Ethinium's Vault (Steam & Aether Book 1), page 39
The soldier he addressed, a short sandy-haired fellow with a pugnacious nose, laughed in his face.
“You hear that, lads? This fellow thinks he took out a Darhaven metal man!”
A few of the soldiers walked up to the roadblock, grinning ear to ear.
Rip sighed.
“Look, I want to apologize in advance, but I really don’t have time for this. I’m a Venture Society member, and you can take up any complaints with them. Okay?”
The sandy haired soldier frowned now, trying to process everything Rip had just said.
Before he could respond, Rip used [Vampiric Speed] and blurred past the road block. He snapped back to normal speed 30 feet away, but everyone was still looking at the place he used to be. By the time they turned around, he had already traveled several more feet, running straight for the battle line.
The sandy haired soldier let out an angry yelp and made to go after him. One of the others stopped him.
“Let him go, mate. If he really is RVS, he knows what he’s about. If not . . . well, it ain’t our fault iffen he gets himself killed.”
Rip ran up to the soldiers behind the tanks, still maintaining a steady shelling of the robots. The men had their rifles out and turned his way as he ran up.
This time he was ready, though, and he held out his badge.
“RVS! Hold your fire! Who’s in charge here?”
The men lifted their guns and as one they pointed to a dapper gentleman wearing a red beret and a plaid kilt.
“I’m in charge,” the man said, stepping forward. “Major McDougal. What’s this about?”
Rip jogged up to the man and said, “Major, hold your fire. You’re going to run out of ammo and then these things will walk all over you. Look, they’re already getting closer.”
Indeed, the two robots stood up once again and moved forward several more steps before another tank fired at them.
“What? Preposterous. We’ll shell the ruddy blighters into oblivion.”
Rip bit his tongue in irritation.
Officers. What do they know?
“Look, sir, we’ve got to actually damage the robots first before your explosives will have any effect. You’ve got to pierce their hulls, then you can take out the insides. Trust me, I’m on Colonel Sharp and Colonel Bixby’s team. We disabled hundreds of these things down in the vault today. You’ve got to damage them first. Let me at least try to put some holes in one before you run out of shells. I’ve still got some enhanced ammunition left.”
The major stared at him for a moment, and Rip wondered if anything he said registered with the man.
Finally, McDougal said, “I say, Colonel Bixby? I served under him in the Zanzibar affair. Splendid chap. Very well, if this is the way he campaigned against those confounded contraptions, I’m willing to let you have a go at it.”
He turned back to his men and began yelling out orders.
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“How is that little pea shooter going to make a whit of difference, mate? That’s what I want to know. I mean, compared to our gun, that’s practically nothing.”
Rip smiled but did not look down at the soldier driving the lead tank. Right now, he stood on top of the vehicle, near the cannon turret, aiming his Webley at the two advancing robots.
“Ever heard of enhanced ammunition?”
“What’s that? No, mate. Never heard of such a thing. I know they enhance people, those crazy boffins. But I’ve never heard of enhanced ammunition.”
“Well, it’s one of the few things that can penetrate enhanced metal. Although, at the .45 caliber level, I can only dent the armor on those guys. But, I can pop out their eyes. If they get their hands out of the way, that is.”
He frowned at the bots, who had seen him. They both advanced with one hand in front of their faces.
“Somebody must have programmed that in.”
“What’s that, mate?”
“Never mind. Shell them again, and I’ll try to hit them after they get knocked down.”
“Right. Hold on, mate. You’re going to want these.”
The driver tossed him some leather earmuffs. Rip caught them in the air, smiled his thanks, and put them over his head. Then he stepped off to the side on the large flat top, moving as far from the cannon as he could. He crouched down to grab hold of one of the handles on top of the tank, and held his other hand on the earmuff closest to the turret.
The gunman inside hand cranked the turret a couple notches, lining up another shot. Then the big cannon belched out a shell. A second later it blew up in the middle of both bots, knocking them down like bowling pins.
A wave of heated air swept over the tank.
They have almost gotten too close, Rip thought.
He stood then, and lined up a shot carefully. The first bot sat up, and turned its head toward the tank. Rip fired, popping out an eye.
The robot stood up, moving remarkably fast for all its size, and immediately shielded its face. Rip turned to the other one, but it was already standing, also with a protective hand up.
“Knock them down one more time.”
“Right. But I must say, we can’t aim the big gun much lower.”
“You’ll just need to do it one more time after this. Back up if you have to, or have one of the tanks behind us fire.”
The driver grimaced, but said nothing as the gunman lined up another shot.
This time when the bots went down, they finally saw something give in the one Rip had shot. Smoke leaked out of the broken eye. It remained motionless this time.
“He’s out.”
Rip carefully lined up another shot on the second bot, but it faced away from him this time.
He waited patiently. They were very close now. Slowly, the robot’s head turned to look up in the night sky. Rip waited for the machine to face him directly.
It sat up, still perpendicular from the tank. It started to rise.
Rip frowned.
Now or never, I guess.
