Chapter Four - Vigil
The past weeks had been exhausting, but even with the constant short sleep, Sebastian knew they’d been some of the best of his life. He’d been General Shaw’s right hand, occasionally his eyes, and the knowledge of deployment and positioning he’d picked up during that time had been invaluable and incredible. Even better had been the nightly sessions where he and the General reviewed the great battles in history. Every night a new conflict, every night a new piece of knowledge gleaned from almost four decades of combat experience. Every day more work, until he was so exhausted he forgot any dreams, waking or sleeping.
Over the course of those weeks, autumn gave way to winter. The first snows fell, blanketing the landscape, lending a false serenity to the war-torn countryside. As he walked toward his vigil, he amused himself by pretending he was a locomotive, steam pouring from his mouth. Even the faint clanking of his legs as he strode along couldn’t ruin his good mood. He’d had no nightmares for weeks, he was a trusted member of General Shaw’s Staff, and by morning he would officially be part of the 54th and have his own command on The Line. The last five years of his life had been spent working toward this moment. For a time he’d feared it would not come, but now it was here.
He approached the chapel near the rail platform. His Mechanicals on standby, his weapons and crystal devices in General Shaw’s lookout post with the General’s second in command, Colonel Hallowell. General Shaw himself stood by the door of the chapel, staring inside, his faded blue uniform near invisible in the dusk. The general turned when Sebastian was five paces away. Sebastian took note of the fact that his breath did not steam when he spoke, but by now Shaw’s deathly whisper seemed almost normal.
“Cole. Good to see you here, young man. You’re certain you wish to go through with this?”
“I’m certain, Sir.”
“Good. Any questions?”
“I’ve read up on the custom in your journal, Sir. It explains when you stand vigil, once every three months, but it doesn’t explain why.”
“The men of the 54th, both the boys who were with me at Wagner and the ones who have joined since... They’re not the same.”
“I’ve seen some of them from a distance, sir. They may not be entirely of flesh and blood any longer, but how can I say differently?” Here Sebastian rapped the metal knuckles of his reinforcement against his thigh. He’d taken to wearing the ‘sleeves’ everywhere, even to sleep. He almost forgot what it was like to be without them.
“You’ll remember how you’re different tonight, son. I hope you’ll see how you’re the same.”
“Sir?”
“One thing though, Cole. If you step in that door, do not step back out until dawn. The penalty for breaking your vigil will be the same as any other man in this unit.”
“Sir. I understand.”
“Go, make your peace with God, Cole.”
“Sir.”
The first thing Sebastian noticed when he stepped into the room was the smell. Heavy, cloying incense burned in the corners of the room. Underneath the smell of fragrant smoke, he could detect a whiff of something rotten. Spoiled meat, perhaps. The scent was odd in the otherwise immaculate chapel.
Sebastian was the first one in. The entire space of the chapel was empty, the bare wooden floor polished to a shine that reflected the candles set in sconces on the walls. Walking carefully, so as not to damage the floorboards, he stepped solemnly forward toward the front of the church. An elderly chaplain stood behind a small rail, an old, tattered Bible in his hands. As Sebastian approached, he looked up from his reading. Scars ran across his face, light against his dark skin. He pulled a set of spectacles from his breast pocket and perched them on his nose. When he’d had a clear look at Sebastian he smiled, his teeth straight and shockingly white against his skin.
The chaplain spoke with a voice both deep and soothing. After weeks of hearing little other than Shaw’s tortured rasp, it was strange hearing a voice not only normal, but pleasant. The accent placed the man’s origins in New England, although Sebastian couldn’t be any more specific than that. “So. You’re the young man Robert told me about. You understand what you’re to do?”
“I’m to stand vigil until morning.”
“Do you know what that means, young man?”
Sebastian couldn’t help his grin, however inappropriate it might be. “Not really, sir.”
The old chaplain’s answering grin ought to have been as frightening as General Shaw’s, but somehow it comforted him. “You don’t call me sir, young man.”
“Sergeant doesn’t seem right.”
“Then you can just call me Pastor.”
“Not Father?”
“You can, if you like, but you didn’t genuflect.”
“Maybe I’m lapsed.”
The chaplain’s smile dimmed a bit. Not enough to make him look forbidding, but enough that Sebastian could tell bandying words wasn’t what he ought to be doing. Since he didn’t know exactly what he should be doing, he asked.
“You can stand or kneel, as you like. Most of the men kneel, excepting a few who can’t. You pray if that’s how the spirit moves you. If not, you think on what’s important to you. Think on why you’re here. What you defend. Why you keep on moving every day. You understand?”
“I think so, sir. When do I start?”
The old chaplain looked out the window to where the last rays of the setting sun faded from the sky. “You start now. Come Christmas morning, the General and the men under him spell you.”
“The General?”
“He stands vigil too. He’s a man of the 54th, same as us. For the first time in a long while, he gets to attend church with his friends the Hallowell brothers.”
“Oh. Who will be in charge then?”
The old man’s face creased in a grin once more as the doors to the chapel creaked open and Sebastian heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet crossing the floor, filling the space behind him. “That would be you, son. Your General thinks it’s past time you stood a watch on The Line, and not even the Hun would attack on Christmas.”
Sebastian knelt; his head bowed. He felt the men of the unit shuffling in around him, pressing close. The smell of old decay grew stronger, sickly sweet overpowering the incense. Sebastian ignored them, trying to remember the simple prayers his mother had taught him in his youth. As hard as he tried, the words wouldn’t come. In the end, his father’s words were what he remembered. ‘Son’, his father had told him, ‘it don’t matter what you say, or how you say it, just that you mean it.’
General Shaw and the Academy had given him the knowledge he would need. Major Abrams had given him the strength. With those and his father’s advice in mind, Sebastian spent a time lost in asking whatever god was listening to give him the wisdom to know his duty and the courage to do it. After a time, he heard the pastor’s voice rise above the quiet whisper of prayers and shifting bodies, calling the attention of the men around Sebastian.
