Sunstone: A Steampunk Reality

by Holly Barbo

  With measured nonchalance, Raj’t took another swallow of kris and set the cup back into its saucer. As if the conversation was of no importance, he wiped his lips with his napkin before returning it to his lap. Keeping his gaze on the beauty of the landscaping, he answered. “Mother, it is good of you to drop by, but you are not entitled to any additional information, and your accusations are spurious.”

  She studied him with narrowed eyes. “You aren’t denying my allegations. You’re a fool! That is premeditated murder on a massive scale, because the disease is happening and you haven’t perfected the critically important medicine! All of us could sicken and die! What have you set in motion, Raj’t? Stop whatever it is you’re doing to cause the illness! Fix this now, because I won’t forgive you if any of our loved ones die due to this massively stupid greed of yours!”

  Raj’t clenched his jaw and his fingers clenched on the delicate handle of his porcelain mug. With a snap, the cup shattered. He tossed the broken piece on the table and, with a growl, wiped his fingers dry. Dropping the napkin over the expanding puddle, he rose from his chair. “That’s enough. This conversation is over!”

  She stood there until he met her eyes, then turned and swept out of the room.

  In the largest steam plant on Myrn, the foreman had a one-day incentive program for the children. Those who killed the most rodents by the end of the day would take home an extra kronot for the family’s paycheck. Since the little animals blended with the dark shadows of the hollows behind the big boilers and machinery, they had the advantage. The only safety measure the foreman was willing to do was slow down the machinery twice a shift.

  Through the early hours of the work period, the smaller children hunted and killed the older, slower rodents, and the bigger ones toted the grease tubs around the gears. Adults managed the pressure dials, repaired machinery and checked valves in the outgoing pipes. Things ran like clockwork. At midmorning, when the foreman walked through the plant, everyone looked up. As he passed the first chugging boiler, he spun the massive wheel and steam was released into the air from the giant check valve. The gears slowed. He pumped his arm and the children dashed into the shadows with their small clubs. The foreman began to trot to the next boiler and repeated the action. The children would have just the time it took for him to make the circuit between all of the boilers because, as he returned, the valve would be closed and the machinery would quickly chug into full speed. The adults cheered as a child would emerge, throw down a carcass and flit back into the shadows.

  Having completed the slowdown, the foreman returned to the first boiler. “Start up one!” he yelled.

  As he began to turn the big wheel, three kids darted out from under the gears holding rodents. They ran to their established piles and stood guard over their bounty.

  The foreman ran to the second one and called, “Start up two!” The sound of machinery moving to full steam increased as one by one he brought the boilers back to full pressure.

  The crowd screamed encouragement and exhorted the children to hurry as he approached each boiler.

  Working frantically, Tommy knew he had less than a minute left before boiler seven’s gears would engage and chug up to an alarming speed. He needed to win this competition. Ever since his mother had lost her floral business, things had been very bad at home. His father had been badly burned at the metallurgy plant and was worse every day. His mother struggled to put food on the table. They had a small garden, but the plants weren’t ready to harvest yet. His cousin was a greaser for boilers three and four, and he’d been lucky enough to get this job even though he was a little tall for it. He could hear boiler six come on line. There were little beady eyes peering from under the far gear. If he could get the stupid creature, it would bring his count up to eight. He ran deeper into the machinery and with a whomp killed the pesky beast. Snatching it up, he dashed toward the light just as he heard, “Start up seven!”

  Feet pumping, Tommy poured everything he had to escape the engaging gears. Rounding the last twist in the path, his foot slipped on a spot of grease and his feet flew out from under him. He crawled frantically to get clear but in the fall, his foot had been flung too close to the engaging teeth. Flinging the rodent bodies away, he scrabbled to find something to grab onto. With a scream that was shriller than the machinery, Tommy agonizingly fought to pull free of the gears. He felt his bones grind into splinters and his flesh tear as his blood sprayed the cog teeth and floor. Within a heartbeat, his scream went silent.

  Disturbing News

  Sh’ar brushed back the hair from her husband’s sweaty brow and tucked the blankets around his shoulders. “You rest. You’ve been working too hard on this project for Father and your body is exhausted and rundown. I’ll inform Grandmother and your supervisor. Shhh. Sleep now.” She tiptoed away from the bed and, taking care to make no noise, closed the door to the room.

  When the manservant brought her breakfast in the sunroom, the young woman asked him to stay nearby during the morning and check in on William in case he needed anything. With a smile and a nod, the man set the tray down and laid out the light breakfast and the morning paper.

  Unfolding the paper, she took her first bite and began to read. The first few stories were about a rebel religious group called the Shaman and how they were influencing the scientists. She shook her head. This was more drivel the paper had been printing lately. As a chemist herself, the reports just didn’t sound like something one, let alone several, would do. They were a pragmatic and fact-driven people by nature. Sh’ar would love to see the evidence the reporter was basing the story on.

