Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure

by Mark C. King

  Before Sigmund could answer, Sir Bradford exited the carriage and walked up to the man so he could be clearly seen in the flickering lantern light. “Your name, young man,”

  The annoyance on the guards face quickly turned to astonishment. “Colonel Bradford! Umm, I am Lieutenant Mills, sir.”

  Sir Bradford said, “Lieutenant Mills, I need you to either let us pass or go get Lieutenant-General Shelton.”

  “This has been a busy night, sir. I may have difficulty locating him. Perhaps I could take a message?”

  Sir Bradford cocked his head and said menacingly, “You really think I have shown up in person at this hour to leave a message?” Then, curious, asked, “Why has it been a busy night?”

  “An order came down a little over an hour ago from Defence Minister Grimkraken calling many of the men to an assignment.”

  Holmes, Sigmund, Sutton, and Sir Bradford all looked at each other. They knew this was a call to arms. But against whom? Bradford looked back at the guardsman and said authoritatively, “Go find Shelton right now!”

  “Yes, sir! Right away, sir!” and the man ran off.

  About five minutes later the guardsman returned and announced, “Lieutenant-General Shelton has asked me to escort you to his office. Please follow me.” Mills waited until all were walking towards him and he led them through the gate, across the dark grounds to the main office building. Once inside, Mills led them down a white walled hallway, stopped at one of the doors that lined it, and opened it to allow the men to enter. Once the group was inside, Mills closed the door behind them.

  The office was dominated by a large oak desk. There were several paintings on the cream colored walls of past Field-Marshalls and other noteworthy military men. A man behind the desk, in uniform with several medals, smoke lazily floating from a pipe in his hand, rose from his seat as the group entered and said, “Edward!”

  “Thomas!” replied Sir Bradford. “Good to see you. We have to talk.”

  “What the devil is going on?”

  “Perhaps you can tell me. What was the order that came from the Defence Minister?” asked Sir Bradford.

  “I’m not sure I’m at liberty to tell you that. No offense, old friend, you understand how things work.”

  Sir Bradford bristled some at the rejection but put his feelings aside, introduced everyone – even Zachary – and started to catch Shelton up on the recent events regarding the Defence Minister.

  About a half an hour later, Lieutenant General Shelton was caught up with all that the group before him knew. He asked, “To be clear, you are saying that we need to make a move against the Defence Minister at this factory?”

  “Yes. That is exactly what needs to happen.” Sir Bradford said.

  Shelton asked, “Are you positive on these points? Who else knows of this?”

  “Positive, yes. I’m not sure that anyone outside of this room, besides those directly involved in the plot, knows the extent of things. You are the first step in changing that.”

  Shelton thought for a moment and then called out in a loud voice, “Enter!”

  Immediately the door opened and a half dozen armed soldiers entered the office. Shelton ordered, “Take these men to the brig.”

  “What are you doing?” demanded Sir Bradford, both surprise and anger in his voice.

  “I am helping the empire, Police Commissioner. What are you trying to do?”

  “I’m trying to prevent war! You’ve been in battle, do you want to see more death?”

  “The wars we fought were the result of savages. If we remove the savages, we remove war. Your shortsightedness is pitiful.” Then looking at his soldiers, “Get them out of here. And be sure to search them well, Mr. Shaw has a penchant for escape.”

  A few minutes later the four men, and one monkey, were locked in a cell, no hidden keys, no hidden lock picks – and no hope to speak of.

  26.

  Dudley Clarke had made many deliveries to the Battersea warehouse but never had he been asked to take something from there – until tonight. It was sometime after two in the morning that an aggressive knocking at his door woke him and his wife up. It was a messenger sent by Grimkraken with an urgent assignment. Clarke dressed quickly, combed back his receding grey hair, and said goodbye to his wife. He accompanied the messenger who took him straight to the train yard next to the warehouse. He was met there by the Defence Minister himself and was told that this delivery may be the most important step in their quest for the beneficial spread of the British Empire.

  Dudley had been operating trains for all of his adult life and had been working for the faction for several months. The assignment, deliver the cargo to the harbor at Portsmouth, was a simple one. Still, as the train roared down the tracks, Dudley felt a nervousness born from the importance he felt. Nervousness and pride. Christoph Grimkraken gave him the assignment personally. Go to Portsmouth, stop for nothing, and signal your arrival with an electric transmitter device that was installed in his engineer cabin. He wondered what the cargo was but was smart enough not to ask. Sometimes it is better not to know.

  Twenty minutes outside of Portsmouth, Dudley felt a shiver in the train that was not normal. Even after years of driving trains it was amazing to think that with all the noises and vibrations from normal operations that he could recognize a subtle shift. Dudley checked his gauges and found everything to be within normal operating parameters. Pulling on his large goggles, he opened the side window, letting in the rush of moist night air, and stuck his head out to look back along his train cars. Through the darkness nothing could be seen out of the ordinary – through the darkness almost nothing could be seen at all. A minute or so later, as the train continued on without any repeat oddities, Dudley gave no further thought to the abstract vibration. There was no way for him to know that the walls of the last car of his train had been discarded – achieved with weak joints and small charges – per Grimkraken’s plans.

