Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science (2 page)

Standing Bear had marveled to his young grandson Will that he
had lived long enough to fight the ‘metal demons’ from the sky during what the
white folk called the Martian War. It had been a fight to write songs of,
Standing Bear had said proudly. That was just before Standing Bear had died
from the horrible burns of the Invaders’ heat rays. He had been one of the few
to live even that long after those early battles of horses against the giant,
many legged war machines from the sky.

That was before the Spirit Walker Wovoka brought the Ghost
Dance to the Tribes, showing them that they must all fight together. Will’s
father and the rest of the First Peoples had embraced the Dance. Then they had
embraced the war science offered by the White Queen of Britain to fight the
invaders. The United Tribes had joined the Alliance of Nations and had fought
beside the people of many countries, across many lands. The Tribes had learned
the new ways of war.

On the battlefield, or in the sky, they became known by the
Ghost Dance war cry,
Ay Ay Yao
, the call to the spirits to fight beside
them. To judge by their victories, the spirits did. After the Alliance had
defeated the Invaders, the Ghost Warriors turned what they had learned against
the white governments of North America. In a short bloody war, they had pushed
not only both American governments, the Union and  the Confederacy, off their
lands and all the way back to the Great River of the Mississippi in the East,
but the British Empire as well, all the way to the Hudson’s Bay in the North.
Now, Will thought grimly, now Standing Bear’s
grandson,
William Hunting
Owl, was one of those metal demons from the sky.

Ay Ay Yao
, he snarled silently at the retreating dots
on the ground. You either learn or you die, he thought, but either way it will
never be the same for you. The ways of your forefathers will be no more.

Schooling his face to look more pleased than he felt, he
turned to face the bridge. The attackers were dead, his people were alive, and
that was all that really mattered. He issued orders crisply as he walked back
towards where Rogers stood.

“Come about, maintain elevation. I want to do a full circle
around that wreck before we go down. If there are any more goatherds with grown
up toys down there, let’s smoke them out. Naomi, phone Arms-Master Brighton
with my complements, and she’s to form a landing party. I will be joining
them.” He pulled down his goggles and opened his fleece lined vest as he came
to stand by his first officer.

Like most airdevils, he wore layers of mis-matched clothes
that could go on and off easily. Even electric heating grates couldn’t keep the
temperature uniform though out a ship
Wind Dancer’s
size as she moved
from the icy heights to close to the ground. Along with the vest, Will had a
personal fondness for the supple leather pants that Tribal airdevils wore tucked
into their ship boots. Without the spyglass that was holstered on his belt next
to his father’s old fifty caliber revolver, there was nothing to mark him as
Wind
Dancer’s
captain. Everyone wore a badge in the shape of the
Wind
Dancer’s
ensign, a woman dancing in the center of a circle, done in bright
brass. The only one aboard who wore anything close to a uniform was Lawrence
Rogers, who somehow was always dressed in black, as if he was still in the BAN,
the British Air Navy.

“That was a close one,” Will said quietly to Lawrence Rogers.
The former royal Navy officer nodded agreement.

“We were damned lucky,” Rogers agreed in a soft voice, his
pale blue eyes serious. Rogers rarely swore. “That Hotchkiss gunner likely
saved the ship.”

“Find out who was on that port Hotchkiss, Naomi.” Will turned
his head back to his talker, “Tell them they have a bonus coming.” She nodded
and spoke into her horn. Will turned back to his first officer. “I think that’s
only right don’t you?” He continued softly again.

“I believe I will give them a bottle myself,” Rogers nodded
in agreement. “Do we know who the attackers were?”

“They looked to be local tribesmen.” Will pulled absently on
one of the braids he had draped over a shoulder. “If they were, you know what
that could mean,” he concluded grimly.

“That means that someone is likely selling modern weapons to
the wild tribes up here.” Rogers looked equally grim upon hearing this. “They
won’t like hearing that in Calcutta,” he said, referring to the capitol of what
was now called ‘Free India’. The American tribes weren’t the only ones to fight
for their freedom after the war. India, once the ‘Jewel of the British Empire,’
was now divided in half. “Nor in Bombay for that matter,” Rogers continued,
referring to the capitol of British India.

