Pre-Order Eldritch Revolver
Chapter One - The Zero Song
Copyright © 2024 by Levi Michael Strauss
Niles gazed absently into the chasm between his knees, past the pair of worn, scuffed boots to the distant treetops, appearing like emerald pinpricks below. He squirmed ever so slightly against the coarse harness; his left hand, still made of warm flesh and bone, delved into a pocket in his battered leather overalls to produce a sour green blade of nic-grass. He bit down on the stem, savoring the pleasantly bitter sting of the plant's addictive juices. Closing his eyes, he sank into his favorite daydream, where the exhilarating feeling of falling felt almost tangible.
"Rise and shine," came a sultry woman's voice cutting through the static. Perched atop the Condi-detection apparatus, which reached twenty-five feet above The Hermit’s deck, was Shine Tenspoke. Niles had given this antiquated, steam-powered drilling rig its name. It now traversed the cascading cliffs of steel tracks built into the crater's sloping walls. A simple-looking hunk of machinery, it had a rectangular body atop four wheels, flanged on the inner side to keep the rig aligned on the tracks tracing the inner rim of the crater's western edge.
Only a year younger than Niles, this twenty-nine-year-old war veteran spoke like all ex-military personnel did: with a steely mix of boredom and impatience. A former member of one of General Honnerall's elite sniper dragoons, she'd been court-martialed after an investigation discovered her at the center of a gambling ring betting on casualty counts—for both sides.
Two years had rid Shine of her dramatic sighs and rolling eyes whenever Niles gave her instructions or asked her to perform certain tasks. Convicted felons don’t carry much military leverage...or any leverage at all besides exchanging labor for time served.
As Niles lifted his head, he rubbed the back of his neck, heavy eyelids opening to witness the dramatic shift in the color-scape before him. The sun emerged from the east, casting fiery red reflections off the glass tower at the crater's heart. This spectacle, known as "The Red Dawn," attracted people from afar to witness its blood-soaked glory. But for Niles, it only meant another day sinking into a harness.
"Is it that time already?” he said, “I was having such a lovely dream."
A breathless voice came through the static over the din of the operating room—the rig’s belly, the lowest level housing The Hermit’s control room and equipment hangar. "I cannot fathom...how anyone could sleep...at this depth." Gage Sigott, fresh-faced at only twenty-three years old, was the youngest and newest member aboard the rickety old rig. Today marked his first day on the job as the trio's new operator, and he was clearly still adjusting to the crushing gravity this far down the crater’s sloped walls.
There had been more qualified candidates to choose from. Plenty of honest, law-abiding folk had been making their way south these days looking for work in The Well. And as Niles's rig had consistently topped the yearly profit list, there was no shortage of applicants. But out of all of them, Gage’s credentials were the only ones that made Niles laugh. He chuckled again at the thought, picturing a red-faced, self-important industry man running across Skyman's Landing's courtyard with Gage scrambling behind him. His frantic apologies were drowned out by an angry automaton between them, its steel pincers snipping at the industry man’s heels.
Gage had been a junior engineer for a bank's security contractor and was arrested after signing off on an unsanctioned alteration to a security automaton that falsely targeted a high-profile client as hostile. Like Shine, his relatively high status had given him the privileged option to exchange labor for time. Further piquing Niles's interest was Gage’s claim to have invented an automaton that could find and sync the unique resonant frequency of each condensate cluster much faster than the current detection rig beneath The Hermit's chassis.
However, The gravity well was not a place for the recently liberated, and Gage was just five or six generations removed from his ancestors enslaved to the Sol Cabal judging by his finger-width crown-scar across his temple. Despite this, Niles decided to bring Gage on board on one condition—Niles flexed the fingers of his new prosthetic right hand, attached by the young man that morning—brass digits on clicking hinges connecting to a clever blend of gears and pistons visible through the leather palm. He rigorously chomped on the stem of the leaf grass as if he could chew away nagging doubts. While the red-haired, fresh-faced lad had a knack for tinkering, his thoughts were clearly displayed on his face like fresh ink on daily propaganda tabloids. By Niles’s observations that morning, Gage had spent almost as much time glancing up at Niles's face as he did adjusting the prosthetic. His eyes grew wider each time, leading Niles to wonder if he had once again chosen selfishly instead of wisely.
He scratched at his shaggy patchwork of a beard. The damn thing itched at all hours of the day, and once again he told himself that he would finally shave it off—it clearly wasn’t fooling anyone besides himself anyway.
