Back in the present, Amelia was strapped into a seat bolted to a workbench, where she struggled to saw through a length of pipe clamped to the table, while steel filings floated through the room, which had gotten all over and into everything. The blood-like taste was unavoidable, because the filings were even in her mouth, despite the fact she’d put a lump of magnetite near the pipe, in the hopes it would attract them, a job it wasn’t being entirely effective at.
She coughed, then sneezed, bothered by the fact she was very likely getting sick.
The workshop of Starwitch was the largest room in the ship and was filled with the very best equipment Amelia had been able to take with her, including a lathe, several steam engines, which she’d been occasionally drinking from, workbenches designed for zero-G, which included adjustable seats with straps that could be moved from one end to the next, and all the manual tools one might need, in three full sets. The room occupied half the living space of the ship, but it was worth it.
Behind Amelia, on the opposite side of the workshop, one of the benches had been built specifically to hold The Book of Newts, which included a lectern with clamps to hold the cover, while a pair of clamps with spring-loaded jaws gently held the pages down, for the sake of reading in zero-G.
It wasn’t at all the same, using a saw in zero-G, but she managed to cut twelve identical pieces from the pipe, each about six inches long, strapping them to her waist as she completed them. With the pipes cut, she confirmed they were the right length with a ruler, then used a pipe threader to add threads suitable for bolts at either end of six and at only one end for the others.
After a bit of rummaging in a cabinet above the workbench, she produced some bolts and used them to cap one end of half the pipes.
Next, she slid her seat to the other end of the bench, where she’d modified a router to operate by hand crank and painstakingly used it to cut an open slot along one side of six of the ones with the bolts, which ran from the end of the bolt to nearly the other end. The other pipes got only a small hole drilled in them, near the threaded end, though it was in a very precise position.
After a bit more rummaging, she produced a set of threaded, steel parts she’d machined for the purpose on the ground, as part of an experiment she’d given up on. She screwed one into a pipe, opposite the bolt, to test the fit. Each was basically a very short pipe with threads that fit into the pipes she’d just made, but the interior was much smaller. They looked as though they were designed to join a pair of pipes together, end to end.
After admiring her work for a moment, Amelia rummaged in her supplies for a set of six long, stiff springs and a set of small, metal rods with round plates on one end, another left-over from the same experiment. The rods were just small enough to fit through the smaller diameter of the threaded joiner parts, though the plate at the end would not. Curiously, each of the plates had an even smaller rod sticking out to one side, at a ninety-degree angle to the long one, no more than half an inch in length.
She unscrewed the joiner she’d just added and slid one of the springs inside the pipe, followed by one of the rods, plate first, with the smaller rod at the lead, aimed to line up with the slot cut into the pipe. She slid the joiner down the rod, then sealed the end of the pipe with it, using a wrench to secure it and the bolt in place, leaving the spring partially compressed, inside.
The end result was a spring that could be compressed by hauling back on the little rod sticking out the slot in the pipe, an action Amelia tested, producing a loud, metallic slapping sound as she released the spring and the plunger rod came to the end of its motion! Amelia took one of the pipes that was threaded at only one end and screwed it in place on the threads of the other side of the joiner.
When she was done with it, she repeated the process five more times.
Grateful to be done with the messy work, she grabbed the lump of magnetite, then spoke the witch’s words for ‘stone’, ‘draw and ’metal’. The minor spell made her even more exhausted, but she managed to increase the stone’s magnetic properties, until the rest of the filings were cleared from the air, leaving only the ones that were in her mouth and nose.
Producing a handkerchief from a pocket, Amelia blew her nose as hard as she could, then inspected the result, unsurprised to see her mucous was full of dark motes and a little blood. She hadn’t entirely been expecting the blood, which was worrying, but she suspected she’d gotten an infection from the Dead Queen’s zombie soldiers. There were supplies for making potions among the food stores, but Amelia had so little water, she dare not use any of it unless she had to, and her health could take a hit for the short term, at least until her plan came to fruition. After that, she’d either have her sisters back or she’d be dead.
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Amelia opened a cabinet and hauled out another part she’d made back in Dugaria, a prototype handle for a spring-gonne, which included a trigger linked to a half-finished clockwork mechanism that included six brass rings of the same size as the pipes she’d been working with. It also included a handle with a loop on the end, which was meant to be pulled to cock the weapon. After a little more rummaging, she produced a little box full of little, brass gears.
