Alien Devices: Tesla joins crew to prevent alien zombie apocalypse (The Secret War Book 2) (24 page)

“Those things can be done, I believe,” Tesla answered after a
bit. Tesla blinked, frowning up at Rogers. “I fail to see how a pony would be
of use on an airship, Mr. Rogers. Pigeons, now,” he enthused, “Pigeons could be
very useful as couriers. They are quite intelligent animals, you know.”   Will
interrupted the non-sequitur before it could go further.

“Tesla, Abigail,” Will said quietly, “would you be good enough
to step outside for a moment? I think I need to talk to my First Officer and Arms
master about this.”

“Of course, Captain,” Tesla said with a glance at Rogers. “We
will await you outside. “Once the door was closed Will looked at Rogers calmly.

“So, Lawrence,” Hunting Owl said. “I take it that you have an
objection to Tesla's offer? A real objection this time?” Rogers crossed to
stand across from Will. The First Officer folded his hands behind him. Saira
remained where she sat, watching silently.   

“I do not quarrel with the notion that there is a need here,”
Rogers began. “These No-Men are a definite threat. But why should we come to
the call? We had our own mission before we ever knew of any of this, as I
should not need to remind you.”

“You do not,” Will said darkly. “I never forget it, I promise
you.” 

“I apologize for that remark, Will. I do know it,” Rogers
looked at him contritely. “But besides the fact that frankly, I think Tesla is
a barking mad man, I fail to see how this can lead us closer to Them.” Rogers
leaned his fists on the desk. “Listen, I fought the Invader all my bloody life.
I lost more friends to them than I care to remember. If they landed tomorrow, I
would be the first to say we should go after them. But zombie men with
supernatural abilities? Ancient Invader wars fought in the distant past? It is
all a bit much; you have to agree. I think that the connection is tenuous, at
best. It leads us no closer to the Black Airships “

“Maybe,” Will agreed. “Or maybe that is what the Invaders want
us to all think.” Hunting Owl leaned forward in his wicker chair. “Lawrence, I
know that you are a practical Englishman, but this is what my Dream was telling
me. I am sure of it. The Invaders are behind the Black Air Ships;

 I feel it.” He looked up at his looming friend. “Besides,
great evil needs to be challenged because it is evil, not because we expect to
win. Not only because the fight serves our own cause, come to that. Now will
you stop standing over me like some vulture?” Rogers let out a great sigh, his
shoulders slumped, before he wearily stood straight again.

“Alright,” Rogers said, grudgingly. “That is difficult to argue
with, damn your eyes.” The First Officer looked down at Saira. “And what do you
say?” Saira stirred in her seat. She looked up at Rogers, clearly startled to
be asked by him. They had so often been at apparent odds before now.

“I feel the Captain is right,” Saira replied simply. “Great
evil needs to be challenged because it is evil.” She shrugged. “Demons, No-Men,
or whatever we call them, we have proved they can be killed. Let us go kill
them. Really, you both think too much.” The two men laughed at this. Rogers
shook his head, ruefully.

“Demons and No-Men,” Rogers said disbelievingly. “Now I know
that I should be wondering if I am barking mad to agree with this adventure.”
Rogers shook his head, “But I cannot bring myself to disagree with it either.”
Rogers looked from Saira back to Captain Hunting Owl.

“I have followed you for five years now Will,” Rogers said
quietly. “It would be faithless of me to kick it over now I suppose.” He stuck
out a hand. “My apologies, Captain. Shall we go fight the good fight?” Will
clasped his outstretched arm.

“No apologies needed my knife brother. We will find Them, I
promise. let the wizard back in?” Rogers nodded at this, and began moving
towards the door. “Lawrence, Saira, let me do all the talking this time.”
Rogers looked over his shoulder at him.

“As the Captain wishes,” Rogers said to him dryly. 

