Fianna Kelly Versus the Jeebees: A Collection of Steampunk Stories

by Harry Dodgson

  Lieutenant Mills had been busy preparing the railway gun. The train had stopped, but the steam engine was running as if we were going at full speed. I also heard a whining sound, almost like when Bevin held the same note while playing. It seemed to get quieter right before he fired a shell and a flying jeebee became a falling jeebee.

  I resumed firing at the jeebees on foot. The least I could do is distract them and make them angle their shields towards me. That way the soldiers on foot had an opening for their guns. The jeebees seemed to have no limit to their numbers. They kept trying to reach the train and we kept shooting them. Bradan had been placing clips behind me as I needed them. I reached behind me for another one and was surprised when none were left. I realised that I had fired the entire case and the only cartridges near me were spent ones.

  "Why do I keep running out of cartridges? How about we run out of jeebees instead?" I asked.

  Lieutenant Mills offered, "You can borrow my pistol and belt."

  He unbuckled the belt with one hand and slid it over to me without breaking his concentration. I didn't have time to tell him I had a pistol too.

  Just as I was bending to pick it up, I noticed a jeebee standing behind us. It had a rifle similar to the ones the others carried, but this had an extension. It looked like one of the fans I carry with me and was opened like a book across the front. I saw blue sparks moving chaotically about the fan. Suddenly, the two soldiers were face down on the rail-car. I looked over at Bradan. He was not moving either.

  Unlike the rest of the jeebees that were colourless, this one had a skin shade of bright green. It also was wearing an olive green robe made of six-sided metal plates. On its head was a matching helmet that only had inch high slits where its mouth and three eyes were. If the others had been adorned like this, it would have been much harder to kill them. The jeebee made a tinkling sound as it moved. It would have been funny if it hadn't just shot the two soldiers and Bradan.

  It said, "Keep loading the weapon, and you will not be harmed."

  "But..."

  I stopped myself in time. That would have been stupid to tell it that I was not the one loading the gun.

  "I will, to be sure."

  Either the jeebee couldn't see my gun in its holster or it did not consider women as a possible threat. I just needed to wait until it was distracted.

  It boasted, "As I expected, you earthlings built and delivered our weapon to us."

  "What?"

  "We left the plans where they could be discovered."

  "What are you going to do with it now that you have it?"

  "First, I will remove those annoying airships from the sky. They are in my way."

  I protested, "You can't do that!"

  My friends will have been on one that arrived yesterday and are likely waiting impatiently for me at the station. Just because the people in those airships were strangers didn't mean I felt nothing for them. I had seen this gun in action and it could knock the airships out of the sky in seconds.

  I wondered what would happen if the jeebee tried to fire the railway gun with one of my spent cartridges loaded. Hopefully the gun would backfire in its face. Since it had three eyes, there was one looking at me all the time. I would have to wait until its attention was elsewhere to drop one into the chute.

  "I can fire as soon as that one gets closer," it said.

  The jeebee was busy adjusting the controls when I had a better idea. I grabbed my pistol, cocked it, and switched to shotgun mode in one fluid move. I swept it out and pointed it at the jeebee.

  I shouted, "Hey!"

  It turned to face me and I fired point-blank into its face. Unlike most of them, its head did not explode. It fell over backwards. I wondered if the helmet was what kept it together. I flipped the lever back to bullet mode before I checked to make sure it was dead. I remembered how bad they smelled up close so I just kicked its feet a few times to see if it moved.

  Feeling confident it was dead, I holstered the pistol and checked on the two soldiers. I found out that they were just stunned. They woke up when I shook them.

  Lieutenant Mills revived shortly after Lieutenant Reed. He said, "I don't feel so good."

  Lieutenant Reed replied, "Be happy that you feel anything."

  I was staring at my feet as I added, "I am sorry about that green one. I should have seen it coming."

  "You did okay." replied Lieutenant Mills, "We just have headaches but I see the jeebee has a big hole through its head. Remind me to never get you upset."

  Next, I checked on Bradan. All I could hear was the hissing sound of steam. I yelled at him, "Wake up Bradan! You cannot sleep in the midst of a war. I need you!" I slapped him. That hurt. I kicked him. That hurt too.

  EMERGENCY RESTART

  I watched for a minute while the letters and numbers spun around spelling nonsense.

  SYSTEMS OKAY

  "'Tis good to see that."

  Lieutenant Mills asked, "What is going on with the jeebees? They are running around like chickens without heads."

  "I am guessing that's what happens to them when their leader is killed," I said.

  "We can't leave them this way. It will be a mercy to kill them."

  I replied, "It looks like the rest of the men have figured that out too."

  We just watched as the men ran out and killed the jeebees with their sabres. It was a strange feeling. I hadn't just killed their leader, but indirectly I had killed all of the ones still standing. I felt sick but managed to get to the edge of the flatcar before my lunch came back up. When they said it took a strong stomach to be a soldier, they weren't kidding.

  Bradan started to go amongst the dead, collecting the jeebees for burial. He was taking one at a time and laying them next to each other. I thought it will take him hours to dig individual graves for them.

