by John Eubank
“What happened?” Will said.
“A guddle,” Donell shrugged. A mess. “Not a muckled guddle, mind ye. Just a guddle. Run, by the way.”
Reaching an exit, they looked through and stopped dead in their tracks. The stadium was set well back from the roads, but an armada of black locomobiles and steemwagons loaded with Rasmussen agents had driven over the curbs and was coming at them. They blew steam whistles, forcing the fans still walking in to dodge out of their way. Overhead, a large and very fast airship circled.
“Och!” the short man groaned. “Now it’s a right muckled guddle!” A very big mess! “We need wheels. This way.”
He took off running deeper into the complex under the stadium, and they followed.
“It’s even worse,” Will called as he hustled to keep up. “I know where the Tracium is, but so do the Rasmussens!”
***
“Sir,” the captain of Skyshadow said, turning away from a brass speaking tube on the bridge. “Urgent message from an agent below.”
“He’d better be explaining,” Clyve growled, “why they haven’t yet emerged with the Steemjammer children.”
“One moment. They’re still decoding.”
“Where is Bram?”
The Skyshadow had been moving into position during the fight atop the stadium, so they hadn’t been able to see it. Grabbing a telescope, Clyve looked down and saw a man in a bowler hat on the stadium roof, waving a pair of brightly colored semaphore flags. Each positioning of the flags indicated a letter of the alphabet.
“Bram is safe,” the captain said with an ear pressed to the tube, “and reports that the Tracium is in the steemball.”
“What?” Clyve snapped. “Inside that idiotic bronze sphere down there?”
“He adds that it’s hidden in plain sight, that Ricardus made that ball.”
“Is this true?”
The captain shrugged. “I’m no Steemball fan.”
Clyve turned the telescope on the playing field and saw the steemtraps rolling around, searching.
“Could we pick it up?” he asked.
“We might just handle an extra ton, sir,” the captain replied, “but how could we secure such a thing? It’s not like we could just roll it into the gondola.”
Clyve thought this over and then jotted a message onto a slip of paper, handing it to the captain.
“Give that to your communications officer and have him semaphore it, immediately,” Clyve ordered. “Those children are our main priority, but perhaps ground units can double the prize.”
***
“Hurry!” Donell called. “This way!”
He led them at a full run through the cavernous, open area under the stadium toward a steemtrap painted with black and white stripes.
“No,” Will shouted. He worked to keep up, surprised that the man’s short legs could move so fast. “Didn’t you listen? It’s not a carrier!”
“Huh?” Donell cried.
“We have to get the ball!”
Out of breath and wheezing from the sprint, Donell stopped to jerk open the striped trap’s door. Will, Giselle and Cobee came up behind him.
“Have ye gone mad!” Donell said between coughs. “We have tah get tah yer Auntie Klazee’s. This is a spare referee’s trap. Very fast. It’s our best chance!”
“Donell, the Tracium’s in the ball,” Will repeated.
The short man made a face. “Huh? Tha’s craicte!”
“Crazy or not, no one’s realized this until now, when it was announced my grandfather made that steemball.”
“‘Hidden in plain sight!’” Giselle exclaimed.
Donell frowned. “Will, are ye sure?”
“Yes,” Will said, “and so is Bram. They’ll get it if we don’t stop them!”
“Stop them?” Cobee asked, shocked. “All of them?”
“No, we have to get the steemball to Klazee’s and put it through the verltgaat.”
Cobee winced. “Steal the steemball?”
“Yes!”
“From two professional teams? Are you mad?”
“This trap is cold,” Giselle observed. “How long will it take to steam up?”
Donell slapped his head. “Och, she’s right. I dinna think o’ that.”
“There,” Will pointed. “The next teams to compete have rolled in. We take a ball carrier.”
“Och, laddie, there’s no way. We take the fastest one and pray it flies!”
Will grabbed the short man firmly by the shoulders, catching him off-guard.