With a start he realized that the men about him had sidled closer to him, pressing against him. He looked about him, saw faces in a veritable rainbow of colors. The near purple of northeast Africans mixed with the dark brown of colored men from the American South. Both were surrounded by the pale skin of north Europeans and the dusky colors of the Mediterranean. He noticed all of those before he began noticing the wounds, the emaciation, the cloudy eyes. Finally, he saw the prostheses, crude and utilitarian. Hands replaced by metal claws. Feet and even entire legs replaced by simple pegs. One man beside him had his heavy blue coat buttoned clumsily over a torso wrapped in sheet metal.
Strangely, Sebastian felt no fear, despite the horror show around him. Where another might see the walking dead, his weeks with General Shaw had inured him to that. Instead, he saw men who had sacrificed everything, even their eternal rest, in order to champion the cause of Liberty. Leigh could do so much for them were she here.
Thoughts of Leigh ripped his attention from his fellow soldiers of the 54th, insulated him from the wheezing hymn they now sang. His first thought was the cool of her hands lifting him from the floor of the garage, the strength of her arms as she led him to his quarters, the understanding in her voice as she told him how brave he’d been at the garage. He bowed his head and pulled his hands to his chest, thinking of how she had visited him, even before he awoke. Pressed to his chest he felt the locket she had repaired and returned to him.
He assumed it was her, at least. The smooth, clear metal covering Sarah’s picture was of a piece with the gold of the back, and Leigh was the only one he knew who could work feats of alchemical wizardry like that. Clutching the locket, he pulled it to his lips. “Am I doing the right thing, Sarah? I know you don’t approve, but I could not live with myself if I did not do this.” He knelt a while, thinking about what Sarah would say, thinking about his father standing behind the bar where Sebastian had last seen him. Neither of them approved of his choice to take up arms, but when so many others had already given their lives, he felt he had no other alternative.
Running a thumb over the clear metal above Sarah’s portrait, he realized that despite her anger at his boorishness, Leigh had never stopped watching over him. He lost himself for a long time thinking of her eyes, a soft brown so like to the color of her hair.
Some time later, noises from the rear of the chapel disturbed his reminisces. One of the soldiers muttered something over and over. The soldier’s volume increased steadily until he was shouting angrily. Sebastian looked toward the soldier, who rose to his feet. Over and over, he kept repeating the same words, anger warring with loss in his voice. “I can not remember!”
Another soldier stood in front of the shouting one, shaking him, shouting at him, his accent thick with the sound of Prussia. “Her name was Giselle, Erich. Giselle!”
Erich shook the other man off, his voice growing more panicked and furious by the moment. “You tell me that, Dietrich, but I can not remember!” Suddenly he threw Dietrich off and ran for the door. As he ran, his voice lost coherence. By the time he slammed through the doors, his voice became an endless moaning cry tearing itself from his throat. From outside Sebastian heard a whispery voice, then the sound of a single gunshot. A minute later, Erich’s moans became screams. Flickering orange light showed through the windows of the chapel. By the time the screams and fires had died, Sebastian could see the light of dawn creeping through the windows. He stood, exchanged nods with the pastor, and threaded his way to the doors.
General Shaw stood outside the doors. Beyond him Sebastian saw troops beginning to drift in from the trenches in ones and twos. The soldiers in the church shouldered past the pair of officers, heading to spell their fellows who would stand vigil this day. Shaw looked at Sebastian and smiled. “It has been too long since I could stand vigil with the Hallowells on Christmas day. Captain Cole, until we return, The Line is yours from Point Golf to Point India.”
“The command is mine from Point Golf to Point India until sunset. Yes, sir.”
“Hold the Line, Cole.”
“I will, sir.”
***
Leigh stared into the mirror in her quarters and pulled away the ribbon holding her hair in its bun. The moment she did, her hair sprang out into a waterfall of curls. It wasn’t quite fashion, but it concealed her earmuffs. The curls framed her face and left her wondering if she had got her makeup right. Cosmetics had been impossible to acquire, but with a fully stocked alchemical lab and her mother’s advice had been child’s play to create. Capricious had tutored her, given her very clear instructions, but the process was as much art as skill. Her cheeks were well done, just a faint hint of a blush bringing color to them. Her lips, normally quite full, defined and accentuated by the addition of a reddish gloss. Her lashes lengthened by a mysterious black paste, the few flaws on her skin eradicated by a dusting of powder.
That left her eyes. She’d tried six times now, but no matter how she worked it, she wound up looking like a clown. Without makeup they were the same plain shade they’d always been, too light to be a proper brown, too dark to be gold. With a dissatisfied toss of her head, she decided to forego learning to make up her eyes. A quick check of her new tailored uniform showed that all but her coat and muff were clean, pressed, and in place. After a final tug of her uniform vest, she pulled on her coat and put her left hand into her warm fur muff. The General had given her both the muff and the custom-tailored coat just the week before.
She’d been surprised at that. She’d gone to his office expecting resistance to her request for Christmas leave. She’d been equally convinced he would deny her choice of destinations. Instead, he’d handed her both her approved leave form and her train pass in silence. When she’d had a chance to register his signature on both, he cleared his throat for her attention. There in his hands was a simple brown box tied with twine.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t find proper wrapping paper on short notice.”
“Sir! You shouldn’t have! I didn’t get you anything!”
“Abrams, you’ve given me something precious. Something I hadn’t realized I’d lost. You gave me hope. You made me believe we can actually beat the Hun back, that we can win this war. Next to that? This is just a token.”
“Still, sir. It’s not proper.”
“No, improper is what I think you’re intending to do with that leave I granted you.”
“General March!”
“Oh, be still, Abrams. If you’re going to be an officer in a man’s army, you’ll have to bear the same jokes I’d make with a man in your position.”
“I… I suppose so, sir. If you object, I’ll take my leave elsewhere. The beaches at Nice are still beautiful, I’m told.”
“If I objected, you’d see a big red ‘denied’ stamp on that request, rather than my signature. You’re going to visit your young man. The two of you were the model of decorum while you were stationed together. If this means we can’t station you together after this, the army will just have to adjust.”
