Showing posts with label Steampunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steampunk. Show all posts

Friday, 2 December 2011

Thirty-First Friday Flash: Aether Gilileo




(Image Source)

Brünhilda looked down at the landscape as it drifted by down below, the wind blowing through her long gray hair. It felt refreshing.

Her cat Zeplin leaped up onto the rail, Brünhilda swept away her morning coffee just in time.

“Not today my furry little friend!” she said scratching behind his ears. “I would love to stay and chat, but we had better get to work.”

Today, a village just over the mountain was in need of some rain, and it was her job to take it to them.

Plopping behind the controls she guided the ship higher. Her airship's tiny, but powerful motors responding nicely. Zeplin took up the seat next to her, Bob's old spot.

“Things were easier when Bob was around, but I do appreciate your company.. Ah there's a suitable cloud, a bit too large, but we don't have time to mess around.”

Gliding into position above the cloud she pulled the lever beside her seat, the cloud hitcher lowered, a long thin and perforated silver bar that ran along the length of her airship Aether Gilileo.

Meow.

“Your instincts are correct, we are just about centre.”

Brünhilda pushed a button on top of the lever. Nozzles along the silver bar began to spray a special formula that bonded the cloud to the cloud hitcher, freezing it just enough so that it would stick to the bar. The airship began to sink as the cloud got heavier.

The engines whined and complained under the extra weight. Brünhilda applied more power.

“Come old girl, keep it together!”

Zeplin meowed again.

“Yes, that should do it. Let's go give a little rain to the fine people of Claytonville.”

Brünhilda pushed Aether Gilileo to the limit as she tried to make her deadline. Finally clearing the mountains Brünhilda and her ship ran into a raging storm, which wasn't possible, the area was supposed to be bone dry!

Snatching up her radio she got a hold of Claytonville's mayor's office.

“What is going on Rick?”

“Oh, Brünhilda, I...”

A red light began to flash like crazy, it was the proximity alert, she dropped the radio and yanked on the controls. It wouldn't be good enough, she had to release the cloud.

A large object loomed up in front of them, with the cloud now released they shot up. Aether Gilileo almost shaking apart under all the stress.

Her heart sank as she saw the large logo “Air Corp” brandished across the huge airship she had almost collided with.

She had heard rumours, she had hoped weren't true, of Air Corp expanding into the area. A swarm of flying objects came flying towards them.

“They want to fight do they?”

Brünhilda grabbed her double-barrel shotgun from its holder behind her and raised it to shoulder level, she had never used it, she wasn't even sure it was loaded, but she would use it if she needed to.

It was a swarm of watermelon sized hoverbots. “This is restricted Air Corp airspace. Leave or we will be forced to take further action against you,” said a mechanical voice.

“This is my seeding area, you have no right to steal it!” she shouted back.

“Air Corp legally bought out your contract and license to seed.”

“You did what?” Tears rolled down her eyes. What would Bob think? Their family business just being taken out like that.

She fired. The recoil of the gun sent her flying back into the wood paneling of her ship. One of the bots caught on fire and went crashing down.

The rest of the bots responded quickly and blasted away at Aether Gilileo with their green lasers, parts of the ship were catching on fire.

“I have to fight them off!”

She pulled herself up by the rail and tried to swat the dancing bots with the gun. Getting more and more frustrated that she couldn't hit any of them. Zeplin purred and wrapped himself around her legs.

“You're right it's hopeless,” she placed the gun down. “Alright! Stop! I'm leaving.”

The bots stopped instantly, and then zoomed off again. With the immediate threat gone she went about putting all the fires out, luckily there was no serious damage and most of the fires had been put out by the wind and rain.

Brünhilda sighed and picked up Zeplin. “Come on, I think it's about time we retired.”

Friday, 11 November 2011

Twenty-Eighth Friday Flash: Clockwork Deputy



(Image Source)

Tobias panted. His clockwork opponent stood opposite him. It was strong, nimble and didn't get tired. It stood there with its baton and its revolver waiting for him to make a move. Tobias gripped his axe a little tighter. He had to stop it. His family was behind him locked up in their house, the house the sheriff had repossessed because their crops had failed and they couldn't pay their tithe, but there was no way Tobias was going down without a fight. The farm had been in his family for generations.

“Come on you rust bucket!”

“Tobias! We must go, it will kill us all,” said his wife from the front door, a large frying pan in her hand.

The clockwork deputy advanced. “You will surrender your property,” stated the mechanical voice.

“I will do no such thing, you demon.”

“He's so cool,” said Timmy pulling himself up and peering over the half door.

“Get back inside Timmy!”

“Just give in Toby, we can go move in with my mother...”

“Are you insane?” Tobias lost it, he lobbed his axe at the tin man. It missed. Screaming in rage Tobias ran and tackled the clockwork man. The deputy staggered a few paces back, but he did not lose his balance.

The man of the law took Tobias by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

“Please, please don't hurt him!” said the farmer's wife coming out and pleading.

The deputy dropped him, Tobias clutched his throat choking.

“You have ten minutes to vacate the property, all trespassers will be eliminated.”

