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

by Dean F. Wilson

  “It looks like they cover a vast territory.”

  “Find a way,” Rommond ordered.

  Alson and Taberah began to immediately map the mines, though they bobbed up and down a little, and some drifted slightly, possibly from the shifting waters that the Lifemaker had caused when it was in motion. Hours passed, and Alson guided the submarine along the edge of the underwater minefield, while Taberah carefully noted down everything they found.

  In time, they reported their findings to Rommond.

  “We can’t go around,” Taberah said, “but we can go through.”

  Jacob thought it was just like her to suggest swimming through a minefield.

  “How?” Rommond asked.

  “There are small gaps between the mines, and we’ve plotted a course for a hundred leagues. We may need to nudge one or two mines out of the way, but otherwise it should all be down to dexterity.”

  “Well, Alson is the most dexterous captain I know,” Rommond said. “What about diving or rising? Can we avoid the mines altogether?”

  “It doesn’t look like it,” Alson said. “It seems that the Regime weighted mines differently so that they would ward off intruders at any level of the sea. Of course, we can try searching deeper, but there are some depths I haven’t been before, so those are untested waters, so to speak.”

  “Exploration can wait,” Rommond said. “I’d rather not take too many risks with the Pure on board.”

  “Why don’t we just sit here on this side of the mines?” Jacob asked. “Do we really have to move at all?”

  “It’s unwise to stay in the same place for too long,” Rommond explained. “There is a greater chance of getting caught.”

  “And there’s an even greater chance of us getting blown up if we skip through a minefield.”

  “We are going east,” Rommond stated.

  “Why?”

  “Because we have an important rendezvous point on the other side, and the alternative is to meet on the surface, where if the Regime doesn’t find us, pirates will.”

  “But why do we need to meet anyone at all?”

  “There are a few bits and bobs we need for the war effort.”

  “You mean, for your new toys?”

  Rommond stared coolly at Jacob. “When we field them, Jacob, the Regime won’t see them like that at all.”

  * * *

  The Lifemaker drifted slowly through the maze of mines. Though Rommond wanted to spare the energy reserves, they kept every light on full, shining in almost every direction, and always illuminating a dangerously close mine. Though there were six large air tanks on board, some of it was spared by their unnerving journey. The voyage would take one hundred leagues, and that was a long time to hold one’s breath.

  Taberah was appointed as the new sonar officer, because, in Rommond's words, she was “a good listener.” She marked their journey on her map, periodically pointing out larger mines she had circled on the page earlier during their scouting mission. The submarine grazed one or two of these, and almost everyone, even Alson, closed their eyes at that moment before the expected explosion. But it did not come yet; the threat jumped from mine to mine, mocking them. The further they advanced without issue, the more they grew to fear that the stakes were higher. In a sea of a thousand mines, the crew of the Lifemaker had to be lucky a thousand times, but in that same sea, the Regime only had to be lucky once.

  They travelled fifty leagues without issue, but now they were faced with a hurdle. Perhaps it was a mistake in Taberah’s documenting, or perhaps it was the shifting waters, but a line of mines blocked the next part of their journey, and there did not appear to be any way around. The Lifemaker ground to a halt once more.

  “So we go back?” Jacob wondered.

  “No,” Taberah said, as if this was a matter of pride. “Let’s push on.”

  Rommond looked grave. “Tabs, mines aren’t exactly things we want to push at all.”

  “I said we’d probably have to nudge one or two out of the way, so let’s do that,” Taberah proposed. “You’ve got a few small submersibles, right?”

  Rommond shook his head. “I won’t allow it.”

  “You’ll have to tie me to the mast to stop me,” she said.

  Rommond looked as though he were contemplating it, but Jacob thought that even if he did, she would just chew through the ropes.

  * * *

  They gathered in the submersible pod bay, where they were greeted with tiny one-man crafts, globular in shape, powered by pedals and propellers, and looking decidedly ancient in comparison to the Lifemaker.

