As I’m working on Tinker related projects, I occasionally find my way back to this site to remember a name or whether I had certain things happen before certain other things — Jogging my memory of my own words.

I get surprised, however, to find that there are still people checking in with this page.  Today, for some unknown reason, there have been 18 unique visits.  I get a similar feeling of joy and honor when new people are still signing up to be fans on the tinker facebook page.  Every time I think that I’ll never get this done, something comes along and reminds me that people really LIKED my characters.  They looked forward to seeing what I was going to do next with the story.

Things are a different now from that year I dedicated hours every Wednesday and Thursday to make Tinker happen.  My job is different.  I met a girl and we are now engaged.  But I know that while I can’t promise it’ll be done soon (even if it IS National Novel Writing Month), I was reminded today that I need to get this done.  You guys keep asking me about the world I built — and I can’t just leave it there.

If you guys want to keep my fire stoked, leave me some love.  I literally have been trying to shove writing time in between responsibilities and that pesky thing they call sleep that I’m trying to investigate from time to time.  Leave comments here on the blog, write me at vonclockverk@gmail.com, or become a fan of us on facebook.  If you’re already a fan — stop by and share something you liked about the story.  You guys are what feeds my desire to keep going.  Without you, I don’t think it would ever get done.

To those of you that are either just discovering what I did, or are checking in the hopes that I post something new — thank you.  It really does mean a lot to me.

If you are seeing this, you’re probably a regular reader.

If you’re a regular reader, you realize that two weeks now I’ve gone with no post, even though I told you there WOULD BE.

Sorry about that.

I thought it about time that I came on here, as well as on my other site and tell you that there won’t be any new Tinker episodes.  This has been an amazing journey.  I honestly never thought it’d make it this far actually.  A full year has gone by with a new episode each week, and you all have been so good about telling your friends about my silly little stories.  This blog has had me dialoguing with artists, authors, and musicians throughout the steampunk community, and it has provided me with an immense amount of joy to write.  In a way, I’m really going to be sad to see it go.

However . . .

Tinker isn’t done.  No, my brass and gearbolt friends, no.  What I have been up to in the past two weeks is the expanded vision that I told you about for my July “vacation.”  When I first came up with the idea, an indie author friend of mine said told me that the blog would die.  I’d set to work and not have any time for it.  I scoffed at this, banking on my love for the written word!  I was quickly proven wrong.  I only have so much time to write, and what precious little of it I have lately has been devoted to the book.  I’ve been outlining, doing character studies, and sketching out the world these blogs have laid the foundation for.  I have been plotting away in notebooks and computers in order to start the process of bringing Tinker to you folks in a much more fluid and well put together state. 

I have no publishing time.  I have no idea when I’ll be done with it.  I can promise you I’ll make it happen, and I hope you’ll be there when it does.

I want to keep you all in the loop of what I’m doing — progress I’m making, and even a little slip of knowledge here and there.  Such as –

Did you know that when they were boys, SJ and Magnus were good friends?  That all changed when the two of them schemed with a young boy named Henry Reubens to go Uptown

I have so many things going on in my head.  The plots of several episodes will be involved, some won’t.  More stuff that never made the blog will come about in the story.  Stick with us, won’t you?

This blog will be up at least until December of this year.  I fully intend on turning Missives from the Tinkerverse into a site to find info on my process.  The difference from its use now is that I’ll actually use it more.

Also, feel free to follow Hodgepodge over at Twitter.  You never can tell what that boy might be up to.

Again, I want to thank all of you for reading.  I would have never thought I could even begin this journey if you hadn’t kept showing me it was worth doing.

That being said — This is Mike signing off.  Always remember — Hodgepodge loves you.

“Captain, we’ve got someone on the wire.”

“Who the hell is calling us?”

“Not sure, Ma’am, but she’s asking for you.”

She ripped the receiver from his hand, “Who’s this?  Alright then, what’s this about?  Giles, I need paper and ink now!”  Her hands gestured wildly as she continued talking, “How do you know it’s them?  I just sent word out a few hours ago.  Surprised you even got it this quick.”  Mr. Giles came with the paper and ink and Dru began to scratch at the page.  “Did you happen to notice any prisoners?  Christ almighty it’s them.  Thank you, Captain.  If you’re in New York again, you find me and I’ll buy you drinks til neither of us can stand.”

She kissed the old man’s bald head, “Never doubt the fraternity of sky pirates, Giles.”  She walked the paper over to her navigator, “Go.  Run like the fires of hell are finally catching us.”  Turning her attention back to the first mate, she said, “That was just the captain of the Phoenix out of Virginia.  Says they saw some odd looking soldiers about an hour’s flight from here.  We’ve caught them.  Ready the men.  This won’t be pretty.”

“Aye, Miss.”

“I’ll be in quarters ‘til we are within firing distance.”  She made her way to the captain’s quarters.  Her quarters.  Her ship.  How long had she been on the Adolphus?  Four years, maybe five?  As the door closed behind her, the tears came.  She bit her lip until she felt a drop of blood trickle down her chin.  “Enough of that, Dru.  This isn’t you.  You don’t lock yourself in a room and cry like a little girl.  When someone calls fight, you answer.  When someone destroys something you like, you make them pay.  And when someone has the nerve to try and take what’s yours,” she parted the doors to her armory, “You take it back.”

“That’s an awful lot of guns, Dru.”

She turned, her pistol cocked, only to find Heinrich leaned up against the doorway.  She dropped her gun.  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it is not wise to sneak up on a pirate in her room?  Especially when she’s within arm’s reach of a dozen things that could make you dead?”

He walked in, looking around the room, “She’s a great ship, you know?  You’d talked about her a lot, sure, but being here.”

“She’s a bit more than the Adolphus, isn’t she?”

He caressed a bit of copper tubing that made snaked around the wall, “Different.  She’s different than the Adolphus.  She’s built for entirely different purposes than he was.  She has a different personality.”

She chuckled.  “Spoken like a true engineer.”

“You don’t have to be an engineer to see it.  If you look, you can see it.  Every boat’s got their own way about them.  Sam knew.  It’s why she picked the Adolphus.”

Dru began inspecting her guns, “Don’t talk about her in the past tense.  We’re getting her back.  Won’t be long now.”

“I heard,” he said in an indifferent tone, “Sam saw what was inside the Adolphus.  She still had money back then, you know.  She could have chartered a flight on one of the bigger boats, one with more to offer a person of her status and nobility. She chose the Adolphus because she saw into his soul.”

“You’re full of it, Heinrich.  We were all hurt to see the Adolphus burn, but it was just a boat.  Johannes will have another one up and running before long.”

“Oh, I’m sure the captain will get another boat when all this mess is sorted out.  We’ll get him out of wherever the hell they took him, and with a reputation like his, somebody’ll get him a bird. But there won’t ever be another Adolphus.  The captain won’t be the same either.”

