanced around at the empty street. “This warehouse was probably just a meeting place, not a center of operations.”

  “What kind of operations?” Kenan asked. “Did the ambassador say what she’s doing?”

  “She spouted some nationalistic gibberish. Nothing concrete. Either of you ever hear the word shifrah? Any idea what that means?”

  “No.” Ghanima said, “So where does that leave us?”

  “Nowhere, that’s where.” Syfax started walking. “I think Chaou electrocuted me with her hand. How the hell did she do that?”

  Kenan cleared his throat. “Actually, we might know the answer to that one.”


  “What do you mean?” Syfax kept his eyes on the road, scanning for recent hoof marks.

  “Back at the airship, Hamuy got a little out of hand and Taziri shot him, but it didn’t kill him,” Ghanima said. “Hamuy’s got a metal plate under his skin. Armor, surgically inserted. And he said that Chaou had something done to her as well. This must be what he meant.”

  Syfax squinted. Armor and electricity under the skin? That’s new. I hate new. “I assume Lieutenant Ohana had a good reason for shooting my prisoner.”

  Ghanima nodded. “To save me, sir.”

  “Fair enough,” Syfax said. “So, what did you do with him? Toss him in a jail cell? I mean, Hamuy’s not still on the airship with Ohana now, right? You didn’t leave them alone together?” The young officers were very quiet. Syfax glared at them. “Right?”

  Chapter 11

  She kept one eye on her gauges and needles and the sweeping views of the city slowly turning beneath the Halcyon. Taziri kept the other eye on the mirror’s image of Medur Hamuy lying on the floor behind her. “Doctor? How are you doing back there?”

  “Hm? What?” Evander sat up and scratched his beard. “What’s going on?”

  “I said—oh, never mind.” For the third time that hour, the view of the city below rotated to show her Port Chellah’s harbor. The waves sparkled like diamonds, bright and piercing.

  The doctor grumbled something in Hellan before saying, “Have you come up with a plan yet? Some place to go? Someone to talk to?”

  Hamuy grunted. “Of course she hasn’t. The idiot is just floating around up here, waiting for someone to come along and tell her what to do.”

  Taziri gripped the throttles a little tighter. Her eyes flicked over to the wrench lying on the engineer’s console.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Hamuy chuckled. “Pathetic.”

  Ignore him. “Doctor.” Taziri beckoned Evander to come up to the cockpit with a flick of her fingers. The older man crept around Hamuy and poked over the engineer’s shoulder. “Doctor, we may be up here for a while.”