Gage was a convict, which provided some reassurance. Not the most morally upstanding group, if one cared about that sort of thing. But there was an unspoken rule shared amongst all who spent their nights locked in those cold cells: don’t ask, and never, ever tell. After all, secrets are best kept by the dead.
Niles sighed. There was no point in worrying about it now. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?
With his new prosthetic, he gripped the handle of a hand-operated mining drill hanging from a nearby chain. Thick hoses extended from its rear, running parallel to the chain up the cliffside and into the belly of The Hermit’s operating room.
"Drill check," Niles said.
"Ready when you are,” Gage replied.
Niles pulled the triggers and the interlocking drill bits whirred to life, amplified by the roar of pneumatic hoses.
"You hear that?" Shine barked through static. “That's the sound of money.”
Niles's forearms flexed against the bucking steam hoses as he slowly applied more pressure, reading off pressure and frequency counts from barely readable dials behind cracked glass. Then, he released the triggers, allowing the drill to settle down to a gentle purr.
"Looks like we're...in sync," Gage noted. "All clear, confirmed."
"Throw her into gear then, new guy," Niles said. A moment later, The Hermit's steam engine hissed as it slowly began its plodding journey forward. Niles’s gaze drifted to the monotonous treetops below—the stale-green canopy shifting slowly as he moved.
Around the bend, straddling the tracks with three spider-like legs was a round brass sphere about twice the size of a human head—an autonomous golem named ExEm, its filament lamp spinning green in excitement.
Shine’s voice crackled with surprise. "What in the crimson hells is that thing?"
"That's ExEm," Gage replied with breathless pride. "Looks like she's found something."
"X what?" Shine asked.
"ExEm. I retrofitted an old X.M.659 automaton unit for condensate resonance detection."
Niles winced as the klaxon alarm grew louder as it approached. "Does it have to sound so...I don't know..."
"Happy?" Shine offered.
"Yeah."
Shine’s voice sounded sharp, "It can scream bloody murder if it's found condensate already, for all I care!"
"I thought changing the... default alarm sound...might give the automaton some personality," Gage said with some difficulty.
"Suppose we could use something to lighten the mood since..." Niles trailed off. "Well, you know."
Shine's crisp laughter came through the static, but she didn’t respond.
"You know?” Gage said. “You know what? I feel like I should know what."
"Oliphar, our previous operator, wasn't the most detail-oriented fellow and forgot a very important detail," Shine said with a chuckle over the buzzbox as the trolley slowed to a halt. Then her tone turned militant: "Extending focal dishes now."
Niles looked up, seeing various mirrors and magnifying devices extend over The Hermit's lip.
"And which detail...would that be?" Gage pressed.
"Gravity!" Shine laughed. "There’s a reason we're the only Rig who runs the tracks this low. Pulled him arse end over the edge and into the forest at the bottom of The Well.”
Niles shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. It wasn't the type of fall he'd dreamt of—admittedly, it was a funny way to die.
"Oh," Gage said weakly.
"The switch for the topside perimeter lamps is always in the same place, where it's always been," Niles offered as if trying to absolve himself of blame. "He knew where they were."
Shine added, "The squat lights. Don't forget about the squat lights. They are highly encouraged but not compulsory."
"Understood..." Gage noted.
"Speaking of lights, the dish is up! The tight beam of focused red is coming your way, Captain." Shine's voice trailed off as Niles pulled down his hat's circular brim and looked down again, letting the overly chewed blade of grass fall from his mouth. It floated gently before wind gusts made it disappear.
Floating—that was more what Niles had in mind.
"Five... Four...," Shine’s voice seemed to fade away as she began her countdown.
The gravity well projected by the Crimson Tower didn't affect inanimate objects, forest creatures, or the circling birds of prey above; primal instinct wasn't enough. It targeted only those who could comprehend or perhaps appreciate the patterns in the subtle shifts of its low droning frequency—recognize it for what it was: a musical melody, with specific notes repeating in a steady pattern, rising and falling like a slow-moving wave. The tower demanded an audience for its Zero Song, barely audible but undeniable. Niles heard it now, lurking below the surface of his subconscious, and with it, the relentless press of an invisible hand—gravitational pushing him into his harness. A song explicitly designed for humans alone.
By whom or what or why—nobody had the faintest clue.
"Three," Shine continued.
All anyone knew for sure was that the deeper one descended the craters' sloping walls, the less one floated like a feather and more like bullets ejected from a rifle barrel: with extreme force and acceleration. Still, Niles wondered what it had been like for poor Oliphant. Did he have a chance to register the mishap? Did his mind even notice the brief space between life and death? A swift fall and an abrupt stop, all in the space between seconds. Painless.
