The Brothers Locke, page 7
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Doctor Psi apologized as she entered the room, her hands gloved and covered in red stains. “It’s been a day of breakthroughs.”
“Your work is important, that’s why I’m here. I can afford to wait a few minutes,” Sim Sam replied.
Doctor Psi took off the gloves and disposed of them but kept her mask on, hiding a unique row of vertical slits that made up her mouth. She motioned for Sim Sam to come closer to her desk where piles of papers littered the surface. He peered over the documents and tried to decipher what he could from the many notes and calculations. It was a foreign language to him so he thought it best to let the scientist break it down into words he could understand.
“So,” she said with a hint of glee in her voice, “the first few experiments, as you know, didn’t go so well. All the patients responded negatively to the treatment. Most of them didn’t survive the first series of tests. This last one, the security guard you sent …”
“Perry,” Sim Sam said, recalling the man’s name.
“... yes him. By the Dea, Sim Sam, he worked out extraordinarily well!”
“What made him so special?”
“Size and will. I’d suspect the will had more to do with it, but his size allowed him to take on more material than previous subjects. His body didn’t reject them. After a while it absorbed the new material. As for his will, well I think that has a lot to do with him being a family man. Most of the others were vagrants and castoffs that had no one in the world. But Perry, he has a wife. He has children. He wanted to go back to them so badly, you should have heard the screams! Such passion! But after the first few hours he settled and accepted. Once that happened, the rest was easy.”
The woman had no compassion clearly, and even though Sim Sam was a man who put business above all else, he couldn’t help but be unnerved to a small degree by the complete lack of care Doctor Psi had for Perry. Then again, he also understood she couldn’t have any for him. This was a science experiment to her, nothing more. To look at Perry’s status as a family man with any human emotion — instead of as a variable in an equation — would make her work impossible.
“Well then, let’s see what you’ve managed to cook up my dear,” Sim Sam said.
Behind her mask he could see that Doctor Psi was smiling. Her array of slits curled causing the corners of her chin to wrinkle in an unusual manner. To Sim Sam, Doctor Psi had a charm all her own and her unique face only added to his adoration for her. She held his hand gently as she led him further into her laboratory, leaving his guards behind.
Through a set of metal doors was another chamber near the back of the lab. The orange glow of the lights in the main lab were snuffed out here. The only light came from a few dimly lit computer monitors. Doctor Psi pushed gently back against Sim Sam, asking him to wait while she walked further into the darkness. After a few moments she emerged with another person at her side.
It was the security officer, Perry, but he was changed. The sheer work of Doctor Psi, and her demented artistry, was evident in the creature that slumped its way towards Sim Sam. His skin was ashen and the texture of dried dirt; cracked and withered. All that covered him was a loose tunic made of stitched together rags. His pronounced belly was even larger now as if filled to bursting with materials of various geometric shapes, poking against his flesh as if demanding to be released. His legs were covered in insect hair that twitched as he walked, his arms surgically altered and adorned with small horns of some wild animal. His shoulders were a mountain range of muscles that were so overgrown they pushed against the bottom of his ears. The most remarkable transformation was his head which had apparently been destroyed and reformed. It was now a patchwork of scars, stitches and staples that decorated his bald head.
“Amazing isn’t he?” Doctor Psi sighed with pride.
Sim Sam was impressed with her work but his face belied the concerns he held. He walked around the creature, no longer a man and not quite an animal, as it labored to breathe.
“Can it even move?” he asked. “No offense meant to your technique, not at all. What you’ve done here is a masterful work, no doubt. But he doesn’t look too agile. I mean, I’m a big boy and I think I can outrun this guy from the looks of things.”
“Believe me, he’s faster than he looks. Mongrel is the most lethal hybrid I’ve ever made.”
“Mongrel,” Sim Sam chewed on the name.
