The Steampunk Detective

by Darrell Pitt

  “…were not expecting this sort of thing to happen,” he was saying.

  “Who are those people?” Jack asked.

  “There were a number of visitors aboard the ship when it was called into battle,” Mr Doyle said. “I think a few of them are rather displeased at the turn of events.”

  The bearded man went over to one of the galley staff preparing tea at the bench.

  “I demand you turn this vessel around immediately,” he said.

  They heard the staff member offer his apologies.

  “Do you know who I am?” the man asked. “I’m Charles Hogan, the third. I earn more in a day than you do in a year.”

  Scarlet pushed past Jack and made her way over to Mr Hogan.

  “I understand you’re complaining,” Scarlet said.

  “I certainly am,” Hogan replied.

  “I’ll have you know there are fighting men and women aboard this ship willing to sacrifice their lives for our country,” she snapped. “And they don’t need complaining old men like you around.”

  “How dare you!” Hogan said, his face turning red.

  “She dares very much,” Mr Doyle said, joining her. “The young lady is correct. We need to stand together, now more than ever.”

  “But I didn’t ask to be in the middle of a battle,” the man protested.

  “Neither did our country,” Mr Doyle said firmly. “And yet we are. May I suggest you –.”

  A enormous boom rang out.

  “What was that?” Hogan asked, looking frightened.

  “I believe we have fired on another vessel,” Mr Doyle said.

  Another series of shots rang out, one after another. Some of the ladies at their tables covered their ears in terror. Mr Doyle took the elderly Charles Hogan by the arm and led him over to them.

  “These ladies need your assistance,” Mr Doyle said. “I suggest you offer them some comfort.”

  Mr Hogan sat down next to them, looking shocked and scared. Still, he took the hands of one of the woman and patted her hand. Mr Doyle and Scarlet returned to Jack and Lucy.

  “I think it’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he said. “I suggest we take a seat.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than a series of thuds from the hull echoed through the vessel. They sat down quickly at another table away from the older group.

  “I imagine the Germans are returning fire,” Mr Doyle said.

  It’s like being in a tomb, Jack thought.

  Once when he was very young he and his parents had gone wandering through an old cemetery. They had happened upon an ancient mausoleum. Someone had broken the lock on the entry door. Out of curiosity, they had walked down the stairs to the crypt below.

  There had really been nothing to see as the coffins were actually sealed behind walls, but while they were down there a storm had started. Lightning had flashed, finding its way down the winding staircase as thunder echoed around the damp chamber.

  That’s what the cannon fire sounded like now.

  The battle continued. It seemed to comprise of a series of bangs as the Joan of Arc fired on the other ship and resounding thud of the other ship’s cannon balls striking the hull. Lucy looked tense. Scarlet clenched her hands tightly. Only Mr Doyle sat up resolutely. He glanced over at Jack.

  “We’ll be fine, my boy,” he said. “I’ve been through much worse in the war.”

  The ship shuddered from side to side as the battle continued. The globes on the gas lights rocked slightly with the sway of the vessel. A glass smashed in the galley. One of the elderly ladies started to weep.

  Suddenly the vessel gave an enormous lurch to one side. One of the elderly ladies fell to the floor. Jack leapt to his feet and hurried over to her as the ship leaned over. He grabbed the ladies arm and helped her back into her seat. Now a number of the women were weeping in terror. Old Mr Hogan’s face had turned pale.

  Jack shot a look back to his companions and a moment later Mr Doyle and the girls had joined the long table where the elderly passengers were seated.

  “There, there,” Scarlet said, taking the hand of one of the older ladies. “Everything will be fine, I’m sure.”

  “It sounds like the ship is falling apart,” an elderly woman with her hair in a bun stammered.

  Mr Doyle clenched his jaw and said confidently, “The Joan of Arc is the pride of the French fleet. A masterpiece of construction.”

