by Gareth Ward
Nimrod smiled encouragingly at the three runners. “Come on; think about it. Even if you don’t know you can work out two of them.”
Sin kept his arms by his side. Why pick on the street kids? It wasn’t fair. He should ask one of the schooled candidates who knew this stuff. He should ask Zonda, she’d be delighted to answer. Grundy’s hand tentatively lifted and Sin thought he was off the hook, then Nimrod aimed the pointer straight at him and his heart jumped. Why was Nimrod picking on him? He must have seen his test results. He must know he had no education. Was he trying to show him up in front of the class? It was hard enough for him as it was, knowing everyone was cleverer than him. Picking on him was just giving the likes of Jasper Jenkins even more reason to rub his nose in it.
“Sin, name a source,” said Nimrod.
“Tomato?” answered Sin.
The class burst into laughter. Even Zonda couldn’t suppress the smile from her lips. Red pins of embarrassment prickled Sin’s face. He bit down hard, anger in his eyes. Fists clenched, he kicked his stool backwards and stormed from the lab.
* * *
Sin paced his room, boiling with rage. He wanted to smash something or fight someone, or even get a beating, anything to take these feelings away. He’d nearly thrown his chair out of the window but he wanted to stay at COG so he’d fought the urge. The echoes of the laughter replayed in his brain and the anger roiled. One particular laugh cut through the cacophony of merriment, stinging his ears and piercing deep into his soul: the delighted cackle of Velvet Von Darque.
There was a knock at the door.
“Leave me alone,” he shouted and kicked the bed.
The door pushed open. “I came to see if you were all right,” said Nimrod.
“Oh, I’m just flipping danderific, can’t you tell?”
Nimrod removed his tweed jacket and draped it over the chair. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot like that. I was hoping you would get the answer. I was wrong to do so. The mistake was mine, not yours.” Nimrod’s voice hardened. “Look at me, Sin.”
Fury still burned within him yet he turned his head towards the scientist.
“I want you to understand that I am genuinely sorry for any hurt caused.”
“What do you care about a toerag like me? I’m just a cog in your machine.”
“I care because I was a toerag like you.”
“You? You’re soft as fresh horse doings.”
Nimrod pulled the shirt tails from his trousers and lifted the material clear of his back. Pale white scars crisscrossed the skin. “My shoulders are worse. Hard as it may be to believe, as a child I was diabolical at chemistry and the Sisters weren’t kindly if you didn’t know your scripture or your periodic table.”
Sin ran a hand over his own shoulder, feeling the ridged scarring. “You were raised by the Sisters of Sacred Science?”
“Until fortune smiled on me and a kindly Coxford professor took me in. I was younger than you, but I got a chance in life. This is your chance, Sin. Take the blighter with both hands and don’t let it go.”
“You started off like me, unable to read and write?”
Nimrod waggled his glasses. “I started off worse than you. I could hardly see until the professor fixed my eyes.”
Sin cocked his head to one side, cricking his neck. “So what are the three basic sources of motive power?”
“Steam, clockwork and chemical, with chemical being the primary source. I can explain the theory in your detention after dinner this evening.”
Sin straightened his neck and squared his shoulders, glowering at Nimrod. “Detention?”
“You can’t storm out of class and not expect consequences. Besides, I’m not supposed to give private tuition, but I can give as many detentions as I like.”
The bad-tempered expression melted from Sin’s face as the penny dropped. Nimrod patted Sin’s shoulder. “You’re going to do fine here, Sin. I’ll make sure of that. Now you need to get to the arena for combat training.” Nimrod retrieved his jacket. “And a word of advice. If Staff Von Darque asks you to hit her, try your hardest to do so.”
CHAPTER 12
MURDEROUS MACHINES
The arena was a hexagonal hall set apart from the main palace. Racks of every conceivable weapon lined the walls, from samurai swords, to Teutonian crossbows, to inventions of Nimrod’s that didn’t officially exist. Lilith and Eldritch faced off on a circle of white sand at the centre of the arena. Dressed in their everyday finery, they looked more like they were out for a Sunday afternoon stroll than preparing for gladiatorial combat.