“Now you’re full of it.  There’s nothing on earth that’ll ever change Bosch.  The man’s a rock.”

“That ship was a part of him.  Not built for fighting, but quick to defend crew and kin.  Honest, reliable, and while he might break down time to time, you always knew that with a bit of knocking about he’d be ready to go again.  Lifted up from a past darker than few have seen and fewer would think to ask about.”  He stopped talking.  Dru looked up from the rifle she was working on to see a mournful look in the first mate’s eyes.  “But no matter the polish, he couldn’t get rid of the scars.”

Still holding the rifle, she reached out a hand to his shoulder, “We’ll find him, Heinrich.  I promise you.”

He nodded.  “I know,” he said with a sharp sniff, “I know.  Mind if I take one of those?  Only one I’ve ever had was left on the Adolphus.”

She gave the armory a quick once over.  “Here,” she said, handing him a double barreled pistol, “That’s a good one.  He’s a little thing, but he’s faithful and shoots true.” She placed it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it.  “Ships aren’t the only things with personalities.  I think you’ll get along fine.”

“You’re a good woman, Dru.”

She let go of his hand and took a step back, “Not by half.”

He turned her back toward him, kissed her forehead gently, and said, “This ship is a grand thing, and it suits you.  But don’t think I know there isn’t a little part of you that wishes she were the Adolphus.”

“Captain,” crackled the tube by her desk, wrenching them from the stillness, “Captain, shouldn’t be much longer now.  I’ve got her on full burn.  You might want to get up here.”

“Get below, Heinrich.  You’re not much of a shot, and the boys will surely need help with the guns.”

He stepped back and bowed, “Aye, Miss.”

She stuffed her belt with flintlocks, a smaller gun to her boot, and took the long rifle back up.  She called into the tube, “Show them thunder and fire, boys.  Make them pay for it.”  She paused at the door  and whispered, “all of it.”

He awoke to the rattle of medical tools against the nightstand.  He pushed and pulled at the restraints to no avail.  “Please, Sir.  Don’t struggle.  It does nothing but make this whole endeavor quite taxing.”  Her voice was honey and arsenic.  A lump swelled in his throat at the sight of a syringe and the swirling grey liquid she pulled from one of the vials.

He tried once more to free himself, but there was no use.  Even with all his weight against them, the straps would snap him back to the bed.  She grabbed his arm and he began to flail madly.  He grunted, an animal backed against a cliff.  Fire burst through his veins as she jammed the needle into his arm, replaced by a deathly cold.  He heard the woman’s voice trail off.  It sounded miles away.  “They always struggle at first.  Won’t be long.”

His eyes were open, but the world went black.

***

He heard her footsteps before the door opened.  The clinking of metal and glass echoed in his head.  His arms batted at the air, but no longer held the power to push against the restraints.  He felt like raw stone.   Every movement was heavy.  His joints ground together.  “Come on now.  Give us a vein.”  Honey and arsenic.  “I will say one thing about your outbursts.  They certainly made this part easier.  Now you just lie there, and I can’t even find a, wait,” she tapped at his arm with a gloved hand, “there we are.”  His body seized.  His teeth clenched.  He fought against the coming darkness, but it came on him like a winter blanket.

***

He woke to find himself sitting upright in a chair.  He saw no restraints of any kind but couldn’t move.  An odd fellow with befuddling hair and a long coat fiddled with the bed linens.  “Oh.  You’re up.  Right, not to worry.  I’ll have these things straightened up before long.”  Bosch looked to the door and the familiar fire ran through his veins.  “Easy does it, my friend,” the stranger said, “The stuff they have flowing through you is rendering it quite impossible for you to do much of anything I’m afraid.  Nasty business.  Don’t worry.  I’m working on a plan to get everyone out of here.”

Everyone, he thought, how many others are they doing this to?

“There we are.  Fresh linens for you.  You take a nice bit of rest and I’ll have us out of here in no time.  See, they have no idea what they were dealing with when they took me in.  I’m the Sentinel, you see.  I’m in a bit of a bind right now since they took, well, no need to bother you with that.  The important bit is that they didn’t take this.”  He produced an odd looking device from his breast pocket.  It looked like little more than a metal rod with a light at the end of it.  It made an awful noise.  He hoisted the captain up from the chair, barely making it back to the bed.  “My you are a big fella aren’t you?  Just sit tight.  Any time now.  You’ll see.”

He left Bosch sprawled out on the bed, unable to set himself right.  The coat had covered the man’s arms, but he could only assume that it covered the same spider black lines that were beginning to crawl their way across his.  Is this it, then?  Am I going to go as mad as that fellow?  He wept silently.  His tears soaked the pillow, but he could not feel them.

“Well, Sir, you are in a bit of a state, aren’t you?”  He had not heard her come in.  The familiar tray was missing.  She righted him on the bed, and he took note of her for the first time.  She was of solid stock.  Her blonde hair was braided in the style women in the old country used to wear.  She wore a white hospital uniform that clung to her at sharp angles.  “That’s better.  We wouldn’t want him to see you out of sorts.  He’ll be in momentarily to speak with you.”

Then she produced another syringe.  While he couldn’t see clearly to tell what was inside, he was certain its contents were different than the previous injections.  He watched the needle slip into his arm. He sucked in air as if he had just emerged from a drowning pool.  “That’s fine Miss Stoltz.  I will take it from here.”  The man came to the bedside, flashing a light in the captain’s eyes.  “Yes.  You seem to be responding well to the treatments.  Can you speak yet?”

It had been days since he had been able to say a word.  He brought his hand to his cheek to massage his throbbing jaw, only to be shocked at the ease which he moved.  “You should be returning to some manner of functionality soon.  If not, then I will have Miss Stoltz give you another injection in a bit.  I would like you to try and answer some simple questions I have for you.  They may seem a bit inane, but I would insist that you answer them seriously, as this has a direct effect on our studies.  Will you kindly state your name for me, please?”

He said nothing.  He leaned against the wall, slowly pulling himself upright.

“What is your name?” repeated the man.

He could see the door.  The only thing between him and freedom was the wispy sprig of a man who sat with his clipboard. 

“I will ask you one final time.  What is your name?”

He clenched his hand tight.  It was stiff and slow, but functioning.  He wondered if it would be enough to propel him at him.  Bosch was two or even three times the size of him.  It would not take much.

The man walked to the door.  His back was toward him.  “Miss Stoltz, make a note that the patient in room five will require a double dose in the coming week.  Physical effects are present, however the desired effect is.”

