Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure (28 page)

Sir Bradford smiled as Sutton walked away and then turned to Sigmund and commented, “I guess you get to stay with me.”

Sigmund looked around. He had never been in the army and certainly had never prepared for battle. He felt scared and proud at the same time. He met Sir Bradford’s eyes and felt a strong sense of right. “Until the end, sir.”

“Let’s not be too dramatic, eh?” Sir Bradford then stepped on a box next to the guardhouse which signaled the surrounding men to come to attention. He looked over the group slowly, sized up the men, and radiated authority. He thought his days of leading men to battle were far behind him. He said to the gathered men, “I thought my days of leading men to battle were far behind me. But when the Empire is in need, no one is exempt, not even old one-armed soldiers.” The group chuckled a little at this. Sir Bradford had a way of making men feel at ease. He had the balance of leadership and friendship, knowing exactly when to apply both. He continued, “Most of you are familiar with the war faction that has grown in the government. This faction has many supporters and looks to be led by our new Defence Minister, Christoph Grimkraken. You are also aware of the attack on Portsmouth this morning. What you are not aware of is that the attack was not from the Ottomans, but was organized by Defence Minister Grimkraken and his faction.”

The men gasped, looked at one another, and talked excitedly. Sir Bradford interrupted, “Furthermore,” the men quieted, “Grimkraken and his group have a new power source, a scientific breakthrough that has allowed him to build some advanced war machines. It is likely that they are more powerful than anything in our arsenal. But, he hasn’t had time to build too many of them yet. His development site is the warehouse at Battersea. This is our target. Stopping Grimkraken is the mission.” He paused to allow the assignment to sink in. Then, “We need as many armored vehicles and cannons that we can bring. His weapons may be stronger than ours, but perhaps we can overwhelm him with numbers. Load up on ammunition and any body armor you have. I expect us ready to leave in thirty minutes. Are there any questions?”

The men had determined looks on their faces. There were no questions. “Dismissed!”

27.

Like the rest of London that early Saturday morning, Battersea was draped in cold grey drizzle. The beautiful summer days had finally relented and given way to one that was bitter and dreary. The dark water of the Thames continued its never ending flow behind Grimkraken’s factory with boats passing by, visible only as silhouettes through the greyness.

To the south of the factory, other silhouettes started to be seen along the main road. It was Sir Bradford’s army. First to be seen were the armored troop carriers. These large, heavily armored machines could hold twenty men inside of their hulls. The powerful coal engines sat in the front of the carriers, their smoke stacks angrily belching black smoke and sparks into the sky. Besides the men they brought with them, the troop carriers also pulled a cannon behind each one.

Next to materialize were the heavy horse-drawn wagons. These held a few men but were primarily used for bringing munitions and armaments to the battle. In addition to cannons, these brought a few of the large caliber Gatling guns.

Before leaving the barracks, Sigmund had walked with Sir Bradford as he surveyed the troops. The determined look on their faces was about the only thing that the men had in common. It seemed that the armor that the troops were dressed in was as individual as each person. Sigmund was most impressed by the men who wore the heavy armor. These men, from what could be seen, were large and strong – they had to be to carry the weight of their apparel. The mixture of iron, copper, and brass that were fastened to chests, arms, and legs gave these men the look of automatons. Each had fierce helmets that allowed for sight but little else. It would be difficult to take one of these soldiers down.

Some men had a different strategy to their protection. Some wore heavy armor on their torso only, leaving their legs unprotected – evidently figuring to be behind some kind of shelter or in a ditch.

Most of the men had armor that looked like little more than the plate that Holmes had given Sigmund. A balance between movement and protection.

The biggest surprise to Sigmund were the handful of men who wore no armor at all – the scouts. They relied on speed and stealth as their protection, armor would only slow them down.

The weapons that the men had were also varied. There were large rifles, some with scopes, some without, scatterguns of various sizes, and a few guns that Sigmund didn’t recognize. At a later moment Sigmund asked Lieutenant Mills about the rifles that seemed to have extra armor down their barrels. Mills replied that these were ‘shielded rifles’ or as the men called them, ‘umbrella guns’. When the men reached the battle, they would expand the armor plates – like opening an umbrella – which created a shield around the barrel of the gun that protected the user of the gun. When holding one of these weapons, it very much looked like someone was looking down the shaft of an open umbrella. Wondering how they could see, Mills explained that there was a small opening along the top of the gun barrel so that the user could aim. Seeing all these instruments of battle gave Sigmund confidence that they could win the day, but, he had to remind himself that Grimkraken too had his own variety of battle tools.

