Chapter 32

The Final

"Enjoying yourselves?" asked Julian Roil, placing himself in an empty seat behind Max. Max turned to greet his sparring partner. Earlier he had observed Julian sitting with some other Goths on the far side. But he hadn't seen him stand or work his way around the bleachers, until he appeared behind him.

"Certainly am," Max responded. "Never seen anything like it."

"Julian," said Wiremu and Wang together in greeting. Dickie, sitting at the far end, seemed to be ignoring the newcomer.

"Gentlemen," returned Roil. "Max, a word," he asked leaning in closer. "Are you planning to attend the Bal Masquerade tomorrow evening?"

Max, feeling like having a little more fun, stretched his legs out slowly before answering.

"I don't know Julian. I haven't entirely made up my mind. I mean is anyone else going?"

Roil looked quite shocked and then a shade offended, and then a slow smile touched his lips.

"You are joking with me. Of course you are going. Naturally?"

"Yes Julian of course I'm going. I'm a first year, all these things are still fun."

Julian nodded and stood once more, clearly having heard what he needed, but failing to completely mask the offence he felt at the jest that Max had offered.

"Well I'll keep going, just on my way to the bar. See you tomorrow evening."

When he was gone Dickie let out a loud sigh.

"Yes, Mr Peace?" asked Max.

"Oh nothing. Well, a couple of things really; first I'd bet that there are other bars closer to where he was sitting than this, and like with most things at Victoria; first years aren't ever simply invited to The Bal Masquerade. You three are the first and there will be a reason."

"Sure, we are special."

"You are the Murderer's Bay Musketeers, that's what you are."

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Max. "Besides we were invited before the raid on Wapping Point, before we were anything but Wang, Wiremu and Max. You don't like him do you?"

"Who? Master Roil?" laughed Dickie mirthlessly. "Oh, I'm sure he is just brilliant. I don't however like the whole lot of them!"

"Goths?"

"Particularly," he nodded. "But not exclusively. I don't like Classics either. Actually, that's not it."

"So, what, tell me, is it? You acted like Julian wasn't here just then, which I guess is one step better than how rude you were to him at my birthday dinner."

Dickie tapped his lips with his index finger for a moment before answering, then leaning across Wang and Wiremu, he whispered.

"The Goths and Classics have always been at each other. Each quietly vying for dominance over the other. But my listening ears are telling me that some new game is afoot. Some hint of a new presence which promises to upset the old score."

"What?" said Max in frustration. Any conversation with Dickie more than three sentences long always ended up going like this, him talking in code and seeing shadows and hidden meanings. There was a loud clang from somewhere under the bleachers, most likely one of the robots being bashed back into shape for its re-entry in the three-way final. The music from the orchestra covered the noise of many more minor operations.

"Listen," said Dickie. "All three of you. No student has seen the Lady Rowan outside of the Architecture Department in what? Months, then suddenly she is mopping blood from your face, after what? A fight with, guess who, some Classics. Then Ginger Rumbold is riding you at any opportunity he can get, but wait Julian Roil has now attached himself to you. And what is he doing? He is training you to fight!"

Max swallowed. Was Dickie trying to say that somehow he had come between the two warring factions? He could almost see his point, at a stretch. But furthermore Max also had the memory of a very recent conversation with Julian Roil where the Goth seemed to be claiming that Captain Von Tempsky had an interest in the 'unfolding of coming events and in the players caught up in them.' Could these 'coming events' be the same as Dickie's 'new presence which promises to upset the old score'? Roil had claimed that it wasn't his 'job' to tell Max, but that he would be told when he needed to know.

Is that supposed to be reassuring?

Despite his misgivings, which also included second encounters with both Rowan and Ginger, which he hadn't shared with Dickie, Max minimized his friends concerns with a flippant;

"You and your listening ears."

But Dickie wasn't ready to be turned aside so easily.

"I once offered you the gift of my listening," he said, and Max recalled the conversation months ago in the Revolution Industrial. "I did this as any friend would, when I saw that you were in danger without it. Now give me a moment longer, if you will, for a little demonstration. Half an hour ago you stood over there and talked to... you didn't know who... but turns out to be Miss Rebecca Salasor, daughter of the editor of the Murderer’s Bay Argus, herself an aspiring journalist, thus always on the hunt for a good story. What did you talk about? About How you weren't one of the Murderer's Bay Musketeers..."

"What! I told you all that!"

