Clockwork Dinosaurs

By Matt Handle

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Lula dialed up the long lens on her goggles to get a better look at the wreck below and thought of her sister Ivy. Time was short. This had to work. Lula’s vantage point at the helm of the pteroplane The Morrigan provided a clear view of where the Matriarch’s steamship had gone down, yet she’d told Josephine to hold steady at 150 meters. Any lower and they risked breach. Their hull was battered, two plates ripped loose from her belly. The engines included a new, ugly-sounding rattle as well. Their run-in with a pair of flying hatzegopteryx on the way to the wreckage was a misfortune they could ill afford. Still, she thought, she and her crew had been through worse scrapes. If they couldn’t complete the mission through brute force or superior speed, they’d get it done with guile and a bit of luck.

As Lula gazed at the capsized steamer and surrounding whitecaps the pointed head of an adult ichthyosaur rose from the water nearby. It exploded upward until the bulk of its 12 meter blue-gray length shone in the early morning sunlight like a broadsword with fins. The dinosaur gnashed its bladed teeth at the motorized nuisance in the sky above then splashed back down to the surface before it disappeared. Lula watched with dread as another half dozen of the sea monsters did the same. An entire herd patrolled the waters below, each of the carnivorous beasts half the size of her ship.

Lula shouted to be heard above the din of the pteroplane’s engine and the flap of its leathery wings. “Look sharp, Helmswoman! There be dragons about!”

“Aye, Captain!” Josephine replied.

Lula stared at her derelict prize a moment longer with gritted teeth.

“You’ve got the wheel, Josephine. Take us down as low as you can. I’m going for the longspears.”

Lula stalked past her engine crew without a glance. She grabbed a spear from a wall rack in cargo then punched the button to open the bay doors. The combination of the roar of the engines and the rush of air was deafening. She tied a length of heavy rope around her waist to brace herself and leaned over the open doors for a better look. The herd of ichthyosaurs was so close she could smell their stench combined with the briny tang of the sea. They streaked through the water like synchronized menace. She raised her right arm, took aim and threw the spear with all her strength. She held her breath for precious seconds as the ranged weapon darted through the air before embedding itself in the flesh of one of the dinosaurs below. She knew the chances of killing all the beasts from this distance were slim, even if she had enough spears in her sparse inventory, but she hoped seeing one of their ranks injured would scare off the rest of the dinosaurs long enough to conduct her mission.

She realized too late that she misjudged the monsters. They didn’t flee. They swarmed. The ravenous ichthyosaurs turned on the wounded member of their herd and bit into her until the water was red with her blood. Instead of dispersing, more of the monsters merged on the site of the feast. The waves were a mass of entrails and gore, dorsal fins and teeth. Where there was once a half dozen predators, now there were two dozen at least.

As Lula considered her next move, the Morrigan shuddered beneath her feet. The ship’s engines groaned with stress as the rattle she heard before turned into a metallic screech. With a yell of frustration, Lula stepped away from the doors. She slammed her palm on the button to shut them and dropped the rope from around her waist. She nearly ran upstairs to the bridge.

“Status?” she yelled as soon as her helmswoman was in sight.

“Losing altitude, Captain,” Josephine replied. “Whatever those overgrown pelicans did to the ship, it’s getting worse.”

Lula squeezed her eyes shut. A cloud of rage passed over her blind gaze as she thought of her sister. She would not lose Ivy all over again. There had to be a way.

As she opened her eyes Lula turned from the windscreen and strode across the bridge. The heels of her boots clicked on the wooden floorboards until she stood in front of the navigation table. She dipped a quill in the brass ink pot and marked their location on the map with a large X.

“There will be no dive this morning,” she announced. “Let’s head back to Castle Anning for repairs and to let the Matriarch-in-Waiting know what we’ve found.”

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“You what?” shrieked Adelaide Shaw. The young woman’s dark eyes blazed with fury as she sat rigid upon her mother’s throne clad in a dark suit and lace-banded top hat. Her Royal Consort sat on the lower throne at her side, corseted, petticoated, and silent as always. He looked bored, already all too familiar with his teenage bride’s temper.

