Metal and Magic: The Steampunk Adventures of Hanover and Singh

by Chris Paton

  “She was moving quietly, Vlad,” Stepan smirked.

  “She is doing her part, Kapitan,” Vladimir flinched as the Drakon belched fire from its position at the wall behind them. “Now we must do ours.”

  Stepan lurched forward. No longer wary of being spotted, he ran along the wall, sliding to a stop at the gates. Vladimir scuffed to a stop beside him, looking over Stepan’s head at the second emissary as it hesitated under its controller’s hand while Lena led its partner away from the station.

  “We can’t go, Kapitan.” Vladimir pointed at the emissary. “It might not be looking this way, but neither is it leaving its post.”

  “Not yet, no,” Stepan pushed Vladimir back behind the cover of the brick gate post. “Perhaps the...”

  The thud of musket balls impacting the dirt and the occasional pling of metal turned their heads. The emissary took a massive step forward, its controller turning it toward the incoming fire, using its brass bulk as a shield.

  “It is working, Kapitan.” Vladimir slapped Stepan on the shoulder.

  “Wait,” Stepan gripped Vladimir’s arm as the lieutenant took a step forward. “The controllers are rarely alone. There will be some men with Polyphase rifles, or worse.”

  “There can be nothing worse than a Puckle Gun,” Vladimir grinned. “I think that will keep them busy.”

  “Yes,” Stepan pushed past Vladimir. “There,” he pointed at three men with rifles exiting a carriage behind the emissary. Stepan held up his hand. “Wait.” Vladimir hovered at Stepan’s side. Crouching, his head was nearly on a level with Stepan’s. “Okay, go.” Stepan leaped forward, running toward the nearest carriage, the sound of Vladimir’s flat footfalls urging him on.

  Vladimir paused at a cry of pain piercing a beat in the Drakon’s breath. He slowed to a stop in the open between the carriage and the gate.

  “Vlad,” Stepan hissed. “Move.”

  “That was Lena, Kapitan,” Vladimir took a single step forward.

  “Damn it,” Stepan thumped the side of the carriage. “Come on, Vlad.” Fists clenched, Stepan took a step out of the shadow of the carriage.

  “I am going to save the Cossack, Kapitan. You must get to the engineers.”

  “Don’t make me order you, Poruchik Pavlutskiy,” Stepan raised his finger.

  “It would be the first time,” Vladimir flinched at the frazzled report of a Polyphase rifle, twisting to the ground under a bolt of energy as it zapped into his shoulder.

  “Vlad,” Stepan ducked low as a second and a third blister of charged particles bracketed his position. Retreating into cover, Stepan looked for signs of life from the Poruchik, but Vladimir did not move, the dust around his body puffing into his uniform as the riflemen jogged to his position.

  ҉

  Bulbous cauldrons of sodium crystals illuminated Murrayfield Hydrogen Park’s tallest wooden tether derrick, casting timbered shadows across the road leading to the passenger embarkation port. Sitting in the shotgun seat by the side of the driver, Egmont slapped the side panel of the steamcarriage with his palm. The Admiral turned in his seat as Noonan rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “We’ve arrived,” Egmont pointed at the ground crew waiting for them at the base of the derrick. “Wake up Smith.”

  Noonan pulled his head back inside the carriage, causing it to rock as the driver slowed to a stop. Egmont clambered down from the seat and waited for Noonan and Smith to join him.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Smith wiped his glasses.

  “Inside, maybe,” Egmont prodded his cheeks with a gloved hand. “Up top it was a little chilly.”

  “I thought you were used to the weather, Reginald?”

  “Don’t get smart, Smith. It is everyman’s right to grow old.” Egmont coaxed movement into his brass leg by bending his knee back and forth while Noonan collected their luggage. He stopped the Major as he passed. “Expecting trouble, Major?”

  “You said we should be prepared,” Noonan jerked the long canvas rifle case in his right hand. “I took the liberty of procuring a Lightning Jezail from the captured weapons armoury.”

  “A Lightning Jezail,” Smith reached out to touch the canvas case. “I haven’t seen one of those since I stopped campaigning in India.”

