Lifemaker: A Steampunk Dystopian Fantasy (The Great Iron War, Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  1 – DESCENT

  2 – THE STRANGEST LIFE

  3 – THE DEVILS OF THE DEEP

  4 – THE COPPER VIXENS

  5 – A GAME OF WITS

  6 – THE GOOD NEWS

  7 – THE MINE FIELD

  8 – FIFTEEN MINUTES

  9 – PROMISE

  10 – TREASURE HUNT

  11 – DELUGE

  12 – DESTITUTE

  13 – ATTACK IN THE ABYSS

  14 – INTERROGATION

  15 – REST AND REPAIRS

  16 – SURVIVAL

  17 – THE FORBIDDEN FLOOR

  18 – THE IRON DOOR

  19 – UNDERWATER TRADE

  20 – THE ART OF SILENCE

  21 – WAR BENEATH THE WAVES

  22 – BOARDING PARTY

  23 – THE FINAL WHISTLE

  24 – DEATHMAKER

  25 – MONSTER

  26 – THE BRIG

  27 – SABOTEUR

  28 – HIGHS AND LOWS

  29 – ASCENT

  LIFEMAKER

  The Great Iron War – Book Two

  Dean F. Wilson

  Copyright © 2015 Dean F. Wilson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Any person who makes any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable for criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  The Moral Rights of the Author have been asserted.

  Cover illustration by Duy Phan

  First Edition 2015

  ISBN 978-1-909356-11-5

  Published by Dioscuri Press

  Dublin, Ireland

  www.dioscuripress.com

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  THE GREAT IRON WAR

  In the world of Altadas, in the year 1888 of the Second Era, women everywhere dreamed of a coming desert. Those who were already pregnant miscarried, and those who became pregnant did not give birth to human children. An invasion had begun.

  The newborns had no horns or marks, and so they were loved and reared like all the others. It would take time before anyone realised what they really were, before anyone would call them demons.

  These events were marked by the arrival of strangers claiming to be from a distant land. The people of Altadas called them Pilgrims, but they did not know just how far they had come, nor by what strange doors they had entered, nor exactly what they had come for.

  The first Pilgrims were scouts, but subsequent waves were soldiers, sent by a man who would later call himself the Iron Emperor. He promised his people iron. He gave them war instead.

  They called that year the Harvest, and it became the first year of a new, darker calendar. Sand swept through the great chasms in the sky from where the demons came, the dust of a world that they had dried up. Ahead of the landships went great sandstorms, until the green grasses became an endless red desert.

  In Altadas, steam powers industry, but iron powers war. The abundant metal, idolised by the invaders, and depleted in their home world, became a beacon to the demons, and was the foundation upon which they would build their new civilisation. They called themselves the Iron Empire. Their enemies simply called them the Regime.

  As war began in the east, few among the Resistance knew that their own children were not really theirs. The invaders had mastered a magical technique to control the birth channels of a people they desired to conquer. Thus with one hand they would wield might, and with the other they would use guile, infiltrating and eradicating their enemies, anyone who would dare defy the Iron Emperor, who had brought his people to this promised land.

  Yet iron is more to the demons than just a metal. When broken down into its basic elements, it provides the key ingredient of the necessary sustenance of the invaders. To some it is a drug. To them, symbolising everything they were promised, and everything they were leaving behind, it is Hope.

  As one civilisation crumbled, and a new empire was founded on its remains, there were some who refused to live out their last days under the iron grip of their new ruler. They made a promise of their own: to fight, with everything they had, for the fate of humanity.

  Thus began the Great Iron War.

  1 – DESCENT

  The submarine’s dive alarm rang out its ear-piercing siren within seconds of the final hatch being shut and sealed. Its repetitive drone made Jacob feel like bailing out, but maybe it had more to do with the fact that it was also the final warning before the ocean became his prison.

  “Clear the bridge,” Rommond ordered. Jacob had already been ushered outside, and he thought it was a personal slight until he found everyone else, the general included, coming out to join him.

  “Nice of you to keep me company,” Jacob said, but Rommond was too preoccupied to take notice.

  A flood of officers moved to and fro in the control room below deck, issuing and receiving orders, pulling levers, turning valves, opening vents, and stopping the engines. “Ballast open,” one of them reported.

  “Is that a good thing?” Jacob asked. He felt a sudden shift in the submarine. He hoped it was not sinking. In a way, it was.

  “Dive,” Rommond called out.

  If there had been anyone left in Dustdelving to witness the Lifemaker’s descent, they would have seen the water swiftly displacing, until the massive silver hull, a thousand feet in length, was nowhere to be seen. There was no one there to watch, however, though in time Rommond was certain that there would be, and his old headquarters would be reduced to flames.