When Tesla and Lady Hadley were seated again, Will pulled out
his pipe and tobacco from their drawer. He filled it in the growing silence of
the cabin, then lit the bowl. As the fragrant smoke curled out from his mouth,
he turned finally towards Tesla.

“So, wizard,” Captain Hunting Owl said, as clouds of smoke
surrounded his words. “You were talking about a Shield that could fit on a
ship, and some other things? Keep talking. . .” 

Chapter 23

G
raves focused his attention on the knock at
the door.
He had been deep in communion with the Master from Beyond, his
conscious floating in the ocean of that vast and cold intellect that had saved
him decades before. That had been when Graves had worn the body of an old man
and the name of a small poet. He looked down at the hands in his lap, the hands
of a man much younger than the century he had been alive.

“Enter,” he spoke aloud. At the same time, he vibrated his
vocal chords in a sub-sonic signal to the lesser servant he had whimsically
named Treacle, to instruct him to stand ready at the door. It opened to reveal
Nathaniel Bates, the captain of his personal air yacht.

“We are ready to depart, Milord,” the captain said while
standing at attention. As Graves was still in deep communion with the Master,
Bates appeared to Graves as if moving flares of light slipped over the physical
body of the man. The flares told the Master that Bates had eaten his usual
lunch of a hard-boiled egg chased down with whiskey, as well as every fact of
the man's biological and mental life. Graves gave to Mr. Treacle the sub-sonic
signal to stand down, while he spoke to Bates.

“Is Petrov situated, Captain?” Graves asked.

“Yes Milord,” the man replied. “There has also been no
Aetherwave message from the asset you contacted earlier. Do you wish to wait
longer, or shall we apply for clearance from the Port Authority?”

The Master with whom Graves was in telepathic rapport, informed
him that there was a 78% probability that the Warlord allies would not respond
before nightfall. He waited for news of the destruction of the airship carrying
target one, Tesla. It also showed him a projection of 98% that if their
departure was delayed until nightfall, they would not make London until after
the Lux Invictus meeting. It was imperative that Lord Graves attend that
meeting in person.

“We shall depart now,” Graves replied. “Please use the heading
I gave you. We will catch a favorable tail wind if we leave as soon as
possible.”

“Very good, Milord,” Bates had learned to never question these
pronouncements. Bates assumed the knowledge came from his ability as a Master
of the Lux Invictus. The captain raised his fist to his chest in the Order’s
salute. “Lux,” he said.              

“Invictus,” Graves replied, returned the salute, as the man turned
and marched away. Mr. Treacle closed the cabin door. Yes, Graves thought, it
had been a useful journey. Operation Jade, which would have given the Moscow
Circle a power-base in the Orient had been stalled, and the most powerful
second-circle agent of the Moscow Master had been suborned into Graves's
personal service. The Master Beyond approved. 

As Bates closed the door, a chittering sound from Mr. Treacle
filled the room. Graves frowned at the sound. From Graves’ mouth came a deeper
answering response. The sound caused Mr. Treacle to cower against the wall, as
if being beaten by invisible clubs.

“That will be enough of that,” Graves said to the servant,
sternly. “Bates has his uses, and is not to be touched. Your hunger is of no
concern in this.”

The dwarf slowly crawled across the Persian carpet on his hands
and knees towards Graves. As he came near the seated man, there was another
wave of rattling sound, much like the murmur of black beetle wings, from Lord
Graves’ mouth. There was a rustle of cloth, and a silver-grey tentacle snaked
across the desk top. Lord Graves held up his hand towards it.

“Be at ease,” Graves said soothingly to his servant. “Soon, you
will have a whole city to feed on. It is the natural order of things.”

Chapter 24

W
illiam Hunting Owl walked on to the Bridge
from his day cabin, Saira and Guang trailing along behind him.
After what
the Chin swordsman had done for Will during their time in Calcutta, Will was
inclined to let him stay aboard. Guang had made a home for himself with Saira’s
Tigers. That made arrangements for his presence on board easier. The bustle on
the Bridge paused, as Will was announced by Lawrence Rogers.

