The Age Atomic (18 page)

 

THIRTY-FOUR

 

The man stirred in his bunk. How long he'd been asleep, he wasn't sure. Time passed strangely where he was, although maybe that was his imagination. Years of solitude, years of travel had taken their toll.

The signal was a constant pulsing tone, not loud enough to have woken him, just loud enough to have entered his dreams, the signal becoming a flashing blue light, the light of the gap between one universe and the next.

The man rubbed his good eye and pulled thick fingers through his white beard, and then he lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling of the ship as the tone continued.

Maybe this was a dream too. Maybe the signal was his imagination, an auditory hallucination. Maybe it was the outside tricking him. It had a habit of doing that; he'd discovered many places on his travels, some of which were cities, whole countries where life went on. Others were places that seemed to be alive themselves.

And they liked to trick him, make him see things, make him hear things. After years of this the man wasn't sure what was real, not anymore. Maybe he'd died a long time ago, on that day when the ice was thick and the fog was deep, the day he'd stepped into it and left the world.

“Sir?”

The man jolted on the bunk, suddenly wide awake. He sat up too quickly, his hand pressing his forehead as the room spun. He waited a moment, then swallowed and glanced at the door to the flight deck. On the control panel in front of the pilot's seat he could see one of the row of orange lights flashing in time with the tone.

A shadow moved around the flight deck.

“I have located the source,” said the voice.

“A signal? From the city?”

“I believe this is what you have been waiting for, sir.”

The man heart raced as he listened to the tone. He blinked. The signal was… wait, the signal was…

He looked back to the ceiling. “That's not a regular transmission.”

The shadow moved, but the other voice said nothing.

The man swung himself from his bunk, the end of his wooden leg loud against the floor of the ship. He reached for his walking stick, and went to heave himself to a standing position, but then he paused, head cocked, looking at the floor and listening, listening.

“I recognize it. The signal, it's–”

“I quite agree,” said the other voice.

The man pulled himself up and stumbled into the cockpit, using the pilot's chair to kill his momentum as he dropped his walking stick and stared through the main window. Outside the fog was thinning; the lights of the city were faintly visible as a multicolored smudge of twinkling stars. The frame of the bridge was barely there, a smudge dissolving into the orangey-grey world.

The man gripped the top of the pilot's seat and licked his lips. He was alone in the cockpit. He was alone in the entire ship.

He allowed himself a small smile.

“It's him, isn't it?”

There was a pause, and then a second voice sounded from somewhere behind him. “I believe so.”

“So, he found his way back.”

“As you once predicted, sir. The arc of his transit returned him to the Empire State.”

The man nodded. “Like a comet in orbit around the sun.” Then he laughed, and swung himself around into the pilot's seat. He smoothed down his mustache and beard, and glanced across the controls with his one good eye. He frowned, and lifted the eye patch that covered the other, and squinted. Satisfied, he let the eye patch flip back into place, and he clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

“I do believe we shall be in time for tea. Byron?”

“Yes, Captain Carson?”

“Trace the signal, and get a lock on its position. We shall collect them
en route
to Grand Central.”

“Confirmed. Tether release in five seconds.”

Captain Carson clapped his hands again and laughed. After all this time, they were going home.

 

THIRTY-FIVE

 

It was no good, and Rad knew it.

They'd charged the main group of robots in the car, and Rad was glad that Jennifer was driving because she was unwavering, fearless, as she accelerated and plowed straight into them. The robots had tried to part, to get out of the way as the car hurtled towards them, but there were a lot of them, and several went flying over the long hood of the car, some rolling up over the windshield before sliding down the side. Rad was amazed the car could stand the punishment, but looking down the length of the hood he saw it hadn't even been scratched.

But the numbers were against them. Jennifer slowed, the car losing momentum and power. The robots still trying to get out of the green headlights that seemed to cause them so much pain were now pushed against the hood, rocking the car.

Jennifer threw the vehicle into reverse, turning to look out the back as she tried to find an exit. Rad turned as well. It didn't look good.

“We need to head south,” said Kane, lying in the backseat. “Downtown!”

“Tell me something I don't know,” said Jennifer, expertly threading the car backwards through the closing mass of robots behind them, then swinging back around as they returned to 125th Street. She shifted gears, and without hardly a pause at all, they shot off down the empty street. As they sped onwards, Rad noticed the cone of green light in front of them was off-center: one of the headlamps had been smashed. So, the car wasn't indestructible after all.

“Dammit.”

