Chapter One:
A New Dawn
Let us leave that world now. Back out of the cavern, to the still surface and then upwards seeing the ground roll out beneath us, until we see a clear line between the light side and the dark side. Higher and higher still, until it’s not possible to go any higher since there’s nowhere to fall back down to. That world has become a fuzzy brown ball hanging in front of a pitch black cloth. It then disappears behind a far larger sphere whose fiery surface bubbles a bright red. At over one thousand times the size of the planet, you might think it can’t possibly get any bigger than this. But you would be very, very wrong; that’s nothing. We go further still, until that star has been obscured from view, becoming lost among the millions of tiny grains that surround it.
This is The Galaxy, to some one of the most awesome machines ever constructed. Like an intricate clockwork mechanism, Moons circle Planets, Planets go round Suns and Suns all orbit around a great mass at the centre of The Galaxy; over two hundred billion of them. And yet even this galaxy is small compared to some of the five hundred billion others in the Universe. But for now we’ll stay with this one and focus our attention on a little cubic section of it in the top right corner, containing about one thousand stars. This area of space is dominated by The Silver Republic, humanity’s first attempt to rebuild an interstellar empire after the great ruin at the end of the gold age three thousand years ago. Few alive today have any idea what caused it, but over a period of about five hundred years the lights of human civilization that had spread itself amongst the stars slowly blinked out. Although not entirely; The Republic retained some of the knowledge and means to begin reuniting the people’s separated by vast gulfs of space. Although whether they do this to benefit all humanity or just themselves is a somewhat disputed matter.
In any case, The Republic’s Star Engines tunnel their way through the emptiness of space connecting the myriad of worlds that now fall under its banner. From the choked atmosphere of their factory home world, Epis, and it’s moon Charin, to the cloud cities of the resort planet Endro. From the arid deserts of Rysir, to the abyssal depths of Tria. But not all worlds have signed up with The Republic; at least not yet. One such world is a damp, snowy little planet called Pheia, which since first contact a century ago has so far remained independent. The Republic’s influence is still felt here however; their arrival triggered an industrial revolution here, and many of it’s more enterprising factions have already set up shop here, servicing the elite and most importantly rich people of Pheia.
As we zoom in closer to that world, we will notice a thin black line winding across the white landscape like a child’s scribble. Move in closer, and we see a machine, like a mechanical dragon, belching out columns of steam as it stutters up the track. Inside one of the segmented parts that make up it’s very long tail sits the man we have come all this way to see, although he doesn’t seem like anyone special at this point. Although he combed his brown hair that morning, it’s still a bit untidy, and he hasn’t shaved for a few days. His clothes are old and although he has managed to dress somewhat tidily he clearly hasn’t paid much attention to current fashion or style, although it probably worked for some people who would call it bohemian.
Chauncey Delainy gazed dreamily through the window of the dusty carriage (everything on Pheia these days was dusty), watching the world rush by. It was an endless expanse of snow, interrupted occasionally by a bit of green and some animals which clearly needed to devour every bit of green they could find out here. His gaze drifted upwards, where he was sure he’d seen a shooting star; maybe a Star Engine entering the atmosphere.
If home was where the heart is, then his had always been out there among the stars, ever since he was a small boy and became fascinated by those great machines. Unfortunately his dreams of actually going there hit a hurdle when he failed to become rich enough to own a continent. As he continued to gaze, the white fields started to give way to mills and factories darkening the sky with their huge plumes.
“... Of course, it was different when I was young,” a well-to-do old gentlemen sitting next to him said. Chauncey’s acquaintance with the old man had begun when they had both boarded the train two hours ago, and would end soon when he disembarked. He didn’t even know the fellow’s name, but still for some reason he insisted on talking, his tall top hat resting on his lap. “It was a lot less dusty then; didn’t have all these trains and chimneys and smog.”
“I’m sure,” Chauncey’s brow furrowed.
“I hear it’s very dangerous in those factories; lot of fatalities every day, they say. It’s all rather tragic, although I’ve never been inside one myself. Someone of my standing couldn’t possibly be seen dead in such a place.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made in the name of progress, I suppose.”
“Sacrifices?” The younger man’s face flared suddenly.
“If we to join the great worlds of The Republic, sir, then yes. That is what we wish, after all.”
“I would not make such bold assumptions about it is we wish, sir. After listening to you drone for the last two hours what I wish most of all is for you to shut your red crumpled face, sir. Even though I acknowledge that sometimes sacrifices are inevitable, to make those sacrifices without proper understanding of the risks is foolhardy at the very best. To bring about so much change so fast to a society where ignorant, pompous little scrotums such as yourself are inexplicably still entrusted with the supervision of such matters is nothing short of nincompoopery, sir. Also,” Chauncey paused his rant as heard the screeching of grinding metal and the whine of the locomotive’s whistle, “I believe this is my stop. Good day to you, sir.” He nodded politely as he stood.
“Good day to you as well,” the older gentleman politely nodded back, “I must say however that I don’t know what brought on your sudden hostility, sir, but I’ve never been so insulted.”
“Perhaps if you were as good at listening as at talking, sir, that would not be the case. Fare thee well.”
--
Finally... free at last...Chauncey stood on the platform with his little suitcase tucked under one arm, breathing in the air. Unfortunately the old man was right about the smog constantly being belched from the thousands of chimneys in The Capitol, and he suddenly felt very nauseous again. Add to that the damp that permeated everything, and the city was not a good place to be if you suffered from any bronchial condition. Which looking around at all the people who were bent over from coughing and wheezing fits, most of the inhabitants did.