Sin hurried towards the throng of candidates who huddled around the brassanium and ironglass safety screens that enclosed the arena. He spotted Zonda shifting nervously from foot to foot, the ruffle on her dress fluttering like a swarm of irritated butterflies. Velvet stood statuesque beside her, cool as a cucumber sandwich. He eased between them and pressed his face to the ironglass. “This should be good. Eldritch chased me down in Coxford without breaking a sweat.”
“A man trying to hurt a woman is never good,” said Zonda.
Velvet turned. “Mother fought hard to get women accepted into COG, we can’t afford to be seen as shrinking violets.”
“I just don’t think violence should be the answer.”
“True enough,” said Velvet, “but unfortunately it’s men asking the questions.”
Lilith swung her silk parasol as Eldritch removed his bowler hat. She caught the parasol’s point and levelled it, rifle-like. A steel harpoon shot from its centre in an explosion of steam. In an instant, the brim of Eldritch’s hat expanded to four times its size, forming a buckler shield. He dodged sideways, swatted the lethal bolt away and raised his walking stick. The cane’s ebony outer sheath fired at Lilith. More of a distraction than a serious threat, Eldritch took the opportunity to attack with the internal blade now revealed. Lilith pirouetted away and the folds of her dress raised outwards in a spinning circle of razor-edged fabric. Eldritch withdrew, his rapier poised. Lilith spun to a halt, parasol raised. Discarding the bowler hat buckler, Eldritch circled Lilith, feinting with the rapier, testing her defence. He twitched the blade right and lunged. Lilith’s parasol cut down, blocking the attack. Eldritch thrust his left hand towards Lilith’s throat. A contraption concealed in his coat sleeve delivered a bayonet to his hand and he pressed the blade against her windpipe.
“I yield,” said Lilith, her eyes burning with hatred.
Steam erupted from the base of the safety screens and they sank into the ground.
Eldritch lowered the bayonet and turned to the candidates. “A COG mission without confrontation is a good mission. We prefer stealth and guile but there are times when combat is unavoidable.” Eldritch flicked his wrist and the bayonet disappeared up his sleeve. “If you have to fight, you do whatever it takes to win. There are no rules or chivalry; that will only get you dead.”
Lilith planted her parasol in the sand. “Although still in training, when the need arises, you will be sent on missions. So we have to ensure you are ready.” She gestured at one of the East Wingers, a chunky boy with cropped hair. “You. Come here.”
Jimmy Ace seemed hesitant as he stepped into the ring. Lilith looked him up and down. “You boxed for your school?”
“Yes, ma’am, I got a blue.”
Lilith pointed to her chin. “Hit me just there.”
“But we’re not supposed to hit ladies.”
Lilith’s hand shot out and the heel of her palm struck Jimmy on the jaw. His feet lifted and he crumpled backwards onto the sand. Lilith ignored him, addressing the remaining candidates. “There are no rules or chivalry. Let’s try again. COG Wagtail step up.”
Beuford Wagtail cracked his knuckles and walked up to Lilith with a gunslinger’s swagger. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Same as before, hit me just here.”
Beuford drew his arm back and threw a haymaker punch. Lilith squealed and cowered, her arms held defensively in front of her f
ace. Beuford pulled the punch, his meaty fist hanging in midair. Lilith’s leg flicked from beneath her dress and she kicked him in the clockworks. There was a collective intake of breath from the boys as Beuford sank to the ground, moaning in agony.
“Girls, when we fight, we are not ladies. Men will hesitate and underestimate you; be sure to use that to your full benefit.” Lilith beckoned to Sin. “COG Sin. Your turn.”
Wary as a cat on the hunt Sin prowled into the ring. He guessed he had an advantage over the other candidates. He’d never been in a fight with rules, or if he had, there was only one rule: survival.
Lilith indicated her chin. “Same again, hit–”
Sin didn’t wait for her to finish. No rules. He sent his fist flying in an uppercut. Lilith arched backwards, the punch missing her chin by a whisper. Sin went to follow up with his left but Lilith stepped away applauding. “Well done, COG Sin. I yield. You may stand down.”
