Alex in Wunderstrande: The Clairvoyance Clock [BOOK ONE]

Chapter I: The War is Done

All seemed infinitely hopeless.

Three young soldiers clutched each other for support as the ship sank a few hundred meters in the air before steadying itself. Their eyes, dulled by lack of sleep, communicated panic as a tremor pulsed through the floors.

"You three!" barked a commanding officer at the teenagers. "For god's sake, get to your posts!"

The soldiers saluted and scrambled to their assigned stations. Hurriedly, they stocked the cannons with ammunition and gunpowder, wiping dark streaks across their foreheads.

"Imagine the look on those Wunderstrandian bastards' faces when we get this thing flying again and pummel their asses," weakly joked Princeton, the youngest of the lot.

The other two slowly allowed smiles to conquer their faces.

"It's all for the best, this," replied Stanley as he secured fresh ammunition. "No matter how it turns out...be fearless."

A sudden explosion shattered the circular port windows. Slivers of glass rained down over them.

Uniformed men scrambled about the interior in a mad rush, attending to sparking wires and loose gears. Orders were flying throughout the heavy, smoke-filled air, but they were momentarily silenced by the voice reverberating in the ship's loudspeakers.

"Recharge the ion blasters! Get those backup generators running!"

No one spoke the wretched thought on the top of every mind. No matter how nimble the men's fingers were, no matter how quickly they attended the damage, the machinery uttered groans of despair.

The airship trembled again, this time tossing its occupants across the floor like spare parts. Orders intensified. The putrid air grew thicker and reeked of sweat, leaking oil, and smoke.

"Courage, men! Time is of the essence!" charged the voice in the loudspeaker. "General Rosengrant commands us to push onward."

The three soldiers exchanged determined glances as the power flickered.

"Do you think we'll ever see Lancaster again?" Jay Jay asked in a quivering voice.

His comrades did not have to see past his dirt-streaked goggles to know he was crying. They stared back at him wordlessly, confirming his inner fears.

Lancaster, the greatest industrial city and Capitol of the world, was their home, but the young soldiers knew they would never see its glorious buildings and steam trains again. Or their families and friends. Instead, their last memories would be the atrocities of war, death, and the look of failure permanently etched upon the faces of their fellow troops.

After all, if they died, they failed. Every effort would be in vain. Wunderstrande would take possession of the Objective, and if they did...