When she returned to her quarters, she’d found the coat and muff, both tailored to fit her perfectly. The muff even had a small series of pockets cleverly hidden within. Those pockets were now, of course, full of various useful bits. It had been hers for a whole week now.
She looked in the mirror. With the makeup, the new coat, the muff, and her newest uniform, she could almost convince herself she was ready. She stood staring until a sharp tone sounded in her ear.
“I’m going, mother.”
Suiting actions to words, she strode from her room on the upper floor of the officer’s barracks, where rooms had been set aside for Senior Officers and Lady Officers once the latter began arriving in force from the States. She walked down the steps, her uniform boots clicking against the cold tiles. The metronomic clack, clack, clack stirred something deep within her, and she settled into a march as she left the building. She crossed the parade ground, head held high, visually examining the reinforcement train as she approached.
Other than the engine and David Abram’s commandeered passenger car, only two cars made up the train, but those cars were carefully packed. The rear car was a tanker of Leigh’s design. The ‘tank’ was nothing more than heavily waxed fabric. It would contain the jellied concoction during transit, and store it until used, but a simple application of pressure would result in a steady stream of fuel from the nozzle at one end. The front car held the newest shipment of Colt Mechanical Men, fully modified, armed, and ready to stride into use the moment they arrived on The Line. Shipping them that way was dangerous, but with how close the rails ran to The Line, they might be called upon to defend themselves.
Sebastian might be called on to defend himself someday soon. When he did, his heart would be as strong as the rest of him. Without thinking, she reached to her ear and brought up the crystal device to listen to the steady thumping of his heart. A moment later, she stood paralyzed, one foot on the lowest step of the passenger car, one hand frozen in mid-reach to grip the rail. Her mind raced as her ears took in the racing of Sebastian’s heart, the thunder of the big Mechanical gun he now carried, and his ongoing wordless scream.
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Leigh sprinted toward the garage, her voice ringing across the parade ground.
“Central forces incoming!”
***
Sebastian looked down from the command post into a scene from his nightmares. From Point Golf to Point India and beyond in both directions, Mechanicals rose from the Central trenches and advanced. The fire of the 54th cut at them, but that fire was light, less than half of what it should be. It wouldn’t hold, and the new Central Mechanicals would cut them down, cut him down.
His fears clutched at him. The visions that took him rose before his eyes. Terror tried to unman him. He clung desperately to the open window, hoping he wouldn’t fall from his perch when the visions took over. He looked down on the wave of enemy Mechanicals, holding his breath.
A bark of laughter forced its way from his lips. His lack of imagination, always Sarah’s despair, had saved him. He could imagine nothing worse than the sight before his eyes right now. Never taking his gaze from the enemy, he reached down to the rickety planning table. A savage grin split his face as he lifted the monstrous Mechanical gun he’d taken to carrying since he realized his sleeves could handle the recoil. With his chin he activated the crystal device that connected him to his Mechanicals.
“Command Post Mechanical Squads One through Four, ready guns. Command Post Mechanical Squad One, link fire on commander.”
From beneath he heard his Mechanicals prepare for battle. Holding his gun with one hand, he activated the device to contact the unit directly between him and the advancing enemy. “Sergeant Jefferson. Split your forces and fall back on Points Golf and India. Allow the enemy through Point Hotel.”
The response, interspersed with the sounds of hammering guns, was still immediate. “Yes sir. Moving to Points Golf and India. Enfilade fire, sir?”
“Wait until the enemy commits his reserve, Sergeant, then fire at will.”
“Yes, sir. Hold fire until enemy reserve commits.”
As the troops protecting his position began to withdraw, Sebastian contacted Point Golf and Point India, telling them to expect reinforcement and pass his orders down The Line. Across the 54th’s section of The Line soldiers and Mechanical men dashed through the trenches, forming themselves into jagged teeth poised to ambush the Centrals when they moved into the positions the 54th abandoned.
After that, there was nothing to do but wait for the enemy to arrive. As they approached, small with distance but growing larger, he took the time to examine their Mechanical Men. They were a type he hadn’t seen before. They didn’t have the ugly, utilitarian, boxy look of the Austrian-Built Prussian Blitzmen, but they weren’t as beautiful and graceful as the Italian daVincis. They were a touch smaller than either, and even at this distance gold and silver highlights reflected the morning sun. Each of them had a crown on its head and a pair of tanks on its back. Sebastian wished he could make out whether the crown was functional or not. When a new model of Mechanical entered the war, there was no way to know how to take it down most effectively, or even what weapons it might use.
Sebastian grinned savagely. When finesse was impossible, brute force was useful. When he could just make out the insignia on the new Mechanicals, a moon and star worked in gold, he pulled his gun to his shoulder and whispered into the crystal device connecting him to his Mechanicals.
“Squad Four, link fire to Squad Four, Mechanical One, Squad Four, Mechanical One, open fire when enemy is at fifty feet.” That would stop any that got close. Hopefully. A moment later, Sebastian saw the first enemy soldier scramble from the trench, followed by a wave of his fellows. Their insignia was the same moon and star, only on a red field. Ottomans. With that knowledge, he suddenly knew with crystal clarity what the enemy called their new Mechanicals.
His voice filled with savage glee as he squeezed the trigger. “Ottoman Immortals, meet the Undying 54th.”
***
The moment Leigh heard the thunder of Sebastian’s guns sounding through her crystal, her mind raced. Late night discussions with General March, books on logistics and campaigns, even Capricious’ spoken almanacs all fused together into a seamless, lightning streaked whole. Conclusions and decisions came faster than she could convey them all. With one hand she twisted the selector on her crystal device, with the other she pulled her new muff into the sleeve of her coat.
As she whipped the coat from her body, exposing her to the chill December air, she heard the distinctive chime of an activating crystal device. From the barracks and from her earpiece General March’s sleep-muddled voice barked out.
“What is it, Abrams?”
Leigh didn’t have time to pause. She snapped a salute while moving, pitching her voice low to avoid feedback. “The Line is under assault, sir. It’s a ruse. There is a Central unit nearby. They’ll attack when enough time has passed to make us think there is a breach.”
