Clash of the Rival Robots

by Gareth P. Jones

  “Indeed, it will.”

  The duke knocked Clockheart’s blade away and ten soldiers surrounded him. With his cutlass in one hand and the golden staff in the other, the captain spun around to keep the soldiers back. “Now would be a good time to use the knockout gas, Mr Bilge-rat,” he yelled.

  “Sorry, Captain,” Bilge-rat was using an extremely rusty-looking dagger to fend off an attacker. “They’ve tied up me pipes, good and proper.”

  “That’s right. And now we’re going to tie up this situation … good and proper.” The Iron Duke placed one foot on Bilge-rat’s barrel triumphantly.

  “There are too many of them,” said Lexi, defending himself against three of the duke’s men. “It’s overwhelming, overpowering … hopeless.”

  “Take heart, ye metal mates,” said Captain Clockheart. “Steampunk Pirates are made of sterner stuff than this pathetic excuse for an army. Let’s remind them what they’re up against.” The captain held the golden staff above his head. “For the Leaky Battery,” he yelled, lunging at the duke.

  The Iron Duke blocked Clockheart with his own sword then counter-attacked and caught the captain’s coat button with the tip of his blade. The button went flying off.

  “Ha,” the duke said. “Surrender, Clockheart.”

  “You seem to have forgotten something,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “Forgotten what?” demanded the duke.

  “Steel cuts through pipe.” Captain Clockheart brought down his sword and sliced through the hosepipe. Gas gushed out. Without handkerchiefs to protect them, the duke, admiral and their entire army dropped like flies.

  Captain Clockheart picked up the golden globe. “Now, my metal marvels, grab all the treasure you can carry and get back to the Leaky Battery!”

  “You’ve heard that it’s unlucky to harm an albatross, ain’t you?” said Ridgey, looking down at the River Thames.

  Gadge stood at the base of the plank, using his extendable arm to poke the mechanical albatross further towards the end.

  “I believe that saying only refers to shooting them down,” said Quartermaster Lexi. “There’s nothing about making them walk the plank.”

  “Click, even if there was, tick, it wouldn’t matter,” said First Mate Mainspring. “Tock, you’re not a real albatross.”

  “Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” said Ridgey.

  “With your wings bound, you’ll sink like a stone,” said Captain Clockheart. “Now, for the last time, where are Pendle and Twitter?”

  Gadge stamped his foot, making both the plank and the bird wobble.

  “All right, all right.” Ridgey balanced on the tips of his claws to avoid falling in. “I’ll tell you everything. It was Swift. The whole thing was set up by him. He only created me to lead you to the Tower.”

  “I say we send this double-crossing bird for a swim,” said Gadge.

  “No,” said Captain Clockheart. “Let him back on the ship … but keep his wings tied.”

  “Click, are you mad?” said Mainspring. “Tick, if this captain don’t have the guts to do what’s right, then I know who will. Tock, me.”

  “I said no.” Captain Clockheart showed Mainspring the blade of his cutlass. “Ridgey was made the way he is. It ain’t his fault that he’s a dirty, two-faced, stinking scallywag.”

  “Thank you,” said Ridgey. “I think.”

  “Besides, he’ll show us where Swift has taken Pendle.”

  “That’s right, his workshop is about a mile upriver,” said Ridgey. “You won’t be able to take the ship because of all the low bridges.”

  “Click, are you mad?” said Mainspring. “Tick, would you take your crew from one trap straight into another? Tock, and all for the sake of a cabin boy and a parrot.”

  “I’d walk into a thousand traps for the sake of young Pendle.” Vapour hissed from the captain’s eye sockets as he spoke.

  “Click, and this crew will follow you. Tick, because they have no choice. Tock, after all, they were designed to follow your orders.”

  The line of steam shooting from his head thinned as Captain Clockheart thought this. “That’s not right, is it? My crew chose to follow me … didn’t they?”

  Lexi’s word-wheel whirred around. “It is true that you were designed as our leader. The crew were made to follow your orders.”

