The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

Rhys found himself stricken as he remained in the room with the automaton. One misstep and the thing could crush him inside the cage. He took moments to decide how to issue another command as it stood waiting to obey.

He crawled to the back corner of the cell first. “Break open the bars.”

Rhys sheltered his head and braced himself as the automaton clambered over him. The cell shuddered as it seized the bars and lifted the entire structure off the floor.

Rhys fell against the back of the cell. The ironwork was no match for the machine’s mechanized strength. The front bars tore loose in moments. Rhys dove out of his confinement and landed once more in bilge, but he was more than happy to be free.

He wiped his hands on his pants. The automaton continued to work on deconstructing the cell, not noticing that its occupant had been released. “You can stop now.”

The automaton registered the word ‘stop’ and dropped the mangled cell.

Rhys felt a smile stretch on his face. “At least somebody follows orders around here.”

The commotion coming from the third deck did little to unnerve Finley or shake his aim as he kept the barrel of the gun steadied on Lydia’s forehead. “Have you made your decision?”

Lydia swallowed a lump in her dry throat. She couldn’t break down, couldn’t let Finley intimidate her. She had to stay strong, survive, and find some way to stop him from reaching the French coast, even if Rhys was no longer there to take control of the ship.

“Lydia is capable of reason. Firearms are unnecessary.” Nikolaos decided that now was a suitable time to make good on his promise of protecting her. He cozied up to her, a human shield in case Finley fired. Lydia knew it was a useless gesture, seeing what the metal-piercing bullets in Rhys’ pistol were capable of doing to the armor of her automatons, much less human flesh.

A chilling wail erupted from two levels below. Her skin prickled. Duncan shivered behind her, judging from how the pressure of the gun slid away from her head.

Finley’s trigger finger trembled, his only indication that he also heard the sound.

“Must be the engine,” Duncan murmured, uncertainty adding a tremor to his voice.

Lydia knew no engine could make such an eerie racket, but she didn’t comment.

“We’ll see about it as soon as the lady makes her choice,” Finley resumed.

Lydia nudged Nikolaos off her before looking Finley square in the eyes. “It would do you no good to kill me. I’m the only one on this ship that knows how to make those automatons operational.”

“Why do I need them operational?”

“Broussard will want to see if they work before he pays you. What if he asks for a demonstration?”

Finley frowned. “I just told you that if you want to stay alive, then agree to the offer. It really is that simple.”

“She’s stalling you, Captain,” Duncan supplied. “We need to see what that noise was before it comes upstairs.”

Just then, Thomas barreled into the galley, puffing. Both Duncan and Finley automatically turned their guns on him.

“Don’t shoot.” Sweat poured from his head and hit the floor as he stooped over, gasping for air.

Finley lowered the pistol. “What’s going on below? I told you to watch the prisoners.”

Lydia’s ears perked. That meant the crew was still alive. Why, then, did Nikolaos tell her that he saw their bodies being carted off?

Thomas regained enough breath to speak. “One of those machines is loose. It’s that woman’s fault. It broke through the cargo hold and came at me in the brig while I was guarding Cartret.”

“Rhys is alive?” Renewed hope surged through Lydia even as Duncan struck her with the butt of his gun again, this time on her shoulder.

Finley came around the table and seized her arm. He kept Rhys’ pistol in his other hand. “She’ll make the machine stand down. Duncan, take the lantern and the adviser and follow me. You lead the way, Thomas.”

They waited for him to get a reluctant head start down the corridor. Lydia hardly had time to process all that was going on around her. An automaton was roaming the vessel. Rhys was alive, as were his loyal crewmen, thank God. That was if the automaton didn’t get to them yet.

But how did one become operational if its engine was disabled? The only automaton that had that capability was the clockwork hybrid model, but she purposely left its key loose to keep it from being wound up.

Nikolaos stumbled into her as they were hustled from the galley. His voice came out a raspy whisper. “Lydia, Rhys’ authority began unraveling days ago. It would do no good to stay on the losing side.”

She faced him in the darkened corridor. “The only thing that’s unraveling is your agenda. You lied to me. You let me think Rhys was dead.”

“You would not have listened to the new proposal if you knew Cartret was alive.”

