The car sat atop a metal-strewn hillside, the landscape below covered with rusted cars and buses, trucks and trains; with sheets of metal the size of houses and possibly even parts of houses. Fires burnt as far as the eye could see, each one illuminated the industrious forms of dozens of Pilot Fish as they hacked away at the debris and sorted it into truck-sized containers. Danielle craned her neck to follow the second cradle as it spiralled into the smog. She rapped her knuckles on the car roof. “What do you see?”

  “Not much,” said Erica. She had a small spyglass pressed to one eye. She was using it at twice the intended distance, and the floodlights didn't help, but she was able to at least infer the blobs in the distance to be people. They may have just been blobs, though – that wouldn't have surprised her at all, really. The animals didn't speak, the sun didn't set, and everything was quite, quite vile – blobs would have fit right in. “I saw Corelious, I think. It might have just been three smaller blobs standing next to each other. There was someone else there, they took them up.”

  “Geddis,” Danielle said. “Has to be.”

  “Why can’t things just be easy?” Sebastian groaned.

  “But it’s him, right?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s him. You burn down half of Trinity, Parnell is going to want to see you. What else do you see, love?”

  “There are two men left, they’re just standing there.”

  “What kind of armour?”

  “Shiny. They both look like big, stupid pebbles from this distance.”

  “We've seen them before, Sebastian,” Bosco said. He subconsciously turned his body towards the direction of the men in a bid to shield Harry. “They were with Sykes, or men like them.”

  Erica got off the roof and dropped into the boot. She clambered through the back window using Mr. Tirren's shoulder as a support and slid down beside him. “My turn,” Sarah said and snatched the spyglass. She scuttled out of the back window and up onto the roof. She didn't have time for caution or not banging her head – she wanted to see what was there.

  “I'm guessing fighting is out of the question,” Danielle said.

  “This is rubbish,” Sarah complained. “They're just blobs with sticks.”

  “You're a blob with a stick, now get down and put the stick away.”

  “Play nice,” Sebastian chided. “Fighting will get us killed,” he said more seriously.

  “That how you got that wound?” Danielle asked.

  “Picking a fight with the wrong person? Absolutely, and I came prepared against someone that hadn’t. There’s no fighting Parnell, not even with an army.”

  “We can't just sit here,” Danielle said through gritted teeth. She thought about hitting the steering wheel in frustration, but she was afraid it would just come off.

  “I mean, we could just leave,” Sebastian said. “All of us. I’ll do a better job purging the coordinates this time. Parnell can do all he wants, we’ll be safe for years. By then I’ll have thought of something better.”

  “We’re not leaving him. I can’t believe you even suggested it.”

  “You wanted a plan, Danielle, this is my plan. Do you think I want to leave him? We can’t save him.” He sat forward with his head in his hands. “This has taken me years. Years! You’re asking me to throw all of this away – my family, my home – for an idiot that got himself caught.”

  “Caught saving us,” Bosco said. “I won’t leave him.”

  “And what about your boy, doesn’t he deserve to go home? What’s he going to tell his mother if you don’t come back? What are you going to tell her if he doesn’t come back? That oxygen won’t last forever, neither will that filter. This world is hell, Bos, you can’t risk your chance to go home, or your son’s life. I’m the only one that knows how to sabotage the Gate. We need to leave together or they’ll just open it again. At least come with me, I can send you through and close the Gate behind you. I’ll go get Geddis, just promise me you’ll leave.”

  “I, er, don’t think that’s going to happen,” Sarah said.

  “Oh, not you as well,” Sebastian sighed.

  “Not me. Him!”

  The car shook as a large, grey object impacted it and dented the only remaining door it had. Sarah shot from the roof and landed on her hands and knees in the dirt. “Get out now! Get out the frigging car.” The car wobbled on its flimsy suspension as Bracknell continued to shake it. Danielle reached for the key – the car sputtered. First it attempted to start using the small amount of fossil it had in its tank, then it attempted to start using its reserve steam pump, then it realised a large chunk of its engine had just fallen off, so promptly died. The engine stopped responding to her frantic turning of the key, and the car drifted towards a bright light for the final time.

  “God fucking damn it! Language? Yes, I fucking know.”

  “Oh, come bloody on,” Sebastian yelled. “Out the car!”

  Sebastian shoved Danielle in the shoulder hard enough to remove her from the car completely, then set about dislodging Bosco from a seat that was several sizes too small for him. With a gentle nudge from his papa, Harry bounded out of the car and over to Erica and Sarah, who were doing their best to keep the inert block of metal between them and their attacker. Sebastian tumbled to the ground, joined a second later by Bosco.

