Fianna Kelly Versus the Jeebees: A Collection of Steampunk Stories (3 page)

I
pleaded, "But what about us? We have already lost two travel days. If we
don't find a ride soon, we will miss the tournament. We might as well turn
around and go back home."

"Going
back is a bad idea. There is no telling when or where the jeebees will
attack." He turned to the Corporal, "See that the young lady gets
dinner and lodging for the night. I believe we have open rooms where we house
visiting officers."

The
Corporal said, "I really should grab a box of cartridges and get back to
my post. I don't want to leave the Sergeant there by himself for too
long."

The
officer replied, "I will dispatch three men back to your post in case the
jeebees make another try today."

Outside,
Bradan had been circling the building. I knew what the response would be if I
asked what he was doing.

I
asked the Corporal, "Is there someplace where my automaton could get some
water? I suspect he is getting low by now."

He
replied, "There is a water tower at the train station. He looks to be tall
enough to get it directly from the spigot arm."

I
addressed Bradan, "Wonderful! So Bradan, get yourself some water and meet
us... Where will we be?"

"We
will be at the commissary. It is over where the white smoke is."

"So
you will meet us there when you are done?"

YES

The
Corporal said, "There won't be a large selection for dinner, but it
usually tastes okay."

I
said, "To be sure, I live with my parents and siblings and we either have
what himself wants or nothing."

By
the time we were seated, I was the topic of the day. My story had grown like a
fish tale to where I had killed two dozen jeebees, many with my bare hands.
Just when I was about to explain, Bradan walked past the windows where everyone
could see him. Their attention and questions suddenly became all about him. I
sighed and resigned myself to being known as that Irish woman who killed dozens
of jeebees until their interest in him subsided.

Being
a heroine, I was offered anything they had and I tried some of everything. The
Corporal was right. It all tasted good. It was nice to have a hot dinner after
a few days of sandwiches on the road. When I could get a question of my own
into the conversations, I asked where people were going. None of them were
leaving for London anytime soon.

 The
room they provided was wonderful. Along with the expected furniture, it had a
private shower. Women are not supposed to perspire, but I do in a few places. I
worked the soap into a lather and cleansed those areas first. The water was hot
and I let it run down my back as I bent over to remove the dead skin from my
toes and ankles. The rest of my body just needed a good rinsing. My skin had
gone from its usual pale colour to a light pink by the time I finished. I was
glad to wash all the dirt and soot out of my hair and see its natural cinnamon
colour.

Perhaps
my mother had other reasons than vanity for me to wear a bonnet. My hair had
been tangled and in need of brushing. It wouldn't matter to me once I had a
house of my own with a shower in its comfort room. I shall make certain that I
have plenty of hot water as well.

I
don't know if all visiting officers got big fluffy towels when they arrived or
just me. I enjoyed the soft, almost ticklish, feeling as I dried myself. I got
dressed and was standing in front of the duty officer shortly thereafter.

He
said, "Why don't you have some breakfast and I will have your options
available when you return? Trust me that we will do our best to get you to your
tournament."

Breakfast
seemed to take forever. Bradan was pacing outside the commissary, as expected,
and I had a new audience eager to hear about my adventure so far. I don't
remember what I ate or how much. I was thinking about continuing to the
tournament. I had stumbled into a war zone and it appeared the only way out was
to keep moving.

Upon
returning from breakfast, the duty officer was surprised to see me. "Are
you done with breakfast already? I have three wagons headed East this morning
that could accommodate you and your automaton."

"That's
wonderful!" I said. "When does the first one leave?"

 "They
are all leaving at ten o'clock. The Base Commander would like to meet with you
before you leave though."

A
Sergeant escorted me into a two-story brick building, through several hallways
that seemed like a maze in their placement, and into an office. The left wall
of the office was a bookcase sparsely populated with books and knick-knacks.
The right wall had four framed certificates arranged in a square. In between
them was a large wooden desk with papers arranged in orderly piles on it. He
had two wooden chairs on my side of the desk; they looked intentionally
uncomfortable to keep any visitor's time here to a minimum.

The
man on the other side of the desk had the look that shouted "career
military". He had short black hair and a moustache, both trimmed as
exacting as his papers and certificates. Behind him stood a small man with his
arms folded in front of him.