  “These are powered by your own arms and legs,” Rommond said. “There is no steam, no electricity, no diesel. You’ll have a single oil lamp inside for light, and otherwise you’ll need to rely on the beams from the Lifemaker. There’s only enough oxygen for fifteen minutes. I have to emphasise this, Tabs, because I’m not sure you fully acknowledge the risk: if you get a cramp, if you can no longer pedal, if you run out of your own steam, you won’t be able to make it back to us, and you’ll die out there.”

  “I know the risks,” Taberah said.

  Whistler looked up at Rommond, who looked back down at him with equally worried eyes. “Perhaps if we wait a few days we can rig something up so the submersibles can power themselves,” the general said.

  “We can’t afford to wait,” Taberah replied. “What if the mines drift towards us? They’re all around us now. We push on, and push through, or we perish.”

  “You’re pregnant, Tabs,” Rommond said, as if she needed reminding. “You’re not just risking your life. You’re risking the baby’s. We can’t afford to take those risks. Humanity can’t.”

  “You have a saying, Rommond,” she rejoined. “You know my mind on this.”

  And it seemed in Rommond’s resigned expression that he did indeed know her mind, and that they had had these kinds of disagreements in the past, and she had done what she wanted anyway, even in direct defiance of Rommond’s orders. The general looked to Jacob, as if he thought that he might have better luck with her.

  “I’ll go with you,” Jacob volunteered. It probably was not what the general had in mind.

  “There’s only room enough in each submersible for one,” she replied.

  “But there’s more than one of them.”

  “The more of you out there,” Rommond said, “the more chance we’ll trigger an explosion.” Jacob wondered if the general would rather he go instead of Taberah. In fact, he was certain of it.

  “Yes, and the less of us out there,” Jacob replied, “the more chance we won’t get those mines out of the way at all.”

  “So be it,” the general acknowledged. “But let me warn you again, in case your ghost ever tries to condemn me: you will have fifteen minutes out there total—not fifteen to do the job, but fifteen to do the job and get back. After that, you will only have as long as you can hold your breath.”

  8 – FIFTEEN MINUTES

  Jacob immediately regretted volunteering as soon as he jammed himself inside one of the submersibles. It was so tiny it made his quarters look and feel like a palace. Within minutes his legs already felt a hint of a cramp, which was not reassuring, given how much he would come to rely on them to pedal that ball of metal and glass.

  Perhaps Taberah was also complaining in her submersible, but it did not seem like it. Jacob presumed she had used these contraptions before.

  “You know how to steer it?” Rommond asked Jacob.

  “It looks simple enough. Basically a bicycle in a ball.”

  “With a propeller,” Rommond added. “Many thousand leagues beneath the sea.”

  “Yeah, I forgot about the sea part.”

  “Don’t,” Rommond cautioned.

  “Don’t worry. Something tells me it’ll stick in my mind.”

  He was shown how to use the two mechanical arms on the front of the vessel, which were powered by levers on either side of those that steered the craft. It was such a tight fit tha
t the levers were very close to one another, making it very easy to pull the wrong one. So much for the Resistance’s fabled engineering, he thought. He patted his legs. It’s all about muscle and stamina now.

  “Should this lamp be burning now?” Jacob asked. The oil-lamp had already been lit for several minutes, and it dangled above the dashboard, faintly illuminating the meagre controls. There was no room for a spare lamp, or spare fuel. There was barely enough space for the one, and for Jacob’s head, which banged against the lamp from time to time. Jacob could not help but think of the submersible as being like a coffin. He hoped it would not end up being true.

  “Don’t worry,” Rommond said. “You’ll run out of air before that light goes out.”