He squeezed off a round, but it landed low, an inch below the eye. The resounding ping echoed across the street as the bullet bounced off.
The bot brought its hand up while standing. Just before it came into position to block the shot, Rip aimed one last time. He faced the eye at an angle, and could only see a sliver of the full circle, but [Weaponry] remained one of his highest skills.
He held his breath and squeezed the trigger . . . and the right corner of the eye blew out just before the bot’s hand came into place to block it.
It wasn’t a big hole, but the bullet penetrated.
That’ll have to do.
“Fire again.”
“You heard the man!”
The tank’s cannon roared one more time and a final shell slammed into the bot’s chest with percussive force, this time blowing it off its feet even before it could stand up straight.
It fell on its back, arms spread wide. Everyone watched with baited breath as the smoke cleared.
The driver said, “I don’t see smoke coming out of this one’s head, Sergeant.”
Absently, Rip noted this was the first time the man had addressed him by rank.
The machine’s torso tilted up.
Rip fired yet another round, but the robot’s hand sprang up in time, as if expecting it. The bullet zinged off into the darkness.
It stood, protecting its face, and ran for the tank.
The men inside blurted out curses. Rip heard them feed a fresh round into the cannon.
“He’s too close! Don’t fire! Back up, back up!”
The driver pulled back on both control sticks and the engine belched out a huge cloud of smoke. The treads slowly clanked backward, and the giant machine pulled itself away, but the robot moved faster.
When it came within thirty feet, a machine gunner let loose with one of the big 9-50s, but the heavy rounds just bounced off.
Rip aimed at the eyes and fired again, but the enhanced bullet ricocheted off the upraised hand.
The robot slammed into the tank with loud bang of metal on metal, making the vehicle lurch backward. Rip lost his grip and went over the side.
It slammed fists into the front of the tank, again and again, punching deep dents into the mundane metal.
The driver, a look of horror plastered on his face, increased the throttle and tried to pull away, but the bot stayed with the tank, slamming punch after punch after punch.
Then it reached down and lifted, pulling the front half of the machine off the ground.
The men inside screamed.
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Soldiers yelled and scrambled out of the way as the robot pushed under the tank’s carriage, lifting the front end higher and higher.
Rip jumped back on his feet and rushed around the side with his Webley drawn. But the robot faced the tank. Pressed up against the vehicle’s metal underbelly, it gave him no clear shot.
He used [Vampiric Speed] and blurred forward, running under the tank and jumping up. He squeezed off a round into the bot’s other eye.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment at the end of his burst of speed. He seemed to hover midair, and Rip could see the partially damaged eye clearly, just before he shot out the other one.
The robot let loose with one hand and slugged Rip in the face, arresting his momentum and knocking him all the way out from under the tank. He landed spread-eagled on his back, a bruise forming on his jaw instantly.
The bot resumed pushing on the tank, moving faster now, and the vehicle went vertical, its cannon aiming straight up in the sky just before the robot pushed it all the way over with a final shove.
The men inside screamed again, and Rip watched the driver duck inside his hatch just before everything on top was squashed by the bulk of the vehicle going upside down.
The robot turned, its head swiveling as it seemed to search for Rip or any other threats now that the tank was out of the way.
The eye he had shot from the side sparked and crackled. Rip thought maybe it still worked. When the head stopped swiveling while facing his direction, he decided for sure it still worked, at least partially.
Rip stood and raised his gun to fire, only to be blocked by the hand again. The bot clomped toward him.
He looked around, trying to think. Soldiers yelled and a few fired off fruitless rounds at the machine’s back. Their bullets spun away, not even leaving a mark.
Now that the first tank had been tipped over, Rip could clearly see the second and third ones behind it. He waved for the attention of the driver in the nearest one.
“I’m going to bring this thing back out at a distance! When I tell you to, I want you to fire your cannon at it!”
The man nodded and waved, indicating he understood. Rip jogged away from the tanks, down the street. The robot turned to follow.
Major McDougal shoved his way up to the front of the line and yelled at his men, many of whom kept shooting at the robot’s back.
“Stand down! Hold your fire!”
The men watched as Rip kept running, leading the bot back down the street and away from them. At 50 yards he glanced over his shoulder. The bot was gaining ground, metal feet slamming against cobblestones and servos whining.
It kept one hand up to cover its face, but sparks from the partially damaged eye flew out around it, giving the machine an extra-sinister look.
Rip poured on the speed, putting some more distance between himself, the robot and the tanks. The bot sped up, too, trying to keep pace.
At last, Rip stopped and turned. He made a wide arc and headed back for the tanks. The bot turned, too, and followed right behind him.
He yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Do it! Do it now! Fire!”
“You’ll be blown up too!” the driver of the second tank yelled back, a look of horror on his face.
“Do it! Shoot! Quick while he’s in range!”
“Confound it, man!” McDougal yelled up at the tank. “You heard the sergeant! Shoot! That’s an order!”
The men in the tank slammed home a shell and the gunman adjusted the turret, taking it down a notch while the driver looked on.
