Sunstone: A Steampunk Reality

by Holly Barbo

  Wide-eyed, little Kes had nodded and gave the older man the numerical date.

  Feeling the sting of wind-blasted rain brought Kes back to the present. He sorted through the cubes until he had the appropriate numbers. Praying to Navora that it was still the same, he dropped the numerical sequence into the slots on the pressure plate. To his relief, he heard a click of the latch. Turning the gear wheel, he released the door just wide enough to slip inside with his pack. Spinning the gears back, he heard the latch click and sighed with relief to be out of the storm.

  He thought about Sola and Bareed but knew that if Navora had moved him here, she had also found a way to protect those two. Right now, he was exhausted. This form of travel literally knocked a person out. He remembered that there were guest accommodations on a lower, subterranean level, but right now he could barely keep his eyes open. Kes slid down the wall, slumping against his dropped pack, and was bonelessly asleep in moments.

  Mitch shook his head. His thoughts troubled him as he put away the waxed cylinders of Kes’s report. It’d not yet been a week since he’d sent the young man off to vacation. In that time, Kes’s adopted father, M’nacht, had been badly beaten in a home-invasion burglary, hospitalized and… disappeared. A few days ago, he had received three separate, odd visits, each from different sets of men, all claiming to be security forces exclusively working the case. The questions always revolved around Kes. They wanted to know where he was. Mitch always told the truth: he didn’t know. He’d told Kes to get away from dash-keys and message bots, to relax as he’d been working hard and deserved the rest. It was the follow-up questions that had really set him back. They had asked about the young man’s mental state and his relationship with M’nacht. By the Goddess! They were implying he had been the one to beat the old man senseless! The idea was preposterous! This whole thing just didn’t feel right.

  Pushing back his chair, Mitch stood and, grabbing his coat, strode out the door. Within two blocks, he was in the civic center of Therad, near the government buildings. The large open square was flanked by the imposing granite edifices of the Council chambers and offices. He hadn’t come this way in a long time. There were several clusters of people milling around: steam plant workers, shop employees and factory workers to name a few. There was a restless rumble in the air that was disturbing. Keeping to the edges of the crowd, Mitch skirted the commons and turned down a side street. Entering a nondescript building, he worked his way down the hall to M’nacht’s office.

  The bell above the door announced his presence, and all eyes looked up from their desks. A young man with black sleeve garters and glasses with two-colored lenses looked up from his position close to the door. He flipped up the light green monocle from each eye and stood with a slightly menacing air; fisted hands rested on each hip as he stared at Mitch without speaking.

  The scientist held his hands out from his sides, palms up. “I’m Mitch, Kes’s boss. Can I speak with Dylan?”

  From the end of the room, a woman with red hair got up and went to an enclosed office, and, with a brief knock, disappeared inside. A minute later, she emerged and approached him. “You can leave your coat with Oshe.” She gestured to the black-haired man still standing with his hands on his hips.

  Mitch removed his coat, being careful to make no sudden movements. It looks like they too have been visited, he thought. He followed the fiery-haired young woman back to the isolated office and entered. She remained just outside the door.

  A burly man with grey-streaked shaggy hair stood by the steam kettle on the side table. There was something threatening about his stance until he was assured that the visitor was indeed Mitch. “Come in, my friend,” he said. “Please forgive the lack of our usual cordial welcome.”

  Mitch interrupted him with a dismissing hand gesture. “Let me guess. You’ve had a series of unrelated visitors all saying that they alone are investigating M’nacht’s beating. Their questions are invasive, hostile and either threatening or come close to bribery. They want to know where M’nacht is.”

  Dylan studied the man, then slowly nodded. He poured Mitch a cup of kris and pointed at the chair across from the desk. “You too?”

  The scientist nodded. “Only the questions are different. They are asking me where Kes is and if he has been showing signs of emotional stress.”

  “What?” Dylan shouted.

  Before the shout was finished, the young woman had flung open the door and Oshe could be seen running toward the office.

  Dylan stood and patted the air in front of him. “Sorry. It’s all right. This man is a friend. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Go on back to your desks. Frea, you can close the door and spin the lock. We’re fine here. And Oshe? We aren’t to be disturbed.”

  The young man nodded in understanding, and the office door clicked into place.

  Mitch went on. “A couple of the men strongly implied that Kes intended to have his adopted father killed as he would inherit the old man’s wealth. They postulated the theory that he is in league with a strange shaman sect. The phrase they used was ‘secret brotherhood that wants to destroy Myrn’s culture and way of life.’”

  “That’s absurd!” Dylan shook his bushy head in disbelief. “Kes would never harm M’nacht! The whole line of questioning is worrisome. And I don’t like the fact that you are getting the…” He paused in thought to find the right words. Shrugging, he continued, “The same fake security men. I’d stake my life their credentials weren’t authentic. I don’t like the fact that M’nacht was beaten severely. And don’t tell me it was a burglary! I’m sure Quin secreted him away to protect him. What. Is. Going. On?”

  Mitch put down his untouched cup of kris. “You sound like me. I’ve been trying to figure it out too. Kes found some small anomalies in his survey of the Okamak, but those don’t seem important enough to warrant any of this. It’s my only clue, so I’m going there to look around.”

