Steemjammer: The Deeper Truth (7 page)

Will wondered what it would be like playing a game of Steemball inside one of those heavy, tank-like contraptions. He reflected how back on Old Earth people went crazy over games where players put little balls in holes or hoops – or tagged other players with them. Here, the main sport involved teams of battle-ready war-wagons fighting over a
one-ton sphere of bronze
. Now that was a game he could get into.

“That isn’t where the tournament will be, is it?” Giselle said.

“No,” Cobee said. “That’s just a practice area. The main Steemball field’s across the street from the Steem Museum.” He glanced down. “Seems they’re having mechanical problems.”

A white flag popped out of the top of the first steemtrap, and crew members got out of each to open service hatches and try to figure out what was wrong with the vehicle. Nearby, the kids saw another larger steemtrap that looked more heavily armored and had a powerful crane.

“That’s for picking up the ball?” Will said.

“Ya,” Cobee said. “That’s a carrier or ball-carrier. It’s got to lift and haul one ton of bronze back to its starting area to score.”

They flew along on the Hemel Snoor so fast that the practice field went out of view.

“They’re in trouble,” Cobee sighed, “if they’re having problems like that so close to the tournament.”

“Verdoor,” Will said, remembering something. “I was going to fill you in on what happened to me.”

“We’re not there yet,” Giselle said. “Go on.”

Before the events at Texel, he simply would have told them everything, but now he found himself weighing in his mind which parts to reveal or not. Clearly, something had changed within him, but he put off his worries and forced himself to start talking. He began with what he remembered after his legs stopped working in the dark warehouse, when Bram and his bodyguard, Lockwood, found him.

Before long, a loud clanking sound signaled they’d been transferred off the main line, and they felt themselves being shoved forward against the lap-bar as their chair decelerated to a cable that lead down to a station house near the Steem Museum. Will had only gotten to the point where he’d woken up under interrogation.

“You can’t leave us hanging like this,” Giselle said.

“I won’t,” Will said. “We’re getting off.”

“Don’t joke. How could you have possibly survived?”

“Obviously, I did.”

She made a face.

“All right, I’ll try.”

Before he could explain much, they entered the station, which for some reason had a horse racing theme. A man in a lilac colored jockey uniform brought their chair to a stop, lifted up the lap-bar, and motioned that they should hurry. Even with all the noise, Will couldn’t risk telling them more.

He really wanted to get to the Steem Museum and find out what Donell and Tante Stefana had in store for him, but the others wanted to find a place where he could finish the story. He got them to go with him by promising he’d do so by the end of the day. They crossed the street and entered the Steem Museum’s noisy, high-ceilinged lobby.

Chapter 6

THE FAMILY TRADITION

“About time ye got here,” Donell said, coming over and leading them quickly toward his office.

When they got in a hallway where it was safe to talk, he asked Will what he’d told the others about his ordeal in Texel. He seemed very worried about this.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Will said. “I’ve explained parts, but there really hasn’t been time.”

“Well, goot.” Donell faced the others. “Listen, ye don’t need tah know everything right now.” He put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “This young man has a job tah do, and only he can do it, alone.”

From the frightened look on Angelica’s face, Donell realized he had to say more.

“Nay, lass, he’s not goin’ back tah that horrid place,” he explained sympathetically. “There’ll be no danger, I promise, and ye’ll see him soon, safe and sound. Ye have tah trust me on this.”

Will knew what Donell was attempting, but it frustrated him.

“It’s not right, Donell,” he argued. “Our parents withheld information from us, and that didn’t go well at all. I know what Angelica and the others feel like, being kept in the dark, and I can’t be a part of it.”

Donell sighed. “Ye said yerself there’s been no time. Will, o’ course ye’ll fill them in, but it’s already Wednesday, and I have no sense of how long your task will take. Ye’ve got tah get on it, now, and they can only help by trustin’ me and lettin’ ye go.”

Reluctantly, Giselle and Cobee nodded. With a brave face, Angelica stepped up and took Will’s hand in hers.

“Promise you’ll be safe?” she said.

“Yes,” Will said, hugging her. “Donell will be close and step in if anything goes wrong, right?”

“Everything will be fine,” the short man assured. “Now get movin’, ye kids. We have tah get crackin’.”

Giselle and Cobee were good sports and started to go, but Angelica hesitated. Will found it heartbreaking as he realized, unless their parents could miraculously be found, he was the only member of her immediate family left. To her credit, she found her strength, gave him an assuring nod, and followed the others down the hallway.

“Lad, do ye understand?” he heard Donell saying a moment later, realizing he hadn’t been able to concentrate on something the short man had been trying to explain.

