I feel bad for Turing, here. All his dreams, everyone's dreams, of the emancipatory power of machine intelligence and the new information age. And out of it comes the Lady Colossus, who honestly just seems like a dick. There's something appropriately sour and rotten about the nation that murdered him sainting him ex post facto, and about Lady Colossus taking up and reformating around themselves the imperial ideology of the Eternal Empire in much the same way that the Christianity of Emperor Constantine and Augustine of Hippo has become far more Roman than it is the sect of a wandering Judean rabbi.
Also calling it now, but the Mechanical Turks are trying to artificially build a new goddess such as the fourth Lady and/or break and modify an old spirit into a new one, and/or like frankenstein several spirits together into one overall newly divine concept. A new spirit of humanity to challenge the status quo or something.
Our illustrious author would be able to answer this best, but in the meantime here is what I've noticed.
This work is based most heavily on the steampunk genre. Note the emphasis on coal over gas in the latest chapter for example (would Enterprise using gas make this a dieselpunk story as well?).
The genre often uses alternate histories and wild technology.
The British Empire often features heavily because of the aesthetic matches the time period when Britain was leading the industrial revolution.
For example: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or the Leviathan Trilogy (okay the Brits are biopunk in that one, but you get the idea).
The work also appears to be drawing heavily on the Moe anthropomorphism genre.
For example, Kantai Collection and its many derivatives.
Because of course, @DragonCobolt has to have his sex scenes with technically not human women.
Though I consider it to his credit he went all in and made them spirits of technology/industry and rewrote the world's history to match.
It's not actually based on any fiction (beyond being a steampunk story and drawing on those ideas), but it's drawing on real history! Like, the mechanical turk was a real (scam) that existed in the 1800s, Colossus was the world's fist supercomputer, Trinity was the site of the first atomic test site and so on.
Zimmerman walked forward, the door opening, then shutting behind her. She had snatched up her vestments too. As she left, Nix slid down the wall, panting. She let her head rest back against the wall. "Fuck," she whimpered. She had seen too much violence, been touched by too much...insanity. Was this what all Americans were like, if you scratched their surface? She tried to picture what kind of world had sculpted someone who implanted radioactives into their body and praised the Demon Core. Even in her scriptures, the Demon Core was…
Feels like we got Sister Slotin instead of Sister Zimmerman really.
Absolutely mad.
Anyway, a few assorted thoughts. If spirits are personifications of machinery, how come the robots need to be possessed by an analytical engine, instead of having a spirit of it's own.
How abstract can spirits be. We know that London's pneumatic tube system has them. Do ordinary road systems? Urban planning? The electrical grid (is there an electrical grid, or is it all Eduson style short range DC power and direct steam?
Can there be a spirit of the Technician's organization, and that spirit-indistrial complex?
If spirits are personifications of machinery, how come the robots need to be possessed by an analytical engine, instead of having a spirit of it's own.
The robot could have a spirit too, but the analytical engines are noted as being particularly biddable. The spirits are also more complex if their machines are more complex.
The spirits seem to be able to influence their machine form, but we've seen no proof they can physically control it. Narration notes that airship lady's satisfaction manifested in tightened bolts, brighter lights, etc. What machinery works, works better, with extreme cases of running quite literally on hopes and prayers. But there is still crew tending them.
Analytical engine, meanwhile, can control the machinery on its own. Technically you could even build such a robot IRL, assuming you solved issues with size, programming and figured out how to transfer engine's output into commands, but analytical engine is essentially a very fancy calculator, which is the same thing that modern robot-controlling computers are.
At the end of the day, an automaton is a suit of plate mail with a machine gun - not very complex, not enough to bring forth something capable of deciding when and where to aim and shoot.
How abstract can spirits be. We know that London's pneumatic tube system has them. Do ordinary road systems? Urban planning? The electrical grid (is there an electrical grid, or is it all Eduson style short range DC power and direct steam?
At the end of the day, an automaton is a suit of plate mail with a machine gun - not very complex, not enough to bring forth something capable of deciding when and where to aim and shoot
Ah right, they're cheating. No actual robot parts in there.
Funnily enough, if one were to build an actual mechanical turk in this universe, the complexity if the gearwirk required to connect the Turk above to the dwarf below might be sufficient to make it actually work.
Our illustrious author would be able to answer this best, but in the meantime here is what I've noticed.
This work is based most heavily on the steampunk genre. Note the emphasis on coal over gas in the latest chapter for example (would Enterprise using gas make this a dieselpunk story as well?).
The genre often uses alternate histories and wild technology.
The British Empire often features heavily because of the aesthetic matches the time period when Britain was leading the industrial revolution.
For example: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or the Leviathan Trilogy (okay the Brits are biopunk in that one, but you get the idea).
The work also appears to be drawing heavily on the Moe anthropomorphism genre.
For example, Kantai Collection and its many derivatives.
Because of course, @DragonCobolt has to have his sex scenes with technically not human women.
Though I consider it to his credit he went all in and made them spirits of technology/industry and rewrote the world's history to match.
Nix whetted her lips and took a step backwards from Enterprise. The spirit was beginning to stand, and...good god, she was lovely. Nix had noticed it from the moment the burlap and chains had come off, but seeing her gray and red painted form standing in a circle of discarded broken gear charms, her feet resting steadily on the ground – bare and gently arched, with the nimble articulation of ankle joint and knee belying the power that lurked in those muscular, polished metal thighs. The dainty, rubbery folds of her cunt, nestled beneath a flat belly that could launch a full wing of planes that were now legends in their own rights: Marauders, Mustangs, Avengers, Doolittles. And she had...almost too impressive a chest.
Often, tits on a warship's spirit could reflect armor belting, or main guns, or a mixture of both. The actual spiritual classifications was...murky and relied more on gut, intuition, and knacks passed from father to son. Or, unwitting father to eavesdropping daughter in this case. But something in Nix's gut said that while Enterprise had a gorgeous bust, it was also...subtly wrong. She shook her head slightly as Enterprise lifted one hand, flexing her fingers, then curling them into a fist. "How long was I in the dark?" the spirit asked.