"Of course. Max I'm not trying to say I have super-hearing powers, but that I both listen and hear. It's not the same thing. Anyway, you then came over here and repeated the phrase Murderer's Bay Musketeers. So that was twice. I've said it once just before, again just then and a third time in giving this example. Five times in the last half hour that potentially dangerous title has been applied to you. Now would you say that if Alistair Steward could link you to that title and thus the grounding of his prize ship, he may well... how shall we put it? Skin you alive?"

"It fits with what you have told me of his character."

"So Max, right now, where is Captain Alistair Stewart?"

"How should I know!?" snapped Max, a little surprised at the seemingly random trail that Dickie was lending him on.

"I could tell you. But let us try something easier. Where then is his friend Gilbert Lavisham?"

Max nodded to the stands on the opposite side of the arena.

"He is sitting over there with his Daddy."

"Very good. He is also in direct line of sight with Captain Alistair, who as it turns out, is sitting six rows behind us! No don't look!"

"How do you know that?" demanded Wiremu.

"Because I have learnt to listen and hear." The three friends looked blank at that, so Dickie continued. "It is largely thanks to that lady there..." he pointed out a women two rows down and a little to the left. "...it appears she possesses both a rubber neck, so to speak, a weak back and a nervous disposition. She spotted the good Captain when she stood to stretch that back, after the first round. Maybe she isn't as gentile as her fine dress suggests and she has suffered the misfortune of an encounter with Stewart at some other time, maybe she has just heard the stories, either way she isn't keen to have any future contact with him and has chewed on her friend's ear to that end for half the night. That friend has also taken a look, she has told the first to be quiet, as the Captain has at least half his crew with him!"

All of them were quiet then. They got Dickie's point. Finally, Max spoke up.

"What are you asking of me?"

But Dickie wasn't finished.

"One more thing. Gilbert has his Daddy sitting on one side. But who is that on the other?"

Max peered across at the stern looking gentleman seated on Gilbert's right. He wore a high top hat, which shaded two small black eyes and a wild beard of black whiskers.

"I have no idea," he answered after a moment.

"That my young friend is Charles Heaphy."

"The explorer?" asked Wiremu at once.

"The explorer," confirmed Dickie. "And the soldier, artist, politician, and not least of all the Grand Master of the Guild of Merchants and Gentleman Adventurers."

"Oh," said Max, scrutinising the opposite anew. The Men's Club.

"That's right," added Dickie. "I see you have at least heard of them."

Max nodded and said again;

"What are you asking of me?"

Dickie sighed.

"Nothing new. Just that you try to read the story between the lines, or more to the point, the story behind the apparently random events that are happening to you. Be a little more open to things not being as they seem to appear."

"Alright."

"And just ask if you need any help."

"Alright, I will."

"And stop acting like I'm an idiot whenever I talk."

"Ok. Sorry."

"And now Ladies and Gentlemen," shouted Milligan, flinging his arms wide. "The Final." The Weta, Cuchullain and The Thagomizer were arrayed at the points of an invisible triangle on the arena floor. Each had come though their own rounds as victor and were relatively unscathed, relative that is to those they had defeated. Although the lower part of Harriet's machines cockpit was still bashed in. Clearly any repairs made between rounds had been more functional than cosmetic.

"A three-way battle. Winner takes all!" continued the voice from the bronze trumpets. People cheered and leant forward in their seats. There was big money to be made on the final clash.

Max said a silent prayer for Harriet.

Steam and smoke rose, in an almost relaxed fashion, from the chimneys of the three waiting combatants. The orchestra’s big bass drum was starting to pound again and the fellow with the large brass cymbals was trembling them one against the other. Milligan had his pistol out for the fourth and final time.

"Pilots! State you’re ready!"

The three robots saluted, much as last time, and Cuchullain blasted the great carnyx on his roof. The newspapermen's big camera's flashed like lightening.

"AND BEGIN!" cried Wakefield, as his pistol rang out.

Max could hardly watch. Not that he dared pull his eyes away.

"This is it. This is it," mumbled Wiremu, to no one in particular.

The arena was strangely quiet, as for a moment none of the robots moved, and everyone held their breath. Then people started calling encouragements to their bets and the battle began.

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Cuchullain rushed forward, arms outstretched as if he desired to take both The Weta and Thagomizer in a great bear hug. The action united the other two, as, for a moment, they forgot each other and focused on dealing with the approaching giant. Harriet ran the Thagomizer wide so that Cuchullain's sledge hammer swept past her. But the Weta raced in low under the Power-Crawl and latched onto McCreddy's leg with its steel mandibles.