He wrapped his long, brown coat tightly around himself and made his way through the station, showing the guard his ticket, and then exiting and finding himself at the top of the fifty stone steps that led down to the street. Even through the smog he could make out the tops of row upon row of brick houses and other buildings, almost every one of the with a little column of ash rising high above it, spreading and then descending to mingle with the scent of burning oil and of the baked and fried good being peddled at various stalls in the street in front of him. Fish and seaweed was the staple diet of most Pheians. There was also a lot of traffic; mostly horses and carts still, but they were gradually losing the battle with the new mechanical contraptions that honked and zipped past them.
There was a lot of pedestrian traffic too, much of it filing out the gates of the station at the same time as Chauncey. One in particular caught his eye, although apparently not anyone else’s. A young woman was hesitating at the top of the steps, trying without much success to try and find some way to balance her three bags, which were each almost half the size of her and had been dumped just outside the palatial railway station by a rather thoughtless porter, and the pram containing her child in order to try and get them all down the steps safely. The logical thing to do of course would be to make a couple of trips, but anything she left alone around here for even a second would probably be nicked. Throngs of people passed her by, all heading in the same direction since there was no other direction they could be heading, but all deliberately failed to notice her – of course, that made sense; clearly they all had jobs that were so important that all of reality would implode if anything delayed them for even a second.
Chauncey sighed wearily; if this is what it had been like before The Ruin, then maybe there was some karmic force at work in the universe that had given humanity what it truly deserved.
“It’s nice to see there are still a few real gentlemen left,” the woman smiled sweetly moments later as she guided the pram down the steps while Chauncey carried her bags. “I’ve had to come to the city for work, you see. Life ain’t easy out in the country no more; especially now I got little Louise here. Tried going to The Church for help, but they didn’t wanna know ‘cos Louise is a bastard, see? Bit like her dad.”
“Life’s one long pain in the arse, isn’t it?” He mumbled, not really listening. He’d offered her a hand, but that didn’t mean he was interested in her life story. He certainly had no interest in being thanked or applauded for doing something that at least sixty other people should have done.
“I reckon she’s going to be an artist or something some day. She’s always got this kind of dreamy, far off look in her eyes, see?” The woman leant forward slightly and began to garble her speech for the benefit of the baby. “Whatcha you looking at, eh? You see a pigeon or something? Something up on the roof? There’s nothing there, silly!”
“Could be glaucoma,” he remarked snidely, and then bit himself because there was a chance it actually could be. It was her fault though; why did people insist on talking like this to babies? Did they imagine the infant had any more chance of understanding them if they gargled as well? Surely the baby would learn faster if you spoke properly to it... ah, anyway. At least there were only ten more steps to go, and the woman noticed his comment. She remained doting over little Louise until they had reached the very bottom.
“Don’t mean to be any more of a bother,” the young woman said as Chauncey put down the bags, “I mean, you’ve already helped far more than I would have hoped. I just... I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could spare money for a cab, could you?”
Ah, of course; he should have seen this coming. Lure the sap in with a helpless damsel act and a sweet smile, then grab all his money and run. Shouldn’t he be the one getting paid for this? Not that he would have ever asked to be, of course. But, there was something about the ‘unassuming’ manner in which she’d asked that he found quite difficult to resist. Besides, although he’d obviously never been one, he did have some idea of how tough it was for single mothers in the present age. He reached inside his coat for his wallet, pulling out some paper money and offering it to her.
“That should be enough,” he said, attempting a friendly smile.
“Oh! Thank you, sir!” She beamed, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” She knelt down and began rummaging through her bags. “Perhaps, in exchange, I can offer you one of these old antiques my grandfather left me. It’s probably not really worth much, but I’m sure it should cover what you’ve given me... sir?” The young woman held an old clock in her hands as she looked around blinking. The man had vanished. “Why’d he rush off like that?” She sighed, putting the clock back. She then went to put the money in her purse, and found a small business card that must have slipped from the wallet by accident. It said:
Chauncey Delainy - Science Correspondent, The Pheia Times.--
A Penny Dreadful was about all Chauncey could afford to buy from any of the traders now. He did so and went to stand in his usual spot on the corner, resting his back against the wall as he started reading further adventures of Colin The Barbarian Versus The Infinite Hordes of Infinite Darkness. It was the only one of these things worth reading; this was the four thousandth issue and, being infinite, those hordes just kept coming.
“Cheeeese!” He was startled momentarily by a flash accompanied by a small bang and a puff of smoke, and by an all too familiar relentlessly cheerful female voice.
“Why cheese?” He asked, waving the smoke away from his eyes.
“It’s supposed to make you smile when you say it,” the woman with long brown her and chocolate eyes explained. The camera she held had to be supported by both hands and by straps around her shoulders, making it much more portable than its nearest competitors on the market.
“When I say it; you didn’t wait for me to say it. It’s the person who’s picture you’re taking you’re supposed to make smile.”
“Oh... that’s where I’ve been going wrong all these years,” she said with a theatrical slap to her forehead. “Thank you so much. Anyway, this picture is ruined now because you moved. You couldn’t stay still for just fifteen seconds?”
“Fifteen seconds is a long time with you around.”
