HEART OF THE DAEDALUS
Moonlight carved an eerie path through the
low-lying landscape of the Romney Marshes, solidifying the patches
of mist that gathered over the sodden ground. The area was riddled
with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for
anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead
and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path.
It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby
village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the
cold night air, picking its way carefully.
The clear sky was in her favor, which was
some mercy, but her attire was not. She'd come straight from a
formal supper and hadn't had time to change out of her best evening
gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and
she'd grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her
cloak, she'd paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and
her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the
marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved
elsewhere. The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the
machine had enormous wealth at his disposal. He could easily toy
with it then cast it aside. The knot in her chest tightened as she
thought on it, but it only served to strengthen her resolve. She
had to see her beloved creation, now. Pursing her lips, she pressed
on determinedly.
Up ahead she spied her quarry, a smuggler's
den—a long and low shelter in a dug out pit, built from old planks
covered over with slabs of peat and tuft of grass to conceal the
moorings and storage space within. It was here that she'd been told
the prototype had been hidden. The machine had been engineered and
built elsewhere, so why was it here? The question went unanswered
as the lure of the Daedalus drew her on. A steady plume of smoke
rose from the rear of the shelter, making her wary. Her informant,
an old friend, had told her no guards had been employed. Apparently
it had been deemed unnecessary in this lonely, barren place.
However, Nina approached with caution. Dismounting, she secured her
horse beneath a cluster of trees and edged closer to the ramshackle
building by foot.
At the entrance she peered
inside the gloomy interior. Somewhere a light shone. As she became
accustomed to the limited light she realized it was coming from
inside the huge metal construction. Her breath caught as her chin
lifted to take in the outline of the immense machine. Mine. Her sense of pride
swelled. How she had pored over drawings of this creation, this
beautiful machine. Inspired by her research on insects, she had
imagined a machine that would emulate their ability to react, to
leap, to track, and to hunt. And here it was—part spider, part
praying mantis, engineered in metal and powered by combustion
engine.
The pod-like body was designed to rise from
the ground on eight legs, strong but spindly, each leg made
invincible by internal springs that provided enormous flexibility.
She wrapped her hand around one of the legs, her emotions running
high. It had been a fanciful artistic creation, but seeing it
constructed in solid metal took her breath away. Awestruck, she
made her way around the machine. At the side she heard the low
throb of the combustion engine. She ran her hand along the
underbelly and felt its heat. Smiling fondly, she felt as if she
had been reunited with long-lost kin. She'd come there angry,
possessive and thwarted, and yet seeing her design realized as a
complete construction made her hands tremble with excitement.
At the rear of the machine she found a metal
ladder that dropped from the vessel to the ground. It wouldn't hurt
to have a quick look, she decided, then hitched her skirts and
clambered up. Cautiously, she opened the hatch. Inside it was
gloomy, but toward the front of the pod an oil lamp stood on a
brass surface, giving out a warm, inviting light. She paused, still
wary, but heard no sound other than
Moonlight carved an eerie path through the
low-lying landscape of the Romney Marshes, solidifying the patches
of mist that gathered over the sodden ground. The area was riddled
with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for
anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead
and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path.
It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby
village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the
cold night air, picking its way carefully.
The clear sky was in her favor, which was
some mercy, but her attire was not. She'd come straight from a
formal supper and hadn't had time to change out of her best evening
gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and
she'd grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her
cloak, she'd paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and
her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the
marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved
elsewhere. The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the
machine had enormous wealth at his disposal. He could easily toy
with it then cast it aside. The knot in her chest tightened as she
thought on it, but it only served to strengthen her resolve. She
had to see her beloved creation, now. Pursing her lips, she pressed
on determinedly.
Up ahead she spied her quarry, a smuggler's
den—a long and low shelter in a dug out pit, built from old planks
covered over with slabs of peat and tuft of grass to conceal the
moorings and storage space within. It was here that she'd been told
the prototype had been hidden. The machine had been engineered and
built elsewhere, so why was it here? The question went unanswered
as the lure of the Daedalus drew her on. A steady plume of smoke
rose from the rear of the shelter, making her wary. Her informant,
an old friend, had told her no guards had been employed. Apparently
it had been deemed unnecessary in this lonely, barren place.
However, Nina approached with caution. Dismounting, she secured her
horse beneath a cluster of trees and edged closer to the ramshackle
building by foot.
At the entrance she peered
inside the gloomy interior. Somewhere a light shone. As she became
accustomed to the limited light she realized it was coming from
inside the huge metal construction. Her breath caught as her chin
lifted to take in the outline of the immense machine. Mine. Her sense of pride
swelled. How she had pored over drawings of this creation, this
beautiful machine. Inspired by her research on insects, she had
imagined a machine that would emulate their ability to react, to
leap, to track, and to hunt. And here it was—part spider, part
praying mantis, engineered in metal and powered by combustion
engine.
The pod-like body was designed to rise from
the ground on eight legs, strong but spindly, each leg made
invincible by internal springs that provided enormous flexibility.
She wrapped her hand around one of the legs, her emotions running
high. It had been a fanciful artistic creation, but seeing it
constructed in solid metal took her breath away. Awestruck, she
made her way around the machine. At the side she heard the low
throb of the combustion engine. She ran her hand along the
underbelly and felt its heat. Smiling fondly, she felt as if she
had been reunited with long-lost kin. She'd come there angry,
possessive and thwarted, and yet seeing her design realized as a
complete construction made her hands tremble with excitement.
At the rear of the machine she found a metal
ladder that dropped from the vessel to the ground. It wouldn't hurt
to have a quick look, she decided, then hitched her skirts and
clambered up. Cautiously, she opened the hatch. Inside it was
gloomy, but toward the front of the pod an oil lamp stood on a
brass surface, giving out a warm, inviting light. She paused, still
wary, but heard no sound other than
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