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

  “Hell,” Jacob said when he entered the mess hall. He stopped near the door to take in the scene. Others with greater hunger squeezed by.

  “Don’t let Karlsif hear you call it that,” Rommond said as he entered the room with Alson, who looked like she had not had a meal all day.

  “How big is this rust bucket?” Jacob asked.

  “Grab a tray and I’ll tell you,” Rommond said, before loading up his own.

  “General,” the cook said, giving him a nod. He was known as Karlsif, though no one really knew if that was his first or last name. He made the finest dinner, and prided himself on getting up during each of the submarine’s three shifts to make it, leaving breakfast and supper to his assistants. He had a cheerful, rose-tinted face, a balding crown, and an unsteady hand, which resulted in numerous broken plates and other incidents.

  Jacob took a bit of everything on offer, and made sure to ladle on plenty of gravy, a luxury he had not had in many years. When he tucked in, it was even more delicious than it looked. He might have tipped the waiter, had he not waited on himself.

  “To answer your question,” Rommond said, after pushing up his sleeves to avoid them being soiled, “this sub is almost a thousand feet long and two hundred wide. It has five decks, and an ironworks beneath the bottom deck, where we store and work on our other vehicles. It has everything a crew needs, because it was designed with one purpose in mind: to safely house a civilisation beneath the sea, in the event that the Regime conquered land.”

  “It doesn’t have everything,” Jacob grumbled. “It doesn’t have fresh air.”

  “We have enough of that stored in tanks,” Rommond said. “For a while.”

  “Until the Regime stops hunting us,” Alson added.

  Jacob spoke as he munched. “Let’s hope they’re not as dogged as you lot.”

  Karlsif hobbled over with a small basket of bread rolls. “Straight from the oven, General.”

  “Thank you,” Rommond said. “Is everything going smoothly?”

  Karlsif cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “It’ll be better when I find out who’s been stealing food from the pantry.”

  “It’s the salt sea air,” Jacob ventured.

  “Is that a confession?” Rommond quizzed.

  “It’s a theory.”

  “Well, if you and your detective nose find out anything,” Karlsif said, “be sure to let me know.”

  “And me,” the general added. “Or we’ll need to put the entire crew on rations.”

  “Does that include you?” Jacob asked.

  “Of course. I’ve survived on worse. But I get a little cranky on rations. So it’s better that we find the glutton before then.”

  Karlsif returned to his duties, glancing now and then across the room, as if he might spot the pantry thief at any moment.

  “Now, there’s a man who doesn’t like the sea,” Rommond said, pointing his fork towards the cook. “He’s always had a nervous disposition, but he never had the shakes until we boarded this ship.”

  “You know, the deeper we go,” Jacob said, “the more I might join him.”

  * * *

  On the sixth day of their journey, the Lifemaker entered an area of the sea where a large sunken city sprawled before and around them.

  “Attention all crew and guests of this vessel,” Rommond announced over the intercom, “we are passing through the old world now, the old time. Take a moment, please, to remember it, to acknowledge it, to honour it, and to see it in your minds as an example of the very thing we are striving for.”

  All eyes were fixed on the surroundings, and the Lifemaker drifted slowly through the ruins.

  They passed buildings of all sizes, pillars and arches, and even a monumental statue, damaged more by the invasion of the Regime than by the years of erosion.

  “This was the old city of Goldwall,” Rommond continued. “Back when gold was more valuable than iron. It was an island city, which only faced threats from pirates, against whom they were well fortified. When the demons came, the people of Goldwall, my people, held them off for weeks, while I fought Domas and his army in the trenches. But our world was exposed to the husk of theirs, and the sands came, and the winds came, until all those beautiful lakes and green pastures were covered or blown south, burying this city in this world’s last great sea.”

  The vessel glided through the remnants, which were vaster than Blackout was. That the once largest city of mankind had become its largest graveyard played heavy on all minds. The chapel of that graveyard, a colossal domed building with many arches, came into view.

  “We pass now the dome of the Alda Kalta,” the general-turned-tour guide said. “It was once the greatest museum of our world, housing many works of art. It survived the Regime, but it did not survive the flood. Now it still serves its old purpose, for inside those arched walls are many caches of statues and paintings, sealed tight against the eroding waters. That they survive, when so much of our culture did not, gives me hope. That they are locked away by necessity, unable to be seen by our people, makes me angry. These two things I hope you will bring with you, and let them empower you in our fight against the Regime. All of you, all of us, are united aboard the Lifemaker. But around us, in this city that I once called home, there are little lifemakers everywhere.”

  * * *

  On the eighth day of the voyage, Jacob walked in on a meeting between Rommond and some of the senior officers. Taberah and Soasa were also there, and everyone looked at Jacob as he entered.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  Rommond glowered at him. “You weren’t invited.”

  “I think my invitation is still in the mail.”

  Taberah looked at Rommond and rolled her eyes. The general turned back to Alson and continued his report.