“No,” Will said. “I wasn’t listening, sorry.”

“Are ye all right?”

“Fine. Got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Fair enough.” Donell gave him a slip of paper. “This is a map. Take Bram here, and see what happens.”

“‘See what happens?’”

“Yer Auntie Stef said tah keep ye from havin’ tah mislead as much as possible. Och!”

He turned his head to cough violently.

“Honestly,” he continued, “this honesty thing – I’ve never understood it. Trickery’s a part o’ life! The great Greek heroes from Old Earth were known for their ability tah use sneakiness tah win.”

“I know,” Will admitted. “I remember in home schooling, neither of my parents could explain that, how they were great heroes but also liars.”

“Liars? Och, tha’s such a strong word, lad. Look, suppose ye hide from a monster? Aren’t ye misleadin’ it intah thinkin’ yer not there? Is that really lyin’, and if it is, how is hidin’ from certain death wrong?”

“I asked my dad a similar question,” Will admitted. “His answer made no sense.”

“He said not tah hide? Tah get eaten?”

“He said to hide but always keep in mind the deeper truth.”

Donell blinked. “Huh?”

“See? There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t talk about that - deeper truth.”

Wincing, the short man scratched his face. “If there’s different forms of truth, what’s a lie?”

“My cousin, Giselle, wonders the same thing.”

“Yer not bein’ too helpful, lad.”

“I know. He never said what deeper truth was. I guess he somehow expected us to magically get it.

“I realize now why my parents hid our background from us – and why we all tried to hide our steem contraptions from the others on Old Earth. Maybe it also harmed us. After all, how many years did it take him to rebuild the verltgaat machine?”

Donell sighed. “Yer Auntie Stef told me something’s botherin’ ye greatly, that ye had tah lie to escape those verminous Raz. Now I’m startin’ tah make sense o’ it.

“Will, how is lyin’ tah the Raz bad? They’re evil. You beat evil any way ye can, like fightin’ fire with fire. That’s good, isn’t it?”

A number of thoughts tangled in Will’s mind, with the exception of an answer he found satisfying. Evil was never good, or so he felt strongly. Then, how could he explain what he’d done?

“Look,” Donell pressed, “if yer own father misled ye and yer sister tah keep ye safe, how could it be wrong tah lie tah the Raz? They’d kill ye as soon as wink!”

The conflicting thoughts seemed to tighten in Will’s mind until he felt he had to say something or burst.

“It’s not just a lie,” he blurted. “It’s worse. I denied my name.”

The short man’s brows furrowed with concern. “Och, now I see.” He took a moment before proceeding delicately. “Ye fear this somehow has caused ye harm?”

Will nodded.

“Well now, lad,” Donell said, wrinkling his face as he pushed his brain for insight, “this is beyond mah ken.”
Understanding
. Then, his eyes brightened. “What’s done is done, aye? Water o’er the mill wheel, as yer grandfather used tah say. So, damaged or not, wouldn’t ye feel better if ye could strike back at those Raz scum?”

At first, Will’s only thought was “how?” How could he be of any use against their enemies if his goot steem was ruined? But Donell’s words stirred something inside him, and he a feeling of vigor stirred inside his body.

“Yeah,” he said.

Donell clamped his shoulder. “All right, then. Will, there’s no dishonor in survivin’. Quite the opposite. Ye’ve done somethin’ no one else ever has. Ye not only got out o’ that foul pit in one piece, ye’ve earned the confidence of a major Rasmussen, the son and heir to their verminous High Blood-Sucker, Zander!”

Will sighed, realizing where this was leading. “Great, more lying.”

“I thought ye wanted tah hit back! Look, ye Steemjammers could afford tah be all principled back when ye held yer main workshop, but when tha’ fell, ye came upon hard times. Ye dinna have that luxury anymore. Can’t ye see? We need tah take advantage o’ this situation while we can.”

Will looked away, thinking. “I already lied to save my life, so what would another matter?”

“Nay, lad. Ye did what ye had tah do, not only tah save yer own hide, which was worthy enough, but tah save much more. Have ye already forgotten? If the Raz put ye tah openin’ world holes, all o’ Beverkenverlt would fall under their stinkin’ bootheels!”

Will felt a little better. “What do you have in mind?”

“Tha’s more like it,” Donell grinned, tapping the piece of paper in Will’s hand. “I stayed up most o’ the night workin’ out this wee bit o’ trickery. Tah be safe, it’ll come to ye as a surprise. Whatever happens, go along with it, but take a deep breath and think before ye react. Do ye follow me?”