  “You, you bastard,” Bracknell growled. He declared his fight against the car a victory and stalked around towards them as the air filled with the droning death-wail of the car alarm. Bosco dusted himself off and stepped in front of him. Bracknell stood a head above him, and was almost as wide at the chest as he was; he also had the natural advantage of not being dressed like an idiot. Bosco kept his head low and his hands in front of his face as Bracknell continued towards him undaunted. Bosco lunged forward, feinted left, then followed with a right hand to Bracknell’s jaw. The giant’s knees shook and his head reeled as a large crack zigzagged up the side of his helmet, but he remained upright. Bracknell returned fire and drove his fist deep into the pit of Bosco’s stomach; the air driven from his lungs, his legs no longer capable of supporting his weight, he stumbled and fell.

  “No time for heroics. We need to run!” Sebastian hooked Bosco under one arm and pulled. He groggily stumbled to his feet and broke into a light jog as Sebastian continued to usher him away. Spotlights darted along the ground towards them, up the hillside and over the dunes of metal while bewildered Pilot Fish looked on but continued their tasks all the same. The lights moved faster than they did, and faster still upon the discovery of the car. Two lights converged on their position, then split off to either side of them in a pincer movement.

  “In the name of High Lord Parnell, surrender immediately!” The voice echoed through the wastes. “Or we will open fire.” The second part came out significantly quieter than the first part, which in itself was in part of the blue sash being really bored and just wanting to shoot someone. The lights buzzed around them, almost teasing them as to whether or not they knew they were there, then they focused directly on Sebastian. He turned and slowly raised his hands.

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  “Stop running,” he called to the others. “Now. Hands up, face forward – it's all we can do. Don't grumble.” They each stopped, and in turn raised their arms. Harry clung around Erica’s neck with one arm and raised the other – as games went, this wasn't his favourite. “We surrender!” Sebastian shouted. “We're unarmed and willing to cooperate. There are children with us!” The lights hovered silently in place for several excruciating seconds, then descended towards them until they were eye level.

  “I know we wanted to reach Geddis, but I was hoping for something better,” Erica mumbled. The blue sashes held their weapons on the group as they waited intently for instructions from above.

  “Ready!” called the first sash.

  “Aim!” replied the second.

  “Doctor Sebastian Hubert! ID number seven-zero-three-six-five-eight!” Sebastian yelled. “Remember? War criminal, that's me – a dirty war criminal. Parnell is going to be very unhappy if you shoot me before he has a chance to torture me into a confession. These are my accomplices, all of them. Especially the one with the hair.”

  The radio chatter recommenced, this time more frantic. The person at the other end, he assumed Parnell, spoke loudly enough to be audible over the radio. The man tried to wince away from the crackling speaker, which didn't work fantastically as he was still wearing it. “Keep your arms where we can see them,” he ordered. Three more cradles spiralled down to meet them, each brought with it another rifle and another irate sociopath to hold it. After a brief exchange of opinions and a concussion, the soldiers decided who’s cradle Danielle would ride on. This exchange was repeated for the opposite reason when it came time to decide who would take Bosco. Bracknell was a big boy, so they let him pilot his own.

  The deck lacked the sheen of the outer hull and had long since lost the battle of cleanliness, despite the multitude of deck hands that dusted and polished in and around the array of cannons. Sebastian lowered one of his arms slightly and carefully mopped his forehead with the back of his hand. The beads of sweat had invariably attracted the swirling clouds of dust that roamed the deck, so now everyone that was physically capable of sweating looked like they'd been cleaning chimneys.

  “Ah, there you are, dear boy!” Corelious walked out onto the deck, flanked by two deck hands that were liberally spraying moisturiser across the entire surface of his body, including his suit. “When I heard that our good friend Sebastian had returned to us, I positively had to come see for myself. And Ms. Ostler, how delightful to see you here. I'm surprised your nose for trouble hasn't gotten cut off yet.” He continued to waddle down the line. “You must be Erica and Sasha.”

  “Sarah,” she whispered.

  “Sarah and Sasha, of course. Do forgive me.”

  At the end of the line stood Bosco, Harry cradled protectively in his arms. “Oh my,” Corelious gasped. “I came to see you in person, but you had regrettably moved on just before I got there. Does anyone remember that dog that used to say sausages? I do.” There was a collective nod across the deck. “I digress. Guards, kindly escort the prisoners to their cell, but not Sebastian or the ladies here. High Lord Parnell is very interested in meeting them.”

  The guards communicated in their favourite language of nudging and shoving with the barrel of their guns, and slowly marched the line through the bulkhead door, followed closely by Bracknell. The door frame existed in two sizes smaller than tiny, and even Harry somehow managed to bump his head on it despite not being anywhere near it. The metal deck followed them into the ship, but the walls gave way to ornate wooden panelling juxtaposed with steel beams and bulkheads that took up most of the free space. As they approached the staircase, the party split into two groups, the Huberts ushered upwards and the others down the accompanying set.