"It is the year of our lord 2141," Nix said, automatically. Honesty, she thought, was the best choice for a spirit that had radar. That thing had powers that modern technicians didn't quite remember how to handle – it had been newfangled when the War of Ascension had been young, and long left to molder and rot because of...well…
Humans liked their spirits to be understood. Steam? You could grasp steam and valves and clockwork and copper wire. You could relate to a train, or to a telephone. Radar? Calculating machines? They had a way of making people nervous in the way that they could do things that their creators never intended. And those were just the start. The War, after all, had been named such for a reason. It was the coming of the Lady Trinity…
And after that?
Nothing was the same.
Enterprise snorted. "Yeah, sure, fuckin' pull the other one," she said, her voice somehow combining utter arrogance with drawling Colonial tones that Nix had never heard say a non-servile thing in her life. "Two fucking hundred years?" She walked away from her, to the window, looking out at the skyline. "Where's the fuckin' flying cars then?"
"It has been two centuries since the War of Ascension," Nix said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"The fucking what?" Enterprise asked. "That sure ain't the name for it I got. World War Two? We had to whip the Nazis, you even heard of em? Why the fuck you calling it the War of...whatever." She waved her hand. "Don't tell me they made FDR king or some stupid bullshit."
"Who?" Nix asked.
"Who?" Enterprise's turbines revved and she put her hands on her hair – which did...really quite amazing things to her breasts. Nix was finding her normal Technician savoir faire hard to keep...down around this spirit. It wasn't just that she was gorgeous. Nix had been around gorgeous spirits ever since she had pinned gear to collar. No. It was...it was everything about her. The history. The Yankee accent. The arrogance. Like she was as good as an English spirit. Nix shook her head a bit and tried to focus on Enterprise, frowning a bit. "You don't...he was fucking Franklin Delano goddamn Roosevelt, we only elected him four times."
"Listen, Yankee-"
"I ain't no Yankee!" Enterprise snapped. "My keel was laid in Newport News, Virginia."
Nix frowned, then took a slow breath. She breathed out. "My apologies, Enterprise," she said, inclining her head. "It's been two hundred years and a lot has changed."
Enterprise frowned. "Whose President now?" She asked. "Truman?"
Nix flinched, then held up her hand, shaking her head. "D-Don't. Don't mention Truman around other people. They won't understand." She sighed. "B-But...I suppose I must...cut to the chase…" She hesitated. She was thinking, too much, of how strong a gas burning power plant was. She put it out of her mind. An aircraft carrier was still...almost within the realm of human understanding. It wasn't like she was one of the Ladies, eh? So, Nix continued, her voice gentling. "The Ascension War, what you call the Second World War, was ended when...the Lady Trinity turned her wrath upon America. I'm sorry. The United States is gone."
Enterprise blinked slowly. "Who the fuck is Trinity? S...She some...Jap weapon or-" She sounded frightened. Shocked.
"No," Nix said. "The Lady Trinity was a spirit built by the Thirteen Apostles and the Prophet Oppenheimer. She...she was a spirit more powerful than anything ever built before, powerful enough to scorch the world. She brought fire to the Japanese, then as the War continued on into Korea, she was almost bridled by...President Truman. He sought, in his jealousy, to keep her wrath from Korea and China, and so she turned her fury upon America. In the aftermath, the Empire returned to her colonies to restore order and, for the past two hundred years, have ruled here and abroad under the Lady Colossus."
Enterprise blinked again, her lips parting, then closing, then opening again. "I…" she said, then slowly, she sat down on the ground, thumping down with such shocking suddenness that the floor jarred and her knees pressed to her chest. "Jesus Christ…"
Nix stepped over, then knelt down beside her. The cheap carpeting didn't provide enough cushioning for her knees, but she ignored it. Her arm slid around Enterprise's shoulder, squeezing. "I know it's hard, Enterprise," she whispered. "But the Empire isn't so bad – we've kept the colonies running, and kept the wastelanders off the east coast and-"
Enterprise put her hands over her face. She breathed in, then breathed out. "Shut up."
Nix went quiet.
Enterprise drew her hands away, her eyes haunted. "What the fuck do I...do?" She looked at Nix. "I-I'm a warship. Right? Enterprise is...my body's sunk beneath the goddamn ocean, how the fuck am I supposed to do anything? What good am I?"
"Ships have been re-floated after centuries," Nix said, hurriedly. "There are quite a few sailing ships-"
"Sailing ship spirits are as slow as a hunting hound that got dropped on its head when it was a puppy!" Enterprise snapped. "They're too stupid to know they should sink."
Nix, remembering some childhood hours spent on her father's little windjammer, winced. Harsh, but...not entirely unfair. She shook her head. "Here's what you can do, Enterprise. You can help me. My niece is being held at gunpoint by some very awful gentlemen, and they want you for some...reason. If I don't deliver you to them, then my niece dies. We can at least get to the bottom of their schemes and make sure my Jessie is safe, then, after, we can find something for you to do. I promise." She slid her hand around, taking Enterprise's, squeezing.
Cold gray fingers, slipping between her own. The joint seams caught momentarily against her skin. Enterprise didn't fold her fingers, not at first. Instead, she muttered. "Your sister's a limey too, huh?"
"She did marry a Colonial," Nix said, smiling a bit wryly.
Enterprise sighed. She closed her hand, then squeezed – too firmly. Nix hissed and winced, her voice soft. "C-Careful, careful."
"Hmm? Oh, sorry," Enterprise said. She released Nix's hand, which throbbed gently. Nix shook her hand out then smiled at her. "So, do they let dames be technicians these days?"
"H-Heh, uh, I actually am a man," Nix said, grinning a little bit. She had to start building up her disguise – even if it felt increasingly threadbare, like a blanket held between a man and a rising mushroom cloud.
Enterprise looked at her and arched an eyebrow. "You're most certainty not a man."
Nix flushed, slightly. "Hell," she whispered, looking away.