She worked for a time to assemble the prototype, handheld spring-gonne. She had some trouble with the gearing mechanism, because the parts were so fiddly and required precise placement, but in the end, she was able to pull the cocking ring back, which readied one of the barrels by cocking the spring, a task that took most of her strength. She looked down the barrel in question and confirmed a little retention pin had popped up, through the little hole in the side of the barrel. She cocked the other five and confirmed they were also in working order.
In her mind’s eye, a lead ball would slide down the barrel of each, followed by cocking the weapon six times, while pointing it upward, which would ready the weapon and incidentally raise the retention pins that would prevent the ammunition from falling out if tipped the wrong way. The device was a handheld spring-gonne, which would give Amelia six shots, in rapid succession, if required. The spring behind each barrel was a real nasty piece of work, with all the power of a crossbow, but at a much smaller size.
Back in Dugaria, she’d given up on the design, because it hadn’t been flashy enough to serve as a distraction for the demonstration, since the King had specifically requested vehicle-mounted weapons with the power of a ballista, though she still thought a small weapon was better than a big one and she particularly liked how all of the delicate, clockwork parts were hidden by the barrels holding the springs. It had been a pain to design the rotating cocking and release mechanisms, but the surprise factor of the small device would be worth it.
Amelia steeled her nerves and looked down the barrels as she discharged them, confirming the retention pins had dropped down a fraction of a second before the plungers slammed forward.
She was looking forward to pointing her hand-gonne in the Dead Queen’s face. As that vengeful thought struck her, she found her mind drifting to many years before.
Amelia was eight years old and her mother had caught her in the yard, torturing a grasshopper, as children sometimes do. She’d cut its back legs off with a scalpel, only to sew them back on, curious to see if they would work after she was done. Quite naturally, they hadn’t. It had all been in the name of learning how things worked, but Mother hadn’t seen it that way.
“You must never harm any living thing without an important purpose.” Mother only half-scolded, because she was dealing with a child that didn’t know better, just after she’d put the suffering creature out of its misery, with a boot.
Amelia asked one of her favorite questions, “Why?”
“You hurt that grasshopper and it was in pain. Would you like it if someone punched you?”
“We kill animals to eat them, don’t we?” Amelia was confused by the seeming contradiction.
Mother sighed and explained, “People are more important than animals, it’s true, and we do raise them to eat, but we should never hurt them unless we have a need to and when we have a need, we should take care to never be cruel. They should feel as little pain as possible.”
Amelia looked down at the squashed bug and pointed, “Okay, but why did you kill it?”
“To release its soul from the suffering you forced it to endure.” Mother answered, “It’s a mercy to kill an animal that can’t be healed, far better than letting it linger in life longer than it should.”
“I’m sorry Mama.” Amelia looked up as the gravity of what she’d done settled in, “I just wanted to learn how it worked.”
Mother smiled and nodded, “I know, but will you make me a promise?”
Amelia nodded and waited to hear what Mother had to say.
“Please promise me you’ll never hurt an animal without a need to, ever again.” Mother requested.
“I promise.” Amelia nodded.
Mother smiled, then went on, “And promise me you’ll never hurt people.”
Amelia was less enthusiastic about that idea, because lots of the village boys were spiteful creatures that seemed to get no end of pleasure from tormenting her. She wouldn’t understand why for another year, but it was because she was smarter than most of them, including the teens.
“What if they’re mean?” Amelia asked in a sour tone.
“Especially then. Promise me.”
Amelia sighed and nodded, “I promise.”
Amelia had taken that promise to heart and done her best to never harm any living creature, unless it was necessary, like knocking “Killer” Krauss cold, to save her sisters. Technically, that had broken the promise she’d made, but it had been one life balanced against three and Amelia hadn’t been striking to kill.
Her mind wandered to her brief stay aboard the monolith and the moaning of the zombies, who’d sounded as if they were in pain. In her mind, it would be no sin to put them down, nor would it violate the promise she’d made. In fact, it would be an act of mercy that spared them from more suffering.
As for the Dead Queen, she was an abomination that needed to be put down, like a rabid dog. That was also a form of mercy killing and it would be the same with the Dead Queen. It would also save the lives of witches, not the least of which were Amelia’s sisters.
Still, anger and vengeance had no place in the matter, but Amelia had a hard time setting them aside, because the souls of Marta and Iris were in danger.
Amelia blamed herself for that, however, wishing she’d just left things alone, for once. She turned her head and looked at The Book of Newts, because it had been involved in every strange turn her life had taken.
