My Big Goblin Space Program

Chapter 71 – Infernal Engines

Armstrong and his scrappers tried to stay between me and the humans, in much the same way the paladins tried to stay between him and Taquoho. Mostly this resulted in the two groups of bodyguards bumping and jostling through the village as I took Taquoho and a few of the other Ifrit to the north side where the igni and engineers worked in tandem.

“I’m not as far along as I’d hoped we would be when you returned,” I admitted. “Getting the iron from the swamp turned out to be more… challenging than I’d anticipated and the javeline making their move threw an extra monkey wrench into things. We were forced to focus on making weapons both to defend ourselves and make progress in the swamp. But now, we’re back in development mode. Without the javeline causing trouble for local goblin tribes, I can focus on unifying and feeding them to transition them into working on the space program.”

“A clever use of bio-lightning, to be sure,” said Taquoho, eying one of the tesla wasp spears being tested by two goblins on an unfortunate (or perhaps kinky) third member.

I debated telling the Ifrit about King Ringo being the source of the know-how on the wasp larvae, but decided that wasn’t my story to tell. “Huntsville ended up being a veritable treasure trove of resources. It’ll be a launch pad that extends our reach to encompass the other bluffs and wrangle more livestock. Mostly thanks to this,” I tapped the steel springs at my legs.

“Do the Ifrit use much steel? Or do you stick to brass?”

“We are familiar with steel, though we find it ill-suited to our purposes so we seldom trade for it. Copper and zinc are much more plentiful near The City and brass is more malleable at lower temperatures. Our true forms adhere to zinc especially well, which makes brass ideal for our vessels.”

Taquoho lifted one of his vessel’s forelegs, waving it about as if to demonstrate. Several other Ifrit vessels of varying sizes scuttled about, investigating the smithing area. The igni stopped work to watch them, eyeing the little clockwork bodies as they stoked their forges with hammers close to hand incase the little spirits got a little too curious.

I approached Promo at his workstation, and he quickly made a show of shuffling papers around, but it wasn’t hard to tell that the whole charade was an effort to hide a piece of paper with little boxes on it. I sighed. Those canoneer comics were spreading.

“Boss! Good to see yeh, and yer, um, friends.” he caught sight of the humans and patted around behind him on the table until his fingers wrapped the familiar handle of his own hammer. “Big jobs, ain’t they?”

“Taquoho, this is Prometheus, the boss of my smiths.”

Taquoho performed a bow, spreading his forelegs. “Prometheus. I am humbled to meet you.”

“Call me Promo,” he said.

Taquoho tilted up toward me. “Familiar brevity!” he whispered.

One of the noblins squawked as an Ifrit vacated its vessel and flowed into one of the forge impellers, stoking the flame and nearly singing the ignis’ fur. Good thing they were resistant to heat damage. Others examined ceramic receives for unfinished rifles. I saw one gun cock itself and the hammer drop. Thankfully it hadn’t been loaded.

“I’d have your people be careful around those,” I said. “And refrain from possessing any of the ammunition. I wouldn’t want someone to set off a rockette by accident and get separated.” I considered for a moment as I pictured one of the fire spirits leaping into a basket of rockettes. “I have to ask, do Ifrit produce heat?”

“No more than you, yourself do,” said Taquoho. “The subtle fire of our beings consumes the magic substrate that infuses all things. It is an elegant way to take sustenance. Unlike our paladin friends, and yourself, who must crudely masticate nutrients and cycle them through an excretory system.”

I wasn’t sure if I ought be offended that the Ifrit was appalled at the concept of digestion. I shrugged. “Goblin scat actually has quite a few applications, I’ve found. Like flying balloons, rocket fuel, and blasting powder.”

One of the Ifrit near Promo’s workstation flared blue, and then a shade of light pink.

Taquoho straightened and observed, shifting his own hue from a pale blue to a shade of orange, violet, and then back to blue. He turned to me (though I couldn’t tell his vessel’s front from its back if you held an RPP to my head).

“Basha Delton Rathraha Ithius Fayad wishes to know, what is the purpose of the angular shaft with the rounded triangular plate?”

“Ah,” I said, moving over to inspect it. “Promo, you should have told me it was ready,” I said.

“Din’ want to be rude, King,” said Prometheus. “Do yeh like it?”

I picked up the rotor for the prototype engine with the small offset shaft that would make up the core of the engine. It was… surprisingly accurate, for goblin work. I glanced down at the desk, where Luther’s first canon build manual for the Church of the Right Angle showed the ordained dimensions for the prototype rotor.