  Jacob held on tightly to a nearby rail. He thought that they were diving too fast, much to Rommond’s amusement. He reassured Jacob that this was a slow descent, that they could drop much quicker, and that when bullets were flying high, it was wise to duck low. Jacob had no problem with ducking, so long as the ground was still below him.

  “So are we not using your cosy bridge then?” Jacob asked.

  “It’s not pressurised,” Rommond replied. “But feel free to go up there if you want.”

  “You know what,” Jacob said, “I’ll stay down here, if it’s all the same.”

  “A wise man.”

  Jacob smiled and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”

  He noticed Taberah resting against the wall near the helm, where she was shown the controls by what looked like a fair-haired and fair-skinned boy. There was not a hint of stubble on him. Jacob thought that maybe Taberah should have been showing the kid the controls instead.

  “Who’s the lad at the helm?” he asked Rommond.

  The nearby crew chuckled and giggled, until Rommond silenced them with a glance. “That,” he said sternly, “is the captain of this fine vessel. Nera Alson. And she is a very good captain at that. Married to the machinery—even more than I.”

  Jacob pouted. He looked back over at the captain, but all he could see was the square jaw, the thick eyebrows, and the tight haircut. Of course, a sailor’s uniform did not help. There was no figure in it.

  “She cuts her hair short to abide by the same rules she demands of her male crew,” Rommond explained. “It isn’t mandatory, and I told her that we’ve had lasses in the trenches who don’t give themselves a butch cut, but she was adamant about it. She even sleeps on a bunk.”


  “And you?” Jacob asked.

  “I have my own room,” Rommond said, “just like you.”

  Jacob smiled. “I bet it’s bigger though.”

  Rommond stared at him. “It’s big enough for your sacred crate of coils.”

  “Barely.”

  “Jacob, with the weight of that crate, we could have gotten rid of one of the ballast tanks.”

  “Happy to help,” Jacob said.

  “We’d have had to jettison it to surface, however.”

  “Glad you kept the tanks then.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable, Jacob. There’s still plenty left to jettison.”

  Jacob got the distinct impression the general was not just talking about objects.

  * * *

  Taberah was a fast learner, but there were a bit too many controls in the submarine for her liking. She could barely rest her back against a panel without hitting a switch or twisting a dial. Still, she preferred to ensure she had even a remote understanding of how things were done. She was not exactly comfortable leaving her fate in the hands of others, even if some of them were old friends.

  “Do you enjoy this?” Taberah asked.

  “Yes,” the captain said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t know. It seems a little lonely.”

  “Sometimes it’s just me and the ship.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” Taberah wondered.

  “No, not really. There’s a lot of life beneath the sea.”

  A moment passed, where Alson only had a conversation with the submarine. She flicked switches and pulled levers, and the ship responded with beeps and flashing lights. Taberah could make out nothing of what it said.

  “I never got to see this when I was in the Resistance,” Taberah said.

  “Rommond likes to keep his cards close to his chest.”

  Taberah smirked. “He sure does.”

  “I’ve been doing test dives for over a year,” Alson revealed. “Before that the sub was dry-docked on concrete blocks. Not a drop of water.”

  “I presume you prefer the water.”

  “It’s why I wanted this job. I live for the sea. I wouldn’t have stayed in Rommond’s bunkers if it weren’t for the promise of seeing the ocean’s depths.”

  “I can’t say I share your enthusiasm.”

  Alson looked up from the controls for a fraction of a second. “This really is the Lifemaker for me. Without it, I might as well be dead. I want to live at sea ... and I want to die at sea.”

  Taberah knew that where they were going, Alson might just get her wish.

  * * *

  Once things had settled down, and the excess people were ordered to clear the command centre, Jacob found his way to Taberah’s room, which was on the deck above his. He was not entirely sure how he got there, as he had wandered up and down many levels, and all the corridors looked pretty much the same. He noticed with some amusement, however, that the higher decks were carpeted, while the lower ones had just bare metal. He wondered if this was a design decision, or if the Lifemaker really was unfinished. The former possibility was discouraging, but the latter one was much more unsettling.

  Jacob knocked lightly on Taberah’s door, and entered before she could tell him to go away. He found her writing in her diary.

  “Writing about me again?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “All good, I hope.”

  “All bad.”

  “At least I get a mention.”

  Taberah returned to her journalling. Jacob wondered what she was really writing. 5:45pm, he mused. That handsome man Jacob has come to visit again. Maybe it was more like: That annoying Jacob has come to bother me again.

  He looked around her quarters as she continued to scribble. It was at least four times the size of his room. Clearly being friends with the general paid dividends in the deeps.

  “You’ve got a nicer room than mine,” he said.

  “You’re lucky you’ve got your own quarters,” Taberah replied. “More than half the crew will be sleeping in bunks.”

  “Maybe Rommond doesn’t want me mixing with his crew.”

  “Something tells me he’ll find you where he shouldn’t anyway.”

  “Female intuition?” Jacob asked.