“Captain,” Naomi said, raised her voice, “the port gun was
manned by Arms−Master Brighton. She acknowledges she is forming a landing
party, and quote, ‘what do you have in mind Captain?’ end quote,” Naomi
finished blandly. Will glanced at Rogers, seeing the older man’s face turn red
with suppressed anger.

“Well, looks like our resident witch has pulled off another
one,” he whispered to Rogers smiling. Everyone on the ship knew that the
flamboyant Arms-Master, Saira Brighton, and the disciplined First Officer
Rogers rubbed each other the wrong way. That both held unspoken respect for the
other’s ability, and total loyalty to William Hunting Owl, made it a matter of
amusement rather than tension for Will. Most of the time anyway, he reflected
wryly.

“That undisciplined little piece of baggage!” Rogers said
quietly between clenched teeth. “I don’t care if she’s the bloody wizard
Merlin, she was off station…”

“And she saved all of us,
Mr. Rogers
,” Will whispered
back firmly cutting him off. “I think that fact closes it.” Rogers brought
himself up short, and then nodded silently.

“Tell her she gets two special bottles tonight,” Will said to
Naomi. And that I will join the landing party presently.”

“Are you still thinking of going down there?” Rogers frowned.
Will shrugged.

“We have to satisfy the Company bean counters the wreck is the
Raja Goh if we’re to get paid.” He grinned at Rogers. “Besides I recall a
certain First Officer who was just complaining that we needed more money for
Hong Kong. The Company does pay well.”

“I am not sure that I shouldn’t view this new fiscal
responsibility with alarm,” he said dryly. He waved a hand “Never mind, you’re
right. I suppose that I simply dislike being the East India Company’s errand
boys.”

“Me too,” Will said seriously. “But we can wash our hands
afterwards. We can’t fail in Hong Kong. We’re closer than ever, Lawrence. I had
a Dream last night.”

Rogers pursed his lips and remained silent at that, hearing
the capitol ‘D’ in his captain’s voice. He’d seen a lot since joining with
William Hunting Owl that he couldn’t explain. William was one of the best
commanders he’d ever served with, despite his familiarity with the crew and his
Tribal ‘spirit ways’. Rogers didn’t care what the science boffins back home
said about ‘magic’ being real; it was still mumbo-jumbo to him. Wishful
thinking most of the time that merely got you killed so far as he was
concerned. Still, Will’s dreams had pointed the way for them in a manner that
Rogers couldn’t explain. At least the Captain was discreet with it, unlike
Brighton, whom Rogers found more challenging.

“Yes. Well, it would be useful if that ‘friend’ of yours
would finish the package, so that we could move on to Hong Kong soon,” Rogers
said to Will. “That way we could stop having to take these penny jobs just to
keep up appearances.” A fighting airship too long land docked for no apparent
reason would draw questions that they had worked five long years to keep from
being asked about their activities.

“He will Lawrence, he will,” Will reassured the older man. “I
believe that is the message from the dream.”

Will paused in talking as Michael McGuire raised his hand
silently to get his attention. Will walked over to the aether wave station. The
Wave operator held out a folded piece of paper. “Wave call for you Cap’n,” he
said in his soft Irish brogue. “I have them on standby.”

Will unfolded the paper, and looked at it. It had a single
word on it, ‘Mouse’. Will nodded.

“Thank you Michael,” he said as quietly. “Route it to my day
cabin if you please.”

He handed the paper off to Lawrence Rogers as he walked by.
“Speak of the devil,” Will breathed at Rogers in passing with a grin. The First
Officer glanced down to read the note, then looked up again without comment.

“Mr. Rogers, you have the bridge,” Will continued in a louder
voice.

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” he acknowledged formally, “I have the
bridge.” Rogers folded the paper into his closed fist.

“Oh, and Lawrence…” he called to his first officer, pausing
at his day cabin door.

“Captain?” Rogers replied quizzically.

“You really should see about keeping the bridge tidier,” Will
gestured at the broken cups and strewn papers on the deck. “I am surprised by
all this.” This pronouncement was greeted by a few discreet chuckles.

“Aye Aye Captain,” Rogers replied in his best deadpan voice,
knowing what his Captain was about. “I will be sure to schedule our next
near-death evasion for just before the duty cleaning.”

