The Ghost Rebellion (14 page)

As she shook out her ginger hair and brushed the snow from her shoulders, Brandon spoke. “Thank you for your assistance back there.”

Her hands, now free of the bulky gloves, flew and arched, forming shapes that Bruce recognised. No wonder the security gesture from Section P seemed so familiar.

My name is Ryfka Górski
, the woman signed to them.
Welcome to the Kingdom of Poland.
 

The sudden paleness that Brandon took on caught Bruce by surprise. Usually the Canadian had Bruce beat with languages, so he was pleased to feel the boot on the other foot.

“
She’s deaf then?” Brandon asked. He then looked at her and spoke louder and slower, “Par-don-me, but-if-you-are-deaf-how-do-we-com-mu-ni-cate?”

I can read lips exceedingly well,
Ryfka
replied.

“
Oh dear Lord,” he said, flustered. “Right then, I know some sign language. Basic, mind you, but I can do this.”

He cleared his throat and began signing.

We are full of cat,
Brandon signed awkwardly.
I am a delightful pillow of bananas from a kangaroo.
 

She signed and mouthed simultaneously,
What?
 

Bruce chuckled. That was enough watching his friend struggle.
I’m Bruce Campbell and he is Brandon Hill,
he signed.
Forgive my partner. The cold has taken a toll on his wits.
 

The way she glanced between them was challenging, but with the kind of spirit he could only admire. She gestured them over to the fire, and the three of them managed to get some warmth from it. All this time the old man sitting the chair didn’t stir.

That is my grand-uncle Leib
, Ryfka said.
He isn’t deaf, but he sleeps most of the time.
 

Had you been waiting for us long?

Ryfka shook her head and smiled.
No, for once the German trains were on time.
 

They grinned at each other, while Brandon looked between them. “Ummm....hello...what are you saying? Bruce, you really are a terrible translator.”

“
Oh, sorry, mate. This is Ryfka Górski, and this is Grand-uncle Leib,” he said, motioning to the old man snoring away in his chair.

“
Right then, now out with it. How are you fluent in sign language, and sign language that she can understand?”

Bruce smiled. “Ya know, I kinda like this. I know a practical skill that you don’t.” Brandon shot him a glare cold as the winter they had left outside, to which Bruce rapped his hand lightly against Brandon’s chest. “Aww, c’mon, mate, let me enjoy this. And to answer your question, she’s using British Sign Language. Guess she’s multi-lingual.”

“
And you know sign language because…”

“
Because I had a cousin who was deaf. He…” A muscle twitched in his jaw. It had been a long time since he had seen Trevor. “Good bloke. Both sides of my family could have been better to him. I bothered to learn sign language so I could talk to him. Also helped to handle any blighters wantin’ to make Trevor uncomfortable.”

Brandon gave him a warm smile. He wasn’t tearing up, was he? “That’s beautiful, Bruce. Especially from you. I never knew.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like I should wear a sign around my neck reading ‘Oye! I know sign language!’ wherever I go. A bit much, don’t you think?”

A soft knocking came from the hearth. Ryfka looked to Brandon, then to Bruce, and signed,
Where are the rest?
 

Bruce furrowed his brow. “The rest?” he spoke while signing, in order to keep Brandon informed. “The rest of what?”

The rest of your team. For the assault.

“
Assault?”

“
Assault?” Brandon asked. “What assault?”

Ryfka started signing. “Oh, bugger,” he groaned. “Apparently, Ryfka was expecting us to lead an assault on some factory around here. She’s been watching this facility for a spell, that it’s the Russian Empire enslaving locals and working on building up the military. Looks like the Czar is wanting to give mapmakers some work updating where borders fall.”

Brandon shook his head. “That’s not what we do!” He then turned back to Ryfka and bellowed,
“That’s-not-what-we-do!”
 

“
She can read lips, mate,” Bruce winced. “All you accomplish by doing that is making it hard for me to hear out of that ear.”

Ryfka stomped on the floor, earning a sharp
snort-snort
from Grand-uncle Leib.
Why are you here?
 