  Steam put-put-putted out of Captain Clockheart’s head as he considered this. When he next spoke, it was to address the whole crew.

  “I’ve decided that Mainspring is right. This is most likely a trap, but since we cannot leave our own behind, I will go and rescue our cabin boy and Twitter. The rest of you will stay here. If I’m not back by sunrise then Mainspring is your captain. Do as he bids and he will lead you to further glory. Those are my orders.”

  The crew fell silent for a moment, as the captain’s words sank in.

  “You won’t go alone, Captain,” said Gadge. “Lexi and I will join you.”

  “Er…” began Lexi.

  “As officers, we can make our own decisions and we’re not afraid of death,” continued Gadge.

  “Actually…” said Lexi.

  Captain Clockheart slapped them both on the back and grinned. “Very good. Then my officers and I will rescue Pendle. Ridgey will come, too, to show us the way.”

  “Then you’ll let me go?” said the albatross.

  “Once we have Pendle and we’re safely away, you’ll have your freedom. You have my word.”

  “After all he’s done!” said Gadge.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “You won’t regret this,” said Ridgey.

  “But if I get so much as a whiff of treachery, I’ll drop you into this old river hook, line and sinker!”

  “Captain,” said Lexi, “the chances of the three of us surviving this mission are…”

  Gadge clonked Lexi on the back of the head, shutting him down, then lifted him up on to his shoulder. “Prepare to lower the rowing boat,” he said.

  “Click, the ship will be safe under my command,” said Mainspring.

  “It better be,” said Captain Clockheart. “I intend to be back by sunrise, but if I’m not I want you to do as I said and sail away. We have too many enemies here. Now, Mr Gadge, let’s hear a song to lift our spirits.”

  As the rowing boat was lowered into the water, Gadge threw his head back and sang:

  The Iron Duke and Admiral Fussington entered the royal chamber to find the king sitting on a plump cushion with his trousers rolled up while a woman rubbed the soles of his feet.

  “Ah, Duke and Admiral thingy-bob, you really should try this. It’s called a foot massage and Me is an expert. Apparently she used to tend to the feet of the Emperor of China. Imagine the stories she could tell, if she could talk.”

  “Can’t she talk?” asked Admiral Fussington.

  “Yes, but only Chinese,” replied the king, “and Chinese is all Greek to me. Or double Dutch at least. Anyway, it’s very relaxing. What news do you bring?”

  “The Steampunk Pirates got away with the jewels,” said Admiral Fussington.

  “What?” The king kicked up his legs in anger. Me scowled and said something in Chinese.

  The duke scowled at the admiral and said, “Your Majesty, you must understand…”

  “I don’t want to hear more excuses. That was your last chance. Where’s my messenger?”

  The messenger boy appeared from behind a velvet curtain. “Good evening. You’re through to Ralf. Please state the name of the person you would like to send a message to.”

  “Mr Richmond Swift,” said the king.

  “I think you said Mr Richmond Swift. Is that right?”

  “Yes. Tell him that the Steampunk Pirates have escaped and that he has permission to destroy them using whatever means necessary. If he does this job well, the reward will be his.”

  “Right.” Ralf scribbled down the message. “Now, would you like me to play your message back to you?”
He gave his lute a couple of strums then began to sing in a high-pitched voice. “The Steampunk Pirates have escaped…”

  “Stop that. Just deliver it – and quickly,” ordered the king.

  “But, Your Majesty,” pleaded the Iron Duke. “The safety of the crown jewels can’t be trusted to a non-military man like Swift.”

  “The pirates haven’t got the crown jewels, you fool,” snapped the king irritably.

  “But we saw them,” said the duke.

  “And felt them,” added Admiral Fussington, rubbing his head.

  “Luckily for you two, Mr Swift guessed you would fail and had the real ones hidden and replaced with fakes. Now both of you get out. You’ve managed to ruin a perfectly good massage.”

  First Mate Mainspring stood alone by the ship’s wheel, staring out into the fog.

  “Click, soon the sky will lighten,” he muttered. “Tick, then the ship will be under my command. Tock, Captain Mainspring.”