If only King Sabba knew just how plotting and underhanded his chief adviser was. “You worked this out with them long before tonight, didn’t you? While you were in the brig.”

Finley gave Lydia a rough shake to silence her. Both her shoulder and head rattled from the action.

The mutineers steered her and Nikolaos to the door leading to the third level deck, which Thomas left wide open in his haste to flee the automaton. The engine hummed down below, but the wall light fixtures were still off.

The five of them climbed down the stairs in single file. Finley put Lydia in front of him and pressed the gun to the small of her back.

Thomas’s lantern flickered in his hand as he cast light on the cargo hold. “That’s where it broke through.”

Lydia stared at the demolished door that lay in pieces of broken timber and twisted iron. “None of the automatons could do that unless their engines were started. Even then their voice receiver wiring would have to be activated.”

Finley gripped her shoulder. “You were in the hold a few days ago. Did you activate them?”

She winced. “No.”

“I don’t believe you.” Finley’s eyes flashed before he barked at Thomas. “Are the other automatons still inside the hold?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go see.”

While Thomas approached the hold, Nikolaos took another opportunity to deliver a babbling whisper in Lydia’s ear. “Do everything they tell you.”

“I won’t hear advice from you.”

“I told them I would get you to negotiate. I didn’t commit the mutiny.”

“You took part in it.” Lydia groaned as Finley twisted her arm behind her.

“Shut it, and go help Thomas find the automaton.” He shoved her towards the rubble scattered in front of the cargo hold. Lydia moved her right foot just in time to avoid running a twisted iron shard through her sock.

Nikolaos sidled between her and Finley. “We had an understanding. If she cooperated, you and your men were not to hurt her.”

Finley rolled his eyes. “Stop putting on a show. She knows you’re a coward.”

Lydia pulled at Nikolaos for him to move. “He’s right. Besides, Mr. Finley has conceded that shooting me would be pointless, since he needs me to stop the automaton.”

“But I don’t have to shoot you to prove a point.” Finley turned the gun on Nikolaos and fired.

The corridor lit up when the bullet left the barrel. Blood speckled the front of Lydia’s shirt as Nikolaos hit the floor.

Lydia screamed and dropped to her knees. The armor-piercing bullet cut clean through Nikolaos’ arm and made its mark in his side. She bunched the fabric of his shirt against the larger wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.

The light from Duncan’s lantern showed Nikolaos’ face turn white as blood drained from him. His eyes met Lydia’s before losing their focus.

Lydia couldn’t think. Her ears rang from the gunfire. The smell of gunpowder burned her nose.

Finley yanked her away from Nikolaos. She dangled from his arm and tipped around the debris. “Any more glib observations you’d care to share with us?”

She shook her head.

“And that, gentlemen, is how you silence a woman who will try to match wits with you.”

#

From his vantage point behind the crates in the cargo hold, Rhys clenched his jaw as he attempted to get a clear shot on Finley. If Nikolaos hadn’t decided to be a hero and get in the way, he could’ve fired on the smug navigator and spared Nikolaos from getting a bullet to the flesh. He picked the wrong time to cultivate a conscience.

Rhys moved his trigger finger as Thomas got in his line of fire. Lying in wait was little better than his original idea of bringing the automaton back to the upper level. To minimize danger and prevent further damage to the ship, he left it outside the brig, anchored by a firm Greek phrase to stay put.

That was if the prior gunfire didn’t jolt it to come barraging upstairs. The last thing he needed was a corridor full of screaming people running to keep from being trampled by a machine punching holes in the hull.

Thomas continued to stand in Rhys’ line of sight. If he shot him, Finley would have time to duck away with Lydia in tow.

Rhys clutched the handle of the standard service revolver he found in a box. Only one bullet in the chamber. The lantern he picked up in the brig after Thomas dropped it sat by his feet, its oil depleted. What little light there was outside the cargo hold shifted when the men swung their lanterns. He needed to get closer.

“Get in there, Thomas.” He heard Finley demand.

Rhys crouched lower amongst the crates, careful not to move suddenly as the light shifted again and Thomas entered the room.

The coward stood less than five feet away from him. Still no good. To shoot Thomas would be to alert the other men. Then he’d face two guns, one of them his very own commissioned weapon. He saw what it did to Nikolaos. He couldn’t allow Lydia to be without hope of rescue.