His voice trailed off as he left the room.  He pulled against the bed sheets until he was seated at the edge of the bed.  Every inch of his movement sapped his resolve. He would have to escape.  Though his head was clouded with whatever drug they had sent through him, he tried to stand.  He made it a few steps before his legs began to buckle, and by the time he had gotten to the door, vertigo took him.  He fell into the arms of a thick, blonde woman who spoke with a voice like honey and arsenic, “Now that’s no way to behave.  Let’s get you back in bed.”

SJ stared at the ceiling.  He could hear Hodgepodge shifting his way about the shop.  The normal ambience of the city was missing, leaving an unbearable stillness.  It had only been a few days of the downtown embargo.  The market had been emptied; save for a few uptown servants milling about like lost puppies, though even that did not last.   People stayed inside and waited.  The Points held its breath and waited.

He tried to force himself to sleep, but it ran from him.  Replaced with thoughts of Geoffrey’s face contorting with rage.  It was like art.  Within days they would see Tulane, whimpering back to the square with some new edict.  Then again, would he even let the politician live?  SJ would not put it against him to have the poor fellow killed for such insubordinate failure.  Perhaps he would even come for the tinker himself.  That was wishful thinking.  He would not muddy his hands with something like that.  “Don’t you worry, Geoffrey.  You will have your day.  You will pay for Lucy, and for the Points, and for every injustice you have ever cast upon this city.”

“My my.  Haven’t you become the conquering hero?”

SJ sat up at the sound of the mechanical man’s voice.  “What are you doing up here, Pudge?”

“I’m not welcome?  I could leave.”

“It’s not that.  You’ve just, well, never come up here since I made you.”

Hogepodge looked around, “Well this is hardly high society living, SJ.  There’s never been any reason for me to come up here.  But it’s just so terminally boring in the shop now.  The streets are dead.  It’s downright creepy.  I heard you rustling about up here, so I figured I would see if you were up.  So here we are.”

It had been a few years now since the automaton first displayed some level of cognizance.  There were plenty of moments where SJ saw more of the spark of life within him, but he had always Hodgepodge.   In the darkness of the room, talking to shadows, he could hardly tell he was a machine at all.  Only the soft yellow glow from his eyes gave him away.  “Pudge, what is it like to be turned off?”

“What an odd sort of a question.  What brought this on?”

“It’s been a sort of nagging thing at the back of my mind.”

Hodgepodge tapped his chin for a moment.  “It’s hard to explain, I imagine, seeing as I have nothing to compare it to.”

“Give it a shot.  I’ve never known you to be short on words.”

“Well, I assume it’s much like you people falling asleep.  Everything goes dark, and then not much happens until you do your bit of business and the lights come back on.”

It was an interesting thought.  “Guess that means you won’t ever be up at all manner of the night when you don’t want to.”

“True.  But I never bought into this night time habit you people indulge in.  Biology is such a silly thing.”  He looked out vacantly, as if he was piecing together the various parts of anatomy.  With a vigorous shake of his head he continued.  “No, thank you.  I’ll keep things the way they are.”

There was a long silence.  The conversation had gone in a much more awkward track than he’d imagined, but the same itch appeared in the back of his mind.  Feeling the conversation could not become more uncomfortable, he pressed on, “What if I wasn’t there to turn you back on?”

His eyes flickered a bit.  “Samuel James Thatch, when did you get so philosophically minded?”

“A lot’s happened lately.  I can only shut so much of it out with mathematics and hammered brass.  Forgive me if my thoughts have been infected with a bit of thoughtfulness.  What would you do if I was not here to maintain your systems?”

Another long pause, made fuller with the outside stillness, hung about them.  The clicking and hissing of his inner workings was the only sound.  He started to speak a few times, but could never form the words, until finally, “I’m not sure what I’ll do.  Hadn’t thought of it.  I suppose, well, I suppose I’d simply stop functioning after a time.”  As the last words tumbled from his mouth, the silence began to invade, more oppressive than before.  “I suppose I’ll make a lovely planter, or perhaps I’d be made into a birdbath,” Hodgepodge said, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s not funny, Pudge.”

“Well of course it isn’t,” he retorted with a sharp tone; sharper, even, than his usual.  “one does not ask one’s friend ‘what would you do if I died?’ and then dally off to the Clover for a beer and a song.  No, sir.  I have not experienced much of it, but I have learned quite well that death is a miserable experience and I should hope to stay as far away from it and all of its obnoxious little aggregates as possible.”

He put his hand on his shoulder.  “I miss her too, Pudge.”

“Let’s talk of something else, shall we?”

He didn’t have anything else to say.  The lights outside had gone out in the wind.  The lamplighters wouldn’t bother to come out again.  SJ thought about the gas lights Uptown.  Just a few blocks from where they sat was a world of possibilities.  Unbound by the chains of existence, he wondered what they thought about all that was happening.  Were all of them a mass of monsters or self-obsessed dandies?  Was there someone there that thought about them at all?  Was there someone in the parlors of Uptown espousing the rights of the lower class?  If there was, he thought, they needed to speak a bit louder.

The curtain of silence was ripped away in an instant as he heard a scream coming from the square.  The occasional shout at night was not uncommon.  It was never wise to walk the streets alone.  This was different.  There was an intensity to it that shook them both.   They ran to the square and found a young woman standing in the road.  It was Sara.  The Madam had wrapped a jacket around her shoulders and was trying to get her back to the bar, but her eyes were locked and wide.  Her body was stiff.  SJ followed her gaze and the bile began to pool in his throat.  Will came up beside him.  “What the hell is going on, SJ?  I thought the world was ending out here with all that noise.”

Hodgepodge was the one that responded.  “I think it has.”

She wore a flowing white bed gown that flapped in the wind.  A bit of wire hung about her head, fashioned into a sickening halo.  The words “Angel of Hope” scrawled out above her.  Her skin, once alabaster perfection, was mottled with dark bruises and cigarette burns.  Her face was a mask of welts and fear.

SJ fell on his knees, unable to take his eyes away.  How lovely she had been.  How refined without pretense.  Hanging there, crucified against the ruined tower, she had been made a cruel farce, a message that the Points and all of Downtown were not fit toys not fit to play the games of high society.

“Bloody hell,” Will said, “Who?”  He swallowed the rest of the question.

“Her name’s Lily,” SJ croaked.  “Lily Swanson.”

The Valkyrie sailed above a sea of green.  The unbroken canopy below them crested and fell, but refused to give up any of its secrets.  The captain poured over charts and figures.  She was uneasy around the crisp paper, and it showed.  She longed for the well worn, well marked maps of the Adolphus.  Bodger’s shack would be easy to find if she had them, and she would have Heinrich to help her distinguish the faint landmarks that lead the way.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss,” the first mate said with a cough, “but the men are beginning to ask why we’re flying so far North.  Heaven knows I’m not the one to tell you your business or nothing, but it might be a good idea if you let ‘em know at least a little something.”

