Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection (50 page)

"And if you should need to talk--"

"Why, Mr. Bartleby," Miss Worth smiled sadly. "Such would hardly be proper."

He bowed his head slightly. "You are, of course, correct."

She returned a small curtsy and departed, leaving Alton alone in the study.

He kept his head bowed, deep in thought, reflecting on the words that he'd spoken. Much of the time when he was talking to someone, the words poured out from his subconscious, the right phrase in the right place, without him even considering them. Much of the time they were empty but harmless, or truths he already knew. Every now and again, these little monologues revealed a something he wasn't consciously aware of.

Aldora. She had suffered such pain over the last year, a hurt he was only dimly aware of. That brilliant part of himself, though, the part that was always working, always watching, never resting, that part of his mind had realised that there was much more to it. The demands upon her were many, and the demand that she
have
no weaknesses was itself a great source of suffering.

For her. And for those around her.

There was sudden activity at the telegraphy machine.

.- - / - .-. .- -. ... -- .. - - . .-. .-.-.-

Brilliant. James and Mr. Fiske were at the transmitter. As soon as Aldora had found Jago's hiding place, he'd give them the word, and Sarsosa would be placed into check.

***

Exalted Sirs,

It is my professional opinion that Talos is considerably unsound of mind. He is a danger to himself, those around him, and to the entire organisation. Even before the misfortunes that befell him Talos was a self-centred narcissist suffering from megalomania and delusions of grandeur, and his actions in Mexico reflect that clearly.

The loss of his humanity has been mirrored in his psyche. He no longer considers himself fully human, referring to his remaining flesh as a weakness. He thinks of himself as inherently superior to all others, including the Octovirate, of whom he has spoken disparagingly several times.

He has also become obsessed with Boadicea to the point of near monomania. It is my belief that he will twist whatever authority he is given into a revenge scheme of some sort. He clearly cannot be trusted, no matter how useful of an asset he has become. He does not care for his responsibilities to our organisation, or to you, exalted masters. He is a creature of pure selfish ego, despite the charming demeanour he is sometimes able to masquerade behind. You cannot control him. Do not let him convince you that you can.

My recommendation is that he be retired immediately.

Your servant,

Solon

Chapter 9

The articulated brass fingers of Jago Sarsosa's hands tore the speaker from the wall and threw it across the mill, wires trailing, sparks flying. It shattered when it hit the opposite wall, its casing shattering, the force of the impact tearing a divot out of the wall's timber.

The technicians manning the portable banks of instruments and controls that had been installed on the mill's floor flinched and ducked out of the way, several turning to stare in open-mouthed shock at their commander's rage.

He was a terrible sight in his rage, more massive than any mere human, the height of a man half-again, bristling with brass and copper augmentation. His entire left side shone under the gas lanterns hung from the wall, its brass casing reflecting the light all the way from fingertips, up his arm to his shoulder, to his finely shaped jaw. The flesh half of his face was twisted into a furious grimace, the cold metal half as implacable as ever. His metallic chest was bare, his shoulders covered by a dark velvet officer's cape that hung to mid-calf.

He stepped towards what looked like an octagonal brass cage and ripped the door off of its hinges. His yet-living hand pulled the hapless technician inside out of its installed seat and held him aloft.

"What do you mean you've lost contact?" His voice was a grotesque mockery, barely recognisable as human.

The technician struggled in his grip, feet kicking helplessly at the air while he struggled to speak. "All units beyond our immediate broadcast range have ceased reporting!"

Sarsosa let loose a mechanical growl and threw the man to the ground. He turned stiffly and reached into the cage, drawing forth segmented cable. He lifted his cape out of the way, pulled the cable around to his back, and jammed it into a socket between his brass shoulder-blades. His head slumped, and his eyes grew unfocused.

The technician stood, dusting off his simple black military jacket. Like the others working in the mill, he wore the uniform that the Commander demanded without comment.

Sarsosa's jaw drooped open. "I cannot connect to any of the cogsmen beyond the mill grounds."

"I told you, sir, there's no signal!"

His living eye focused on the man. "How can this be? How can she have taken care of all of my soldiers at once?"

One of the other technicians spoke. "Sir, if she disabled the main relay station--"

Sarsosa straightened and yanked the cable out of his back with a crackle.

The technician nearest him stepped forth. "Sir, you'll damage the contact heads--"

A swipe from his brass hand sent the man sprawling. "Of course. She'll be coming here next. How many of our reserves can we activate?"

"Potentially?" The technician stood, wiping blood from his lip. "All of them. Without needing the relay the delay should be insignificant enough, though the signal won't be enough to leave the mill grounds."

"That's all we need," Sarsosa said, turning back to his console. "She will come to us."

"Sir!" The soldier guarding the mill door turned his head. "She's already here!"

"Where?" Sarsosa demanded, spinning to face him, the velvet cape he wore billowing behind him.

The soldier backed away, raising his rifle above his head, into the mill. Each step revealed another inch of sharpened steel levered at his throat, a long rapier held by the hand of Aldora Fiske. Constable fuller followed behind her, rifle in hand.

"Fiske." The fleshy-half of Jago's mouth bared its teeth.

"Sarsosa," Aldora said, eyes flickering briefly towards him. "You've changed. The last time I saw you, you were bleeding to death with a spear in your eye."

Jago's flesh hand traced the brass casing around the crystal that functioned as an eye. "I've got a replacement. Do you like it?"

"It's very pretty," Aldora said. "I think I'll make a brooch out of it. However did you survive?"

Jago laughed, a rough mechanical sound. "Let us just say that it pays to have a wide variety of friends."

