Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

stalked around the side of the building, out of sight.
    Waiting was agony. She clutched the weapon, listening desperately for any sound. Only the ocean, and the faint snoring from inside the bunkhouse, the whisper of the breeze and falling snow.
    Then the soft crunch of footsteps. David appeared, carrying the watchman’s body, the man’s rifle slung over his shoulder. His neck had been twisted at an unnatural angle. A terrible ache built in her throat. They’d had little choice, but she’d never killed anyone before. She couldn’t imagine what David must be feeling. Except for the tight clamp of his jaw, his expression revealed nothing.
    He laid the watchman in the snow, covered his face with his hat. Silently, he holstered the pistol and took her hand. Together they skirted around the edge of the camp to the trolls.
    It was a relief to see that they weren’t any of the machines from home. These were new and identical, whereas each troll from Hannasvikhad been constructed with different salvaged pieces. Perhaps these men had come across one that had been hidden and copied it. The mystery of how they’d built these remained, and it could still mean that a driver from Hannasvik had been killed in the same way as the fluyt’s crew, but Annika wasn’t so afraid that her home had been raided.
    She felt the belly of each. Two were already warm. She chose the one farthest away from the camp, quietly opening the hatch in the chest. She’d slept in her troll many times, but not when at home. Hopefully whoever drove these slept in the bunkhouses.
    They did. The hearth chamber in the chest was empty. The furnace burned low. She stoked it, glad to see the coal bunker was full. After closing the vents, she lit a lamp and searched the driver’s locker, found the tool she needed. She climbed back through the chest hatch; David waited outside, watching the bunkhouses and the hovering airship.
    Gas grip in hand, she crept to the second troll, and clamped the tool over the hinge bolt on the hind leg. She couldn’t budge it, until the hard strength of David’s body pressed against her back, his hands gripping the handle below hers. The bolt squeaked as it turned. They both froze, listening. No movement in the camp. She continued loosening it until the bolt barely held the leg joint together.
    Her chest hurt when they finished. Oh, this was horrible. Though only a machine, what she’d just done would have destroyed a century’s worth of painstaking work and maintenance in Hannasvik. These weren’t hers, they weren’t old, but a lifetime of caring for a troll made it difficult to see them any other way.
    But she had to. With David’s help, she loosened the bolts on the other three legs, and saw that her troll’s nose had begun to steam. Snow fell steadily as they worked, heavy flakes that stuck to their clothes. By the time they finished with the third machine, the boilers were ready.
    Inside the troll’s hearth chamber, he had to stoop over slightly. Except for the floor, there was nowhere to sit—and unlike Annika’s troll, no bunk, no stove, and not much storage aside from the coal. The men at the camp must not use it to travel long distances, just to work—or perhaps to carry laborers to wherever the drill was.
    Annika slipped out of her coat. The chamber was already warm; soon it would be hot. David tossed his pack into the corner, brushed the snow from his shoulders before unbuckling his overcoat.
    “What do you need me to do?”
    “Stoke, after a bit, but we’ll be all right for a while.” Annika threw the engine lever to full steam, and grinned as the troll gave a satisfying huff and shudder. “For now, just hold on to something.”
    She climbed up the short ladder to the troll’s head and eased into the driver’s seat. Her boots fit snugly into the stompers that drove the back legs. A sweet sense of belonging slipped through her. Four years had passed since she’d driven a troll, but each movement remained wonderfully familiar. Reaching up, she opened the eye louvers. The steel flaps lifted, showing her a view of the camp through multiple narrow strips. Cold air slipped in, faint light from the lanterns.
    “Good Christ.” David stood on the ladder, looking over her shoulder at the jungle of levers and pulleys. “You can drive this?”
    “Yes.” She had only a second to familiarize herself with the differences. The controls were the same, the gauges new—and a welcome addition. She wouldn’t