The Thagomizer turned and pounded back to take advantage of Cuchullain's distraction. But before it got near again, the rusting monster had reached down and pinned The Weta to the ground with its power-crawl. Then in a single action raised its sledge hammer and swung it down, like a croquet mallet, into The Weta's flank. At the impact the insect was torn from the leg on which had been working and, like a dying fly, spun end to end, skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust some distance away.

Harriet closed in with the pick-hammer raised ready to strike. But it was like Guinan McCreddy had eyes in the back of his head. When she was only feet away, his sledge hammer swung back in a reverse underarm and collected The Thagomizer right under the damaged chin. Harriet's machine was actually completely lifted off the ground and for a moment it flew a few feet back the way it had come. Landing it staggered around on wobbly legs and for a heart-beat Max feared that it was going to fall. However, composure was regained, as at the other end The Weta also shook itself back into life.

In the middle Cuchullain, named after The Hound of Ulster, the Irish warrior of legend, stretched its arms wide in self-proclamation and blasted the night with its twin horns.

"Things a beast," said Wang. Max agreed. It wasn't looking good for Harriet or The Weta.

"Beauty and the Beast," muttered Wiremu absent-mindedly.

The Weta scuttled forward again, and Harriet matched its attack for a second time. But now The Weta was leaving steaming wet marks in the sand.

"Doesn't look healthy," reflected Dickie. "Boilers got a leak."

But The Weta wasn't finished yet. A few feet from Cuchullain its big back legs dug in and the robot jumped forward at its enemy. McCreddy struck down with his hammer, but missed, and The Weta smashed into his cockpit, bouncing off and scuttering away to safety. The four friends roared their approval at the hit. Then a moment later Thagomizer charged in with head down and drove it's two iron tusks deep into Cuchullain's unprotected back. Wary of the hammer, Harriet backed off quickly. Two jets of super hot steam shooting from where she had punctured something important.

"That's done em," said Dickie triumphantly. Max hoped so. "Or not," he added a moment later when the flow of steam abruptly stopped.

"What!? What was that?" asked Max in desperation.

"Some kind of self-sealing tank liner, I guess."

The Weta was relentless. But this time as it darted in and sprung, the massive sledge hammer caught it in the air and smashed it to the ground. There was an audible moan of disappointment from the spectators as the insect hit the ground, its head bouncing off and rolling away. For a split second the pilot's pale face, bruised and bloody, could be seen peering out of The Weta's smoking neck. A moment later he was gone again, as Cuchullain drew back his leg and kicked the torso, in which the pilot still hid, across the arena floor. This elicited a good many 'boos' from the crowd, and then cheers as The Thagomizer hove in, raking the larger robot with its shears and pick-hammer.

Now the two robots stood toe to toe and traded fearsome blows. Sparks flew, steam hissed into the air, iron smashed against iron. Max was certain that at any minute something would give. But what happened next, happened slowly at first. Harriet was pushed back bit by bit, by the sheer force of the giant's blows. Then when she was feet from the arena wall Cuchullain's great sledge hammer went around in a full circle, like a windmill, and again smashed up into the underside of her machine. The Thagomizer lifted off the ground once more and flew backward. It's momentum quickly arrested by it smacking into the iron panels half way up the arena wall. The robot slid to the floor, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass, to sit like an old drunk in a crumpled heap. Now, where the cover had been smashed off one of the arena lights, a flaming tongue of gas fire suddenly shot from the wall. Although the bright orange jet added more excitement to the show, it posed no real danger to either robot.

The rest of Harriet's team were pale and vacillated between shouting and covering their eyes. Tick had his fingers stuffed in his mouth.

"Get up! Get up!" Max shouted. He could see Milligan’s hand hovering over his whistle button, ready to call the match to an end. The broken Thagomizer twitched a couple of times, but it would be too late. Harriet had just managed to get her machines legs under it when Cuchullain reached down, and with his power-crawl, grabbed the Thagomizer's by its right arm.

McCreddy pulled and lifted Harriet up, right up until her robot's feet were off the ground. There Cuchullain held Thagomizer, by that one arm, and dangled it in front of himself, appearing to study it, like a monkey who had just found a new toy in its cage. Then he gave it a shake. The arms and legs hung down uselessly.

"I wonder if she is unconscious in there," said Wang.

"Why doesn't Milligan shut it off?!" demanded Max.