  “This one is likely from one of your campaigns.” Noonan nodded toward the waiting crew. “I had best get all this loaded into the elevator.” He strode past the two men.

  “Don’t get too friendly with the Major, Smith,” Egmont kicked at a stone with the steam-powered suspension tip of his brass leg. “He is an instrument to be used. That is all.”

  “And yet,” Smith looked up at the Admiral, “I have found such instruments to be far more easily wielded if one shows an interest.”

  “Is that how you recruited Singh?”

  “Hari?” Smith’s cheeks creased with a broad smile. “Hari recruited himself. He was perfectly suited as a pundit in every way. He once told me of the time he stared down a steam-powered warphant, just to impress a girl.”

  “In India?”

  “Yes, on the banks of the river in the Indus Valley, near Leh. A beautiful area. Such a rich palette of brown and green and blue. A watercolour artist’s dream. You would love it, Reginald.”

  “I am hardly an art connoisseur, Smith. Although that Turner fellow has a good eye for a seascape.” Egmont gestured toward the elevator as Noonan finished loading the last piece of luggage. “Are they smoking?”

  “What?” Smith stared at the ground crew as they lounged on the luggage and assorted crates inside the elevator, filling long-stemmed pipes with plugs of tobacco they pinched from leather pouches on their belts.

  “They are a belligerent lot,” Noonan scowled as he approached. “Wouldn’t lift a finger to help with the luggage. Carping on about extraordinary hours, and going home to their wives and sweethearts.” He fixed Egmont with a stare. “I don’t trust them, Admiral.”

  “We don’t have to trust them, Noonan,” Egmont brushed past the Major. “We just have to order them about.” Stumping up to the wooden elevator, Egmont waited for the steam to finish piffing out of the valve in his brass leg. He stared at each of the ground crew, lingering over the older men, pointing at the most surly of them. “You,” Egmont thrust out his hand, two fingers pointing at the man’s chest. “Are these miserable swabs yours?”

  “Beg your pardon, sir?” the man stood.

  “Admiral,” Egmont took a step forward. “That’s my rank.”

  “Admiral, sir...”

  “Just the rank, you pathetic cur. If this was my ship I would have you keel-hauled all the way from Scotland to Denmark.”

  “Beg your pardon, Admiral,” the youngest member of the crew slid to his feet. “You can’t keel haul on an airship,” he sniggered.

  “No?” Egmont grabbed a length of hawser line coiled on a crate at the entrance to the elevator. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  “Now, wait a minute, Admiral,” the senior crewman raised his hands.

  “We don’t have a minute,” Egmont threw down the rope and jerked his thumb at Smith and Noonan as they joined him. “We didn’t have a minute before, and we sure as a mermaid’s frozen nipple don’t have one now. You might not recognise the rank of a Major in the Queen’s Own 5th Hussars, nor his companions, but,” Egmont pointed up at the airship tethered from the thick mast at the top of the derrick, “I think we can agree that when the Queen orders her private, and experimental, airship to be fuelled and stocked in short order, there is a damn good reason for doing so. I’ll have each of your names by the time this elevator reaches the airship, and if any one of you as much as thinks a belligerent, treasonous thought,” Egmont picked up the end of the rope. “Well, there won’t be much left for his favourite squeeze to take hold of after I have had him keel-hauled by the...”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Smith patted Egmont’s arm as the crew scurried to organise the crates of supplies and luggage to make space for passengers in the elevator. “They s
eem to have gotten the message.”

  “About time,” Egmont cast the rope to one side. “Now then,” he turned to Noonan. “What is the plan?”

  “I have received word from the Welshman, Blaidd, that he is onboard the steamjammer and has made contact with the Germans.”

  “Contact? Are we suddenly in league with the German Confederation?”

  “It’s all right, Reginald,” Smith took a step toward the elevator. “Noonan has given his agent a task to occupy him, giving us a chance to catch up with Luise and Hari.”

  “And you know where they are?”

  “Onboard The Flying Scotsman. The result of a little seed-sowing back in your office. You do remember, Reginald?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Egmont followed Smith and Noonan into the elevator, pushing two of the four crewmen out to make room. The elevator creaked as the winch took in the slack and they started to move.