  He could hear the crew down in the dining cabin, telling funny stories, eating damp wood, drinking crude oil and singing rude songs.

  First Mate Mainspring opened the hatch and climbed down the wooden stairs to join them. “Click, quieten down,” he shouted. “Tick, you rusting ruffians had better buck up your ideas. This ship has a wobbly mast, a wonky rudder and the dirtiest deck this side of Barbary Bay. Tock, so get to work.”

  “Aye aye, First Mate Mainspring.” Washer Williams saluted.

  Mainspring picked up a tankard of fish oil and threw it at him. “Click, you’ll call me Captain while Clockheart’s not on board, Mr Williams.”

  “Captain First Mate Mainspring?” said Tin-pot Paddy with a confused look. “It’s a bit long-winded is it not, so it is?”

  “That’s very true…” said Mr Pumps.

  “Aye, it is…” agreed Washer Williams.

  “A bit too long…” said Rust Knuckles, nodding vigorously.

  “Click, just Captain… Tick, Captain Mainspring. Tock, when the sun rises I’ll be captain of this vessel for good.”

  “Is that good?” asked Rust Knuckles.

  “Sounds bad to me,” said Loose-screw.

  Mainspring brought his cutlass down on the table. “Click, when I’m captain, you’ll have to shape up for sure. Tick, there’ll be no more sitting around singing silly sea shanties.”

  “Shame. I do like a nice sea shanty, Captain First Mate Mainspring.” Old Tinder burst into song:

  “Click, yes, well, there’ll be no more of that kind of nonsense when I’m in charge,” said Mainspring. “Tick, and you’d better get used to it. Tock, so get swabbing, fixing and hammering and let’s get this ship ready for a new horizon.”

  Gadge brought the rowing boat alongside the wooden jetty on the south bank of the river. Captain Clockheart jumped off and tied it next to a paddle steamer with huge wooden wheels on either side.

  “This is the place,” said Ridgey. “Can I go now?”

  “No,” said Captain Clockheart. “Argh, now I do remember this vessel.” He inspected the paddle steamer.

  “That’s right, it’s Swift’s.” said Ridgey.

  “Och, as I recall, Swift took us to the palace in it,” said Gadge.

  “It has a steam engine similar to the one Pendle installed on our own ship,” said Lexi.

  Mr Swift’s workshop was a huge brick building, quite unlike any other in London. Along the wall, a waterwheel was pushed round by the flow of the Thames. The wheel was connected to more cogs and wheels, all clicking as they turned. And high above them, the roof was lined with rows of chimneys.

  “To think we were born here,” whispered Gadge.

  “Great, now it’s a trip down memory lane,” said Ridgey.

  “Gadge, bind that bird’s beak,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “Come on now, lads…” began Ridgey.

  “Sorry. Swift made you as a spy,” said Clockheart. “Treachery is in your nature.”

  “A bird can change,” said Ridgey. “A bird can … mmm … mmm.”

  Gadge clamped Ridgey’s beak shut and wrapped the rope around it.

  “Mmm-mmm-mm,” said Ridgey.

  “That’s better,” said Gadge.

  The pirates approached the workshop.

  “Shouldn’t we concoct some kind of plan, Captain?” asked Lexi.

  “I’ve got a plan,” he replied. “Get in, get our crew members and get out.”

  “Right,” said Lexi. “I do like it. It’s just, maybe … it’s a little lacking in detail.”

  “It’s best not to overthink things,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” replied Lexi.

  “Here’s the door,” said Gadge.

  “Then prepare to meet your maker,” said the captain.

  “A rather unfortunate choice of phrase given the—” said Lexi.

  “Quiet,” said Captain Clockheart, “this is no time for talking.”

  “Or thinking, apparently,” grumbled Lexi.

  Gadge twisted his arm attachment and selected his largest gun barrel. “Everyone ready?”

  Captain Clockheart pushed the door and all three of them stepped into the workshop. It was pitch black inside. They took a couple of steps then heard a familiar voice squawk, “It’s a trap! It’s a trap!”