  Dylan nodded. “So noted. We’ll expect you to not go missing too. My team has a few avenues we’re pursuing, and you and I will get together when you return in…?”

  “I’ll be back before Petal Day. I’m leaving tomorrow. That gives me five days maximum.”

  Kes was stiff when he awoke. He’d slept off most of the debilitating fatigue on the rock floor of the annex foyer. He groaned as his stiffened muscles protested any stretched movement. Glancing out the window, he could see that it was the morning of a twi-day. Hoping that there was some form of food stored, Kes began exploring.

  An hour later, he had seen everything in the small facility. There was a kitchen on the first floor, just down the hall from the entry foyer. It had some supplies, but not enough for a long stay. That was fine with him. Right now he needed information and a plan.

  On the same level was an office with star charts on the wall and a dash-key. This was the outer room to a small observatory. The telescope and its gears dwarfed the chamber that started on the floor below. Through an intricate system of gears, cogs, pulleys and cranks, the dome would open to the night sky, and the telescope platform would rise and maneuver left or right to study the desired celestial quadrant. There was a bed in an alcove, for the convenience of the scientists who were up late, studying the heavens or writing reports.

  Climbing down the spiral staircase to the bottom floor led him to more sleeping quarters and the library and workrooms. It was here that he discovered why the Goddess had deposited him here of all the places on the moon. He’d been in the archive hall looking over the vast amount of information stored there. It was daunting to think that there was information he needed in the myriad of boxes and books tucked in the shelves. Kes had been leaning on one of the work tables, surveying the seemingly mountains of information before him. Unconsciously, his fingers drummed a tune that he used to hear Sola hum. There was a click, and a small flat piece from the side of the desk popped forward. He would have missed that, but an insistent whirring could be heard from the shadowed crack.

  Kes reached down but quickl
y snatched his hand back when a tiny metal arm poked out of the cracked opening. Carefully, Kes pulled the panel, taking care to stay away from the waving metallic thing. A hidden compartment was revealed, and inside it was a small cobalt blue bot. It scrambled onto the desk top, then folded its arms against its body and slumped into rest mode.

  “What are you doing here, little bot? Did the opening of the drawer wind your clockworks?” Kes murmured. Keeping an eye on the small mechanical thing, Kes slid the cubbyhole open to its widest. In the shadows was a book. Drawing the journal into the light, Kes paused in surprise. It seemed to be a companion to the little one M’nacht had purchased, but this one was more specific. The author signed it Hankel. Startled, Kes blinked. It was written by the genius who was the father behind all of the clockwork mechanisms, including the helpful bots.

  May the Goddess guide the one who finds this journal. Secrecy is the nature of the Sunstones and their hosts. Anonymity is their protection, but it works against the host having the necessary information when a crisis warrants their use. That is why I’m writing this.

  I’ve been told that, over the centuries, the Sunstones have been used to help Myrn overcome one crisis or another. I can’t speak of what happened before my time, as I have no information about details. There must be other mechanisms or devices which the Goddess could guide the hosts to, but all I can do is share what I know. My mother, Ravarian, was the host to the Mother Stone. Unfortunately, something alerted individuals who sought the Goddess’s stones for nefarious reasons of their own. All three hosts saw the danger in time and hid their Sunstones. I don’t know who they were, but my mother knew them. The sacred artifacts select their hosts, and once there are three… they find each other somehow.

  Many of the things I invented in my life came, in part, from her research. After her death in a violent home invasion, I found plans she had designed but hadn’t had time to build. I know they were inspired by her close connection to the Goddess. The mechanism I need to write about was one of a few safeguards Navora provided for the children of Myrn. Ravarian had made impressions of the three holy fossils and devised pressure plates specific for each stone’s weight and resonance. My son, Kessan, and I followed her plans to the letter and built a new safeguard for Myrn with the three Sunstones as keys. Kessan designed a piece of wall art—a glyph—and the special mechanism was embedded behind it. You’ll find it in the science building at the very center of the Four Corners. If there is a crisis and there are three hosts holding the sacred Sunstones, they must press the stones into the specific impression molds over the pressure plates that Ravarian dreamed of and designed. All three keys need to be pressed into the glyph within twelve hours of each other. I don’t know exactly how this works for us or for the Goddess except to say that it triggers an ultraviolet wave as a by-product.

  Kes turned the page to read more but the rest of the book was filled with diagrams of the building, the glyph and the three sacred Sunstones. He set the little book down and thought. This still didn’t answer all of his questions, but he wasn’t sure he was going to get any more. It would have to be enough. Navora had placed him here. He’d found and read the information. It at least gave a direction. He had two of the holy artifacts. Who was the other host? It was likely that Bareed and Sola knew, but it wasn’t their information to share.