“We’re searching for a needle in a haystack, Mr. Giles.  If you think that will give them any sort of help, then go right ahead.  If not, then get to the bow and search for anything that isn’t a damn tree.”

“Yes, Miss.”

As Giles left, a shout muscled its way through the door.  “Smoke.  Smoke to starboard side.”

Dru pushed the first mate aside and ran to meet the man yelling, “What is it?  Where?”

“Smoke, Captain, black as sin.  It’s coming from a clearing sure enough, but can’t see anything else through the cloud.”

Dru took the spyglass from him and looked toward the plume.  “Mr. Giles?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Take us toward the smoke.  Find a place close enough without giving away our position.  Scrape the trees if you have to.  If whoever set that fire sees us first, it’s your ass.”

“Certainly, Miss.”

The trees were too thick to make a proper landing, but Giles had found a patch thin enough to lower down a landing party.  Dru lead them.  They had not traveled far before she saw the first of the fires.  The ground had been scorched to black ash.  Ancient trees still smoldered, but had not been allowed to burn.  This was no natural fire.  Someone had put down the flames after the business was done, as if to cover their approach.

Debris littered the ground around them.  While she had never been one for scientific or mechanical pursuits, she had always been observant.  As she turned pieces over in her hand, they began to take shape in her memory.  She let them rattle about in her mind, brushing off tarnish the smoke left behind.  She signaled for the men to gather around her.  Huddled behind the largest hunk of refuse, she spoke in a harsh whisper, “Eyes open, boys.  We’ve made it.  This is the spot I’ve been looking for.”

“How do you know, Captain?”

“Because this pile of scrap here used to be part of the defenses.  I don’t remember what he used to call it, but I saw the thing call down a world of hurt on anyone stupid enough to cross into it.  Watch yourselves and follow me.”

Dru found several sets of heavily booted footprints, making them easy to track.  She could smell the acrid smell of burning grease, could hear the fires crackle and snap.  However, she was not prepared for the sight of the clearing.  Canyon like craters littered the field.  Ravens tore at the flesh of bodies left baking in the sun.  “What in seven hells?”

“Captain?  Captain,” the voice insisted, “Captain, what should we do?”

She kicked the body in front of her.  It rolled over to reveal a mask that stole the breath from her chest.  She could still smell the electricity as it hummed its way through the wiring at the base of the neck.  Her eyes went wide.  Beads of sweat began to form on her brow, though she would not let the men see.  “Spread out.  Find anybody left alive.  Anyone looks like this fellow here,” she stepped on the corpse, “is to be killed on sight.  No quarter.  Anyone else, you find me.”

The men darted from the woods and began inspecting the dead.  Dru walked the path amidst the chaos of it all.  Sparingly, she would hear a shot fired when the boys came across a trooper still alive, but most of the damage had already be done.  She tried to figure out how long ago the battle had taken place.  An hour?  Perhaps two?  When she reached the shack, she found that it had stopped burning ages ago.  What was it that was causing all of that smoke?

“Captain, I think you should see this.”

She turned towards him and saw the flames.  The smoke was thicker, causing her eyes to water unmercifully, but the wind shifted to reveal its source.  It felt like a punch to the gut.  She staggered backwards, tripping over a dead trooper’s gun.  The men helped her back to her feet, but were thrown down themselves as she climbed over them and ran headlong into the fire.

The Adolphus lay cracked open like a hen’s egg, fires roaring across the length and breadth of him.  She began ripping loose and burnt pieces of board away from the frame.  She screamed, “Heinrich?  Bosch?  Anybody?!  Damn you, somebody answer me!”

“Captain, over here.”

She rounded the corner of the wreckage and saw him, kneeling glassy eyed before it as if he were weeping over a beloved brother.  “Heinrich!”  She charged the first mate.  She looked into his eyes, but they refused to leave the ship.  “Heinrich, are you alright?  What happened?  Where’s Bosch?”

“Gone.  They’re all gone.”

“What happened, Heinrich?  You’re not making any sense.”

“They kept coming.  We fought off a platoon’s worth of the bastards, but they just kept coming.  Bodger,” he said, finally breaking his gaze, the name calling him back to some semblance of reality, “Oh, God, Dru.  They were on top of us.  Bodger didn’t want them to get their hands on any of his machines.  He shoved me in this bunker.  I tried to get out, but he’d locked me in.  They came through the door.  They all had their guns pointed at him.  He just laughed.  Even inside the bunker I could hear it.  Then he pushed a button and the world went dark.  I woke up out here, don’t ask me how.  They got the Captain. Sam.  Miss Montrose.  Stanton.  God only knows where Stanton is right now.”

“Closer than you think, Heinrich.”  Stanton appeared from thin air.  “They’re not far.  If we hurry, we can probably catch them.”

Dru stood to meet the soldier.  “How could you know that?”

He strapped his rifle to his back, and said, “Captain Bosch knew that there was always a chance that the Society might follow us up here.  From what Valentina told us, they’re not much for wildcards.  He sent me out into the woods to check for landing parties and keep an eye on the shack.”

“Well looks like you did a fine job of it.”

“I was on the other side of the clearing checking out some strange wildlife movements that could have been caused by a raiding party.  Where were you?”

Dru’s fist slammed hard against his cheek, knocking the soldier to the ground.  He jumped to his feet and landed a shot of his own.  The two were grappling like back alley brawlers.  “My ship was taken.  I needed to take it back.”

“That’s right.  Your ship.  You’ve never been a true member of this crew.  We’ve always been just a curiosity.”

“I was on this ship before you were even a thought.  Don’t tell me I don’t care about it.”

Eventually two of Drusilla’s boys pulled them apart, both still snarling like dogs at the other.  “Shut your mouths, both of you,” Heinrich said, “the Adolphus is burning, our fellow crewmen are missing, and you two are behaving like children.  Stop being mad at yourselves and start figuring out what the hell we’re going to do about this.”

Dru refused to speak.  Heinrich had the gist of it.  Had she not been taken by getting the Valkyrie back, the Adolphus might still be there.  It was Stanton, however, that spoke first.  His voice was not much more than a gruff whisper, “They took the Captain away.  I couldn’t hear anything about where they were taking him.  Valentina and Sam were taken by a crew headed south towards Raleigh.  I know people there, and I’m pretty sure I can find them.  Might even be able to catch them before they get there.”

Dru picked up Heinrich and put his arm over her shoulder.  She looked to one of her boys, “Send up a flare and get Giles down here with my boat.  We’ve got to save Sam and Valentina.”

“What about the Captain?” Stanton asked.

“Bosch will just have to take care of himself for now.”

***

Bosch awoke feeling like a train had run over him.  The room was simple and foreign.