“Well never mind about that,” she said, straightening up, clearing her throat and then grinned broadly. “Hi there, Chance! Good to see you’re back!”
“Rob,” he nodded in greeting. One corner of her grin twitched a few times. Despite this long running ‘gag’ about her name, which was Robin, it was very clear that she was a woman and a very attractive one too. Not skinny at all, but plump in all the right places which showed even through her long red coat. She was also, regretably, one of his childhood friends. Despite being a couple of years younger than him, they’d lived next door to each other when they were small and practically grown up together, along with the other members of the Chase clan of whom she was the sixth or seventh child... she was somewhere around the middle anyway.
“Hmph... well, how was your holiday, then?” She huffed.
“Miserable,” he answered laconically.
“Oh, a real ray of sunshine, you are.”
“Which is precisely what there wasn’t on my holiday.”
“Well, cheer up! If Princess Caitlyn signs the treaty and we become members of the Republic, we might be able to holiday on other planets in future. And I’m certain she will, right?”
“Oh, we’ve no worries there. That foetus will sign anything The Lords tell her to,” he said, making reference to what he considered mental development to be rather than her physical.
“You can’t talk about the Princess like that!” Robin gasped, genuinely horrified.
“Well, I just did so I guess that proves I can...”
“She’s our Princess and we love her,” Robin huffed again, placing her hands firmly on her hips.
“People keep saying that word ‘we’ all the time... I wonder if anyone really knows what it means...”
As Chance was wondering that, a huge horn vibrated through the air, bricks and into the ground. It played two notes, dirrr-diiih, so loudly that they drowned out all the bustle of the traffic in the street. He and Robin had to shield their eyes as they looked upwards, as a fair amount of dust was suddenly being blown around them. It became as if night had fallen suddenly as what little light that had been reaching them from the sun was blocked out by the enormous metal cylinder floating almost like a balloon, only not at the mercy of the wind. Little red lights along its belly twinkled like stars, and then the night was over as suddenly as it had fallen, the cylinder moving on with its patrol of the skies.
“They’ve been hovering around all morning,” Robin explained as soon as the dust started settling again. “I guess trying to make sure everything is safe for when the senator arrives.”
“More likely trying to remind us that we’d be stupid not to do that ourselves.”
“Anywho,” Robin pursed her lips as she thought, “I thought you might actually be happy about all this, or at least a little excited; you used to love outer space stories.”
“When I was ten, Rob,” he frowned, “I’ve grown up a bit in the twenty years since then.”
“Which is why you’re reading Colin The Barbarian?” She laughed coquettishly.
“It’s actually a very clever satire of those old hero stories,” he informed her, eyes narrowing insistently. “Very intelligently written; great dialogue, characters... and Miranda the Minx is rather attractive. I mean, she’s not common like you.”
“Blech,” Robin stuck her tongue out.
“Yes... anyway,” Chance shook his head slowly, “The Republic doesn’t care about us. Wealth and power are the only things that interest them; the only way they’d let people like us on board those things is if we joined the army.”
“I could do that,” she beamed, flexing her bicep, “I’ve been taking self-defence classes. You we need to work on though,” she poked his belly, much to his chagrin although he didn’t bother trying to stop her. “You’re getting a bit flabby here. Come along now,” she spun on her heel and began to march.
“Er... w-wait,” Chance tucked the paper under his arm and grabbed his suitcase, hurrying after her. “We’re not actually going to sign up now, are we?”
“Oh!” She spun back to face him, finger on forehead like she was pressing a button, “that’s what I was supposed to tell you! We’ve been invited to go with Lord Helstone to greet the Senator tonight. Well, you’ve been invited, but obviously you wouldn’t to go to meet one of the richest, most handsome men in the universe without your favourite photographer, would you?”
“When do they get here?” Chance remarked wryly, and was rewarded with a chop connecting with the top of his head.
“Did I mention that he’s stupendously rich? Also, the only Pheian who owns his own Star Engine, so if you play your cards right we might not have to join the Republic’s Army after all. Hmm, you’ll have to shave, and you have got to let me do something with your hair...”
“Stop that!” He protested, batting away her hands as they attempted to fidget with his mane and bring about some sense of order to it. “Are we talking about the Lord Helstone? Hunter Helstone? Explorer, adventurer; a man whose offspring could repopulate an entire moon?”
“And rich; don’t forget that part,” she grinned, still. Chance glared at her, suddenly feeling rather flustered by the adulation that twit Lord Helstone was getting.
“Didn’t think you approved of shooting animals,” he grumbled.
“I don’t. But... he’s so rugged looking,” she said, obviously goading him now, “and so very wealthy too.”
“I’m... rugged looking,” Chance muttered, unconsciously trying to straighten out and make himself bigger.
“No, silly,” Robin giggled, patting him gently on the head, “you look like a bum.”
“But,” he deflated, not wanting to fall for it anymore, “why would he want a science correspondent to accompany him?”
“Don’t know. Maybe he read some of those editorials you write sometimes and got the wrong idea; thought you were aiming for irony rather than just actually being someone who hated the whole of humanity. In any case, it’s a good opportunity for us; we’ll have front row seats at the ceremony. Better than that, even; we’ll actually be mingling with some of the most important people on Pheia and The Republic. And Dead Ted made me promise you wouldn’t embarrass us.” ‘Dead Ted’ was the owner of The Pheia Times, so called not because he was actually a zombie, he just looked a bit like one. “Now, you must have some decent clothes to wear at your place, so let’s get moving.”
