by Richard Dee
“Are you sure?” Fairview sounded reluctant.
“I’ve been pondering it,” Langdon replied, “and with a heavy heart, I must say so. Our problem is this; there are only these troops to protect the north shore and these buildings. We cannot let them fall. Oswald is not here, even if he arrives soon, we cannot guarantee to control any automata with certainty. It’s a foul choice but one I have to make.”
“Very well,” said Fairview. With Jackson’s help he readied the Wasperton-Byler generator. When they discharged it, the only sign of its effectiveness was a convulsion from the officer’s corpse, making him seem alive for a moment.
“Spotters,” called Fairview, “is there any change on the mob?”
“Nothing,” the men aloft replied. “They have surmounted the second barricade and are now one street back from the bridge.”
“The range is still insufficient,” muttered Langdon. “At least there were none on this side.”
“They need to get closer,” said Fairview.
“The third barricade is breached,” called out the soldiers and everyone ran to the river’s edge for a sight of what was approaching. Now that the mob had broken the last resistance, they moved quickly towards the line of troops guarding the bridge approach. Barely two hundred yards away, the sounds of battle could now be clearly heard.
There was shouting and screaming, and the sound of volleys from gas-guns, which slowed the advance. Not because of hesitation, the mob were beyond that, senses numbed by the control they were under. They were slowed by the narrowness of the road and the pile of bodies that the living had to climb, which grew ever higher.
“These are more aggressive than the last,” said Jackson.
“It may be a function of the filament,” Fairview suggested. “Perhaps the Professor has learned to control emotion as well as action. I’m sure he is not standing still in its development; witness the different state of his private guard, they were invulnerable.”
“Unless of course they were loyal to him and not under control by the filament,” Langdon said. “He may have just been trying to mislead us. See how that officer was not protected, the signal from the discharge was still enough to destroy his filament.”
Ahead of them, the rest of the soldiers formed up to protect the bridge.
“I have an idea,” said Jackson. “Now that we have the Sensaurum, Oswald is not needed.”
“How so?” asked Langdon. “Quickly now, lad, what are your thoughts?”
“We can start it back up and use it in the same way as Rodney does. If we speak into it, then surely we can control the mob, in the same way as whoever is on the south side. We can say stop and they will.”
“But then the man on the south need only say ‘start’, and we are back where we were.”
“Yes, but we have soldiers here. If we can get some of them to the south and remove the man controlling the mob, ours would be the only voice. It’s not a perfect solution but it will stop them until Oswald arrives with a better one.”
“You are right,” Langdon said. “It’s a desperate plan but these are desperate times. There is only one way to find out. Reattach the wires and make the Sensaurum ready. Fairview, will you take the soldiers south and seek out the controller?”
“Of course,” replied Fairview, without hesitation. “I think it a good plan.”
“Things are getting worse on the south side,” shouted one of the soldiers. “The soldiers have exhausted their ammunition; they are falling back onto the bridge itself.”
The three moved to get a better view. “You will have to go now,” said Langdon as they watched the mob overwhelm the remnants. The remaining officer tried to rally his men, but they were engulfed by the throng and ripped limb from limb. Then they stopped, still as statues.
“What are they waiting for?”
Fairview went to the sergeant major. “Pick six men to come with me,” he said. The man went off shouting for volunteers, six returned and fell in.
Fairview gave his orders. “We will cross on the next bridge downstream, the Maloney, and get behind the mob. If we are challenged, you must act as if controlled; you have seen the gait of these men. Then we will search for the one wearing that device and remove him permanently. As before, we must not let the lever at the side be pulled.” They set off together at a trot.
“We have done all we can,” said Langdon. “Now it’s either kill everyone or hope that we can somehow remove them from their trance, before they overwhelm us all.”
The sound of a mobile approaching at speed, horn blaring, made them turn. Whilst their attention had been fixed on the south shore, the edge of the square and the north bank of the river had been filled by a mass of onlookers, spilling out from the streets that converged on the square. The Watch, a solid black line of men, arms linked, had been effective at holding them clear of their position. They were inquisitive but not threatening. They parted for the mobile which mounted the pavement and halted close to them.
Oswald appeared from it, together with Jessamine. He was clutching the familiar shape of a Sensaurum. “Wait,” Oswald called. “We have travelled through streets lined with corpses; you have discharged the generator, have you not?”
“Yes, we have,” said Langdon. “But only one man was affected.” He pointed to the soldier’s body.
“That is because the rest were not yet here,” replied the scientist. “They were approaching and had not yet coalesced into a mob. Those on the south were too distant, more’s the pity. We do not need to kill them all; I have perfected a lower powered device which should block any signals. It’s based on the Sensaurum that you recovered. It uses subtlety, where the generator was brute force.”
“They have control on the south, yet they have stopped,” Langdon said. “It’s difficult to see why, the way across the bridge is clear. Fairview has taken some troops to try and capture the Sensaurum that directs them; perhaps he will stop the advance.”