Lula lowered her head in deference to the royal’s anger as she kneeled on the dyed wooly mammoth rug that decorated the castle’s marble floor. The future leader’s mother had been a forceful woman, but patient. Her eldest daughter was a different story. This Matriarch-in-Waiting didn’t want to hear about the dangers of retrieving her deceased mother’s royal scepter. She wanted results.

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear,” Adelaide bit off the sentence as if the taste of every word offended her palate. “House Shaw has ruled this kingdom for five generations. I intend to make it six. If you cannot return my birthright from the sea that took it before House Moore steals it for themselves then your sister can waddle around like a toadstool on legs until the end of her days for all I care. Either you complete this mission and earn the royal doctor’s care or I’ll find someone else who can. Meanwhile my guards will escort you and that sad little armless wretch of yours outside the city gates where you can try your luck living among the savages and the dragons that hunt them. House Shaw rewards success and my reign has no room for failure.”

“I understand, Your Royal Highness,” Lula answered. “We will conduct our repairs and embark before sundown.”

---

Josephine looked up from her seat in the front antechamber when Lula arrived. The look on her captain’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“That bad?”

Lula nodded curtly without altering her pace. Josephine stood up and fell into lockstep behind her as they marched out of the castle to the gear-paneled coach idling in the circular drive. As soon as they were seated the vehicle belched a cloud of steam from its rear engine and they lurched forward toward the outskirts of the castle grounds and the capital city beyond. Their driver, hand-picked by Lula, was deaf and mute. There were spies throughout the city. Lula didn’t need anyone listening to what she was about to tell her second-in-command.

“I never thought I’d see the day I missed Edith Shaw, but here we are.”

“What happened?” Josephine asked.

“We’re going back out today, sea monsters or not. The Matriarch-in-Waiting is worried Alexandra Moore might send her own dive crew and beat us to the salvage. She won’t help Ivy unless we succeed. If we fail, Ivy and I will be banished.”

“She wants us to dive into ichthyosaur-infested waters that are probably 600 meters deep and as dark as a Sorceress’s arsehole to find an object no more than 100 centimeters long and as thin as my dear, sweet departed Da’s pecker.”

Lula smiled. She couldn’t help it. No matter how bad things might get, her foul-mouthed friend never failed to brighten her mood, even on a day that might prove to be their last.

“She does indeed.”

“I suppose you have a plan?” Josephine asked.

“I’m working on it.”

Lula began to jot down notes on a scroll with a black-feathered quill. Meanwhile Josephine stared out the glass window of the coach as they bumped along the cobblestone streets. When they reached the modest hospital set among several blocks of smokestacks and factories, the coach came to a coughing stop and Lula placed a hand on Josephine’s slender wrist.

“Wait here. I shan’t be long.”

Ivy turned her head in the direction of the door as Lula entered the room, but that was all the reaction her arrival received. Her once confident and brash little sister was a shadow of her former self. Her face was pale and gaunt, her eyes sunken and tired. It made Lula’s heart hurt just to look at her.

“How are you feeling?” Lula felt dumb for asking before the words were even out of her mouth.

“Like I’m dying,” Ivy croaked in reply.

Lula leaned in and hugged Ivy’s frail body knowing full well her little sister couldn’t return the gesture. Bandages hid the worst of what she’d suffered three days ago in the forests outside the city, but they ended less than six inches from the poor girl’s shoulders. The raptors had nearly killed her. Both arms were gone, amputated to spare her life.

“I can’t stay long. I’m back off to the skies by order of the Matriarch-in-Waiting.”

“Come to pay your last respects?” Ivy asked.

Lula adjusted Ivy’s pillow then offered her a reassuring stroke of her closely-cropped head.

“No. When I return, I’m taking you to House Shaw to see Doctor Beckwith. It’s been arranged.”

“It sounds like our former Matriarch’s misfortune is in my favor.”