“
Her Majesty the Queen is ill,” Bruce began. He could feel himself sweating, and knew the sweating had nothing to with how long he had been standing by the hearth. “We’re supposed to be getting Firebird feathers, kept somewhere in that factory, according to Section P. You’re supposed to get us in, and then get us out.”

The once sweet-looking, pretty face twisted into the kind of anger that made both Bruce and Brandon step back. She paced by Grand-uncle Leib, her hands and arms flying in front her in sharp, precise movements.

“
So what she’s saying, Brandon…” Bruce began.

“
No need to translate, my friend,” Brandon said. “I’ve got the gist of it.”

Bruce watched Ryfka explain the problem, and his heart sunk. Firebird feathers had not sounded too difficult back in Whiterock, but as usual nothing was ever as it seemed. Perhaps he should have just stayed in the boiler.

Chapter Five

Wherein Our Agents of Deering-Do Test the Fantastic

Wellington’s heart leaped into his throat as the central cage protecting Eliza—more or less—from possible gunfire shot upward into the skies, the rockets underneath her carrying her higher and higher away from the battle. She was still gaining altitude even as the flames erupting from underneath her fizzled out.

“
MOVE! NOW!” a voice screamed.

It was Lieutenant O’Neil, waving madly, and motioning towards the barracks as if life itself depended on it.

Hands grabbed at him, yanking him backward. His eyes locked with Vania’s.

It was most definitely time to go.

Wellington stumbled backwards, and while his mind was preoccupied with Eliza, his feet seemed determined to follow Vania. Other soldiers were sprinting for the open barn doors of the base offices, while some disappeared into the nearby alleyways created by other buildings. Everyone was scattering, trying to find a new place to defend.

No, that wasn’t quite right; they were not looking for new defensive positions. Everyone was ducking for cover and looking for places to hide.

Once back inside the office, Wellington claimed a bare patch of the floor alongside Vania and Southerby’s men. Mere seconds after he stopped moving, the explosion ripped through the air. Windows shattered, walls buckled, and parts of the roof rained down as the floor rippled underneath them. Shards of glass and pieces of metal were hitting his back, and outside men began to scream. It reminded him of too many terrible things in his past.

Daring to look up at the ruined windows above his head, Wellington saw sunlight coming in through holes big and small. Dust from this mighty show of ordnance surrounded them, making it hard to see anything else in the room. His ears rang, but just through the high-pitched whine in his head he could still hear the steady drone of fire. “What was that?”

“
The Enforcer is armed with Gatlings and flame throwers, as you saw,” O’Neil said, picking himself up and brushing the debris from his uniform. “There is also, in the event of a total conversion of enemy forces or no-win scenarios, a self-destruct mode.”

Vania’s brow furrowed. “Has Agent Braun received formal training in the Enforcer’s schematics?”

“
No,” Wellington said, pulling himself back to his feet, “she just has quite the innate talent for mayhem and destruction.” He then motioned to the opening of the building’s barn door. “Once more unto the breach, Miss Pujari? I believe after that impressive display we should have the enemy turning on their heels.”

English soldiers were already back in the fray, as Eliza’s final act of defiance had taken out most of the invading rebels, their bodies slashed and torn apart by the explosion or shrapnel from the Enforcer. The survivors were gathering themselves up and attempting to retreat to the portal.

Now able to get a good look at it, Wellington immediately recognized it as an æthergate. The English had collected their ranks and were firing in fluid, precise lines, their bullets claiming a fair number of these soldiers attempting their escape. Others were running through the arch of white-blue energy revealing on the other side another world, or at least another part of India. Where the gate led, Wellington could not ascertain on account of lingering smoke and soot.

The gasp from Vania caught him in mid-stride. Perhaps she had never seen æthergates before. Perhaps it was the sight of people running through them and not appearing from the other side. To the uninitiated, æthergates were a wonder defying all sciences, but her dark eyes told Wellington what she was witnessing was less of a marvel and more of a horror.

Then he saw it for himself. A pair of insurgents were sprinting for the portal, reaching their escape only to vanish in a wild flash of light and cerulean fire. They did not continue on through the other side, nor did they explode as if struck by ordnance. They simply...
disappeared
. Another group of rebels were making for the gate when British riflemen expressed their displeasure. Many of them dropped, but three others flickered. They blinked in and out of existence as soldiers continued to open fire on them. These three reached the gate only to meet the same bizarre fate at the others.