  The passengers had left their train cars and were seeing to the wounded soldiers. If not for them, that duty would have been mine. I was not feeling well enough to take care of myself even. I was glad others were here to help out.

  I saw a man, all covered in black, coming our way.

  I said, "Albert! What happened to you?"

  "Miss, I am sorry to say I was not properly braced when the engine stopped. I fell into the tender with the coal. I have been unconscious and might still be if the fireman hadn't found me."

  "I am sure the Colonel will be relieved to see you, even as dishevelled as you are."

  "Yes, I must report to him immediately. Have you seen him?"

  "I haven't seen him since Bradan and I joined the fight. I hope he is okay."

  I closed my eyes and rested for a bit. I might even have passed out. When I opened them, I noticed a reporter and photographer talking to the soldiers and taking their pictures. I was hoping they would ignore me, as I must have looked like an orphan who lived on the streets. I could tell that wasn't going to happen when a soldier pointed at me and pantomimed shooting a rifle. A few minutes later, they approached me.

  The reporter flipped his notepad to a new page. "The soldiers say you are quite a woman. I'd love to get your story for the Times."

  "What are they telling you?"

  "They say you are very courageous. You fired at the jeebees to distract them and make them easier to kill."

  "'Tis true I distracted them. I think I shot some too."

  The photographer asked, "Would you allow me to take your picture?"

  "I am sure that I look a mess. Could you get one after I have had a chance to make myself presentable?"

  The reporter replied, "You look perfect just the way you are. If you didn't look like you had just been through a war, we could hardly say you had, could we?"

  I said, "Okay, what do I need to do?"

  He continued, "First, I would like to hear about you, the automaton, and that remarkable rifle you have."

  I was not feeling like giving them a long story so I settled on just answering his questions. "My name is Fianna Kelly and I am headed to Wimbledon for
the International Firearms Tournament. I call the automaton Bradan and I rescued him from the jeebees who built him. The army was so nice and gave me this wonderful rifle to use at the tournament."

  "What is so special about the rifle?

  "'Tis an experimental version of an Enfield-Martini rifle with a telescope that adjusts for distance. It has so many improvements over the previous versions, I couldn't list them all." I didn't mention that I couldn't list them because I wasn't paying attention.

  Seeing as he was waiting for me to say more, I went on, "I should have arrived yesterday evening, and registered this morning, and competed with my old rifle. But that didn't happen. Instead I have had a four-day adventure just to get here today."

  "So much for your original plans. What are your plans now?"

  "I need to run if I am going to get registered. Then I'll need to go shopping for the custom cartridges this rifle needs as I used all the army provided for me."

  "It sounds to me like it is a miracle that you are here alive. We won't detain you more than a minute to get your picture."

  It was the photographer's turn next. He had been setting up his tripod and trying to get people to move out of the way so only Bradan and I were in the picture. He said, "I was thinking if I could get you standing near the giant automaton with it holding one of those things as if it were a fish that you had caught..."

  He started to compose the picture, having Bradan and I move so we both were in it. He was posing us almost the way I used to arrange my dolls around the table for tea. I was still feeling a bit unsteady so I just did as he requested.

  "Could you push your goggles up higher?" he asked.

  "They won't stay there long," I said.

  "That's okay. I only need them off your face for a minute."

  I slid them up so they rested precariously on my bangs. I had to hold my head still so they wouldn't slide back down.

  He said, "Now if I could get you to smile, just a little."

  I really didn't feel like smiling. I'm not sure what I felt like, but happiness wasn't on the list. The closest would be relieved. I tried for a smile.

  He said, "That was perfect. I have to run to get this developed for the evening edition."

  I replied, "I have to run as well."

  I saw that the Colonel was standing alone, watching me. I ran over to him and gave him a big hug. He returned the hug, lightly, as if he was afraid of breaking me.

  He spoke first. "It is a pleasure to see you are still alive and healthy, Miss Kelly."

  "I am happy to see you as well, Colonel. If I didn't know better, I'd say you just came from your office instead of a battle. You look just as I first met you."

  Thank you, Miss. You do not seem that much worse in spite of today's skirmish."

  "That is nice of you to say, but I feel exhausted and I must look that way too. Have you seen Albert? He was looking for you."

  "Yes, we found each other. I sent him to clean himself up and report in the morning. By the way, how are you handling your instant popularity?"

  "Having my picture in the Times, no matter the reason, will please my family and friends. However, I am still hoping to enter the tournament and return home with the prize money."

  "What are the tournament prizes like?"

  "Just five bob for each round, a few quid for various special events, and a grand prize of 100 quid to the overall champion."

  "I think we can do better than that. Lieutenant Stewart! Front and centre if you please!"

  "How can you do better than 100 quid. It takes years to earn that much in an occupation. It will be a small fortune for me."

  "Do you know how many G.B.H.I.s that you killed?"

  I was feeling insulted and let it show in my tone, "No, I was too busy defending the lives of myself and your soldiers to keep count."

  "Perhaps your automaton has a count."

  "Okay, if you really must know." I addressed Bradan, "Would you please tell us the number of jeebees that I killed?"