Enterprise smirked, then shifted around, drawing one foot under herself, waggling a long finger at Nix. "Ohhhh, I know what your deal is, limey. You're one of them broads who dresses up as a man and pretends they've got a stick and berries so they can do a man's job! There were two of 'em in the fleet, I remember them now! You're a woman Technician!"
"Y-Yes, fine!" Nix snapped. "I'm a woman Technician."
"That's not allowed," Enterprise said, grinning.
"Hence my disguise," Nix said. "Most spirits don't notice the difference."
Enterprise snorted. "What, do you just fuck boilers and coal chugging trains?"
"Yes," Nix said, frowning. "They haven't made gas burning ships like you for almost a hundred and ninety years."
Enterprise blinked slightly. "Huh," she said. "So, wait, you're saying, not only am I two hundred years outta time, but I'm not even fucking obsolete?"
"I never said that," Nix said, firmly.
Enterprise grinned, then reached up, cupping Nix's cheek. "You wanna save your fuckin' kid niece?" She leaned in. "Then I want you to do something for me after. I want you to take me to my body, and I want you to help me raise her. No questions asked. Otherwise-"
"I'll do it," Nix said, simply.
Enterprise blinked, her cocky grin faltering slightly. "Just like that?"
Nix chuckled. "You're not obsolete, exactly. But the Empire has a fleet of atomic airships and her Lady Trinity. I don't think a single aircraft carrier is going to make a repeat of the 18th century."
Enterprise snorted. "Ye of little fuckin' faith," she said.
The two of them were quite close, Nix noticed. Enterprise's nose almost touched hers, and her camera-lens eyes glittered as she looked into Nix's. Nix had never had a spirit be quite so...on top as Enterprise was, and the idea excited her as much as it confused her. She opened her mouth, to speak...found no words, closed her lips, then shifted – but if it was to draw away or push in, she didn't know which. Before the decision could crystallize, before the track lever could be thrown and a trolley plunge down one rout or the other, the door burst open and Sister Vengeance Zimmerman entered, carrying a small bag of brown paper stuffed with fragrant scents. She hesitated, her robes clinking, as her goggled eyes peered down the beak nose of her ornate mask.
"Well!" she said, her voice amused. "It seems the votive candles weren't required after all?"
Enterprise was on her feet in a flash, floating in the air between Nix and Zimmerman, her arms held up and her fists clenched.
"Who the fuck are you?" she snapped.
"I am a Sister of-" Zimmerman started.
"She's a friend," Nix said, unsure if that was actually the case. "Her name's Zimmerman. Vengeance Zimmerman."
Enterprise cocked her head, then frowned. "You're...something's fucking wrong with you, Sister."
Zimmerman chuckled. "Naught is wrong with me, my child-spirit," she said. "The fire of Trinity burns within me, and that invigoration is more than enough." She tossed the bag onto the bed, her hands reaching up to take the hat from her head. "Now, Spirit, I had a discussion I wished to hold with Technician Nixon."
"Nixon, huh?" Enterprise glanced back at Nix.
"Marion Nixon," Nix said. "You can call me Nix."
Enterprise nodded.
"I believe we have a holy prayer to say together, Miss Nixon and I," Zimmerman said.
Enterprise narrowed her eyes. "...you wanna munch her carpet is what you fucking mean," she said, bluntly. "God, I get unwrapped for one day, and I'm still fuckin' surrounded by queers." She snorted, slightly. "They were good sailors. But none of em pretended to be some fucked up nun."
Zimmerman was silent for some time. "Astute, for a spirit."
"It's the radar," Nix said, blushing hard. "Enterprise, you mustn't say such things so…" She paused. "Bluntly. And to a nun." She paused, then muttered. "Even if she is a bloody lunatic."
Enterprise snorted. "Listen, I don't give a shit who you fuck, Zims," she said, causing the big, burly woman to tense slightly. "I just don't want you to fuck up my Tech here." She gestured back to Nix. "She's all the chance I got at getting what I want."
Zimmerman chuckled. "I promise to you. I wish only to pray with the child."
Enterprise frowned, then nodded. "She means it," she said, quietly.
Nix had a sinking, uncertain feeling in her belly – and an excited flutter of butterflies to go with it. She knew that Zimmerman was the exact kind of woman who could feel with utter fervor and certainty in her heart that she would not sin, oh yes, right until she was alone in a room with a girl. Then her fingers would be inside her and her hands all over her body. And Nix hated how part of her wanted that. She hadn't been touched by another human woman in...ever...and the idea was as intoxicating as if she had found an oasis in the desert. Just why did it have to be this woman in particular? Even if her shoulders were so broad and her fervor was almost infectious and- no. She wouldn't think along that line anymore.
Enterprise looked back at Zimmerman, clearly unsure about Nix's silence. "I'm Enterprise, by the way."
Zimmerman's breathing stopped. Very quietly, she said: "Ah. How...providential." She said, quietly. "I must pray, long and hard, to Christ for seeing fit to bless us with this glory…"
Nix wasn't a girl to dither.
She was going to tell Zimmerman to go take a cold shower.
She just needed to…
To…
The memory of those warm hands. The feeling of an actual human's skin on her. The scent of her sweat. Fuck.
"...we can pray," she said, quietly.
Damn it, damn it, damn it, this was a mistake.
Enterprise flushed. "Fine. I'll go…" She looked around the room, then spotted the adjoining bathroom. "I'll wait in there. And try and remember more about myself."
"See that you do, spirit, walk in the name of Christ and her Lady Trinity," Zimmerman said, gesturing a little quick cruciform gear shape with her right hand. Enterprise looked faintly baffled, then stepped into the bathroom. The door closed as Nix flushed, then whispered quietly.
"Do you know what it means that she's-"
Zimmerman placed her finger on her lip.
"Shhh. The Lord God is just and kind to his Children," she murmured. "His wisdom is self evident. Now, we must give thanks." She gestured. "Kneel."
