Steamsworn (Steamborn Series Book 3) (19 page)

Smith shook his head. “The resistance is self-contained. It is geared so a grandmother could load it and cock it, but it has the force to launch a four-inch lead ball almost two hundred yards.

With that kind of force behind them, they could hit targets much farther than Jacob had hoped. “Maybe not for the impact fuses.”

“Indeed.” Smith pulled a metal vest off a stand on the wall. He ran his fingers over the interlocking plates and said, “Mary.” He tossed it to her and she caught it.

“What is it?” Mary asked.

“Light armor. It will not slow you down, but it can stop a bullet or a sword. I know you have an aversion to armor, so I have been working on that for the past month.”

“Why?”

“Because we always find trouble, and you are my friend, and sometimes you can be an idiot.”

Mary grinned and shrugged the vest over her shoulders. She didn’t touch it further, but it snapped together across her chest with a clank. “What was that?”

Smith gave her a small smile. “Magnets. One of Targrove’s designs.”

Mary pulled at the seam. “I can’t get it off.”

“It is a good design.”

“Smith,” Mary said, her voice flat.

He laughed and pulled her collar up. “Here, press this to shield the magnets.” As soon as he did, the seam fell open. “They will stay shielded for about ten seconds before the mechanism resets. Then it will close again.”

Smith eyed the rest of the group, glanced at the wall, and nodded. “We’re going to need a crate.” He started counting the weapons and armor left along the wall.

Jacob shuffled past Smith to the corner. Two square brass trunks sat stacked on top of each other. He opened the lid to the first and found it empty except for a coil of rope and a thin black blanket. He pulled everything out and slid it to Smith. “Here’s one.”

The tinker blinked and looked at the trunk. “I forgot those were in here.”

“Good sign you have too much crap,” Mary said.

“Indeed,” Smith said as he began laying the armor into the trunk.

“Can I have this?” Jacob asked, holding up the rope.

“Is that a fuse?” Smith asked. “Was it in the trunk?”

Jacob nodded. “I have an idea.”

“So be it. I have no use for it. Be warned, it is thick and tends to be noisy.”

“Perfect.” Jacob laid it on the workbench and slowly sliced off several wafer thin sections. “I’d like to line the grenades with it.”

Smith stood beside him for a moment before he resumed packing. It only took a few minutes to fit most everything from the room into the two trunks. They may have been light before, but now they were more like anchors. What they couldn’t fit, they threw over their shoulders or stuffed into their packs. Only a few items stayed behind.

Samuel lifted the first trunk about an inch off the ground before letting it slam back to the ground, brass ringing against stone. “How much does that weigh?”

“I’ll get it.” Smith slid a lever on his arm, waited a beat, and then picked the trunk up like it was no heavier than a Cork ball.

“I can’t even imagine what a Berserker must have been like in the Deadlands War,” Samuel said, watching Smith set one trunk on top of the other and carrying them both to the door.

“Terrifying for everyone,” Smith said. “Just … be glad you do not know. Grab the crates with the bombs, would you?”

“Let’s get everything back to the Skysworn,” Mary said. “We can head back to Dauschen tomorrow. I need food and sleep.” She looked at Drakkar. “There’s a small Cave eatery close to the docks. If anyone would like to join me.”

Drakkar nodded. “I would welcome the chance to treat you all to some of my native dishes.”

“Free food,” Samuel said. “I’m in.”

“Do you know what is more terrifying than a Berserker, Drakkar?” Smith asked.

The guardian shook his head.

“A free-loading Spider Knight.”

“Hey!” Samuel protested with a laugh.

“Come on,” Mary said. She adjusted her vest. “Let’s get back to the Skysworn before Smith blows a gasket, and I don’t mean that metaphorically.”

Jacob frowned at the thought. If Smith’s biomechanics were like his own, a blown gasket would be …

“Messy,” Alice said as she grimaced at Jacob.

*     *     *

A different crawler
waited for them when they made their way outside. Apparently the last driver had been good on his word. The streets were no less busy, but this new driver was no less savvy when it came to avoiding the crowds. He dropped them at the docks in no time.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked.

Smith set the trunks down inside the elevator. The tinker’s arms trembled and shook. Smith nodded, but he didn’t speak.

“Yeah, that’s a no,” Mary said. “Why don’t you power down?”

“Soon.”

Mary sighed. “Who’s the idiot?”

Smith summoned a small smile, but he still looked pained. The doors slid open. Smith scooped up the trunks and hurried over to the Skysworn, crossing the gangplank well before anyone else.

Jacob hooked his fingers into one side of the lighter bomb crate, and Alice carried the other side. She shuffled backwards across the gangplank, leading Jacob. A breeze brought the stench of burning rubber. Something had overheated nearby. The wind came from behind them, so Jacob didn’t think it was the Skysworn.

“Watch your step,” he said.

Alice glanced over her shoulder and stepped down, onto the surface of the deck.

“Here,” Mary said as she opened one of the wide storage benches along the side of the pilot’s cabin. “Set them in here.”

“So close to the cabin?” Alice asked.

“If those things go off, I don’t much think it will matter where they are.” Mary took Jacob’s side of the crate and helped Alice lower it in.

“You want this one in there too?” Samuel asked.

“Yes, please.”