  “They will be halfway across the North Sea by now,” Noonan repositioned the rifle case as it slipped toward the lip of the elevator floor. “Perhaps further.”

  “Perhaps, Major,” Smith nodded. He turned to the young crewman standing by the side of the elevator’s emergency brake handle. “Could you tell Major Noonan a little about this airship, crewman?”

  The crewman straightened. “This is The Amphitrite, sir. Named after a sea-goddess.”

  “And has the Queen ever flown aboard The Amphitrite?” Smith continued.

  “Not that I know of, sir. She’s right lively she is,” the crewman blushed. “I mean the airship, sir.”

  “Of course you do,” Smith smiled. Would you go as far to say that she is a bit too lively, perhaps?”

  “That’s right, sir,” the crewman grinned. “It would make her dogs right sick it would.”

  Egmont chuckled. “I am beginning to like this ship.”

  “Airship, Admiral,” Smith pulled the collars of his jacket up as the elevator neared the top of the derrick. “The Amphitrite has a reputation, not unlike her captain, for flying fast and furious with little regard for dignitaries or decorum. It might explain why these men were a little pompous on our arrival, gentlemen.”

  Noonan slung the rifle case over his shoulder as the elevator grumbled to a stop. “What’s your name, crewman?” He pointed at the young man standing by the brake.

  “Perkins, sir.”

  “Well, Perkins. You can call me Major Noonan. You’ve met the Admiral, and this gentleman you have been chatting with is Mr. Smith. These are our bags, and you will see that all of them are delivered to our quarters.”

  “Yes, Major Noonan,” Perkins let go of the brake and took a step toward the luggage. He reached for the rifle case on Noonan’s shoulder.

  “Just the bags, Perkins.” Noonan stepped out onto the platform and peered over the edge at the tiny steamcarriage below. “I’m not great with heights,” he took a step back.

  “Best keep your eyes closed when crossing the rope bridge then, Major.” Egmont grinned as he stumped past Noonan. Gripping the rope lines either side of the narrow wooden-slatted bridge, Egmont aimed the tip of his brass leg at the centre of the first slat.

  “Everything all right, Reginald?” Smith placed his hand on Egmont’s shoulder.

  “Perfectly all right, thank you, Smith.” He took a step forward. “Just enjoying the moment,” Holding his breath, Egmont took another step.

  Tugging at the lines securing her to the mast, The Amphitrite quivered, its hull rippling with the last infusion of hydrogen as the crew topped off the reserves with a final blast of gas. Smith searched the sleek, black ribbed hull for the bridge, fixing his gaze on a small bubble of glass, brass and wood below the nose of the airship. The single, narrow deck for the crew, and what little cargo The Amphitrite could carry, stretched beneath the airship’s skin, ending in a tiny hatch to which the rope bridge was attached. Smith took a deep breath and followed the Admiral.

  ҉

  Above the North Sea, nearing the coast of Denmark, The Flying Scotsman caught the dying rays of the sun on her stern as she wallowed in the softening winds creasing her skin with a gentle push from the west. Hari and Luise waited for Jacques to open the door to the bridge.

  “Remember, the family will see you first, you can talk to the Captain after that.”

  “And the Germans?” Hari gripped Luise’s hand.

  “As agreed, they will wait for the Captain to release you,” Jacques smiled. “I told you they were impressed.”

  “Truly,” Hari gestured at the door. “Shall we go in?”

  Hari let go of Luise’s hand as the father of the girl extended his.

  “Can’t thank you enough,” he pumped Hari’s hand. “My little girl...”

  “Yes,” Hari smiled at the girl as she hid behind her father’s legs. Flicking his eyes to the man standing at the wheel of the airship, Hari caught his first glance of Cairn.

  “We don’t know how to repay you,” the mother stepped forward and hugged Luise.

  “No payment necessary,” Luise gasped for breath. Catching Hari’s eye, Luise’s brow wrinkled as she raised her eyebrows.

  “Our little girl...” the father moved to hug Hari.