“Donell, listen to me,” Will said firmly. “My whole life I was trained to see deeper truth and to have goot steem. Enough to get me out of that Raz pit, and enough to beat Bram in a steemsuit.
“Then, you talked me into a plan that I knew nothing about, and that’s the last time, ever. Do what I say, or we lose everything. Do you hear me?”
Donell stared back, awestruck.
“Your plan backfired, Donell,” Will continued. “Bram told me. It’s why they’re coming for us.”
“Backfired?” Donell said, stunned.
A sudden crash back at the main gate made them turn their heads. The lead Rasmussen locomobile had rammed the turnstiles, trying to burst through, but had been stopped. The agents, however, climbed out and ran inside.
“This is my fault?” Donell said, aghast.
“The ball,” Will shouted. “Now or never!”
The short man snapped out of his stupor. “Right.”
At the entrance, a couple of Donell’s people aimed a high-pressure hose, driving back Rasmussens with a powerful stream of water.
“Brave lads!” Donell said, “but they won’t hold long. Go. Find the fastest and best armored carrier ye can, and stoke it tah the max. I’ll get us somethin’ from here and be right behind ye!”
As they headed off, Donell climbed into the striped steemwagon and began searching.
***
The Green Guard, one of New Amsterdam’s oldest and proudest militias, had maintained a competitive Steemball team as long as anyone could remember. They’d just rolled into the staging area under the stadium and left their traps idling on low fires. With so many teams competing, the early elimination rounds used French rules, so victory would go to the first team to haul the ball back to their starting area. That meant the next teams’ boilers had to stay hot, in case the match before them ended quickly, which was a distinct possibility.
The men and women of the team, dressed in protective leather suits dyed green, had just gone through a small doorway to the field to watch the first match. Their traps, some of the most distinctive in the city, were painted emerald green and shaped to resemble fierce animals or mythological creatures.
Since fans weren’t allowed in the staging area, the team captain hadn’t thought to set a guard. No one, in his memory, had ever stolen from or interfered with his traps. Hearing a sudden puff of steam, he turned with shock.
“Verdoor!” he cried. “The dragon!”
***
Moments earlier, Will, Giselle and Cobee had crawled inside the team’s ball-carrier, a large, armored vehicle with heavy wheels and painted with green scales. The crane-like device used to pick up the ball, mounted on front, was shaped to look like a long, spiked neck with a great green dragon’s head. To round out the effect, a pair of whimsical wings had been attached to either side, and a long, knobbed tail hung off the back.
“We’ll never make it,” Cobee said, panicking. “We only train on old clunkers, not high-end traps like this. I have no idea what half these controls do!”
“He said to stoke it,” Will shouted, opening the firebox and shoveling in coal.
“Have you lost your minds?” a familiar voice startled them.
Realizing they’d left the entry hatch open, they saw Jack and Kate staring inside. Also volunteering that morning, the twins had noticed them climbing inside and had come over to investigate.
“No one’s ever stolen a trap during a match,”
Jack warned, “and lived, anyway. Fans all over Beverkenverlt will go berserk and come after you!”
Will looked them over and made a tough decision.
“Jack, Kate,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not who I said I was.”
“I know,” she replied. “You’re Wilhelmus Steemjammer.”
Her brother’s eyes opened wide. “What?”
“It’s true,” Will said, “but call me Will. This is my cousin, Giselle Steemjammer, and Angie-bee’s my sister. Cobee’s also a Steemjammer.”
Proud to have been included, Cobee started to explain that he was only a second cousin without the true name, but Jack cut him off.
“How’d you know?” he asked his sister.
“It was just obvious to me,” she said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”
“I asked her not to,” Will added, “The Raz would’ve killed us.”
“Like they did to my uncle,” Jack said, hurt. “Will, you could have trusted us.”
Will felt bad and had no idea what to say.