  He shrugged and turned to the little mechanical bot sitting on the desk. With a hesitant touch, he brushed its side. When no defensive barb lashed out, he reached with more confidence. Upon examination, he found the short string that wound around a shaft to a mainspring inside its small housing. That short post meant it might have a key. Searching the drawer, Kes discovered a key with a hollow shank. Fitting the key, he wound the clockwork bot and set it down with haste. It immediately sprouted arms and skittered to the edge of the table. Kes swept it onto the closed book and lowered it to the smooth floor. Freed, the little bot flew across the stone on little wheels, making a bee-line to a fallen waxed recording cylinder. Grasping the barrel by its cobalt rims, the clockwork mechanism lifted it and scooted away.

  Fascinated, Kes followed it across the room where, under a book shelf, he found it neatly laying its cargo into a box with other waxed cylinders. Standing still, he watched as it searched the room for other out-of-place barrels before it settled itself into a docking platform on stand-by.

  Kes looked around for a phono-reader. It might be worthwhile to check out those cylinders at some time, but most of the information he sought was probably right in the book. Sitting back down, he re-read the short journal. He shook his head at the thought. So the Goddess provided us with more than one mechanism. Presumably there would be alternate places to go to activate her power if one was unavailable. But where do I find them? This is the only mechanism I know of, so I guess it’s the one I need to use. It would be useful to know who the third host was!

  Mitch arrived at Hank’s place early on a twi-morning. Releasing the pressure in the car’s boiler, he parked and unloaded the spectrometer and his diving equipment. Hank had several boats to rent, and he was underway in minutes. He throttled down the steam in the boiler as he approached the dangerous rock spires of the caldera’s entrance. Once through and into the Okamak, he wasted no time locating the buoy above the habitat and anchoring to it. Mitch released the pressure in the boiler, shut down the aether navigational lamps on the boat and began shuttling his equipment and supplies to the habitat. He had just surfaced to take the last load down when he detected the very audible thrum of approaching dirigible engines. Sliding into the shadows of the hull, Mitch awaited the first sight of the airship. He still hadn’t had a chance to look into the collection of designer water that Hank had told Mitch about.

  The big airship moved slowly overhead, and the scientist could see the bulging black bladders Kes had told him about. The habitat was close to a third of the way in from the teeth, so the hose crew must have filled the huge bags from water close to the caldera’s entrance. Floating in the shadow of the boat, Mitch tied the last of his bundles together and was about to submerge when he heard the dirigible returning. He waited in the hope of seeing some identifying marks on the airship. That information might aid Dylan’s research. As the dirigible moved toward him through the dim light of the twi-morning, he slid deeper into the shadow of the hull. Startled, he stared at the dirigible. The airship had no company markings! Not only was that against regulations, but the most shocking thing was the black bladder bags were now empty! In disbelief, Mitch muttered, “They aren’t syphoning water up! They’re emptying the bladders into the Okamak!”

  Storm Clouds Building

  It was the evening of a twi-day, and M’nacht was standing in the shadows near the window. It had become a habit. During the day hours, when he wasn’t carefully exercising his lesser injuries and getting stronger, he’d been watching the street. There were more clusters of people than he had ever seen before. Some carried signs, and the volume of their voices was louder. M’nacht could even understand some of the shouted words. Many wore the goggles of steam or factory workers. There were young people in the crowd, even children. From what Jordan had said, these individuals were risking their employment just being there.

  Quin joined him at the window. Their thoughts were aligned because the man servant said, “They’re losing what little hope they’ve been clinging to. Desperation is driving them, or they wouldn’t be here. It’s going to get ugly. I’ll gather the rest of our things.”

  M’nacht nodded but continued to watch. There were new, disturbing elements in the crowd tonight. More people gathered on the street as the evening wore on. Not only was the area lit by the regular aether lamps, but small fires had been built in trash cans and in small bonfires. A few carried lit torches. The noise level was up, too. The crowd was agitated—chanting or yelling.

  Quin emerged from the darkness near the door. “Jordan has his security men standing by, in case this gets out of hand around the building, but has brought the car to the bac
k entrance. It’s time to go.”

  They made their way out into the hall. Jordan had lit a small aether lamp at the end so they could see their way to the construction lift. Quin had stacked their belongings beside the door and had found a crate for M’nacht to sit on. He didn’t want his friend to fall when the platform moved.

  Stacking everything on the lift, he turned to make sure M’nacht was seated before he secured the gate and slipped the lock lever out of the cog. He was grateful that Jordan hired the best lift manufacturers for M’nacht’s buildings. The pulleys and gears allowed the descent to be controlled by the crank wheel operator. Quin turned the wheel at a smooth pace and, several minutes later, they were on the ground floor. Jordan wasn’t there to meet them, so the manservant shuttled their belongings and the last of his friend’s medical supplies to the darkened garage as M’nacht slowly followed. Not wanting to draw attention, a scuffed, older steam car awaited them. The engine was fine-tuned, though, and it was possible for them to accelerate out of danger if there was a need. Quin loaded the car and tucked the injured man in comfortably. He released the valve and built the steam pressure in the boiler.

  The two men uneasily waited, though the car was prepared to slip into drive at any moment. They could hear loud arguing at the front of the building. Glass shattered across the street. Flames reflected against a wall. More shouts could be heard. The flickering light from the fire diminished. The voices returned but were now calm. After a while, the yelling got fainter and they could see Jordan walking toward them through the shadows. He got in and released the brake.