  The conga line stopped in front of a sturdy-looking steel-banded door with a small hatch-covered slit at the top. The guard at the front of the line slid two large bolts upwards from the base of the door, then pulled it back and slid it to the side. Bosco was the first into the cell. The guards didn't like the idea of hitting women, children, or dog-creatures that were twice as large as they were, but they still managed to sneakily meet their quota for prisoner brutality by shoving Danielle twice as hard as was necessary. The door click-clacked behind them. Their bedding twitched in much the same way that bedding isn't supposed to, then it grumbled and snorted and rolled over and went back to sleep. Again, this wasn't considered common behaviour for an assorted pile of blankets.

  “I suppose it's me, then?” Danielle grumbled as they stood in quiet deliberation. “Excuse me,” she said. She slowly walked across to the heap on the mattress. “I said, excuse me. Are you awake?” Her third and final excuse me sounded much less polite and was accompanied by a stiff kick to the mattress. Geddis sat bolt upright, affixed with the look of rabbit with a car up its bum.

  “What the bastarding- Oh,” he said. “It's you. I would stand, but would you believe it, I only ruddy bloody went and misplaced my leg.” He pulled the blankets back to reveal a heavily bandaged stump. Geddis wasn't a medical doctor, but he knew enough to know his surgeon had been quite handy, while whoever wrapped his stump had been a bit of a moron at best, necessitating the need for him to re-bandage it himself like less of a moron.

  “Oh, good god. I'm so sorry, Nathan. We never should have left you.”

  “You didn't have much choice, love. I screwed everything up royally. And I continue to do so, because you’re here. Why didn’t you just leave me? You should have, you know.” Geddis slumped down onto his bedding.

  “Come on, we're not doing that,” Danielle said softly. She pulled him up from the mattress and put his head on her shoulder. She looked towards Bosco and flicked her eyes down at Geddis. Bosco flicked his eyes towards Danielle, which started a game of eyeball ping pong that only ended when they both realised they didn't know what the other was trying to say. “Harry,” she called. “Come here, please.” Harry stirred and stretched, and poured out of his papa's arms like treacle.

  “Mr. Geddis!” he mumbled excitedly through his mask. He tucked his oxygen canister under one arm like a rugby ball and charged towards the mattress.

  “What superhero have you come as?” Geddis said. “Come here, let's have a look at that.” He took the oxygen cylinder and checked the gauge. “Almost on red. I think we can turn this off for now. And get rid of that mask.” Bosco shot him a concerned look, but it didn't degenerate into a game of eyeball ping pong. “Don't worry, the air is filtered in here – he'd just be wasting oxygen. Bit like Parnell, really. Save it for when we get out of here.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Bosco asked expectantly.

  “I don't think so, not yet at least. Dare I ask where the girls are?”

  “They're safe. They're on the ship, so is Sebastian.”

  “Oh, then I do have a plan,” Geddis proudly declared.

  “What's the plan, Mr. Geddis?” Harry asked, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “Well, my little friend, it’s simple, really. We wait for Sebastian to do something brilliant and or stupid, and if it doesn't kill us all, we lend a hand as best we can.”

  “That's your plan?” Danielle drawled.

  “As plans go, I've had better. Actually, I haven't, but it’s got more legs to stand on than I do. Now help me up, love – I think I'm sitting on a spring.”

  ***

  “Parnell is behind those doors, I guess,” Erica said.

  “It's High Lord Parnell,” Sebastian corrected. “At all times. Speak when spoken to, curtsy when you enter, don't make eye contact.”

  “What's a curtsy?” asked Sarah.

  “Just bow, a bow will be fine, probably fine.” The large steel-banded doors opened onto the bridge of the ship. Small slits along the tops of the metal walls let enough light in to illuminate the half-dozen or so crew that busied themselves at the various consoles and levers that littered the room in a haphazard arrangement. The rest of the room was cast in shadow, including the large throne positioned opposite the door. Sebastian bowed fully at the waist, then returned to an upright position with his arms straight at his sides. Sarah quickly followed suit. Erica grumbled internally, then bowed quickly.

  “As I live and breathe, you of all people offering me the respect I deserve.” Each gravelly syllable was carefully enunciated and each word exactingly spaced.

  “As is only fair, High Lord Parnell,” Sebastian replied. The silhouette stood and walked into the light. Parnell wasn't a tall man, but he was wide at the shoulders – his immaculately tailored grey uniform was accompanied by a greatcoat that only served to accentuate them further. Across the left side of his chest were three rows of medals, each of a different shape and with a different coloured ribbon. He’d earned the first row, which was by far the most impressive, while the other two had been medals he’d commissioned especially to award to himself; Outstanding Leadership, Best Dressed While Under Enemy Fire, Most Exceptional Coup – things like that. His face was a patchwork of scars, the most prominent of which ran from the left side of his mouth in a crescent up to the right side of his forehead. The intersecting eye had been snatched from his face along the way – he didn't wear an eyepatch, he had nothing to hide. Sebastian inhaled through his teeth and held his breath for a slow count of five. “Girls, this is your uncle.”