Sin backed away cautiously, unsure of whether this was still a test and certain he didn’t want to end up like Beuford and Jimmy.
Eldritch, having disposed of his rapier, returned to the ring. “Boys with me, girls with Staff Von Darque.”
Sin and Stanley helped Jimmy and Beuford to their feet and followed Eldritch to a training area at the side of the arena. Eldritch removed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
“The foreign news section of the Coxford Standard reports that tensions are high along the Ruskovian border after a brigade of Chinasian Manchus were in lively skirmishes with a division of Cossacks.” He pointed to a scar on his forearm. “A memento I gained from a Cossack Shashka during the Balkans campaign. The Ruskovians are a formidable foe but you underestimate the Chinasians at your peril.”
Eldritch spread his feet apart and bent his legs, lowering his body. “We have very little time to get you mission-ready. Pay attention, work hard and kung-fu may just save your life.” His arms snapped back and forth in a series of well-executed punches, making his fists a blur. “Right, boys, lesson one: Zhang Yu, arms of the Octopus.”
* * *
Sweat dripped from Sin’s brow. They’d spent the last hour kicking, blocking and punching while shouting strange words like “ki-ah”. His arms were bruised and his legs ached, but he was beginning to see the benefits of a more disciplined approach to fighting. He was partnered up with Jimmy, who despite the smacking he’d got from Lilith, was an accomplished fighter. Eldritch sauntered over. “COG Ace, go practise with another group. COG Sin, I want to see what you’ve learned.” Eldritch held up his hands palm outwards. “Hit my hand.”
Sin slammed his right fist into Eldritch’s palm. “Good. Raise your shoulders and twist your hips. The power comes from your whole body, not your arm. Again.”
Twisting as instructed, Sin punched once more.
“Nice.” Eldritch gestured to the practising candidates. “The skills you possess put you way ahead of the others, and I’m not just talking about fighting. You have talents honed by necessity. It was the same in the army. The good soldiers survived the bad and the weak died. A sort of unnatural selection to misquote Darwin.”
“But I ain’t educated, like the others.”
With a grip like a clockwork clamp, Eldritch clasped Sin’s shoulders and leaned closer. “I know the truth of who you are.” He fixed Sin with a manic stare, then a smile spread onto his face. “You are a diamond in the dirt. Let COG shape you and polish you and you will shine oh so very brightly.”
Sin had never thought of himself as a diamond. Most of his life people had treated him like he was horse crap. Maybe Nimrod had instructed Eldritch to give Sin a pep talk, worried that he might quit. And it had worked, sort of. Sin did feel better about himself, however that last bit, that had been strange. Nimrod had made Eldritch recruit him and he still didn’t know why. If he confronted Eldritch he’d have to confess to spying on Lilith and Noir in the Conserva-Observatory, when he was supposed to be in his room. That was a whole nest of wasps he didn’t want to kick. He could always ask Nimrod during detention, but that would be tipping his hand. If Nimrod had wanted him to know surely he would have told him already.
Eldritch let go of Sin and clapped his hands together. “That’s excellent work, boys. Now, can anyone here ride a bike?”
Stanley’s hand shot in the air. “Me, Staff.”
“Apologies, got my words mixed up. I meant to say would anyone here like a fight. Well done for volunteering, COG Nobbs, please step into the ring.”
Stanley shuffled onto the sand, a look of apprehension on his normally cheeky face.
A strange mekanika contraption trundled into the ring. It was like a punching bag on wheels, with a multitude of piston-powered, boxing-gloved arms. On the round padded target that represented the contraption’s head someone had painted a smiling face.
Eldritch tinkered with the dials on the rear of the device. “This is the Battler Boy. I’m putting it on the easiest setting today so you can get a feel for it.” Eldritch stepped away. “You need to get ten hits in two minutes to win.” A bell rang and a puff of steam escaped from the Battler Boy. It punched all six of its gloved hands together and rolled towards Stanley.
“Come on, Nobby, you can take it,” shouted Sin.
Stanley had an unusual style but one which suited his lanky body. He weaved about the ring then darted in with a couple of quick punches and skipped away before the battler shot back with a gloved piston.
“One minute gone,” called Eldritch.