“I suspect that they await the arrival of Rodney,” Langdon said, “to witness his triumph, when the mob reach the buildings of state and demand the spoils of his plan. Perhaps they wait for him. Or for reinforcements from the north.”
“What of Rodney? We will need to bring him to justice.”
“Again, that is secondary to stopping the mob.”
The four stood at the north edge of the bridge, armed only with the Wasperton-Byler generator, Oswald’s device and the captured Sensaurum. In front of them were the remaining soldiers. At their backs there was the empty square, the crowd held by the Watch. They seemed a puny band, alone and exposed in the face of the throng.
Suddenly there was a growl from the mob; the first of them put their feet on Stafford Bridge. As one they started to march over its roadway. They came perhaps a quarter of the way, their feet stamping out as one. Then they halted again.
There was a volley of shots away in the distance. The mob never faltered.
“Was that from our band of soldiers? Have they succeeded?”
“Who knows? All we can do is stop the mob. It’s time to ready the machines.”
The leaders of the mob brandished weapons, pitchforks, rusted swords and a few gas-guns among them, they were clearly a disparate band, only held together by the power of the Sensaurum.
Jackson was grateful that they had disabled the Sensaurum that would have roused the north shore to attack. Now they were dead; the remainder just a crowd of sightseers. The question was, which box should they use first to stop their advance? They could operate the generator and kill everyone, or try the other box, but what was the word?
Everyone assumed it needed a second command to stop but what if it was as simple as shouting stop. Could it be? It would buy them time. The leaders of the mob were less than fifty yards from him, funnelled into the bridge, their feet stamping in unison as they crossed the river.
“We have Oswald’s blocking generator, we must use it now,” said Langdon.
Oswald turned a switch on the
machine, spun the handle. He gazed at a small dial.
“Well?” asked Langdon. “It’s not working,” said Oswald, cranking. “The needle should flicker, I finished it in haste, it cannot be as complete as I thought.”
He stopped cranking and opened the front of the box.
“We have no time for this,” said Langdon. “Jackson, ready the Wasperton-Byler generator.”
“And kill every one of them?” asked Jessamine.
“It’s them or us!” said Jackson. “Pardon me if I vote for the greater good.”
“Yes,” she replied, “but we have a Sensaurum as well as Oswald’s new invention.”
“Which is not working,” Langdon pointed out.
Oswald had his hands inside the box. “I’m going as fast as I can, try the Sensaurum, it has the larger range.”
“We discussed this before, Oswald,” said Jackson. “If Fairview has not neutralised the device on the south, then our orders will immediately be countermanded.”
“It seems that one will merely cancel the other,” added Langdon.
“But surely, and no disrespect, once the order has been passed, then blocking the signal will do nothing.”
“Except prevent its repetition.”
There was a growl from the bridge and a sound of tramping feet, the mob had started moving again.
“No, you miss the point,” said Oswald. “The signal would still have to be countermanded, which you cannot do while I am blocking the signal.”
The predicament dawned on all present. Oswald continued. “That, I’m afraid is a logical conclusion. However, it is not presently working. First, we need to stop the mob before they take over. Then with the luxury of safety from annihilation, we can experiment.”
“This talking in circles is getting us nowhere,” said Jessamine desperately. “We need to act.” She grasped the Sensaurum, flicked the switch. “Stop!” she shouted. The crowd on the bridge faltered, those at the front stopped but the ones at the rear had been out of range of its signal and were pushing them forward.
Then, they all started moving again.
Chapter 36
Under the rhythmic tramp of so many feet, the bridge started to shake; stones fell from its parapets and balustrades. Langdon shook his head. “They have been reactivated; Fairview must have failed in his quest. We need the generator.”
“Is it possible that the bridge will collapse before they get here?” said Oswald.
“How? It’s solid stone, it has stood for years.”
“The repetition has set up a sympathetic vibration, they need to break step, or reverse their motion, go backwards to safety.”
A light glowed in Jackson’s head; that was it. “Alyious hadn’t finished writing when he died,” he shouted excitedly. “It’s not rev. Alyious was trying to write reverse, the word to release them is lexis reversed, said backwards.”
Huge stones were now falling in the river as its arches split, the footway where it joined the land on the north side cracked, it could not have cracked on the south or so many people would not now be surging across it. A large section of the bridge and many people suddenly fell into the water. There was an enormous noise and sheets of spray, rainbow shot in the sunlight, covered everyone. The unfortunates in the water made no sound as the current dragged them downstream.
The remainder of the marching mob ignored the destruction and came on, more fell as they walked blindly over the edge, yet they did not care, such was the strength of the spell Rodney had them under. Everything shook with the noise. Buildings rattled, glass fell, adding to the chaos. Stones were thrown by the advancing mob, chunks torn from the buildings and the road; railings hurled like spears. They fell among the group. Langdon was hit on the head by a rock and collapsed to the ground. Panic started to spread. The civilians who had come to gawp started to run away.
