StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Well it’s the summer holidays and I had nothing better to do so I thought I would turn my hand to some writing. After 1 failed Doctor Who fanfic and an original idea for a sci fi story (which the less said about is the better) I tried to write something in the steampunk (or more Steamish(non)punk in my case) genre. This is part 1 of my story and since I am mostly doing it because I am board and for the practise I will likely post a part 2 at some point (which I plane to have include more detail on the Gentlemen use clockwork universe). Anyway any comments and advice for writing will be very welcome.

Note: Slight edit to part 1 8/8/06

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Isambard lay in his bed unable to sleep, his mind was abuzz with thoughts of the experiences he was missing. That he was tantalisingly close just a few corridors away only made it worse. One of the largest parties ever to be held at Hamilton House –his home- and he was not invited. His father had explained that he was too young for such an important social gathering, that important deals were often hatched such events and that he could not afford to spend the night molly codling him. It was unfair, he was almost sixteen almost a man grow...

Two loud thumps interrupted his chain of thought. Lifting himself from bed he turned until he faced the large oak door. With a creak it opened and a tower of five spider like creatures toppled inwards, spider like in all but one respect that is, these creatures were spindly metal constructions. Isambard halted in terror, his body in shock even as his mind screamed to run.

From the top spider's midsection protruded a long metal probe, which it had just used to pick the lock. This proved ill for it as, having the furthest to fall; it hit the ground with sufficient force to send the probe thundering in to its body. Smashing sounds were quickly followed by an explosion of cogs, gears, springs and a cloud of steam.

A piece of careening metal struck Isambard in his thigh snapping him out of his shock. Making a run for the door he bounded the spider machine blocking the exit and reached the corridor outside. Looking around he saw the two guards, there were always two on duty at the doors to his room, and both were clearly dead. He stopped, tottering on the precipice of shock, once again staring at them, his numb mind noted both bodies displayed twin sets of lacerations through their chest armour and holes driven through their long face guards. Their halberds were still clutched in their fingers but he could see the guards never had a chance to use the weapons . It was this last thing, the fallen guard's weapons that allowed him to resist the shock that was taking over his body again. They were something particle some thing he could do, running forward he bent down and snatched up one of the halberds. Isambard hit the connecter switch sending power from the tiny tightly wound spring to the weapon’s teeth, sending them rushing round the edge of the blade. Turning back to the door he saw, just in time, one of the spiders jump towards him, small clouds of steam shooting out of the miniature piston's in its legs as it left the ground. Instinctively Isambard blocked with the haft of the halberd knocking the spider to the floor and instantly brought the sawing teeth crashing down on the, dazed, machine now lying by his feet.

The spinning fangs of Isambard's halberd ripped through the delicate legs of the spider and then carried on in to its body where they gouged a fissure in the steam boiler powering the machine. As if it had been a bomb the spider flew apart, its innards spread about the floor as a cloud of steam streamed from its lifeless carcass. However in the time it had taken him to finish off this assailant the remaining three were upon him.

Fighting a furious retreat; he backed down the corridor, blocking slashing razor sharp legs and pincers all the way. Soon he suffered his second wound, a scything leg cut deep in to his right arm.

Isambard began to feel faint from blood loss and his defence grew slower. More injuries soon joined the first slash. As he neared the door to the main hall of the house he could hear voices and with one final surge of energy he pulled open the door slamming it shut behind him.

The assembled throng turned as he flung himself through, they looked aghast at Isambard's blood stained clothing, and his father spoke from near the back of the crowd.

"What is the meaning of this" his voice boomed

"Attacked, guards dead", Isambard half whispered before collapsing to the floor, his halberd falling out of his weak hands to lie beside him.

The crowed surged forward, surrounding Isambard's unmoving body, most had a look of worry on their faces. Some were even fingering the clockwork daggers (the height of current fashion) that hung at their waists. It was at this moment that the door fell in, its hinges having been sliced apart. The three remaining spiders leaped into the crowd. The lead spider landed on a guest's chest, gripping with six of its metal legs it thrust the remaining two through the unfortunate man’s torso, the tips appearing from the rear of his coat. The other spiders had preformed similar deeds to two other party goers.

Some in the assembled crowed had had the presence of mind to draw their (mostly) ceremonial daggers, and from about the hall the buzzing of clockwork, spinning the shaft of the short rapier like weapons, could be heard.

The few of the assembled people who knew how to use a dagger properly moved towards the machines, the first man with an unsheathed weapon to reach the creatures was an army Major named Rinkensworth. He, with a lightning quick stabbing motion sent his dagger into the spiders mid section. Unfortunately the blade did not puncture any vital components and the spider razor sharp legs darted out removing the man's hand at the wrist. With a shriek he jumped back desperately trying to stem the tide of blood gushing from the stump of his arm.

Another man ran up, sending a second stab in to the spider, unlike before this strike hit the main boiler of the machine, sending a cloud of steam and metal fragments in to the air, badly scolding the attacking man and hurting many of the surrounding people.

