The Affinity Bridge by George Mann

stations in an emergency. They’re simply not capable of it.”
    Newbury looked incredulous. “An automaton piloting an airship! Why didn’t you think to disclose this information before now? There’s the probable cause for your disaster, Mr. Stokes! The unit clearly malfunctioned.”
    Stokes shook his head defensively. “Oh no, Sir Maurice. That’s simply not possible. The automatons have been piloting airships for nearly six months now, and safety records have improved dramatically during that period. Up to eighty percent! The programme is fully approved. We have all the necessary paperwork back at the office. I assure you, sir, that it’s a simple impossibility that the unit malfunctioned. It’s physically not possible.”
    “So where is the unit now, Mr. Stokes?” Veronica smiled in a placatory fashion.
    Stokes cleared his throat. He was clearly uncomfortable with the course of the entire conversation. “I’m afraid I have no idea. My report will state that the device was destroyed in the explosion. Now look,” He waved a manifest in front of them. “I really have to be getting on. I’m expected to provide a full passenger register for the police before the day is out.”
    “Of course. We’re sorry to have kept you.” Veronica took Newbury’s proffered arm and began to edge away. Then, as if just remembering something, she stopped and looked back. “Oh, and Mr. Stokes? Just one more thing before you go?”
“Yes?”
    “Could you tell me why all of the passengers were confined to their seats, with loops of rope around their ankles?”
    Stokes looked as if he were about to choke. “A simple safety precaution, Miss Hobbes. In case of emergency all passengers are required to insert their left foot into the safety brace underneath the seat in front. It stops people tumbling all over the craft if the pilot encounters dangerous turbulence whilst airborne.”
    Veronica nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Stokes, you’ve been most helpful.”
    She watched with Newbury as the little man scuttled away, keen to put distance between him and the ire of the moonlighting academics. The light was fading now, the sun low in the sky over the city. The crowds of people around the edges of the park had begun to thin and disperse.
    “You understand, of course, that there’s no feasible way in which the skeleton of a brass automaton could have been incinerated in that blaze? Especially when one considers that the majority of the human cadavers are still relatively intact.” Newbury sounded contemplative now, rather than angry.
Veronica nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
    “I’m beginning to think that Her Majesty’s suspicions were correct. Something is definitely wrong here, and I’ll wager it has its roots in the offices of Chapman and Villiers Air Transportation Services.” He sighed, blinking to keep himself alert. “For now, though, I think it’s time I retired to my lodgings. Can I drop you at home on my way, Miss Hobbes?”
She nodded, clearly exhausted. “Please do, Sir Maurice.”
    He held the cordon for her as they took their leave of the crash site and made their way to the nearest carriage.
     
     
    The evening was still and cold as Newbury, attired only in a simple dressing gown, settled in his study before a roaring open fire. A book was open on his lap— Trelawny’s History of Esoteric Societies of the Seventeenth Century —one of the many aged, leather-bound volumes that lined the walls around the room. Other shelves held more bizarre specimens; vials of chemical compounds; jars filled with preserved biological samples; a pentagram cast out of twenty-four carat gold; the bleached skull of a chimpanzee and much more besides. Paper files were stacked neatly in rows along one wall, containing reams of case notes, old academic papers, clippings and other assorted reference materials, collected during many long hours of research. The study was his private haven, the room he filled with all of the ephemera