Jessamine knelt to tend to Langdon
Jackson grabbed the Sensaurum. “Stop! Sixel!” he shouted into the trumpet. The wave of humanity broke, just as more toppled into the rushing waters. Released from the spell of the Sensaurum, they milled on the broken bridge, as if unsure of where they were. They then turned and ran back to the south, to safety. They were no longer a coherent phalanx, now just a collection of frightened individuals.
“I have it working!” cried Oswald.
“Then start it now, before they are controlled again,” shouted Jackson.
They strained to detect anything as Oswald threw the switch and cranked. Looking at the throng still left on the bridge, there was no visible sign of order among them. “It must be working, they are still aimless and uncontrolled.”
“It seems that we have solved the problem. Now we need to find Rodney and the Professor.” A Watch officer approached them, he looked dazed by events.
“What in the name of everything was all that about?” he asked.
“We have no time to tell you, the leader of this insurrection is still at large.” Oswald had taken command. “We have an injured man as well. We must leave you to disperse the crowds.”
The soldiers who had been stood ready by the ruins of the bridge now joined them. “What can we do?” asked one.
“Go south and try to find your comrades,” Jackson said, “and the man who led them, tell him we have gone to apprehend the Master. But first, help us get our equipment and Sir Mortimer into the mobile.”
“Where are we going, Jackson?” asked Oswald. “Do you have an inkling where this Master might be?”
“We assume that he will be waiting somewhere for news of victory. I think the factory is the logical place to commence our search.”
“Do you not consider it more likely that he will be much closer?” asked the scientist.
“He is safe in the factory, protected by his friends, safe from the Watch, he thinks he is safe from us. I imagine that he will come out only when his triumph is reported.”
Oswald thought for a moment and looked again at Langdon’s unconscious form in the mobile.
“To the factory then,” he said. Carrying the boxes, they jumped into the mobile, Jessamine driving.
“Fairview will have to make his own way,” she said, “assuming he has returned from the south side.”
“It will take more than a few automata to dispose of our Mr Fairview,” Oswald said dryly. “The tribes of the Western Isles tried hard enough and failed every time.”
As they left the square, they saw many corpses, the reminder of the effects of a Wasperton-Byler discharge on the neck filament. Jackson realised just how lucky they had been.
They arrived at the factory, the gates were wide open. Inside it was deserted, the machines and even the shaft in the ceiling was idle. Jessamine remained with Langdon. He was breathing rhythmically; a thin trickle of blood ran down his temple. As Jackson and Oswald raced up the stairs to the offices and laboratories, the temperature increased, they found that thick smoke was coming towards them. Dim red shapes danced in the smoke, the building was well alight.
“It’s obvious he’s not here,” said Jackson. “All is being destroyed, all the Professor’s work, everything.”
Oswald let out a despairing cry, “I need to know his secrets, surely Rodney would not be so foolish, he must have spirited it all away somewhere.” He tried to continue into the smoke, Jackson grabbed him and pulled him back. “Oswald you will perish, the materials will be far away, you can be sure of that.”
“But his estate in Hammerham was also deserted.”
“Then he has a plan, you can be sure of that.”
“Where would he be? Where can we search?”
“I don’t know,” replied Jackson, “but we cannot remain here.”
They could feel the heat from the blaze as they hurried down the stairs, chased by smoke and flame, and into the open air. Both were out of breath and coughing as they approached the mobile. Jessamine was stood outside. “Are you alright?” she asked. “I can see the flames in every window on the upper floors.”
�
�We are,” answered Jackson, between coughs. “Rodney cannot be here.”
“Langdon is stirring,” she said. “I don’t think he needs to see a doctor, I have dressed the wound on his head. He is awake but confused.”
She opened the mobiles door, Langdon was laying on the seat, with a patch of Oswald’s healing parchment on his head. His eyes were open. “Where are we?” he whispered.
“We are seeking Rodney; we have come to the factory.” Jackson explained, “The offices are well alight, nothing is here.”
Langdon struggled upright. “No,” he said, shaking his head and wincing with the pain. “You are mistaken. He will not be here. He will be at the place he believes his triumphant coronation will occur. We must go to the House of Speakers.”
Jessamine drove with reckless abandon, back to the place they had so recently left. They tore down the road, scattering pedestrians and weaving between vehicles, all the time looking for signs of automata. Oswald had the blocking generator turned onto maximum power, the flickering needle told the group that it was working, masking the commands of any nearby Sensaurum. The people they saw were dazed by events, aware that great things were occurring but unable to react. The city was covered in dust, blown from the collapsed bridge and wrecked buildings on the south side by a freshening breeze. Save for the corpses and a few Watchmen, the streets were deserted, all the unaffected must have been ordered to return to their homes.
Alighting outside the House, they found a squad of Watchmen. “Ensure that nobody leaves,” said Langdon. “Two of you, follow us.” Oswald carried the blocking device and Jackson a Sensaurum.
Langdon seemed to have recovered his senses and had resumed command. They ran into the main chamber. Rodney was sat on the First Speaker’s chair, without his mask, flanked by a throng of grey-clad people. When he saw them, he stood and bowed. “Welcome, all,” he said. “Are you here to witness my coronation?”