Outside the crystal fortress of her mind, it warmed her when the general didn’t ask if she was sure. “Any information on them other than that, Abrams?”
“No, sir. I can’t even tell you exactly where they are, but they’ll be in the direction of the Italian Front.”
“Give me a few moments. Stand by your crystal for orders.”
Without acknowledging, Leigh strode into the garage. As she passed him, she tossed her coat to Patterson and slipped her goggles on. He caught the coat, stammering questions about what was going on. As she marched toward the back of the Garage where her mother rested, she barked orders over her shoulder.
“Lock down the garage. Kill anything Central that tries to get in.”
His reply was lost as she finally reached Capricious. She stood, goggles over her eyes, arms akimbo, feeling the cold of the winter day seep through her thin shirt, tightening her skin, raising goose bumps. Capricious straightened, one hand reaching for her spear as the other disconnected her fuel lines. Capricious’ disembodied voice sounded in her ear as she stood waiting.
“Take off your skirt and petticoats.”
“Mother, this is hardly the time for me to disrobe.”
“You can’t drive in skirts, daughter.”
“Mother, this is…”
Leigh forgot how quickly her mother moved. Before she could react, the gargantuan spear thrust down, slicing the thick khaki of her skirts like paper. A moment later, she stepped into her mother’s palm, her face thunderous.
“You’ll need to start wearing trousers under your skirts, daughter.”
“We’ll discuss this later. I feel a need to kill something now.”
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Unlike her last panicked trip down Capricious’ gullet, this time she was aware of the slick fabric rubbing against her as she slipped downward. When she landed astride the simple seat deep within Capricious’ armored torso, it shocked her far less than last time. Her goggles meshed smoothly with the viewing tunnel lowered over her eyes. Her hands gripped leather-wrapped controls, her feet rested on hatched metal throttle pedals. Capricious’ stereophones linked with her own earpieces.
Images reflected from viewports across Capricious’ surface to Leigh’s eyes. Sounds piped in via crystal. With her hands and feet she controlled fifty tons of armor, engines, and weapons. Adrenaline surged through her, merging seamlessly with the rage of her interrupted meeting with Sebastian. A chime sounded in her ear, and with a nod she reactivated her link to the general.
His voice terse, raised over the sound of his Command Mechanical powering up, “I’m leading the HQ unit scouting. You wait here until we find them. Be ready to support us. Kill anything that comes near the HQ.”
“Gladly.”
***
Sebastian switched which Mechanical Men were mirroring his fire with a word. He’d lost track of how many times he’d done so. While one unit fired, another reloaded, and the third guarded against enemies coming too close. So far, he’d lost a full squad to Immortals surging into the trenches, only to be cut down in turn by the massed fire of Sebastian’s Men.
Hundreds of Immortals lay unmoving in front of his lines, their human officers marked only by splashes of red. Not much was left of something human hit by weapons designed to destroy an eight foot tall Mechanical Man.
Another wave surged forward, and Sebastian walked his squad’s fire from left to right, shattering one Immortal at a time. Before they reached his lines, they had fallen, but Sebastian saw more lining up in the enemy trenches, shielded from the fire of his Men. He wished he had some artillery to drop on them, but the 54th had no proper Auto Cannon. They had some short, ranged field pieces, but those couldn’t drop rounds in from above. Not easily, at least.
Sebastian still wondered about that when he felt a round punch through the reinforcement of General Shaw’s command tower, burying itself in the sandbags and concrete. He barely had time to grab a crystal device before the round exploded, blowing the tower and its contents across the landscape.
***
Capricious crouched in the garage, waiting. Leigh crouched with her, heart pounding with rage, mind racing with the crystal clarity that accompanied their gestalt. They cranked the gain on the crystal device connecting them to Sebastian until they could hear his breath rushing in and out of his lungs, and the thunder of his gun made their bones rattle.
Something exploded close to him, air rushed past, his choked off scream, and a thud. Moments later, he called for backup, then the thunder of his gun echoed in their ears once more. They keyed March’s crystal device and awaited the chime of his response. Capricious clutched at the great spear Iklwa, Leigh checked the linkages on the gun, Ipapa. After an interminable wait, the crystal chimed and March spoke.
“We’ve found evidence they’re here. It looks like they’ve figured our patrol routes. I’ll let you know as soon as we…”
The deep metal-on-metal sound of something striking the armored carapace of his Command Mechanical interrupted the General. A moment later that sound gave way to the tortured shriek of metal being rent asunder. The general’s voice rose above the sounds of battle for a moment. “What in the name of God is that…”
Leigh’s response came without thought. “We’re on our way, sir.”
They leapt from the cavern of the garage already sprinting. The tracks of the general’s Command Mechanical were clear where they left the muster point on the lawn, but following him might not be the fastest route. Leigh called out over the crystal device, her words flattened by her racing mind. “Fire a flare, sir.”
The general didn’t acknowledge, but seconds later a brilliant green spark leapt into the sky to the East. Leigh saw it first and had them moving that direction before Capricious knew what was happening. When she realized, they broke into a fast sprint once more, their great shield Glacis held horizontal, their spear Iklwa parallel to the ground in their other hand. They crested a rise and came upon a pitched battle in progress.
The enemy had almost no Mechanical Men, and most of those were already on the ground, smoking. A single Bertha Command Mechanical hid behind the next ridge, its eight mechanical legs hidden, only the top of its crew compartment peeking over. The remaining Central forces were neither human nor proper Mechanical Men. Like Capricious herself, they were something else entirely.
Six massive mechanical beasts stalked the valley, pouncing on the AEF Mechanicals, jaws crushing them, claws tearing them to pieces. One of the great beasts hung from General March’s Command Mechanical, rear claws raking its belly. Burning coals already fell out, soon the boiler would fall and the whole thing would become the world’s largest military-themed paperweight. Leigh felt the gun, Ipapa, drawing a bead on that beast first.
