The Flux Engine

by Dan Willis

  “You shouldn’t be doing that,” Sylvia’s voice chastened him.

  “You can see me?” John asked, wondering why Hickok would permit one of Sylvia’s glass eyes in his personal space.

  “Of course not,” she said, sounding somewhat offended. “I can feel your steps through the deck. Now get back in bed before you hurt yourself.”

  “How long was I in bed?”

  Before Sylvia could answer, the door swung open, revealing the round face and pug nose of Doc Terminus.

  “Obviously not long enough,” he said, advancing into the room with his mute wife close behind. He pushed John with one hand and John staggered back as if hit by a blow.

  “You’re as weak as a kitten, boy,” he said. “You’re not ready to be up.”

  John opened his mouth to tell Terminus what he thought of his orders, but Meg put her hand on his arm, fixing him with her brilliant green eyes. She guided him gently back to bed. Under the intensity of Meg’s gaze, he went without further complaint.

  “How long was I out?” he asked again, once Meg had propped him up in a sitting position and covered his legs with the blanket.

  “Three weeks,” Terminus said. He carried a doctor’s valise and he fished around in it for a moment before emerging with a small brown bottle.

  “Drink this,” he said, pushing it into John’s hands. John pushed it away.

  “Hickok said his ribs would heal in a couple of days,” he said. “How come mine still hurt? Why isn’t the Paragon Elixir working on me?”

  “It is working, boy,” Terminus said. “If it wasn’t you’d be getting measured for a pine overcoat right about now. You can’t compare yourself to Hickok, he’s been taking the elixir for years. Not to mention the fact that it affects people different from one another. Just give it some time.”

  John wasn’t terribly reassured. Hickok was practically a one-man army. Morgan and Sira had tossed him around like a rag doll.

  “Give it some time, boy,” Terminus reiterated with a smile. “Now drink your medicine.”

  John turned it over and read the paper label.

  Doc Terminus’ patented Heal Quik Formula. Bolsters the immune system while promoting accelerated cell growth. Do not use while Pregnant.

  “Is this going to put me out?” he asked, as he tugged the cork out of the bottle’s neck.

  “No, it’s just restorative. I’d drink it fast,” he went on. “It’s nasty as hell.”

  John downed the bottle in one swig. Doc was right, it tasted like castor oil that had been filtered through a dirty sock.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked while trying to scrape the taste of Heal Quik off his tongue. It came out, “Nare ith eveyone?”

  “They went aground,” Crankshaft said.

  John looked past Terminus to the still-open door where the tall black man stood leaning on the jamb.

  “Good to see you up,” Crankshaft added.

  “He ain’t up,” Terminus said with more than a hint of belligerence.

  “We’re over Castle Rock,” Crankshaft said, moving into the room. “That airship did some damage before you managed to take it out. Hickok and Robi went down to check out that boarding house where you stopped before,” he said. A strange smile crept onto his face. “What’s it called?” He directed the question at Sylvia.

  “Jane’s Place,” Sylvia said in a frosty voice.

  “That’s it,” Crankshaft said. “I must be getting old,” he said with a wink at John. “The memory’s going.”

  Sylvia made an indignant sound.

  “They should be back any time,” Crankshaft said.

  From somewhere beyond the door there was a decidedly female squeal and the sounds of running feet.

  “They’re back,” Sylvia reported, her voice sounding brighter.

  A moment later, Robi came tearing through the open door, her face split into a wide grin. She ran straight at him, obviously intending to throw her arms around him in an embrace. Just before she got there, though, she seemed to think better of it, and shook his hand awkwardly. She wore a short-sleeved shirt, revealing a neat bandage wrapped around her right forearm.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, wiggling her fingers so John could see that they all worked.

  “Doc fixed me up,” she said.

  “What happened?” he asked her. “I remember falling.”

  “Robi got you safely to the ground,” Crankshaft said.

  “Then I picked you up before we went after Hickok,” Sylvia said, pride sounding in her voice.

  There was a lurch and the Rose began to lift upward. A moment later, Hickok came in.

  “Things are stable on the ground,” he said. “Jane’s got a bunch of wounded at her place and the mayor’s got crews clearing away the damage.”

  “How wonderful,” Sylvia said, her tone flat.

  “Good to see you up, boy,” Hickok said, his mustache turning up with his smile. “Maybe I can have my bed back.”

  “He ain’t UP,” Terminus insisted.

  “You can’t baby him, Doc,” Hickok said. “He’ll never heal that way.”

  Terminus’ face turned red and he got right up in Hickok’s face.

  “Who’s the doctor here?” he demanded. “You or me? Don’t be tellin’ me—

  “It’s okay doc,” John cut in. “I really do feel better.”

  “Maybe he could get up for just a bit?” Robi said.

  “We’re almost to the Prophet’s place,” Hickok said. “He’s expecting all of us, so John’s got to move rooms anyway.”

  Terminus swelled up like a toad, but before the obvious tirade could burst forth, Meg put her hand on his arm.