“Oh, never mind that,” Jack said, brightening up. “Of course you had to be careful. I want to know what you’re doing messing with the Green Guard, of all people.”
His sister pointed. “Raz agents. Like I told you, they must be trying to escape them.”
“What? You’re stealing the Green Dragon?”
“Borrowing it,” Will said. “You’d better get somewhere safe.”
“Nonsense,” Jack snorted and climbed inside. “We’re going to help!”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“We can’t let you get caught, and besides, if you’re really Wilhelmus Steemjammer, there must be a very good reason you’re doing this. Besides, I’ve always wanted to drive a professional steemtrap.”
As she climbed in, Kate screamed. A hand had grabbed her from behind, and she tore away, darting into the trap. A Raz agent had made it past Donell’s men and had seen them at the trap. Now, he pointed his spike-tipped umbrella menacingly and blocked the door.
“Trapped like rats,” he leered.
Will grabbed a wrench and brandished it, but the man laughed, unafraid.
“A FIN!” roared a voice behind him.
There came a sickening thud. The Raz agent went stiff and collapsed to the floor.
“What’s this?” Donell said, climbing inside. He had a hammer in one hand and a metal box in the other. Then, he saw the twins. “Out!”
Ignoring him, Jack helped Will feed the firebox while Kate sat at a control panel and opened a viewing port.
“Did ye not hear me?” Donell growled.
“No time to argue,” Kate said, peering out. “Raz agents, closing fast.”
“The Green Guard’s seen us!” called Giselle.
“Och! Then, step aside. I found a wee surprise – might give us the edge we need.”
The short man opened the metal box, revealing several cold Incendium ingots sitting on a block of Moderacium.
“Gaaf,” Cobee said. “That’s not allowed!”
“Not for players,” Donell winked, “but referees use it all they want. I nicked it from their trap. We’ll pay them back, o’ course.”
Grabbing a pair of tongs, he pinched an ingot.
“If we survive,” he added grimly.
The Incendium bar blazed cherry-hot as he lifted it off the Moderacium, and he tossed it into the firebox. In moments they were all in, and the boiler groaned and creaked from the rapidly building pressure.
“Quick, now,” Donell said, leaping into the driver’s seat, “and pray she was built tah take this kind o’ heat!”
***
Frog Naaktegboren, who was also doing volunteer work that morning, pushed a heavy cart loaded with tools and supplies. Looking up, his wide mouth opened wider as he saw dozens of men in bowlers and dark coats swarm into the main area under the stadium.
These were armed with swords, axes and crossbows, and they fought against men who blasted them with high pressure water from bronze nozzles. Most were knocked down and pushed back, but several got around the side and chopped the hoses. The men had no choice but to run.
“Hoy!” Frog cried, gripping the handles with fear.
Uninterested in him, the Raz turned as a large green ball-carrier steamed across the floor, right at them.
“Stop that carrier!” their leader screamed but was forced to dive out of its way.
As it rumbled past, the agents bashed and banged futilely at the Green Dragon’s armored sides. A Raz agent in a self-powered steemsuit tromped up and swung a heavy hammer, but he couldn’t even dent it.
“Frog,” Will cried from a hatch in the green carrier. “Those are Raz agents!”
“Get away!” Cobee shouted through a viewport.
Frog wanted to ask why they were stealing the Green Guards’ ball-carrier, and it took a moment for the words “Raz agents” to register in his mind. When it did, he bristled with anger. The Rasmussens had ruined his family’s business, driving his parents into poverty.
“Take that, Raz scum!” he shouted.
He lobbed a heavy pot of machinist’s oil at the man in steem armor’s feet. It broke, and the slippery liquid caused his feet to shoot out from under him. He tumbled to the floor, as did several others.
“Get him!” an agent cried, pointing at Frog.
Several turned and charged.
“No!” their leader barked. “The carrier!”
To Frog’s relief, the agents broke off and, giving the oil slick a wide berth, sprinted after the Green Dragon as it sped for an exit to the playing field.