Her mind flashed with crystalline light, and she overrode Ipapa, forcing it to stillness. A single word slipped from her lips. “Iklwa”. Capricious understood, her Engines roared out defiance, and she leapt from the ridge to the general’s Mechanical in one bound. The great spear stabbed downward, piercing the Central beast and pinning it to the ground. The bottom edge of Glacis crashed down on the beast’s head. Fluids, clear and red and grey, leaked out from the crushed metal, and the entire beast gave a twitch and went still.
Over the next hill, the Bertha began to move, bringing its gargantuan siege gun into play. They had no time to spare for that, the other beasts had registered their presence. They wrenched Iklwa free and turned to face their foes. The closest fell to a stab through the forehead, and then the enemy attacked. One leapt on Glacis, claws shrieking as they slashed harmlessly at the great shield’s armor. Another leapt on their spear arm, jaws fastening on the forearm and claws flailing. A third managed to get behind them, leaping on their back and raking claws across their thighs. Leigh screamed as the damage registered as pain. The final enemy lined up to leap on them, to sever the connection between Capricious and their body. It leapt…
Halfway through its leap the guns of the general’s Command Mechanical smashed it sideways. Smaller AEF mechanicals swarmed over it, hacking with their thick machetes. It writhed, but like the general’s machine earlier, could not shake the smaller mechanicals free.
Her Engines roared, and they leapt into the air, twisting as they did, falling to land on their back. The big Mechanical Cat may have been huge compared to the AEF Mechanical Men, but compared to Capricious it was a housecat. Not a terribly well armored housecat, either. She smashed to the ground, the cat beneath her, and its steel spine shattered under her weight. She rolled away, crushing the one attached to her arm. It didn’t shatter like its brother, but it was shaken free. She rolled away, and when it leapt again, she was ready. One fist smashed forward, catching the thing right in its jaw. Armor of pitch black met gleaming steel. The armor on her fist was scored, scratched, but the thing’s steel teeth shattered. It backed away, but she was having none of it. Engines screaming, she leapt again, both feet coming down on its mechanical skull.
Leigh registered the distinctive ‘ka-chunk’ of the Bertha’s siege gun slotting into battery. Without thinking, she spun Glacis between herself and the mechanical spider. The siege gun roared, and the Centrals’ own weapons destroyed the last of the big mechanical cats. Glacis shuddered under the impact, throwing her to the ground, but it held.
The Bertha backed up, trying to escape the field before Capricious could right herself. It had forgotten they weren’t alone on the field. General March’s guns fired, twin guns alternating pounding shots into the refractory armor of his hulking foe. Capricious shook herself free of the clinging remains of her attackers. Leigh cleared Ipapa’s lock, and a bar silver lightning flashed out, connecting the gun and the Bertha. It stumbled, staggered, and fell to the ground.
Before it stopped twitching, Leigh activated the crystal device connecting her to the General. Moments later, the chime sounded, followed by his voice.
“Why did you hold off so long with that gun, Abrams?”
“They don’t know about it, sir. This way they still don’t.” Leigh had plucked that tidbit from the center of the shining crystal edifice her mind became under fire, and she knew it was as right as when she first made the decision. The general’s confirmation was just unneeded praise. “Excellent work, Abrams. Return to base for repairs.”
“The Line needs me, sir. They’re going to breach within six hours.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t make it there combat worthy?”
“I just thought of a way, sir.”
“Tell me this isn’t a forlorn hope.”
Leigh’s voice remained cold and flat; indignation didn’t touch her any more than fear. “It’s not, sir. Do I have permission to reinforce?”
“Can you hold until sundown?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go, I’ll…”
She was gone before he could finish his sentence.
***
Sebastian lay half in the remains of a trench, one foot braced against the far side. One at a time he serviced targets, walking the fire of his remaining Mechanicals from right to left. In the middle distance, the remains of the first Bertha lay smoking. The 54th didn’t have proper howitzers, but their field guns were second to none. When the Bertha destroyed Shaw’s command post, Point Golf and Point India took that as their cue to open fire. Six batteries of Napoleons and one battery of rifled ten-pounders coming from the sides squashed the mechanical spider like a bug caught between two bricks.
The next Bertha to emerge had been more cautious, and traded fire with the soldiers at Point Golf. Without surprise and a flanking shot, it was a losing fight for the 54th. The longer they held the enemy back, however, the more Immortals Sebastian piled up. A round ricocheted off a spent mechanical mine in front of him, and he set his Mechanicals to fire without his direction and ducked back into the trench.
He keyed his one remaining crystal device and spoke before the chime indicated it was ready. “Receiving device, this is Captain Cole at Point Hotel. Our observation tower has been destroyed, and we are under assault by an estimated division of enemy Mechanicals. Send reinforcements as soon as practicable.”
Sebastian had lost the identifying cover for the device, and it had taken a bit of jury rigging to get it to function at all. Somehow, he was completely unsurprised to hear General Shaw’s nightmare whisper replying to his call for reinforcement. “Cole. Did I or did I not order you to hold The Line?”
“You did, sir.”
“Reinforcements will arrive at nightfall.”
“Sir. I’m not sure if we can hold that long, but we’ll certainly die in place trying.”
“An excuse is a lame horse, Cole. Hold until nightfall. Shaw out.”
Sebastian shut down the crystal device and swore quietly yet vehemently for a solid minute. When he finished, he leapt up out of the trench in a single leap, landing flat on his belly, his gun sending his rage downrange.
***
Leigh looked down on the tanker car. A small, sane part of her gibbered at the thought of what she was about to do, but crystal and light beat that part down. “Mother, how is your sense of balance?”
“Daughter, my balance was always exquisite. I now have four flywheels and twin gyroscopes to augment it.”
“Shoulder the tank and bring the car.”
She reached down, pushed her hand under the semi-solid tank, and lifted. It stretched, but kept from ripping, barely. The locks connecting the flatbed car to its mates were refractory. Iklwa sliced them off, and the car dangled from the same hand that held the great spear.
“Where are we going?”
“The Line, mother.”
“How will we be getting there?”
“Give me control a moment?”
“Of course.”
Leigh walked them forward past the rest of the train. When she had a stretch of clear track, she set the flatbed back on the tracks. It was just over ankle high on them. She stepped on, and the flatbed groaned, but held.