Chance seemed to have no choice but to follow her. He was mildly annoyed about this being dumped on him with so little notice, and when he’d just got back from his very miserably holiday to the coast as well. Although he’d never met Lord Helstone before, he’d already decided the man was another pompous twit and was not looking forward to spending the evening with him. But, he had no other plans for tonight other than sitting at home drinking coffee and maybe reading that book about bug-eyed, carnivorous parrots; nothing that would seem like a good enough reason to Robin or Dead Ted for him to stay at home.
“Look at that,” Robin stopped them again just moments later, nodding to the other side of street. “The Republic’s exports are already taking over around here,” she said. Chance squinted, unsure what she was looking at.
It took him a moment to notice the young woman with brown bob and a simple black dress with green collar. Other than her slightly large, slanted eyes there was one clue that this woman was not fully human; her tall, pointed ears. She was an ELF; an Engineered Life Form. Chance knew quite a bit about them; anyone could pick up a brochure from The Institute’s shop here in The Capitol. They were synthetic, biological organisms created on planet called Lepiterra, grown inside some kind of crystalline eggs attached to some kind of Mother-Machine, or so the brochure said. They made all sorts of life forms, from simple algae to help in the terraforming of planets, plants that could grow in almost any environment to these humanoids who were created as Human’s servants. They were becoming very popular amongst the upper classes on Pheia now, as they demanded no wage for their services and very little food or water. Just a one off payment to The Institute and you had a reliable slave who would serve you unquestionably for the rest of your life, and your children’s and grandchildren’s lives if they like. This one was presumably just out to do some shopping for her master.
“Don’t know if I’d feel comfortable letting one of those synth-whatsits do all my chores for me,” Robin said through the side of her mouth, “don’t know what it is, but I just don’t trust those things.”
“They seem harmless enough,” Chance shrugged, “The Republic’s had them for years; I’m sure if they thought there were anything dangerous about them they wouldn’t take them everywhere.”
“I don’t know; I just... something in my gut tells me there’s something wrong about them...”
“Oh, well, I won’t bother boring you with any facts about them, then. Not if your gut tells you something; when has gut instinct and prejudice ever been wrong?”
Robin didn’t appreciate Chance’s sarcastic tone, and turned and slapped him on the arm before they continued on their way. Unfortunately her ‘feelings’ were shared by many others around The Capitol. He continued to watch the ELF as they left, since they happened to be walking in the same direction but on opposite sides of the road. He watched as group of grimy, dirty toothless men started following her, sneering and jeering with comments like ‘show us yer tits, pointy ears’, and other such witticisms. The Elf’s face actually appeared troubled by this, but she continued about her task, not quickening or slowing her pace. Chance wondered if he’d only imagined the troubled expression on her; ELF’s were not machines, he was certain they had emotions, but are they the same as ours? How much did they think about things?
In any case, she was probably in no physical danger so long as she stuck to the main streets. With the Senator’s visit looming, officers of the law were out in force in their blue uniforms and riding caps and truncheons. Although perhaps this was a little sign of more troubles to come; ELF’s were just a little too efficient, and because of them a number of people who came to the city for work were suddenly unemployed again. Although this wasn’t exactly the ELF’s fault, the human brain being the woefully irrational, quick to judge even in the absence of any solid evidence, thing that it is would certainly find reason to blame them for it.
--
Little Louise gargled contentedly, smiling up at her mother’s face. Of course, she didn’t know to call this woman her mother; she didn’t really know any words yet. But she felt a very strong attachment and sense of familiarity with the smile, which had always been there as far back as Little Louise could remember, which was all the way to that morning. She was dimly aware that although she had been lying on her back the entire time, she had perceived movement and was now in a new place, with lots of new sounds and smells, but she was content in the knowledge that the smile would always be near to clean up her vomit. She had been sick just once, disorientated by the sensation of moving yet lying still.
“Who’s a good girl?” The smiling face said. “Who’s mummy’s good, sweet, little girl? Is it you?” Louise didn’t know how to answer that question, since she didn’t know what the question was. She was just happy that the smile seemed pleased with her; maybe she should vomit again? “Hold on sweetie,” the movement Louise perceived stopped suddenly, and her mother disappeared from sight. She could hear some sort of clips and clops which became farther apart and then halted, whatever causing them not too far away. But Louise wasn’t worried; she could still see the other face, this one with more of wide, permanent grin on it.
Louise didn’t understand why no one else seemed to notice it; that grey skinned person had been following them around all day, leaping from roof to roof and was now perched directly above Louise, it’s head tilting curiously as she looked up at it, it’s eyes like dark discs watching her back... always watching. She giggled and tried to reach out her arms to it...
“She’s such a good girl,” her mother came back, gently lifting the baby out of the pram and holding her against her shoulder. But Louise had played enough with this one; she wanted to play with the other person, the one with the long sharp fingers... “She never cries or gets frightened when I leave her alone...”
--
Chance grunted, turning the key and putting all his weight against the front door of his little terrace house. It didn’t budge.
“Who are they?” Robin asked, facing the other way. There was a park just across the road where couples liked to play on the rare days when the sun came out. But lurking and brooding around the gate were a group of youths all dressed in black attire with lots of white frilly things. They’d rubbed chalk into their hands and faces but actually they were quite harmless. They never really did anything but stand there; occasionally one of them might try to say something profound and wise, despite not actually being profound or wise themselves, and the others would all nod and then they’d all shut up for next twelve hours as they brooded about it.