“She’s not providing the good doctor out of the kindness of her heart,” Lula said. “Let’s just leave it at that. Rest. Eat a bit while I’m gone. You look thin.”

Lula pecked Ivy on the cheek then left before emotions could get the better of her. Ivy looked more than just thin. She looked as if she was waiting at death’s door. The doctors had done what they could, but Lula knew it wasn’t enough. Her sister would likely perish if she didn’t get her to Beckwith soon. There was no time to spare.

The coach lurched back to life as soon as Lula sat down beside Josephine and tapped the driver’s shoulder. They left the hospital behind and headed toward the city center and the pteroport beyond. Vendors hawked their wares from aboard tricycle carts that darted in and out of traffic; wind-up newsboys heralded the latest headlines in their strange tinny voices from every corner, and acrid steam rose from sewer grates block after city block as they wound their way between the towering buildings of iron, bronze, brass, and stone. The clock tower, tallest structure of them all, struck noon just as they reached their destination. The sound echoed through the city, bouncing off the metal walls that protected the modern metropolis from the dinosaurs that roamed outside.

Lula and Josephine exited the vehicle, and Lula tipped the silent driver with a single gold coin that bore the former Matriarch’s likeness before the man drove away. Josephine looked up at the proliferation of airships in the sky overhead and smiled. She saw all manner of dirigibles, sail barges, air barques, pteroplanes, steam cruisers, and gearships. There was even a para-trike. Its pilot pedaled the small single-person craft toward a landing pad not far from where The Morrigan sat waiting.

“Order the supplies and have Silas and Samuel come with you to pick them up. They’ll need to make the repairs as quickly as possible. We need sunlight if we’re going to do this and tomorrow is too late,” Lula told her as she handed her the rolled up scroll she’d written at the start of their ride. “Get as much as possible on credit. Use the Matriarch-in-Waiting’s name if you have to. Have the boys run another check of the Kraken before we leave as well. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Josephine snapped a quick salute and set off to find her two crewmates while Lula headed for the Morrigan.

---

After an hour of worrying about her sister’s condition, Lula got up from the desk in her quarters and headed for the cargo bay at the sound of her crew repairing the ship. She arrived to find the twins welding new plates on the torn hull. A glance told her they had already loaded the gear she’d ordered into holding bins along the back wall. Josephine sat inside the Kraken, top hatch open as she checked the controls.

“How are we looking?” she asked the room.

“All gear accounted for, Captain,” Silas and Samuel answered in unison. “We’ll have these plates done shortly. Engine repair is next.”

Both men wore their standard leather loincloth uniforms, their tanned hairless torsos sweaty and glistening in the afternoon light. Her brand stood out clearly, burned into the flesh above both their hearts. Lula hadn’t signed the identical pair straight out of the academy based on their appearance, but she had to admit they were pretty to look at. Over the past three years they had proven to be capable, loyal workers as well – rare qualities in men, but what the academy was known for.

Josephine offered her a thumbs-up from her spot inside the sub, so Lula motioned for her to carry on then headed to the bridge to power up the airship. Two hours later they lifted off and were pointed northeast toward the sea. The twins were busy feeding the boiler in the engine room, leaving Lula and Josephine alone and able to speak freely on the bridge.

“Do you think it will be Nettie?”

Lula glanced over at Josephine and saw the concern etched on the helmswoman’s face. Nettie James was a fellow mercenary and as dangerous as they came. Their paths had crossed once before and the result still made Lula wince.

“She’s their best,” Lula replied. “I wouldn’t expect House Moore to send anything less.”

Josephine nodded grimly. Lula took note of the helmswoman’s white-knuckle grip on the wheel then turned to look out the windscreen instead. The sea was calmer now that the morning winds were gone, but she knew the weather was the least of their worries.

When they reached the wreck location Lula was relieved to find it empty. No sign of Nettie or any other competitors for the scepter. The only thing moving were a half dozen sea scorpions that scuttled along the bottom of the capsized steamship scavenging for food.