“This will work.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
Leigh didn’t notice the sarcasm in her mother’s words. “Can you do it?”
In answer, Capricious lowered her right foot to the ballast beneath the ties and shoved off. She was right, her balance was perfect. Her engines screamed, her leg pumped like a piston, and in seconds they were flying along the track at speeds no locomotive had ever contemplated.
“Next stop, The Line.”
***
The area in front of Point Hotel was a smoking ruin, the snow pounded into mud by the passage of hundreds of Immortals, the mud baked into hardpan by those same Immortals burning. They’d reached Point Golf not long ago, and Sebastian learned what the tanks on their backs were for. Each one had a built-in naphtha thrower. The soldiers fought fiercely, but the fire broke them. They’d fallen back to the reserve trenches.
When the Immortals tried to follow, Sebastian cut them down. Without Point Golf, he was exposed on one side. His Mechanicals paid the price, and soon he would pay it as well. Something landed in the mud beside him. The young soldier from the chapel, Dietrich, carrying a half dozen crystal devices and a much-needed ammunition can. When he spoke, his English halting, accented heavily with echoes of Germany.
“Kapitan! We beat them back to south! Marines helped. To North we fight still. More Turks here than anywhere.”
Sebastian surprised himself when he maintained the affected disinterest in his voice. “Thank you, Dietrich. Please ask the troops from the Southern Points to secure their positions and let them know we have been gifted with more targets than we have bullets. If they have any to spare, that would be stellar.”
***
Capricious raced along the tracks, the scenery beside her a blur. She leaned into a curve, taking it on two wheels, the others slamming back to the tracks when the rails straightened. Her Engines guzzled their new fuel, replaced as fast as she could use it. The tanker was less than half empty, even with the loss from half a hundred small rents across the surface of the thing.
“Mother! Stop!”
Capricious looked down at the brakes of the rail car, then at her hands. A moment’s consideration of the blurred landscape removed that possibility. Shrugging, she leaned back, one foot pushing the back of the train car into the rails. Sparks flew, but the car stopped in short order.
“Why are we stopping, Daughter?”
“South by SouthEast, thirty degrees above the horizon.”
Capricious looked where her daughter indicated. There, silhouetted against the sky, she saw a massive airship. The icon on the rudder was complex, but distinctive. A shield, a seated man on the right, images of birds and wings on the left and surrounding the shield. Crowns above the shield, surmounted again by birds and wings.
“Gotten a good look?”
“I’ll be able to recreate it. That’s how they’re getting past The Line. Can you hit it?”
“Not reliably at this distance. Shall I try anyhow?”
“No. Let’s keep moving.”
***
The wheels rattled when they hit the end of the line. They leapt from the car, catapulting themselves over a hill, landing behind a demolished tower. Two Bertha mechanicals stood just beyond the tower, back-to-back, their guns hammering to either side.
Leigh lost the signal from Sebastian’s device ten minutes earlier. Fright for him had long since transmuted itself to rage, joining with the fury the Centrals had unleashed with their attack. All of that skittered around the outside of her mental palace of crystal and light. The two Command Mechanicals turned to face her. With two words, she outlined her plan to Capricious.
“Iklwa right.”
The great spear lanced out. It wasn’t properly designed for throwing, but her Engines howled and the spear flew true. The great siege gun, just lining up on Capricious, was thrown back into the body of the spider, exploding as it dismounted. Leigh took the other with Ipapa. A bar of silver light speared out, and the big Mechanical twitched. Its gun fired, but no one remained alive to aim, and the shot flew wide. Blood ran from the scuppers as the two Mechanical spiders collided, collapsing in a tangle of legs.
Leigh’s rage had transferred itself to Capricious. Someone had hurt her daughter by proxy, and now tried to hurt her directly. The shining silver and gold Mechanicals shattered under her armored feet. After the second one burst into flames, she began picking them up and throwing them. Her Engines roared, and she savaged the Immortals in their gold and silver armor. Within moments she’d broken through their line and was in among the Turkish officers and human infantry.
Their fire lanced up at her, and satchel charges arced her way. She gave them no more mercy than they’d shown the 54th. She leapt back, recovered Iklwa, and began reaping. Men and machines died by the score, and she was the scythe of the Angel of Death.
On and on they came, guns firing, charges flying, flames licking at her. Bit by bit, they wore at her. Another Bertha mechanical arrived from the North, punching a hole through her shield and denting her chest before she killed it. The satchel charges, insignificant individually, hammered at her legs again and again, and she limped despite the roaring of her Engines. Finally, the flames from the Immortal Mechanicals heated her exterior cherry red in places. Inside Leigh said nothing. Sweat covered her and she couldn’t cool down, but as long as her enemies approached, her fury burned.
It burned so hot she lost all track of time. All she knew was how much fuel she had. She had started full, but it she had nearly none. The fires burned so bright she didn’t notice when the horizon to the West occluded last of the sun‘s rays. Her hearing, despite the continuous thunder of guns, remained enough to hear a single, mournful bell toll from the chapel she’d passed just before she left the rail line.
From that chapel and hundreds more like it along the line, a Union blue tide swept forth. The 54th had finished their Vigil, and the Immortals were thrown back once more.
***
The moment the 54th surged past her, Leigh flipped the switches to open the great hatch that would allow her out. A full minute passed, her temper growing shorter the whole time. When she finally slid, slippery and sweat-soaked, to the ground, she immediately headed for the remains of the command tower.
Halfway there, she met more men of the 54th, these working to repair a damaged Mechanical. After watching a moment to be sure they knew what they were doing, she called their officer aside.
“Captain, do you know the location of Captain Cole?”
“No, Ma’am. I don’t rightly do. He was on the tower when it went down. If I heard right, he was still up after that, but he stopped sending out orders maybe fifteen minutes afore we heard you go by.”
Leigh’s heart froze in her chest. Running on automatic, she thanked the captain and stumbled away. Her mother’s voice tried to interrupt her grief, but she reached up and switched her earphones off. Blinded by tears, sound blocked by her muffs, she stumbled through a world of scents. The smell of burned naphtha dominated, but other smells reached her as well. Cooked earth. Burning iron. Spent ammunition. The sweet smell of pork made her stomach rumble. The smell of ice forced her to stumble to a halt and retch.