  By the time she had gotten to the third page, she was ready to set the paper aside, when a small headline caught her eye: FATALITY AT THERAD’S STEAM PLANT. As her eyes swept over the article, she gasped as her spoon clattered onto the floor. Clenching her napkin, she slowly read the piece. Little Tommy was dead! The delightful child that always had a ready smile and loved to help his mother in the flower shop had been horribly killed in a senseless competition at the plant. The paper reported that the boy had killed the most rodents and would have won an extra kronot. It was reported that prize had been given to the second place child, who had thanked the foreman but had handed the money to Tommy’s cousin, who worked as a greaser at the mill. Funeral arrangements were pending due to the condition of Tommy’s father who wasn’t expected to recover from the severe burns he had sustained.

  Sh’ar sagged in her chair as tears rolled down her cheeks. She and Pos’et had just been talking about the businesses that had been closing. It was part of what she wanted to talk to William about, but he had been so listless last night and now had a fever. She gave a worried glance over her shoulder toward the closed bedroom door. Wiping her tears, she got up and walked to the door and opened it, just a crack, peering in. William was still asleep but had thrown part of the covers off him. She could see the sheen of sweat on his skin.

  Calling for a bowl of tepid water, Sh’ar returned to her husband’s side and gently sponged down his body that she loved, crooning comfort to the sick man. He was the most perfect mate in her eyes, and so dear, but he couldn’t get over their different social status and it drove him to work harder to earn her family’s acceptance. His fever seemed to lessen with the cooling bath but he didn’t wake. Setting the bowl aside, Sh’ar stood with a determined abruptness. Ordering the servant to stay with William, the young woman slipped on her shoes, tightened her corset and strode through her home. When she reached the garage, she checked the water and fuel levels in her small steam car and, igniting the fuel, watched the gauge on the boiler as the pressure built. As soon as it was high enough, she mounted the running board and slid into the driver’s seat. Adjusting her goggles, Sh’ar eased the throttle open and pulled out into the street. After searching the city, she found a florist and purchased a small flower arrangement with moon pearls and orange starbursts. These, she remembered, were the blossoms that Tommy had shyly shown her when she’d last visited
his mother’s shop.

  After she arranged to have them delivered, Sh’ar got back into her car and, releasing the throttle, drove directly to the Chemedco campus. It didn’t take her long to park. Flinging her goggles into the passenger seat, she leaped out of her car with a lack of lady-like decorum that would have drawn criticism if anyone had been around to see. She wasted no time making her way to her grandmother’s elegant office. Knocking, she waited the mere moments until she heard a response, before she flew through the door and closed it behind her.

  Ver’in raised her eyebrows at the abrupt entrance and, taking in the agitated state of her granddaughter, waved her into one of two chairs by the window. She poured a tiny amount of wine in two glasses before joining her there. “I always love to see you, but something is wrong. Talk to me.”

  Sh’ar took a deep breath, and when she let it out it still shook. “I’m not sure I know where to begin. There are a lot of things changing on Myrn and many are not good. Somehow I think Chemedco might be part of it. Have you noticed all of the businesses closing? I had lunch with my friend Pos’et a few days ago. Neither of us are witless females, but both of us have been relegated to that role by our families. She is married to T’flon, who runs Therad First Financial. He’s a good husband but treats her like a mindless pet even though she graduated with honors in accounting.” The young woman recounted the conversation that Pos’et had relayed to her. “I tried to ask William, but he was so tired. He’s been working very hard and wants to make Father pleased with him so he will be accepted in the family. He doesn’t understand that I don’t give a kronot for what anyone thinks. I know his worth and love him dearly.” She took a sip from the glass.”So what is the project that is sucking the financial life out of so many small businesses?” She put up her hand to forestall any answers her grandmother might make and rushed on. “Because those businesses have closed, more people are desperate to find jobs anywhere they can. Pos’et saw little Tommy—”

  Her grandmother interrupted with a question. “The child who helps his mother at her flower shop?”

  The young woman nodded. “—in the queue of workers outside the steam plant. His mother’s shop is closed. Have you seen the paper this morning?”

  Ver’in shook her head and got up and crossed the room to get the latest issue off the end table by the door.

  “Read the bottom of page three.”

  The older woman returned to her chair across from her granddaughter and opened the paper. Turning to the page indicated, she was silent as she read the article. Her hands dropped to her lap and she let the paper slide to the floor. “Oh. In Navora’s name, that’s awful! What a tragedy! A senseless death, for what? One little kronot!”

  “Yes, Grandmother, one kronot. But it wasn’t a light challenge for Tommy. I am beginning to think it was a big thing; that his family needed every single kronot they could get. But this isn’t all. On page two is a piece about the illness that is touching more and more of our citizens. I’m sure you’ve seen the stories. They’ve been talking about it for weeks. It may be nothing, but William has a fever and is unaware of what is going on. I bathed him with cool water before I left and Hamen is with him now. I didn’t trust this conversation to a dash-key or a message bot. When I put all the pieces together, it seems that my family’s business is involved. So I ask again. What is going on? What is the project that’s locking up so much capital?”

