Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure

by Mark C. King

“Main gun is being trained on the Eagle Eye.”

  “They are out of range, correct?”

  “Yes, sir, they are–” the sentence was interrupted by a flash of light. The crew looked through the forward windows and could see what was once the Eagle Eye become a falling fireball.

  Faulkner stared in horror. One of his ships was down. They must have been too close, they must have been mistaken about their distance. He had a hard time convincing himself of this as the crew of Eagle Eye was superb. “Hoffman, tell the squadron to execute maneuver Falcon-One.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Falcon-One was a simple foundational tactic. It would spread the squadron out and increase all their altitudes. It was the beginning of a surrounding technique.

  Hoffman looked over at the Captain, a confused and nervous look on his face, “Sir, I’m picking up another signal. It is saying to attack the fleet.”

  “Who’s sending it?”

  “Uncertain, sir. There is no identification given.”

  The blast of cannons with closely followed explosions sounded throughout the cabin shocking the bridge crew. Faulkner screamed, “What the devil?” as they all looked out the port windows. They could make out the Talon, moving away and gaining altitude as ordered, rocking and smoking. Further past, they could see the Lightning, matching the Talon, and it was firing its cannons. Talon took another hit and steam started to billow out its side. The engine room was compromised.

  Faulkner was able to put together the message and this attack quickly. The Lightning was being manned by those siding with Grimkraken. He raged at the treasonous murder and picked up a speaking tube and shouted, “Fire on the Lightning. Repeat, fire on the Lighting! Fifty percent incendiary. Blow those traitors out of the sky!” Half the cannons would contain incendiary shells that would be aimed at the balloon. The hydrogen that lifted these machines was highly flammable.

  The Talon was losing altitude. Not only were its engines compromised, the balloon must have taken puncture damage as well. There was little that the Dominator could do but hope and pray that the descent would be slow enough to not kill the crew – whomever was left of it.

  The Dominator shook with its cannon barrage. In the cabin, the sound was near deafening and completely satisfying to the crew that just watched their fellow ship be downed. The Lightning was a little far off, but still well within range – it took several hits. Another barrage and the Lightning’s cabin exploded followed by its balloon. Another fireball rained down on London.

  Faulkner reconsidered his situation. They hadn’t even reached the battlefront and he was down three ships. Apparently the Firefly and the Osprey were loyal since they haven’t attacked each other or him. “Hoffman, tell the remaining ships to execute Protocol Five – preferably the Thames.” Protocol Five had dirigibles drop their bombs in a safe location to reduce weight.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Picking up another speaking tube, Faulkner commanded, “Bombardier, Protocol Five.” Faulkner walked back to his chair and sat heavily. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of the next steps – mourning would be for later. Grimkraken’s ship, whatever kind it was, had at least one working long range cannon. If that was true, the advantage could be negated by getting in close. They best way to get close was to approach through the clouds so as not to be seen and fired upon. “Hoffman, Falcon-Three.”

  “Communicated, sir. Falcon-Three.”

  The squadron was already climbing, but now they would stop in the middle of the cloud layer. Faulkner rose up from his chair again and looked out the front window. The Battersea area was visible, although small, and he could just make out some object hovering above the ground. He took up the spyglass and directed his view towards the object. His mouth opened in surprise when he saw the flying battleship. He couldn’t make out a lot of detail still, but it was large, had many guns, and was rising straight up quickly without a visible balloon. Not possible!

  As the Dominator reached the cloud layer, he lost his view of the enemy ship – but the memory of it was crystal clear.

  They flew on through the clouds, seeing nothing but greyness. Although they couldn’t be sure, they knew they were approaching their firing range to the last known position of the enemy ship. A quietness came over the crew, as if they made too much noise it would give their position away. They could hear their engines but also a deep thrumming sound that was not familiar. It was unnerving. Faulkner picked up a tube and commanded, “Fire on sight. Twenty-five percent incendiary.” His ship would not be found impotent.

  The crew looked to the right as they saw flashes through the clouds and sounds of cannon fire. Hoffman spoke up, “It’s the Osprey, they’ve engaged the enemy ship.”

  Faulkner, trying to stay calm for his crew, said, “Helmsmen, head toward the lights. When in sight of the enemy, turn for a broadside attack.”

  “Aye, sir.” Responded Helmsman Simmons.

  “Hoffman, radio Firefly and tell them to converge and engage.”

  The cannon fire continued, more explosions and lights broke through the grey. Faulkner gripped his seat arms with white knuckles – not nervous, but eager. The cabin suddenly filled with light, so much so that the crew shielded their eyes. The light was immediately followed by a large explosion. Looking back out the window they saw a consistent, but flickering light, descending through the clouds. Was it the Osprey or the enemy?

  Before Faulkner could ask, Hoffman said, “I’m getting no response from the Osprey. I think it was them.”

