by Richard Dee
“It’s over, Rodney,” said Langdon. “Your mob are vanquished, released from your control, those that are still alive. You have a lot to answer for, be assured that you will do so in due course. The building is surrounded, there is nowhere to run.”
“So, my initial plans have failed,” said Rodney, “and now you’re here to gloat. Ha! You will never stop me; this is merely a temporary setback. If there is to be no triumph this time, we are leaving.” The greys formed a protective circle around him. Winstanley was standing separate.
“Grab that man!” shouted Langdon, the Watchmen held him.
“Stand down! Sixel!” cried Jackson into the Sensaurum but the word was ineffectual on the grey-coated group that surrounded Rodney. He laughed as his group edged towards a side door.
Oswald looked at the dial on the blocking device. “The Sensaurum will not work while the blocking field is being produced,” he said.
“Fools,” Rodney said. “Do you think I would use the same word or methods for my elite guards? As soon as you stole a Sensaurum, I had the Professor change the way the system works for my closest protectors. Once I have regrouped, I will return, you may be sure of that. You will never stop me.”
“We will get the information from Aldithley then,” said Oswald.
Rodney laughed again. “You will not find him. All evidence is destroyed; you’ll find the Prosthesium ablaze. The Professor awaits me; you will never reach us where we are going.”
“I will get the knowledge from you now,” said Jackson. “To avenge my parents.”
Rodney looked more closely at him. “Ah yes, Jackson. We meet again. I might have guessed that you would be here. I will tell you it all. Your parents were the first casualties of my reign, they learned too much of my plans and were prepared to tell Clynes and others.”
“So you killed them?” said Langdon.
Rodney nodded, he had not been cowed by news of his defeat, far from it, he still radiated confidence. “Yes, I did, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was worth destroying a room full of people to stop their meddling. Look at what I have created; I have an army to do my bidding.”
“Your army has failed,” said Langdon. “Come quietly now and you will receive a fair trial. Tell us all your accomplices as well and we will be lenient.”
“Ha! Never,” he replied. “Look at the boy’s face, do you think he will let me live?”
Jackson was shocked by the admission, even though he had suspected. The brazen confidence of Rodney meant that he was sure of his escape. “Then I will avenge them now,” he said grabbing a gas-gun from one of the Watchmen. “I will kill you where you stand.”
“Jackson, put that pistol down,” said Langdon, but Jackson never flinched.
“You see the benefits of my method?” said Rodney. “Unquestioning obedience; isn’t that better than your hot-headed band of children.”
“Jackson, I order you to drop the pistol.”
Before any more could be said, Winstanley chose that moment to break free from the Watchman’s grip. He ran towards Rodney’s group, between Jackson and his target, just as he fired the gas-gun. The projectile hit him full in the back, sending him tumbling forwards in a burst of red. He fell to the floor and rolled over, twitching and jerking, his boots rattling on the floorboards.
Jackson heard Jessamine scream. Langdon shouted, “Jackson, stand down this instant.” He turned his head away. When he looked back, Rodney and his guards had vanished. And so had Jessamine.
“Where has she gone?” he shouted. They all rushed to the door. It was locked. “They must have her,” said Langdon. The Watchmen pounded on the door and forced it open. Reaching the street, they saw a large mobile in the distance, heading towards the Maloney Bridge. “Follow them!” shouted Jackson, desperately. They all got back into Langdon’s mobile and gave chase.
“We will discuss your behaviour at length,” said Langdon, ominously. “But this is not the time.”
“We cannot lose sight of them,” said the anguished Jackson. “But we must be careful in our attack; he has Jessamine.”
Langdon drove and neither Jackson nor Oswald was brave enough to dissuade him. In any event Rodney’s mobile did not race away, rather it led them a dance, as if enticing them onwards. Once they lost sight of the mobile for a moment, then it popped back into view. The pursuit led them through the city and into winding country lanes. As soon as the last buildings were behind them, Rodney’s mobile picked up speed and disappeared from view. Langdon increased his speed, hedges and trees flashed past them but still it did not reappear.