  A TOTAL OF THIRTY-TWO

  "Is that all? I fired every rifle cartridge they gave me."

  MANY ONLY WOUNDED

  The Colonel looked past me. "Lieutenant! What is the bounty for 32 G.B.H.I.s?"

  "At 25 pounds each, the total is 800 pounds," he replied without hesitation.

  "Just before we left the base, I received a proclamation that the G.B.H.I.s were to be treated as an enemy of the crown and a reward was being offered for them, as the Americans are so fond of saying 'Dead or Alive'."

  I was stunned. "Don't I need proof of that, some part of them, to claim a bounty?"

  "I can clearly see your automaton burying the proof. Plus, we all know who killed their leader and won the day." He looked back at the Lieutenant. "You should not keep the lady waiting any longer than necessary. She has an appointment to keep."

  "Yes sir, I am writing out the cheque now, sir."

  I stared at them. I had expected to come home with a generous amount of prize money from the tournament, not a sum this large. "Thank you. I seem to be in your debt again." I said.

  "I'd like to think that we do not owe one another, but England is indebted to you and your automaton."

  "How about your soldiers? Will they be receiving bounties?"

  "They will be getting medals, promotions, and other compensations."

  I took the cheque from the Lieutenant and looked at it carefully. "Is this good at the jewellery shoppes?"

  The Lieutenant replied, "I recommend you exchange it for ten pound notes and have your automaton hold onto most of them until you get home. London can be a dangerous city for tourists."

  I laughed and when he realised what he had just said joined me; followed by everyone in earshot.

  • June 10

  I arrived early at the tournaments grounds hoping for a miracle. I had the Enfield-Martini in its case over my shoulder while Bradan carried the other rifle and pistol. There was a tall man with a tall hat standing near the entrance. He looked imposing. It seemed like he had to bend over to look at me.

  "Can I help you?"

  "I am here to compete."

  "May I see your registration card?"

  "I don't have one."

  "Registration was yesterday. You should have been given one of these entry cards then."

  "I missed registration. I was busy fighting a war."

  "We do not accept excuses. We have rules and procedures so that everyone is treated the same."

  A distinguished man came over carrying a dull green metal box. He said, "Mister, do you know who I am?"

  "Yes, sir." The attendant stammered, "Everyone knows you, sir. It is an honour to meet you."

  "Do you think it is right to exclude this young woman because she was understandably late in registering?"

  "I don't make the rules. I just follow them."

  "Can I see that card?"

  "They gave me a blank registration card so that I would know what they look like."

  "So all it needs is her name there and an authorised signature here, correct?"

  He brought out a pen and filled in the indicated spaces, then handed it to me.

  "It looks to me like she has a valid registration card. Does it look that way to you?"

  "Yes... She still needs a green tag that shows her rifle has been inspected."

  "Miss, may I see your rifle for a moment?"

  I presented the Enfield-Martini to him. He opened the breech, looked over the action, and ran his hand along the barrel.

  "I presume you have a blank green tag as well?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "You know what one looks like, so you won't be needing it anymore. Do we agree that her rifle has been inspected?”

  "Yes, sir."

  He affixed the tag onto the rifle and handed it back to me.

  "Now, is everything in order?

  "Yes, I believe it is sir."

  "It is good to see people following the rules."

  "Follow me, Miss Kelly.
We have more rules that need to be followed. Bring your automaton. We can't leave it out here by itself. Someone might find a rule that applies to it."

  "That is very nice of you, but...", I began.

  "This case of rifle cartridges arrived at my residence last night with my copy of the Times. I was quite perplexed until I read the article."

  "I think the papers exaggerated my importance... Sir?"

  He held out the ammunition case. "Can your automaton carry this? It is getting too heavy for me."

  "He can. I tried to find the .402 calibre cartridges last night; and failed. Where did you get them?"

  "Do you know where Enfield is?"

  "I can't say that I do."

  "It is only 25 miles from here."

  "I don't understand."

  "The ones who designed your rifle are among the few who still have ammunition for it."

  "I see now. I don't wish to sound ignorant, but may I ask who you are sir?"

  "I am Arthur Balfour."

  "I am very pleased to meet you, sir. I don't know how to thank you."

  "You managed to make it all the way to the tournament grounds, in spite of a war going on between you and your destination. I don't think a few pig-headed bureaucrats would have been enough to stop you."

  "Honestly, I wouldn't shoot them." We both laughed.

  "There is something I'd like to know. Why is this event so important to you?"

  "I've competed in smaller venues. It didn't matter that I took first place. They've always made excuses: she doesn't have to work and can waste all her time practicing, competing against those amateurs doesn't prove anything, they let her win because she's pretty."

  "What is different here?"

  "Everything! I will be competing against some of the world's best and when I get a prize everyone will know I earned it. No-one will be saying that the famous Mr. Anderson is just an amateur, was too busy to practice, and allowed a woman to take first prize from him."

  "I can understand your point. I also prefer people to think that I rise on my own merits, not the shortcomings of my rivals. We must work quickly to get your name added to the rosters. If you don't object, I would like to personally introduce you to the judges."