  “Keep trying. We do not know that for sure.” Faulkner didn’t even believe himself. Then, out of the greyness a large, dark shape started to form. It clearly wasn’t the Osprey or the Firefly, it was Grimkraken’s ship. “Fire!” he yelled into a tube. “Helmsman, turn us to port, we will give them a full taste!”

  The front cannons fired, sending a shiver through the cabin. They saw an explosion on the enemy ship and the crew whooped with excitement. The Dominator turned to port slowly, giving the side cannons an angle to shoot at. The crew all gasped in surprise as the enemy ship also turned but did so at a speed that no one thought possible. It has turned completely around, evidently its front now facing them, before the Dominator could make its ninety degree turn to port. They saw two flashes of light, one from each side of center of the enemy ship and they all braced for impact. With a loud explosion, the ship shook, but did not change its course or elevation. The armor had withstood the attack. You are not dealing with a scout ship now! thought Faulkner.

  A few more seconds went by and then the Dominator was in position and fired its full complement of eight side cannons. Explosions rocked the enemy ship and it even dipped down and to the left. The crew again gave a cheer at the sight but didn’t fail to notice that the enemy ship kept towards them.

  Faulkner was the first to understand that somehow this enemy ship was powered solely by propellers – one of them not turning due to his recent cannon fire. The idea of a craft like this had been discussed since DaVinci’s time, but never could be executed in a practical manner. His awe and confusion was short-lived as the main gun of the enemy fired. With a thunderous sound, the front of the armored cabin disappeared. The helmsman, Simmons, was gone, his station was gone. The cannon had ripped through the armor as if it didn’t exist. Wind poured into the bridge through the large opening.

  The Dominator fired its cannons again, more explosions on the enemy ship, but no visible change in its approach.

  Faulkner had lost all directional control of his ship. He and his men were sitting ducks. Amidst the rushing wind he pulled up the engineer tube and shouted, “Reduce altitude! Land us as quickly as possible!”

  A moment later the ship lurched as air was being released from the balloons. The enemy fired its main cannon again and they could feel the impact somewhere above the cabin section. The ship lurched down quickly – Faulkner concluded that the second shot hit the shield and burst one, or more of the pocketed balloons.

  The
Dominator descended at a greater speed now – too fast for any kind of safe landing. Faulkner could imagine the engineers trying to compensate by adding gas to the remaining pockets. He hoped there were enough left. He looked at Hoffman and shouted over the wind, “Contact Firefly, tell them to retreat!”

  The Falcon was down.

  * * *

  The battle in the sky was yet another event unlike anything Sigmund had ever seen. Not that he could see much of the battle as it was mostly hidden by clouds, but the explosions and eventually falling ships was enough to piece together what happened. To his, and the other’s dismay, none of the falling ships were Grimkraken’s. His heart sank as he watched the largest of the RAF dirigibles descend to the earth.

  While the battle above their head was happening, a good number of the remaining army and police force had entered the factory to make sure it was unoccupied. Those that stayed on the battle line were attending to the casualties. Sigmund sat on a large chunk of iron – a piece of one of the armored vehicles – and began to shake. The battle was over, the immediate danger was gone, and now the emotions that were trapped behind adrenaline and action were let free. His body shook as if he was freezing. His mind refused to focus, preferring a numbness to any thought. As seconds, minutes, hours – Sigmund had no sense of time – passed by, a small thought began to penetrate the numbness. Death. There were many dozens dead around him. The survivors were lining the dead in rows for later transport and proper burial. Sitting alone amidst the still smoking battlefield, Sigmund began to cry. He was not prepared for these events. He was not prepared for surviving while others died.

  No one approached Sigmund for what felt like a long time. Perhaps it was because they knew that there was no help to give, perhaps because everyone was too busy attending to the wounded and dead. He cursed himself for not helping but could not get his body to move.

  “Sigmund,” a soft voice called out. He heard it but his mind refused to put meaning to it. It was just a sound. “Sigmund, it’s Dan.” He still didn’t stir.

  It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he actually realized that someone was near him, that someone was talking to him. He looked up and saw Lieutenant Daniel Mills looking back. “Sigmund, the factory is cleared of Grimkraken’s men. Could you come take a look?”

  Sigmund stared for a moment, blinked, and wiped his eyes. Without getting up he asked, “How do you do it?”

  It was a vague question, but Mills knew what Sigmund was asking. How do you handle a battle, war, death? “Because I didn’t want it. And it was with the goal of preventing more of this.”

  Sigmund didn’t argue but that view wasn’t good enough for him. Maybe that’s the thing, everyone finds their own way to cope. He didn’t know what would be his way but he knew without a doubt that it would include Alexis and Sarah. He always thought that they were reliant on him, that it was a one sided support system, but the truth was that they supported him just as much, if not more, than he did them. Their love and friendship was everything to Sigmund. The thought of them made his eyes pool again with tears. He wanted nothing more than to be sitting in their kitchen enjoying a meal, talking and laughing.

  “Sigmund, we need your help. Can you stand?”