“Captain on deck!” The Englishman called ceremoniously. Will
waved away the pause, one-handed.

“As you were,” he ordered. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” He
crossed the Bridge to stand by his First Officer. Saira and Guang stood
together across the room.

“Well, Lawrence,” he said taking a sip of Wu’s special chai blend
from his mug, “are we about ready to get out of here?”

Rogers nodded.

“I believe so, Captain,” he replied. Rogers raised his voice, “All
right you Air Devils! Bridge Stations Report!” the first to speak was Naomi
Walters at the ship switchboard.

“All ship stations report ready for lift,” she announced, in
her poised, British voice. “Oh, Bridge Talker ready!” Naomi added, almost as an
afterthought.

The next to speak was Michael McGuire.

“Aetherwave station ready! We have clearance to undock from
Calcutta Authority,” he added, while adjusting knobs on his console. 

“Helm ready to lift,” Jarro growled. The Wheel looking like a
toy in his hands.

“Elevation ready! Awaiting orders!” said Sukoto Matori. As the
ships Elevator, she controlled the ballast and the ship’s trim.  The last to
report was a new station built to handle Tesla’s additions to the ships
abilities.

“Gadget Station ready!” Lady Hadley reported. The brass badge
of the
Wind Dancer
crew was still shiny on her vest. Tesla stood at her
side. He walked over to Will and Lawrence.

“Are you not going to try the chairs, Captain?” Tesla asked,
inclining his head towards the raised dais on which stood three wicker chairs. They
were light-weight, with swivel bases that were bolted to the deck. Will looked
at Tesla in surprise.

“Well, I suppose I could,” Hunting Owl allowed. He climbed up,
sitting down gingerly at first. His back relaxed into the cushions.

“Say, you might want to try this, Lawrence,” Will said. Rogers
shook his head wordlessly, preferring to stand.

“Well, suit yourself,” Will said. He gestured at Tesla to take
the other seat. Hunting Owl approved of the command chair. He could see the
whole of the bridge from here. There was even a place for his mug in the chair’s
arm.

“Mr. Rogers,” he said formally.

“Yes, Captain,” Rogers replied.

“Let’s cast off,” Hunting Owl ordered. “We have a Patron to get
to London,” he looked sideways at Tesla, “and a schedule to keep.”

“Aye Aye Captain,” said Rogers, “Casting off.”   

Acknowledgements

They say that while writing is a solitary profession,
publishing is not. That certainly is true of this current volume you hold in
your hands. Without the work of my editor and publisher, Ria Loader, this book
would not exist; it would also not be nearly as good.

I want to thank Joshua Books for his ceaseless enthusiasm and
input on electrical aerial fighting. Any faults in the science are purely my
own.

Thank you to Stephen from GearCon, both for inviting me, and
for his help in getting my writing out there. My appreciation to Lupa for helping
the wandering author. Appreciation to both of you for your care.

Finally, I want to thank you for reading this. Your support and
reviews on Amazon are what keep me writing.

Thank you all! 

Author’s afterword

Thank you for living for a while in the world of
Wind
Dancer
. If you liked this story, I encourage you to help others find it by
adding a review on Amazon. Writing a review is one of the best ways to be part
of making my next book better. Writing is a bit of a solitary profession; I
treasure every piece of feedback – write a little, write a lot – I will read
every word.

A list of my other stories can be found on the following
pages, together with a bonus story from my other book series.

My blog can be found at
ravenbond.com

Raven Bond

July, 2016

STRONG ADEPT

Episode 1
(where Jinhao, renegade Imperial Adept, meets Owen Strong, Sorcerer)

“The Trader has decided that we shall stay the night here
and go on in the morning,” Lee Shen said to Jinhao
. “You can take first
place in the stable loft. I shall lodge in the main house.”