The hybrid grunted to itself and raised its right hand into the air, stretching and contracting it from fist to palm and back again. It marveled at its limb, entranced by either it’s rough composition or the sensation of flexing its tendons. With another huff, Mongrel lowered its right arm back to its side and remained eerily still.
“It suits him,” Sim Sam exclaimed. “I trust that more tests need to be run Doctor?”
“Oh yes, there is so much more to be done before he can be … released.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to work. The Miscellany will be more than happy to compensate you for your efforts here.”
“He’s just happy I keep my work outside of his precious city,” the doctor scoffed.
“Not a fan of my city?” Sim Sam asked.
Doctor Psi paused before answering, choosing her words wisely to not offend a man who she did hold admiration for. “It’s not the city itself, it’s what it represents. It’s not really part of the West. It doesn’t look like part of the West.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem now are they?”
Sim Sam’s words lingered between the two. While Doctor Psi could not disagree with Sim Sam’s assertion that Avidity was not everything it seemed: a shimmering city of glass and technology based on an evolved social view, she also could not deny that it’s very presence in the West was a contradiction. Icagoro had the dirt, the grime, the dystopian atmosphere that she thrived on for inspiration and isolation. Avidity was a contrast to all of that. However, they were funding this project, and she was not about to bite the hand that feeds.
“No, they are not,” she finally answered.
***
“I’m hungry,” Mouth complained to the rest of the passengers in the jeep. “I haven’t eaten in hours. I’m dirty. I’m tired. Really, a bath wouldn’t be unwelcome at this point either.”
“Or a shower,” Echo added.
‘Both,’ Sharp finished.
“We won’t be doing anything if we don’t find a gas depot or something out here,” Bulk Brown said, his finger tapping the gas meter which was hovering below empty. “We’ve got maybe another mile.”
“Where are we?” Echo asked.
“Well, we’re trying to get to The Great Manacle. Maybe we can pick up some fuel on the way there.”
The brothers looked at the landscape around them. The horizon showed nothing but desert. At best, it would be miles before they came across any fuel station, and a quick glance at the gas gauge in the jeep assured that they’d run out of gas before they got anywhere near The Great Manacle.
“I have an idea we’re not going to make it,” Mouth whispered to his brothers.
As if on cue, the jeep began to sputter and jerk until it crawled to a complete stop. Bando protested that they should have at least enough gas to get further down the road but no one else was really buying it.
“I’m telling you, this jeep isn’t empty. It’s something else,” he continued to argue.
“Yeah, right,” Mouth scoffed as he exited the vehicle.
The rest of the occupants followed. To their surprise, they weren’t alone. Just a few yards down the road was another vehicle on the side of the road with two young men surrounding it. They had seen the stalled jeep and were on their way towards Solas and the brothers.
“Hey! Hey!” one of the two men called out.
“Should we talk to them?” Dana asked Bulk.
He peered at the two men and scratched his temple before answering, “I don’t think we have much of a choice. Keep your eyes open though.”
“Gotcha.”
Bulk walked towards the two men to meet them some distance from both stalled vehicles. The young men were in their early twenties, their skin tanned and rough, their arms covered in tattoos. Each had gold rings through their eyebrows and embedded in their chins.
“I’m Shindar and this is Munlar, nice to meet you,” the taller of the two said, extending his hand to Bulk.
His gesture wasn’t reciprocated.
“This is where you tell us who you are,” Shindar said.
“Not likely. Where are you two headed?” Bulk asked.
“Why should we tell you?” Munlar spoke up.
“Well, this is going well,” Dana commented.
Bulk took two steps closer to the men. He was going to put his considerable size to work to their advantage here. As rough around the edges as these boys were, they weren’t so tough that Bulk didn’t intimidate them.
“You’re Crimson Corsairs, aren’t you?” said Bulk.
Shindar and Munlar looked at each other, each wondering whether or not they should admit to their identities. Shindar, the clearly more pliable of the two, thought to confess.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“The tats and the rings, all of Horsefly’s boys wear those.”