  With those final words, the door was closed and sealed air-tight. Though this was reassuring, to save Jacob being killed by the immense pressure, or by drowning, it also started the clock ticking away on the air supply, counting down to his untimely death. He glanced once at the chronometer on the ever so close dashboard, before feeling a sudden jerk as the submersible was pushed into a tube, which was then sealed off on the inside. Another door on the outside of the tube opened, flooding it with water, which buoyed the submersible and brought it into the black sea.

  Then Jacob began pedalling, and the propeller set in motion. The submersible glided out of the tube and into the great emptiness of the ocean, which was not empty at all, but filled with many bobbing bombs, which Jacob and Taberah pedalled towards, instead of away from. Jacob decided to pedal at an even pace, to save his strength, but part of him felt like giving it his all, knowing that his all might end in several minutes’ time.

  The gloom around him made him appreciate more the glimmer of his oil lamp.

  “Hell, this is dark,” he said. He liked the darkness, but this was oppressing. It almost flooded his being. He was afraid that even when he returned to the light—or if he returned to the light—he would still feel that darkness in his soul.

  He caught sight of Taberah’s submersible leaving another tube, illuminated by one of the Lifemaker’s blinding lights.

  “The Lightmaker,” Jacob quipped. He was not sure who he was talking to.

  Taberah led the way to the mines in front of the submarine. They were further away than Jacob thought, and the Lifemaker’s immense size was better appreciated when he had to pedal half its length to get to the front of it. He was already panting. It was a frightening feeling, because not only was he tired, but he thought the pants might be consuming more of that precious, and dwindling, supply of oxygen.

  They reached the mines, which were slightly larger than the submersibles were, yet they looked monstrously large compared to how they looked from the Lifemaker. Taberah was already using the mechanical arms to stretch forth and gentle nudge one of the mines to the side.

  Jacob glanced at the chronometer. Almost six minutes had passed, and only one of the mines was out of the way. To the Resistance, Jacob was a newfound ally; Time was not.

  He fiddled with the levers that controlled the mechanical arms of his craft. They sprang into action, and their sudden, jerky movements made Jacob afraid that they might suddenly clatter off a mine, and so be the end of them, and him.

  He heard the metal fingers scratching off the metal of the mine. Each scrape almost sounded like the countdown of a bomb. Five. The mine was not budging. Four. He had to pedal a little more, to push it forward. Three. He had to be careful he did not pedal too much. Two. He had to let it drift away a little of its own accord. One. He had to hope it did not collide with another mine behind it.

  Zero. There was no explosion. He was still alive. But a different counter was ticking away. Only eight minutes of oxygen remained.

  Taberah had already cleared two of the mines by the time Jacob was starting on his second. He saw her whizzing over to a third. It was just those last two to go. And then get back. Perhaps the mines were not the trouble. It was getting back in time.

  But this second mine seemed heavier than the first, or maybe Jacob was just more tired. He pushed the mechanical hands against it, but it would not budge. He was afraid to apply too much force, in case it would trigger an explosion. He withdrew slightly and pushed against it once more, but it drifted only a little, and at this position it could still tear a hole in the Lifemaker. He retreated again, and pedalled more fiercely, but still the mine was stubborn.

  The sweat rolled down Jacob’s forehead. It made an ocean on his palms. The chronometer showed just five and a half minutes remaining. Time was the greatest pressure beneath the sea.

  Then Taberah’s submersible appeared beside him, and she nudged the mine with him, and it moved a little more. They withdrew and tried again, and they cleared it out of the way of the Lifemaker.

  The job was done. But their struggle was not over yet.

  They turned their crafts around, and the turning felt like the slow revolution of a globe. It seemed like it took every minute they had remaining. Jacob glanced at the counter once more. Three minutes and twenty seconds.

  He began to pedal frantically, and he saw that Taberah was lagging behind. He slowed down for her, as if that would help, and she waved her hand to him, as if to tell him to keep going, with or without her. He felt torn, but the chronometer bade him swear allegiance, and his feet struck the pedals as if his life depended on it. It did.

