«The Fuhrer thanks you for your service," Veerspike said with a sneer to their quickly-receding screams. Then, he rose and aimed his gun at Bantam. «I'll be needing my communication from Berlin now.»
«Sorry," Bantam said. «Get a coggler to check your gears: I don't truck with Krauts.»
Veerspike pulled the trigger.
Click! Empty.
With one swift motion, Veerspike pulled a dagger from his sleeve. Bantam thought he saw an SS 'death's head' on the handle. He could see this detail only because the dagger was already in the air and almost to his head --!
«Mesmerize!» Rachelle shouted. And Bantam slapped himself, nudging his head out of the path of the dagger at the last sliver of a second.
But now he was off balance, teetering, falling …
Madly, his fingers clutched and grabbed onto the footrail. The passengers of the car gasped at the window. He barely had a grip as he dangled from the Air Way car, zipping along at eighty miles an hour.
Veerspike turned now to Rachelle, who clung to the open hatch door in the howling wind.
«Dollymop!» He yelled at her. «Common tramp! How could you betray your husband?»
«How could you betray your country?» Rachelle shot back. «You destroyed our space program!»
«Oh, you don't understand," Veerspike said, shaking his head. «A new empire is arising in the world, one that will last for a thousand years! A brilliant man leads it … if you could only hear him speak, you would feel his majesty for yourself!
«This man … he is a new messiah! He will lead humanity into the future, a brighter future than you can possibly imagine. Oh, not everyone is invited of course. The way must be cleared first. There are too many people in the world. And most of them unfit, unclean! Vermin must be exterminated!
«But you can still be a part of it, Rachelle. You are invited! Come back to me now. Be by my side. Be with me in the new world order.»
«Oh, my formerly betrothed. How can you know me so poorly? If this empire is to be led by the man Benjamin described, then it is an empire of hoaxes, darkness and sand. I would rather die.»
«So be it," Veerspike growled and launched himself at her.
She screamed and dodged, scampering across the roof of the car. But her close-cropped dress and corset beneath did not permit much agility. Veerspike quickly pinned her, and held a dagger at her throat.
«Goodbye, Rachelle. The blood of my beloved on my blade … in the name of the Reich? My Fuhrer will weep tears of joy when he learns of it.»
As he sank his blade into her neck, Bantam's boot cracked him across the temple, sending him skidding across the metal-slick roof. He grabbed the open hatch at the last second. Bantam bounded after him. Veerspike rose and the two began exchanging blows.
Bantam knew Tae Kwon Do, but Veerspike was nearly double his weight in both muscle and fat. Veerspikes blows — when they connected — were like a meteor crashing through a forest. But Bantam's blows were precise and aimed at soft spots — the windpipe, the temple, the ribcage.
«Not bad for a jelly-belly," Bantam taunted.
«Only women kick. Men fight with their fists," Veerspike said, not knowing how to defend himself from such blows and clearly irritated by that. «I’m going to nobble you and good, pidgeon.»
«Well, I have to --»
Bantam was cut off as the Airway car bounced suddenly — they'd hit a switch cable. They sped off in a new direction through the iron canyons of New York City.
The sudden jolt caused Veerspike and Bantam to stumble, but they both regained their footing. But Rachelle was thrown from the roof. She plummeted downwards …
«Rachelle!» Bantam yelled. But Veerspike offered him no respite; fists thundered in his face, there was nothing he could do.
It went on like this for several more minutes, the two of them in a deadlock of skill versus size, evenly matched.
Then Veerspike made a mistake: he left his side unprotected. Bantam spun with all his might and gambled on a flying roundhouse kick to the ribs — and the gamble paid off.
Crunch!
The sound of ribs cracking, bending inwards, puncturing the lung. Veerspike coughed immediately; blood was already pouring into his lung. Soon, he would drown in it.
And the force of the kick had sent Veerspike careening off the roof …
When Bantam peered over the edge, he saw both Rachelle and Veerspike hanging from the foot rail.
Rachelle had managed to climb up onto it and she was steady, whereas Veerspike was holding on by a single hand.
«Here!» Rachelle said, offering her hand. But Veerspike didn't want that. Savagely, he tore at her dress, trying to pull her down with him. Blood poured from the corner of his mouth. «No!!!» Rachelle cried, backing away. «Let go!!»
His grip slipped. He latched onto Rachelle's dress. For a moment, they hung there together — Rachelle hanging onto the foot rail for dear life with all of Veerspike's weight pulling on them.
But then Bantam was at her side. He turned his gaze to Veerspike.
«You want to reduce the world population? Fine. Let's start with you.»
Bantam kicked Veerspike in the face. The portion of dress he was holding onto ripped.
And Victor Veerspike went howling down into the abyss of cloud below.
Nine: The Phlogistonian
THE PHLOGISTONIAN aerotel was permanently lodged in the clouds above New York City. Under construction for the past fifteen years and newly-opened, it was the latest marvel and newest gilded playground of society.
As they approached in a Growler taxi, Bantam saw that the 'aerotel' was essentially a large building kept permanently aloft by a great number of Helux-filled shafts and columns built directly into the superstructure. A complex system of hydrologic circuitry and gyroscopes and propellers worked in concert to continuously nudge the building into the same location, accounting for the the shifting winds and weather.
In short: it was a great golden palace floating in the sky. Rachelle figured it was just the place for them to hole up for a bit and figure out what to do next.
The lobby was a cacophony of top hats and ladies in mink, several of these carried fashionable and elegant miniature horses. Bantam had thought these pets to be a peculiarity of the 'ton Gasper, but it was evidently a widespread fad.
«But how are we going to get in?» Bantam asked. «This is the twirly moustache version of an Ian Schrager hotel, and we have no reservation.»
«I'm an Archenstone, remember? This hotel was built with my family's money.» She went to the front desk and within seconds a bellhop was scurrying. He led them to an elevator made of crystal. It was like being inside a chandelier, Bantam thought as they ascended.
Their room was appointed so lavishly it bordered on hallucination. Marble and gold and sapphires adorned the walls and columns. There was an open-air balcony with a rich firepit crackling in the sunset. They were fairly high up in the air, of course, but by some trick of the architecture, it was only mildly windy and not cold at all.
Rachelle dismissed the bellhop with a generous tip and closed the door. «Thank you for trusting me," she said to Bantam. «We need the rest. And we need a place to hide out while I think. If we go back to MacLaren now, we will simply be arrested. I'm certain Victor left standing orders for my incarceration … and if they saw you alive, you'd be in clappers even more quickly than I.»
Bantam allowed himself to collapse on the bed. Exhaustion flooded him. «I'm sorry," he said to Rachelle. «I just got hit with a wave of tired that you wouldn't believe.»
«Oh, that's understandable. You still haven't properly recovered from the Pinion,” Rachelle said. «Not to mention the tincture I gave you. It is harmless, but not altogether without a toll. And all you've done recently is run for your life. I'm surprised you're even on your feet.»