“Hello, Captain.  Glad to see you are well.”  The voice was unfamiliar.  He tried to lift himself up, but found his arms strapped down to the bed.  He tugged against them, but could barely shift his body. “Yes.  Sorry about that.  Didn’t want you causing any trouble now.”

“Who are you?  Where in God’s name am I?  Where is my crew?”

“Such questions.  They will be answered soon enough.  For now, just rest.  I have big plans for you, Captain Bosch.  You are going to help me obtain something very important.”

“Yeah, and what makes you say that?”

“Because, my dear Captain,” he said, his voice becoming more familiar, “It will go badly for Mister Thatch and the others if you do not.”

“You’re that butler.  The one that killed Mayweather.”

“You have me mistaken.”  He stood over Bosch, a cudgel in his hand,   “I am a gentleman.”

She etched another mark on the wall.  By her count, it had been almost a week since they had taken little Beegee away to whatever circle of hell lived beneath them.  Images fought for space inside her memory.  The scared girl sitting in the corner, her head in her lap, rocking back and forth.  The confused, glassy-eyed doll starring at the wall because her body tried to remind itself that it was still human. Red stained teeth in the candlelight.  “What are they doin’ to you, Little One?  Where has he got you?”

The door creaked open and Ellie came through.  Her eyes darted to every corner of the room.   “Miss Petunia.  I got what you asked me for.  Anything that’ll fit in a sack and’ll keep for days.”

“Thank you, Ellie.  You’ve helped a great deal, and I know you’ll get in a world of trouble if you were caught.  I gotta ask though,” she paused, “Have you heard anything about Beegee?”

“No, Ma’am.  Not a peep or shadow.  I know they took her deep, but I don’t know anything past that.  They don’t let me go down any lower than the floor beneath us.  Even then, that’s just for bringing the master’s scientists their lunches.”  Petunia could not hide the lines hard cut into her face tempered by fear and frustration.  The serving girl’s eyes hit the floor.  Her voice trailed as she spoke, “I’m sorry, Miss.  I tried, I swear.”

Why lie to me, Girl? she thought, This food’ll rot before you let me out of here.  You’re dancing with the Devil himself.  What he offer you to keep quiet?  She placed the tray beside her and left without another word.  Petunia noticed red, angry lines across her shoulders as she gingerly adjusted her blouse.  Not favors. Pain.  Did he find out?  No.  She knew that couldn’t be true.  If Geoffrey knew that Ellie was assisting them, the punishment would have been far more than a few lashes.  Moon might have returned.  Even with an injury, the big ox had it in him.  The more she thought of the man Beegee called ‘the monster’, her shoulders dropped.  Ellie was her way out, but they bolted that door shut at the end of a whip.

All the fear, frustration, pain, and hate roared through her.  It balled into her fists and slammed against the wall.  She beat her knuckles bloody against the wall, leaving two mournful eyes against the wood.  She began to scream, and she believed she could hear Ellie at the door.  There was a distant sound of shouting on the fuzzy edge of things.  Her fists collided like bombs, her fingers like grapeshot, tearing against the walls to leave bare wood.  But as the moment passed, the fire passing out of her, she realized that the deep pounding that resonated through the walls were tied to something other than her.  Her eyes focused on the returning reality.  There were explosions, but they were not coming from the laboratory.  She listened against the wall.  Outside? And there’s crying.  This isn’t good.

She grabbed a shard of the old bed frame.  The door handle shuddered.  Her heart thumped along, fit to bursting as the person in the hall slammed his shoulder into the door.  Then she heard it.  “Momma?  Momma you in there?”

“Percy?  Oh, Lord, Boy, I’ve never been so thankful to hear your voice.”

“Get back, Momma.  This is gonna be big.”

She moved towards the farthest corner just as the door popped off its hinges.  Percy came through and hugged her.  Then he noticed the wooden spike in her hand.  “I knew they  couldn’t get you.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What about Moon?  He’s trouble wrapped in piss and steel.”

“We got it, Momma.  Now let’s go.  We drugged that lurker almost an hour ago.  We’ll be in a world of hurt if we ain’t gone by  the time he gets up.”

He grabbed her wrist and tugged her down  the hall.  Broken glass and loose papers littered the floor.  There wasn’t much pride in a dust up like this.   A Railwayman’s job was to be more like a shadow than a fire, and an experienced rail-runner could go his entire life without being part of one.  Dust ups left too many tracks to cover.  Percy ran the Circus.  He was rail-runner and track setter for the most important piece of business the Railroad had.  He was better than thuggery.  What had spooked him so?

Another man joined them.  He was young, but was definitely a railwayman.  “Percy, we ain’t making a dent in that lift door.  There’s no way to get below.  The powder ain’t even getting through.”

Her eyes went wide.  ”Oh, Lord.  BeeGee.  Percy, we gotta get down to the where they were workin’ on that girl.  What if there are more of ‘em?

“Moma, if we don’t get going soon the whole place is gonna be a wash in fire and guards.  We gotta let it go.”

“She’s a little girl, Percy.  She’s probably scared and alone.  She needs me.  What if there are more of them down there?”  She pulled against his grip, tugging the boy towards the lift.  “Let me try somethin’.  Maybe I can get it working.”

“No, Momma.  We gotta go.”

“Don’t you sass me, young man.  Think just because you in charge a’ some boys doesn’t make you better than me. “

“We’ve lost men here.   We could lose more if we diddle around here.  We have to go.”

Zeke appeared, the boys from the railroad and assorted servant s ran like chickens.  “I set the powder, Percy.  We don’t have long.”

She tried to free herself agan, but, joined by Zeke, there was no way.  They took her out of the building where the rest of their train sat, guns trained on the house.  She did not need to turn to know what happened next.  The house became a ball of flame.  The attack on Geoffrey’s estate was more than a dust up.  This was a letter signed in tears.

Hours later, the flames were still burning.  Petunia wept openly, rocking back and forth with her head in her lap.  The little girl.  The Monster.  The Devil.  Had any of them made it out?  Would there be anything left of them to tell once the fires had taken their due?  She forced herself to look up to see the skies lit with stars.  The wind blew a piece of hair in front of her face.  A bloodhound howled its mourning song.  Her face glowed red as teeth in candlelight, but she was free.

“Is somebody gonna tell me why we need to listen to this coopered boy?  O’Malley’s gonna come down on us with all ‘is dogs.  We should be talkin’ to Charlie Barker’s boys, the Rovers, or,” the gruff fellow thought a moment, “Even the wee ones from the Family’d be better than this.”

“Shut your mouth, Steven.  Getting yourself boiled up isn’t gonna solve anything.”

Steven stood from the table, shouting loud enough to shake the rafters of the orphanage, “It sure as hell beats listening to this horse’s ass talk about givin’ ‘em what they want.”

“Language, Steven.”