Rad looked up. On their left, another group of robots came out of a side alley, another ragtag bunch of shapes and sizes and in varying stages of deconstruction. Jennifer dodged them as they stepped out into the road, but looking back Rad could see more coming out of a street opposite. Perhaps they were attracted to the sound of the car, knowing that it meant the King was out and about, saying hello to his loyal subjects, maybe choosing the lucky ones who would come back to the theater and be saved.

Kane righted himself in the back, and grabbed the top of Rad's seat to pull himself forward. “They're coming out of everywhere. How many are there?”

Jennifer kept her eyes on the road, but she shook her head as she drove. “Who knows how many the King had waiting. My guess is Harlem is full of them.”

Rad frowned. “And that's not counting the warehouses downtown. The King has thousands of robots – a whole army – hidden across the city.”

Jennifer turned her golden face to him, and Rad raised an eyebrow. He could see her eyes through the slots in the mask.

Rad said, “The Harlem robots, they're the refugees, gathering around the King of 125th Street, waiting for him to get to work, turning them back into people.”

“Yes,” said Jennifer. “Only he isn't. He's finishing the job, converting them fully into robots.”

“Then shipping them downtown, putting them in storage–”

“But keeping a few active, like Cliff, to look after them until they're ready.”

Rad whistled. “And in the meantime, Cliff and the others like him, they're organized, working to a plan. They pull crimes, stealing equipment, materials, that the King needs to keep working. The robot gangs. Now it makes sense.”

Kane shook his head. “Robot gangs? Sorry, I've been out of town.”

Rad grimaced. “Don't sweat it. We just need to get out of here first.” He turned to Jennifer. “What happened to that gun of yours?”

She glanced over her shoulder, into the backseat. “Actually, it might be in here.”

Kane ducked down. “Bingo,” he said after a moment. Then he bobbed back up and passed the weapon to Rad.

Rad turned it over in his hands. “How do I check the ammo?”

“You don't,” said Jennifer. “But it should be charged. It's good for one shot and one shot only, remember?”

“OK,” said Rad, adjusting his grip on the gun, getting used to the awkward weight of it. “Last resort only.” He turned around to Kane. “You remember anything about your dreams?”

Kane sighed and sat back. “A little. There's a woman, a woman with blue eyes. And movement, lots of movement.”

Jennifer glanced at Rad. “Dreams?”

Rad nodded. “As well as powering the King's operation, seems the star reporter here can see the future. The King thinks Kane's dream is about an army invading the Empire State from New York.”

“An army of what?”

“Guess,” said Rad.

Jennifer sighed. “So that's why the King is building his own force?”

“Got it in one.”

Nobody in the car spoke for a while. The road ahead was clear.

“Agent Jones,” said Rad eventually, “what did the Corsair mean when he said you hadn't told us?”

Jennifer didn't say anything.

“You were on the trail of the robot gangs before you called me. What else were you looking for?”

Jennifer shook her head, and then said: “I'm looking for my brother.”

Rad whistled and drew breath to ask the next question when the car slid on the icy road as Jennifer yanked the wheel, hard.

She swore, leaning against Rad as the car turned. Looking out his window he saw the road slide past sideways as the car spun around. Ahead, the road was blocked by a huge group of robots, much larger than the pack they'd charged near the theater. These robots were silver, uniform, marching in a slow step in perfect time. In the Harlem night dozens of red eyes shone like coals.

Rad clung to the handle above his door as Jennifer pushed the huge vehicle to its limit. They shot down a side street, the side mirror on Rad's side clipping the iced brick of the building on the corner. Then Jennifer pulled left, heading south via a different route. But it was no good; there were more of the warehouse robots blocking the road. Jennifer swore again and took the next left, turning just in time to kiss the first row of machine men with the rear of the car. The vehicle jumped and Rad bumped his head against the ceiling.

“Looks like they've rolled out the cavalry for us,” said Rad as the car skidded on the slick road as Jennifer pushed it down the next street. “Ah, this isn't good.”

The road ahead narrowed alarmingly, but that wasn't the worst part. A building had collapsed across the street, blocking their way entirely.

Jennifer jammed on the brakes and the car jackknifed, sliding on the ice. Rad grabbed the handle above his door with two hands as the car turned like the hands of a clock. Rad could see Kane lying flat on the floor in the backseat, thrown there by the sudden braking, and Jennifer's hands were on the wheel, moving it, coaxing the car around, trying to regain control.

The rear of the vehicle collided with the rubble on the road, and the car kicked, the wheels spinning. Jennifer gunned the accelerator, her hands moving the gearshift, but Rad could hear the wheels spin on the ice and dirt even above the roar of the engine. The car jerked a little, but a wheel was caught on something. Rad and Jennifer both strained to see out of the back window as Kane pulled himself up. Jennifer played the accelerator, and the car rocked gently from side to side, but they weren't going anywhere, not anymore.