“Devotees of your beloved Princess,” Chance groaned, still trying to open the door, “they’ve taken to calling themselves ‘gothics’ or some such thing. Just a bunch of kids who like to mope around feeling sorry for themselves, and wear ridiculous outfits.”
“No harm in kids trying to express their individuality, is there?”
“No... although they do it in a rather uniform manner, wouldn’t you say?” Chance grunted again, slamming his palm against the door a few times before giving up. “This stupid thing’s jammed again,” he fumed.
“All right... stand back!” Robin turned about, leaning forwards like she was about to start a race. “I’ll use my big bum on it.”
“Your... what?” Chance squinted and raised one eyebrow.
“Trust me,” she winked, and then took off, running at the door and then turning slightly, so that the side of her quite ample buttocks admittedly, collided with it. The door gave way instantly. “Ta-daa!” Robin beamed victoriously, slapping each of her buttocks simultaneously. “Ain’t nothing me and my big butt can’t get around.”
Chance thought about that for a second, and then thought better of trying to think about that...
“You are... so crude,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m impressed,” Robin inspected the hall; the paintings hanging straight on the wall, shoes lined up neatly, coats, hats and umbrellas all placed carefully on their stands. “You actually tidied the place before you left; well, this bit anyway.”
Chance was still shaking his head when he crouched down to pick up his post. Nothing interesting; bills, demands for rent, bills, was he interested in purchasing a new refrigeration device; his food could stay cool and fresh for only a modest price (although the orphan required to keep turning the handle was not included). He decided he could live without that, despite the leaflet claiming otherwise. But he noticed something else... something that actually made him pause for a moment. He had tidied before he left; he’d even dusted, out here anyway. But as was inevitable in The Capitol a thick layer of dust had returned... so whose footprints were they? Although he noticed the other tracks as well, which gave him a pretty good idea...
“I remember taking this,” Robin sighed, examining a sepia tinted photograph that had been framed and hung on the wall. It showed a slight woman with long dark and a very kindly smile, with a small cheeky looking boy who was clearly well taken of sat upon her lap. “With my first camera... that huge thing. You remember?”
“How could I forget,” Chance uttered in a hushed tone as he crept by her, “I had to sit still for fifteen minutes. Have you any idea how torturous that is for a young boy?”
“She was a nice person, your mom,” she sighed sadly, “you were a lot more fun then, too.” Robin turned around and noticed Chance treading very carefully up the hall, trying to avoid all the creaky floorboards. “What are you doing?”
“There’s someone here,” he explained quietly. Although, to be honest, he had no idea why he was sneaking; anyone inside would have certainly heard them come in. “In the drawing room...”
He slowly pushed the door open, this one offering no resistance to him. The drawing room was actually much tidier than when he’d left it; all the books had been put back on the shelves, the ashtrays emptied and that nasty coffee stain in the rug had been removed. There were also things that hadn’t been there before, like the Elf nurse and the old man in the wheel chair who scowled at him as he came in, while sucking oxygen through a mask covering his nose and mouth.
“Uncle...” Chance stated, not really that surprised that his wheel-chair bound uncle had broken into his house.
“Hello, Mister Jamison!” Robin chirped and waved.
The old man weakly lifted an arm, trying to gesture to the nurse. She leant over, turning the handle at the top of the tank attached to his wheel chair and gently removing the mask. The old man took a deep drag of real air, and then turned to Robin, fixing her with his grey eyes, and nodded.
“Rob,” he said in greeting. The corner of her mouth twitched again.
“You’re definitely related,” she hissed quietly to Chance.
“I wish... words, with my nephew,” Uncle Jamison wheezed. “Alone. If that’s... alright with you. It... shan’t take long.”
“I...” it looked like she was about to protest, but the two men with faces like bricks that appeared either side of her convinced her otherwise. They must have been waiting outside and followed Chance and Robin into the house. “I’ll... wait in the hall, then.”
“So, do what do I owe the pleasure, uncle?” Chance said as soon as he was alone with the old man and the blonde Elf girl. His voice carried a hint of bitterness; more so than usual.
“The pleasure is all... all yours, I assure you,” Jamison grinned, resting his head back.
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“Heh... you still... still think it was my fault your mother ran away from home and came here to the city?” He laughed, and then coughed and spluttered for a moment. The Elf knelt to check on him, but he waved her away. “I... I won’t deny it, lad. There was... was a time when I had my hand in just about every underhanded all across this continent. Those were good times to be a rogue. You had... had law, but... it weren’t so organised as now. Just mobs that didn’t know what they were doing... mercenaries... always open to a bribe. Your mother... my sister... she... she never wanted any part of that. But that ain’t the reason she ran.”
“Oh?” Chance said, trying to feign disinterest. He hadn’t known of any family besides his mother until a few years ago, when Jim Jamison had tracked him down and claimed to be his Uncle. His mother was no longer alive to confirm or deny anything, but the old man knew enough about her to convince Chance that he spoke the truth. And so it had bothered him since then just what could have caused a young woman to run away from a relatively comfortable life, change her name and try and raise a child on her own in the city, slaving away in factories every day until her death. He was interested in any hint, although he was certain that not wanting to be a part of a crime syndicate must have been part of it.
“I loved my little sister, boy. I... I made sure that factory that killed her got closed down,” it actually got burnt down, but Chance supposed that was one way of closing it.