  “We have thirty-four Pure on board,” he said, “and they are as precious a cargo to us as anything else we have. I apologise, of course, for speaking of them as a commodity, but the reality is that they are more valuable than anything else we have—even our own lives.

  “We made this vessel as a refuge for them, a haven from the Regime, but it has become our own refuge too. Yet we must do everything we can to ensure they survive, for the fate of the human race is in their hands.”

  “You mean in their loins,” Jacob corrected.

  “The Regime has submersibles of their own,” Rommond continued, raising his voice just a little, “but they can only dive so deep. This gives us a distinct advantage, for if we stay down low, we can avoid detection, and in time they will stop looking for us.”

  “Our little fireworks display at the Hope factory might motivate them for a bit,” Taberah said, and her pride was palpable.

  Rommond nodded solemnly. “Thankfully, we built the Lifemaker to last.”

  * * *

  The general led the group down to one of the lower decks, where the Pure were gathered. There were no bunks there, but the beds were crammed together. Small children were running around, and babies were crying. Many of the women were near labour, while others looked as though they were not pregnant at all.

  Rommond introduced the various people, paying special attention to one of them, a rather thin woman of maybe twenty years, with just the hint of a bump. He brought Taberah to her, as if he thought that she could help.

  “This is Marya,” he said. He gave Taberah a stern look, as if they had discussed the young expectant mother before, and he expected Taberah to live up to some obligation she had made.

  Jacob glanced at Taberah, who seemed more than a little uncomfortable in that room. It did not suit her, but then he thought motherhood did not suit her either. She always looked like she just did not have the time. The cause consumed her. Maybe, in time, it would consume him too.

  * * *

  As Taberah spoke with Marya about her pregnancy, never telling her, Jacob noted, about her own, Jacob had a word with the general.

  “So, what’s with her?” he asked, nodding towards Marya
, who was looking everywhere bar at Taberah, and fidgeting excessively, and rattling off a series of ehs and uhms, as if they were punctuation.

  “Some don’t take to the idea of motherhood all that well,” Rommond said. He paused and looked at Jacob. “Or fatherhood.”

  Jacob smirked. “I suppose I walked into that one.”

  They watched Taberah and Marya for another few minutes, noticing their awkward conversation. It seemed that Marya wanted to talk, but could not, whereas Taberah looked more than capable, but much less willing.

  “Marya tried to take her life twice,” Rommond stated, as if it were like getting out of bed. Perhaps to him, who had taken so many lives, it was.

  “That’s grim,” Jacob said after a pause. “And you talked her out of it?”

  “Not me, but others did, eventually.”

  “Not to sound selfish or anything,” Jacob said, “but is it wise bringing someone who’s suicidal on board? I mean, what if she tries to sink the ship?”

  Rommond chuckled. “Now, now, have a little faith. It would take someone very cunning to send the Lifemaker down.”

  “So … that rules out the Resistance then?”

  Rommond laughed more heartily. “It rules out you.”

  “Not to change the subject,” Jacob said, “but how long can this thing last down here?”

  Rommond smiled. “You mean, how long can we last?”

  “Well, that’s a different question.”

  “If well-stocked, this thing can stay submerged for six months.”

  “Hell,” Jacob blurted.

  “At our depths, dear chap, we’ll be close enough.”

  “I’m just glad it isn’t nine months.”

  “I take it you don’t want to be trapped here when the baby is born.”

  Jacob looked again at Taberah. “More like I don’t want my kid to be born in this rickety tin can.”

  “As it stands, Jacob, this tin can might be the safest place to give birth.”

  Jacob surveyed the Pure, the fate of humanity crammed together like sardines. “Or the only place,” he said.

  3 – THE DEVILS OF THE DEEP

  On the ninth day of their journey, the sea stopped being calm.

  Jacob sat with his face against the glass of the small window in his cabin, steaming it up with his breath. He had not seen anything for over an hour but weeds and silt.

  “Still nothing,” he heard Whistler call from the other room. They had made a chart of all the creatures they had spotted so far, which Whistler wanted to present to the captain. There were many empty spaces, and Jacob hoped to see anything to help him pass the time.

  Suddenly something lashed at the window, and Jacob cried out and flinched. Then it was gone, and Jacob could barely control his racing heart and fleeting breath. He pressed his face against the pane and tried to peer to either side, to see if something was clinging to the hull. There was nothing there but the flora of the sea.

  He heard another crash, but further off. Whistler raced in, his eyes wide with wonder and terror. “I saw something,” he stammered.

  “So did I.”

  Ten minutes passed, and while their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal, their eyes remained alert. Whistler would not return to his room now. He insisted that he would get a better view from Jacob’s window, and an even better one from behind Jacob’s shoulder.

  “It was like,” Whistler began, clutching Jacob’s arm. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a proper look.”

  Jacob turned and shushed him. He heard a series of raps against the hull. They were distant, but something told him that they were not the only witnesses of this fleeting ocean beast. He got up quickly and headed into the corridors.

