Steemjammer: The Deeper Truth (6 page)

***

That afternoon on the cable car ride back to Tante Klazee’s, they saw workmen hanging large banners on buildings and lamp posts about the upcoming Steemball tournament. Cobee looked disappointed but managed not to say anything about it.

“How’s Alfonz doing?” Will asked. “Is he going crazy yet from being cooped up in the house?”

Will wasn’t quite sure how they were related to Alfonz Zeldemthoos, the family’s mailman back on Old Earth, save that they seemed to be distant cousins. He had a condition that made it hard for him to stay in one place very long, but he’d been trying to resist his vaanderloos or wanderlust and hang out in case they needed him.

“He’s been gone since the day they took you to Texel,” Giselle said. “He told Tante Klazee he’d be back Thursday morning at the latest.”

When the verltgaat was supposed to open, Will couldn’t help thinking.

“He hasn’t even dropped by?” Will said. “I’m not sure I understand his vaanderloos, but I’d think he could at least do that.”

“He may have gone looking for you,” Cobee said, “or trying to find some way to help you.”

Will wondered if something had happened to him – if he’d been captured by the Rasmussens. More passengers were boarding the cable car and coming up to the upper deck, however, so it wasn’t safe to ask. They had to stay relatively quiet the rest of the way. When they got off and approached Cobee’s house, an amazing aroma of cooked food wafted down the street and made most of his worries vanish.

Their Tante Klazee – really a great aunt – opened the front door before they could knock and ushered them inside. She was a little heavy, with eyes that were made large and owl-like by round-framed metal glasses, and her white hair stood straight up. A calico apron was tied around her simple blue dress. The moment her door closed, she wrapped Will tightly in her arms.

“Wilhelmus Anselm Steemjammer,” she said, letting go and stepping back to admire him, “tegen alle hoep, oo keert terung!”
Against all hope, you return
!

She gave him another overpowering hug before showing them to the dining room.

“When I heard the goot news,” Tante Klazee said apologetically, “I wanted to make a feast to celebrate, but with Raz agents snooping around, it seemed too risky.”

“It’s all right, Tante Klazee,” Will said happily. “Every night’s a feast at your house.”

She smiled warmly at the complement and began bringing out food, starting as usual with a large tureen of snert, or split-pea soup, followed by butter-seared salmon and a perfectly browned beef pie called draadjesvlees. Also, she served kaspraak, a casserole of mashed potatoes with so much Gouda cheese melted in that it was yellow. Finding his appetite had returned, Will filled his plate and even managed to eat the stamppot mit rookwurst,
mashed vegetables with smoked sausage
, which tasted a lot better than it smelled.

For dessert, Klazee served slemp, the warm, spicy milk drink that was like hot cocoa, and a platter of mixed berries, some originating from earth and some native to Beverkenverlt. Instead of a cake, she’d fried some light, crepe-like pancakes and stacked them high, filling each layer with hazelnut cream and smearing the outside with a honey-flavored icing. Topped with whipped cream, it was incredible.

When Will said it was the best thing he’d ever eaten, Klazee came over and almost smothered him with a hug that, if anything, had been even more crushing than the ones he’d received earlier.

“I’m zo glad you’re back,” she said, finally letting go. “We were worried, Wilhelmus. Zo worried.”

He looked at their faces and could see the anguish his disappearance had put them through. His sister, who’d been having trouble with her emotions all day, looked very upset. At last she couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“I don’t get it,” she said angrily. “We were told to wait in the steemwagon. If they hadn’t disobeyed, nothing would have happened.”

A troubled silence filled the room.

“Angelica,” Will said delicately, “you’re right, except for one thing none of us planned on. I was dying.”

Klazee, who’d just returned from the kitchen with her bottle of remedy and a large spoon, looked baffled. She’d assumed he’d need another dose. Horror crossed her face as he explained the terrible new Rasmussen concoction that converted their remedy into a deadly toxin.

“I was killing you, then,” she said aghast.

“No, Tante Klazee,” Will said. “I had to take that to survive its first attack. What’s really strange is that the only thing that could have saved me from the second poison was disobeying orders and getting caught. Bram and the Rasmussens were the only ones who could have stopped my death.”

Giselle frowned. “That makes no sense. Why would they save you?”

“Because they wanted to question me. When they decided I was only Will Stevens, they let me go.”

Again, a huge surge of guilt hit him for withholding large parts of the story.