“It... it sounds a bit crazy,” the old man reminisced, “but... I... I remember the night before she left. She went to this... this old tomb the locals had a superstition about. They said it was cursed. Of course we didn’t... we didn’t believe none of that nonsense. But she came running, all... all trembling, and... white as a ghost. I tried to ask what was wrong, but... she said she couldn’t say. She said... said that they said they would blind her and take her child if she ever talked. Next day she was gone... never did anything at that old tomb, though. But I... I made sure it was sealed up, and no one’s been near it since.”
“You really expect me to believe all that?” Chance arched an eyebrow incredulously.
“Don’t really care if you do or don’t, boy. It’s what happened... but... it ain’t why I’m here. I’m here because... because, much as it p-p-pains me to admit, you’re the only family I have left, and you ain’t done nothing with your life.”
“Actually,” Chance sniffed; he wasn’t going to be told his life was a waste by a notorious criminal. “I’m going to meet a Republic Senator tonight, with Lord Helstone.”
“Really?” Jamison laughed and coughed derisively. “Lord ‘Look At The Enormous Cock On My Gun’ Helstone?”
Chance would have said something back, but... that was quite funny, actually...
“Look at this place, lad... look at you. You ain’t going nowhere. You’re thirty years old and... my informants tell me... still a virgin...”
“What?” Chance’s went wide with shock, and a little panic, “how could they possibly have found that out? Er... not... not that I’m saying that it’s true, of course.”
“You waiting for the right girl to come along? Heh... or... or maybe there’s just one... one girl you’ve always had your eye on, eh? You... you just ain’t got the courage to ask her...hehe...”
“You... you don’t mean Ro...” it was all panic now, “that’s just... she’s so... so crude...”
“There are a lot cruder than her, believe me. She... she seems a nice lass to me. Pretty, too...”
“Well, you don’t have to spend every day with her,” Chance huffed, folding his arms in front of himself.
“Heh... I’m just... just teasing you boy.”
“Do you regularly break into people’s homes just to tease them?” The younger man said, and then remembered who it was he was talking to. “Actually, forget I asked; of course you do.”
“Thing is, boy, I... I don’t know if you can see or not, but... I ain’t got long. Your mother... she made it clear she didn’t want you to have no part in the... the family business. But since you are the only real family I got... I can’t go without leaving you something. Starling...”
Chance looked out the window. “I don’t see any birds,” he shrugged.
“No... that’s... that’s her,” Uncle Jamison gestured to his right, “the Elf. Starling. She’s what I’m leaving you. Maybe... maybe she can help you sort your life out...”
“Starling?” Chance was... well he just... he didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t anything he’d been expecting. He looked at the Elf; she was pretty, as they always were, with shoulder length, slightly wavy blonde hair and wide blue eyes. She was dressed just like every other Elf you saw in the city, only her collar was blue. She was smiling sweetly, like she was daydreaming or just waiting for something. “No... wait; I-I can’t have an Elf, here. I mean... me on my own, and her... people would talk, wouldn’t they?”
“Lots of folk have them do chores and cleaning now... ain’t no reason they’d think anything untoward of you now, is there? Besides, no one... no one really cares what you do with an Elf, since they ain’t supposed to be ‘real’ people... heh...”
“But I just don’t need one, here. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“Capable? Yes. But... do you? No. Not from I’ve seen looking in all the rooms here. I... I already got her to tidy all of them. “
“You... tidied?” Chance fixed the Elf with an icy stare.
Jamison reached his hand forward, ringing a little bell attached to the arm of his chair. On cue, two more of his henchmen arrived, one of them holding a book to support a document that bore on it the emblem of The ELF Institute. He thrust it in front of Chance with one hand using his thumb to hold the document down, while holding out a pen in the other. “Sign,” Jamison ordered. Chance did so without thinking about it; he still hadn’t got over the shock.
“Good,” Uncle Jamison smiled contentedly. “Starling, come here,” the Elf stepped around the wheel chair and knelt on one knee in front of him. “There’s... no point in you making a fuss of me anymore. I will... I’ll be gone soon. Do you... do you understand growing old? Death? Probably... probably not...”
“I... understand death, sir,” Starling spoke sweetly and softly, “it is when something that was is no more, and can never be again.”
“Right,” Jamison smiled warmly, like a father at a child, “I’ll be... no more. Chauncey Delainy is your master now. He’s a... a bit of an oaf, quite frankly, but I... I believe at heart he is a good person, like his mother was. He’ll treat you well... better than any of the alternatives would have, anyway.”
“I understand, sir,” she bowed her head, “serving you was a... interesting.”
“Still don’t like telling lies, huh?” The old man sniggered. He then gestured for his Human servants to come and wheel him away. “And Chance... despite what I... what I said about them not being people, I have... have grown rather attached to this one. She’s served me well for many... many years, as she will you. But if you don’t take care of her, then... my boys here have been told to bury you in cement. They... they haven’t been told you have to be dead first, and they tend to take things literally...”
Jamison and his literal minded minions were gone out the front door less than a minute later, and Robin came running back, her face full of worry.
“What happened?” She asked. “Who’s she?”
“You,” Chance still had his eyes fixed on the Elf, who had turned to curtsy at Robin. “You tidied?”
He finally managed to tear his disbelieving gaze away and began to run around the ground floor of his home, checking on every home. The kitchen and dining room; every thing all packed and put away! No... surely not his study as well...