  “All right,” he said, deflating visibly. “But I don’t want him on his feet any longer than it takes to walk from here to there.”

  The airship bumped against the prophet’s sky dock at that moment and Robi and Meg withdrew so John could dress. Between his leg and his ribs, he had to have help from Hickok and Doc Terminus, but eventually he was ready.

  “Now don’t overdo it,” Terminus said as John limped out onto the sunlit deck. Over the rail below him, he could see Castle Rock. Part of the city had been crushed as if by a giant hand. The effect of the geoform weapon had flattened buildings and disintegrated stone. A few buildings still stood in the affected area, rising up like lonely sentinels over the mangled ground. Even now, though, teams of men and Tommys moved among the rubble, clearing away debris.

  Turning away, John limped painfully across the gangplank to the stone floor of the Prophet’s balcony. He made it as far as the parlor before collapsing on a couch.

  “Not bad,” Terminus said, checking John’s bandages for signs of bleeding. “Not bad at all for your first stroll out of a sickbed.”

  John just sat there, feeling his leg throb with every heartbeat, while the others took their gear to their rooms. Finally, once everyone had returned to the parlor, the Prophet himself appeared.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, dropping down in a leather chair. “I trust Alistair has settled you all?”

  When no one spoke, he went on.

  “John, it’s good to see you up. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d love to hear just how you knocked that monster out of the sky.” As he spoke, he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. John could clearly see the remains of the giant airship through the window, its supports thrusting up from the valley floor like enormous bones.

  So John told the story of finding the crystal chamber, and of fighting and killing Sira. The Prophet and Hickok exchanged meaningful glances when he told how he killed her, but they didn’t interrupt. He told of Robi’s miraculous extraction of his mother’s crystal from the insanely complicated flux engine. Robi helped with the details, and it was obvious everyone had already heard this story from her.

  He told them about Derek Morgan. How he had wanted John to work for him and how John had been forced to smash his crystal to stop the destruction of Ca
stle Rock.

  When he finished, there was silence until Hickok spoke at last.

  “You did the right thing, John,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. John winced as his ribs protested. “I knew I chose right when I took you for a deputy.”

  “Sylvia said she picked up Robi and me,” John said. “How did she find us?”

  “We knew the airship was headed for Castle Rock,” Crankshaft said. “It was easy to get here ahead of it. We just stood off till it started listing, then we came in. Sylvia caught sight of you when Robi jumped and we raced in to get you.”

  “It took ’em longer to find me,” Hickok said. “But eventually Sylvia came up under my escape boat. You were beat up pretty bad, so we made straight for the Homestead.”

  “Lucky thing too,” Doc said. “Any longer and you’d have had permanent damage.”

  John shivered, remembering Meg’s missing tongue.

  “It was touch and go for a while, but fortunately for you, I’m a Builder-blessed genius.” Doc stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, his chest puffed out.

  Meg elbowed her husband in the ribs.

  “I—ah, had lots of good help, too.” Doc ducked his head sheepishly, deflating.

  “Thank you both,” John said, grateful.

  “An impressive story,” the Prophet said. He’d been quiet during the whole exchange, listening intently. “I must say, I’m not surprised,” he said to John. “You’ve always been a brave, resourceful young man. Now you’re a legitimate hero. All of Castle Rock will want to meet you.” He glanced over at his butler, Alistair, and said, “There should be a day of celebration.”

  “With a parade, sir?” Alistair said, a strange, almost hopeful note in his voice.

  “Of course,” the Prophet nodded with a benevolent smile.

  “But what am I going do after that?” John asked. “I doubt I can go back to being a Thurger, even if Doctor Shultz would take me on again.”

  “You’ll continue as Bill’s deputy, of course,” the Prophet said, as if the entire question were self-evident. “Once he thinks you’re ready, you’ll be made a full Enforcer.”

  John just stared at the man. How was that better?

  “You didn’t think it was all over,” the Prophet said, a twinkle in his eye. “Did you, John?”

  John pointed out the large windows to where the shattered remains of the giant airship glinted in the afternoon sun.

  “The volcano device is destroyed,” he said. “My mother’s crystal is gone and Morgan is dead.”

  “True,” the Prophet said. “But there’s the matter of Professor Solomon.”

  John’s head snapped up at this, and he stared at the Prophet intently.

  “Oh, yes,” the wiry man said. “There’s been another outbreak of ghouls, this time at a leaker colony in New Virginia. According to my reports the outbreak coincided with the theft of some alchemical equipment and an airship from a navy yard.”

  John’s stomach churned. Solomon had turned sick people into monsters to cover a simple burglary. It was disgusting.

  “We’re going to have to do something about that one,” Hickok growled, sounding equally disgusted.

  “Indeed,” the Prophet said. “There’s also the small matter of increasing Scrapstalker attacks.”

  “They seem to be getting bolder, hitting armed caravans and even the occasional train,” Hickok said. “It’s as if someone or something is stirring them up.”