Sir Bradford’s army approached from the south. They had crossed the Thames at Westminster and headed west to Battersea. They would have plenty of room to spread themselves out and maneuver before the factory. Sir Bradford could have chosen to approach from the North but Chelsey Bridge, which ran close to the factory, would severely bottleneck them – not to mention that Chelsey Bridge was possibly the poorest built bridge in London. It was an easy choice to take the southerly route.

Sir Bradford rode in the first armored vehicle, leading his men.  Sigmund felt out of place sitting next to the Colonel.  As the factory came into view, Sir Bradford stared grimly at it and its surrounding walls – darkened by moisture and low light. Sigmund, being completely out of his element, asked, “So how does this start? We pull up close and open fire?”

“Heh, not exactly,” replied Sir Bradford. “We give them a chance to surrender. I will walk up to the gate and give them the choice. Remember, these are fellow countrymen, we do not want a battle if it can at all be avoided.”

“And if they refuse to surrender?”

“Then we give them a little time to change their mind.  After that, we force our way in.”

Sigmund looked out the window at the large dark building. Never had he felt more scared in his entire life.

“Stop here, driver.” commanded Sir Bradford and he exited the vehicle. Sigmund didn’t move but watched as the men were led effortlessly by Sir Bradford. He organized them in a wide pattern, almost like a barricade. The armored vehicles were parked sideways to the building, providing protection for the men. Cannons and Gatling guns were interspersed, no two close together. The rest of the men started digging in, creating ditches in the earth to create a safe location to fire their rifles from.

Sigmund finally exited the vehicle, feeling particularly useless – he didn’t even have a gun. He gravitated over to Lieutenant Mills, the only person he knew by name other than the Police Commissioner. “Is there something I can do to help, Lieutenant?”

Mills, knowing that Sigmund was not a soldier, did not dismiss him immediately. Instead, knowing they would need all the men they could get, he told Sigmund, “Stay close to me. I can use you as a runner. You know what that is?”

“A person who relays orders?”

“Correct. If a battle happens, communication will be paramount. You will be one of the means that we use. Do you have armor?”

Sigmund revealed the breastplate that Holmes had loaned him. “It works. Trust me.”

“Good. I wouldn’t recommend too much more. For your job, speed is more important.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Lieutenant Mills laughed, “You are not a soldier.” Not an insult, just a fact, “You don’t need to address me as ‘sir’. My name is Daniel.”

“Thank you, Daniel. I’m Sigmund.” And extended his hand.

“Oh, I know who you are. Who doesn’t recognize the Bomb Bandit?” Responded Daniel, then shook the offered hand.

Sigmund had actually forgotten that he was still technically the most wanted man in England. But that was changing. Grimkraken was taking over that honor.

“Bring me a horse!” a voice yelled out. Sigmund looked for the source, it was Sir Bradford. A soldier walked over with a horse in tow and handed over the reins. Sigmund wondered how this one-armed person would be able to mount it, but Sir Bradford pulled himself up and mounted with ease. Sigmund needed to stop underestimating this man.

He watched as the horse and its rider walked across the open land towards the front gate of the factory. There was no trepidation, no ducking or hiding, Sir Bradford rode tall in the saddle, fearless. As he approached the gate, Sigmund held his breath, praying that a shot didn’t ring out, that the leader of this army not be the first casualty. Sigmund didn’t know war but he knew the effect that the loss of a leader could have. He thought of his father and of the brief time he thought he had lost Harry. Devastating losses to his personal life.  Losses that took time to overcome. This army would not have the time to recover from something like that. A few tense minutes went by as Sir Bradford conversed with someone on the other side of the gate. It was quiet among the men. Occasional sounds could be heard of the conversation but nothing loud enough to understand. Would the gate open and men walk out with their hands raised? What exactly would a surrender look like, wondered Sigmund.

After another minute Sir Bradford pulled left on the reins and turned his horse around. He rode to his gathered army in the same way he left. Slowly and majestically. Lieutenant Daniel Mills – who had become the unstated second in command – walked out to meet him with Sigmund following behind him. “Well?” asked Mills.