“More lying!” Angelica complained. “She’s right. It makes no sense at all. We were taught to obey and always tell the truth.

“Now you’re saying that being bad and telling lies is good. I’m glad you lived, but I can’t make sense of this. It’s totally begekkin!”

“No,” Will explained. “I never said it was good. I don’t really know how to explain my feelings, except that in this case, I did the only thing I could do. Now I can see how difficult this is for all of you, and I’m sorry. If I could only explain how much this hurts me...”

He let his words trail off, and silence settled over the table. Though none truly understood what he meant, they could sense his anguish and empathized. Angelica, however, took little comfort from his explanation and continued to brood.

Gustaavus, who’d felt well enough to join them at the table, studied her. Their home on Old Earth, Beverkenhaas, was filled with garden gnomes. One, however, had turned out to actually be alive. Gus had helped them survive a Shadovecht attack, and after bringing him back to his native Beverkenverlt, they found out he’d been suffering on Old Earth, needing to remain still most of the time to preserve his health.

His tiny goggles were pushed back on his little red cap. Gnomes apparently didn’t eat human food, and Will thought he’d seen him nibbling on a native berry stem and what looked like a small rock. Though he still seemed fairly weak, Gus climbed from his seat – a stack of books on a chair - onto the table and put a sympathetic hand on the little girl’s cheek.

“Difficult, it is,” he said softly, “when believing one thing but doing another must. Very difficult.”

Hot tears of shame and frustration ran down her cheeks. Unable to take any more, Angelica left the table and ran up the stairs.

After a moment of silence, Klazee said, “Give her some time. I’ll see to her later on.”

They went back to their desserts, but only Cobee asked for seconds. The event had reminded Will of the stress they were under. If the verltgaat didn’t open on Thursday - if Marteenus got into Beverkenhaas, or if there was no backup fuel system - they’d be stuck and at the mercy of their enemies.

“Please,” Will thought, “let my family have enough goot steem left to get through this. Let the world hole open on Thursday!”

Chapter 5

DE HEMEL SNOOR

“At last,” Marteenus whispered giddily to himself, “I’ve done it! I’m inside his house!”

He’d tried breaking in the night before, but the darkness had put him so badly on edge that he had to run back to the safety of his airship. It was late Wednesday morning, and the teenage girl he’d dubbed an Amazon had left with milk and eggs. In the bright light of day, he’d found enough courage to loosen the junk blocking the front entrance and crawl in.

With every step he anticipated finding the verltgaat machine and his way home. Still, each creak of the floorboards made him jump with fright. The smokestack had been smokeless for some time, he reminded himself. There was no Henry, and the Amazon had left.

Going straight to the basement, he’d found that the firebox under the boiler was stone cold and filled with ash. The automatic log-feeding racks were empty. Good, he thought. That was more evidence that Henry was gone.

But nothing of interest caught his eye. He only saw old tools, junk, and the boiler - no sign of verltgaat technology. Back upstairs, he saw a smashed table, claw marks in the wall, and other signs that a considerable melee had happened here recently. In the library, he gaped as he discovered the hole in the wall that Will had made.

“A secret room!” Marteenus said to himself. “This may be easier than I’d thought.”

With only the dim light of a brass lantern, he peered into the room on the other side of the hole and saw a pit. So, he thought, there were traps. Taking out a stick, he poked around in the darkness for tripwires.

“This is why a nighttime search was a bad idea,” he muttered nervously. “Can’t see their nasty tricks.”

After more cautious searching, certain details came together in his mind.

“Someone bashed out the wall,” he reasoned aloud. “Furniture destroyed. Slash marks. An obvious fight. The pit has already been triggered. I should be safe.”

Still, it took another minute to get the nerve to squeeze through the hole into the small room. As he studied the dusty pipes and table, he wondered what its purpose was. Because it had been shut, he didn’t notice the way to the sub-basement, but he could see the pit, which had had its trapdoor torn off. Then, as he neared the pit, a terrible sensation gnawed at him.

Fear, he realized. He hadn’t felt this kind of overwhelming dread in eleven years. Scurrying through the hole back into the library, he had to calm himself until the terror left his mind.

“Shadovecht?” he said, trembling. “How could this be?”

A sudden loud, sharp noise caused him to scream in an embarrassingly high pitch.