The incongruity caught at her. She blinked her eyes clear and saw a single officer standing at the base of the fallen command tower. Like the rest of the 54th, he wore the antiquated blue Union uniform, but his bore modern rank markings on the shoulder. One hand was permanently and clumsily riveted to a heavy pistol. Her sense of professionalism warred with her grief, dragging her step by step to stand behind the old soldier as he stood staring to the east.
“Sir, may I look at your hand? I think I could affect better repairs, even with my field gear.”
Her voice must have startled the general. He spun, and for a moment Leigh stood frozen in terror. Eyes like the pits of Hades stared back at her, eyes steeped in pain and suffused with fury. Leigh’s sense of Duty still compelled her, and the terror was fleeting. This man was one of hers, and he had been improperly seen to. Silently, she extended her hand, palm upward.
He tilted his head, for all the world like a bird examining a choice tidbit. He inhaled, as if to speak, and a sea change came over him. His hand lifted as if of its own accord, gently coming to rest in her outstretched palm.
“Miss Jones, I presume?”
“No, sir. My name is Major Leigh Abrams. Capricious Jones was my mother’s name.”
“General Robert Shaw. The honor is mine, Major.”
While she spoke, her hands flew. Removing the old welds was no small task, but if it hurt the old soldier, he bore it without complaint. At some point the bones were shattered, but a quick scrounge through her tool belts came up with a few lengths of reinforcing rod, trimmed down quickly to the right lengths. Tiny hinges attached the ersatz bones, and finally she used some blue acrylic to mount his mostly undamaged muscles to the new bones.
She looked up to find him staring at her, unaccustomed awe transfiguring his nightmare face. She handed him his gun, a coy grin on her face mirrored in his as he took it, spun it, and slammed it into the holster at his side.
“Major Abrams, I suspect I now know who young Captain Cole has been pining over. Let me say that if he is too stupid to betroth you, I will gladly accept your hand or your transfer, whichever I can get.”
Leigh missed the compliment entirely. Her attention had been stolen away by his mention of Sebastian. “Where is he?”
The general seemed in too good a mood about his hand to comment on her breach of protocol. “About twenty yards yonder.”
Shaw was talking to air. She sprinted down the trench, her tattered skirts flying behind her. Then he was there. Crumpled, still, his greatcoat a scorched pile beside him, but he was there. His eyes tracked to her when she came in view, going wide at the sight of her.
“Sebastian!”
His voice was weak, hoarse from too long spent screaming and breathing overheated air. “Leigh! What are you doing here?”
She stopped, wishing just for a moment that she was back in her safe cocoon of crystal and light. Only for a moment, though, because without the possibility for sorrow she also lost the possibility for joy, and when she looked on him, even ragged and battle scarred, her heart swelled.
None of that stopped her from being just a touch acerbic, however.
“I break land speed records to rescue you, and all you can say is ‘what are you doing here?’?”
The look of confusion on his face was priceless. He recovered quickly, and a sheepish grin covered the confusion. “Ah. Ungentlemanly of me not to rise in the presence of a lady, I know, but my arms and legs seem to have given out. Merry Christmas?”
“Better. Now let’s have a look at you.”
She pulled him about, hands roaming freely over him, entirely unprofessional thoughts dogging her the entire time. She let her hands do the work while her mind reveled in the warmth of him so near to her. After a few minutes, he spoke, his voice still hoarse. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but are you looking for something?”
Her words came out a touch more petulantly than she preferred, but it was all she could do to keep from screaming in frustration, both personal and professional. “Yes. I’m trying to find where the linkages disengaged, so you can stand up and greet me properly.”
“Oh. I don’t think there are any linkages damaged.”
“And you became an expert on Mechanical prostheses when?” Immediately she was overcome with remorse, her frustration was throwing her self-control to the wind. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You’d become quite the field mechanic when you were with HQ.”
“Coming from you, that’s high praise, Major Abrams.”
“Please, Captain. I’m off duty. Call me Leigh.”
“Leigh.” He said her name like the way a gourmet tasted fine wine or expensive chocolates. He rolled the word around in his mouth, tasting every sound. She found herself motionless, even her hands stilled by the sound of his voice.
“Yes, Sebastian?”
“Oh, nothing. Taking horrible advantage of things proffered in good faith, I suppose. Apologies.”
“If you apologize for that again, I will do something horrible to you. I have an excellent source of information on things horrible, I’ll have you know.”
His voice still hoarse, but his tone jovial he replied, “was that a joke, Leigh? Are you feeling all right?”
His joking tone made her smile, but his motion shifted his shirt, showing a glint of gold beneath the khaki. Leigh looked down on her beloved Sebastian, and felt heart ripped out of her chest. She loved him, she could admit that now, but he wasn’t hers. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She ripped her gaze from the confused look on his face to the war-torn landscape. It was a horrible diorama of shattered machinery, smoking puddles of oil, and hard, flat expanses of baked clay. She winced at the thought that this had once been farmland.
Sebastian’s voice startled her. His thoughts had paralleled hers, but only to a point. “It’s sad, isn’t it? Until today we had a winter wonderland for Christmas, even with the trenches. Now? It’s a wasteland again.” The divergence from her thoughts shook her, reminded her of her mission here. Her personal mission, not the one given her by General March.
She patted her pockets, realizing with a start that a good half of her personal items hung from a hook in the garage. For a moment she panicked, fearing she’d left it behind. She shook her head in denial, and an unshed glop of the cushioning jelly fell from her hair to her décolletage. The cold when it hit relieved her instantly, but now she had a different problem.
“Captain Cole…”
“Please. If I’m to call you Leigh, you must call me Sebastian.”
Her heart soared. Perhaps she had a chance? No. She couldn’t let herself hope, lest they be dashed. Still, her heart refused to stop singing, and her tongue reveled in the taste of his name. “Sebastian. I’ve brought you something, but I’ll need you to turn around.”