  Two minutes. He could no longer see Taberah. He thought for a moment he could go back and push her, but he knew he did not have enough time, or enough energy. His legs began to ache. His hands clung to the steering sticks, as if the tighter his clutch, the faster his speed.

  Then the light dimmed above him, and he glanced up to see the withering flame. Hell, he thought, as if the flame was disappearing to join its relatives in that damned place. He remembered, and cursed, Rommond’s words: You’ll run out of air before that light goes out. Part of him wanted to get back just to tell the general he was wrong, but another part reminded him that he was already short of breath.

  He put every ounce of his energy, every pound of strength, into working the pedals. The aches in his legs grew, and the light dimmed. He did not think he could go any faster, but he pedalled as if Death were advancing behind him.

  Yet the faster he went, the more the light flickered, until, at that last glance, it seemed that Death had arrived to snuff it out.

  “No, no, no,” Jacob pleaded.

  But the light went out.

  “Damn!” he said in the darkness—to the darkness.

  He no longer knew exactly where to go, for the submarine’s lights did not illuminate the hatch leading back inside. It was all a guess, and it was a guessing game that afforded very little time, but the very big prize of life, or the consolation of death.

  He could not tell, but it must have been less than a minute to go. He had paid more attention to the dwindling flame, not the dwindling seconds.

  Suddenly he caught a glimmer of a light to his side. He was not certain, but he presumed it was Taberah. He hoped it was not that fabled light that those near to death spoke of. Either way, he turned the vessel towards it and began to pedal like crazy.

  It must have been less than thirty seconds by now. He kept pedalling, but he found it harder than ever. He felt he could not get enough air into his lungs. They began to burn as much as the muscles in his legs. The vessel grew very hot. The darkness grew thicker, and the lights of the Lifemaker seemed to dim.

  Jacob felt himself fading out of consciousness. By now it must have been seconds to go. Maybe they had already passed.

  There was a moment, which seemed to last forever, where he felt a great regret. He thought of wasted opportunities, of friendships he could no longer get back, and people he could no longer make amends with. Taberah came into his mind, and he wondered if she had escaped the sea, and if her child—his child—would grow up without him. His regret was greater than his fear, and his fear was greater than his pain.

  Then everything turned to a deeper shade of black.<
br />
  He held his breath, and the darkness consumed him.

  9 – PROMISE

  Jacob awoke in his quarters, with far too many people crammed inside, standing over and staring at him. Doctor Mudro was there, paying more attention to his pipe than his patient. Rommond was there, looking as immovable as ever. Whistler was there, with worry seeping through his bandages. And Taberah was there, alive and well—more alive and more well than Jacob felt.

  “So I guess we made it,” he said, though really he would have liked the confirmation.

  “No,” Rommond said. “We hauled you in.”

  “I pushed you in,” Taberah said. “We tried to revive you in the submersible bay.”

  “Maybe I just needed a bit of Mudro’s leaf.” He smiled at Taberah. “Or the kiss of life.”

  “And why would you presume that I, and not the doctor, granted it?” Taberah replied.

  Mudro grinned, and playfully raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, whoever it was,” Jacob said, “thanks.”

  “Come on, then, let’s give him some breathing space,” Rommond said. Jacob thought that maybe he just did not like spending too long in the same room as him. Mudro left with him, leaving Taberah and Whistler behind.

  “That was close,” Jacob said.

  “A bit too close for comfort,” Taberah replied.

  “When have we ever been concerned with comfort?”

  “Says the man we carried to his bed.”

  “At least it wasn’t my grave.”

  This latter comment forced Whistler to turn away. He looked out the window, as if he was still trying to find those unusual fishes. There was only darkness out there now. Even the night sky was brighter. Yet it was a long time ago since they had seen the sky.

  Taberah placed her hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You did good out there,” she said, and her voice was softer. Jacob was not the only one who noticed, because Whistler looked at her too.