Fianna Kelly Versus the Jeebees: A Collection of Steampunk Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

was smiling with pride at his weapon as I stood with my mouth slightly
open, stunned. I thought about the prospect of this and asked him, "Could
one of these be made smaller, like the size of my rifle?"
    "No,
you see the locomotive is not just to transport it. The engine is specially
fitted to provide the enormous amount of electricity the weapon takes to fire.
Plus, even though the gun looks small, it has the recoil of a cannon."
    "I
would guess so."
    "I
would like you to visit the gunsmith while you are here. You helped our men
fight the jeebees; we may be able to assist you with your competition."
    I
was about to object, but I knew a dismissal when I heard it. I had gotten many
of them in my life. I figured the Colonel had run out of things to tell me.
    I
looked at the Colonel. Well not quite at him; more like at his feet. "If I
could request a favour..." I started, "It's not for me, but it kind
of is for me too... Well, it's for Bradan."
    "Is
that what you call that huge boiler on legs that walks around in circles
whenever you are out of its sight?" He said with a smile.
    "That's
him," I laughed. "I don't think he can ask for himself, but once you
have a skilled engineer... I don't want you to infer that I can't keep him
going... I could follow his directions when I had the books, but we left those
back at the farmhouse... He knows what he needs. Once you have someone here who
actually knows about steam engines... I am sure he would appreciate a good
check if you know what I mean. The jeebees were killing him slowly when I came
along and I'm not sure I got all his parts back in place properly."
    "Well,
I could lie to you and say we have the best men who work on steam engines here.
Instead I will tell you that the ones we have on the base are very good and I
personally guarantee that only good things will happen to your metal friend
while in our machine shop."
    "You
will tell them to pay attention to the words on his chest. That is how he
communicates."
    "I
suggest you voice your concerns when you meet the engineer. I'll have Albert
escort you to him on your way to see the gunsmith."
    The
chief engineer was ecstatic to check out Bradan. He walked around him,
inspecting everything closely, while talking about what a marvellous machine it
was. While he had worked on automatons before, he had never worked on a walking
steam engine. He assured me that the principles were the same; boilers,
pistons, and gears.
    The
gunsmith's office was just down the hall from the engineer's. A piece of paper
was tacked onto it. It read:
    If you
are that woman sharpshooter, I am at the range. If you aren't, I have left on
holiday.
    When
Albert and I arrived at the range, I noticed a balding man fiddling with a
small telescope. When we approached, he looked up from his work.
    Albert
introduced us. "Fianna, this is David Buckley, our resident gunsmith.
David, this is Fianna Kelly, that woman sharpshooter."
    I
thought that was funny, but I just smiled and curtsied. Albert excused himself,
having many errands for the Colonel awaiting him. I looked back at the gunsmith
and wondered what I was doing here.
    "Miss
Kelly, have you ever heard of a French engineer named Fresnel?" He did not
wait for my reply, but kept talking. "Not many have. He is best known for
designing lenses for lighthouses. We were trying to apply his work to make a
lightweight telescope for mounting on rifles. It was too fuzzy. You could be
aiming at the moon as easily as a target with it. Now we have this one which
uses a lighter tube, made of an aluminium alloy, to hold standard lenses.
    He
put down the telescope and appraised me. This was in the usual way that men
always do and I had gotten used to since I reached puberty. Perhaps my mother
was right to say I should wear long skirts.
    He
said, "I see you have a Martini-Henry Infantry Rifle MK II. It's a fine
rifle you have there; for Yanks, and young women that is."
    Perhaps
he wasn't looking so much at me, but at my rifle. It