“We have lost them,” said Oswald.
“Not so,” replied Langdon. “This road only leads to one place.”
“Is it Rodney’s lair?” asked Jackson. Langdon shook his head.
“Again, no. We are going to a private flying field. Rodney must be escaping by Aero.”
As they approached the gate, through the hedge they could see several Aeros and a large flag, indicating the wind direction.
When they pulled into the field, they saw the abandoned mobile and, away to one side, a dark brown Aero, nothing like the one Jackson remembered. It had a military air about it, the engines were set into the wings, not underneath; it looked lethal and menacing. It was already a hundred yards away, moving further from them, then it swung around to face into the wind. It would take off and it seemed like there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Langdon stopped the mobile, Jackson got out, behind him he heard Oswald, “I’m setting up the Wasperton-Byler generator,” he said.
“How will that help us?” asked Jackson.
“That is another function of the field. If I amplify it, the field will be enough to disrupt the controls of the Aero. If an automata is piloting the craft, it will kill him too.”
As Jackson watched Oswald work, the mobile raced past them. Langdon was trying to block the Aero’s path. Jackson heard its two mighty engines roar and it started to move. It would pass about thirty yards in front of them as it accelerated. Langdon would be too late.
“We must use the generator before it takes off,” Jackson said. “Jessamine will surely die if the Aero crashes.”
“I’m working as fast as I can,” said Oswald.
“If she is not dead already,” added Jackson, mournfully. “A life as Rodney’s prisoner will be no better than a swift end.”
The Aero left the ground, almost scraping the mobile’s roof as it passed. “It is ready,” said Oswald. “I’ve amplified the signal as much as possible.”
Jackson was overcome with sadness but saw the logic in what he had to do, lose one to gain many.
“I’m sorry,” said Oswald, understanding what had to happen.
“I will be the one to do it,” said Jackson.
Oswald nodded briefly.
Jackson cranked the handle with a heavy heart, ‘goodbye, my love, forgive me’, repeating in his mind.
The Aero was no more than fifty feet from the ground as it passed the pair. It carried on climbing for a few seconds, then the engine’s note changed. Suddenly it tipped forwards and fell to the ground, sliding along the grass with a terrible sound, as the metal of its skin was crushed and bent by the impact. Jackson started running towards it, followed by Oswald.
There was a moment’s silence, birds could be heard singing and Jackson’s hopes rose. Then there was a whoosh as the gas tanks exploded. Flames shot high into the air and forced Jackson back, then he was held by Oswald. “Let me go, I have to try and save her.” He thrashed but was unable to break the man’s grip.
“Jessamine!” he screamed.
Chapter 37
A small voice called from the abandoned mobile. “Is that you, Jackson? I am over here, untie me.”
Less than a minute later, they were reunited and oblivious to Oswald’s presence, in a tight embrace. “What happened?”
“The greys grabbed me while you were shooting Winstanley, threw me in their mobile. I was tied and s
urrounded by more of those grey automata. They were so frightening, looking straight ahead and saying nothing. I heard Rodney and the Professor talking. He said that he had enjoyed me so much, he wanted to implant a filament in my neck, to make me his slave. I would do his bidding in all respects whenever he desired me.” She shuddered. “It was a horrible thought. Then when we arrived at the Aero, they lifted me and tried to take me from the mobile. I saw my chance. I thrashed about, distracting them and making it impossible for them to carry me. They must have heard you approaching and left me, getting all the automata into the Aero to make their escape. The rest you know.”
Langdon arrived at that moment. He took in the scene, shook Jackson’s hand. “Well done, Rodney is defeated. And the best news, that Jessamine was not in the Aero.”
He looked at the burning wreck. “There will be little left for Oswald to examine,” he said. “Tell me, Jackson, did you know that Jessamine was safe before you set off the generator?”