Sir Bradford shook his head but said nothing. He continued riding until he was closer to the men. Mills and Sigmund followed alongside. When the horse stopped in front of the middle of the army, stretching out in both directions some distance, Sir Bradford called out in a loud voice, “Prepare for battle. Do not fire until my command.”

Following the announcement there wasn’t a lot of activity. Most men were already in place and ready. Sir Bradford dismounted and handed the horse off to a nearby soldier. He led Mills and Sigmund behind the nearest armored vehicle, looked at them both and said, “There was not even a negotiation. He refused flatly. I doubt that time will change his mind.”

“You talked to Grimkraken?” asked Sigmund.

“No, not directly. He wouldn’t show himself. The coward. He used –”

There was an enormous creaking sound that interrupted the conversation. The screech of large metal shrieked through the area. It came from the factory. Sigmund and the others looked around the armored vehicle towards the source of the noise. Over the wall, they could see the top of the factory doors – they were opening. They watched transfixed as the doors opened all the way, screeching their banshee voices all the while. Then a silence. The army held its collected breath as if waiting for the devil himself to exit the factory.

After several seconds of tense quiet, there came a sound. It was as if a giant sledgehammer had hit the ground. This was followed by another and then another. It sounded like footsteps of a giant. Then there came another set and then another.

A metal head and then shoulders appeared over the wall as the metal war machines approached it. The army outside of the factory stared in amazement. Some gasped. One man even screamed. Sigmund simply watched. He’d seen them before – but it wasn’t moving the last time he saw it, nor was it looking to battle someone.

The army continued to watch with held breath as eight of these machines lined up along the interior of the wall. Each one had two metal tubes that were attached to its back and pointed straight up at the sky. No one was sure what they were – smoke stacks? – until the tubes moved and mounted, one on each shoulder, pointing at the army. No one had any doubt now that these were cannons.

“Prepare for incoming fire!” yelled Sir Bradford.

The army somehow found a way to make themselves a little smaller. Sigmund felt safe behind the armored vehicle. It seemed like an impregnable object against his skin, thick, heavy, immovable. Still, he made sure that not much more than his eyes were not safely behind it.

A few men appeared at the top of the factory wall, no doubt on ladders, aiming rifles at Sir Bradford’s army. It seemed as if the battle would start sooner than later.

Then, they all waited. Soldiers on both side watched each other, looking for the first aggressive move. An unearthly quiet descended on the area. Own heartbeats could be heard, but little else. Tension grew. Nerves stretched. Sigmund felt adrenaline coursing through his veins and yet there was no outlet. He looked over at Mills and was relieved to see that that he seemed on edge too. Sir Bradford, however, looked like a statue – staring at the opposition, no emotion, just waiting for the inevitable move.

Without any announcement, no preamble, the battle began. The machines behind the walls fired from their shoulder mounted cannons. Their first salvo slammed into many of the armored vehicles and near a few of the cannons. The sound was deafening. The vehicles faced the barrage, taking damage, and being pushed a few feet back from their resting position. Sigmund was knocked down, the vehicle he was behind slammed him backwards.

He looked around from his position on the ground and could see Sir Bradford yelling and pointing. He turned his head the other way and could see the soldiers firing back. He was completely unprepared for war – not the sounds, not the quickness, nor the intensity. His ears were ringing and he wondered if he would ever hear right again. Sigmund was dragged to his feet by Mills who was yelling – Sigmund couldn’t hear well but could read his lips – “Are you alright?”

Sigmund nodded and Mills patted him on the shoulder and gave a smile. Then they both turned to the battle. It was only a minute old, but unlike a fire that slowly builds its fury, this battle immediately started to rage like a furnace. The metal machines continued to fire their cannons every few seconds while the riflemen on the wall fired at will. Up and down the line of soldiers explosions rocked them, killing men with no remorse. The armored vehicles took the brunt and were still holding up, although they would be unlikely to drive again. One of the cannons took a direct hit and was in pieces with dead soldiers nearby. Sigmund felt sick. He had never seen death like this before – young men, healthy, wasted to war. Still, Sir Bradford’s army as a whole had weathered the opening salvos and quickly showed that it was not without teeth. Their cannons fired at the machines and the walls around the factory. Explosions erupted, sending pieces of brick and stone in all directions – death was visiting Grimkraken’s men too.