He averted his eyes as if he were one of the children.  ”Sorry, Father, but it’s just.”

SJ stood from his place.  ”I understand your concerns, Steven.  To be frank, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.  It only seems fair that you’d have some misgivings.  But let me be quite clear about this — I am done letting Uptown treat us like filth.”  He stepped closer to the frothing dock worker  His voice rose.  ”I am done with seeing my city fall down around me in,” he did the math in his head, “not even a full year.”  He stepped only inches away from Steven’s face, shouting himself now.  ”And I am most certainly done seeing people get hurt.  Now sit down and shut up.”

Surprising even to the tinker, the big man returned to the table without another word.  ”Alright then.  I’m listening.  Tell me what you need.  I ain’t makin’ any promises, but if ye start speakin’ sweet, you’ll get my boys.”

SJ bowed.  ”I can’t ask anything more for you.”  He returned to his seat, drumming his hands on the table.  ”Now that’s settled, are we all here then?”

“Father Eugene O’Rourke, representin’ the Mission an’ all those therein.”  The father raised his hands and the bulk of those in the hall lifted their voices as if to cheer him on.  SJ had barely noticed them before that moment.

A clever man could build an army out of this, he said to himself.  That’s a thought — but not a very good one.

“Bill Stackhouse, representing market square,” the next voice chimed in.

Steven spoke after him, more sheepish than before, “Steven Burroughs, representin’ the int’rests a’ the docks and her ships.”

“Lily Swanson,” spoke the lyrical voice so foreign to the company at hand, “I am here representing her ladyship, Madam Leviathan, and to speak a bit of civility into this rabble.”

He choked a bit.  ”Yes, Miss Swanson.  We are happy the Clover has blessed us with your presence.”

“Hodgepodge Von Clockverk, and I am represnenting — well, me, I suppose.”  He sat straight in his chair, looking as proud as a fine china teapot.

“Yes, well,” SJ fidgeted, “and in case there is any question — I am Samuel James Thatch.  Unless I miss my guess, I’m the one that might get us out of here without anymore bloodshed.”

“We know tha’, SJ.  We’re all just a bit confused.”  Father O’Rourke’s brow showed deep, worrisome lines.  ”How exactly do ye suppose we fight Uptown?”

“I say we don’t fight at all.”  The table and its audience churned up immediately.  He raised his hands to quiet them again. “Do not get me wrong Gentlemen,”  Lily coughed noticeably, “and Lady,”  next it was Hodgepodge’s turn to cough.  He ignored him, but that did little to dissuade his efforts.  The cacophonous clanking scratched at his mind.  ”and Pudge.  I have no desire to simply roll over and die either.”

“Only a couple things O’Malley listens to.  That’s clubs and barkers.  He’s got both of ‘em on his side.”

“This is true,” SJ conceded.  ”This is why fighting them would be useless.  They have the men, the guns, and veritably everything in grander quantities we could hope to procure.  So we are left to ask ourselves one question.”

“How quickly we can book passage on an airship bound for the Orient?” Chirped Hodgepodge.

He gritted his teeth.  ”It’s not much different than anything else really.  Mr. Stackhouse, you run the markets.  I imagine you have butchers there?  Maybe even some that hunt after game in the right seasons?”

“There are a few.  I’m one of them actually.”

“Splendid.  You would be the one to ask then.  When you butcher a cow, what do you do?”

His face flushed, “I, well, I don’t believe it’s proper to say with the lady present.”

Lily scoffed, “Easy, Bill.  You know as well  as I that I’ve seen too much to get squeamish over something like that.”

“Well then,” he said, turning his attentions back to SJ, “You bleed it.  If you don’t, the meat goes bad.”

SJ slammed his hands down on the table, “Precisely, Sir.  That is precisely the allusion I was looking for.  If we go hacking and slashing about Uptown, we’ve nothing to gain.  Even if we were to win, we’d be left with a rotten, unusable victory.  But if we bleed them properly, we’ll eat like kings for months.”

“A grizzly analogy.  Can we please start discussing plans that do not conjure up images of cannibalism?”

“Oh, Pudge, don’t you see it?  If there’s one thing I learned from Mayweather it’s this.  We’ve always thought we needed Uptown to help us, but we’ve got it reversed.  We get along fine without them.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far.  You look up recently?”  The lines in the priest’s forehead grew darker.

He gave him a nod.  ”Yes, true.  Things are not always the way we would like them, but let me ask you a different question, Father.  Have you ever had a day when a child under your care has not had food?”

“We’ve had lean days, same as anyone.”

“Not the question I asked, Father.  Has there been a time your children have not eaten?”

He shook his head.  ”We’ve always found a way.  Even if we had to go down to hard bread and milk from Grady’s farm, a good churchgoing man.”

“That is because we know how to survive, and when we don’t know how, we try everything until we make it work.  Miss Swanson, you have the look of a lady who takes care of the Clover’s more discrete customers.  Am I wrong?”

She plucked a tobacco pouch from a pocket in her jacket, rolling herself a cigarette.  ”You would not be wrong.  I wasn’t given this job for my pretty face you know?”

“How would your customers react if they were suddenly cut of from your,” he swallowed down the awkwardness in his throat, “services.”

She gave a wicked smile, holding out her finished cigarette for at least three men to light.  ”My dear boy, I think they might just collapse.”

“Mr. Stackhouse, Sir.  If the servants of Uptown were suddenly unable to purchase foodstuffs, clothing, or fineries, what would their life reduce to?”

“Well, to put it plainly, SJ, the bastards’d be in a world of shit.”  He then lowered his eyes in direction of the priest, “Sorry, Father, but it’s true.”

“And, Steven, Would you enlighten us as to what would happen to their precious bank accounts if their goods could not ship to Old World?”

“God damn it.  I see it, kid.  We’ll bleed ‘em dry!”

“Gentlemen, Lady, and Hodgepodge — we’re about to show Uptown what it means to feel pain.”  The room exploded with cheers.  Men rushed towards him to shake his hand.  But his mind was elsewhere.  Run, you bastard.  I’ll find you.  And when I do, I will send you to whatever corner of Hell’s been set for you.

She dug another line into the wall beside her bed.  It had been three weeks in the cell, or at least that’s how long she believed it was.  Too many distractions.  Too many mornings wrapped in darkness and nights where the sun was shining.  Making her marks was more about the routine than keeping time.  The dreamcatcher still rested in the tiny window above them.  It was the last, thin-stretched hope of tasting freedom.  It wasn’t much, but it was there.

“There you go then, back in with your friend.”  She didn’t know where Moon was taking her, but the strange little girl had been going through her own version of routine.  They would take her when the sun was up, and return her when it set.  It was routine.  It was rhythm.  It was existence boiled down and reduced to slivers.  The brute shoved her into the room, and she lunged to slash him with her long fingernails.  She watched him make mocking gestures on the other side of the door.  ”I swear there won’t be enough of that boy for skinnin’ when I’m done with him.”  She turned her attentions to the girl.  ”They didn’t get to you, did they, Beegee?”