The press of attackers began to push back the remaining two spiders, mechanical legs began to shatter or fall useless, their pistons damaged as the number of attacks they attempted to block grew steadily larger.

With a final shudder they fell lifeless to the ground, holes in their armour giving a glimpse of their intricate innards, steam slowly billowing from them.

"Steam," Isambard father spat out the words.

Isambard woke up with his father Mordecai standing above him.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"You were attacked, my boy" his father replied gruffly.

"Why?" Isambard asked.

"We are not sure but, my self and the more important discussed the matter -once we were sure you would live of course - we think it may have been to make a point. To demonstrate to us that no one is safe. If you, the heir to one of the largest Clockwork Manufactories in the country could be killed who could be safe".

"But who, why me"

"The Steam Coalition of course, who else boy, as to why you it could have been anyone and their point would have been made the same".

Isambard's face grew white, the Steam Coalition -he thought- they want me dead. Terrorists bent on the overthrow of Clockwork, His clockwork, His future, wanted to kill him.

"What will happen now," Isambard said his voice quavering slightly "What is to stop them trying again"

"Well," Mordecai said "Tomorrow we will go down to the police station and make a formal report, and then I imagine the Government will do some thing. The Steam Coalition has not been so bold since before there leader, Newcomen Savery, was arrested. Until then, I have hired extra guards and starting, as soon as you are able, you shall start weapons training. I had hoped to avoid this, fighting is so "common", but your safety and the future of the manufactory must come first. Now try to get some sleep you are weak and need your rest."

Isambard had felt his eyes closing before his father had even finished speaking and so he was soon asleep. His dreams however were filled with creeping mechanical spiders and clouds of steam.

A full twenty four hours later Isambard woke again, his joints felt stiff from their long immobility and the slashes across his body ached with a dull throb. Pulling himself from bed he placed one leg on the floor, when no pain followed he placed a second leg down. Good still no pain he thought and using his arms pushed himself upright, only for his knees to give way and for him to fall back, his head hitting the mattress with a thump. Taking more time in his second attempt, Isambard held on to the bedstead and, using it to support him self, pulled slowly until he was on his feet.

This time Isambard was ready when his knees started to weaken and held on to the bedpost until it had passed. Letting go he slowly walked to the door, taking considered careful steps, reaching out a hand he slowly pulled it open and stood in shock at what he saw out side, there must have been ten guards. It would cost a fortune to employ this many soldiers to stand guard over him, all armed with partial-clockwork rifles, clockwork fire arms! Only with Her Majesty's personal writ could people to carry such weapons and she only rarely gave that to any but her armed forces. Their officer, a Captain Lucian came over to speak to him, carrying in his belt what looked like a full-clockwork pistol. Isambard mentally increased there cost to several fortune.

"Good day young Sir, I have orders to take you too your father when you awaken, now go dress your self, quickly now, he seemed to be anxious to see you" said the Captain and gently pushed Isambard back in to his room, not even waiting for a reply.

Walked to a large standing wardrobe Isambard chose a lightly patterned waistcoat in a Burgundy colour, a black tail coat and a tombstone shirt placing them on the bed. Next he walked over to a chest of draws and removed a pair of black trousers and a puff silk tie and added them to the pile. After considering for a moment he also selected a ornate silver headed walking stick, usually he would not carry such a thing but after thinking about the trouble he had getting out of bed he though it wise. Quickly dressing, he walked out the door.

Great work is that; clockwork versus steam. I'm very much enamoured.

The Guards fell in to step with Isambard, four in front, four behind – two having been left to guard his room. The Captain led the way, as he headed for his fathers morning study on the east side of the house, the better to catch the suns early light.

Arriving at the door Isambard felt oddly relieved, he had lived in this house and walked these same corridors almost every day since he had been able, yet today he was nervous, today he was thankful that he had not been killed in is bed. It was a strange and disturbing feeling.

Knocking, he walked in, the room was large as studies went and well decorated, oak paneled the walls, a thick purple carpet lay on the floor and a large Mahogany desk and chair took centre stage. Off to one side was an ornately carved drinks cabinet and several chairs for visitors, taking one of the latter and gazing longingly at the former Isambard sat down in front of the desk, thinking that drink might be exactly what he needed to calm the disturbed feeling he was experiencing, even if –another part of his mind added- it would not be what the doctor would recommend for a man in his condition.

His father, Mordecai, was sitting behind the desk and looked up from a model ship he was examining as his son sat down.

"Take a look at this," he said gesturing at the ship on the desk, "It's a model of one of the new Hybrid warships, the HMS Theodosia I believe it's to be called. We have been commissioned to design and build it. Best of both worlds, you see, it has power like a sail ship as well as the reliability and power of a ship propelled by spring driven clockwork."

"You see these cup-like sails," said Mordecai pointing at a sail arrangement that resembled an anemometer, "The wind spins the cups round and the motion is transferred through these clockwork wheels and finally to these compression chambers in the bowls of the ship, just like in a charging house."