“You have the helm. In ten minutes drop as close to the surface as you can. Stay sharp. If you see any more of those ichthyosaurs lift us out of trouble immediately. I’m going to attempt this dive while the coast is clear.”

Josephine wanted to object, but she knew better. Lula was her friend, but more importantly, she was her captain. Instead, she snapped a salute and kept her eyes on the horizon.

The Kraken was large enough to carry a two-woman crew, but Lula never considered taking Josephine or either of the twins along with her. She didn’t trust the twins to keep the Morrigan in one piece without female supervision and she might need their muscle to haul the sub back onboard. It was better if she did this underwater mission on her own. She donned her diving suit then climbed awkwardly into the submarine. Once inside she double-checked her helmet, nets, explosives, and guns were on board then started the engine with a complicated series of dial turns and lever pulls. As soon as the engine throbbed to life, she closed the top hatch and gave a hand signal to Silas who stood in front of the squid-like vehicle watching her through the front window.

At Lula’s signal, Silas opened the cargo doors on the underside of the bay. Lula and the Kraken dropped like a stone, hitting the water hard after a 100-meter freefall. The force of the landing took Lula’s breath away, but she quickly focused on the task at hand and guided the submarine to the side of the derelict steamship. At three meters, she cut the forward momentum of the Kraken’s eight steam-powered legs and pulled on her helmet. Extending the sub’s two retractable tentacles, she attached the vehicle to the side of the shipwreck and popped the hatch. She looked up and gratefully saw that the Morrigan had already risen to a safe distance, its wings flapping loudly as it hovered overhead. Grabbing her gear, she scrambled across one of the tentacles until she stood atop the barnacle-encrusted bottom of the wreck. The scorpions attacked at once.

Sea scorpions weren’t particularly large creatures, most no more than a meter long, but they were carnivores. And these were hungry. Lula drew both her ivory-handled pistols and opened fire. The scorpions were fast. Lula was faster. Within 30 seconds all six of the creatures smoldered in the sun, the stench of their scorched carapaces wafting on the ocean breeze. Lula walked up and down the ship, kicking the smoking corpses overboard as she made sure no more monsters were hiding in the shadows. Finding nothing, she holstered the guns on the sides of her suit and closed the pocket seals to keep them dry during submersion. She dove off the side and started her inspection of the doomed steamship.

The Brixta was the former Matriarch’s personal watercraft. Beautiful in its day, the sleek steamer had served her for over two decades. Now it lay overturned, the cause of its calamity unknown, all of its passengers including Edith Shaw presumed dead and buried at sea. The right of succession was based on possession of the royal scepter. It never left the Matriarch’s person. That meant it was somewhere lost in the wreckage and Adelaide could not claim the throne without it. If Lula couldn’t return it, someone else would. Barring that, it meant war. Without a rightful claim, every house would battle for supremacy and over 250 years of peace would be at an end. Lula had been onboard the ship twice in the past at the Matriarch’s invitation, once soon after she signed on with House Shaw and another just six months past. She’d studied the layout this morning to make sure her recollection was clear. There would be no room for error.

Lula knew the Matriarch could have been anywhere on the ship when it met its fate, but her most likely location was her personal chambers. Those were located on the second level, behind and just below the captain’s deck. She breathed in a gulp of air from the pressurized tank on her back and swam in that direction. Visibility was poor so she flipped the switch to activate the light on her helmet. A school of bug-eyed fish darted out of her way, but nothing larger seemed to lurk in the darkness.

She came across the first body as she made her way through the stairwell. One of the Matriarch’s royal guards floated lifeless, her blonde hair waving in the water like seaweed framing her pale, bloated face. Lula didn’t recognize the woman, but she felt a pang of sadness nonetheless. This was no way for one so young to die. She took care to swim around the corpse, not wanting to touch it even through her gloves. At the end of the stairwell she found a hallway where another pair of guards had drowned. Their weapons were still attached to their belts. Whatever had hit the ship, it had done so in a flash. None of them stood a chance.