Jocelyn quietly asked Mouth, “What’s a Horsefly boy?”
“Captain Horsefly, he’s the leader of the Crimson Corsairs,” Mouth answered.
Echo added, “Sky pirates. And the Crimson Corsairs are the worst of the bunch. Specialize in kidnapping kids it’s been said.”
“Kids?”
Shindar’s voice rose over their whispering, “Well, we could use some help and not an interrogation. We have no problem with you man. And from the looks of things, you’re not all that squeaky clean yourself.”
Shindar’s gaze focused on the brothers. They noticed instantly.
“You got a problem?” Mouth asked.
Munlar stepped past Bulk and Dana. As he approached the Locke Brothers they responded in kind by lining up side by side as if they were anticipating a fight.
“Relax brothers, relax,” Munlar said. “You’re known to us. The Locke Brothers! Master Thieves! Is that right or am I being too sensationalistic?”
Mouth nodded in agreement, half flattered and half cautious. Echo on the other hand instantly became preoccupied by something else. He cocked his head slightly to the side so his right ear could focus on a distant sound. There was not much in that direction besides a few dunes, at least to those with sight. Echo however could perceive something more beyond the sand and the dirt. There was a clicking, low but certainly there and absolutely in a pattern that suggested a machine.
“You know Bando, I’m beginning to believe you now.” Mouth took a step back from Munlar as his distrust of the young man grew. “We didn’t run out of gas did we? And I’m sure whatever it is my brother is hearing right now confirms it.”
“Electromagnetic device probably,” Echo confirmed.
“Yeah, that’d do it,” Kale added. “The jeep would sputter to a stop with all electronics disabled. How did you get one out here? Where is it?”
“Over there, to the left, behind the dunes,” Echo answered before the strangers could offer another lie.
Bulk Brown got even closer to Shindar now, almost nose to nose, his size making the younger man shrink. The fact that his team had been sabotaged out here in the middle of nowhere was distressing. Even more important though was that the Crimson Corsairs knew where they were and knew how to get to them.
“So what do you want with us boy?” Bulk Brown grunted, his breath hot on Shindar’s forehead.
“It’s not what I want, it’s what our boss wants. And what he wants is them,” Shindar replied, his confidence growing as he continued to speak.
“How did you find us?” Bulk asked.
“We have eyes everywhere, that’s part of what makes The Crimson Corsairs different from the rest of the so-called pirates in the Dea.”
Munlar continued, “So you can either come with us or stay here and rot in the desert. It’s your choice.”
Echo’s ears picked up on another sound as the clicking he heard before suddenly ceased. This new sound came from the sky some distance away. Sharp’s eyes verified what Echo’s ears heard. A brigand ship was approaching from the north at considerable speed. It was a growing dot in the sky that came closer with each passing moment. When it became clear that there were no other options here, Bulk Brown huffed and bumped into Shindar before returning to his team.
“This is strictly business then?” he asked. “Captain Horsefly wants to work with Solas then, you understand that?”
“Your little group doesn’t concern us,” Munlar answered. “You’ll be compensated. We know you have your own agenda with the triplets. We just need their skills for a job, savvy? Then, you can be on your way and do what you wish, but this matter needs to be addressed immediately.”
“And what matter needs our skills?” asked Mouth.
“Gold my boy! Solid gold!”
***
Captain Horsefly’s fleet of airships were known throughout the Dea as being the largest and most advanced of all Air Brigands. No one knew exactly how many ships made up the fleet, some claimed it to be a hundred, others claimed the ships numbered in the thousands. The mythos itself was enough to earn Horsefly’s group, The Crimson Corsairs, the dubious reputation of being the most dangerous fleet of pirates in the skies of the Dea.
Images of the infamous captain were everywhere, from the largest cities to the smallest backwater towns. His face could be seen inside newspapers and magazines just as much as it was sketched in alleys and alongside roadways. It wasn’t just his standing as the most famous of all Air Brigands, but his unique appearance that made him a folk legend.