Rhys lowered his head as Thomas raised the lantern higher.

“The other five soldiers are still here, C-Captain. They’re on the b-back wall.”

A smile formed on Rhys’ lips. Thomas was too afraid to come closer.

Finley shouted into the room. “Are they activated?”

“No. The one that got out still is.”

Rhys rolled his eyes.

“That’s the clockwork model.” Lydia’s voice filled his ears. Her tone was tinged with fear.

A crash issued from the bowels of the ship. Rhys held his breath.

Thomas swung his lantern as he pivoted. “It’s still down in the brig.”

The sound of steel bending reached Rhys’ ears as the automaton moved again. Thomas ran out of the cargo hold. The room plunged back into darkness.

Scuffling occurred outside the door. Wood smashed beneath someone’s boot.

“Give her your light, Thomas,” Finley commanded. “She brought it to life. She’ll go down there to stop it.”

Rhys climbed over the crates. The time for lying in wait was over.

He reached the mouth of the cargo hold as the party started towards the steps to the lowest level. Duncan brought up the rear, carrying his lantern. The light was just enough for Rhys to aim his gun by.

He started to squeeze the trigger.

“Captain…”

Nikolaos. Rhys looked down and saw him on the floor, attempting to move his legs. Nikolaos moaned in pain.

Rhys stepped back and pressed against the doorframe, hidden from sight by the pile of rubble.

“Captain, wait,” Duncan called to Finley up ahead. “I heard something in the cargo hold.”

Nikolaos groaned. “Help. Please…Cartret…”

Could he just be silent for a moment? Rhys listened for Duncan’s approach. He crouched down to avoid being in the lantern light.

The deck hand clomped towards Nikolaos. “It’s Abeiron. He’s moving.”

“Handle it.” Finley kept going. He all but tossed Lydia down the stairs into the darkness, and then pushed Thomas after her.

Duncan lowered his gun to Nikolaos’ head. Rhys fired.

Duncan gasped and dropped the gun and the lantern as he fell backwards. Rhys came out of the shadows. While Duncan still clutched his thigh, Rhys delivered a hook to his jaw. Bone split as Duncan’s head hit the wooden floor.

Rhys picked up the lantern and Duncan’s gun, discarding his own.

“Cartret,” Nikolaos rasped. “I can’t feel my arm.”

Rhys came to his side with the lantern. Nikolaos’ right arm hung uselessly in its rope bounds. The fabric of his shirt was soaked near the lower torso. Every breath Nikolaos took came up ragged. “Lie still. Keep your left hand pressed against your side.”

Nikolaos made a dreadful sound when Rhys maneuvered it over the wound. Blood bubbled up over Nikolaos’ fingers. His eyes glazed over with delirium. Nothing could be done for him short of laudanum and a surgeon.

Rhys stood. “I have to rescue Lydia. I’ll come back. Don’t take your hand off that wound.” The lantern in his hand sputtered and died, plunging the space into darkness.

Lydia’s shouts echoed from below. Three gunshots fired in rapid succession.

Rhys threw the useless lantern aside, stepped around Nikolaos and went down the corridor to descend into the brig.

Rhys followed the sound of chaos ensuing as he padded down the broken stairs. His foot slipped in the depressions made by the automaton. Sawdust fell onto his head as pieces of the ceiling fell and the rafters shook.

Ahead, the machine loomed above the forms of Lydia and Finley. Thomas lay face down on the ground less than a few feet away, unmoving.

Lydia backed into a corner by the brig entrance. The machine had its eyeless face turned her way.

Rhys ran past the center wall, where a section was torn and the steel insulation hung exposed. He opened his mouth to yell for the automaton to stand down.

“Rhys.” Lydia’s call cut him off. She locked her gaze on him, wide and alarmed. “Behind you.”

Rhys dove forward and to the side just before a gunshot added to the din in the corridor. When he came up, Finley stood behind the insulation. Finley lowered his gun again, preparing to fire.

Rhys tucked and rolled to the other side of the corridor. The bullet landed in the wall above his head. Still clutching his revolver, he thrust it Finley’s way and fired, missing. “That’s six bullets you fired, Finley. You’re out.”