She shook violently for a moment before she settled in.  ”No.  Bees were buzzing, busy busy, for a while.  But didn’t take me.  Big bad man left.  The monster can’t control the bees, and the others are slow.”

“Good girl.  Don’t let ‘em take ya now.  They can’t win.  You’re too strong.  Let the bees buzz for a bit, as long as you still the one in charge.”  No matter how she had tried, her cell mate would not say her name.  She just growled and muttered about bees.  After a few days, she started calling her Beegee, for beast girl.  The youngling seemed to take to it, so it simply stuck.  ”Nobody can hold us down.”

“Monster can.  Monster has the sparkle sticks.  Sparkle sticks hurt.”  Beegee rubbed her arms.  Dark yellow purple bruises covered them.  ”But I got Monster this time.  Made him drop his sparkle sticks.”

“How’d you do that then?”

She would not look up at the nursemaid.  Beegee had a look about her she had seen a thousand times before.  Children have a way about them when they know they have been caught in a terrible thing.  ”Nothing.”

“Come on, Beegee.  What did you do?”  She breathed heavy, her shoulders bouncing.  Heaving with the weight of what she’d done.  Petunia brushed away the hair from her face, and she became painfully aware that Beegee was no little girl.  Not anymore.  Her lips were unnaturally red, and when her mouth opened — it was Petunia’s turn to breath heavy.  Her had raised to her own mouth, trying to force the air back into her lungs.  ”Oh, what did you do?”

Her sharpened teeth glowed a deep, eerie red, thick and wet in the candlelight.  ”Made him drop the sparkle sticks.  Bees told me how.”

The tension was broken as the door opened to the serving girl’s voice.  ”Alright, Ladies, I’ve come with a bit of supper for you.”  She must have seen the girl’s state, dropping her tray hard against the floor.  ”Christ in heaven.”  Her fingers shook wild as she made a cross against her.

“It’s alright.  Beegee’s harmless.”

“NOT HARMLESS!”  The girl shouted with a force closer to screaming.

“No, no, love.  I know.”  She made her way softly to where Ellie stood, trembling.  ”Doesn’t need saying that it would be unwise to do something that would upset our little miss here.  But she’s been with me in this cell quite a while now, and she’s never laid a hand on me.  Speak gentle, don’t move quick, and she’ll be fine.  More important, so will you.”

“Right,” she said, still visibly shaken, “I’ve been able to get you some more goodies than normal today.  Seems his lordship’s out on one of his trips, and Moon was.”  She swallowed hard as her eyes fell once again on the girl licking the stains on her hands, “Moon was taken to see the surgeon.”

“Well that’s perfect.  You can get us the keys.  You can get us out of here.”

“No, I can’t, I’m afraid.  Moon never lets the keys go.  They’re still on him, even if he ain’t here.  Nothing for it.  I could let you go, but them irons, well you’re stuck with them I’m afraid.  Twice tough stuff, too.  You’d be hard pressed to find a tinker or smith that could snap ‘em.  Bad business, really.”

She was right, of course.  Ellie had spent weeks sneaking in food and quick bits of hope, but they were just bits, after all.  There wasn’t anything that’d stick to a person.  She gave another look to the window.  ”Ellie, Moon’ll be gone for a while, right?”

“Not sure, but it seems likely.  He screamed like a pig when it bit him.”  Beegee snarled at the word ‘it’.

“That’s cuz Beegee knows how to hit the soft bits.  A lady’s gotta defend herself these days.”

“It’s the bees.  Buzz, buzz.”

“Well it seems to me you can do a world of good for all of us then.  See, I know me a tinker that I’m sure could snap these chains like beans fresh from the fields.  But even if we were to get out, we’d need help to get to where we were going.”

Her head shook violently, “No.  I can’t do it.  I can’t let you go.  They’d kill me six ways to Sunday they would.”

“I’m not asking you to come with us, Ellie.  Just need you to get out a message to someone.”  She nodded.  ”I need you to head to Manhattan.  There’s a couple people you need to try and find for me.  Any one of ‘em’s good news.  First, try and find yourself a big bear of a man.  He’d scare you have to death to look at ‘em, but he’s a good man.  His name’s Bosch.  If ya can’t find him, go to a shop called the Spark and Whistle.  There you’ll find a little sprig of a man, or a man made of metal.  Either a’ them could hear it too.  Do you hear me, Ellie?”

“Find a man named Bosch, or the Spark and Whistle.”

“Tell them I need help, and point the way.  They’ll be able to get me out of here.  Now go.  Get before Moon or the bastard comes back.”  Ellie turned to leave, but a thought tugged at the back of Petunia’s mind.  ”Wait.”  What if they weren’t there?  She hadn’t been able to get in touch with them.  She’d promised SJ she’d send word in a day.  Would they be off looking God only knows where for her?  Would Ellie even be able to find them.  ”If you can’t find either of them, there’s one last place to go.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to find my son.”

He rolled the contraption around in his hand, fumbling at delicacy in the likelihood that most things in Bodger’s shack could cause a person great physical harm if handled improperly.  For that matter, there were even more that would cause such damage were one to operate it with skill and precision.  For some reason, however, he marveled at the ball of copper and glass as it danced about in his fingers.  There were odd dials, and what appeared to be a lens of some kind.  But what caused him both the mystery was a button with the words “Push Me” scrawled beneath in Bodger’s shaky script.  Was it a kinetiscope?  An engine?  A bomb?  He gulped at the last thought.

“Hey, Captain?”

The mystery sphere jumped from his hands with the sound of his first mate’s voice.  His hands desperately grasped the open air, failing to find purchase.  He lunged, placing himself between the object and the ground.  The ball lightly bounced on his belly and rested peacefully.  He stood, dusting himself off with his free hand while the other clutched the ball.

“Oh,” Heinrich said sheepishly, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Captain.  I just had a question strike me out a’ the air, and it was eating at me.”

Bosch gave him a glance that held hellfire tempered by understanding, “No harm done, Heinrich.  None this time anyway.  You should know better than to sneak up a man with his hands on one of Bodger’s machines.  You could have gotten us all killed.”

“With that?  Not hardly.”  He jumped again.  He had not even heard a whisper as the inventor sidled up beside him to take the ball from his hand.  “You’d really have to do something special to blow us up with this.”  He pushed the button and small legs appeared from its underside.  He placed it on the table and set it walking about, saying ‘Destroy all humans.’  Bodger giggled.  “Grown man scared of a child’s toy.  Silly.  Now THIS,” he said, producing another sphere, “this one would blow us all to hell and back twice over.”  He tossed it playfully.