“What,” a familiar voice said, “was all that?”
Frog turned and saw Sully Spinoza behind him, staring wide-eyed. His little sister came up to join them.
“That,” Frog said, still recovering from his close brush with fate, “is our friend, Cobee, and that new kint, Will, stealing the Green Dragon.”
“What?” Rachel said with disbelief.
“Looks like they’ve done something to steam off the Raz Protectorate.”
“We should help them,” Sully said earnestly.
Frog’s face clouded with worry. “Us? How?”
***
At first, when the Green Dragon rolled out onto the staging area, few in the seating above noticed. Their attention was on the playing field, where the ball had been found in some tall weeds by the orange and blue flagged teams. Destroyers could be heard banging and bashing each other with heavy crushers and rams, creating showers of sparks and sending bits of metal flying. The carriers circled, evading attack and looking for a good moment to dash in and grab the ball.
“What’s this?” a spectator cried, seeing the fanciful green carrier entering the field. “Afzetterr!” Cheater!
Telescopes and binoculars swung. A great noise erupted from the crowd as they realized an unauthorized trap was steaming out into the park. People surged to their feet, even more enthralled, as they saw members of the Green Guard running after it, screaming and cursing.
“Impossible!” gasped an elderly man with a tiny face engulfed by a huge, bristly white beard. “Someone’s stolen the Green Dragon!”
“Look,” a lady cried, pointing at the head referee’s small airship as it made a tight turn and accelerated. “Axworthy will sort this out!”
***
“We should’ve taken the referee’s trap,” Donell groaned, his eyes searching keenly through a viewport as he steered the Green Dragon. “We’d already be out on the streets.”
“Where’s the ball?” Will said, ignoring him.
“Over there,” Cobee replied, peering through a periscope, “where the destroyers are trying to annihilate each other. When one side dominates, their carrier will come in for it.”
“Except we’ll have the steemball!” Jack said enthusiastically.
“Lad, this isn’t a game!” Donell cautioned. “Keep yer eyes on that boiler gauge!”
A thunking sound got their attention. Something
landed on the Green Dragon’s roof, and they turned their faces up anxiously.
“Green ball carrier,” a faint voice called from above.
“What the heck?” Will said.
“Green ball carrier. Return at once!”
“The referee,” Cobee said. “He dropped something on us to get our attention.”
Kate opened a hatch, and they peered out to see Axworthy traveling a few feet above them in his airship.
“Stop the trap,” he shouted angrily through a megaphone, “and surrender! You have no hope of escape.”
“Help us!” Will shouted.
Axworthy blinked. “What?”
“Help us, please!”
“Help you? Don’t be absurd.”
“Sir, this is no longer a game. We’re saving Beverkenverlt!”
That was the last thing Axworthy had expected to hear. He shook his head and then scowled sternly.
“If this is some sort of prank,” he shouted, “you’ve made a grave mistake. Stop now before matters get a hundred times worse for you.”
With trees coming, the small airship had to veer off. Will closed the hatch, and they went under the branches.
“What can he do to us?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Cobee said, “I hope.”
“Ignore him,” Donell growled. “We have far more pressin’ issues up that way.” He nodded toward the center of the park. “What’s our plan? Just roll in between eight dueling destroyers and snatch the steemball? We’ll be pummeled from either side by both teams!”
“And from behind,” Kate added, peering through a periscope to the rear. “Green scouts and destroyers, coming up fast!”
“I wonder if they’re driven by Raz or Guards,” Jack said.
“Pray for Raz,” Cobee said. “They’re worse drivers and won’t be half as angry at us!”
“Bridge!” Donell shouted.
The steady rumbling sound changed as they crossed a stone bridge over a narrow pond, one of the many hazards in the park. To the left and right, a scouting trap from either team stopped. Hatches popped open, and drivers stuck their head out to gawk at the Green Dragon.