"Two...”
Niles spit out the soggy blade of nic-grass, watching it slowly float before being carried away by a gust of wind.
"One."
A bright beam of crimson light forced Niles's thoughts back to the present. The sun's refracted red light, caught by Shine's mechanisms of mirrors and lenses, was bent and focused into a tight spotlight.
It passed over Niles as Shine moved her lens along the slope's edge, searching ExEm's marked area, scanning laterally then vertically in a slow, methodical pattern.
"Anything yet?" Gage asked through static, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Nothing," Niles replied. Above them, ExEm still bounced up and down, singing its cheery little song. "The automaton seems pretty confident, though."
"It better be!” Shine shouted. “Or else I'm pretty confident I'll kick it over the edge for wasting our precious time."
Something glinted briefly—a flash of red amongst stone. "Wait." Niles signaled to Shine. "Back up a bit... lower... there!" And he saw it again—a crystalline switchblade springing from the wall and retracting as Shine's light passed over it, then reappearing once more as she readjusted it.
Niles hung silent in his harness, dumbstruck at what he saw.
"Smoke and sulfur," Shine muttered through the static.
"Is that good...or bad? Gage asked nervously. Blind to the outside from the windowless operating room, he added, "Please don't kick my automaton."
"It means jackpot, you curly-headed gear-licker!” Shine said. “In my miserable two years in this red-lamp shithole, I've never seen so much condensate in one place."
"Don't get him too excited, Shine, or he'll pass out," Niles said.
“If it keeps this up,” Shine returned, “I might adopt this ball of brass as my child when I pay off my work debt five years early."
"Gage, power up the pneumatics and ready the drill for resonance sync," Niles commanded.
"Copy that."
"Shine, keep that spotlight steady,” Niles continued. “Don't let some bastard cloud cut off our daylight. I've got my work cut out for me down here."
"Yeah, yeah," replied Shine distractedly. "How many gallons do you think?" Niles rolled his eyes. "Every damn time..."
"Come on!"
"I remember 'No betting, No gambling' specifically mentioned as a conditional clause in your court martial document, Shine. Someone even circled it in red ink."
"You must have that thing framed given how often you bring it up!" she retorted. "Besides, it's not betting; it's guessing with consequences."
"This sounds a lot...like betting to me," Gage interjected.
"Fine," conceded Niles. "What's your 'guess'?"
"Ten point four gallons."
Niles looked at the colossal piece of blood-red crystal sticking out of the rock. He wouldn't be surprised if it were double that amount. "Ten point four one gallons, my bet... I mean, guess, or anything above."
Shine replied quickly, "Anything below wins for me!"
"Nope. Ten point four on the dot or nothing."
"Hardly fair!"
"House rules—the loser has to clear the grime off magnet coils."
"Fine,” Shine said with a note of resignation. "Ten point four gallons. Besides, you'll make me clean the coils anyway."
"Yep," Niles said, the drill bits wiring to life as he moved it into position. "But first, let's get this cut, vaporized, and into the tanks before the sun moves out of range."
As the day drew to a close, Niles sat atop the deck of The Hermit, nestled amidst the settling dusk. The steam-powered Rig groaned and creaked as it rumbled along the tracks built into the slopes of the great crater. The air carried a faint scent of oil, mingling with the dusky but not unpleasant smell of pressure-heated steam. With his back pressed against the warm engine housing, Niles found solace in the low hum emanating from the row of glowing storage tanks lining the back of the deck. The five glass tanks held a mesmerizing pink liquid, appearing ethereal and otherworldly as they flickered and cast dancing shadows across the rust-streaked metal.
In the distance, at the center of the great crater, the Crimson Tower loomed ominously. Its monolithic presence pierced through the forest past the lip of the crater, its tip piercing the sky above like a serrated blade. Without the sun behind it, the tower appeared more like an opaque mass of dull red, shrouded in mystery and foreboding. It forever broadcasts the low hum of the Zero Song that intertwined with whispers of breeze.
Lost in his thoughts, Niles leaned his head back, biting down thoughtfully on a fresh blade of nic-grass. The moment's peace was quickly disrupted by the clatter of a hatch flinging open nearby, followed by a colorful string of curses, heralding Shine Tenspoke's entrance. Covered in filth and smeared with oil, she tossed a bristled brush at Niles's feet as proof that she had owned up to her side of their bet and cleaned the copper coils.