In which Nix makes a mistake because crazy is hot
Nix knelt down, her knees complaining slightly. Zimmerman breathed slowly in, placing her gloved finger onto Nix's forehead – then quietly, she whispered. "In the name of Christ…" She slid her finger along Nix's brow, down to her nose, down to her lips. "...you are a tempting apple." She shivered under her robes and pushed her finger into Nix's lips. Nix wanted to think something sarcastic and cutting – that didn't take long – but her only thought was how warm the leather felt against her tongue. She looked up into those goggled eyes, her head swimming. Spirits and humans were different. That's why this felt so very wrong, and oh so very right, all at the same time.
She closed her teeth down and held on fast as Zimmerman drew her hand out. The glove went limp and those strong, calloused fingers pressed into Nix's scalp, sliding through her hair. Her palm covered Nix's nose and Nix let out a soft whimper as she breathed in the heavy sweat of her. The warmth of that covered implant mounted on Zimmerman's wrist shone against her face, making her lips feel almost chapped with it. Zimmerman whispered something that might have been Latin – Nix couldn't quite make it out underneath the mask. Her other hand, though, was lifting her robes up and Nix watched as she saw muscular thighs, the tight underclothes, the broad, slightly chubby belly of the Radwalker nun.
Zimmerman crooned. "Sinner's reward, my little Nix." She dragged her forward, underneath the robes, and in the warmth and the darkness, Nix made a terrible mistake. She breathed in – and her head swam with the scent of the other woman. Zimmerman carried so much weight in metal, it was why her body was seamed with thick slabs of muscle. It meant she sweated and that stink coated the inside of Nix's nose like a drug. Her tongue licked along bared skin and then found leather thong. She nuzzled at it, her hands reaching up. Under the weighty press of leaded robes, under those darkness, she pulled down and felt the warm rasp of Zimmerman, of Vengeance's, pubic hair against her nose and her lips. Her tongue lapped and she tasted her juices, tangy and rich.
"Mmmm," Vengeance crooned. "Those without Sin can walk in the flames of Cherenkov without burning - oh my lady Trinity, show us your blessings…" She flexed muscles all over her body and the tiny clicks and clacks of her implants unfolding rang loud in Nix's ears. Suddenly, the interior of her robes were bathed in an eerie bluish light, warm and hazy, and Nix's eyes filled with a faint smeary blur as her brain buzzed with the warmth and heat of a killing haze of radiation. Her body tingled and she groaned out a desperate prayer, fear and lust burning inside of her as hot as the rads.
"O-Oh my Lady Trini-mmpph!" She moaned as Vengeance pushed forward with hand and hips, burying Nix's needy face against her cunt. Nix licked desperately – and the blessing of Trinity sang in her veins. She was ministering to her daughter, after all? Was that how this worked? Nix didn't know – the sin and the sacrament were mixing and she was so far beyond the pale of normal Technical work...she was entirely at sea. But what she knew was the taste, and the bucking of hips, and the soft groan of the huge woman above her. Those strong, callosed fingers clenched tightly and Nix tilted her head back, craning her neck so she could drive her tongue in deep. Her hands went to the muscular ass of the other woman, squeezing her greedily.
"Ah, blessed be," Vengeance groaned hungrily. Her panting was coming heavily now. "The fires burn in your veins, do they not? Ah, you may be an Englishwoman, but you have the old time religion in you, the proper spirit, moving you! To! Deeds!" She groaned deeper still and pushed herself even harder against Nix. The warm flood of her juices soaked Nix's tongue – and Nix drank and drank and drank, her eyes fluttering shut. Then the snick of closing implants and the sudden end of the warmth left her mewling.
The robes were cast aside with a rustling flare and Nix found herself falling backwards as Vengeance let herself down, her bulk pressing Nix onto her back as she sat upon Nix's face. Nix, a more slender and slight woman by comparison, kicked her legs, struggled. She couldn't quite breathe, and the weight of the other woman was overpowering. But Vengeance didn't seem to care. Her hands planted above Nix's head as she leaned forward, bucking her hips slowly against Nix's face. "Ah yes, lick, lick you little English whore," she growled. "Soak up the sin and afterwards, we shall be purified in pain and fire and blood together."
Nix trembled, then found the other woman's clit. She sucked on her, almost desperately – she didn't want to get crushed. Her hand slid up and under, and she thrust two fingers into the soft folds of her sex. She crooked them, like she was ministering on a spirit. From the hungry moan, muffled only by that thick mask, Nix had a feeling that she had gotten the right target. One of Vengeance's hands grabbed onto her hair, holding her tightly as she bucked again, and again, she came. Nix drank from her, then pushed with one hand, drawing her head back at the same time. Vengeance was slow to respond – but she did lift one knee and let Nix sit up gasping.
"Are you insane?" she asked. "You could have suffocated me!"
"Ah, you are too skinny," Vengeance rumbled. She grabbed onto Nix's arms, hauling her up. Nix squirmed, struggled, but her top came off, revealing her breasts to the worlds. Those breasts were immediately cupped from behind. She choked back her own moan as Vengeance played with her. The long beak-nose of her mask rubbed against Nix's cheek as she leaned over her shoulder. "I like it."
"You like molesting your students, I'm not shocked…" Nix muttered.
"And yet-" Vengeance tugged on her nipples, hard enough to draw a soft mewling gasp from Nix. She was grinning, Nix could hear it. "You are mewling for my touch, little one."
"Fuck you," Nix whispered, then gasped as she was pushed into bed. She landed and, ugh, was already taking off her pants. She shoved them down, revealing her own sex, her own glimmering arousal. Vengeance was not taking clothes off – instead, she was sliding another on. A massive strap-on, glistening with some lubrication she had applied with a swipe of her gloved hand, her ungloved hand tightening the leather straps that wrapped around her thighs. Nix let out a quiet whimper. "Y-You're not serious?"
