The Ghost Rebellion (18 page)

“
And from that look in your eye, I can see you have deduced I am English.” The doctor took off his flat cap, and held his arms outward in a shrug. “Then again I would have thought my skin colour or fashion choices would have been your first clue.”

One nod and Jekyll would be made quick work of, but how did he find them? “Featherstone,” Nahush guessed. “You are an associate of his.”

 
Jekyll’s eyes lit up with delight, but the levity did nothing to put Nahush at ease. “Yes, Hieronymus told me all about you, Nahush Kari. So good to finally meet the man behind the movement.”

Now Makeala stepped forward, her own blade raising upward, but Nahush slipped ahead of her, shaking his head slightly. Pushing back his instinct to give the order to kill this man, Nahush faced him. “You are taking quite a risk coming here.”

“
Really?” Jekyll let out an exasperated sigh. “Just as you did with that rather ugly scene at Fort St Paul?”

Whatever fear inhibited him vanished in that moment. Nahush drew his own knife and was on him, blade to his throat before anyone could move. “I am sick of white men offering solutions and then letting us do the dying. From what I was told, we were nothing but test subjects for your science experiments.”

Jekyll glanced down at the edge of the knife, but his breathing remained even. Nahush might as well have been holding a spoon to his flesh. “I assume you have questions about your æthergate. I have answers for you.”

Nahush trembled in that moment, wondering if it would be wiser to slit the doctor’s throat, or if that would result in something even more horrific happening. He didn’t like being this close to the man. Where Jekyll’s skin was in contact with his, Nahush could feel it puckering, quivering with strange spasms. He stepped back, glanced over to his soldiers, all of them waiting for a word, a command.

“
If your answers do not satisfy me,” Nahush warned, “you will disappear from this mortal plane. Completely.”

 “
It may surprise you how resilient I am, but certainly, yes, have your way with me,”—his eyes shot to Nahush with the kind of chill calm reminiscent of that tiger’s gaze—”
after
you listen to what I have to say.”

 “
I will give you five minutes.”

“
Five minutes? Quite a bit can happen in five minutes. First, a goodwill gesture.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brown bottle. He rattled its contents and then tossed it to Makeala. “That’s for your man against the wall, for any aches he may encounter. Now, to business…” He adjusted his cravat before taking a more central point of the room.  “Featherstone was a patient of mine. I had a bit of influence over him, and when I heard that he was pawning off shoddy æthergate technology to you, I made it my priority to find you and apologise on his behalf. Reckless behaviour that I cannot abide by.”

“
Featherstone knew this science was dangerous?” Jagish asked from Nahush’s left. The faint creak of leather meant Jagish’s grip must have been quite firm around his kukri.

“
Yes, I am sad to say,” Jekyll said. “He spun a yarn, if I am to understand correctly, about the occupation of India being too costly and therefore he wanted to help you in this quaint rebellion of yours.” He nodded. “Yes, total poppycock. At great risk to my own life, I regret to inform you that you lot were test subjects in Featherstone’s grand experiment.”

Jagish and Omar took a step towards him, but Nahush held them back with a look. “And I am to believe you because…?”

“
If you check with your spies in Bombay, particularly the contact that introduced you to Featherstone, you’ll find I’m a wanted man, and rather a nasty piece of work—at least according to the British. Two peas in a pod, we are.” Jekyll strolled over to the writing desk in the far corner and slid out its chair for himself. He casually glanced at the collection of books and nodded in appreciation. “Oh yes, we do share a few things in common.”

“
We are nothing alike,” Nahush seethed.

“
We both want something, something each other has.” Jekyll took a seat and then checked his pocket watch. “Please, another five minutes?”

Makeala touched Nahush on the shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “The enemy of our enemy could be useful.”

Nahush cast a glance over his leaders, and then took the seat across from Jekyll while they sat once more on the floor. However, this time with their weapons across their respective laps.