"But if the navy's ships can compress their own springs won’t we lose much of the money we make from there use of our charging houses, they are one of the corner stones of our business" replied Isambard a look of confusion on his face.

"Yes, in the long term when the older class of ships is entirely phased out we might, however the massive influx of capital creating these ships will bring, will allow us to invest in new areas of development that other wise we could not have afforded, I have heard rumours that the Queen and Parliament plan to create a form of clockwork wheel carriage that runs on fixed rails for use by the working class people! If we could secure a contract like that the loss of the naval charging stations would be insignificant and there will always be civilian traffic, the hybrid engines are far too expensive for any but the government to afford."

"It seems very "interesting"," replied Isambard, a frown on his face showed he was not completely convinced.
"Well, it does not matter; right now we have more important things to do. I have made an appointment to meet a Commissioner, so we can make a police report, at one o'clock and we need to stop at one of our factories on the way there, one of there machines broke last night and I need to see the damage for myself and supervise a replacement. We will leave in half an hour so if you have anything to do before you leave do it now".

"Yes, father" Isambard replied and turning placed one hand on the door handle when he thought to ask, "Father, has any more information about the attack come to light".

Mordecai looked anxious but reaching down below the desk he pulled up a copy of The Times and threw it to Isambard. Opening it he read the headline "Across Britain Clockwork Heirs Attacked".

"You were not alone son, the heir to nearly every major Clockwork Enterprise in the country has been attacked from the Harland's in Glasgow to us here in the nation’s capital itself. You were lucky, over three quarters of those attacked, died".

Feeling numb Isambard clawed the door open and fell into a seat outside, for some reason seeing it in print made it realer, forced it into his reality. He raised his hands so they cupped and supported his head and cried.

When Mordecai left his office twenty minutes later, he found Isambard still sitting outside. Looking down at his son he saw the red rims to his eyes and knew that Isambard had been crying. Kneeling down in front of him Mordecai grasped Isambard by the shoulders and pulled his son towards his chest and held him there.

"It will be all right, you are fine. Don't worry about the others, all that matters now is that you are alive."

"But they are all dead" Isambard choked out "Why should I survive with a few scathes when others were killed in their beds. What Right Have I?"

"What right do you have to deny it? You were quick, you were strong, you are My son and you were resourceful and so your attackers failed. That is something to be proud of not sorrow for".

Mordecai drew Isambard to his feet and half supported, half carried him along the hall to the main doors which were standing open for them, and climbed down the steps to the large gravel area in front of Hamilton House. There they waited for Mordecai's driver to bring round the Clockwork Wheelhouse, from under the closed pavilion were it was stored. By the time it arrived Isambard was recovered enough to climb the stairs to its narrow cabin by himself. He was quickly followed by Mordecai who after speaking to the driver, gave their destination and sat down opposite Isambard.

The cabin had been made to resemble that of an expensive coach, soft pillowed benches lined the two long walls and the remains were taken up with the entrance door and a large, for the compartments size, window. Isambard travelled in the wheelhouse regularly but he always looked forward to it. He loved the sense of power he felt when its clockwork motor moved him by itself without the need for horses but today he clamped down on the feeling, it did not seem right to experience that today.

Isambard stared out the window at the countryside racing by, a farm house came into view, he stared at a large man driving a horse and plough across a field that bordered the house, there was smoke billowing from the chimney. He noticed, it had a large green door and ... and before he could notice anything more the scene was gone, whipped away by his movement. Why did I notice that, thought Isambard, I must have seen hundreds, thousands of farms but this one I try to notice and it's gone before I do? That must mean something or maybe nothing, who am I to know, just someone who got lucky and survived.

Minutes later they arrived at the factory they had been travelling to, it was a large square building with several water wheels feeding off a channel from river running beside it. Isambard had never been to this factory before but he knew it created, wound and compressed springs that were used to power clockwork motors along the south east coast of England, from the huge spring assembles that powered the Battleships in Thames estuary to the spring that powered the wheelhouse he had just arrived in. It was not the largest they owned in this area but it had a reputation for quality which meant its springs were always in high demand, maybe this was why Mordecai was visiting personally rather than delegating to a Clark or area officer.

Isambard climbed down and was quickly followed by Mordecai. Both stood near the entrances as the Governor of the factory rushed out to meet them. He was a fat, portly man, he could afford to be for a Factory Governor was a well paid job, a little over fifty, his brown hair just beginning to thin. When he reached them he put out a portly hand which Mordecai grasped and shook.

"Its good to see you again Mordecai" said the Governor

"And you too, Levi if you can take me to the machine we can begin. Isambard you shall wait here, the noise and heat would not do you good." replied Mordecai.

Walking over to a bench, set next to a wall, Isambard sat and thought. Why had the Governor been so informal with his father, a Governor, one step above a foreman, should have shown more respect and why had he been left out side, he had visited hundreds of factories over his life, it must just have been concern over his condition after the attack.