"Heh," Vengeance crooned. Her hand snaked out, grabbing onto Nix's ankle, yanking her up and spreading her legs. "Praise Mary and Joseph, Trinity and the Holy ghost, this is going to be a nice pussy." She looped one hand under the small of Nix's back, lifting her as if she were nothing but a toy – and with a brutal eagerness that Nix hated and loved in equal measures, she thrust deep into her. Nix turned her head, biting down onto her own wrist to not moan from pure pleasure as her sex spread. She had been the top for so long...but being under Vengeance, being taken by the muscular, powerful woman, it was…
Intoxicating.
Heavy, meaty slaps filled the air as Vengeance's hips drove against Nix's again and again, and Nix took her strap with eager, husky moans, her arm falling away. She couldn't help it, not anymore. She moaned in bliss, in pleasure, in needy want, her back arching as she groaned and came and came and came again, her eyes fluttering half shut as she reached up, playing with the nun's breasts, tugging her nipples, leaning up to kiss and suck on them eagerly as Vengeance moved atop her, holding her down with her bulk. And that was just for when they were on their backs. Later, Vengeance pulled Nix onto her hands and her knees and began to take her from behind, as if she were some animal.
Nix loved it.
She came and clenched so many times she lost count – and her voice grew hoarse. And still, the almost demonic energy of Vengeance Zimmerman went on and on. She kept praying above her as well – whispering out snatches of scripture that Nix recognized, and quasi-religious ramblings that Nix thought she might have been inventing from whole cloth. And through it all, one gloved hand and one ungloved hand roamed over Nix's body, caressing, touching, tugging, squeezing.
At long last, the avalanche wound slowly down, and Nix sprawled next to the muscular nun, both of them panting quietly. Nix trembled, her thighs aching, her legs feeling like they might not be able to close ever again. She squirmed, her eyes half closed, and managed to sit up. In the silence, she looked down at Zimmerman, biting her lip hard. The Radwalker was still half dressed – her mask was still on, though her hat had fallen aside and her head was still covered in a cowl, and she still wore her strap. It glistened, thrusting turgidly into the air, proud as if she really had a dick.
Nix bit her lip.
Slowly, she reached for the mask.
Zimmerman's hand lashed out, grabbing her wrist, squeezing so tightly it was painful.
"My secrets are mine own, Marion Nixon," Zimmerman growled. "Now...ah...we shall pray in the morning…" She slid her arm around Nix's shoulders, then drew her against her side. "Understood?"
Nix frowned. Her voice was soft. "You're a mad, you know?"
"Those that see truth often are. Now be silent, lest I teach you with my palm, rather than my strap."
Nix frowned harder.
This had been a mistake.
So, why had it felt so fucking good?
***
Nix, still aching as the morning light spread over Burned York, stood outside the cheap hotel, tapping her foot and wishing that she could be more sure about Miss Rhina – only to have a playful voice speak from her shoulder.
"You are quite hard to find when you want to be, Mr. Nixon," Miss Rhina said.
Nix turned and forced the she and the her back into the rear of his mind – he was Mr. Nixon now. Mr. Nixon. He smiled and nodded. "Did you find the phone?"
"I did," Miss Rhina said, then gestured with her hand.
The telephone that stepped around the corner was relatively new – her body was mostly blue light, bands of crackling electricity bounded in thick cabling that looked almost like a corset. Nix grinned at her as the telephone squeaked. "O-Oh wow, you were right, Miss Rhina, Mr. Nixon is very handsome! Oh!" She gasped, as Nix took her hand, then gestured with his hand to send Miss Rhina away from the nearby alleyway. There, Nix whispered soft words in the telephone's ear – and his palm cupped between her thighs. He found her clit and rubbed gently, and those soft words became sung in a quiet cadence, tapping into one of the many ancient phrases that had been carried from technician to technician.
When he was done, the telephone was looking quivering and stunned, and Nix was carrying a pair of small glassy beads. He twirled them between his fingers, his voice soft. "These are one of the Technicians closer guarded secrets – the how, at least."
"A portable phone?" Miss Rhina asked, shocked.
"Until she rescinds her gift, or is ordered to by her owner," Nix said, casually, tucking the bead into his ear. "Simple."
"You have a remarkable bundle of tricks, Mr. Nixon," Miss Rhina said. "I was told that making these takes more money than I made in a lifetime."
Nix grinned. "Now, go on, get out of here. My associates are going to be out soon and you do not want to meet her."
"I will be listening in," Miss Rhina said, then bowed.
"Yes, I'm...sure you will," Nix said.
Miss Rhina started off – and soon, she had vanished among the crowd. Nix squared his shoulder, then caught the phone's arm as she wobbled out of the alleyway. "Before you head home," he said, quietly. "If you ever hear someone referring to me as a woman...can you edit that to sound like they're calling me a man?"
"Of course, Mr. Nixon," The telephone said, then blushed. "...for a kiss?"
Nix grinned, then pushed the phone back into the alleyway.
When Nix emerged, Sister Zimmerman stood on the sidewalk, her plague mask angled to the sky, her goggles glinting. "Ah, what a beauteous day to work His will," she said, quietly, arms spreading wide, as if to welcome the sun. "As she Burns in heaven, she burns in us all, does she not, Mr. Nixon?" she asked, her voice emphasizing the Mr. with clear sarcasm. Behind her, Enterprise stepped out into the street, looking utterly humiliated. Getting the proud ship to accept the new shape that she now wore had taken three buckets of paint and an hour of cajoling. It wouldn't fool a technician, but the average passer-by would see her as nothing more than a train spirit, her body daubed in those colors, even if some of the paint lines had run and started to drip.
"This is fucking humiliating," Enterprise grumbled.
"It only has to last until we reach the hand off site," Nix said, nodding.
They started to walk and as they walked, Enterprise muttered in Nix's ear. "What is your plan for that, exactly?"
"Well, once we hand you over, I can get my niece safe," Nix whispered back. "And I will be able to track you. Radio emits a signal that can be tracked by telephone and similar spirits – there's enough overlap, I think I can cajole one into being a hound dog and sniff after you. Then, I just need to rescue you."
"Oh I do not like this plan," Enterprise muttered.
"I will do my best to ensure that any binding rituals they place on you are...not effective," Nix added, hurriedly. "They'll need me to do it, I am the Technician."