The Spider Knight dropped the crate in beside the first before Mary closed the bench and locked it.

“Smith?” Mary said. “Smith, where are you? If you die, so help me, I’ll kill you.”

A shaky—but living—Smith rounded the corner by the pilot’s cabin. “I am alive. I just need rest, and food.”

“And food you shall have,” Drakkar said.

“I’ll catch up,” Jacob said. “I want to try repacking some of those grenades.”

Mary eyed him for a moment. “Just don’t blow up my ship.”

*     *     *

It wasn’t long
before Jacob joined the others. He took a deep breath over the steaming bowl of rice and beans and mystery meat. It smelled as amazing as it tasted, permeated by thyme and sage and another dozen scents he couldn’t identify. He sighed and let his chopsticks clatter onto the side of the bowl.

“Still upset I will not tell you what the mystery meat is?” Drakkar asked before taking another bite from his bowl.

Jacob smiled and shook his head. “I know what it is. It’s a Pilly. I could tell by the look on Alice’s face as soon as she took a bite.”

“Yeah?” Alice said around a mouthful of food. “I’m still eating it, aren’t I?”

Drakkar grinned and set his chopsticks down. “What troubles you, Jacob?”

Jacob looked around the table at his friends. Everyone was enjoying the food and the company and the drinks. “We’re just
sitting
here. Our friends could be out there dying. Gladys and George could be doing gods know what, and what about our families back in Ancora? And we’re just sitting here
eating.
” He slammed his palm onto the table and nearly growled.

Drakkar reached out and placed his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “No matter what is happening in the world, you must rest, and you must eat. Do not dismiss these quiet times as a waste. These are the times you savor, the times that will keep you moving when the darkest hours come crashing down upon your head.”

“I will drink to that,” Smith said, raising his pewter stein. “And to Jacob. Do not lose that fire, kid. It is the fire that will lead us into victory.”

The entire table cracked their steins together.

“For Charles,” Jacob said, taking a deep swig of ale. He frowned and brushed his tongue over his teeth. Drakkar’s drink wasn’t as harsh as the sake had been, but it was potent enough to calm his nerves.

“We’ll be on our way tomorrow,” Mary said. “And Drakkar’s right. We need our rest. You get sluggish without rest, and then you get dead. I’d prefer not to be dead when I just got a ship of my own.”

Alice squeezed Jacob’s thigh. “We’ll be back home soon. We can find our families and Reggie and Bobby.”

Jacob nodded and stared at her face, partially shadowed by the dim light inside the eatery, and said, “Then we take back the Lowlands.”

“W
e should stay
here and rest,” George said.

Major Wilks could see the pang of guilt cross Gladys’s face, but she kept her expression in place.

“We can help,” Gladys said, “and we will help. We’re going to ground with the infantry. I’m not going to sit here and listen to Major Wilks tell us all the terrible things they’ve found. It’s our
duty
to help those people.”

“She’s a leader,” Major Wilks said from the corner of her office.

George sighed and rubbed his face.

“These people aren’t like Rana,” Gladys said. “They aren’t trained to kill and maim like Rana was. We are stronger than their soldiers, and we can do more to help than those people can do for themselves. We’re going.”

Of all the assumptions Wilks had ever made about princesses, Gladys shattered them all. She was well spoken, but she didn’t shy away from battle. She practically dragged her guard into the front lines, and that made Wilks smile.

Something boomed nearby, and the floor of the warship shook. It wasn’t a minute before a soldier slammed open the door to the office.

“Major Wilks, we’re taking fire!”

Wilks blew out a breath and snarled. “I can see that, you fool.
Fire back.
”

Gladys and George vanished out the door without so much as a goodbye.

The gunnery sergeant began speaking into the transmitter on his collar as he left the major’s office. Wilks watched him go, wondering why in the hell he needed her approval to return fire. The bureaucracy Archibald had established on the warships was unnecessary and infuriating. If someone was shooting at you, you shot back. Simple.

Her heart leapt when the warship rocked. Someone had fired the main cannon. Wilks spread her fingers out across the map on her desk. The main cannons were probably overkill for such a small engagement. She clicked the transmitter on her collar. “Gunny, try the chainguns. We don’t want to level the city unless we have to.”

“Aye, Captain. Er, Major.”

Wilks sighed and turned her attention back to the maps. If the Midstreamers were right—and with the resistance they were seeing now, it seemed likely—Archibald had been right to send the warship. An underground railroad that led to Ancora?

The door to her cabin swung open again and slammed against the wall. The princess wore an expression that could flay a man alive.

“Major,” George said, and there was a fury in his voice. “That cannon just destroyed residential homes. Those are
not
military targets.”

“
Shit
,” Wilks said. “I asked them to switch to chainguns.”

“We need to go in on foot. Send infantry, unless you plan to destroy the entire city.”

“We’ll lose men.”

“Those were Archibald’s orders, and you will lose allies if you destroy Dauschen. These people will fight against the Butcher. They have
nothing
to lose. Send us in. I know the city well, and I can help you reach the resistance.”

“Archibald’s safe houses? They were already compromised.”

“There are survivors. There are always survivors. They will be in the refugee camps. It is their rally point.”

“Watch yourselves on the ground,” Wilks said with a nod.

“Thank you,” George said.

*     *     *