"Guess he doesn't want his big night to end," offered Dickie, out of the side of his mouth.

"What about Harriet's night..." Max was saying, when Cuchullain sudden lifted Thagomizer up, swung it around and tangled it in front of the raging gas flame. "He'll cook her alive!" shouted Max in horror. But the point didn't need to be stated, as everyone in the audience was on their feet, shouting. The noise was incredible.

Come on Harriet, Come on!

Black smoke from burning joint grease was pouring off The Thagomizer as the flame blasted it away. Milligan’s hand, having delayed too long was slowly coming down... down... ...when the Thagomizer's own arm shot up, the Steam-shears gripping the limb that held it tight, and for a split second the shears bit and twisted at Cuchullain's wrist. Before the great power crawl sprung open again and The Thagomizer dropped back to its feet.

That Harriet had managed to sever McCreddy's hydrologic line was plan to see by the gouts of precious black oil that shot into the air and painted the arena wall.

"Don't waste that," muttered Dickie. A second later the night air was lit by a massive orange conflagration as the squirting oil contacted the gas flame. People closest screamed and rocked back in their seats, heat and flames transforming their faces into masks of terror. But McCreddy cut off the flow before any harm was done and turned Cuchullain to pursue the staggering Thagomizer.

On shaky legs Harriet tried to flee, to find a space to regroup, but the great sledge hammer smashed into her back and The Thagomizer collapsed face down in the sand!

The noise of Cuchullain's carnyx blasts was matched by the triumphant cries of those who had, from the start, placed bets on the madman. They had just made a small fortune!

Those who hadn't, retook their seats and sat in silence listening to Milligan’s whistle and the sound of the hanger doors rolling up.

But Cuchullain hadn't finished. As had become his custom in the last rounds he moved to give his lifeless victim a kick.

"Leave her alone!" shouted Max.

"Look!" said Dickie, pointing at the corpse of The Thagomizer and the pool of dark water that spread like blood around it. "The boilers ruptured. It's... it's going to boil her alive!" This time even he looked worried, his usual understated dryness gone. The friends were back on their feet.

"Someone get her out!" yelled Max in desperation. "Someone get her out!" But no one was moving down on the sand and Harriet's team’s hanger door was still only half way up. Max was getting frantic, and Dickie had even run down to the rail, as if he might spring into the arena below and intact his own rescue mission. Max joined him there, but the jump was too high, inviting only broken ankles.

Right then there was a blast of super-heated steam, Max felt his stomach lurch... and Harriet shot out of the top of The Thagomizer's fallen cockpit to skid along the ground. Now her ejected body lay motionless on the sand before them all.

"No!" screamed Max, and many others, as Cuchullain, hammer held high, crawl arm hanging limp, stepped over the wreckage and advance on the still form. Then, without pause, the brutal weapon came down. But at the last Harriet rolled, and it cleaved the earth where she had lain a heartbeat before.

Now she was on her feet, running. Limping at first then sprinting. If the volume of the crowd could have saved her, then she would have been lifted from the arena by angels. Instead, The Hound of Ulster pursued her and she was on her own.

Tick and the other's had their hanger door up, but her leather boots did not carry her toward their beckoning arms.

"Madness," groaned Dickie, as Harriet suddenly changed tact and dashed back toward her tormentor! Max risked a look back up at Wang, who had his face covered with his hands and was peeping between his fingers. Wiremu was pointing and jabbing something incoherent. Harriet charged on, the shock of the massive hammer landing next to her almost knocking her to the ground again, but she kept her feet and shot between Cuchullain's legs. Not to reappear out the other side, but to catch something, and swing up and land on the monster's back, and climb, climb right up to the top, between the bronze trumpets.

Cuchullain turned abruptly, looking for the girl with red hair and not finding her on the ground. Milligan was still blasting his whistle and shouting through his speaking set. Harriet was clinging on for her life and turning a small wheel lock on the top of McCreddy's cockpit. Everyone saw her finally throw the hatch open, reach in and retrieve... something... a fur hat, which she cast to the ground at once. Then her fist come up, and punched down, once, twice, three times.

Cuchullain's other arm dropped to its side. Harriet clung to the rim of the man hole. Cuchullain's knees went next, then like... like a dying thing it crashed, face down, next to The Thagomizer. The Fury on its back went with it. Fell, tumbled, rolled, stood, walked and then collapsed, into the arms her team mates as they ran across the sand to meet her.