Clockwork Chaos Read online

Cobham caught Moore’s eyes turning toward them. He clapped a hand to Sparrowknife’s back and led the airman forward. He gave the airman a sharp look and pasted a false smile on his face. “You’ll have to forgive us, Sir Moore; we’re still not quite as used to the rigors of this land as you are. Is there somewhere out of the weather where we might converse?”

  “Weather? My dear sir, this is a fine and pleasant day. You should see it when Mother Nature becomes unruly. In reality, you can’t. Everything becomes as white and as thick as cream.” Moore laughed, a hand over his heart. “First I would like to show you our fabulous discovery, the leviathan graveyard.”

  Their host turned back to Kassandra, “So you father was Casimir Leyden? He would have loved this expedition, and he would have been astounded by what we’ve found. Please come with me, my dear. As his daughter you will have special insight into the wonders we’ve discovered.”

  Kassandra’s eyes sparkled with interest as she took Moore’s proffered arm. Wheeling about, the large man led the party down the pathway toward the beach. As a constable, Cobham was comfortable asking questions of others and himself until he had a clear view of the circumstances. He wasn’t about to stop now. “It’s a bit odd given our destination that we weren’t told of your expedition before we left, Sir Moore.”

  “I do believe you are mistaking the nature of our venture, good sir,” Moore tossed over his shoulder as they walked on. “We are a private expedition, not one of His Majesty’s. Funded by a concerned group of dedicated individuals, we are able to practice pure scientific investigation. We can explore without proving that there are practical applications to our discoveries or being hedged by puritanical views.”

  Cobham turned back for a moment, looking at the rest of the group. Now that they were on the decline toward the beach, he could see more of the rest of their contingent. His suspicions were confirmed. The men in the rear had small blunderbusses strapped to their backs, their brass bells glinting in the harsh arctic light. Were they for the white bears or the visitors? he mused.

  As they approached the leviathans, the reality of the beast’s size was brought home. In cross section the creatures were as tall as the first story of a building. Their bulk stretched away in either direction. There was a faint, unusual musk in the air. Cobham’s lips pursed. He’d been expected something more pungent perhaps. Then the obvious struck him. The leviathans must have frozen the whole way through. That was when Moore led them up to the side of the nearest cetacean. Grasping at a cord, he drew up the oilskin door flap which concealed a tunnel running into the purplish marbled interior of the beast. Kassandra stood there a moment, her eyes wide like a child’s, full of wonder. She stepped forward into the golden light of a hanging lantern. Cobham spared a glance backward, then followed Moore and Sparrowknife into the belly of the beast.

  Surrounded by layers of blubber and muscle, Cobham did have to admit that the shelter from the perpetual wind was better than before. However, the small lanterns did nothing for the chill. Rather their flickering light cast a haze of smoke and pungent musk. Cobham looked down discovering the walkway was covered in a layer of gravel from the beach tinted crimson by leviathan blood. His introspection cost him a moment and it allowed the others to continue further along the tunnel. Taking advantage of the opportunity and giving in to his curious nature, he looked about further.

  A few steps forward found another tunnel opening on the right that led toward the leviathan’s head. Stepping inside, Cobham walked along until he found another canvas flap door covering the entrance to a wide room carved into the beast’s flesh. There was something different about the floor here. While still bearing some of the gravel, it was smooth with a metallic sheen in that flickered in the light. Cobham stepped close to the wall to pry at the edge of the odd material. It bent and flexed in his hand. Finding a corner, he worked it back and forth until a piece broke off.

  The dim lighting gave him a poor view of the mysterious substance, so he placed it into his side pocket for further investigation. Standing up, Cobham noticed stacks of material projecting from the sides of the room. These were so coated in ice; he couldn’t discern their contents. He brushed off some of the rime, finding a projection. Cobham struck the piece a quick blow and it fell to the ground. Stooping down to pick up his discovery, he heard approaching footsteps. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he quickly wrapped up the second piece of evidence stowing it in his breast pocket. Two of the Antelaunders stood in the doorway. This time the blunderbusses were no longer shouldered, but pointed in his direction.