The door to the royal chamber was closed. Lula feared it might be locked, but luck was on her side. It was heavy, but she managed to wrench it open. Inside was chaos. Heavy wooden furniture was pressed against the ceiling by the water and sodden sheets floated across the chamber like giant jellyfish. All manner of objects drifted around her as she explored the room. She saw a variety of bottles, boxes, brushes, and combs. Lula had to push them aside as she looked for the Matriarch. At the back of the chamber was the door to the water closet. Like the door to the room, it was closed but unlocked. Lula pulled it open and found what she was looking for.

Inside was the former Matriarch, her mouth frozen open as if mid-yell, her eyes wide in fright. Her slacks and undergarments hung around her liver-spotted ankles, a humiliating end to an illustrious reign. Lula shook her head inside her helmet. This was the woman who had taken her in when she was just another child street rat. This was the woman who had signed her into royal service and ultimately the captaincy of the Morrigan. She hadn’t loved the Matriarch, but she had respected her. Edith Shaw deserved better than this. Lying on the ceiling, the entire ship being upside-down, was the scepter. It glittered in the gloom like the prize Lula knew it to be. The hilt was covered in jewels – diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, a kaleidoscope of colors. The rod was solid gold. Lula snatched it up and hooked it onto a loop on her suit.

As she started back toward the chamber entrance, something slammed into the wreck, moving the ship so powerfully that Lula was flushed across the room and dashed against the far wall. Her metal suit clanged against the hull, rattling her teeth and leaving her breathless. Her ears rang. One of the sheets wrapped itself around her helmet, blinding her until she managed to pull it away. When she did, it revealed another diver at the far end of the room. This woman looked surprised by the collision as well, but she had a spear gun in her hands, and it was pointed directly at Lula.

Lula threw herself sideways just in time. The spear shot out at her, missing her shoulder valve and the line to her air tank by centimeters. Before she came to a stop, Lula drew her own spear gun from her back sheath and aimed for the would-be assassin. She pulled the trigger and watched the sharpened iron tip cut through the woman’s faceplate, breaking the glass and lodging itself between her target’s aquiline nose and generous lips. The diver opened her mouth and gasped once, pulling in lungsful of seawater before she went still. Her blood curled away, a dark red snake that dissipated into the tide.

Whatever hit the ship, Lula wanted to be gone before it attacked again. Where there was one assassin, there were bound to be more. She swam as hard as she could. This time she paid no attention to the floating bodies in her path. She batted them aside and kicked her legs for all she was worth. When she broke the surface she found an entirely new set of problems.

Nettie James had arrived. The rival mercenary’s gearship, the Dominae, was locked in battle with the Morrigan and it looked like she was winning. Josephine was a fine pilot, but Lula had never met Nettie’s equal. Scorch marks marred the right side of Lula’s beloved pteroplane and she saw multiple tears in both the wings. The Morrigan had superior maneuverability, but its armor and firepower was no match for the Dominae.

Lula pulled herself up on one of the Kraken’s outstretched tentacles then raced back inside the submarine. As soon as she was on board, she discarded her helmet and retracted the sub’s grasping metal arms. Josephine was in trouble and would not retreat from the battle until she saw that her captain was safe. Lula knew she needed to divert Nettie, and she needed to do it fast. She pulled out something that never failed to attract attention then stuck her head and upper body back out of the Kraken’s top hatch.

Lula had named Big Bella after her old Guild Weapons Master and the name fit. The grenade-launching hand cannon was thick, mean, and packed one hell of a wallop. Lula aimed it at the Dominae’s tail rudder and pulled the trigger. The big gun’s kick slammed her back against the edge of the hatch, but she still watched with satisfaction as the rear end of Nettie’s ship disappeared in a ball of flame. The Dominae shuddered then began to pitch and roll as the pilot fought to regain control of the damaged flying machine. That was all Josephine needed. The Morrigan sprayed a blinding wall of fire across the enemy plane’s bow from her flamethrower and Lula ducked back inside the Kraken to close the hatch and dive.

