Read Online Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection by Michael Coorlim - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Coorlim
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paw."
" Nein ." Nussbaum shook his head. "I know my men, and cannot believe that any are capable of mass murder on such a scale."
"He won't know the implications of what he's done," I said. "Our investigation indicates that he's ignorant of the nature of the stabilizer – he's likely either been asked to steal or sabotage it by a third party, or hopes to sell it to one of Mr. Herbert's competitors."
"I still find it difficult to believe–" Nussbaum was interrupted by a whistle from the ship's communication tube. "Nussbaum here."
"Captain." Miller's nervous voice came through the ship's tube system. "We may have found something. The laundry room's been emptied."
"Emptied?"
"Completely. Not a scrap or skivvy left."
"Come along," Bartleby turned to me. "Let's have a look."
***
Bartleby stooped in the middle of the laundry-room's tiled floor, peering under the great industrial washing machines. Powered by the engine's generated steam using its run-off to wash with, their great spinning turbines were capable of accommodating the entire ship's complement of uniforms in a single load.
"See anything?" I asked.
"Blood." Bartleby stood. "Traces of it on the rim of the machine. Henderson's, no doubt, dripped from the killer or his uniform. This proves it – the killer is a crewman."
"What did he do with the rest of the clothing? And why?"
"Our killer probably doesn't know how to do a proper wash, which points to an officer as the culprit. Perhaps the blood stained all the uniforms in his load. He discovered this, wheeled the load out in a laundry trolley and dumped the lot overboard, disposing of enough to obfuscate his identity, I'd wager. That was the shift we felt. Wet laundry as ballast."
"Why does an inability to do the wash indicate an officer?"
"Trust me, James. I was an officer once. We're rather quite helpless." He almost stumbled as he crept to the hatch. "I say, James, we'd better hurry. The tilt is getting quite noticeable."
"It's been that way. You've just been wrapped up in your investigation. Missing the obvious. Am I that way when I'm in my workshop?"
"Oh no, James. You're far worse."
***
As we navigated our way through the increasingly askew corridors an alarm klaxon began to wail.
"They've decided to evacuate?" I asked.
"There would have been an announcement," Bartleby said. "Oh, there's the Chief."
Chief Miller was weaving almost drunkenly down the corridor, rivet gun in one hand and a wild look in his eyes. As he neared us I could see that his uniform had been torn and his nose bloodied.
"Mr. Bartleby! Mr. Wainwright!" he called, "Mutiny has broken out."
"Mutiny?" Bartleby asked.
Miller spat. "It seems that the passengers aren't quite as senseless and docile as Captain Nussbaum had hoped, and a delegation – lead by Ives and his pet Pinkerton – showed up at his cabin demanding answers."
"What did he tell them?" I asked.
"Oh, you know Germans. He dismissed them entirely and ordered them back to their cabins. Americans being Americans you can hazard a guess as to how well that went over."
"Oh dear."
"They're storming the vehicle bay, trying to take the aeroboat. That's where the captain and loyal crew have made their stand."
Bartleby gave me a long look and a sigh. "Very well. No avoiding it now, is there? I'll get my cane. James, go grab a spanner."
"I have a spanner." I always had a spanner.
***
Captain Nussbaum was in sorry shape when we arrived, leaning heavily against the ship's boat, blood pooling in his boots, but still maintaining a tight grip on his sabre. It was one of the few actual weapons allowed aboard the Rio Grande , likely a relic from the Captain's days in the German Air Corps, and I had no doubt that the man would sooner die than surrender it. Dewit had in his hand a long knife strapped to the handle of a broom, and the Chief still had the pneumatic rivet gun.
The other crewmembers loyal to the Captain had a variety of makeshift weapons –
" Nein ." Nussbaum shook his head. "I know my men, and cannot believe that any are capable of mass murder on such a scale."
"He won't know the implications of what he's done," I said. "Our investigation indicates that he's ignorant of the nature of the stabilizer – he's likely either been asked to steal or sabotage it by a third party, or hopes to sell it to one of Mr. Herbert's competitors."
"I still find it difficult to believe–" Nussbaum was interrupted by a whistle from the ship's communication tube. "Nussbaum here."
"Captain." Miller's nervous voice came through the ship's tube system. "We may have found something. The laundry room's been emptied."
"Emptied?"
"Completely. Not a scrap or skivvy left."
"Come along," Bartleby turned to me. "Let's have a look."
***
Bartleby stooped in the middle of the laundry-room's tiled floor, peering under the great industrial washing machines. Powered by the engine's generated steam using its run-off to wash with, their great spinning turbines were capable of accommodating the entire ship's complement of uniforms in a single load.
"See anything?" I asked.
"Blood." Bartleby stood. "Traces of it on the rim of the machine. Henderson's, no doubt, dripped from the killer or his uniform. This proves it – the killer is a crewman."
"What did he do with the rest of the clothing? And why?"
"Our killer probably doesn't know how to do a proper wash, which points to an officer as the culprit. Perhaps the blood stained all the uniforms in his load. He discovered this, wheeled the load out in a laundry trolley and dumped the lot overboard, disposing of enough to obfuscate his identity, I'd wager. That was the shift we felt. Wet laundry as ballast."
"Why does an inability to do the wash indicate an officer?"
"Trust me, James. I was an officer once. We're rather quite helpless." He almost stumbled as he crept to the hatch. "I say, James, we'd better hurry. The tilt is getting quite noticeable."
"It's been that way. You've just been wrapped up in your investigation. Missing the obvious. Am I that way when I'm in my workshop?"
"Oh no, James. You're far worse."
***
As we navigated our way through the increasingly askew corridors an alarm klaxon began to wail.
"They've decided to evacuate?" I asked.
"There would have been an announcement," Bartleby said. "Oh, there's the Chief."
Chief Miller was weaving almost drunkenly down the corridor, rivet gun in one hand and a wild look in his eyes. As he neared us I could see that his uniform had been torn and his nose bloodied.
"Mr. Bartleby! Mr. Wainwright!" he called, "Mutiny has broken out."
"Mutiny?" Bartleby asked.
Miller spat. "It seems that the passengers aren't quite as senseless and docile as Captain Nussbaum had hoped, and a delegation – lead by Ives and his pet Pinkerton – showed up at his cabin demanding answers."
"What did he tell them?" I asked.
"Oh, you know Germans. He dismissed them entirely and ordered them back to their cabins. Americans being Americans you can hazard a guess as to how well that went over."
"Oh dear."
"They're storming the vehicle bay, trying to take the aeroboat. That's where the captain and loyal crew have made their stand."
Bartleby gave me a long look and a sigh. "Very well. No avoiding it now, is there? I'll get my cane. James, go grab a spanner."
"I have a spanner." I always had a spanner.
***
Captain Nussbaum was in sorry shape when we arrived, leaning heavily against the ship's boat, blood pooling in his boots, but still maintaining a tight grip on his sabre. It was one of the few actual weapons allowed aboard the Rio Grande , likely a relic from the Captain's days in the German Air Corps, and I had no doubt that the man would sooner die than surrender it. Dewit had in his hand a long knife strapped to the handle of a broom, and the Chief still had the pneumatic rivet gun.
The other crewmembers loyal to the Captain had a variety of makeshift weapons –
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