***

On Wednesday morning, the Steemjammer kids and Cobee headed off to the Steem Museum like earlier, save that Angelica, who’d remained moody since the night before, spoke very little. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast, even though Tante Klazee had made her favorite: pofferjees. Will couldn’t worry too much about her because he thought he saw someone spying on them at every turn.

“I have so much to tell you,” Will said quietly, “but I can’t with people following us.”

“I’ve seen them, too,” Cobee said. “I’m pretty sure they’re Donell’s people, protecting us.”

“We can’t take that chance,” Giselle said.

“Right,” Will said. “Also, it’s hard to talk on the cable car because people come up and sit near us.”

Cobee stopped, putting his hand in a pocket. The others paused and looked back at him.

“Well,” Cobee mused cryptically, “I have enough money.”

“For what?” Giselle asked.

“The Hemel Snoor.”

“The what?” Will said.

“The Heaven Cable?” Giselle attempted to translate.

“The Sky Line,” Cobee corrected.

Giselle made a face as she realized what he meant. “Wait, that crazy thing up in the air? You actually want us to
ride
that?”

“Why not? We’d be able to say anything we want. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Safe?” Angelica said worriedly. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” Cobee said, heading off in another direction. “It’ll be fun!”

***

Back on Old Earth, Will had seen pictures of chairlifts going up mountains at ski resorts, but he’d never imagined he’d ever ride one. They followed Cobee, who enthusiastically led them to a station house fashioned like a steep-roofed Swiss chalet. High above them, a network of metal towers held a pair of cables with dangling seats. They shot by in either direction at a high rate of speed, taking riders to various places in the city. Before the Steemjammer kids could complain, Cobee’d already handed over oddly shaped copper coins, buying them all tickets.

“It only looks scary from down here,” he said. “We’ll get to the Museum way faster. Come on.”

Getting in a short line, they soon found themselves ushered forward by a muscular man in lederhosen who had a brushy blue moustache. They hesitated.

“Vershneelen,” he urged.
Hurry
. “You’re holding up the others.”

Before Will could suggest that the people behind them could go ahead, Cobee led them to a bench-like seat that dangled from a steel cable. Things were happening so fast that they sat down in spite of their misgivings. The man attached a red plaque over their heads and snapped a bar across their laps. Then, a burly woman in an alpine dress tugged a lever. The kids were pushed into the chair-back as they shot forward and went up a steep climb into bright sunlight.

“What if we fall out?” Angelica said, gripping the lap bar so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Don’t,” Cobee advised.

Giselle tried not to look down as they soared higher and higher. “I thought you said this was safe.”

“It is.”

“Why aren’t there safety nets?”

“If you don’t fall out, why would you need them? Look, it’s been almost a year since anyone gestoorven.”

“
Died
?” Will translated, trying not to sound alarmed.

Cobee looked them over and only now realized how scared they were. “Let me guess, they don’t have stuff like this on Old Earth.”

“Sort of,” Giselle said, “but we could never ride them.”

“I see,” Cobee said. “Anyway, the last people to die were a couple of trouble-makers. The Oottenbroek brothers.”

She squinted incredulously. “Oottenbroek? Their last name means ‘out of his pants?’”

“That is their name, ya. Or was.”

“Doesn’t Frog’s last name mean ‘naked born?’” said Angelica, who’d become less moody. “And I think Alfonz’s name, Zeldemthoos, means ‘seldom home.’”

“Clyve dueled a man named Zeepvat,” Will added, “which means ‘soap barrel,’ if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well, ya,” Cobee said, “some of our names are a little strange. They say back on Old Earth, the empire went around Holland demanding everyone’s names for a list. Some people didn’t like it, and because the empire’s clerks didn’t speak Dutch, they gave ridiculous names. Little did they know it would become law, and the names would stick.”

“Even here?” Giselle said.

“Well, by this point silly names had become a source of pride. Or tradition. We hardly notice them.”

“You were talking about those pants-less brothers who died,” Will said.

“Ya, the Oottenbroeks. There isn’t much to say, except that they got what was coming to them.”

Giselle arched an eyebrow. “You almost sound happy about it.”

“Not happy. They wanted to know what it felt like to fly. So they hid harnesses under their coats, and when they got up on the Hemel Snoor, they tied themselves onto the seat with pieces of rope and dangled underneath. It must have been a lot of fun, zooming around New Amsterdam like birds, until the wall.”

Will cringed. “The wall?”

“Ya,” Cobee said. “There’s a place where the distance between the Hemel Snoor and a high brick wall is not so great. Anyway, Max and Maurice Oottenbroek found out what it feels like to be a fly when the swatter comes down.”