Rip timed the shot, and blurred away just as the tank fired. The shell hit the robot in its center mass with a loud explosion, knocking Rip off his feet. He rolled forward, dispersing momentum, and came to a stop several feet from the tanks, face down on the cobblestones.
He reached up to his ears and wiped blood away.
“He’s alive!” McDougal said. “Medics! Help that poor man!”
A couple of medics wearing white bands around their helmets with prominent red crosses overlaid on top ran out from the squad of soldiers.
By the time they reached Rip, he was sitting crosslegged in the street. He waved them away and pulled out a health potion, downing it.
“Just give me a minute. I’m enhanced, I’ll be fine.”
The medics stared down at him wide-eyed as the bleeding stopped. He pulled out a washcloth and wiped up all the blood, shoving into his ears to clear them out.
“Say something.”
“What would you like me to say, sir?”
“Oh, good. I can hear again. I hate explosions.”
“Begging your pardon sir, but how is it you’re alive?”
“It’s ‘Sergeant,’ not ‘sir.’ And I’m enhanced, I told you.”
“The robot was enhanced too, Sergeant.”
This came from the second medic, who wore a much more skeptical expression on his face.
Rip looked at him. The man acted like there was some conspiracy going on.
Maybe they’ve never seen the RVS in action, Rip thought.
Other soldiers approached now, along with Major McDougal. A small crowd gathered around Rip as he stood up.
“Yeah, well, the explosion hit him, not me. And I managed to punch some holes in its eyes beforehand. The vacuum tubes inside were damaged by the shockwave.”
“I saw you disappear before the explosion.”
Rip smiled and he wondered how common [Vampiric Speed] was as a skill.
Probably not too common. Not that it’s any of his business.
“What you saw, soldier,” Rip said standing up and putting the washcloth and empty vial back in his interspatial wallet, “was a man running for his life.”
This brought a hearty round of laughter from the other soldiers, and McDougal slapped him on the back.
“We’re happy to have you in our army anytime, Sergeant.”
“Well, thanks. But I think the king wants me here in the RVS, at least for now.”
“Right. Enough standing around, lads! Let’s get a line on this one the tin soldier tipped over and get it back up. Move along, now, there’s men inside!”
96
The Steel Comet descended smoothly to the upper deck of the Carlyle Aerodrome, its dangling ropes catching on the platform’s winches.
Its forward momentum halted just as the thrumming of the propellers stopped.
Powell glanced over at his fuel gauge and frowned at the needle, now pointing well below a big red “E.”
“Going to be a right tear-jerker restarting those engines,” he murmured to himself.
The twins, nor anyone else in the O’Reilly family, heard him. Abigail and Allison were too busy jumping up and down, their shoulder-length hair flying in all directions.
This upset their nurses, who had spent considerable time grooming the girls, but no one paid the older women much attention.
Powell stood up as the airship smoothly slid toward its hanger, from the outer edge of the aerodrome to the inner.
He walked up the short steps to the passenger area, where the O’Reilly’s stepped back and let him pass.
“I’ll find some biters and have them take your luggage down to the street, sir. But I’m afraid I have to report to the Air Warden immediately, in light of our encounter up there.”
“Indeed, quite understandable. Don’t worry about finding someone, I’m sure we can round up a strong back on our own. You go and make that report, there’s a good chap.”
Lady Olivia said, “Oh! Isn’t that the Air Warden’s ship over yonder? Look, it’s all lit up. Do you suppose they’re going out after those ruffians you marked?”
Powell turned and looked out the passenger windows. Another airship slid out in the opposite direction, from the hangar area in the center toward the edge. This one had a golden crown painted in the middle of its rigid gasbag.
“Aye. I suppose I should head that way to make my report.”
“Perhaps I should go with you, Mr. Powell. I am an MP, after all.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Lights brightened the outside of the Steel Comet as they slid into the hangar area and smoothly came to a stop. Without another word, Powell opened the door and stepped out, heading straight for the Air Warden’s ship nearby.
O’Reilly followed him.
Over his shoulder he said, “Stay here, Olivia. I’ll return forthwith.”
Before Olivia could respond, Abigail said, “I’m going with them!”
Allison said, “Me, too!” and the girls slipped out the door before any of the women onboard could stop them.
Olivia glanced at the two nurses, who looked back at her with shocked expressions on their faces.
“Well, it looks like we’re all going to visit the Air Warden’s ship now, doesn’t it?”
She led the way out the door, with the nurses trailing behind her.
The women followed the men. Spotlights from the center of the giant tower shone on the royal airship, illuminating the platform. Men in uniform scrambled aboard carrying guns, ammunition and explosives.
A uniformed officer evidently in charge turned around and watched the procession heading his way. He recognized the pilot as the man approached.
“Are you the one who marked those fiends, Mr. Powell?”
“Indeed, I am, sir.”
The man shook Powell’s hand warmly.
“Fine job. I expected no less, a man of your reputation. When I heard they had been marked, my money was on you at the start.”
O’Reilly walked up at that point, and Powell turned to introduce him.
