Monday, October 13, 2014

The Adventure of the Homicidal Automatons, Part the Seventh


This is a Sherlock Holmes story I wrote a few years ago, set in an alternate London where the British Empire expanded into the reaches of outer space. Will be posted in chapters on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Scroll to the end for chapter list.
              
             I reentered the shop, paper bag in hand, to hear Miss Morstan’s voice. She sounded exasperated and frazzled. “All right, let’s start again. I think we must have missed something.”
            She and Holmes were seated near the table, which was completely strewn with the various shiny pieces that made up the MAID and my poor arm. I joined them, setting the sandwiches down.
            “We know that we’re looking for something capable of receiving transmissions,” continued Miss Morstan. “We know that, whatever it is, it has something in common not only to these devices but to the majority of all mechanical objects.”
            “We do not know why our foe wants to build such an odious transmitter in the first place,” I contributed.
            Holmes shrugged. “With such a machine the man could bring London—indeed, all of Britain, and Mars and Venus besides—to their knees. But yes, Watson, you do have a point—there is most likely a specific purpose to this fiendishness.”
            Miss Morstan ran her hand over her hair. “Could the man have been exaggerating the reach of his device to you?”
            “Watson and I witnessed the effects first-hand. I suspect our man may be working on a device larger than the one he carries with him, meant to control robots at a greater range.”
            Miss Morstan frowned. “That would be very difficult, but if we know how he does it we may be able to stop it. What exactly was he stealing?”
            “I believe he took the late Professor Spence’s research on the transmission of signals through etheric sound and frequency. I cannot say what he took from Professor Sadd, although the fellow was an expert in both physics and Martian biology.”
            “Yes, there were quite a few Martian artifacts in that house, weren’t there? He even had a few Aphros Trees,” I commented.
            Miss Morstan smiled. “That must have been handy for him, to keep his robots running.”
            Such a thought would, of course, occur first and foremost to a mechanic. I was about to respond when Holmes suddenly interjected, “Wait. What did you say?”
            “It must have been handy for him to have the trees and the lubricant for his robots,” repeated Miss Morstan.
            “Physics,” murmured Holmes. “Mechanics. He had the trees—” My friend leapt to his feet. “Morstan! Do you have VL here?”
            “There’s a tub of it over there,” said Miss Morstan, frowning.
            Holmes dashed to the tub and scooped out a cup of VL. Setting it on the workbench, he snatched up something that looked rather like a miniature tesla coil, snapped on his goggles, aimed it at the VL, and, looking rather like the mad scientists one frequently finds inhabiting sanitariums, started the device in his hands so that it crackled with electricity. The VL suddenly flashed and sparks danced over it, sending electrical currents into its center.
            “That’s it!” Miss Morstan cried. “The receiver and conductor of the signals is the Venusian Lubricant itself!”
            Having finally grasped Holmes’s discovery, I was aghast. “But every machine in London uses VL!”
            “Exactly,” said Holmes grimly. He turned the electrical device off and raised his goggles. “All of England is prey to that mad, inspired fiend’s foul device!”

            Holmes paced nervously about the room while Miss Morstan repaired my arm and I sat and watched him. I was gratified to see Holmes open the bag I had brought back from the Cat and Fiddle. My efforts had not gone entirely to waste.
            Miss Morstan was reconstructing the inner workings of my arm. “If I had a machine like that and no moral standards, the first thing I would…” She stopped, her eyes wide. “He can commit any crime and no one will realize it is him.”
            “We have already established that,” snapped Holmes. “Our foe can do anything in any house where robots…” He looked at Miss Morstan. “Yesterday, you said something about the MAID we brought in. What was it?”
            Miss Morstan frowned in concentration. “I believe I merely stated that I had heard it was a good model. New, but the Queen herself has—”
            “Buckingham Palace!” Holmes cried out. “If I had that sort of machine and no ethical standards to stop me, the first thing I would accomplish would be the robbery of Buckingham Palace! Oh, imagine the fame! The notoriety it would bring!” He spun to face us. “And our villain is certainly the type who wishes for acclaim.”
            Miss Morstan fastened the outside structure and returned my arm to me. Anger, nervous tension and a prior knowledge of what to expect seemed to have sped her work. “Well, Mr. Holmes, surely all that is now required is to warn Buckingham Palace and keep a close watch on the crown jewels.”
            “If only it were that simple,” murmured Holmes. “Our foe has the perfect way of infiltration. He shall not be caught unless—” He straightened, a new light coming to his eyes, and turned to us. Miss Morstan and I looked at him expectantly.
            Sherlock Holmes smiled. “I have a plan.”

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