Stanley sprang towards the Battler Boy and landed a punch to the mekanika’s head. The battler responded with a slow right and Stanley ducked left. A jet of steam spurted from the battler’s back and it unloaded a left jab. The glove thudded into Stanley’s cheek and he reeled backwards, shaking his head. The battler advanced, throwing a series of punches at its dazed opponent. Stanley caught another slug to the chin and his legs wobbled.
“All-in, Stanley, all-in,” yelled Sin. It was a street term used by the Fixer but Sin was sure the other crews used it too.
Stanley lowered his head, screamed, and charged. In a show of berserk rage, he hit the battler with a whirlwind of fists, knees, elbows and a rather impressive headbutt. The battler’s bell rang twice and, with a sad hiss, it deactivated, arms falling limply by its sides.
Outside the ring, the boys cheered, viewing their classmate with a new-found respect.
For good measure Stanley kicked the battler twice more then swaggered from the ring. Sin held out his fist, which Stanley bumped with his own. “That’s how she rides,” he said, the grin returning to his face.
Beuford lifted his chin. “Ya’ll don’t do bad for a scrawny guy.”
“Had to impress the ladies, din’ I.” Stanley winked.
Lilith strode over to the ring trailed by the girls and a second battler. “You will often be sent on missions in pairs so it is important to learn to work as a team.” She guided the battler into the ring. “COG Sin, you impressed me earlier. Let’s see if you can do it again.”
He’d impressed her, but fighting wasn’t about showing off or scoring points, it was about survival. Sin shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Zonda. Her fingers trembled as she grasped the collar. Sin placed his hand on hers. “Relax. No mekanika’s going to get the better of me. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Eldritch fiddled with the controls on the back of the second battler’s head. He signalled to Lilith. “I think we’ll make this one a little more challenging, so pick someone good.”
“Better than good, I’ll pick the best,” said Lilith. “COG Von Darque. Do not disappoint me.”
Velvet strutted into the ring and joined Sin. “Hope you’re better at fighting than you are at science.”
Sin rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “This I’m schooled for.”
A bell rang and Sin advanced on the nearest battler. He fended off a couple of nasty punches and began hammering the mekanika’s targets. Unlike Stanley, he kept in cl
ose, absorbing blows to the body and dodging anything aimed at his head. In a matter of moments, he landed a series of well-executed combinations and the battler deactivated. Sin sauntered towards Velvet who danced around her battler.
In an explosion of steam, the ironglass safety screens shot from the floor, trapping Sin and Velvet in the ring. Startled cries rang out from the candidates, several of whom had been knocked backwards to the ground. Sin glanced at Zonda, her face a mixture of shock and panic. He smiled and shrugged. It was no drama – he’d just pummel the other battler then wait for them to drop the screens.
Behind him, the dormant battler hissed back to life. Sin turned. The boxing gloves fell to the sand, discarded by the battler, and a series of long blades emerged from the hollow arms.
Sin retreated. This was grim. Previously, he’d blocked most of the mekanika’s punches and the few licks that got through were nothing he couldn’t handle. Sharpened steel changed everything. He couldn’t block the blades, and muscle offered little protection from razor-edged metal. Slow time, slow time, slow time, he thought but the battler surged towards him, blades flailing wildly. Sin dived sideways and pain sliced his shoulder. He rolled across the sand leaving a trail of red.
Outside the screens, Lilith screamed at Eldritch. “What have you done? You’ve put one into weapons mode?”
If there was a reply, Sin didn’t hear it. His focus narrowed on the battlers as they closed in on Velvet, shepherding her into a corner. He leaped onto the back of the blade-wielding mekanika and ripped away the leather and horsehair padding to reveal a confusion of pipes and gears beneath. Velvet pressed her back against the ironglass screens, the mekanika’s blades slashing within inches of her face. Hot metal scorched Sin’s hands but ignoring the pain he seized a handful of pipes and heaved. The muscles in his arms bulged taut then a giant cloud of steam erupted from the mekanika and Sin fell backwards onto the sand. Through the haze he saw Velvet deliver a combination of well-aimed blows. The gloved battler deactivated and the ironglass screens sunk back into the ground.