  “Yes,” Cairn coughed from behind the oak wheel. “Yes, quite courageous.” Stepping around the helm, Cairn limped the short distance to the father. Placing his left hand on the man’s shoulder, he gently prised him away from Hari. “I am sure you will have opportunity to talk with Hari and his exquisite lady friend later in the voyage.” Cairn made a short bow to Luise. “Jacques, please escort our guests back to their cabin.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Jacques led the family to the door, closing it gently as they exited the bridge.

  “Now then,” Cairn gestured to the large oak table at the rear of the bridge. “Let us sit and get acquainted. Jacques seems rather impressed with you both,” Cairn limped behind Hari and Luise as they made their way to the table. “And I admit to being a little in awe myself.” He waited until Luise and Hari were seated before pulling out a chair and slumping into it. Cairn rearranged the folds of his loose-fitting shirt and tunic before continuing. “As you can see, I would not have been able to perform such a feat.”

  “Captain, I...”

  “It is all right, Hari Singh,” Cairn lifted his hand. “I am better acquainted with my own limitations than any man alive. However,” Cairn pointed at the leather harness attached to the airship’s wheel. “Sickness and handicaps often lead to innovation.” Smiling, Cairn brushed his long black hair from his eyes, revealing thin red scars blistering the corners of each of his green eyes. “That contraption allowed me to stay at the helm for the duration of the storm. I am just sorry I could not do more.”

  “You saved the ship, the passengers and crew,” Luise leaned forward to touch Cairn’s hand, flinching as he pulled it out of her reach. “I am not sure what more you could have done.”

  “Perhaps,” Cairn pushed at the rolls of charts on the table’s surface. “However, I feel obliged to offer you my services, and the services of my ship.” He gestured at the charts. “I will take you wherever you wish to go, if...”

  “If?” Hari placed his palms on the table.

  “If you will rid me of my German problem.” Cairn’s hair hid the scars around his eyes as he shook his head. “They do plague me so with their imperial demands and their orders. This is a passenger ship, a skycruiser. Not a ferry or a freighter. It is meant for cruising great distances, exploring the skies,” Cairn’s eyes reflected the last of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. “Get them off my ship and I will help you with your task. I assume you have one.”

  “Yes,” Luise tugged her satchel into her lap. “A curious one at that.”

  “Then let us eat, you can tell me all about it over a meal.” Cairn pulled a tiny bell from the pocket of his tunic, its shrill ring summoning an orderly from the door at the rear of the bridge.

  “Yes, Captain,” Whyte paused at the sight of Hari and Luise. “What will i
t be?”

  “A sky platter for our stowaways and a bowl of steamed punch. We have much to discuss.”

  Chapter 9

  The Regal Giant

  The North Sea

  May, 1851

  Hannah clasped a fold of the emerald dress in her left hand as she slipped on the black heels. With a grim smile she twirled in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the bathroom door of her cabin. She let go of the dress and smoothed her hands over her ribs, following the black embroidered petals all the way to the satin bows just below her hips. Hannah’s cheeks dimpled as she twirled away from the mirror, crossing the floor to the bed. Pushing her fingers inside the pockets of her travel-stained corset jacket, Hannah retrieved the slim brass knuckles with the razor edges she had cut Romney’s arm with not so very long ago. She slipped the knuckles into the handbag that came with the dress.

  Hannah’s dress shushed as she crossed to the cabin door, opened it and stepped out into the corridor. She waited for an elderly couple to pass, smiling as they commented on her dress, before locking the cabin door and pushing the key into the pocket on the outside of the handbag. Hannah followed the couple to the grand staircase leading up to the lounge and dining area two decks above her cabin. She paused at the landing of the first deck as Blaidd slipped away from the wall and joined her.

  “Miss von Ense,” Blaidd parted his lips in a crooked grin. “You look pretty.”

  “We were not supposed to meet,” Hannah paused. “Where did you get that suit?”

  Blaidd took a step back from Hannah. Smoothing his hand over the leather tunic, he fiddled with the small leather pockets suspended over the grey plaid trousers with buckles attached to the leather. Blaidd tugged at the white cuffs at the end of his shirtsleeves with thick hairy fingers. “It will do, eh?”