“Good man!” Will nodded in solemn satisfaction, seeming to
ignore the smothered laughter. “I have every confidence that you will. Carry
on.” The chuckles grew into guffaws from every corner of the bridge as their
tensions released.

Will entered his day cabin with a satisfied grin. As he
closed the door he heard Rogers call out gruffly, “All right you air devils, and
you’ve had your fun now! Mr. Walters…” The answering voices came sharp and
steady. Wills smile grew broader. He had remembered his father’s advice that a
boost to morale was more valuable than an extra Tesla engine.

Crossing to his desk, he collapsed in the chair, pulling out
his pipe from a drawer. He took a moment to kindle it alight, blowing smoke
towards the ceiling. He may not keep to all the ways of his forefathers, but he
could offer the tobacco smoke to the Spirits in thanks for their aid today. The
Wind Dancer was built in such a way that he needn’t worry about a stray spark.
After a moment of silent communion, he turned his attention to the call.
Holding his pipe in one hand, he turned the switch that opened the repeater on
his desk.

“Ready Michael,” he said. There were the usual clicks and hisses
as McGuire made the connections. Then a voice came from the small speaker grill
on the desk, tinny but clear.

“Are you there, old friend?” The voice asked. Will still had
a moments wonder at the thought of the voice of his ally coming to him live
from thousands of miles away. He shook his head in bemusement. Time to stop
woolgathering and pay attention. Will picked up the microphone that laid next
to the speaker.

“I am, old friend.” Will blew more smoke towards the ceiling
as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet on the desk before him. He
thumbed the microphone on again. “I’m afraid that you’ve waved at a rather bad
time though. What may I do for you?”

“Ah, I will be brief then.” The voice replied. “I am afraid
that the package that we were discussing as your introduction to the Chinese
Spider has been stolen.”

Will’s feet hit the deck as he sat upright. He removed the
pipe from his mouth as he leaned towards the speaker grill.

“How? When? I thought that it wouldn’t even be ready until
week’s end.”

“Just a few hours ago now,” the voice said. “I would rather
discuss the particulars in person. How quickly can you come to our meeting
place?”

“We have to finish our current business,” Will replied. He
calculated quickly in his head. “I’m sorry, not sooner than fifty hours.” Damn,
Will thought, they should never have taken this job. On the other hand, they
needed the money too much to sit in Calcutta for weeks. Besides, he reminded
himself, it would have looked too suspicious to be idle for so long. Still, if
they’d lost this chance to get in with the Asian underground, it would be a
hard set−back.

“That is much better than I had hoped.” The relief in the
voice over the Aetherwave was audible. “I have begun my own inquires but I must
be careful. You understand.” Will nodded, and then remembered that the other
couldn’t see him.

“I do,” he said into the mike. “Do you have any clues at
all?”

“None,” the voice replied unhappily. “Also, you should know
that a British Scholar, Lord Hadley, has been making inquiries in Hong Kong
that are coming too close to our Spider for comfort. The Spider is feeling very
uneasy. I have not told his people about the theft yet.”

Will cursed under his breath. That was all they needed, the
Spider becoming even more leery of foreigners.

“Understood” he said unhappily. “Any other good news?”

“Well, it is not raining yet,” the voice replied.

“That’s good,” Will smiled in spite of himself at their
shared joke. “I’ll see you in, oh, call it, sixty hours at the latest. Wave if
you learn anything else.” He paused, thinking if there was anything else he
could say. Not really. At least not over an open Aetherwave connection. McGuire
assured him that it would be difficult for anyone to listen in on Aetherwave
calls. Will noted that the Irishman never said it was impossible.

“Owl clear,” he said finally, in the traditional Aetherwave
call ending.

“Mouse clear,” the voice replied. There was the hiss as the
connection closed.

“I’m done, Michael.” Will spoke into his microphone. “Next
time ask before you listen in on one of my waves.”

“Uh, Aye Aye Sir,” came McGuire’s voice hesitantly from the
speaker grille. “I must have left the switch open by mistake.”

Will grinned to himself. That McGuire had been listening had
been purely a guess on his part. He knew about McGuire’s tapdancer past.
Generally a crew member’s past didn’t matter, but old habits die hard.