  Cobham raised his hands, pasting a smile on his face. Their dark eyes searched both him and the room until Sante Moore shouldered his way between them, putting a hand on each of the brass bells of the guns to tip their aim toward the floor.

  “Constable, we lost you. I understand that it maybe in your nature to investigate, but perhaps you should stay with us. My associates here have some odd beliefs. Since they’ve been subsisting on leviathan meat since our arrival, they can be somewhat protective of their victuals.” Moore gestured Cobham forward, taking his arm to lead him between the Antelaunders. Cobham hadn’t missed the furtive glance the man made about the room to see if its contents were disturbed.

  Cobham was led off to rejoin the others. He noticed that none of the British had joined their party. Rather there were two more Antelaunders in addition to the ones following Moore and himself. A glance over his shoulder found their guards once more shouldering the blunderbusses. Moore led them into what Cobham imagined was the leviathan’s stomach. Kassandra and Sparrowknife were clustered around a piece of canvas tacked to a wall. The top half was a series of inked in lines that must represent the tunnels carved through the beast. Down below there were sketches of the leviathan’s internal organs. Kassandra drew her fingers back and forth across the image, her lips pursed in thought. For a moment Cobham could imagine a younger version of her, fascinated by one of her father’s experiments.

  Moore shattered Cobham’s reverie by clapping his gloved hands together. “So what do you think of my discovery so far?”

  When Sparrowknife cast Cobham a guarded glance, Kassandra stepped into the conversational void, “What you’ve accomplished here is truly amazing, Sir Moore. You’ve laid out more about the physiology of these nearly mythical beasts than anyone before. You methods are very inventive, crossing mining with dissection to deal with such a large subject.” She hesitated a moment, then turned and continued with a tilt of her head, “What surprises me is with all of the leviathan blubber here, you’ve chosen something else to fuel your lamps.”

  Moore’s head jerked slightly. He broke into a laugh, “I should have known that Casmir’s daughter would notice the subtleties. It is true we could burn leviathan oil, but why go through the trouble of rendering that when we discovered a tar pit a short distance in land? With less work we are able to treat the oil there so that it burns for our purposes. Now I think I’ve subjected you to enough of the chill, let us retire to somewhere warmer.” The large man spun on his heel, leading them out of the frozen tunnels into the wan sunlight.

  Their exit was on the opposite side of the leviathan. Cobham spotted another flap door on the next remains in line. Moore’s party must be exploring several of the beast’s innards. Sparrowknife stopped, looking about in the open, his nose wrinkling. “Storm’s coming,” he stated, settling his parka’s hood about his head.

  “That’s very perceptive of you, Airman. We’ll probably have to reel in the weather balloon soon so it doesn’t get damaged.” Turning to the others he continued, “The storms here are abrupt and always dangerous. It would be best for us to retire to the main camp as soon as possible.”

  The skyline behind them had grown hazy and vague. Cobham thought back to stories of cold so bad that spittle froze before hitting the ground. Now he really wanted to be inside. As they turned back toward the buildings, Cobham noticed a repetitive thumping sound that he’s missed before. Perhaps between the levi
athans, with the wind damped down it was more audible. As they trudged up from the beach, the noise grew closer.

  Suddenly, a group of four men came scrambling down the path. This time two of them were carrying their blunderbusses in hand. Cobham felt little doubt as to the direction of their aim. The others carried between them the remains of the aforementioned weather balloon. Cobham cast a quick glance about; the Sharpshin was nowhere to be seen. Sparrowknife gave him a pointed look, having just come to the same conclusion.

  “I’m worried Mr. Cobham. The Captain wouldn’t just leave us behind. He’d have a solid reason to go. We just don’t know what it is. “ Sparrowknife said quietly.

  As the men drew nearer, Cobham could see a long line of holes in the balloon. Something that one of the repeaters mentioned by Sparrowknife would be capable accomplishing. He also noted that along with an aerometer and barometer, the balloon’s payload included a heliograph. Just who was the expedition signaling? he wondered.