“I did not,” replied Jackson, surprised at how calm he felt. “While I did it, I remembered the words of Alyious. He warned me that I might have to choose between doing what was right and the life of someone that I cared for. I never thought that I would actually have to make the choice. I’m ashamed to say that he was correct, although it hurt me to do it.”
“He was right, it was a lesson he learned the hard way too,” echoed Langdon, joining in the sentimentality of the moment, while still managing to be the person in charge. “I was sure that I was right about your character from the start, that you would be an asset.”
“You knew about the deaths of my parents at Rodney’s hand, did you not?” Jackson felt justified to ask. “And you wanted me to stop him. You used me.”
“Of course I did,” replied Langdon, a puzzled look on his face. “A good leader uses all at his disposal, ’tis a dirty job keeping Norlandia safe. You disappointed me by disobeying my orders and shooting Winstanley. However, you have redeemed yourself. Despite your personal involvement with Jessamine, you were prepared to do what benefited the greater good. Hopefully, you have learned that emotional attachment is not an option; if you wish to be an agent of mine.”
He looked at them both. “Don’t play the innocents, I know of your relationship,” he said and he smiled, the first time Jackson could remember seeing one on his face for some time. “Perhaps, in the case of my best agents, I might be willing to make an exception.”
Jessamine and Jackson looked at each other, Langdon’s world might just be about to change.
Oswald said nothing. To him the conversation was spoken in an alien tongue. He was far too excited, thinking of all the things he could do with statics.
~~~~
Ten days later, Jackson and Jessamine held hands and watched as the land dropped away in the ship’s wake. Gulls swooped around them. They were on leave from their duties, a month’s break, all paid for by Sir Mortimer, in recognition of services rendered. They had chosen to take a sea voyage, on-board one of the new-fangled ships that were designed to carry passengers on voyages of discovery. Safe from calls to save the world.
“When you said that you chose right over me…” said Jessamine and Jackson tensed. This was the conversation he had been dreading. Was she annoyed that he had chosen her fate, had actually turned the crank on the generator when he knew it would be her death? Could she even consider that he thought so little of her? To his relief, instead of moving away, she spun and looked him in the eye. He saw a tear form. “…I understood exactly,” she said, “and I’m proud that you chose correctly. I had to ignore you and your feelings when I went with the Professor, which must have hurt you so much. I miss Alyious, he was wise beyond his years; the greater good must always come first.”
“Will we go back and start again?” Jackson asked, eager to change the subject. The past was gone, best to leave the subject until the next time that a madman was trying to kill them all. “There’s rebuilding to be done, fresh agents to train, a whole new science to explore. No doubt you can still educate me on the finer points of so many things.”
In answer, she wiped her eyes with a lace-gloved hand, then pulled him close. “We’ve hardly departed, let’s not think of returning.” She sighed. “I want to enjoy this time, just me and you, and yes, I’m looking forward to continuing your education, just as soon as we have eaten.”
She looked again at the ring on her finger, the twin of his. “The best thing is, now we no longer have to pretend to be wed.”
The End… for now.
Jackson and Jessamine will return in
The Safety of the Realm.
Read on for a brief look.
Chapter 1
Balawengo, the Spice Islands
The man waiting on the wharf was substantially overdressed for the conditions. Dark patches marked his light brown suit, where perspiration had soaked through. It was early morning; the sun had barely risen yet already it was hot and humid. He was unwilling to remove his jacket, the concealed gas-gun in its leather harness would be revealed and he was unsure of the reaction that might get from the local officialdom. A stranger in a strange land, the weapon was unlicensed, its possession by anyone not in uniform against the laws of this particular state.
The wharf and its sheds were perched on the edge of the jungles that covered the island. A dirt road, little more than a track, led away into the trees.