"Please
have a seat. I am Colonel Reynolds and the man behind me is Albert. He is what
we call a soldier-servant. He serves our country by assisting me."

"I
am pleased to meet you both. I am Fianna Kelly," I said as I sat down.

"Have
you heard the expression that an army runs on its stomachs? Well, the modern
army runs on paperwork. I am in the middle of some paperwork here you might be
interested in. This small stack here on my right is the direct result of your
actions."

"I
am sorry to be such a burden to you. I am just trying to get to Wimbledon for
the International Firearms Tournament"

"You
have mistaken my meaning. That single sheet of paper on my left is the roster
of men missing in action this month. I'd much rather have your stacks of papers
than that single sheet. That is why I sent for you today. I want to hear your
story from the moment you got off the boat from Ireland to you showing up in my
office this morning. I fully intend to reduce the names on that roster next
month by figuring out what you did right and what we have been doing
wrong."

"I
don't want to be rude, but we need to be going or we'll be late."

"I
can offer you another option than to travel by wagon."

"Do
you have an airship? My father forbids our family to travel by air."

"No,
but I have a fast locomotive preparing to leave tomorrow morning."

"The
tickets aren't expensive, are they?"

"You
can earn your passage by doing us a simple favour. Now, if you will tell us
about your journey here, we will listen."

The
Colonel listened politely to my story for the next two hours. He only had me
pause once; it was just after I told him about spending the night at the
farmhouse. He whispered something to Albert who ran out of the room for a
minute.

When
I finished, he said, "You have been modest in your telling of your story.
The men stated you were very brave. When the G.B.H.I.s attacked, you fired back
at them without hesitation."

"I
did, to be sure. Is that a bad thing?" I replied.

He
sighed, "If something like that happens again, please fire from behind the
barricade."

"I
have not been schooled in the ways of war. I was just reacting to the
warning."

"On
that note, I have had time to consider what should be done with your metallic
friend. There is nothing else quite like it that we know of. Most automatons
can barely walk, much less think. Is it to be treated as spoils of war and
stored in a warehouse? Should we introduce it to our scientists in the hope
they could make ones who will fight with us? Do we act out of fear and destroy
it lest it turn against us?"

I
said, "Why would you do any of those horrible things? He has done nothing
to warrant such treatment."

Albert
said, "We could say we didn't notice it, except it's so big."

The
Colonel ignored Albert and said to me, "Miss, you are quite correct. I
have chosen to not make any of those decisions. Since it is with you, I have
granted it safe passage as if it had its own passport."

I
didn't know how to reply. This man was nothing like what I had heard British
military officers were like. Either he was an exception or the people who told
me about the British were mistaken.

"As
I was saying about a favour. I believe we are in the position to assist one
another. You need a fast ride to London in order to get there before Saturday.
We have a private locomotive preparing to leave tomorrow morning to transport a
new weapon to London. We could benefit from knowing if there are any G.B.H.I.s
along the route."

"Do
you expect them to attack?"

"No,
I'd just like you to mark any G.B.H.I.s your automaton discovers on a map. If
you agree to this exchange of services, I will make arrangements for your rail-car."

"I
agree, to be sure. That's wonderful!"

The
Colonel smiled at me and said, "Follow me, Miss, and I will show you what
you will be looking after. Have you ever heard of a railway gun?"

I
shook my head.

"It
is a large naval cannon mounted on a flatcar so a locomotive can take it into
land battles."

We
walked a short distance to where a locomotive was idling on the tracks. It
looked of recent construction and had a tender, flatcar, a couple of boxcars,
and a brake van behind it. I noticed something resembling a Gatling gun mounted
on the flatcar, but it was unlike the one I had seen before. Beside it was a
panel with almost a dozen gauges mounted on it. Albert went up to the engine to
talk with the fireman while the Colonel and I continued to the flatcar. Two
soldiers were leaning on it.

"Let
me introduce you to Lieutenant Mills and Lieutenant Reed. They are trained to
operate and maintain the railway gun. This is Fianna Kelly. I'm sure you have
already heard about her."

I
blushed and curtsied. "I am pleased to meet you."

"How
long before you can give a demonstration to our guest?"

Lieutenant
Mills pulled himself up on the flatcar and checked the gauges. "You are in
luck. We are ready now."

