The Cargo Hold Has Some Surprises Of Its Own

Inside, it was cold and dark. No one was supposed to be here now, so the air was kept barely above freezing. Richard’s breath misted in the air before him. His steps rattled on the metal floor. The click of gears and cogs seemed to follow him as machinery built into the walls continued its unending vigil.

He hugged his jacket closer, moving through the shadows like a stalking cat. There were flickering, half-traces of light here and there. The bright gas torches had been turned down to almost nothing, so the room had been filled with a curious darkness. Light as silk, and yet clinging like a spider’s web.

The room was filled with metal. Stalls rose from the ground, holding row upon row of luggage. Some of them were dignified-looking cases, others were heavy wooden crates.

Richard imagined that they contained gems, jewels, engraved plating and rare items galore. He was walking past more money than he would ever see in his life.

But he had eyes for only one thing. The pendant. That was all he cared about.

How much longer would his absence go unnoticed?

“Let me see, let me see…” The words tumbled from his mouth. There was an order to how the cases were arranged, but sometimes it took a few minutes to see it. Richard was an experienced hand though, and he could already see how they had been handled.

Which meant that he already knew roughly where his target was.

He moved swiftly now, abandoning stealth, his footsteps rattling across the floor. Pistons hissed, compressed steam rattled in its brass prisons along the walls.

There!

Sitting in one of the luggage stalls, between two much larger cases, there was a small one. He recognised it - he’d had it described to him in **** detail - and he felt a rush as his eyes fell upon it.

“You’re going to make me so much money,” he murmured.

He pulled it from the stall. It was locked. A filigree lock in the shape of a bronze flower, stem wrapping around the case and bedecked with tiny sapphires to represent the dew. Very fancy and very rich.

If he’d had more time, Richard might have pried them loose just for the sake of it. Spare money was always useful. But he was low on that and he knew it. He might not have been an engineer, but Richard certainly knew how to pick a lock.

The case was gaudy, rich, intended to be the envy of the less wealthy. It was the sort of thing you’d flaunt.

But sadly, not the sort of thing that was good at actually staying closed.

It clicked open and Richard gave a satisfied grin. Within, there were some items of personal importance. There were clothes, there was money. There was some jewellery.

And there was the pendant.

His eyes rested on it, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst. It consisted of a flattened oval, made of some strange metal. On one side, a wizened woman was staring off into the distance. On the reverse, a set of ridiculously curly writing. The sort of thing that made him doubt that anyone could read it at all.

He didn’t know what it was for. Nor did he care. It was probably inheritance. Some gift from grandmother that had gone to the wrong child, at least according to the one who hadn’t gotten it.

He pocketed it and stood up.

The job was as good as done! All he needed to do now was-

Sound.

A soft, dull thudding. Ice coiled around his spine. Motion, but far too regular to be that of a person. Very slowly, Richard moved his head. Did the shadows seem a little bit deeper?

Was something in here with him?

Not a human, a thing.

The sound came again. Closer now. Footsteps for sure, but - and this made Richard’s neck prickle with unease - far too many. The sound was short, sharp.

Metallic.

Automaton!

He broke into a cold sweat.

The thing must have noticed the gate had been ****! He drew back further into the shadows, his hand moved, closing around the handle of his weapon.

Slowly, the creature emerged from the darkness. Richard was used to automatons. They were a fact of life. Machines made of gears and cogs and venting steam. They were often works of art, used by those who could afford them. They were normally humanoid, slender of build. Non-threatening.

This one was not like that.

Take an elongated spine made of bronze. Stretch it to one and a half times the size of a human man. At the top, put a brass head. A harbour-master’s face sculpted in metal. Depict it with a long beard and a jaunty hat. The eyes are reinforced glass, smouldering red with internal heat. Now, run pipes up and down the spine line veins. Add little steam vents, constantly firing so the thing is followed by its cloud of superheated gas.

About halfway down, give it a spherical chest full of gears and wires and churning gauges.

Now cover the lower half in many metal, spider-like legs. Thirty at least, all clustered together. Finally, give it six arms. Each one massive, bulky. Strong enough to pulp flesh and shatter bone.

This was the creature that Richard saw looming out of the shadows. An actual nightmare.

It was a Conqueror!

What the hell was a Conqueror doing here?!

The machine turned, sweeping its fiery eyes across the cargo bay. Richard felt as if his heart was going to explode. His skin prickled. He prayed it wouldn’t notice him.

It saw the fallen case, still lying half open where he’d left it. Its head snapped around. Its body angled. The click-clicking of its many legs was like a nightmarish spider.