“
We must find Eliza,” Wellington said, his eyes scanning upwards.

Vania turned about, peering at the sky through smoke and flame. “There!”

A few hundred feet above them, a small cage attached to four large parachutes descended back towards the fort. Wellington reached into his coat pocket and produced a small case no larger than his palm. His thumb brushed over a small switch that popped it open, revealing a small pair of opera glasses. He slipped his sun spectacles off and brought the telescopic lenses up to his eyes. He had to be sure.

“
I can just make out movement in the cage.” Wellington’s shoulders dropped slightly. “She appears to be laughing.”

“
Laughing?”

“
Hysterically, as a matter of fact,” he stated, snapping the small binoculars shut and returning his eyes to the protection of the sun spectacles. Relief made him feel quite light-headed. “I will wager you a shilling that she will ask me to build her one.”

A flash, followed by a sudden chill, stole Wellington’s attention from the sky. He turned just in time to see the æthergate begin to close. With a great rush of thunder, light, and electricity, the portal bent and twisted until reality returned to normal. Those rebels attempting to escape now faltered in their run, crying out to no one sympathetic to their cause. They had been abandoned and turned to face British infantry. Their hands raised into the air as they fell to their knees.

“
What was that?” Vania asked, her voice shaky.

“
Come along, Miss Pujari.” Wellington gave her a nod. “We can explain it all, but presently, we should welcome Miss Braun back to this earthly plane.”

The Enforcer’s escape pod was still descending easily and steadily, an occasional strong breeze toying with it as it fell. It pitched slightly to the left and then struck the open motor pool with a dull thud. Wellington and Vania ran for Eliza as the parachutes collapsed and fluttered to the ground. Over their own footfalls and the whispers of silk, Wellington could hear Eliza’s blissful laughter. She was enjoying herself. Beyond reason.

“
The woman is mad,” Vania said with a grin, pushing aside one of the parachutes.

Wellington chuckled as he pressed billowing fabric aside. “I believe it is a necessity in this job.”

The chutes parted just as Eliza threw back hydraulic releases that popped the front of her cage open.

“
That,” she began, unbuckling herself from the command chair, “was amazing! Welly, you must build me one of these with all speed!”

Vania looked from Eliza to Wellington, then back to Eliza. Sighing, she reached into one of her belt pouches, pulled out a shilling, and slapped it into Wellington’s hand. “Agent Braun, are you well?”

“
Exhilarated, Vania!” Eliza made a swooshing noise, and raised her hand. “The rockets...the acceleration....”

“
Did you happen to see the other side of that æthergate?” Wellington asked.

“
Afraid not,” Eliza replied, stepping free of the metallic cage. “Too much distortion on the event horizon.”

“
Æthergates in India. This complicates things tremendously.”

 “
Let’s not be too hasty,” Eliza said. Then she shook her head. “Ye gods, I do hate when I sound like you, Welly.”

He shrugged. “I find it quite endearing, actually.”

Eliza crooked an eyebrow, then brushed a single finger against his nose. “Back to the scene of the crime, my Archivist-Agent-Engineer. I’d like to see if either my mind is going, or if you truly are rubbing off on me.”

Wellington glanced over to Vania, and with a tiny nod to her, they followed Eliza back to where the æthergate had appeared. They came upon a rebel lying on his side. He did not appear to be wounded, but the wretch fought to breathe, and there was something definitely strange about the man. They were standing in front of him, close enough to see the ornate details of his white and scarlet robes.

“
Poor sod,” Eliza said, crouching down lower. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“
Not so close,” Wellington hissed.

“
It’s all right,” Eliza said, referring to the dying man in front of her. The rebel’s eyes were now darting in all directions. At moments, Wellington believed he saw him, but the man’s face was a concoction of panic and puzzlement. His eyes couldn’t focus on one point. “I’ve seen the rare daguerreotypes of this order,” Eliza said, now motioning to the fallen soldier’s clothes. “If memory serves, this is one of the factions looking to unite the continent with plans to install an emperor back on the throne.”