“That’s horrible!” Angelica said.

“Of course it is,” Cobee agreed, “but it was their fault - and their fault alone. Don’t dangle from a rope, and you’ll be fine.”

They’d been steadily climbing toward a high, thin metal tower, where the main transit lines ran. Other chairs whooshed by at very high speed. An operator with droopy eyes sat in a tiny pod-like booth on the tower, looking bored. He jerked a lever, and they were launched with a sudden burst of speed onto the main cable.

“Just like Donell’s train,” Angelica groaned, “only we’re a hundred feet in the air!”

“Think about skirlberries,” Giselle told her. “You said just imagining their taste helped you.”

She did, and she managed not to get sick. They flew along over the canals, houses, churches and workshops. Gradually their fear lessened, and they relaxed enough to enjoy the wonderful view of New Amsterdam. They could see a great river over at the city’s edge, but then they noticed dark, brooding clouds bunching overhead. Big fat drops of water started coming down, making them wish they’d brought raincoats.

“Oh great,” Will grumbled. “Lightning!”

“Huh?” said Cobee.

“Lightning. You know? Zap and you’re cooked!”

“Zap?”

Will made a face. Was everyone here crazy?

“Oh,” he said, remembering something. “Electricity really doesn’t work here?”

“I’ve heard them talk about this thing,” Cobee said. “It ‘zaps,’ you say?”

“On Old Earth, yeah. It comes down from the clouds with enough energy to kill. But it also makes nice lights in houses.”

“Zonderlink!”
Weird
!

“You really don’t have electricity here?”

Cobee shrugged.

“There has to be,” Giselle said. “Our nerve cells use it to think and tell our bodies what to do.”

“Yeah, there must be some,” Will agreed, “but not like on Old Earth. Electricity’s pretty weird there. When the air’s dry, they can rub wool, and the static makes their hair stick up. But it doesn’t work on Giselle or me.”

Cobee started to make a joke about Angelica getting too much static but stopped, because at the moment her hair wasn’t sticking up. It shot straight back from the strong wind of their motion.

“What’s that?” she said, pointing ahead.

They approached a junction where the lines branched.

“A switcher,” Cobee answered. “Red Line to the left. Purple line goes right.”

A bored looking lady sitting in a pod saw the red placard above their heads. She threw a lever, and they were shifted to the left. Cobee explained they were now heading to the Steem Museum on the Red Line. Soon the rain drops, which had only been falling sparsely, stopped, and they found they hadn’t even gotten damp.

Will realized he actually liked zooming along above the city. The roar of wind in his face was exhilarating. Other riders going the opposite way, however, seemed disinterested, though many wore goggles to shield their eyes. Some calmly read books, using thin metal clamps to hold the pages down in the rushing air, while others knitted. One bearded man whittled a stick with a pocketknife. Will didn’t think he could ever get that used to the Hemel Snoor.

Glancing down, he saw a zoo. He recognized giraffes, polar bears, and Koonen-Krugen penguins in an ice-ringed pond. He nudged Angie-bee, who smiled as she saw them. A tinge of home-sickness throbbed in his chest. Thinking about Toory and Clemmie back in their igloo in Beverkenhaas, he hoped that the over-imaginative man next door had gotten his sister’s note and was feeding them.

A large gray animal in a big pen caught his eye. It reminded him of a tall, long-legged, elephant-sized rhino that had sharp horns not only on its nose but also coming out its head, shoulders and hips. Instead of being rounded, the horns were hexagonal in their cross-sections. The beast had to be native to Beverkenverlt, he decided. It had an odd lump of skin on its back, which made him think of the leather couch in his living room. It must have been made from the hide of one of these creatures.

The Hemel Snoor sped them quickly on. Way off to the side, he saw the cable car moving slowly up a street. The chairlift route was going way out of the way, but it was so fast it didn’t matter. He could see the Steem Museum in the distance. They’d be there in a few minutes.

“Look,” Cobee pointed excitedly. “They’re practicing for the tournament.”

Below them, a dented, metal-armored steemtrap on treads putted across a grassy field, with black exhaust pouring out its smokestack. From the side came another steemtrap on solid rubber wheels. With puffs of white vapor, they maneuvered, each trying to get to a point where it could pound on the other without being counter-attacked. Their front-mounted crushers - fist-like, steam-powered rams - looked quite intimidating.