The Steam War (The Steam War #1)

Chapter 1: Welcome Aboard

"Does anyone remember what's significant about this date?"

The teacher stood in front of the classroom, emphasizing the writing on the board with a massive pointing stick. Heavy lines of chalk spelled out, "June 20th, 1947." He paced in front of his desk a little spastically, and the floorboards creaked with each step. It was a rhetorical question, of course. Everyone on board knew the date.

Silence fell over the room long enough for him to answer the question himself. Even though he only half-expected an answer, he was unamused by the lack of participation in class. "That day is the day the Nazi regime launched der Dampfkrieg. Or, as we call it, the Steam War."

Whether for effect or to organize his lecture points, he paused. If he'd been paying attention, he would have noticed that almost nobody was listening to his lecture. Instead, he continued. "Who here knows the name of the first Nazi ship to go up into the sky?"

A better question to ask the students was probably, "Who actually cares about the names of Nazi ships?" Regardless of the fact that Germany and America were the two superpowers of the war, the first American ship got the sole luxury of being remembered. Any other country was lucky to have any of their ships remembered.

His pacing picked up again, each step clicking against the wood, and each plank creaking under his weight, reverberating the sound of the unreinforced beams underneath them.

Finally, Lukas, a quiet first-year from New Germany, raised their hand. "I believe the answer is the Kammerjäger, sir," he said.

It was his second day on board the ship, but Lukas had already figured out the routine. He braced himself for the incoming comments from the rest of the class. It wasn't easy being extensively German, much less a nerd.

"Nazi."

"Kraut!"

"Heil Kammerjäger!"

"Quiet down, class," the teacher commanded, ignoring the remarks made. "The English translation of this ship is the Exterminator, and it was home to six of the highest-ranking Nazis, including Hitler himself." He paused intentionally this time, letting the information sink in.

Of course, someone had to break the silence. "Sir, this isn't history class," a third-year kid said. He seemed to have a freckle for every month he'd been alive. He leaned his chair back, twirling a pencil between his fingers. The teacher, an outspoken opponent of obnoxious outbursts, immediately whirled to face towards the student, and his glasses nearly took flight. He replaced the pointing stick with a discipline stick.

"History, Mr. Williams," Mr. Gates began, beginning his pacing again, "is not simply a boring retelling of events for you to memorize. It is the remembering of all of humanity, of every advancement, of every war, and technology, and culture, and person. But most importantly, it is the context in which we live our very own lives."

If what he said was meant to be profound, it didn't receive the recognition he believed it deserved. The audience yet again gave him blank stares and apathy. He sighed, realizing that it was time to wrap up and get to his point.

"What year is it, Mr. Williams?" the teacher asked, walking over to his "Wheel of Fate." The wheel had a large red button and thirty different disciplinary options, each with grueling homework as punishment.

"1977, Mr. Gates," the kid replied. He'd heard the horror stories from this class, and while he had a creeping desire to see if any of the stories were actually true, it slowly dawned on him that testing the oldest teacher on board was not a very smart idea. He hoped for options on the wheel that were slightly less sadistic.