“No!” croaked Tobias.

There was a loud clang. Tobias fell to the floor. “He's very stubborn,” said the farmer's wife shaking her head. “Come on Timmy help me get your dad into the wagon, we're going to visit grandma.”

“Yay grandma!”

Saturday, 16 October 2010

My Third #FridayFlash - Steamed

WARNING: Story has only been proofread a couple of times. Wrote it yesterday.

Brian woke to a crashing sound. It sounded like his cabin was being squeezed inside a giant vice. He rolled off his bunk to the floor, and fell off his feet as the ship swayed violently. It was a lucky coincidence because at that same moment the whole ship began to tilt even more wildly out of control.

Instincts kicking in, he grabbed a hold of the nearest object: a medium sized wooden chest full of his personal belongings. Holding on for his life the cabin suddenly rocked in the opposite direction and did a full somersault. The cabin fell apart under the pressure and to his amazement he splashed into the water; cutting and banging himself badly on the wooden chest and debris.

He collected himself and tried to recover from the shock. Brian was surprised to discover the sea was relatively calm. Still dark, he couldn't see what had happened to his ship. Debris and parts of the ship floated all around him. Clinging tightly to the chest he paddled around. Taking a three sixty degree view of the area. The sun was just rising on the horizon.

His jaw dropped as he took in what was looming up over him a few hundred yards away. It was a galleon style ship, but so different to any he had seen before. Stretching out from its sides were massive steel arms with deadly looking claw like pincers on the ends. Pincers large enough to grab his humble fishing boat and toss it to the heavens.

Hoping not to be spotted he dropped behind his chest and held onto the handle. Now that things had settled he could hear the steam powered engines of the ship chuffing along. Minutes of nerve wracking tension eked on by, just as he thought he might be in the clear the chest began to rise up into the air. Within seconds he was above the ship's deck, he dropped down and landed with a thud. Moments later the chest was unceremoniously dropped from the pincer. Crashing to the floor and splitting open in front of him.

Soaking wet, Brian breathed in deeply and out, trying to gauge what he should do next. He contemplated diving overboard, but facing the crew of the ship seemed like a better prospect than being deserted and left to be eaten by sharks. Out of nowhere something whizzed at his head. Not seeing it in time Brian got another scrape along the side of his head to add to his other injuries.

“Stowaway! Stowaway!” squawked what looked like a parrot, but it was like no parrot he had ever seen. It seemed to be half bird and half machine.

Brian quickly snatched up the lid of the chest in case it came in for another attack. He watched as it flew up and landed on what only could be described as a pirate. But like the parrot there was something very peculiar about the individual. Not only exceedingly tall he was also part machine. Cogs, gears and cams could be seen whizzing around in the man's artificial right arm and left leg. All the enhancements as you might call them were bronze in colour. It matched the plate that covered the top left hand side of his face. A big gleaming red eye stood out in centre of the plate. The pirate's gaze bored into the back of Brian's head.

He had only been the cook on the ship, and he was normally the one who took things lightly or shrugged things off, but this time he wasn't going to stand aside and let life do with him as it pleased. This time he was going to make his will and desires count. Besides he had baked a delicious rhubarb pie the night before and he was looking forward to serving it to the rest of the crew in the morning. That had all been changed by this hideous pirate and his flying bag of bolts.

“I thought we killed them all,” sighed the pirate as if Brian was little more than an insect that had to be stomped on. “See to it will you Nicodemus.”

“I will see to you, you rotten dirt bag!” shouted Brian charging forward with his lid in hand.

Brian swung savagely with all his strength at the pirate. Undeterred the heavily scarred man raised his mechanical arm. The already damaged lid smashed to pieces harmlessly off the man's mechanical arm.

Defending its master the parrot went for Brian's face. It dug its claws into Brian's skin as he backed away trying to swat it off. Wiping away the blood now pouring down his face with one hand Brian used his other hand to grab the parrot firmly by the neck. It squawked and protested loudly as he ripped it away from his face. Intense pain shot through his left eye as the parrot pecked wildly at his eye as Brian pulled it away. Enraged Brian grabbed the evil parrot with both hands and rung its neck. Its red eye slowly faded away to darkness.

“No!” boomed the pirate. “Not Niccy!”

He wasn't sure if it was the pain or the adrenaline that was driving him on, but Brian felt positively invigorated. The insidious pirate lunged forward shouting like a mad man. Seeing the dagger he kept in his chest shining in the morning sun Brian snatched it up, and shoved it into the pirate's chest. Choking on his own blood the pirate collapsed to the floor.

Free to roam Brian discovered that the pirate had run the ship on his own. Piles of junk and loot crowded most of the monstrosity of a ship. Under it all he found a usable kitchen.

Surveying the seas before him Brian took another mouthful of meat. It wasn't rhubarb pie, but he had to admit Nicodemus tasted rather good.

With the ship and all the equipment at hand he contemplated becoming a pirate himself. A less ruthless pirate, but a pirate none the less. He wondered if “One-eye Bri” would be a fitting name?

The End