“No!” He punched the desk. “This... this is a disaster! You’ve made a complete mess of everything...”
“What are you talking about?” Robin asked. “This is the cleanest I’ve ever seen your place... it actually looks habitable.”
“You-don’t-understand,” Chance angrily insisted, “everything might have looked a mess to you, but I knew where everything was. All my books, notes, papers... now I’m completely lost.”
“I’m... I’m sorry sir,” Starling was evidently disappointed and confused, “I was told to make everything tidy. I... I could try to put everything back the way it was, if that’s what you wish...”
“Yes!”
“No!” Robin countermanded exasperatedly. “Look... can you tell me what’s going on?”
“She’s a...a gift from my Uncle.”
“He gave you an Elf?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
“It’s a bit awkward, isn’t it? Where’s she going to sleep?”
“I don’t know,” Chance whined, feeling a headache. “You just... you don’t just refuse a gift from Jim Jamison. Not if you like having your head attached to your spine.”
“Calm down. Maybe she knows where everything is.”
“Oh, really,” he said doubtfully, “okay, Starling? Where are my notes on mass-energy equivalence?”
“In the top drawer of your desk, sir,” Starling responded happily, “In the folder I’ve marked E equals M C squared.”
Chance slid open the drawer; there were several folders, each labelled and containing notes he’d written on a variety of subjects. He’d forgot he had folders for stuff. “I see. Well, that... does all seem to be in order.”
“See? It might not be so bad to have her around,” Robin smiled reassuringly. Chance took her aside to the far corner of the study, leaving Starling standing by the door watching them curiously.
“You were the one who said you didn’t trust them,” he reminded her, whispering.
“I’ve never really been near one before,” she whispered back, “she seems okay to me. Besides, you were the one who said they were harmless and not to be prejudiced, remember?”
“I know she’s not really a... a Human woman, but... would you really be okay with me sharing a house with her?”
“Why should it bother me?” She looked up, surprised by his question. She was right, of course; why should it? “Anyway, they just don’t think like that, do they? To be honest, I kind of doubted that you did... also, have you seen her ears? I’m pretty sure she can hear us...”
They turned and looked at Starling, smiling at them incomprehensibly, or so it seemed.
“So... what do we do?” Chance asked.
“You’ll just have to keep her, I guess,” Robin shrugged, but already her mind was at work thinking of a way to turn this to her advantage. “You know... it might actually be a good idea to bring her with us tonight. Anybody who’s anybody has an Elf servant nowadays; having her there might actually impress Lord Helstone and the others.”
Of course, yes; it all came down to making a good impression on Lord Helstone, twit that he was. Admittedly, being on good terms with him might open the door for more exclusives for The Times in the future... he supposed it might not be so bad to keep things clean, tidy and organised. It wasn’t like the Elf was going to keep him awake at night by banging on drums. Of course, there would have to be rules; certain rooms would have to be off-limits to her. Really, he supposed he could think of it as just like having a pet, like a dog or some such, only useful, less smelly, and wouldn’t actually make a mess anywhere. And he had promised Uncle Jamison... well, he hadn’t, but in his Uncle’s mind he’d as good as. He supposed he would have to give the Elf a chance.
--
A few hours had passed by the time Robin had picked out a suit from Chance’s wardrobe that actually matched, gotten him to shave and, after a round of wrestling, managed to brush his hair. Then all she had to do was convince him to clean under his fingernails, and they were off.
Days in The Capitol were very short this time of year, and the sky was already darkest grey when they were outside again, Chance’s new Elf in tow. They were to meet Lord Helstone at his mansion in the city; unfortunately, Rob had misjudged the route. They arrived at the mansion, but on the opposite side to where the actual gate was and were greeted by a brick wall, twice the height of a man and with threatening steel spikes at the top, angled in such a way as to make it nearly impossible to climb over them without poking out at least something.
“See, this is what happens when you go with your ‘gut’ feelings,” Chance grumbled, “I told you we should have turned right; but no, don’t listen to the person who actually looked at the map...”
“Quit curmurring, you old curmurrer you,” she quirked, “we’ll just have to go around, is all.” Robin set off determinedly.
“Wait!” Chance gasped. “I... I don’ think you should go that way,” the back-end of Helstone’s estate bordered on a neighbourhood that had a somewhat ill fame in the city, and Robin, in her bright red dress, was heading foolhardily down a very dark and ominous looking alley, and still carrying on her chest a piece of technology that could be pawned for quite a fair sum. “It’s not safe!” He called out urgently, but helplessly; she had already vanished into the gloom.
“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. He’ll have to go and find her before anyone else, and get her to come back and go around using the main street. Annoyed by Rob’s rash recklessness, he turned on Starling. “Look,” he ordered, “just... wait here for two minutes, okay?”
“Okay, sir,” she nodded affirmatively.
The alley was every bit as ghastly as Chance had imagined. Damp and it stank of urine, probably both Rat and Human urine, and he didn’t even want to know what the puddles of green stuff were. He caught up to Robin in an area that was being renovated, with carts and scaffolds and sacks filled with sand and cement. She had evidently gotten herself lost again.
“Have you any idea where we are?” He snapped angrily, spinning her around. “Come on! Let’s get out of here before...” he paused, the corners of his eyes peeling back. “Too late,” he sighed.