  Almost as if to undermine his words, an explosion emanated from below decks and the entire ship shifted to one side. People screamed. Pots and pans flew across the galley and plates smashed to the floor. One of the elderly ladies started to pray. Half the lights went out in the kitchen. Jack felt a sudden surge of terror as he imagined the Joan of Arc being ripped apart and he and the others spilling into the unforgiving night of space.

  Bazookas, he thought, swallowing hard. He looked at Mr Doyle.

  The great detective remained resolute. Even in the gloom, he looked strong and brave.

  Amazing, Jack thought. Good old Mr Doyle.

  A clopping sound rebounded across the floor. Jack spun around to see Major Evans hurrying through the dining room.

  “Excuse me, Major,” Mr Doyle said. “Do you require assistance?”

  “Ah, Doyle,” the major responded. “Good chap. Yes, the main boiler’s exploded and we need every man available.”

  “I’ll come,” Jack responded.

  Mr Doyle shot him a look, but did not object. The Major led them along a corridor and down two flights of stairs. The temperature rose dramatically as they passed through a set of doors on the lower level. Jack immediately felt himself covered in a lather of sweat.

  Another set of doors led them to the main engine room. The heat hit them like a wave. Jack could not breathe for a few moments. Smoke and steam was everywhere. Someone cried out in pain. A few men lay to one side, burned and unable to move.

  Major Evans grabbed a passing engineer.

  “Engineer Dubois,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of volunteers. How can they help?”

  “We need the injured transported to the infirmary,” the French engineer replied. “That’s up on the next level.”

  “You heard the man,” Evans said, turning to Jack and Mr Doyle. “There are stretchers set into the walls.”

  Mr Doyle promptly grabbed a stretcher and lay it next to the nearest man. He instructed Jack to grab the man’s feet while he lifted his shoulders. Jack tried not to look at the man. His face was badly burnt and his breathing laboured.

  They lifted the stretcher simultaneously and carried him from the room and up to the infirmary. The chamber was filled with injured men, crying out and moaning. Mr Doyle asked a doctor where to place the injured man.

  “Wherever you can fit him,” the doctor said and continued working.

  Jack and Mr Doyle carried another half a dozen men up to the infirmary. All the while, they heard the constant thudding of cannon fire as the Joan of Arc trading blows with the enemy. Just as they delivered the last man, the ship gave an almighty heave and klaxon alarms rang throughout the vessel.

  “That doesn’t sound too healthy,” Mr Doyle said.

  General Churchill and a team of officers suddenly came barrelling down the stairs past them. The Englishman quickly introduced Captain Girard and his Commanding Officer DePaul.

  “What’s happening?” Mr Doyle asked.

  “The bridge has just decompressed,” the General explained. “We’re moving to the auxiliary bridge at the bow.”

  Wordlessly, Mr Doyle and Jack joined the group. They found themselves in a small chamber at the front of the vessel in complete darkness. One of the officers activated a lamp and the yellow glow of gaslight filled the chamber. Another officer activated a lever and the wall before them slid across, revealing a view of the stars. They could see the edge of the German vessel. It was listing badly in space, but still firing cannon balls at the Joan of Arc.

  “We can’t take much more of this,” C
ommander DePaul said.

  “Bring her around so we’re firing directly into their aft side,” the Captain ordered.

  DePaul directed the order into a loudspeaker. A moment later he received a reply.

  “The engine room is responding, but she’ll be sluggish,” he said.

  “That will –,” the Captain started.

  Another explosion, the biggest yet, jarred the ship and every man in the room was thrown sideways except the Captain. He hung onto the console. As the men stood up, First Officer DePaul spoke into the speaker again.

  “We just lost half of ‘B’ deck,” he said. “One more hit and we’re done for.”

  “The game’s not over yet,” Captain Girard pointed. “Look!”

  Another ship filled the viewing screen. Jack saw a flag emblazed on the side.

  “It’s one of ours!” Jack cried out. “It’s British!”