  “Wait for me!” Whistler cried, and ran after him.

  They knocked on cabin doors, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything. Most had not, but a few thought something had grazed the ship. None of them seemed worried. They said that it was a common occurrence, and would become more common the further down they went.

  For Jacob, however, it was just the excitement he needed. He wanted to know exactly what it was, and what it could do to the submarine. Whistler did not seem as keen on adding this particular creature to his chart.

  They encountered Soasa in the corridors. She looked as though she had just seen something too, and might have been heading for her box of dynamite.

  “Not another corridor dance,” Soasa grumbled. “Go back the way you came.”

  “But I think it went that way, towards the stern.”

  “You saw it?” Soasa asked.

  “Just a glance,” Jacob said. “I want to know what it is.”

  Suddenly the submarine shook violently, turning slightly on its side. Anyone in the corridors fell against the walls, while anyone in the rooms fell against the windows or doors.

  “Come on!” Jacob called, and he raced towards the back of the ship, with Whistler and Soasa following swiftly behind him. They no longer knocked on doors, but made straight for the stern, where a much larger window would give them a greater view of whatever was out there.

  They arrived, and the window was bigger than Jacob expected. It was reinforced with metal, which made it look a little like a spider’s web. Something tells me this is too big a fly.

  “I don’t see anything,” Whistler said as he hung back near the corridor. He tapped his heel up and down, as if her was preparing for a race—or preparing to flee.

  Suddenly something came straight for the glass. A giant whale struck against the hull, lashing it with its tail. It turned full circle and charged again, ramming the ship and rocking the crew inside. Then another joined it, and the two crashed into the submarine like torpedoes. Jacob thought that the glass might crack or break, but it held. The question was: for how long?

  “They’re going to wreck the ship,” Soasa said.

  “Maybe you can blow them up,” Jacob suggested.

  “Sure,” Soasa replied. “Because fuses light real well under water.”

  “Yours lights just fine.”

  “Maybe we should tell Rommond,” Whistler said. He was already several steps into the corridor, bracing himself against the walls.

  Jacob smiled. “I have a feeling he already knows.”

  * * *

  When Jacob and the others hurried into the control room, they found that everyone was in a fluster. What few officers were not glued to their seats were thrown to the floor every time they tried to race from station to station.

  “Get him out of here,” Rommond said when he spotted the smuggler. “We’re busy enough as it is.”

  “Just reporting for harpoon duty,” Jacob said.

  Rommond dismissed him with the wave of his hand, before returning his focus to the control panels on either side of Alson. He and Taberah ran from side to side, adjusting switches, releasing pressure from the valves, and filling one of the tanks with water. The nose of the submarine began to dip. Jacob clutched a set of pipes, hoping for dear life that they would not come loose.

  Then the ship rocked again, and they felt as though they were being lifted up.

  “There must be one beneath us,” Alson said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rommond replied. “We need to dive.”

  He pulled the rope that sounded the dive alarm. A little late, Jacob thought, as the submarine dipped again, and he clutched the pipes more tightly. He saw Soasa and Whistler grabbing the door frame.

  “We’re going down too steep, too fast,” Alson said. Her boots were firmly pressed against the panel in front of her. It was lucky her seat was bolted to the floor.

  Several more whales bashed against the hull, knocking it from side to side, as if it were on a rocky sea. To the whales, those movements were tiny. To everyone inside the Lifemaker, they were like earthquakes.

  “We’re not going fast enough,” Rommond said, before opening another valve. The ship sank even further, head first, and the propeller kicked into overdrive. The only w
ay to dive, Jacob thought.

  As they clung to anything they could, and as the submarine descended into darker waters at incredible speeds, Alson flicked on the searchlights at the front of the vessel. The sea lit up ahead of them, and from the control room window they could see angry whales skimming back and forth.

  “Maybe this will scare them off,” she said.

  For some it did, but for others the lights only made them angrier, and while they avoided the glare, they rammed the back of the submarine, dinting the hull. The light also revealed something else: dozens of smaller whales, flitting about the waters in a frenzy.

  “This must be their nursing ground,” Alson noted. “No wonder they’re angry.”

  “They think we’re invaders,” Rommond pointed out.

  “In a way, we are,” Jacob said.

  “How do we make them see that we mean them no harm?” Taberah asked.

  “We can’t exactly send a message in a bottle,” Jacob said.

  “We get out of their territory as quickly as possible,” Rommond said.

  They continued to dive, and the whales continued to strike the submarine, though their attacks became less frequent, until finally they did not come at all. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour, and then Rommond and Alson straightened up the ship and decreased the speed.

  “There,” Rommond said. “We’re at a lower depth. We shouldn’t see any more of them.”

  “Maybe not,” Jacob remarked, “but what if we see something worse?”

  4 – THE COPPER VIXENS

  Jacob walked Taberah back to her quarters after the incident with the whales, which she initially protested about.

  “I don’t need a chaperone,” she told him.

  Jacob grinned. “Maybe I do.”