Four bald, toothless men appeared from all corners of the site. The sort of men who had tattoos on their knuckles that said things like PUNC and SMAS, dropping their H’s due to a slight miscalculation in word length. As they closed in, brandishing bats, clubs and knifes, Chance and Robin found themselves pressed together. It wasn’t clear who should be trying to protect who.
“Now would be a good time to put those self-defence classes to use, I think,” Chance suggested.
“A-actually, we haven’t gotten to the lesson about being mugged yet,” she explained, her eyes widening fearfully.
“I would have thought that would be one of the first lessons!”
“We’ve been building up to it in steps; if we get attacked by a man with a piece of fruit I’ll know exactly what to do, but right now...”
“Just hand over that there mechanical contraption,” the apparent leader of the muggers said, showing them his knife so they knew he really had a point to drive home, “and any other money or jewellery you got. ‘Cos you seem new ‘round ‘ere, we’ll let you keep your shoes and boots,” the man grinned, his gold teeth glittering.
“I think we should do what he says,” Chance muttered in earnest.
“No!” Robin ground herself, clutching her camera like she was protecting her child. “This... this may just be a thing to you, but it’s my livelihood!”
“Which is no use at all without a life,” He stared daggers at her; the fool headed woman had got them into this situation in the first place, the least she could do was get them out of it still with the ability to walk unassisted. “I’ll get you a new sodding camera!” He hissed. But she clearly was not going to budge on this.
“I’m sorry you gotta be that way, lass,” the men closed in like a pack of wolves, warming up their weapons... this was it then. Instead of a nice, aristocratic ball, Chance was going to be spending the night barely conscious on a hospital bed. Still, at least Lord Helstone wouldn’t be there, so swings and roundabouts, really...
“Sir?” A quiet, soft voice suddenly called out. Chance opened his eyes; it was Starling, standing in the alley with her eyes fixed on him.
“What?” He said, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”
“It has been two minutes, sir,” she explained, holding out a little pocket watch.
“Well, well,” the head-mugger turned to direly inspect the new arrival. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing... heh... come ‘ere!” He lunged forward, attempting to grab her; but Starling was far quicker on her feet than Chance had imagined. It was almost like she vanished, and then appeared again at the man’s side, tucking her watch back into her belt.
The man turned, and tried to grab her again; the same thing happened, with Starling just standing there with her hands joined behind her back, occasionally tilting her head curiously. He tried catching her three or four more times, but each time was the same, and by then his face had turned a bright red through his growing anger and frustration. His own colleagues were even laughing at him! He stepped back a little, as if trying to formulate a new strategy. But then he just roared and charged at her like a bull. He seemed to actually catch her this time, but she twisted and his own momentum kept carrying him forward into a scaffold which came crashing down around him.
The other muggers weren’t laughing any more. They all rushed forward at once, jabbing and swinging wildly; they never ever came close to touching the Elf. She danced around them with ease. At one point one of them tried to thrust his stick at her, and she jumped around to his back stepping on the head of a shovel so that the handle came up and struck him between the legs. Other than that, Starling never really went on the offensive; in fact she had her hands clasped behind her back the entire, and Chance didn’t think an Elf actually had endless stamina.
But it was the men who tired first; or maybe it was just the realisation that they were being humiliated by some alien creature that none of them understood. In either case, they shared a look with each other, and all of them ran.
Chance and Robin blinked, not believing that they could have seen what they’d just seen although they had definitely seen it...
“I... I thought Elf’s were forbidden from harming Humans,” Robin was the first to speak. Starling approached her, smiling sweetly, arms still behind her back.
“I never laid a finger on them, ma’am,” she giggled coquettishly (she would later claim that the shovel between the legs was a complete accident as well). “Erm... I believe this is the correct route to take,” she gestured. Chance and Robin blinked.
--
Ohshitohshitohshitohshit...Jon paused to try and catch his breath. He’d lost all his companions, but at least that... that thing didn’t seem to be coming after him. It was an Elf, wasn’t it? From The Republic... he’d seen them around here but he didn’t know they could be so dangerous. And now he was God knows where and it was starting to rain again and he was bound to be drenched before he got home. It started pouring down very quick.
Heh... he should never have let Goldie talk him into this crap anyway. He should go home and get a proper job just like Gertie was always saying. Yeah... this rain was actually quite refreshing; it was helping him to see things more clearly... what –
was – that?
Up there on the roof the rain was falling on something that... didn’t seem to actually be there, and yet there was the outline of man appearing. As soon as Jon saw it, it’s head snapped to the side and looked right back at him. His heart stopped; it started moving towards him. He got the feeling it didn’t like being looked at...
Oh...
Shiiit!
He heart pounded back into life and he burst into a run. He didn’t dare look back at it, but he knew, he just knew, it was coming to get him! He sprinted up the empty alley, pounding on any door or window he passed begging for just one of them to open... but, thanks largely to people like him, they were all shut tight.
He needed to get to a place where there were lots of people. Yeah... he was starting to get his bearings. There was a railway bridge down here and just on the other side of that there was an Inn that was always open, day and night... there was the bridge! Within a second or two he was beneath it and almost safe. He could see the lights, hear the music and the laughing and the playing... so close. But it might as well of been the moon he was trying to get to.
A grey streak fell down from above, and his heart stopped. For good, this time. With his last few breaths he looked resignedly down at the arm of the creature stuck in his chest, then up at its vulgar, permanent grin. The last thing he saw were its two spiked fingers heading into his eyes.