I turned to the Ifrit who had asked the colorful question. “This, erm,” I thought hard for a moment. “Baderaithifa,”

The Ifrit in question, and several others, flared at the mention of its shortened name. I didn’t understand, as I’d made a mental note to make sure I caught all the first syllables. Taquoho waved his forelegs frantically. “Please do not shorten Basha Delton Rathraha Ithius Fayad’s name! You are not yet familiar enough with them, nor are several others in our company. This is offensive to their union.”

“Oh,” I said. “Isn’t that your custom?”

“It is my custom,” said Taquoho, “Based on this union’s dealings with outsiders and their needs for brevity.”

I bowed. “My apologies.”

The Ifrit seemed placated for the moment, so I continued. “This is the next step in our technological progression: an internal combustion engine.” I looked at the rotor. “Well, technically this is just part of the engine. My chief engineer, Sally, has the outer shell. It still needs work, but we’ll be firing up the first prototype here in the next couple days once I’m convinced it won’t explode.”

“Your desire for caution is laudable,” said Taquoho. “May we see the ceramic kilns? And this prototype engine powered by internal flames?”

“Of course,” I said. I slung the rotor over my shoulder. “Promo, I’m taking this with me.”

“Give the engineers my best,” said the noblin chief.

I waved and led the party to the northeast corner, past the air traffic control tower and the landing strip. The strip had been cleared, with all the aircraft returned to Canaveral with enough goblins to fend off the lizards. We passed the paper press next, where fresh sheets were being pressed under flat stones and cut into sheets. Javier stood waiting nearby with the tribe’s only pair of metal shears, waiting to cut it.

“You have developed a paper process?” asked Taquoho.

“We have,” I said. “We’re not exactly hurting for timber, so the cast-offs can be pulped and pressed.” I pulled a fresh sheet off the stack. “I imagine you don’t get enough trees in the desert to make paper on the regular. If it’s something you’d be interested in trading for, we already have plans to set up another cask.”

Taquoho waved his leg dismissively. “The Ifrit keep no written records. Paper is for rich newcomers to fan themselves in the late summer.”

Hmm… “I bet I could give you a reason to want paper,” I said. “Give me two days.”

We moved on to the ceramics work spaces. Sally was overseeing one of the kilns being fired up, with a pair of noblins stoking the charcoal flames beneath the blower. I waved to her, and she caught sight of the rotor in my hand and began to chitter.

“You want to see how this fits in the outer case?” I asked.

She jumped up and down. I held out the triangular rotor. My chief engineer snatched it out of my hands and ran to compare it to the crank case. By divine providence, the two looked compatible.

“I’ll be damned,” I said, looking at the canoneer drawings on the bench nearby. I suppose divine providence wasn’t too far off. The new noblin variants were doing what I couldn’t: establishing and maintaining manufacturing standards. The would-be religious nuts might end up being more useful than I’d thought after all. “My new friends, you’re looking at the first prototype engine case and rotor. All it’s missing now is some spark plugs."

Taquoho approached the engine. A small lid on a reservoir concealed within his vessel slid open, and the formless fire slipped from the tiny spider-bot into my prototype engine.

“Fascinating!” his voice echoed from inside. “You say this will produce angular torque?”

“For the gliders, boats, tools, and other purposes.” I pressed my hands against one side of the case. “Hold the case together!” I called out. A few of the goblins dropped what they were working on and ran over, putting their weight into the two ceramic pieces to help me hold them together with the rotor in place. I knocked on the ceramic. “Taquoho, see if you can spin that rotor. It should have very little clearance."

The metal scratched as it began to rotate, but it didn’t take long for it to slow again. Taquoho slid out of the exhaust port in the crank case and back into his walking vessel.

“I’m afraid it’s too heavy,” he said. “As I said, steel is difficult for us to move. Perhaps if it were zinc.”

I shook my head. “With the abuse this thing is going to take, I don’t think zinc is going to cut it. That’s alright. We have a liquid fuel we’re going to try.” I turned to Sally. “Seal it up. The Ifrit brought bolts to lock everything down. By tomorrow night, we should be ready for the first test-fire."

One of the other Ifrits flashed and chirped a series of musical notes.

Taquoho stretched his limbs out. “Behern Galt Muya pays you a compliment, and reminds me that it is time for our prayer. I look forward to seeing more of your artifice and beginning to incorporate your ceramic parts.” he sighed. “Would that I could look upon The City from one of your gliders, but alas the creatures in the deep desert would be quick to attack anything with wings.”

“The Ifrit observe a deity?”

Taquoho raised his leg in warning. “You should not ask about it. It is taboo for many unions to discuss it with anyone from outside The City.”

I nodded. “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil,”

“Just so,” said Taquoho. “Wise words. But it is missing the most crucial command of all.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Practice no evil.”

“Ah,” I said, running a hand through my fur. “I’ll have to consider adopting that one.”