  The train rumbled onward through the night, heading south west, coughing black smoke into the starless night, and remained right on schedule. Dudley would reach the outskirts of Portsmouth in a few minutes and then a few minutes more to reach the harbor. He stared at the electric transmitter, a simple box with a single switch, and marveled at the advancements of science. He understood engines and mechanics but the world of electricity was one that could not have been more foreign to him. It made him feel old and behind the current advancements of society. But he reminded himself, he was part of the advancement of society, not technologically, but morally and civilly. Surely technological advancement is a lesser concern than moral oneness. Feeling out of his depths with his own line of thoughts, Dudley shifted his focus to the lights of the city of Portsmouth not more than a mile ahead.

  As the train passed a few of the buildings, a great whooshing sound along with bright light startled Dudley. He didn’t know what it was but it seemed to be coming from behind him. He opened the window once again and looked back and what he saw terrified him. Buildings, trees, fences, everything that the train was passing was erupting in flames and disintegrating. Dudley thought back to his catholic upbringing and could only think that the fires of hell were pursuing him, destroying everything in its chase. As he considered what terrible sin he could have committed that would warrant such punishment, he increased the steam pressure to maximum, trying to outrun this fiery pursuer. It did not help. Dudley was unaware that the cause of this fiery destruction was on his train, on the last car. Sitting on that last train car were two large amalgam cubes, near the height of a train car and perfectly square, with one facing to the left and one to the right of the train. These cubes were producing heat far beyond the melting point of brick and ravaged everything that the train passed – disintegrating, melting, burning.

  Realizing that the increased speed of the train did nothing to distance it from the destructive fire, Dudley started to panic. He looked out the window again and nearly became paralyzed at the sight of continual destruction on a level he
has never seen nor imagined. Turning back to his controls he desperately looked for any way to increase his speed, something to help with an escape, and it was then that he focused on the electric signal switch that had been installed. Perhaps someone could help – he couldn’t think of how, but in his condition he wasn’t thinking too clearly – or perhaps the signal would serve as a warning. The roar and light of the deadly flames continued on relentlessly and Dudley figured he had nothing to lose by trying, so he reached for the switch. His finger hesitated over it, pausing to think of any other actions he could take, but there were none. He flipped the switch wondering in what form the signal would actually be transmitted and felt a new tremor in amongst all the others. Before he had time to consider the new vibration, the train engine exploded violently, destroying it, the track around it, and leaving Mrs. Clarke a widow.

  The aftermath showed that all the cars and the engine were rigged with explosives that obliterated them completely – along with the two amalgam cubes. Unbeknownst to Dudley, the trigger for the explosives was the supposed signal switch. Once flipped, it ignited the charges leaving no evidence as to the origin or nature of the weapon that attacked Portsmouth and left it burning.

  * * *

  Sigmund, Holmes, Sutton, and Sir Bradford did not sleep that night. Zachary curled up on Sigmund’s lap and managed sleep, blissfully ignorant of the danger they were all in. The group talked a little, finding a modicum of humor in the irony of both the Police Commissioner and the Chief Inspector being in jail. Mostly though, they were silent. As the night hours passed slowly, their thoughts ran from anger and frustration to worry and resignation. Even if they could open the door by some means, which there was nothing to indicate that they could, there was still an armed guard at the end of the hallway.

  By sometime mid-morning – they had even removed Sigmund’s pocket watch – the group was in a bit of a daze. They were tired physically, mentally, and emotionally, but were all brought into sharp focus by the sound of gunfire outside. Was Grimkraken attacking the barracks?

  There were no windows in their cell so the group gravitated to the only opening, the barred door. The cell looked into a darkened hallway and didn’t improve their view or understanding of what was going on outside. The guard at the end of the hall, by the only exit, became quite agitated, looking around, watching the door anxiously. He clearly wasn’t privy to what was happening either. More gunfire came from outside and some unintelligible yelling. The four men looked at each other, eager to know what was going on right outside their walls, but frustrated that they were completely impotent.

  The guard looked down the hall at the locked up prisoners and then ran outside, evidently to see what was happening or join the fight. Doing so, he left the keys to the cells unguarded on the wall. Sigmund pined, “The keys are right there! If only…”

  “Zachary, keys.” Sutton said to his monkey, pointing down the hall. The group watched as the monkey slipped through the cell doors and walked down the hallway. “Good job!” encouraged Sutton. Zachary jumped up on the chair that the guard was sitting on and was able to reach up and grab the key ring. “Now come back, Zachary, bring the keys.”

  The rest of the group remained silent – not wanting to possibly distract the monkey from his task. Outside, the yelling grew louder but there were fewer gunshots. Zachary walked back towards the cell, keys in hand, and then handed them to Sutton.

  A collective cheer erupted from the cell. Sir Bradford commented, “Zachary, you have redeemed many of your brethren.”

  Sutton unlocked the cell door and as they walked down the dark hallway towards the exit they heard several gunshots close to their exit and even louder yelling. They all froze for a moment, hoping the sounds would pass, but instead the door opened and they heard a man shout, “In here!”