“
The æthergates are based on rather flimsy trials from an incident involving the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences,” Jekyll stated, producing from the inside pocket of his coat a small notebook, a larger, folded parchment seeming to serve as its bookmark. “Featherstone believed he could control the side effects, but needed test subjects. Initially, it was to be the men of St Paul’s, but on discovering one of your spies, he took it upon himself to kill two birds with a rather ambitious stone.”

Nahush frowned and only just restrained the urge to poke the man in the shoulder. “What exactly do you know?”

“
Tell me, Mr Kari,” Jekyll began, considering him in a way that made him feel exactly like a piece of meat, “how many missions have you conducted using the gates?”

“
Four,” he replied. “Recruitment operations.”

Jekyll pulled out a pair of spectacles from his jacket pocket, put them on, opened the book at the point where the parchment marked, and examined Nahush even more closely. “And I take it you did not accompany your brave soldiers on their daring raids?”

“
Are you implying Nahush is a coward?” Omar asked.

“
On the contrary,” Jekyll said, “it is foolhardy for great leaders to charge into battle, lest they fall themselves. Who then will lead in their stead? Southerby learned that, didn’t he?” His eyes narrowed on Omar, and Nahush watched his captain grow ashen as Jekyll gave the man his undivided attention. “You strike me as a man of action. How many times have you stepped through the æthergate?”

Omar swallowed. “Six.”

The doctor didn’t even blink. His eyes grew dark and dangerous behind his glasses, and a strange blue tint radiated over his face, yet his voice was still calm. “When was the last time you ate?”

Omar hesitated. “I…I can’t…”

“
Before St Paul, there was the attack on the Bangalore Club, if memory serves?”

“
That was three weeks ago.”

“
And that was the last time you enjoyed a meal of any description. Probably the last time you felt thirsty as well.” Jekyll glanced at the open journal in his hand and nodded. “Repeated æthergate travel—at least the experimental version that Featherstone offered you—comes with quite a number of side-effects, which are unfortunately striking your soldiers. Your body is—now, how did Featherstone describe it to me—confused as to exactly where it is. A very simplified description, I’m sure, but prolonged exposure to its radiation will continue to tear apart your physical presence between two locations until...” and he spread his hands open, wiggling his fingers as he whispered, “poof.”

Makeala had taken a place at her cousin’s shoulder. He had not even noticed her standing up. “Can you stop it?”

“
Oh, that is easy enough,” Jekyll said, “Stop using the æthergate. Eventually, the body heals itself, provided the side effects are caught in time.”

“
But we must strike now.” Shardool groaned, having found his voice again as he took a seat with the others. “The army at Bombay will only strengthen if we give them time. All that we have done will be lost if we don’t press on.”

 “
You have no reason to trust me, Mr Kari, and every reason to slit my throat.” Jekyll closed the small notebook, and folded his hands on top of his notes. “I will provide you a safer alternative to the æthergates, which will still allow you to transport your men to where they need to be, and I will not ask for compensation until you are certain of the technology’s worth.”

If Nahush were a Christian he might have thought he was faced with the devil, but there was the Nāga from his own pantheon that Jekyll resembled. The trickster. The Persecutor of All. The King Cobra of great prowess and strength, living only to devour others. Yet, Nahush was not religious in that way. Science, even for its recent failings, had taken them further than they’d ever gone before.

“
Keep talking,” he said, his hand nevertheless drifting to the hilt of his knife.

“
This other technology, I can attest, comes from modern sciences well within our own understanding, its advancements allowing you limitless possibilities. Believe me, I want this device to work for you. If your movement succeeds, I will in turn.”

Nahush leaned in close to the doctor, though every one of his senses told him not to. “How?”

“
Your stand against the Empire will not only draw the attention of the crown, but more importantly the attention of the Ministry. That means I can move about with a bit more freedom. Scrutiny is not something I work well under.”

“
Your act of goodwill does not come without a cost?”

“
Certainly not,” he chuckled, slipping the parchment out from his notebook and offering it to Nahush.