Will felt his heart pounding. He nodded, even though he was more torn than ever. Again, a grown-up was refusing to tell him what was really going on, but he felt he had no choice but to trust him.

“Good,” Donell said. “Oh, ye’ll be needin’ a clue, too. Third hangar. Remember tha’.”

***

Peering through a gap in the junk blocking the front door of Beverkenhaas, Marteenus also felt his heart beating, like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest. He feared the Shadovecht lurking somewhere behind him, but at least he’d just found the source of the frightening noise. A humorless-looking woman with some sort of badge in her hand stood on the other side of the clutter that filled the front doorway, knocking on it.

She wore a gray dress, and her long hair was stretched back into a tight bun on her head. He knew by her dark skin that she had African heritage, whatever “Africa” was. On Beverkenverlt, there were people who looked like her, but being different-looking there meant little. He’d discovered here on Old Earth that looking dissimilar - having a different skin color or strange hair – could be an issue with certain people.

Then, her badge caught his eye. Though he understood little of Old Earth’s customs, he knew that breaking into other peoples’ houses was a “crime” punishable by being put in a fortress-like dungeon for months or even years. Merely possessing a stolen pistol, like the one in his pocket, could get him locked up. Hiding it in a drawer, he stepped up to where she could see him through the gap.

“This is private property,” he said, hoping she’d leave.

The health inspector, Jane Gables, was undaunted. “Are you the childrens’ father or legal guardian?”

“What?”

She repeated herself.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m their uncle, Martin.”

It was how he called himself here, having learned that people on this planet found Marteenus a peculiar name.

She slanted her eyes, trying to peer inside the house. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine. Wonderful. We had a little – well, the thing is...”

“Something blasted through your front door.”

“A slight vehicular mishap. No real damage.”

“No real damage? It looks like a tornado hit.”

“They’re taking care of it, my brother and the family. They’re looking for someone to, um, fix it.”

“That’s a Building and Safety issue, anyway. I’m here about a missing inspection.”

A noise came from within Beverkenhaas, causing Marteenus to jump with fright. He scurried through the gap in the clutter and crawled around to hide behind Jane.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

He wasn’t sure, save that if a Shadovecht was coming, it might pause long enough to take her out and let him escape. When he realized no such event was happening, he stood up, dusting off his clothing while attempting to salvage his dignity.

“Nothing,” he said, forcing a laugh. “I’m very excitable. They say I make people nervous.”

“Look,” she said sternly, “this house has a water well problem.” She handed him a folder full of papers. “See that the owners get this, and have them call or write me as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Marteenus said, taking the folder, happy that she seemed about to leave.

She started to go but found herself giving his strange hair a severe looking over. “You do realize there are products for that, don’t you?”

“
Products
?”

“Relaxers, gels, and so on.”

His face twisted with confusion, and he absent-mindedly patted the buttons on his brightly colored coat. “There’s something I should
sew on
– to relax?”

“Never mind, sir,” she said, giving up and heading to her car. “Have a nice day.”

***

“That’s it?” Waverly Norman pouted. “No handcuffs? A folder of papers, and she’s driving away?”

Ron was gone, having taken her mother to a medical checkup, so she’d risked coming out of the basement. Through a window she’d watched the health inspector confront this odd new character who’d appeared across the street - a short man in green with even stranger hair than the others. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth and started to go give them a piece of her mind. Then, she recalled the vicious purple creatures and hesitated.

Had that been real? Up until today she’d been convinced of her husband’s preposterous story, but now she wasn’t so sure. Since when, she asked herself, did men from other planets have hair that stuck out to the side? She headed back to the basement for now, but if she didn’t see convincing proof soon that these really were space aliens, she was going to take action.

Something caught her eye, and she glanced out the window before descending the steps. Was it her imagination, she wondered, or was that preposterous igloo starting to melt?

***

Unnerved by the health inspector’s appearance, Marteenus decided against searching the secret room with the pit for now. It was probably just a trap, he told himself. Recovering the pistol, he went back to the basement to see if he could find a hidden panel, instead.

“Aha!” he said gleefully after checking the wall near the boiler, and his knuckles rapped on a hollow spot.

He tugged on objects and pressed anything that might serve as a secret button. Distracted, he didn’t notice a subtle clicking sound. A panel opened. THWUNK! A heavy, double-bladed axe came falling out of the hidden compartment and chopped off the tip of his shoe.

He screamed. Standing there terrified with his eyes pressed shut, he wasn’t sure if he could feel his foot or not. Daring to look, he saw to his relief that his toes were all intact. Whether this had been a deliberate trap or just a carelessly placed weapon, Beverkenhaas was
dangerous
.