From the orange cone that he wore as a hat, to the long silk robe adorned with feathers at the wrist and collar, to his curled mustache and sprouting patch of red hair, Captain Horsefly was a sight to be seen. He was a large man, a behemoth with bulging arms and broad shoulders. His most recognized trait however was his lower lip that was pierced with a series of gold rings that jingled when he spoke.
“So, you’re Captain Horsefly,” Bulk Brown said as he entered the airship.
As big as Bulk Brown was, Horsefly easily eclipsed him. The brigand showed little concern for the leaders of Solas and instead focused his eyes on the triplets that were doing their best to be inconspicuous behind Bulk.
“And these are the master thieves,” Horsefly mused. “Boys! Are you impressed?”
The crew of Crimson Corsairs that crowded the interior of the airship responded to their captain’s bellow with laughter and gawking. The lower level of the ship was dark and smelled of body odor and mold. The Locke Brothers and Solas stood in the middle of the room surrounded by the sweaty, red-clad brigands, all of whom were males from the age of six to sixty. Never before had The Locke Brothers seen so many unsavory characters gathered in one place, one just as intimidating as the next.
“Boys like you usually wind up being sold, you know. We could get a good bit of change for triplets, especially ones who are famous as you three are,” said Horsefly.
The man smelled of sardines, alcohol and jasmine, a mixture that puzzled the senses as much as it offended. He approached the brothers with slow, deliberate steps that hit the boards of the vessel with a thud.
“We’ve been threatened by worse,” Mouth replied. “You have us here. What is it that you want us to do?”
“I need something stolen, of course. Actually, I need something retrieved, as it was mine to begin with. It’s gold. My gold. Now, seeing as you three are master thieves, I figured you’d be capable of doing this job for us.”
“Why not just do it yourself?” Bulk Brown interrupted. “You’ve got an entire fleet of ships. You’ve got all these men under your command. How hard would it be for you to get back one shipment of gold?”
“Yes, that’s where things get a bit complicated. You are rather rude though aren’t you? Please don’t interrupt me again.”
Bulk Brown’s eyes narrowed as he huffed at the pirate. For a brief moment, the two stared angrily at one another, each warning the other with a glare. Horsefly continued to talk, although for the rest of the conversation he would be keeping his eyes on Bulk Brown just in case the man felt compelled to do something more than speak out of turn.
“We are at this very moment traveling to a little warehouse called Egen Station. That’s where they’re keeping it. The thieves stashed it there. And yes, we’d get it back ourselves but Egen Station is owned by an associate of mine and I don’t really think he’d appreciate it if I broke into his warehouse.”
Bulk realized what the conflict was. “Egen Station is of course owned by The Miscellany. So that’s the problem: you can’t bite the hand that feeds.”
“Wait,” Mouth said, “we just stole from him once in Avidity. We’re lucky we got out of there the first time. Now you want us to steal from The Miscellany again? Two times in as many days?”
“Why do you think we picked you? Not many people get away with breaking through The Miscellany’s security so we figured you’d be the right choice, seeing as you’ve already done it. Savvy? Besides, this isn’t going into Avidity and breaking into one of the big buildings. This is a warehouse. It should be an easy job.”
“And if we’re caught?” Echo asked.
“Then my hands are clean. It’s really that simple.”
Horsefly took a large dusty bottle from one of his crewmen and began drinking from it, the excess dribbling down his ratty beard.
“Why don’t you just ask The Miscellany to give you back your gold?” Echo questioned. “If you’re an associate of his, I’m sure he’d help you out.”
“You’re confusing associate with friend boy. The Miscellany would likely try to charge me a hefty fee for it. That’s what he does. He negotiates. He politics. He looks for advantages to gain over you. No, I’m not letting my gold go. It’s mine and I want it back.”