  “It’s the Darwin!” General Churchill yelled. “That’ll show those Nazi’s who’s in charge!”

  The steamer Darwin came about and immediately positioned itself between the Joan of Arc and the German vessel. It was impossible to hear what was happening, but Jack assumed a great battle was in progress.

  “Now’s our chance, Captain,” General Churchill said.

  “What are you suggesting, monsieur?” Captain Girard asked.

  “If we dock with the German metrotower now we may still be able to track down the bombs.”

  “My first allegiance is to the safety of this ship,” the Captain said firmly. “Are these weapons so important?”

  “I assure you, Captain, they are.” Winston Churchill pursed his lips. “If the Nazis escape with these weapons and unlock their secrets, they will be able to reproduce them ad infinitum.”

  Captain Girard slowly nodded. “We will do as you say, but I cannot guarantee the outcome.”

  General Churchill nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

  The Captain ordered for the Joan of Arc to approach the German metrotower. As the ship drew close, he ordered a small fighter craft to deploy from the rear of the vessel. Jack saw it chug past silently towards the tower. The Joan of Arc slowed. Men scrambled from the fighter and swarmed over the outside of the tower like ants over a nest.

  Finally a series of flags were displayed from a space suit clad sailor hanging onto the outside of the tower.

  Commander DePaul peered through his binoculars. “That’s our signal, mon capitan. They’ve found an entry point.”

  “Bring us in,” Captain Girard commanded.

  The Joan of Arc slowly slid into position to dock with the German metrotower. Major Evans entered the bridge and announced he had formed a boarding party that would search for the bombs. He gratefully accepted Mr Doyle and Jack’s offer to accompany the group.

  As they made their way to the docking exit, the Major turned to the detective and brought him up to date.

  “It seems all is not well within the German ranks,” he said. “There is enormous outrage at the Nazi’s actions. Much of Germany is pushing towards an uprising.”

  “Will we encounter very much opposition on the station?” Mr Doyle asked.

  “I don’t believe so,” the Major replied. “We need to stay on our guard, but many of the station personnel are surrendering without a fight.”

  They arrived at the docking bay. Mr Harker and Mr Bell turned to them in relief.

  “Thank God you escaped the French tower,” Mr Bell said. “The good Major would not allow us to check on your wellbeing.”

  “We need you gentlemen to defuse the bombs,” the Major said. “We could not endanger you unnecessarily.”

  A team of armed French soldiers went ahead of them as they walked down the corridor. Jack could not help but feel nervous as they entered the station. Similar in design to the French metrotower, the main departure area appeared mostly empty. A single man stood behind a café bar as if ready to serve customers. Two women with a large luggage bag sat on a bench, nervously watching the intruders.

  “This turn of events has caught everyone by surprise,” the Major said. “Up until yesterday, the tower was operating as normal.”

  “Did many leave?” Jack asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” the Major said. “I imagine the lower levels were able to evacuate, but there must still be thousands of people in the building.”

  “They don’t appear to be on this level,” Mr Doyle said as they entered an empty marketplace.

  Mr Bell was fiddling with a square, bronze box with two rabbit ear antennas poking out the top. He shifted it around in a wide arc a few times.

  “I’ve found both the devices,” he said. “They appear to be about two levels below us on separate sides of the station.”

  By this point they had reached the centre of the station where the lifts were situated. Jack tried to read the writing above the lifts, but could not decipher the strange language.

  “We will not use the lifts,” the Major decided. “They could be booby trapped.”

  “Or non–operational,” Mr Harker said. “I notice it feels rather cold up here.”

  Jack realised Mr Harker was correct. It was quite freezing in the station.

  “Probably the steam engines at ground level have stopped operating,” Mr Bell said. “No power, no heat, no elevators.”

  They went down a set of stairs with the soldiers in the lead. The stairs led to passageways leading left and right. They only had one device that could lead them to the atomic weapon, so they went to the right.