“I’m rather incapable at the moment.”
Frustration returned. “You said there were no linkage problems?”
“Yes. I’m out of fuel.”
“You’re out of… Oh, for the love of… Mother!”
Capricious’ voice answered her immediately. She’d been listening. Leigh would have to figure out how she felt about that, but not today. “Yes, Kay?”
“I need that fuel container.”
“It’s empty.”
“You squeezed it dry?”
“Well, no. There might be enough for a Mechanical or two.”
“Bring it over then, please.”
A moment later, the huge soft-sided container slumped to the ground next to the trench, bits of jellied fuel splattering out of the rents in the side of it. Leigh walked over, grabbed up a handful, and carried it back to Sebastian. A moment’s work and she heard the faint sound of his heartbeat in her crystal device once more.
“That should get you up and walking.”
“Isn’t that caustic?”
“Sebastian?”
“Yes, Leigh.”
“Stand up and turn around, please.”
“Whatever my lady asks.”
He turned quickly enough that he didn’t see the blush burning its way up her breast, across her face. She wasn’t a lady. She wasn’t his lady, no matter how much she wanted to be. Still, she’d done this thing, and she wasn’t going home without making her play. Reaching into her corsetry, she pulled forth a waxed paper packet. Unrolling it, she exposed a fine filigreed chain, from which dangled a single cameo encased in metallic crystal. Setting herself to rights, she coughed for Sebastian’s attention.
“Yes, Leigh?”
“You can turn around now, Sebastian.”
He did, his eyes warm as he looked down at her. He’d always been tall. She thought she might have made him a touch taller when she rebuilt his legs. Then again, maybe he just seemed taller when she was this close to him.
“Was there something you wanted, Leigh?”
Her hand reached out, the waxed paper with the locket and chain upon it. “I brought you a Christmas present.”
His expression went closed, guarded, her heart sank. “I didn’t bring you anything.”
“Please, take it.”
He did, gingerly lifting the chain, watching it unspool until the cameo spun beneath its length. “This will never stand the shock of battle, you know. Sarah’s chain is broken in two places, I had to crimp them together.”
Mention of her rival sent her spirits lower. Her voice was listless when she spoke, but she couldn’t muster the energy to do otherwise. “Oh, no. It’s only plated. The chain is armoring steel, the cover the material on Capricious’ view ports.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The same as Sarah’s.”
“I rather thought that was you. Thank you for that. I’d hate to lose her the way I lost my father.”
“Pardon?”
“Would you mind awfully if I moved her locket to the chain with yours? I think she’d like that.”
Depression warred with outraged anger. Adrenaline took its long overdue toll, and depression won. “Do as you will. A gift belongs to the recipient once given, after all.”
She turned to trudge back to her mother as she heard him sliding Sarah’s locket off its old chain, the distinctive metallic slither as it settled onto the new. She wanted to run when she heard him walking up behind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to exert that much energy. Instead, she stopped, waiting for him. He squeezed around in front of her, went to one knee. The image he presented tore at her heart, since she knew the reality wasn’t anything like what she was imagining.
“Leigh, be a dear and fix this on? I’ve got clumsy using the sleeves for everything.”
Outrage tried again, urging her to strangle him with it, but depression won out once more. “Certainly.” Her hands, her awful traitorous hands, had the chain secured in a heartbeat, and Sebastian stood once more, putting her image and Sarah’s right at her eye level, side by side. She couldn’t bear it, she tried to step past but the trench was too narrow. She looked at the ground, her only thought looking away from what she could not have.
Sebastian’s voice broke her fugue, but at first the words had no meaning. “Do you know what happened to the picture of my father?”
Her answer mirrored her state of mind. “Huh?”
“There was a picture of my father in the cover. Sarah and he thought I should take them with me wherever I might roam. They weren’t happy with me joining the service, but once the decision was made, they did their best to support me.”
“But…”
“She’ll want to meet you, you know.”
“Wha?”
Sebastian’s hand came up, covering his face. He looked away, embarrassment clear from his posture, his expression, his tone of voice. “I’m sorry. I’ve presumed again. I thought perhaps… A gift like that isn’t something my family would throw around. We don’t have much, just Sarah’s inn. I thought you might be trying to tell me something.”
Exasperation finally won through where anger had not. “I am trying to tell you something, you great dolt. But I’m certainly not going back to be your doxy.” Even as she said it, she realized that if he pressed, she might. She was completely irrational where he was concerned, and it was glorious. “Why would Sarah want to meet her competition?”
Sebastian’s eyes flew wide with shock, and he choked back whatever he was trying not to say. She lifted a hand, but before she could even decide what to do with it, he’d taken in his warm, strong hands and lifted it to his lips. “I think perhaps my father would have harsh words for me if I were to make designs on his wife.”
Leigh’s mouth hung open, but nothing could express the strange mix of elation and embarrassment that swept through her. The peal of Cap’s laughter rang through her ears. That she had an answer for. She reached up and shut her earmuffs off. While she did that, Sebastian reached down, picked up his blackened greatcoat, shook the soot off, and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Thank you, but aren’t you cold?”
Humor filled Sebastian’s voice, but that was dwarfed by the warmth of his coat about her, the warmth of his arm about the coat. “I’ve still got my uniform coat on, Leigh. Beside that, I’m neither a coward nor a cad, but the sight of you covered in gelatin might test my self-control on the latter.”
For once she didn’t blush. For once, her mother’s endless recitations would come in useful. Not here. Not today. But soon, and… Her voice filled with wonder even she could hear when she spoke. “Your father’s wife?”
“Yes, Leigh.”
“And you want me to meet her?”
“Yes, Leigh.”
Leigh leaned back into Sebastian’s warm, strong arms. When he cleared his throat, she didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes to speak. “Yes, Sebastian?”
“Shouldn’t we be going?”
“Sebastian, I’ve a five-day pass, we’ve a fifty ton chaperone, and I’ve no ride home at the moment. Unless you’re prepared to brave our chaperone and give up that claim of not being a cad, I suggest you enjoy the company as much as I’m doing.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”