Kane pointed forward.

“Ah, guys?”

Rad and Jennifer spun around to see. The end of the street from which they'd just come was now filled with robots. There was five hundred yards separating the group and the car, but the gap was closing fast. The robots marched forward, their pace slow but sure. They were going to box them in.

“Last resort,” muttered Rad. He wound his window down and raised himself up on the seat until he could get his whole upper body out of the car. He pointed the gun, not sure what to aim at, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Rad glanced at the weapon, but aside from the trigger it was featureless, with no other controls.

“Thought you said this gizmo was recharged?” he yelled.

“It should be,” came Jennifer's voice from inside the car. Rad frowned and tried again. Nothing. The weapon was dead.

“Well, ain't that swell,” said Rad.

“Get back in!”

Rad obliged, the silver gun useless in his lap. The car's engine barked and the whole vehicle shook, confirming Rad's fears that there was more damage than a jammed wheel – until he realized the sound was from outside the car. A second later, the roadway was filled with a bright white light. As Rad's eyes adjusted, two wide beams stabbed downwards. They swept back and forth across the road before one focused on the car, the other on the robots. The robots came to a halt and as one their red eyes pointed to the sky as they all looked up.

“What the?” Rad and Jennifer leaned over the dashboard to see, while Kane fumbled to get a window open in the back.

Something large descended onto the street, throwing a downwind that blew frost up from the road in huge, glittering clouds of particles that glinted like stars in the spotlights. The object moved over the car, towards the robots, then turned with surprising speed and touched down. It was an airship of some kind, although not one of the now-retired police aerostats. This was more like…

Rad's eyes went wide. More like the
Nimrod
, the airship of Captain Carson. Rad raised a hand to cut out the glare and caught a glimpse of silver and metal

This thing was much larger than the
Nimrod
. And the last time Rad had seen the Captain's explorer craft, it was jammed next to the bulk of an Enemy airship, the pair locked together and piloted out into the fog by the Captain's companion, Byron.

Jennifer floored the accelerator with a yell and the car sprang free of the rubble, skidding to the right as the spinning wheels hit the ice. She turned, hard, but the road was too slick and although the car began to turn, it was still moving forward, towards the ship. Whatever it was, they were going to hit it, and Rad was fairly sure the car really was going to be wrecked this time.

Then the light cut out. For a moment the darkness was disorienting. Then the green of the car's one remaining headlight flooded the view ahead, like there was suddenly a wall right in front of them. Rad flinched, throwing himself to one side instinctively, and the green light faded as the car continued to turn. There was a soft, deep thud as the car hit something and came to a stop.

Rad pulled himself upright.

They were inside the airship – it had opened a cargo door. The white spotlights illuminating the street were now out beyond the bay doors. Ahead, Rad could see the rubble of the collapsed building.

The car had collided with a collection of wooden crates and sacks of something softer, destroying several boxes and spilling the contents of the sacks. The air was filled with a harsh scraping – the sound, Rad realized, of the car's stuck engine. Jennifer killed it, and the floor of the cargo bay tipped. The car slid against the wall, and the view of the road outside vanished as the airship lifted off and the cargo bay doors began to close.

Lights were thrown on outside. Rad looked around, and saw Jennifer and Kane were as surprised as he was that they been suddenly, unexpectedly, rescued from a dead end.

“Mr Bradley, a pleasure, as always,” came a voice, metallic and echoing, coming from all around them. The voice over the ship's PA filled the cargo bay.

Rad felt Kane looking at him.

“Is that…?”

Rad nodded. Then he opened his door and swung a foot out. He leaned forward and looked at the cargo bay's high ceiling. The place vibrated as the ship's propeller engines carried them up and out to safety.

“Captain Carson, you sonovabitch.”

The PA squawked as the voice laughed.

“My dear detective, such a way with words,” said Carson. “Now, come up to the main deck, all of you. Follow the stairs. I'll open the doors.”

Rad cracked a grin and slapped the top of Jennifer's seat. “About time I started to count these blessings we all seem to have. Come on.”

He swung himself out of the car, Kane right behind him. Rad pointed to the narrow metal staircase ahead of them, leading to a walkway that ran around the hold halfway between the floor and ceiling. On the walkway at the back of the hold was the bulkhead door.

Kane took a step forward, but Rad turned back to the car. Jennifer hadn't moved from the driver's seat.

Rad peered in to the car's interior. “You coming?”

She nodded, and Rad helped her out. But as she walked forward he kept his hand on the small of her back.

They had a lot of talking to do, all of them.

Especially Special Agent Jennifer Jones.