  “Ah, Twitter…” Captain Clockheart’s words were cut short when something snapped shut around his wrists and whisked him off the ground.

  “What’s going on?” demanded Gadge, struggling against the chains that were holding him.

  “We’ve been trapped … ensnared … caught,” said Lexi.

  Lights flickered on, revealing what had happened. The pirates all had metal cuffs around their wrists, attached to heavy chains suspended from the ceiling by an intricate pulley system.

  “Told you so! Told you so!” squawked Twitter from inside a cage hanging from the ceiling.

  “This place hasn’t changed,” said Gadge. “The kilns, the workbenches, these pillars…”

  “They’re chimneys, actually, and there have been a few changes,” said a voice. “The light bulbs are new, for instance.” Mr Swift was leaning against a wall with his hand on a light switch. “It’s called electricity,” he said. “It’s going to revolutionize the world. Unlike you … who are about to leave it.”

  Captain Clockheart, Lexi and Gadge wriggled and struggled but were unable to escape from the cuffs and chains suspending them from the ceiling.

  “We’re only here for our cabin boy,” said Captain Clockheart. “Give up Pendle and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Yes, of course, your cabin boy,” said Mr Swift. “Tesla, bring in the one they call Pendle. Faraday, come and say hello, too.”

  A pair of identical mechanical soldiers stepped out from behind two pillars. One had its arms wrapped around Pendle, the other was pointing its gun at the pirates.

  “Captain?” said Pendle. “You shouldn’t have come. He means to kill you!”

  “He wouldn’t be the first to try that today,” said Captain Clockheart, letting out a gassy chuckle.

  “How remarkable,” said Mr Swift, stepping closer, “you have even learned how to replicate human emotions.”

  “Swift, you scurvy scoundrel,” said Captain Clockheart. “When I get my iron hands around that pink little neck of yours, I’ll squeeze so hard you’ll wish you’d never made us.”

  The inventor clapped his hands together excitedly. “And what colourful language. Unfortunately for you, my Electrical Soldiers may have something to say about that. They’re designed to follow my orders.”

  “WE WILL OBEY,” said the soldiers.

  “There’s that word again. Electrical…” Lexi’s word-wheel whizzed around. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s new,” said Swift. “Unlike you lot, who are looking very old, if you don’t mind me saying. If I’d known you were going to run off to sea I’d have made you out of something better suited to a sailor’s life. Tesla and Faraday
are made from the finest steel.”

  Pendle struggled. “You think you can control these things, but don’t you see that once you have given something life, it is out of your control?”

  “Everything looks under control to me,” responded Mr Swift. “I can give life and I can take it away. Now, for the final time, what happened in that kitchen back at the king’s birthday party? What did Pendle do?”

  “You can’t make us talk,” said Captain Clockheart.

  “No, but I can do this.” He clicked his fingers and Tesla stretched Pendle’s arms wide, making her cry out in pain.

  “Just tell me what I want to know and this ordeal will be over,” said Mr Swift.

  “It was me!” squawked Twitter. “It was me!”

  “Be quiet,” snapped Mr Swift. “I’m not interested in this talking pet.”

  “Actually Twitter is correct,” said Lexi. “Back in the king’s kitchen, he put thoughts of freedom in my head. He loosened the captain’s valve and he wound up Mainspring. I don’t know how, but it was Twitter who freed every one of us.”

  “The parrot?” Mr Swift grabbed a pulley and lowered the cage until he was eye to eye with Twitter. “You mean to say that the bird is responsible for all of this chaos?”

  “You call it chaos,” said Pendle. “We call it life.”

  “I don’t care what anyone calls it. It’s time for it to end.” Mr Swift opened the cage and grabbed Twitter by his neck.

  “You’ve got your answer. Leave him alone,” protested Pendle.

  Twitter flapped his wings and tried to peck Mr Swift, but his grip was firm. “I have part of my answer. Next I will need to take this bird apart cog by cog to learn how it was made. You see, I must ensure the loyalty of my army. The king won’t want them unless I can guarantee they will stay faithful.”