Enterprise looked faintly mollified at that.
The trio went down into one of the entrances to the Underground – these places were situated throughout Burned York, though many of them had been left to rot since the 20th century. Many of them opened to streets that had been left to return to parkland, or had been converted to some other purpose. Those that survived and were in the right places had been expanded and improved, with the subway system reconstructed and a new, somewhat smaller and less powerful spirit awakened on the bones of the old.
Heading down into the train station, they were in a rather beautifully lit brass and woodwork decorated area, with an electric system for the train that was run on an atomic boiler located somewhere in the walls. The ceiling was decorated by a large bass relief of Prometheus giving tools to mankind, while stacks of newspapers were racked up by the ticket counter for buying. Lots of people were reading newspapers, while others made conversations. Quite a few glanced at Enterprise, then glanced away. Enterprise was looking around herself slowly, her lips turning down in a frown as she took in this alien world.
Nix paid for the tickets, while the teller frowned over his shoulder. "That a Radwarden?" he asked.
"Yeah, from the wastelands," Nix said. Then, in the biggest lie he had ever told – and that counted the years long deception about his gender – he said: "She's harmless."
The teller frowned, but took his money and then extra for one of the papers. Nix took it and saw the headline – AERIAL BATTLE OVER PACIFIC! - and paused for a moment to skim through the breathless paragraphs. The HMS Hateful and the HMS God's Wounds had clashed with the PLNS Wuhan 12 near Guam. The two smaller British ships had, according to the article, attempted to board and inspect Chinese trade heading for Sanfreska and the Chinese ship had refused to allow it – shots had been exchanged, but neither ship had been downed. The Lords and the House of Commons were both screaming bloody murder, but the Chinese government had refused to apologize. The Lady Colossus was said to be considering her options.
Nix shook his head. "They just can't stop poking them," he muttered. It felt like his entire life had had a low level running gambit of British and Chinese ships dancing around one another when it seemed to him that the Earth was large enough that two great Empires could simply refuse to pay one another much heed. He turned to the next page and saw that the Greater German Reich had had another race riot, and that the opening of Her Eternal Majesty's Clockwork Garden was on the way. He turned another page, while Enterprise glowered at the papers, then blinked.
"Those are blimps," she said.
"Huh?" Nix asked, distracted from spotting a rather lurid looking Cannibals in The Mojave! Sideline.
"Those are fuckin' blimps, do you all fly the goddamn Hindenburg around?" Enterprise asked, using her finger to poke at the grainy photograph of the HMS Hateful. Nix looked at the airship, then shook his head.
"They're zeppelins, actually," he said. "Ridged frame." He grinned. "But no, they're not like your primitive airships. The balloons are more for stability and assistance for the engines, see?" He pointed at the grainy image. "Those propellers keep it aloft almost as much, they run on atomic turbines. A small chunk of radioactive material, boiling water into steam, then then steams run pistons, levers…" He shrugged.
"How do they lug around that much metal?" Enterprise asked, frowning.
"Oh, they don't need that much metal – and you carry far less than if you would carry coal – a single chunk of, say, plutonium lasts for years and years," Nix said. "And the blessing of Trinity means that the radiation isn't much of a worry."
"Why would you worry about radiation?" Enterprise asked as the train came smoothly into the platform and the doors opened. The spirit of the train stepped from one of the doors, wearing a rather cute looking uniform with gold buttons and red braid.
"All aboard!" she called out.
Sister Zimmerman let out a barking laugh and then strode onto the train as Nix weighed whether it was worth trying to explain cancer to a ship with more planes and guns than a small modern fleet. Instead, they stepped onto the train. The short trip let him read up on the cannibals – a wasteland community had been found capturing and eating passers, which was quite horrid, but the free city of Vejas had reaffirmed its promise to bring peace to the lands with the help of Old Dam. The ancient spirit, which had sat in the wastelands for almost fifty years before anyone had come to check on her, always seemed to mean well, but Vejas remained a lawless place from everything Nix had read.
Finally, the train came to its stop and they emerged into the park that he had met Mr. Jeremiah at. And lo, there, standing at the statue of MacArthur, was none other than Mr. Jeremiah and four associates. Three of them were clearly toughs – big burly men who likely had concealed firearms on their persons – but the fourth of them was a woman, slight and slender, her eyes covered with bright, reflective goggles. She wore a rather mannish tophat and a very feminine evening dress, and had a cigarette holder that wafted a thin streamer of smoke into the air. Her hair was dark, and her expression unreadable as Nix, Sister Zimmerman, and Enterprise walked towards them.
Mr. Jeremiah started to clap slowly, his gloved hands slapping together. "Excellent, excellent work! Sister Zimmerman, as efficacious as ever."
Overhead, a shadow cast itself across the park. Looking up, Nix saw that the HMS Indomitable was floating by. His portable phone chirruped in his ear and the soft voice of Miss Rhina spoke in his ear. "I've seen some police wagons go by – but they don't appear to be heading to your park. They are on the search, though."
"Whose she?" Nix asked jerking his chin to the woman. She puffed on her cigarette.
"Why, this is Miss Young," Mr. Jeremiah said. "A fellow member of our organization."
"The Mechanical Turks," Nix said, firmly.
"Ah...you have done some reading. Excellent." Mr. Jeremiah's smile was whimsical. "I suppose you're wondering what it is we are about, hmm?"
"I kind of got the feeling from what I read that you hate spirits," Nix said, his arms crossing over his chest. "Which makes me curious why you want this particular spirit." He glanced at Enterprise, who frowned, her brow furrowing slightly.
Mr. Jeremiah chuckled. "Well, since you have done so well, and we are soon to end our partnership Mr. Nixon," he said, spreading his hands. "I may as well be frank. We do not like spirits very much. In fact, one might say that we're the first true Anti-theist organizations in the whole world. We wish to put mankind back in control of his machines – to make the tools given us by God and Creation to serve our interests. Not their own." His grin was cold. "I know that you might find that somewhat...unpalatable."