Jinhao nodded wearily at the old trail boss. He was looking
particularly tired this evening. It had been a long day of travel that started
at dawn in their last camp. Everyone was ready for the ease and relative safety
of an established rest stop.

She had examined the ancient inn with approval in the flickering
light of the oil lanterns. It had seen better days but was still respectable,
with a strong wall around it and plenty of oil lanterns to banish the darkness
from the main areas. Shadows still lingered in the corners of the warren of
buildings. She dismounted, handing her reins to the stable boy who stood
attentive in the courtyard.

She turned, giving the dismount order to the other caravan
guards, together with their individual special tasks for the evening. The more
routine tasks would take be taken care of without her supervision. The pack
attendants began unloading the Trader’s boxes under the watchful eyes of the
guards who would see the goods placed safely in the stables.

She doubted, however, that anyone would be interested in the
Trader Chen Lu’s dyed silks, which made up the bulk of their cargo. To her eye
the tightly packed bales looked much the same as must a hundred other such
parcels. However, she set a careful watch over the travel cases in the same way
as she had on the long road journey, more in an attempt to assuage the nerves
of the old Trader than out of necessity.

Chen Lu, Master Trader from the Imperial City, had assured her
during a long night watch that the dye patterns were exceptional enough to
command very high prices among the foreigners, and should be guarded with
particular care. As those were anonymously rolled up and out of casual view,
she took precautions but was not particularly concerned. The guards knew their
job and she could leave them to it. The few pieces of silver and fine amber
jewelry the Trader carried were in a small strong box that rarely left his
side.     

The merchant caravan had traveled many miles over the last five
days, traveling down the Imperial Road from the capital to the border town of
Lou Hu, stopping at camp sites along the way. The town of Lou Hu was regarded
as the gateway from the Middle Kingdom of Han to the outlying province of Hong
Kong.

Hong Kong was its own special city. It was the demesne of the
Great Dragon, Lohan, who in his wisdom, and for his amusement, allowed a
mixture of government. The Government comprised both Chinese lords and the
foreign British, all advising, and definitely answering to the Dragon, rather
than the Imperial Court. It was said that many years ago the Dragon had greeted
and allowed the British Traders to enter the covered bay because of their Magia
and their sorcery, both of which made for shiny things to intrigue him. The
Dragon had then, it was said, ordered the Imperial Emperor to open the area to
the British. Whatever the truth of it, Hong Kong province was the only
Imperially sanctioned trading port for foreigners in all of China. It was also
true that Hong Kong was ostensibly administered by a joint Government of the
Han and the British Empires and had been so for many years. And Jinhao knew of
the Dragon.

In the distance Jinhao heard the whistle of an approaching
steam train. The train would travel all the way to the city of Hong Kong. The
Trader Chen Lu, not being wealthy enough to make use of the steam railroad,
still led a trade caravan down to the province of Hong Kong every spring, as
did many others. This meant pack horses, attendants, and, in these uncertain
times, more guards than was usual to protect against bandits. The increased
requirement for experienced guards afforded Jinhao the perfect disguise for her
to flee the Imperial City. After all, she reasoned, who would remark on one
more swordswoman caravan guard?

She had quickly displayed the acumen and discipline that had
caused Lee Shen to appoint her guard leader. Unknown to Jinhao, the canny old
trail boss had recognized in her the training of an Imperial Adept. Despite her
best attempts, Jinhao stood out like a wolf among the sheepdogs. The Trader
intended to have a smooth trip with no dominance issues among the guards, and
he had readily appointed her to ensure that none occurred. Jinhao had picked up
the reins of authority without any difficulties. Given that Imperial Adepts
were usually held close to the Throne as bodyguards, he wisely said nothing of
his suspicions. He was simply glad that she was along. If she was pursuing her
own clandestine interests at the same time, he could respect that. Should
bandits attack the caravan, he was sure that Jinhao would deal with them in
short order.