Did it see him?

It didn’t see him.

It couldn’t see him.

It saw him.

The eye-plates narrowed, the red blaze intensified. Its head snapped forward, and Richard cursed.

Of course the damn thing could see in the dark!

He took aim, his hand moved quickly, bringing his gun to bear.

But not faster than the machine. Something that big should not have been that fast, but it was. He didn’t even get a shot off before it tackled him.

Hard metal impacted his body and he was hurled from his feet. He smashed into one of the far walls, and pain flared through his body. Luggage rained around him. He was groggy, ****.

The thing grabbed him, one of its arms closed around his shoulder. He felt himself being lifted without effort. Like a man might lift a baby. He kicked out, but his boots didn’t even phase it. More arms closed around him, holding him tight, binding him up.

The only reason he was alive right now was because it was going to present him to the ship’s owners. He tried to fight, tried to wriggle free, mouthing curses at the thing’s emotionless face. Anger rose up in him. There was something hard in his hand.

He still had his gun!

Richard twisted, pulling against the many limbs. The ivory-handled pistol barked loudly. The sound screamed through his head, and the wave of pressure battered him an instant later.

The Conqueror was designed to live up to its name. The things could wade through fire. He’d seen it. On the battlefield, even a squad of them was **** and doom. It regarded his puny pistol as no threat at all.

That was its first mistake.

The thick bullet slammed into it, impacting far more power and with far more speed than it had calculated. The metal frame buckled, twisting with a loud, shearing scream.

Richard dropped to the ground as the machine jerked. He hit it hard and came up rolling. The gun was in his hands. The manstopper kicked back with such ****. His whole body ached with every shot.

But he still peppered the automaton with three. It bucked and juddered under each one, pipes and tubes snapped and began to spew boiling steam. Its eyes burned red, and it put on another burst of speed. This time, Richard was ready. He hurled himself to the right, skidding across the floor and tumbling as the thing smashed into the wall behind him.

“Not playing easy now, are you?”

But he was shaken. That would have killed him.

He’d fired four shots. He had two more. He didn’t think the machine would give him time to reload. It turned, coming at him again. Steam broiled around it, billowing like a boiling cloak of air. The thing was wounded but still very much alive.

Alive and angry!

Richard didn’t care what people said. That automatons had no emotions. That they were cold, hard processors. He knew anger when he saw it and those red, glinting eyes brimmed with it.

“Hurt you, didn’t I? Didn’t think a human could do that, huh? Wanna try again? I promise I still have more.”

Two shots. Two shots were all he had. Either he dropped this thing with those or it would kill him. There was now no other way. He tried to draw a bead in the chest piece, but the arms were covering it, flowing and shifting in mesmeric patterns to throw off his gaze. The many legs braced, its sculpted head regarded him with cold indifference.

Steam bellowed like a locomotive as it broke into another charge. Richard’s hand snapped up, the bullet from his gun tore into it, impaling it in the chest and punching right out the other side. Steam-blood flashed through the air, but it didn’t stop. One of its arms caught him a blow, piston-driven muscles ripped him from his feet. Something wet and hot dripped down the side of his face as he staggered back.

A hand closed around his shoulder and he was spun around. A metal leg kicked out at his own, hard. He went down in a flurry of pain and the creature hoisted him off his feet. The world was spinning, a metal hand closed around his throat.

It was going to kill him!

Those red eyes glared at him for a single moment. As if the thing was going to enjoy this much more than it should.

That was its second mistake.

Richard’s arm shot out, firing the last round. The bullet ripped right into the thing’s face, shattering the metal plate and tearing through the internal systems. Cogs scattered like rain and the thing reeled back. Thrashing and struggling, it tried to find him again, but he backed away.

The creature’s movements slowed then. The mortal wound he’d torn into it during Its charge began to tell. Bleeding steam and pressure, it started to wobble.

But even when it collapsed, Richard stayed away from it.

He stood for several seconds, gasping and breathing before he was finally sure the thing wouldn’t get up.

“Automatons!” He cursed.

His body was a mass of bruises now. He was bleeding, bruised, and had come within a few seconds of ****.

All for the pendant that he’d now stashed in his pocket.

It was time to go. Time to leave. There was no way that the destruction of the machine would go unnoticed. If he was to have any chance of avoiding being caught then-

Another sound came, breaking his train of thought. Richard froze, knowing that if it was another one, he was just plain dead.

But the sound wasn’t metal. It wasn’t the trundling of many footsteps. It sounded softer, more flighty. A soft, gasping moan that danced across his spine.

The sound of a woman in pleasure.