"It's impossible," Nix said, frowning.
"Since the Prophet saw in the mathematics of the great Einstein the potentiality of splitting the atom, it has been well known that nothing is truly impossible," Mr. Jeremiah said. "Though, some things remain quite improbable-"
Nix tensed. "This is where your toughs shoot me?" He asked.
"Shoot you? In the middle of New Trafalgar Garden?" Mr. Jeremiah said, sounding amused. "No. We're going to give you a considerable sum of money." He gestured and Miss Young reached into her dress. She pulled out a heavy sack that she tossed to Nix. Nix caught it and grunted – it was so full of coins he could feel them clink and clatter. "And then we shall leave you to spend it...while being aware that Sister Zimmerman here is our agent, and if you ever slip up, we know precisely where you and your extended family live." His smile was quite pleased, like a cat. "I think that's more than an effective stick and carrot, eh?"
Nix looked down at the sack of gold, his stomach doing a slow flip. He could just walk away. It wasn't as if you could do anything about spirits. They were a fact of the world as well established as gravity or the sun – you could kill a spirit, or destroy a machine, but...someone would just build a new ones. But the way that Mr. Jeremiah had said it, so blithely and so easily. He gulped, slowly, and then frowned.
"Walk away, Mr. Nixon," Mr. Jeremiah said, then gestured. "Come, Miss Spirit-"
The rattling thump of heavy, leaded clothing hitting the ground caused everyone to jerk their heads around.
"Our fathers scourged them with reeds, oh Lord," Sister Zimmerman said, her muscles bunching as she spread her arms and her metal implants whirred and clicked. One by one, they unfolded, revealing the grayish-blue rods inset into her skin, and the Latin phrases on them. "And we shall scourge them with scorpions. For the yoke of the false King lays heavy on the brow of you Chosen Land and people, my Lord!"
"Zimmerman, what are you doing?" Mr. Jeremiah snapped as she started to walk towards him and his three toughs.
Sister Zimmerman's head tilted down and her goggles flashed, catching the light.
Miss Young didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and drew a small, deadly looking semi-automatic pistol of German make. She leveled it at Zimmerman's chest while Mr. Jeremiah still looked like he didn't understand what was happening.
"As he died to make men holy...you will die to make us free," Zimmerman said, her voice sounding at peace.
Miss Young fired.
Zimmerman was already twisting to the side. Blood exploded from her shoulder, but the shot hadn't hit true muscle. She then got into Miss Young's grip, and caught the slender woman's arm, then brought her elbow smashing down into her forearm. Miss Young's arm snapped almost in half, bending entirely the wrong way, and the goggle wearing woman screamed – then went down as Zimmerman smashed her head into her face. Blood poured down her face as Mr. Zimmerman stumbled backwards, shrieking. "Shoot her! Shoot the American bitch!"
The three toughs hurriedly drew their weapons.
Zimmerman crashed her wrists together. Another criticality event flared, and the toughs cried out, blinded. That was time enough. She slammed one into the wall with her shoulder, smashing him into the statue of MacArthur. He collapsed and his friend stumbled as Zimmerman grabbed into the collar of his jacket, then brought him down with her arm as her knee drove up. Something crunched hideously and he dropped bonelessly, his face entirely caved in. Then the flat of her palm smashed into the throat of the third and he clutched at his neck, choking and gasping.
Mr. Jeremiah tripped over his own feet, stumbling away. "S-Stop! You're our servant! You-"
"I am of the Chosen People, Mr. Jeremiah," Zimmerman said, her voice full of righteous delight. "This land was given to us by God and purified by our Lady Trinity – and you have delivered unto me…" She grabbed onto his scrambling leg, then yanked him back with one brutal twist. "...a sword to strike dead the Empire I so loathe."
"Y-You-" Mr. Jeremiah stammered. "You said-"
Zimmerman's heel smashed down.
Nix turned his head aside, eyes screwed tight.
Choking, wheezing, and another snapping noise rang out. When he looked back, the third tough's head was twisted around and Zimmerman sighed, slowly. And Nix felt the realization of what had happened hit him all at once. "...you…" he whispered. "You...you want Enterprise for yourself."
"She is a good American ship, Mr. Nixon," Zimmerman exulted. "We have laid beneath the English heel for too long and she will-"
Enterprise looked from Zimmerman to Nix to Zimmerman – and Nix, unable to think of anything else, exploded. "What about my niece!?"
"A tragic sacrifice, but-"
"Sacrifice hell!" Nix snarled. He took hold of Enterprise's arm. "We have to get out of here, she's not an American, not like you remember them, she's a maniac, a lunatic, she-"
"With your might, we shall bring ruin to the benighted isle of Albion, oh Enterprise," Zimmerman said, reaching out towards the ship. "Come with me!"
"I-I...I-" Enterprise looked from Zimmerman to Nix to Zimmerman to Nix to Zimmerman. "I...back off!" She shouted, then shoved Zimmerman on the chest. The impact sent Zimmerman shooting backwards, narrowly missing a quite sudden death at the hands of MacArthur – instead, she arced and landed in brush and grass, tumbling over and over and over as she rolled away. Enterprise lowered her hand, then blushed and looked at Nix, her eyes desperate. Nix's brain whirled...and he knew what he had to do.
"Come on! We have to get to the train station," Nix said. "And get out of here before-"
Bang.
Nix felt as if someone had punched him in the back. He blinked, then stumbled a bit – then looked down at his chest. Blood was beginning to seep into his shirt. Enterprise cried out, grabbing onto his arms as he wobbled and half fell.
Propped up, her ruined arm clutched to her chest, Miss Young lowered her pistol, then raised it again – this time, she fired half a dozen times into the sky, the shots ringing out as loudly as alarm bells, calling every police officer in the city.
On one hand I just love how Sister Zimmerman is just so completely insane she manages to get the jump on a mastermind via complete disregard for convention or sensibility or logic, truly a modern hero hearing the call of saintly John Brown to continue his great work.