  Ver’in’s expression was thoughtful as she held her granddaughter’s gaze. “I really don’t know. I have suspicions but nothing definite. Your father isn’t talking, even to me. He did tell me that Chemedco is working on a medicine for it but,” she held up her hand to forestall her granddaughter’s words, “it is far from perfected and the failure rate is twenty-one percent in the test patients.” She shook her head. “That isn’t very good and I can’t risk your beloved William with those odds. Working on a new medicine doesn’t account for that much capital syphoned out of the economy. If we can believe what T’flon said to his wife, since he was trying to portray himself in the best possible light, I think I’ll go with that story for now. Hmm.”

  Ver’in stood. “I’ll send our family physician to check William. He’ll know if it’s the new illness or not and will have some possible treatments. I don’t want anything to happen to your William. The day is still very young. Why don’t you go out to the shrine of Navora’s Gate? You used to love visiting there with me when you were younger. Throw a prayer message into her energy stream and relax. Let me work on your father and do some subtle investigating.”

  With tears brimming her eyes, Sh’ar stood. She hugged her grandmother for a long moment. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to turn. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me that you will help me.” When she stepped back, her smile was a little tremulous. “I haven’t been there since before William and I were married. If I leave now, I can have time to visit with Bareed and Sola and still return by dusk.” She wiped the tears that threatened to fall, then waved her farewell.

  Ver’in’s expression hardened. If Raj’t wasn’t going to be completely forthcoming, she would look into things herself. No one was going to gainsay her! Her first stop was going to be the labs.

  Reunion

  At M’nacht’s call, Kes had run into the observatory and looked up to the head of the stairs. With a glad cry, the young man bounded up the spiral staircase to his father. He was afraid to hug the old man for fear of hurting him. Kes could clearly see the remnants of the beating: multi-colored bruising on M’nacht’s wan face, bandages on both head and arm, and the way he moved with studied care. “You look a bit worse for wear! I believe you have some explaining to do!”

  From the doorway to the room came a muffled snort. “A reasonable request,” muttered Quin.

  The old man cocked his head and looked Kes from the top of his head to his toes. “Your appearance has changed too. I wouldn’t have known you. Hmm. It’d be my guess that you met Bareed and Sola? Come into the study. I believe there are enough chairs for all of us.”

  Jordan shook his head. “Not me, M’nacht. I need to get back to Therad and keep up appearances. I will be by with food in three days. If you need to get a message to me, you know my dash code. Be careful what you say in it, though. So far they haven’t connected me to you, and I would prefer that to continue, but there are no guarantees. I’ll deliver a package to Dylan tomorrow. It doesn’t matter what I’ll put in it, but it will give me a reason to speak to him. No one would think twice about a package delivery. Please let him know it’s coming.” He smiled and nodded to Kes. “Good to see you safe.” And with a wave, he walked away down the corridor. The father and son could hear murmurs as Quin and Jordan spoke, then there was a creak of the massive metal door and a clunk as the lock was engaged.

  M’nacht leaned against the wall and with a thoughtful expression gazed in the direction the two men had gone. After a moment the old man turned toward Kes and motioned for his assistance. “My boy, there is much to talk to you about. I am beyond delighted to see you again. Let’s sit down and get caught up.”

  Kes settled his father in a chair in the study, watching as the elderly man lowered his healing body into a comfortable position. Pulling another chair close for himself, he raised his eyebrow at M’nacht. “I see the Goddess’s hand in this. We have a lot to discuss. Who was that, by the way?”

  Quin came in with a tray of food and three plates. Over the next hour, each exchanged their news.

  More than an hour later, the three were still sitting there but their meal was only crumbs and Quin was filling their cups with the last of the bottle of wine.

  M’nacht sighed. “I’m too recognizable and in no shape to creep upstairs in the science building. Stone is a product of an indiscretion. His mother is from one of the power families, so he is accepted into their circles but doesn’t carry the honorarium of a shortened name. He’s very hungry for that recognition and demonstrated his ruthlessness with me.” The old
man touched his arm and ribs. “That makes him dangerous. Right now he’s focused on me, but it’s possible that he is behind the visit to the shrine. You are being sought, too. Though I definitely can be identified, you may be able to slip by. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I wouldn’t recognize you. The problem is that I’m not certain that looking like an acolyte is safe due to the propaganda about shaman that is flooding the newspapers.”

  Kes reached up and lightly touched the tufts of little braids. He’d gotten so used to having his hair bound up that he’d forgotten he had them. He stood and moved to a small mirror that had been tilted to magnify the light from the aether lamp. “It’s bleached and streaked. If I wore a sweatband and the clothes of a laborer, I might be able to pass as a maintenance man.” He turned back and looked at the thoughtful expressions on the men’s faces. “I heard what you told me about conditions in Therad. I think I would be more invisible there, in that role, and perhaps I can learn something that can help right that escalating condition. Do you think there is some way I can get a job in that science building? I know there must be one hundred candidates for every job opening, but it would only be temporary, until the mechanism is activated.”