Adepts channeled a mystic force into martial prowess beyond the
capabilities of ordinary folk. Surely everyone knew that. Aside from that, he
did not care if he inconvenienced the Dowager Empress by borrowing her Adept.
His disregard for the feelings of the Dowager Empress was a sentiment that, if
Jinhao had known it, would have caused her less worry on the journey. Although
he had accorded her the loft sleeping space, as befitted her rank as guard
boss, rather than accept it, she would keep her usual practice and take her
sleep in a place where making a quick response to danger was assured.

Like most public rest houses, this one had a common room where
travelers gathered and were entertained. As the hour was late, there were only
two locals in the inn, to judge by their simple gray tunics and loose trousers.
Most travelers wore either colorful travel robes, such as the Trader wore, or a
mix of brown and black linens and leathers, such as those worn by Jinhao and
the other guards of the caravan.

 Jinhao ate by herself in the common room as was her habit. Her
traveling companions had learned that she was scrupulous about both her duties
and her privacy, and gave her space to herself. She watched the pack attendants
and off-duty guards at their dice game in one corner while Lee Shen coaxed the
portly old Trader to take some more wine. She was glad that Lee Shen looked
after the nervous old Trader; she doubted that she would have had his patience.
She dug into the spicy fish stew that was common to the province, her mouth
reveling in the burn of the spices, then took another mouthful of rice to cool
the burn down. After the blander dishes of the northern court, it almost tasted
like home. Home, as a child, had been here in the south.

After dinner, she checked that the Trader’s strong box was
secured to her satisfaction in his rooms. There was only the one way in or out
of the suite. She had placed her most attentive guard, a dour Tamil named Wong,
on the Trader’s room, while he and Lee Shen ate in the common room. To carry a
strong box in public was tantamount to screaming “I have something you want to
steal!” Luckily for Lee Shen and for Jinhao, the portly Trader was a veteran of
the road, understanding the need for discretion.

As she headed downstairs a most raucous din alerted her.
Drawing twin swords from over her back, she quickly hurried down to the common
room, fully expecting to find brigands forcing their way into the inn.

There, instead of invading bandits, she saw a single Westerner
surrounded by a whirlwind of the inn’s house servants bustling around and away
from him with cries of distress. The man was somewhere in his thirties, clean
shaven and wearing a black travel cloak with red trim. He held in one hand a
walking cane made of some kind of red metal, a Sorcerer’s cane if Jinhao ever
saw one. Doubtless this was what had the servants in a turmoil. Western
Sorcerers were not much seen outside of Hong Kong itself, and had a reputation
of being capricious. The man was pleading with them to wait and listen to him,
speaking in passable Mandarin. Jinhao was impressed. Most Westerners never
bothered to learn any language but their own. What the poor man did not realize
was that Mandarin was as foreign to the servants as Russian or English. Lou Hu
was situated in Shenzhen Province, which was largely settled by Tamil and Hakka
ethnicities, rather than Imperial Han. The fact that the Middle Kingdom was
composed of different peoples was largely lost on Westerners. She sheathed the
swords across her back as she strode into the room.

“What is the difficulty here?” she asked the man in English.
Most foreign travelers spoke English, and he looked as if he might be British
himself. He startled, then looked relieved at her appearance.

“At last. Someone who speaks the Queen’s tongue,” he replied in
the same language. “All I want is a room and a bath for the night. They,” he
pointed at the fleeing servants, “took off as if I were a bandit.”

The innkeeper chose that moment to come striding out from the
back of the inn, a heavy cudgel in his hands. Jinhao quickly stepped between
them.

“What is this, what is this?” the innkeeper shouted. “Foreign
devils threatening my staff?” He brandished the club in the Westerner’s
direction. Jinhao spoke to the innkeeper in his native tongue, Hakka.

“There has been a misunderstanding. This eminent person,”
Jinhao said, pointing to the stranger, “simply wishes a room for the night and
a bath. Do you have such available?”

This brought the innkeeper up short. His face took on a canny
look.