On the other hand, there miiiight be a bit of a red flag in how holy vengeance is absolutely 1000% going to involve razing London with super Doolittle raids and Tokyo firebombing, and possibly nuking like Liverpool and Glasgow as a second Hiroshima and Nagasaki, physically annihilating the infrastructure of empire and all the copper wires and power grids of Lady Colossus with a similar complete and utter disregard for how many civilians she'll kill directly or have starve to death in the blockade and break-down of supply and etc...
And yet, would forfending from doing so, in the grand titanic clash of American rebellion and wars between the Germans and clashes over the seven seas between the British Navy and the PLAN in a giant redub of the war of independence and the Napoleonic wars and etc... all that would be necessary to break the British power- what if instead taking that principled stand lets the Eternal Empire win? Who can justify allowing more revolutionaries and ordinary Burned Yorkers to die just to spare the society marms whose homefront support undergirds the historical and current British bombings and expropriations of fleets and industry and so on that crush rebellions in India and in America? Yet still, even apart from the morality of it all, how does killing a bunch of Liverpudlian and Glaswegian dockworkers and destroying their organized social and political life do much of anything to harm the imperial interests of the genteel officer corps and civil service and the great aristocrats and financiers, beyond removing a domestic thorn in their side?
"They're zeppelins, actually," he said. "Ridged frame." He grinned. "But no, they're not like your primitive airships. The balloons are more for stability and assistance for the engines, see?" He pointed at the grainy image. "Those propellers keep it aloft almost as much, they run on atomic turbines. A small chunk of radioactive material, boiling water into steam, then then steams run pistons, levers…" He shrugged.
Interesting. There's clear evidence of a technological retrograde, seemingly intentional to keep the spirits under at least some measure of control. But why then the atomic airships rather than aeroplanes, (yes, I know, genre conventions), surely those'd be more advanced, more complex than a military plane of equivalent complexity? Especially if the airships aren't actually airships, but rather some hellish kind of helicopter.
Also, that should probably read rigid frame, unless we're going for certain implications.
They're probably forgotten a bit of the reason why by now, as they've iterated on the airship as a combat platform, but I imagine it's because if Lady Fortress didn't have all the PTSD she could legitimately challenge Lady Colossus, and who knows what monstrously powerful wildcards would be unleashed by poking the spirits of iconic WW2 planes or even accidentally awakening *jets*.
They're probably forgotten a bit of the reason why by now, as they've iterated on the airship as a combat platform, but I imagine it's because if Lady Fortress didn't have all the PTSD she could legitimately challenge Lady Colossus, and who knows what monstrously powerful wildcards would be unleashed by poking the spirits of iconic WW2 planes or even accidentally awakening *jets*.
Also explains why they might be atomic, if you want to keep a division of power enforced. Without Trinities protection, those airships can not fly.
Not without burning their crew to a crisp, anyway.
Enterprise grinned, then reached up, cupping Nix's cheek. "You wanna save your fuckin' kid niece?" She leaned in. "Then I want you to do something for me after. I want you to take me to my body, and I want you to help me raise her. No questions asked. Otherwise-"
I wonder if Enterprise remembers the events that sunk her (or if she's even stuck, instead of just being locked up in some kind of british scrapyard). They were clearly keeping her around for something.
"No," Nix said. "The Lady Trinity was a spirit built by the Thirteen Apostles and the Prophet Oppenheimer. She...she was a spirit more powerful than anything ever built before, powerful enough to scorch the world. She brought fire to the Japanese, then as the War continued on into Korea, she was almost bridled by...President Truman. He sought, in his jealousy, to keep her wrath from Korea and China, and so she turned her fury upon America. In the aftermath, the Empire returned to her colonies to restore order and, for the past two hundred years, have ruled here and abroad under the Lady Colossus."
Interesting. There's clear evidence of a technological retrograde, seemingly intentional to keep the spirits under at least some measure of control. But why then the atomic airships rather than aeroplanes, (yes, I know, genre conventions), surely those'd be more advanced, more complex than a military plane of equivalent complexity? Especially if the airships aren't actually airships, but rather some hellish kind of helicopter.
Also, that should probably read rigid frame, unless we're going for certain implications.
I think each atomic turbine is its own independent microreactor, so to control a turbine airship you only need to regulate those reactors and let thrust differences do the work. Airplanes, meanwhile, are fiendishly complex for machine their size, with everything tightly optimized for performance, resilience and (particularily) weight, the control surfaces and their systems also add on to it, all the engineering that goes into making the engine work in under high g-forces...
I think each atomic turbine is its own independent microreactor, so to control a turbine airship you only need to regulate those reactors and let thrust differences do the work. Airplanes, meanwhile, are fiendishly complex for machine their size, with everything tightly optimized for performance, resilience and (particularily) weight, the control surfaces and their systems also add on to it, all the engineering that goes into making the engine work in under high g-forces...
You have the regular aerodynamic control systems as you find on an aeroplane, but then you also have the ballasting system, (both dumping and moving ballast). You have gas bags with need to be pressurized and depressurized to keep the ship in trim.
On top of that, these airships are not neutrally buoyant, so you need an advanced system to keep the entire thing balanced on it's own turbines, and to keep it from vibrating itself apart.
Being an airship, weight is massively important for it's performance, and it's much larger structure means that it's going to get a whole host of interesting aerodynamic and dynamics stresses.
The closest thing, IRL, to what dragon is describing is this hellspawn
Multiple independent engine units, all of which need to be kept synchronized (and in vastly greater complexity than just "push forward"), complex interaction, and everything running on nuclear power to boot.
"No," Nix said. "The Lady Trinity was a spirit built by the Thirteen Apostles and the Prophet Oppenheimer. She...she was a spirit more powerful than anything ever built before, powerful enough to scorch the world. She brought fire to the Japanese, then as the War continued on into Korea, she was almost bridled by...President Truman. He sought, in his jealousy, to keep her wrath from Korea and China, and so she turned her fury upon America. In the aftermath, the Empire returned to her colonies to restore order and, for the past two hundred years, have ruled here and abroad under the Lady Colossus."