  Sante Moore let out a long sigh, turning back to his guests, the expression on his features rearranging into annoyance. “I had hoped it would not come to this. But it can’t be helped. Your airship captain has taken things into his own hands. He was a bit more resourceful than I expected and escaped leaving you behind. Gentlemen, hand over your weapons please. Come let’s not make this any more disagreeable than it need be. I’m afraid my associates are not fluent in British. They may simply fire first since their only regard is for my safety.”

  Cobham assessed their situation as he reached for the revolver. There were just too many. While he suspected that Sparrowknife would be a good man to have in a scuffle, he wanted Kassandra involved in none of this. He handed over his bone-handled knife as well. Sparrowknife proffered up a small pistol and several knives. The armed Antelaunders marched behind the party now as Sante Moore led the group in the direction of the odd thumping noise.

  After passing through the buildings, they turned a corner to discover the originator of the sound. Inside a hollow carved out from the surrounding snow lay a large iron machine. The dull brown color of it was tinged with spangles of orange rust. Chuffing steam, one giant lever arm thrust out over and over sideways. The resultant clang of its extension echoed throughout the encampment. This must be some sort of pump, Cobham thought. Beyond the device, the ground sloped downward into the tar pit that Moore had mentioned.

  “So is that where we’re going to end up? Sunk in the tar?” Sparrowknife snarled, taking a step toward Moore. The bell of a blunderbuss swung around to thump against the airman’s chest. He never took his eyes from Moore’s. Cobham’s appreciation of the young man went up a notch.

  But Sparrowknife wasn’t done, “Miss Kassandra, don’t be fooled by him. There’s plenty of dirty work afoot here. If he hasn’t done it himself, then he’s seen fit to approve of it. Those leviathans didn’t die by themselves.”

  “Oh, I am certain that I question our host’s qualities but whatever do you mean by that, Airman?”

  While answering her, Sparrowknife still glared at Moore. “I may not have ever seen a beaching before, but it would be a true oddity if all of the poor creatures were to drag themselves into a nice regular row where their heads were in a line despite how large they were. Besides that, why would they all end up on their backs? I suspect that it’s because if we saw their tops we’d find a hole very similar to that on the wrecked dirigible. Isn’t that right, Sir Moore?”

  Cobham watched Sante Moore unclasp the pipe from his lips to tap out its contents into the snow. The big man put it away, each one of his moments stiff with restraint as the scientist struggled to hold his tongue. “Well, young man, before we had an instance where I could have told you that the Sharpshin disappeared mysteriously. Now that’s no longer the case.”

  “So what’s he doing digging in all of the leviathans?” Cobham asked.

  Moore was silent, his face now twisted into a scowl.

  “Ambergris,” Kassandra answered, “Leviathans are known to produce ambergris in a regular fashion whereas in their whale relatives it is somewhat rare. Ambergris is worth quite a bit of money—money that could be used to continue to fund such a project.” She watched their captor intently, “But that’s not it, is it, Sante? You’ve found another use for the ambergris haven’t you?”

  “It is a very unique substance, given its volatility.” Moore said with a smile. “In fact, mixing it with certain elements taken from ancient Greek alchemical texts makes it an excellent catalyst.”

  “Let me have a guess, one that could be used as weapon?” interjected Kassandra.

  Moore continued without acknowledging her outburst. “The catalyst mixed with the refined oil from the tar pit makes quite an explosive. Apply sufficient force to start a reaction and the mixture becomes quite destructive. That my dear is the weapon.”

  Another sound intruded on Cobham’s hearing, just below the omnipresent pump. This was a drone of sorts. Sparrowknife noticed it as well. The airman’s eyes flickered away from Moore to look upward. Out of the clouds came an immense dirigible, its prow low over the encampment. The long, grey cylinder of its bulk stretched into the distance.

  “The Windram is quite an aeronaught isn’t she?” Moore asked, his voice filled with pride.

  “There’s no such thing as an aeronaught,” Sparrowknife spat.

