Crawl, godsdamn you.
Light on his skin. Engines increasing in volume. He opened his eyes, saw a ventilation grille to his right, staring down through the slats to the engine room floor. The growling pistons, the transmission churning like an open mouth full of clockwork teeth. Artificers standing in one corner, heads bowed. Uncertain voices barely audible above the engine’s din.
Kin rolled away from the vent, let Shinji get to work, unbolting the grille from the inside. A crackling announcement spilled over the intercom.
“Brothers.” Kensai’s voice—sorrow underscored with something else. Energy? Elation? “Grievous news has reached us that Tojo, resplendent First Bloom of the Lotus Guild, is dead at the hands of Kagé assassins. Though it wounds the very soul, do not lose yourselves in sorrow. Turn your pain to rage, and light a fire in your hearts. A fire to guide us through this darkness, and incinerate any who defy our will.”
Shinji pulled the grille aside with a faint metallic squeal.
“There can be no Lotus Guild without a leader.” Kin could hear the thrill in Kensai’s voice plainly now—words the old man had waited a lifetime to utter. “And thus, I claim the title of First Bloom until Tojo’s successor can be named.”
Shinji stowed the grille to one side, nodded to Kin.
“All right. I’ll crawl down, plant the charges in the transmission. Hopefully, the explosion will pop a bearing housing. Maybe even a drive rod.”
“And what do I do?” Kin whispered.
With a grin, Shinji reached into his belt and pulled out an iron-thrower. “You cover me.”
“Where the hells did you get that?”
“Munitions locker. Broke it open after I cut drive control. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Fine thinking.” Kin held up his blistered hands. “But I can’t shoot it, Shinji.”
“You have a good vantage point from up here. It’ll be like shooting koi in a cup.”
Kin grit his teeth and grasped the weapon as best he could, wincing as the grip scraped his blistered palms. Shinji produced a flat block of burnished iron, studded with a tiny aerial, a switch of gleaming chrome. The boy pressed a flat button, a red diode lighting up on the explosives, another atop the block in his hand.
Detonator.
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Shinji-san.”
“What, is that it?” Shinji blinked. “No kiss?”
With a grin, the boy slipped out of the ventilation shaft, explosives clutched tight. He dropped down to the floor with his armful, stealing through the steam and shadows toward the transmission. Kin set sights on four Shatei gathered around the PA speaker, took trembling aim.
“I will rule this Guild as Tojo has done.” Kensai was building to his finale. “To see his death avenged, and all who incite insurrection purified with flame. The lotus must bloom!”
Shinji was at the transmission, climbing the outer housing with his arms full of explosives. He slipped, seized the rungs, almost dropping the bundle.
“The lotus must bloom!” The cry echoed in the Earthcrusher’s innards.
Gods, they’re all so used to following.
Kin shook his head.
None of them stop to think where following might lead …
“Battle stations!” Kensai cried.
The vent seethed under Kin’s belly, and the engines roared as the Earthcrusher began marching again, the thunderous cadence of its tread bouncing around the inside of his skull, vibrations threatening to dislodge Shinji from his perch.
DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM.
DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM.
The Shatei hurried back to their posts, mechabacii chattering, blood-red eyes gleaming in the gloom. The stink of burning chi was almost overpowering—that chemical, grease-fire stench of oil and burning flowers. Kin squinted through the haze, saw Shinji crest the transmission housing, staring down into the exposed, churning mess of cogs and iron teeth.
The boy couldn’t simply drop the bomb into the transmission—the gears would crush it to powder without setting off the charge. Shinji leaned into the gap, legs hooked in the ladder’s rungs as he searched for the place it could do the most damage.
Kin cursed beneath his breath as he saw an Artificer clomping around the transmission housing. If the Artificer glanced up, he’d see Shinji’s legs hooked in the ladder rungs, pale as some Kitsune maiden’s nethers.
Hurry up, godsdammit …
Sweat in Kin’s eyes, the reverberation of the Earthcrusher’s steps bringing new pain. He aimed at the back of the Artificer’s head, the iron-thrower trembling in wounded hands.
No way to signal Shinji without drawing attention to himself.
No way to warn the boy about the Guildsman drawing closer every step.
Shinji propped the explosives between the spacer plate and gasket of the lowest gear setting and pulled himself back up. Wiping sweat from his brow, he saw the Artificer passing below, freezing as still as a statue in the Shōgun’s gardens. If he made no sound, if he didn’t move, perhaps the Artificer wouldn’t notice …