"Twenty-five point six gallons, just as the prophecy foretold," Niles said with a wry smile.
"Have this prophet foretell who's cleaning those damn coils next, cuz it ain't gonna be me again." Shine's teeth flashed bright white in a snarling grin as she struck a match against the railing, lighting a cigarette and taking a long, slow drag. Smoke curled lazily from her lips, drifting away on an errant breeze as she gazed out over the landscape, her eyes sharp and calculating. She leaned against it, elbows propped on the metal, and blew a long haul of smoke into the darkening sky.
Shine’s teeth flashed bright white in a snarling grin as she struck a match against the railing, ember flakes burning bright as she took a long, slow drag. Smoke curled lazily from her lips, drifting away on an errant breeze as she gazed out over the landscape, her eyes sharp and calculating. She leaned against it, elbows propped on the metal, and blew a long haul of smoke into the darkening sky.
Niles's eyes lingered on her silhouette—powerful and supple, curvature visible beneath the filthy overalls. He lingered a second too long, as he had a habit of doing. Her lavender eyes caught his gaze moments before he looked away.
"Admiring the view?" she said before hocking a wad of spit over the side of the rail.
The woman was undeniably beautiful. Niles's failed attempts at hiding his thoughts had led to more than one highly inappropriate moment of intimacy between them. Niles was a free man and Shine was both convict and his direct subordinate.
"Just wondering how you managed to keep the grease out of all that hair," Niles said lamely. Her hair was pinned high above her thin circular scar in a shock of bleach white. "Looks like a snow fox was dipped in a bog."
Shine barked a laugh as she took another drag. “You're one to talk. Surely, with this new contraption of ours, you'll be able to afford a haircut and a straight shave."
Emerging from the underbelly of The Hermit, streaked with grease and sweat, was Gage Sigott. His eyes sparkled with the telltale signs of Ancestral Adrenalin, evident in his posture and aura of silent confidence. He had ExEm with him and began poking at his automaton creation with a small tool with the precise movements of a practiced hand.
"Have you got it all sorted, then?" Niles asked, eyeing the mechanical contraption with newfound admiration after the day’s haul.
"Good as… new," Gage replied, running a greasy hand through his red curls, clearly exhausted. "Just needed… a few tweaks."
Niles had to marvel at the young engineer's resilience. He'd seen many crumble under the pressure of operating in the depths of sector three, but not Gage. Even with the weight of his debt hanging over him like a guillotine, he remained steadfast, focused, and adaptable.
"Shine thinks you're onto something with your invention," Niles mused, leaning against the railing as he watched the young man work. "Says it could change everything."
"File a patent before that coin-grubbing bastard Xeel gets wind of it and claims it was his idea,” Shine huffed, “pocketing the distribution rights along with it."
"I'll get you the paperwork,” Niles offered. “Could be your ticket out of here."
Gage nodded in silent thanks, clearly having done enough talking for one day.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a bloody hue across the sky—like the promise of violence that hung in the air. Niles leaned against the railing; his eyes narrowed as he watched the distant flashes of warped gunfire and glimpses of red cloaks down near the tree-line below.
***
An hour later, The Hermit slowly came to a stop at HighWall Prison, wheezing and coughing as it released two long blasts of steam into the darkening sky. Two guards clad in copper cloaks approached the vehicle, each armed with a shock baton and a six-shot pistol at their waist. They positioned themselves at the bottom of the twenty-foot ladder, ready for their routine task of taking the convicts inside for the night. Gage descended the ladder on unsteady legs, while Shine took one last drag of her cigarette and flicked it off the edge before following him. However, she suddenly stopped and turned back with a mischievous grin. "Uh oh," she said, glancing back at Niles over her shoulder. Niles, who had been yawning, immediately straightened up upon hearing Shine's tone. He knew that when it came to her, "uh oh" could mean anything from playful mischief to dangerous trouble. "What's going on?" he asked anxiously. Shine pointed to a group of grey-clad soldiers approaching from beyond the Prison gates. "Militia. Conscriptors, by the looks of it. They've really been ramping up lately." she explained with a careless shrug. "Too bad felons don't qualify."
"Shit!" Niles hissed, ducking low as he frantically pulled at the junction levers, steam coughing out of the rigs exhaust stacks.
"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, maybe not," Shine called out with a sly smile as she hung her foot over the edge of the deck before adding one final, overly emphasized word to her farewell: "Captain." Then, with a quick leap, she was gone.