  The four men held their breath and tightened their muscles in preparation for action. Out of the gloom of the hallway they saw armed soldiers coming towards them. The four prisoners took a few steps back away from the door, putting a little distance between them and this new threat – but there was nowhere to go.

  Three soldiers stopped in front of them and stared. The prisoners stared back and watched as a fourth soldier pushed his way to the front. It was the gate guardsman from the previous night.

  Sir Bradford stepped forward, a man trying to take control of the situation, as impossible as it seemed. “Lieutenant Mills, what is going on?”

  “My apologies, Sir Bradford, but we are here to bring you out.”

  Sutton called out, “Why? To kill us?”

  Mills looked at Sutton in confusion and then protested, “Oh no! You don’t understand. A group loyal to the Empire, not Grimkraken, has fought back against Lieutenant-General Shelton. The base was divided, but the loyals have prevailed. However, since many of Grimkraken’s men had already left the base, the few remaining were much outnumbered.”

  “And Shelton?” asked Sir Bradford.

  “He escaped.”

  Sir Bradford exhaled and took on a look of concentration. A few moments passed and then in an authoritative voice said, “Alright, lead the way, Lieutenant, we need to organize. Can you get our belongings?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have them brought to you.” Replied Mills. He then led the soldiers and the group outside into the grey morning. As they headed across the yard to the main office, Mills stopped and said, “There is more you need to know.”

  The group stopped and looked at Mills as he continued, “It’s Portsmouth. It has been attacked.”

  “Attacked! How? By whom?” exclaimed Sir Bradford.

  “The reports are that the Ottomans are behind it but these are preliminary reports at best.”

  “The Ottomans? That’s absurd! What was the nature of the attack? Were there soldiers?”

  “No, nothing like that. It was a train mounted weapon. The early reports are that everything the train passed was destroyed.”

  Sutton spoke up, “Destroyed? How so, cannons?”

  Mills hesitated a little, “I’m not exactly sure. The reports do not make much sense. A police dirigible was in flight and watched the destruction from above. They reported, not cannons, but more like some kind of disintegration weapon. Buildings were bursting into flames. The fires in the city are still raging. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard of.”

  Sutton rubbed his chin and said, “It has to be an amalgam cube, maybe several.”

  “How could these little cubes do that kind of damage?” Sigmund asked.

  “Imagine if it was not a small cube. It was carried by a train, it could be huge. The heat grows in proportion to the size of the cube. You’ve seen what a cube the size of a snuff box can do, imagine if they built one the size of, say, a carriage. It could create temperatures beyond measure.”

  Lieutenant Mills looked at Sutton in terror. He was unaware of these cubes but he understood enough – a new and terrible heat weapon. Sir Bradford, who had some knowledge of the cubes, was also was horrified, “Grimkraken is killing innocent people. His own countryman! Lieutenant Mills, call the men to the front gates. Fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  It took twenty minutes to gather all the men – It looked to be around one hundred-fifty. Holmes, Sigmund, and Sutton stood near Sir Bradford. The Police Commissioner turned to Holmes and said, “I need you to gather the police force to join us, as many as can be reached. Meet us at Battersea. You probably won’t get there before us but if you do, stay out of sight and do nothing until I arrive.”

  “Yes, sir.” Holmes turned and ran off.

  Next, Sir Bradford looked at Sutton and said, “We need to get our information to the highest levels. I need you to approach the palace. Tell them I sent you and that you have critical information about the attack on Portsmouth. Use whatever contacts you have. It won’t be easy, but you must be adamant.”

  Sutton nodded slowly in agreement, Zachary sat quietly on is shoulder. It would be better if Sir Bradford went, he thoug
ht, but he knew that Sir Bradford would be busy leading men into battle. “I understand. I’ll get through somehow. I have a few people who I know are opposed to Grimkraken.”

  Sir Bradford smiled as Sutton walked away and then turned to Sigmund and commented, “I guess you get to stay with me.”

  Sigmund looked around. He had never been in the army and certainly had never prepared for battle. He felt scared and proud at the same time. He met Sir Bradford’s eyes and felt a strong sense of right. “Until the end, sir.”

  “Let’s not be too dramatic, eh?” Sir Bradford then stepped on a box next to the guardhouse which signaled the surrounding men to come to attention. He looked over the group slowly, sized up the men, and radiated authority. He thought his days of leading men to battle were far behind him. He said to the gathered men, “I thought my days of leading men to battle were far behind me. But when the Empire is in need, no one is exempt, not even old one-armed soldiers.” The group chuckled a little at this. Sir Bradford had a way of making men feel at ease. He had the balance of leadership and friendship, knowing exactly when to apply both. He continued, “Most of you are familiar with the war faction that has grown in the government. This faction has many supporters and looks to be led by our new Defence Minister, Christoph Grimkraken. You are also aware of the attack on Portsmouth this morning. What you are not aware of is that the attack was not from the Ottomans, but was organized by Defence Minister Grimkraken and his faction.”