Lula directed the Kraken downward as fast as she could in order to escape undetected from the air, but she saw within seconds that the water was no safer than the sky. The mysterious force behind the Matriarch’s shipwreck was approaching fast from starboard. It was a megalodon, the largest predator in the sea. The aquatic monster looked as if it was 20 meters long, easily big enough to tear her submarine to pieces. She pushed the throttle to maximum speed and flipped a toggle on the control panel. Liters of black ink spilled from a reserve tank at the rear of the sub, hiding its movement and blinding the pursuing shark. Lula knew the countermeasure wouldn’t buy her more than a minute or two, but she thought it might be enough.

She pointed the Kraken in the same direction as the Morrigan’s flight path and said a silent prayer that Josephine would find her before the megalodon did. At the count of sixty she manipulated the sub’s hydroplanes until it was just below the surface. Then she raised the periscope to have a look. The first thing she saw was the Dominae, flying off toward the horizon trailing dark smoke from her ruined rudder. Turning the periscope 90 degrees, the next thing she saw brought a sigh of relief. The Morrigan, damaged but still whole was circling her position, flying low enough to snatch the submarine as soon as she breached. Lula lowered the periscope and completed the Kraken’s rise so that the twins could drop the cables that would reunite her and the sub with her ship. That’s when she saw the giant shark. Her inky subterfuge was gone, and the massive jaws of the silvery beast were pointed right at her. Time was almost up. The megalodon was closing fast.

Lula opened the hatch and bellowed to be heard over the distance and the roar of the pteroplane’s wings.

“Hurry!” She pointed in the direction of the shark so that Silas and Samuel would realize the cause of her urgency. One look at their faces told her they saw it. They bent their broad backs into the effort of spooling out the tow cables, turning the metal cranks as fast as they could.

The moment the cables were within reach, Lula grabbed them and attached them to the four corners of the submarine. The shark was nearly upon her as the twins got to work reeling her back up. Josephine wasted no time turning the pteroplane away from the megalodon and racing toward safety. Seeing its prey make its escape, the giant shark leapt from the water in a last frenzied attempt to bite hold of the sub and drag it back down to the depths. All Lula could do was watch as the monster’s dagger-like teeth came within meters of clamping down on the underside of the Kraken as it swung back and forth mid-air.

Defeated, the monster splashed back down into the sea and disappeared beneath the waves. Silas and Samuel finished pulling the Kraken back into the cargo bay and were all rippling muscles and relieved smiles as their captain exited the sub and clapped them on their backs.

“Well done, boys,” she told them. “Well done!”

Back at the helm of the Morrigan, Josephine by her side, Lula pointed the pteroplane toward the clear skies of London and the new Matriarch who awaited their return. Adelaide Shaw wasn’t one for displaying gratitude, but that evening she kept her word. Scepter in hand, she called for Doctor Beckwith and minutes later the diminutive elder physician listened as Lula explained Ivy’s condition while the Matriarch admired the jewels on her new prize.

It was five more days before Ivy exited Doctor Beckwith’s offices to stand before her relieved sister, but the color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes blazed as brightly as Lula remembered. The bandages were gone. In their place Ivy flexed her newly installed prosthetic arms. Steam rose from her shoulders and the mini engine pack strapped to her back. The hydraulic pistons and coiled springs uttered a high-pitched whine as Ivy carefully wrapped her new appendages around her big sister and gave her the hug she couldn’t back in the hospital.

“What do you think?” Ivy asked.

Tears welled up in Lula’s eyes which she swiped away with an embarrassed laugh.

“I think the next dragon that tries to make a meal of you is going to regret it.”

Ivy nodded as tears of her own ran down both cheeks. What was once broken was now whole again. The two sisters strode side-by-side down the castle hall toward the exit and whatever adventure the world held in store for them next. Dragons, beware.

---

Matt Handle lives in Atlanta, Georgia where he juggles the reality of being a husband, father, and software developer with the imaginary characters and worlds that constantly vie for his attention. His short stories can be found around the web including at Dark Recesses Press, Cosmic Horror Monthly, Daily Science Fiction, and Bleed Error.

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