  Looking at the massive machine drifting by overhead, Cobham felt that he might just have to disagree. It was armored along the sides and bottom. Two sets of spars jutted outward at a swept-back angle bearing immense rotary fan blades that spun in a blur. Round barnacle-like protrusions harbored the barrels of cannons. The massive tail fins cut through the low-hanging clouds. He couldn’t blame Bornesun for lighting out with the Sharpshin. The airship couldn’t stand a chance against this behemoth.

  Kassandra, as always, went straight to the point, “Why, Sante? Why do all of this?”

  Moore responded after a moment’s thought. “The King’s empire in the New World is dying. Dying because he refuses to let us grow and learn.”

  “That is treason,” Sparrowknife said in a clipped tone.

  “Spoken just like a King’s man. But in consideration of your loyalty, do you know the history that your monarch’s dynasty is based upon?

  “When Edward the Third and the Black Prince led the court out of the Old World establishing New Britain in the New World it was a time of great opportunity. We left behind the old ideas with the plague-ridden continent. We conquered a whole new land. We opened our arms to the survivors that made it to our shores because we’d realized it didn’t matter where one grew up. We were human and alive, that was enough. Our nation grew from the strengths of its many cultures. We experienced a renaissance, much like the old Greeks. Our scientists, artists, and philosophers all came together to create something greater than the sum of the whole.”

  “That’s true,” interjected Kassandra, “It was an age of adventure and growth.”

  Moore’s countenance darkened as he swung towards her. “Then we conquered the entirety of the southern continent using what we’d discovered of the Black Plague as a weapon. We pushed all of the native peoples out of our new land into the Southern Islands off of our coast. We gave them indentured servitude that might as well have been slavery.”

  Shaking his head, Moore pointed a finger at their party. “But we’d reached too far. Our grasp couldn’t contain all of the lands we’d conquered. Now we had to try to hold onto what we’d conquered. We couldn’t even do that. We gave the southern continent to the Mexateca and the Southern Islands back to their inhabitants. We also left them all of our machinery and knowledge as well. Is it any wonder they harbor resentment of us? Our proud Monarchy bred generation after generation of Edwards until our present incarnation who can barely see beyond what his fingers can grasp on a map. New Britain is waning. Our once great country has no future.”

  Moore’s sudden silence after such a long diabtribe caught Cobham by surprise, but he could see the tensi
on still working in the man as he strode back and forth. This time when Moore turned back to the group of captives, his attention was focused on Cobham and Sparrowknife and as he spoke each word grew louder in volume until he was shouting.

  “Because I am a man of science I cannot be restrained by hidebound ideals and a lack of vision. Your tottering empire, ruled by aged, senile fools trapped in the dark bunkers of their fear is trembling on its very last legs. The future will leave His Majesty behind. I don’t intend to be left with him.”

  Shaking with anger, Moore addressed the Antelaunders, “Take them to the outbuilding by the pump and secure them there. We’ll decide what needs to be done after the Windram comes to tether.”

  “My father used to speak of you as a true visionary, Sante. I wonder if he couldn’t see past that to the madness,” Kassandra stated as one of their guards grasped her shoulder to spin her about.

  Moore turned his back on their party starting to walk off. “You father used to be part of my coterie. He used to be a believer, one of many. Disabuse yourself of the notion that I am doing this on my own, dear Kassandra. But your father, he never had the stamina to keep up with us. He was weak,” their captor threw over his shoulder and then marched off.

  The dilapidated shed was a poor windbreak and Cobham could feel the incessant gusts and hear them whistling through the cracks in the building. The three prisoners huddled about the small coal brazier in the shack’s center.

  “This morning I walked though the wreckage of an aircraft. Now I’m in the clutches of a mad man. I really can’t tell you how much I enjoy being along for the adventure, Kassandra. In the future can we possibly consider something a little bit less life-threatening?” Cobham said shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his parka, leaning closer to the brazier.

  “But isn’t it exciting?” she responded with a sly smile.

  Before he could frame a suitable response, Cobham found the items that he’d discovered inside the leviathan. He pulled the metal from his pocket, holding it up before the feeble light from the fire.