  As they rounded a corner they encountered a group of German soldiers leaning against the walls with their guns at their sides. One of the French soldiers challenged them and the men regarded each other warily. Finally a conversation was had in German where the men concluded by shaking hands.

  “The soldiers are not interested in fighting,” one of the French officers named Leroy reported. “They are happy for us to pass.”

  Jack felt some trepidation as they passed the men. He could not help but think it would be wiser to remove their weapons. One of the German soldiers gave him a friendly smile and he nodded in return.

  Mr Harker walked more quickly as they drew closer to the bomb. Finally they reached a room with large windows on both sides. A small enclosed deck led to a small fighter ship at the end. The men hurried and made their way down the deck to the ship. As they entered the ship, two soldiers led the way and the others remained to defend the docking ramp. Jack followed closely behind Mr Bell and the other men.

  The fighter normally had seating for two pilots and a team of eight men in the rear. The seating had been stripped and a long torpedo shaped object sat in the centre.

  “That’s it,” Mr Bell said in a hushed voice. “That’s the bomb.”

  “That’s one of them,” Mr Harker corrected him.

  He knelt down to examine a panel on the side of the device. When he looked up his face had paled.

  “My god,” he said. “They’ve done it.”

  “Done what?” Churchill asked.

  “They’ve armed it,” Harker said. “They’ve set the device to explode. It’s only a matter of minutes before it detonates.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A stunned silence greeted the news. Jack felt his knees go weak. He was glad the group was huddled together so tightly, otherwise he may have fainted completely.

  So this is it, he thought. The short, sharp life of Jack Mason. Here today. Gone tomorrow.

  “You can’t be serious,” Major Evans said.

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Mr Harker said. “We need to find the other bomb and evacuate the station. I’ll try to disarm the device.”

  “So the Germans want to destroy their own tower,” Jack said, trying to understand, “killing their own people at the same time.”

  “The Germans do not,” General Churchill said grimly. “This is the work of those bloody Nazis!”

  Mr Harker looked to Mr Bell. “You take the scanner and find th
e other weapon.”

  Mr Bell nodded. “Are you sure you can disarm this device?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I did some early work in designing this mechanism.”

  The group hurried out with Mr Bell in the lead. A number of the soldiers joined them. Two remained at the entrance to the dock as they made their way across the station.

  “I imagine the Nazis planned to make off with both the weapons in separate steamers,” Mr Bell said. “When we unexpectedly arrived, they decided it better to detonate the weapons rather than let them fall into our hands.”

  As they passed a series of windows they saw a huge battle taking place some miles from the tower. A number of German steamers were involved, but a greater number of allied vessels were trading shots with the enemy. Jack identified a number of French and Swiss vessels. There was one flag he did not recognise.

  “Those are the Austrian ships,” Mr Doyle explained.

  “Weren’t they on the side of the Germans during the war?” Jack asked.

  “True,” Mr Doyle replied. “I think this shows the depth of the divide between the actions of the Nazis and their former allies. I imagine Germany will be in a state of civil war by the end of the week.”

  They continued along a corridor with the soldiers leading. Major Evans led the group with Mr Bell, Mr Doyle, Jack and General Churchill behind them. They turned another corner and marched down a long walkway. As they passed another passage, they saw another group of soldiers. These were clad differently than the men guarding the first fighter ship. The men immediately lifted their weapons.

  Major Evans yelled something in German, but one of them fired at him. The major threw himself sideways as the others scattered left and right of the entry to the corridor. The soldiers started firing at the Nazis. General Churchill and Mr Doyle drew weapons and joined in the attack.

  Jack felt Mr Bell grab his shoulder and drag him away from the action.

  “This is no place for either of us,” Mr Bell said.

  “But I –.”

  “Do not move,” the man commanded.

  Jack fumed silently.

  I don’t want to be treated like a child, he thought. He might only be a boy, but he had already been though so much he deserved to be part of the fight.