Lieutenant
Reed grabbed a wooden target, mounted a horse, and set off at a gallop down the
road while Lieutenant Mills busied himself with an assortment of controls while
glancing at the gauges frequently.

I
thought about men with their toys and how they just can't resist showing off. I
sighed. Perhaps I will do the same if I had a shiny new rifle, but I didn't
think so. It was something that men did, not women.

The
Colonel pondered for a moment and asked me, "Do you know how magnets
attract iron?"

I
was going to tell him that I was not some stupid girl, but instead gave him a
glaring look that was just as good.

He
continued, "Well, what this gun does is put a series of magnets in front
of the bullet to pull it forward at incredible speeds. It doesn't need any
shell casings. The ammunition is all bullet. It doesn't use gunpowder so there
is no chance of a powder magazine explosion during intense firefights. It has
the destructive power of a small cannon with a much higher rate of fire."

We
heard a gunshot from the direction Lieutenant Reed had gone. "That's the
signal," the Colonel stated. He led me over to a telescope on a tripod
that I hadn't noticed before. "Look through here. You will be able to
clearly see the target on that small hill. It is precisely two miles
away."

"Surely,
you can't hit anything that far away with such a small gun. The best I can do
with any accuracy is 700 yards," I replied rather smugly.

"Just
watch and see what happens."

He
motioned to Lieutenant Mills. I heard a sound like a crack of a whip and a
second later the target I was looking at was wooden shavings in the distance.

He
said, "Did I mention it hardly makes any noise? All you hear from the gun
itself is the bullet as it accelerates away."

Colonel
Reynolds was smiling with pride at his weapon as I stood with my mouth slightly
open, stunned. I thought about the prospect of this and asked him, "Could
one of these be made smaller, like the size of my rifle?"

"No,
you see the locomotive is not just to transport it. The engine is specially
fitted to provide the enormous amount of electricity the weapon takes to fire.
Plus, even though the gun looks small, it has the recoil of a cannon."

"I
would guess so."

"I
would like you to visit the gunsmith while you are here. You helped our men
fight the jeebees; we may be able to assist you with your competition."

I
was about to object, but I knew a dismissal when I heard it. I had gotten many
of them in my life. I figured the Colonel had run out of things to tell me.

I
looked at the Colonel. Well not quite at him; more like at his feet. "If I
could request a favour..." I started, "It's not for me, but it kind
of is for me too... Well, it's for Bradan."

"Is
that what you call that huge boiler on legs that walks around in circles
whenever you are out of its sight?" He said with a smile.

"That's
him," I laughed. "I don't think he can ask for himself, but once you
have a skilled engineer... I don't want you to infer that I can't keep him
going... I could follow his directions when I had the books, but we left those
back at the farmhouse... He knows what he needs. Once you have someone here who
actually knows about steam engines... I am sure he would appreciate a good
check if you know what I mean. The jeebees were killing him slowly when I came
along and I'm not sure I got all his parts back in place properly."

"Well,
I could lie to you and say we have the best men who work on steam engines here.
Instead I will tell you that the ones we have on the base are very good and I
personally guarantee that only good things will happen to your metal friend
while in our machine shop."

"You
will tell them to pay attention to the words on his chest. That is how he
communicates."

"I
suggest you voice your concerns when you meet the engineer. I'll have Albert
escort you to him on your way to see the gunsmith."

The
chief engineer was ecstatic to check out Bradan. He walked around him,
inspecting everything closely, while talking about what a marvellous machine it
was. While he had worked on automatons before, he had never worked on a walking
steam engine. He assured me that the principles were the same; boilers,
pistons, and gears.

The
gunsmith's office was just down the hall from the engineer's. A piece of paper
was tacked onto it. It read:

If you
are that woman sharpshooter, I am at the range. If you aren't, I have left on
holiday.

When
Albert and I arrived at the range, I noticed a balding man fiddling with a
small telescope. When we approached, he looked up from his work.

Albert
introduced us. "Fianna, this is David Buckley, our resident gunsmith.
David, this is Fianna Kelly, that woman sharpshooter."

I
thought that was funny, but I just smiled and curtsied. Albert excused himself,
having many errands for the Colonel awaiting him. I looked back at the gunsmith
and wondered what I was doing here.