  “Something like that.”

  Jacob plopped himself down on the single wooden stool and leaned back against the wall.

  “Comfy,” he said.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” she replied with a smile. “This isn’t your room.”

  He smiled back, and they locked eyes. If it was a smiling competition, he was winning. If it was a staring contest, she was in the lead.

  “I can’t say I was very fond of the sea,” Taberah remarked, as she continued to hold his gaze. “Too temperamental.”

  Something you couldn’t control, Jacob thought. He felt his gaze waver.

  “I like the sea,” Jacob said. “I just prefer it below me, not above. Living inside it makes me feel—”

  “Trapped?”

  “You could say that. Every time I look outside those windows and just see water, it feels like I’ve nowhere to run. Even Blackout wasn’t like that.”

  “Maybe we can get you some curtains,” Taberah suggested.

  Jacob chuckled. “As long as they aren’t floral.”

  “Maybe ones with fishes on them then.”

  “Yeah, that’ll help.”

  There was a moment of silence, where Jacob thought he could almost feel a slight dip of the submarine’s nose. He waited to see if the stool would slide across the room. Nothing happened.

  “You know, I’m sorry,” he said at last.

  “I didn’t know,” she replied. “I’m still not sure I do.”

  “I guess for you words are not enough.”

  “It depends who speaks them.”

  Jacob stifled a sigh. “I’m not ready to be a dad,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “You’ve done fine with Whistler,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, he’s not my kid. And he’s a while out of nappies by now.”

  “I’m not looking for a perfect father,” Taberah said. “Whistler’s done without one for all his life.”

  “What happened to his father? Did he die?”

  “Are you trying to change the subject?” she asked.

  “No … are you?”

  “Listen, Jacob. I don’t care if you’re part of this child’s life.” She rubbed her hand across her belly. “We’ll be fine. What I do want is for you to help the Order and the Resistance to further our goals.”

  “I’m here, amn’t I? It’s not like I can help the Regime.”

  “You can by being in our way.”

  “Am I in the way?”

  “That’s your decision, Jacob.”

  “Well, I’d offer to steer this ship, but submersibles aren’t really my thing. Put this tin can on wheels and I’ll drive it across the ocean floor.”

  “You shouldn’t joke,” Taberah said. “Rommond’s done stranger things with his vehicles before.”

  2 – THE STRANGEST LIFE

  Much of the first week of the descent was fairly uneventful. While Jacob was mostly thankful for this, a part of him began to yearn for some excitement. A smaller part did not care about the cost.

  No one would tell him just how far they had dived, probably, he surmised, to save him the shock of realising just how far he would have to swim to escape his metal cage. He also had another more worrying fear: that they did not actually know how deep they were.

  The answer to this riddle did not come from the equipment they had brought. The sounding lines were dropped, but they did not hit the bottom, and did not come up again. Instead the answer came from the wildlife, the fishes and cetaceans that made the various layers of the ocean their home. Like an archaeological dig, the further they went, the stranger the creature, and the easier it was to judge their depth.

  But t
here were parts of the ocean that were not mapped, depths that even Alson had not dived to, and Rommond locked himself in the control room, trying to ensure they did not become the unwitting cartographers of the abyss.

  Jacob spent much of his abundant time, when he was not being a general nuisance, staring out at the weird and wonderful sea creatures, nature’s own freak show, with free admission.

  He found that Whistler was also doing the same from his quarters, and periodically they would frantically call to the other, “Did you see that?” before describing what new water-dwelling wildlife they had seen.

  This cheered up Whistler a lot, mostly because it distracted him from his bandages, which protected him from seeing what kind of freak show, in his own eyes, he had become.

  As Jacob watched life teeming outside the vessel, he began to wonder if one day he might be sitting there with his own child, watching the fishes. Maybe it won’t be so bad, he thought, but it was not a thought he held for long.

  * * *

  It took several days to sort out the duty rosters. The crew were put on three rotating shifts, eight hours apart, which meant three rotating dinner hours. Jacob’s duty, given directly by Rommond, was to stay out of his way, and out of trouble. For a few months’ worth of dinners, Jacob was happy to do nothing.

  When Jacob checked the roster and routine sheets, which were pinned at the entrances and exits of each deck, he noted that he had the night shift, which suited him just fine. He also noticed with some amusement that Rommond, Taberah, and Whistler were also on that shift, probably, he presumed, to keep an eye on him.

  Another glance at the routine sheet showed that dinner time for the night shift was not universal, but also on rotation, with four half-hour slots in total. Jacob presumed this was because the mess hall was tiny, but on his first visit there he was pleasantly surprised. The room, conveniently close to the main crew quarters, had twelve large tables, and benches on either side of them, all bolted to the floor. It was not lavish, but it was bright and colourful, and it could easily make anyone forget that they were trapped beneath the sea.