Bosch took a breath, his eyes rising and falling with the device.  Seeing his captain’s obvious discomfort, Heinrich spoke softly, “Thanks, Bodger.  We’ll be sure to keep eyes on it.”

He caught it sharply from the air.  “Good boy.  Best keep it that way.”  He placed the second ball back on a shelf before disappearing again to the other business.

“Captain?”

Bosch shook his head free of Bodger’s madness and swallowed his heart back down to its proper place.  “What what?  Oh, yes.  What is it Heinrich?”

“Well, Sir, you told me why Miss Montrose stayed on the Adolphus, and I can figure why you wanted me and the Baroness to come with.  The thing that escapes me, though, is what happened with Stanton?  Haven’t seen him since we landed.  It’s like he just up and vanished like a ghost or something.”

“Stanton’s on special assignment for me, Heinrich.  That’s all you need to trouble yourself with.”

Heinrich’s eyes fell.  Bosch returned to the business of searching Bodger’s rejects, but was caught off guard.  “Beg your pardon, Captain, but that’s a load of horseshit.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Maneuver?”

“I meant no disrespect, Captain, but you don’t keep secrets.  Not when it comes to us anyway.  You tell me that Stanton’s got business elsewhere, and I trust you know what’s best, but don’t tell me it’s no trouble of mine.  This is my crew as much as yours.”  The first mate’s face softened a bit, and then he stood to attention, “Sir.”

Bosch let out a heavy sigh.  “You make a good point, Heinrich.  I shouldn’t have tried to keep it from you. He’s.”  The captain’s words were cut short by the rattling thump of explosions still a ways off, but far too close for his comfort.  “What was that?”

“Southern mines,” Bodger chimed in, popping up from a hatch at Bosch’s feet wearing a ridiculous looking metal pot on his head.  “I set those two miles from here.  Never can be too careful you know?” He cocked his head, his mouth counting silently.  Another blast shook dust from ceiling.  “They’re getting closer.”  A third blast came quickly.  “What’s that now?  That,” his face contorted again, “That was western bombs.  Gave ‘em a distinct sound, you know.  I was quite proud of the craftsmanship really, you see.”

“Bodger!”

“Yes, well, right then.  Out of the way please.”   The old man sprang up and headed towards a pipe in the center of the room.  He pushed a button beside it, but nothing happened.  He felt around a moment, wrapping it with the palm of his hand, and then a host of mechanisms sprang to life.  Bodger positioned what appeared to be some sort of spy glass in front of him and looked through it, spinning round the thing like it were a maypole.  “Would you look at that, more visitors.”

“What’s going on, Johannes?”  The Baroness stumbled towards them as another blast, much closer that time, shook the ground beneath them.

“We gotta get to the Adolphus, Sam.  Now.”

“No good,” Bodger said, “I can see your ship from here.  There are these fascinating machines all over it.  Like, yes, they’re driven from inside.  Clever design really.”

“Bodger?”

“I never would have thought that you could position that there.  Oh the power it must be able to.”

“How many?”

He sneered, clearly disgusted at the interruption, “Two of the big machines on your ship.  A third is on the ground with that big pig-sticker you got up front through it.  A large number of troops in long coats and strange helmets are making their way toward us.  They’re using some sort of flame gun to detonate my bombs.  I must say, they have the most excellent equipment.  The things I could learn.”

Heinrich braced himself as another blast went off.  “Anything in the skies, Bodge?”

“No airship I can see.”

“What about clouds?  Dark ones, like a thundercloud?”

“Skies are blue far as I can see.”

He nodded, “Good.  No stormer means there can’t be too many of them.  I’m a little worried about those, what’d Val call ‘em?  Golems?”  As soon as he mentioned her name, a dozen tragedies played on his mind’s stage.  “Oh, God.  Bodger, can you see the ship?   Any sign of a woman aboard?”

“Hard to say, really.  Can’t see below, but I’m assuming somebody had to shoot that gun of yours.  They might, wait,” he stopped short, “Wait, I see her now.  They’re dragging her up now.  She’s twitching and unconscious, but otherwise seems okay.”

He pounded the table.  “Damn.  If they take her, they’ll strap her back into one of those things.  Heinrich?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Stick with Bodger.  Use whatever he’s got in here that works and hold this place.  Sam?”

She cocked her pistol, “Lead the way, Johannes.”

He picked up his wrench and headed for the door.  He could see plumes of smoke and bursts of flame through the tree line.  They were still far enough away.  If the two of them were quick and quiet, they might be able to sneak around them.  He motioned to the baroness and they headed off to where the ship was docked.

Other than a few stragglers that were quickly taken care of, they met little resistance.  They eyed the two big beasts lumbering across the decks.  “What do you suppose we should do?”

“Well,” said, pulling out a ball from his vest pocket, “I thought we’d try a little something I found.  When I give the signal, get ready to run like all of hell’s chasing after you.  We’ll have to move in a hurry.”

He crept his way beneath the gangplank, careful to keep in Sam’s line of sight.  He gave her a nod, then tossed the ball up onto the deck and took off.  He could hear the thumping footsteps of the golems as they approached the ball.  There was a beeping sound, followed by a few shouts of alarm, and then “Destroy all humans.”

The two of them climbed over the railing on the opposite side of the ship.  Sam shot any soldier that crossed her path.  Many of the bullets bounced around their shielding, but plenty found their mark.  Bosch headed towards the closest golem.  He jumped on its back, pounding with his wrench as it feverishly tried to shake him.  Finding a small opening in its frame, he shoved the heavy iron home and began to pry open the shielding.  The man driving the metal monster turned his head.  He writhed against the straps holding him to the golem’s mechanisms, fear shown clearly in his eyes.  He could do nothing but watch as Bosch slammed the wrench against his skull.

There was a huge explosion that caught them all off balance.  A volley of concussive blasts came from above them on the hillside.  He looked towards the shack, but he couldn’t see anything.  All that remained was thick black smoke and molten heat.  As he tried to make out what had happened through the chaos, there was a scream opposite him.  A sound bright and terrible filled his ears as Samantha crumpled to the ground in a heap, electricity still crackling from the shock trooper’s gun.

He gave a roar like a wounded bear defending its cubs.  As the captain came within a foot of him, he pulled the trigger.  A mass of blue-white lightning arced and struck Bosch.  His teeth clenched as his entire body tightened.  His knees gave way, sending him downward, but it did not stop him.  With every last bit of strength, he stood and drove the head of the wrench into the bastard’s stomach.  He raised his weapon above his head for the final blow, but it was the trooper that struck first.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach.  The trooper stood, still holding the pistol poised at him.  He raised his hands to find them covered in deep crimson stains.  He spit blood as he tried to speak.  His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry, Bodger.”