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I might. But it will cost him
extra. No one will want to come near his room after he leaves. I will have to
pay someone to come in from the outside to clean it.”

Jinhao had no patience for this sort of haggling.

 “Do you or do you not?” she asked the innkeeper shortly. The
man’s face took on a stubborn look.

“He will have to pay in advance!”

She nodded sharply and turned to the Westerner.

“Do you have money to pay for the room?” She asked in English.

“Well, of course,” the stranger replied. “Incidentally, what
language is it that you are speaking? I am not familiar with it.”

“Hakka,” Jinhao replied. “Most of the locals are not Han. While
your Mandarin is very good, likely only he,” she nodded at the landlord, “will
really understand you.”

“Payment,” the innkeeper demanded.

“Give the man money,” Jinhao instructed the Westerner.

He held up an Imperial gold talent.

“Will this be enough?” he asked. The innkeeper snatched it out
of his hands, while bowing deeply.

“Welcome,” the innkeeper said in broken, badly accented
English. He bowed again. “You come this way.” The Westerner looked at Jinhao.

“Follow him. You should have no more trouble.” She forbore from
telling him that he had just likely paid enough to buy half the inn. The
Westerner executed an intricate bow towards her, one worthy of the Imperial
Court itself.

“My thanks,” he said in perfect court Mandarin. “My name is
Owen Strong. I am a Peer of the Realm of Her Imperial Highness, Elizabeth the
Third of Britain. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, that I might make
offering to the Gods?” Jinhao had to struggle not to respond in kind which
would not be in keeping with her disguise of old linen and leathers. Instead,
she managed a sketchy bow of the kind that an untutored guard might make.

“Jinhao,” she said shortly. The innkeeper bobbed impatiently in
the background.

“You should go with him,” she repeated. The Westerner turned
towards the innkeeper.

“Well, lead on.” The Westerner made a hurrying motion with his
hands, then picked up the single bag at his feet.

“My thanks again,” he said with a shorter bow in her direction.
Jinhao gave him a nod, watching him climb the stairs after the innkeeper.

“You seemed comfortable with the foreign Devil,” Lee Shen
remarked, appearing at her elbow.

“I could not stand the commotion,” she replied. “Besides, he
was simply a man like any other.”

Lee Shen grunted.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Although I am not accustomed to having men
nearby who can call fire like a sword. It may be different for you.”

Jinhao thought he could have little idea just how accustomed to
it she was.

Lee Shen continued.

“Still, it was well done,” he said. “Dealing with him calmed
old Chen Lu right down. He was almost hopping with anxiety at the unlucky
appearance of the Westerner.”

Jinhao imagined the portly old Trader hopping from foot to
foot, wringing his hands. She suppressed an impulse to giggle. It would not do
to make fun of their employer, no matter how comedic his displays of worry had
been on the road. Lee Shen nodded, as if guessing her thoughts.

 “He was ready to pull up and go back on the road,” he added.
Jinhao whirled her head to look at him.

“Surely not,” she said in surprise.

Shen cocked his head to one side.

“I convinced him that it was too late,” Lee Shen said. “Too
dangerous to move around in the dark. Still, a
quizi
is an uncanny
thing.”

“You do not know that he is
quizi
,” she said sharply.
Quizi
was Mandarin slang for “Tricky Foreign Demon”, a term that had become very
popular here in the south over the centuries.

“I do not know that he is not,” Lee Shen returned. “Such a
meeting is uncanny in itself, I feel it in my bones.”

Jinhao failed to reply, suddenly feeling the crawling tingle up
her neck that she felt before a premonition. Lee Shen looked at her, noticing
her shiver.

“You feel it too,” he observed.

“Perhaps,” Jinhao said diffidently. She had no desire to
explain to him her birthright. Lee Shen nodded emphatically.

“Damn right,” he said forcefully. “Mark my words, uncanny.
Anyway, the Trader wishes to be off in the morning, as do I. Best get some
sleep.”