  The Prophet sat easily, with his legs crossed, but he bored into John with his dark, intense eyes, letting the silence stretch out between them.

  “We need heroes, John,” he said at last, “real ones. Men and women with the courage to do what’s right. We need you, John.”

  John glanced at Robi, but she was looking away, at the wreckage of the airship.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said noncommittally.

  “I think this young man has had enough excitement for one day,” Terminus said. “I want him to get some rest before dinner.”

  John’s stomach rumbled at that. He had no idea what they’d been feeding him while he was unconscious, or how. Or even, for that matter, if.

  Hickok and Terminus helped John to his room and promised to bring him a plate just as soon as the food was ready. He lay there for a whole minute before getting restless. There was something he’d left out of his story. He’d kissed Robi. More than that, he was pretty sure, through the haze of his pain-fogged memory, that she had kissed him back.

  Was that why she wouldn’t meet his gaze earlier?

  He looked at the door to his room. Hickok and Terminus wouldn’t be back for a while. This was the best chance he would get to have a private conversation.

  Grunting against the ache in his leg, he rose and limped to the door, opening it and looking out.

  The World’s Greatest Thief had been given a room at the far end of the suite, near the kitchens.

  The door was open a crack, and John went in without knocking. Robi’s bags were gone and she crouched on the sill of the open window, a thin length of rope in her gloved hand.

  John just stared at her for a long moment.

  “You’re leaving?” he said at last.

  She looked away, then slowly met his eyes.

  “I have to,” she said at last.

  “No,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t.”

  Her gaze hardened and she took a step toward him.

  “Yes I do,” she said. “You’re a real enforcer now. You can’t go around with the likes of me.” Her eyes grew bright as she spoke. “I’m a thief, John. It’s what I am. If I stay, sooner or later you’ll have to choose between me and doing your job. I won’t tarnish you like that. You mean too much to me for that.”

  “I do?”

  She turned her face away.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I never would have stopped Morgan if it wasn’t for you, Robi. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be rotting in Sheriff Batts’ jail.”

  “Or a dark stain on the desert floor.”

  “Exactly. I can’t do this job without you. There are …” he paused, searching for words, “legal … ways to be a thief. To be the World’s Greatest Thief.”

  “Are there?” she wondered. “I don’t know.”

  Robi turned back to him, her hand seeking out his. She held it for a moment, then pressed something hard and round into it. John opened his hand to find a small brass compass with a crystal needle that was not pointing north.

  “It’s the sympathetic compass,” she said. “I don’t know if Solomon has switched airships, but this should lead you to his old one. It’s a place to start.”

  “See what I mean—” he began, but she pressed a finger against his lips. As he watched, she pulled a small cord from her pocket. At the bottom dangled a piece of red crystal in a wire cage. The whole thing was about the size of the tip of John’s thumb.

  “This was stuck to your shirt,” she said. “I think it’s a bit of your mom’s crystal. Maybe there’s still a chance you can find her.” She passed the loop over John’s head and stepped back as it came to rest over his heart. As it touched him, warbling echoes of its former music filled his mind and his chest erupted in gooseflesh.

  He didn’t know what to say. He’d come to terms with the idea that his mother was forever lost to him. Now Robi had given him what he dared not claim for himself.

  Hope.

  “I—” he began, but she threw herself forward and kissed him. Her lips were hot and sweet and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight until she finally pulled away. As he released her, she leapt back to the window, vaulting onto the sill with the grace of a cat.

  “Will you come back?” he asked as she leaned out, her weight resting on the thin rope locked into her rappelling belt.

  She winked at him and dropped out of sight.

  He followed to the window and was just in time to see her detach from the rope and look up. With
out a word, John untied the rope and let it drop back to her.

  Always leave them wondering how you got out.

  Robi stuffed the rope in her bag, blew him a kiss, and disappeared into the crowd on the pilgrim’s walk. John stared after her for a long time before turning away and shutting the window. He had wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but somehow he knew that would only drive her away farther and faster. Whatever she had to discover about the world or herself, she would have to do it alone—for now.

  John opened his hand and looked at the little brass compass.

  In the meantime, there was something he could do to make the world a better place. He tucked the compass into his waistcoat pocket and went to tell Hickok they had a place to start.

  About the Author

  Born in Washington DC and raised just east of there in Maryland, Dan grew up among the most practiced of storytellers, politicians. Despite that, he decided to become a writer rather than a professional liar or grifter. He moved west to Utah to attend college and studied writing. Like everyone who studies writing, he had to find some way to make money and worked as a mechanic, a customer service rep, a programmer, a web designer, a software tester, and, occasionally, a copy writer.

  Eventually, Dan’s writing caught the eye of Wizards of the Coast, and he began writing for their DragonLance: The New Adventures series. Most recently, Dan worked with NYT Bestselling author, Tracy Hickman on a new alternate history Civil War series, Dragons of the Confederacy.