Months of rain had made the vegetation fecund and helped to grow the valuable seeds and barks that gave the place its name and value. A large settlement was hidden among the trees, yet from a position on the wharf, you would never guess at its presence. That was the advantage the islanders had in times of war. More effort was spent searching for them than in actual engagement. The man knew this from bitter experience, yet now, at least for the present, they were all friends together.
Gazing out towards the ocean, the sweating watcher could see a large metal steamship, its white hull and rows of glass portholes reflecting the low sun as it approached the breakwaters. About time too, he thought. Another day in this place would be too much. He had spent the previous night in an airless room, under a net to deter the insect life. All his meals on shore had been one or another type of Khorri, with no ale to wash it down. It was worse than the last time he had been here, even though then he had been fighting the inhabitants.
He scowled; now they were supposed to be his allies, yet too many of his friends had never returned to allow him to think of them as such. Drawing his thoughts back to the ship, and its comforts, he saw that there was a white wave breaking from its bow, showing that it was not reducing speed to engage a harbour pilot.
The ship, the King Leopold, was one of the new breed of passenger-carrying vessels. Known as cruisers, they catered for the new middle classes of Norlandia, those who had been elevated in monetary status by the industry of the country. Ships like this departed Norlandian ports regularly, taking the wealthy on excursions to foreign climes such as this place, although the man wondered at the attraction. The purpose of his journey resided on board, they were not expecting him and he wondered at the reception he would receive.
Norlandia was civilised, the climate temperate, apart from the heat and humidity, there was nothing here but dust, flies and an odour that was hard to describe, yet sufficiently obnoxious as to be unpleasant. He had arrived several days before, directly from Metropol City on a trading vessel. It was presently moored in a decrepit harbour on the opposite side of this island, he would be returning to it as soon as his mission was complete. Its purpose was to discharge manufactured goods and load exotic foodstuffs for its return journey.
It had been his intention to remain on board the trader; at least it was civilised. Any hopes of that had been dashed; it had been forced to divert, to allow for the arrival of this vessel. The cruiser had come from another one of the islands, on a more circular route, this was his only chance to catch up with it. There were people on board whose cooperation was required by their masters in Me
tropol City.
The vessel was less than two hundred yards away now, still coming at speed and showing no sign of altering its course. Its bow would hit the wharf almost directly in front of the man, yet he stood firm. The vessel was close enough that he clearly heard the shout of “hard to starboard, if you please,” from the ship’s wheelhouse.
Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the bow started to swing away from the wharf. Surely it was too late to avoid even a glancing blow with solid land. There was the rattle of chains as the offshore anchor was let go, the sound of a bell ringing. Smoke poured from the monster’s twin funnels. The ship’s stern dropped deeper as its propeller was reversed and bit into the water. Under its influence, and the drag of the anchor, the vessel turned its head away faster, its forward motion faltered.
There was the clanking sound of steam-mobiles from the large wooden shed that framed the rear of the wharf. His attention distracted for a moment, the man watched as two mobiles appeared, one went to each end of the wharf, where large yellow boards were placed, one marked with the word Bow, the other Stern. Several men disembarked and stood, waiting. He could also hear the sound of approaching equines, the jangling of harness and the squeak of poorly greased axles.
No doubt the locals were arriving to tempt the vessel’s passengers on excursions through the jungle and settlement in open carriages. And they would be selling trinkets at inflated prices. His foreign appearance had already made him a target of every purveyor of such things that he had met.
When he looked back, he was surprised to see that the ship was stopped in the water, parallel to the wharf and twenty feet away. Its propeller had stilled, and as he watched, light ropes were thrown to shore. As the men heaved on them, heavy mooring lines came with them, to be hooked over bollards. The ship’s winches must have been engaged; the hull was pulled sideways and was soon tight alongside. As a gangway was rigged, the man looked up at the crowds lining the decks. Practised eyes spotted the two people he was looking for. At the same time, the female of them opened her mouth in shocked surprise, she waved and he saw her turn to her companion.