His eyes glanced over the paper, and then again just to be certain. “This is what you want in exchange for your services?”

“
Do we have an agreement?”

Nahush could feel the rest of his seconds staring at him, and he knew what his captains and lieutenants were thinking. Trusting another white man so soon after being duped by the previous one was insane.

However, what other options did they have?

In the manner of the British, Nahush held out his hand. “Produce results, doctor. We must strike soon, and harder than before. If the British are seeking retribution…”

“
Carpe diem,
Mr Kari.” The corners of Jekyll’s eyes crinkled. His smile was kindly. Nahush did not trust it. “Tonight, I shall return with a few tools of this trade. I am sure we can salvage some parts from Featherstone’s æthergate to use in our new endeavour. We’ll have you bringing the dickens to the army before the week is out. You have my word.”

As Nahush rose to his feet, shaking hands with their new collaborator, he caught Makeala’s sharp gaze. She looked as stern as ever, but he could detect her concerns. They were the same as his, he was sure, but for now there was at least a glimmer of hope that their mission could be salvaged. It would have to be enough for now.

Chapter Seven

Wherein Our Dashing Archivist Rallies What’s Left of the Troops

The modest stack of case files landed against the desktop with a dull thump. Wellington tried to clear his head, tried to get out of his mind’s eye the sight he had just left. When he first undertook his duties as the Ministry’s Chief Archivist, Wellington had to set right the Archives in London. That had taken him a year. Once things were in order, he intended to travel to the larger field offices and restructure their own archival storages, starting with India. It had been a four-month undertaking; but when he was done with them, the Indian Archives rivalled London in their efficiency and expediency.

Now, thanks to the Department of Imperial Inconveniences and the reconstruction of the Ministry, his work had been reduced to a diorama of the Sacking of Rome.

There was a strange, surreal quiet of the office, broken by just a murmur from the street outside, the rhythmic tick of contraptions at the far end of the room, and the snicker of the clerk on his typewriter. The odd cacophony he found rather pleasant after the excitement at Fort St Paul and the initial investigation that followed. He rapped a knuckle against the stack of files he managed to salvage from the Archives. Anything he could find on æthergate activity could be useful.

Wellington caught himself glancing at the clock again. He was trying very hard not to wonder when Eliza would return, nor preoccupy himself in wondering what she and Vania were discussing. Wellington understood the guilt Eliza carried with Ihita Pujari, but he could not fathom
why
she blamed herself. He knew her guilt after his own time in the battlefield. Sending young men to their demise all too soon had driven him away from life in the military. Eliza’s guilt, however, was unfounded. It was not as if Ihita had been following her orders. She had been a victim of the Culpepper sisters and their fanatical desire to stop the Suffragette movement. Perhaps Eliza’s guilt came from the fact she was alive and Ihita was not. Far be it from him to deny her a chance at, perhaps, finding a sense of redemption with Vania.

With Fort St Paul secured under nominal Ministry control, they had returned to the office in order to access the Archives as well as search Featherstone’s secret apartment. If he needed quiet, the office appeared to be the best place in India. Nearly all of the agents had accompanied Director Smith to continue investigation into the separatists’ attack, anything to stave off retribution from England. Spreading the dossiers across the desk, Wellington organised the various incidents chronologically, except for this one. Case #18840716INLD.

Now,
he thought to himself,
provided I can work uninterrupted…
 

“
Agent Books!” a voice, accompanied by a rattle of running footsteps, called from the stairwell.

Wellington groaned softly.
Sometimes, I wonder if I am not trapped in some sort of penny dreadful.
 

The agent appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide, back straight. She looked very young, and perhaps a tad over excited. She brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and looked like she might actually give a salute. “Agent Books, sir,” she said, her voice somewhat strained. “I just picked up a surge in the ElectriFlux. A huge one.”

“
Excellent.” They stared at each other for a moment. Apparently, this news was quite the sensation. It was just lost on Wellington, sadly. “And you are?”