  The thought of his family gave Sigmund enough resolve to stand up and follow Mills. They walked through the remains of the factory wall, past the destroyed machines, and more dead bodies. Sigmund forced himself not to look – his hatred for death could not be expanded. The factory itself suffered a fair amount of damage – it was never the target, but it stood right behind the battle line and took many hits. Bricks and stone littered the area all around the front of the building. The main doors were still wide open and it was through here that Dan and Sigmund entered. After they walked through the doors, Dan asked, “Where was it that you found the cube?”

  Sigmund turned to his right to where the lab is, or was, and pointed. The multistory structure that held the lab and the offices above was in a pile of rubble. Several of the cannon shots had hit that section. They walked over to it, carefully stepping around bricks, and climbing over some larger debris, to the lab area. There was nothing to left to see. If there were any cubes or other important items, they would be crushed to oblivion under this pile of rubble. He looked at Mills and shook his head slowly, “This is where I found it. There was a lab here with some cubes and apparatuses.” He looked off into the depth of the factory and said, “I never made it beyond this room, perhaps there were other labs or production areas.”

  Mills looked at the rubble for a moment and then said, “Our men are searching for anything now.”

  “Has Sutton found anything?”

  “No.” answered Mills, “Not yet. He believes that Grimkraken took everything with him on his airship.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’m not sure,” admitted Mills. “We don’t have ground cannons that can reach an airship and he just defeated a fleet of our dirigibles. And that cannon…”

  “Sutton called it a Gauss cannon. Says that it can fire a projectile many times faster and farther than any conventional cannon.”

  “Whatever it is called, it is beyond anything we have. If he rises above the clouds he should be able to see anyone approaching him and fire long before the opposing ship was close enough to fire its own cannons. The question is what does Grimkraken plan to do with it.”

  An hour later, the factory had been searched and found empty of any cubes or the designs for them. Even the war machines were searched but were found empty of viable cubes. It seems that the furnaces that housed the cubes had a small explosive set to go off if the machine was defeated.

  It was hard for Sigmund to stomach that after all of this, Grimkraken had escaped and everything important was with him.

  30.

  Word spread through London like a rushing sandstorm. No crack or crevice of society escaped the news of the battles of the day. By the night of the battle, London was divided. There was a growing section of the population that agreed with the ideals of Grimkraken, of believing that they were better than others and should impart their superior ways on the masses of the world. The majority of London was not of that mindset but it didn’t prevent some small riots and fighting in the streets and taverns.

  The news of Portsmouth being attacked – and still burning ferociously – seemed to take a lesser spot in people’s minds as London had its own problems to deal with. The following day’s papers, Sunday, confirmed many of the rumors that spread throughout the city, that a rebel group led by Grimkraken, had pioneered new technology and was looking to reestablish the dominance of the British Empire for the said reason of creating a civilized world. For the duration of the day it was the only conversation piece. At night, people stood outside and on their roofs to see the menacing airship that hovered above them.

  The following Monday, Grimkraken acted. He had taken his ship and flown north west to Warwickshire and bombarded the coal mining operation there. There were fortunately only a few casualties as he attacked prior to the start of the workday. When the ship had returned to London he sent a message that if he did not receive the support of the Empire, he would destroy every coal operation in England, one by one. This would both cripple the country and make his new power source more of a necessity.

  The RAF mounted another attack against the enemy airship but it proved even more unsuccessful than the first attack. The dirigibles were destroyed without a single shot being fired from them. The enemy ship was too fast and too well armed to be taken down by RAF ships. England didn’t have an answer for Grimkraken. They needed one by midnight Wednesday before another coal operation was destroyed.

  * * *

  The greyness of the previous days gave way to a beautiful Tuesday morning. The skies were clear and the sun was bright. It was completely wasted on London. Grimkraken’s ship hung over the city like the darkest of storm clouds. The thrumming over London gave a constant reminder of its presence during the d
ay and at night that was added to by powerful lights that emanated from it to scan the surrounding sky. The citizens knew that at any moment it could open fire and destroy most anything it wanted and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  Those frustrating thoughts, and others, filled the room that Sigmund currently found himself in. He had been summoned to the Northolt Air Base and was shown to a large conference room in the main office facilities. The room was paneled in dark wood, had a large conference table that could easily seat more than a dozen people, and three windows that currently had the curtains half pulled. Around the table were several men – those that Sigmund knew were Richard Sutton, Chief Inspector Gabriel Holmes, Sir Bradford, and Lieutenant Daniel Mills. One other that Sigmund recognized was none other than the Prime Minister himself, Arthur Balfour – who had a persistent scowl on his face as if he couldn’t believe he had to deal with this mess. The rest of the people looked to be military and government types. Sigmund took a seat near Mills and felt very much out of place. He could see why the rest were here, police, military, and even Sutton made sense from an engineering viewpoint. All had a purpose he could see, except for himself – the carriage driver and thief.