"What friends might these be?" Constable Fuller asked.

"Sir," the technician beside Sarsosa whispered. "Should I activate the remaining cogsmen?"

"No." He didn't take his eye away from Aldora. "No, I shall quite relish demolishing Miss Fiske with my own hands."

"You sound confident," Constable fuller said, bringing the rifle up to his shoulder, staring down its barrel at the machine-man.

"I beat you the last time we met," Aldora added.

"You were lucky, and back then I was a mere man." He unfastened his cloak with one hand, passing it to the man beside him. "Behold the new flesh."

A powerful leap sent Jago Sarsosa across the length of the mill, smashing through support beam and machinery alike.

***

Aldora threw herself aside as he smashed through the mill's doorway, rolling as she hit the ground, coming up again in a crouch. John was knocked aside, rifle spinning from his grasp.

Sarsosa rose to his feet as the structure of the mill shook, shuddered, and slowly collapsed behind him.

"Your men!" Aldora said. "You've destroyed your work, clumsy fool!"

"I can hire more men." Jago advanced on her. "I can build more machines."

Her blade darted forth towards his good eye. He slapped it aside with his brass hand, bringing his knee up when she countered with a low strike. The edge of her blade tore through his trousers and skittered along the brass leg beneath.

"Did you think that my choosing this village as my testing ground was accidental?" he asked, kicking a length of iron pipe towards her that she barely managed to deflect. "They did. Fools. Did not even bat an eye when I suggested your father's facilities as my first conquest."

"Who?" Aldora asked, lashing out again. Her blade cut a thin red line across Sarsosa's forehead.

The man didn't even flinch. "Those who would deem themselves Jago Sarsosa's masters. Their time will come."

He made a sudden, quick grab for her blade, but she managed to pull it from his grasp. "You're even more mad than the last time we fought."

"What you call madness I call enlightenment." Sarsosa caught her across the face with an open-handed slap, the force of which sent her reeling. "You taught me the weakness of human flesh. The frailty of bone."

John stood, having recovered his rifle. "Die, monster!"

He fired off a round at Sarsosa, but the deadly projectile merely ricocheted off of his chest-piece.

"You are still here?" Jago said. Confident strides took him to the constable as the man worked feverishly to chamber another round into the breech of his rifle.

He'd half-raised it to fire again when the Spanish half-man swatted it out of his grip. Cold brass hands grabbed the constable by his uniform front, and powerful hydralic arms flexed as Sarsosa hurled the man overhead into the debris.

He raised a clenched fist and paused to regard it as he turned to where Aldora had risen "Survival of the fittest. Remember, we spoke of it? Metal is so much more fit than flesh and bone."

"So you're giving up on your humanity?" She watched him warily.

"This way is better." The blood from his wound was dripping over his good eye, but it didn't seem to impair him. "You will come to understand. Well, not you. But the rest of the world."

"And if they refuse you?" Aldora lunged forward, the blade of her rapier slipping between the joints in Sarsosa's hip socket. She gave it a strong jerk, but the sword was trapped.

His brass hand shot out and snagged her wrist, shoving her away with tremendous force, sending her stumbling away backwards onto her seat. "They won't be given the choice."

Sarsosa took a half-step towards her then paused, looking down at his rear leg and the blade sticking out of it. He brought his brass fist down upon it with tremendous force, snapping it in half, then continued his advance.

A sharp pain shot up Aldora's leg as she struggled to rise, and she looked down to discover that a long metal bolt had pierced her calf when she fell. She grimaced and tried to grab a hold of it, but the blood-slicked iron slipped from her grasp.

Jago stopped and regarded her with what might have been pity. "You disappoint me, Fiske. You were so much more formidable when last we fought. What happened to you?"

She grit her teeth, again trying to pull the bolt from her leg.

Sarsosa stepped towards her

"Indeed, how the mighty have fallen!"

Jago's head swivelled and he turned, trying to find the source of the voice. "Is that your fiancée? Has he come to save you?"

"It's Mister Alton Bartleby to you, sir." The voice, clear and resonant, sounded like it was coming from close by.

"Wait here," Jago said, turning from Aldora. "I shall return with your Bartleby's head and we shall all have a chat."

"Don't bother yourself," Bartleby's voice said. "I can hear you just fine. Go easy on the girl; she's had a rough year."

"Yes." Sarsosa turned in place, slowly, as if scanning for him. "Her life must be very difficult, I am sure."

"Tremendously so. Why, just in the past year she's had to kill her brother."

"I was surprised when I heard. I did not think her capable of such a ruthless act."

"It was an act of mercy!" Aldora spat. "He was sick, the way you are. A mad dog."

Sarsosa chuckled. "And you would put me down out of kindness? It seems to me that you suffer more-so than I."

"You might not have heard of her kidnapping," Bartleby said.

"Bartleby!" Aldora gasped, reeling from the shock of her fiancée's betrayal.

"Kidnapping?" Sarsosa laughed. "Oh, the trouble you get into, Miss Fiske."

"Oh yes. She fell for a man, you see. Quite the unexpected twist from a woman with such a cold heart."

Sarsosa raised his eyebrow. "Your fiancée may be holding a grudge, Miss Fiske."

"Go to hell."

"I would rather create it."

"He of course was just using her," Bartleby continued. "But she was too love-sick to see his deception for what it was. I do believe that was the first time in years she had let herself be so vulnerable."

"Wise in that," Sarsosa stood, arms folded. "It takes a strong woman to forgo emotion like a man."

"Oh, she is strong," Bartleby continued. "She defeated you, didn't she? But of course, you had just killed her lover."