The Gold Engine (The Gold Chronicles)

by D. Girard Watson

  Harriet sighed as she watched the stars from the quarterdeck. "How far are we from Atlantis?"

  "Three days, Ma'am," said Suarez.

  "Set a course for that damned rock. Tell Marr to get as much out of the engine as he possibly can."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Get Marr up here immediately," said Harriet. She was beaming.

  They were only a few minutes away from docking at the spaceport. The view of Atlantis was one of the most amazing sights in the galaxy. It was an enormous asteroid, approximately thirty miles in diameter. On its surface was the city, a teeming metropolis of one hundred thousand citizens, an enormous population for a space port. Because space was at a premium in the city, the buildings were built upward, with some of the tallest reaching thirty or forty stories. They were densely packed, looking like toys from a distance. She could see carriages moving down the gritty, dusty streets, along with horses, trolleys, and people going about their business. Most of the population consisted of traders and importers, making money from shipping goods through this duty free part of space. Others made money selling goods and provisions to trader ships passing by. It was a wealthy town, with parks, pools, statues, and pretty town squares dotting the surface of the asteroid.

  Life was supported by gold generated atmospheric fields scattered throughout the port. It was these fields that created breathable atmosphere, gravity, and the moisture that was needed to survive. Their corresponding quantum fields were on a Dutch continent on the planet of Esme. It was rumored, for the Dutch let no one near it, that a hundred square miles were safeguarded for keeping the corresponding bits of time and space that the gold created safe. The air, gravity, and atmosphere on Atlantis were actually located on a planet thousands of light years away.

  But it was not the beauty of Atlantis that made Harriet so giddy.

  In the dock, she saw a small ship with scaffolding along its side. It looked like an insect trapped in a spider web. It was flying Spanish colors. It was the transport.

  The transport was probably hit by the same particle storm.

  "How long before you can get us out of here?"

  "It should be just a day," said David. "Less if we hurry."

  "Excellent," said Harriet softly.

  When they had docked, the authorities had not been happy. She had talked to a fat, little port administrator who had told her that only the governor could decide whether they would be allowed to stay. He had been fairly nasty to her, but after she thanked him effusively and tipped him several hundred dollars for his troubles, he became much more agreeable. When word had arrived from the governor that they could stay for a docking fee of $1000 a day, she was relieved.

  The question was what to do about that Spanish transport. The administrator was unwilling to say anything about the other ship other than that it had come in for repairs, which was obvious. From the dock, she could see that its hull was damaged. It was too small to have a crew capable of doing that type of work out of dock, and she probably wouldn't leave for a few days.

  It would be impossible for them to take or board her. One of the stipulations of their docking was that the crew had to stay on board. Besides, if she made an attack in a neutral port, it could cause an international incident. Of course, given the importance of Waterhouse, the admirals might have given her authorization to act if they knew about the situation. If she didn't do anything, she could be criticized for being too rigid in the interpretation of her orders. Of course, if she did act, the criticism might be even greater. How much authorization did she really have?

  Her other option was to wait until the transport left, and then take her once she was in international space. Of course, surely the captain of the transport knew this, and consequently would have little desire to leave. However, it was also true that since it was a military transport, the governor probably only gave them leave to stay until their repairs were complete. The transport might have no choice but to leave, and then the Calista could take her.

  These options tumbled through her mind.

  "Suarez," she said to her first lieutenant, who was observing the transport through the glass. "You know the situation. Should we take her now or take her later?"

  "Later," said Suarez firmly. "I don't think the higher-ups want to risk angering the Dutch. Besides, the transport will have to leave eventually. They won't have permission to stay indefinitely and I doubt they can afford to pay these outrageous fees for very long."

  Harriet nodded.

  When the repairs were completed, Harriet was forced to stall. Though greedy, the port administrator was not a stupid man. Although he didn't know the details, it was clear that the Calista's captain wanted the transport, and was trying to buy time. In this case they did so quiet literally. Harriet paid extra fees on top of the docking fees to let them continue with their "repairs." She knew that although the little man was happy to continue their financial relationship indefinitely, at some point, it would have to come to an end. The question was whether it would end before or after the transport left.

  The tension aboard was high. Suarez had the crew in a constant state of readiness. They might have to leave at any moment. The scaffolding surrounding the transport was gone and she suspected that their repairs were complete. They too were probably stalling for time.

  Finally, a lookout shouted: "She's away."

  There was scrambling on deck. Harriet viewed the transport with her glass. The little ship had indeed undocked. It was heading out.

  "Set a course to follow her," said Harriet.

  The crew moved into action. That there had been no shore leave was actually a blessing in disguise for all the sailors were present and ready for action. They undocked unceremoniously, and followed the little transport.

  The transport had no real hope of escaping and didn't appear to be trying. She was moving slowly, and after the several hours it took to get to international space, she lowered her flag and was clearly preparing to be taken. Her captain was probably burning his papers and signal books. The crew was safeguarding its belongings.

  Harriet's pulse quickened. Even though there was sure to be no action, she always felt a surge of adrenaline whenever she boarded an enemy ship. As they pulled alongside, her crew threw out grappling hooks to bind the ships together. The Calista's marines quickly boarded her, securing her holds.

  Suarez accompanied this initial party of soldiers. They searched the ship for several hours. Suarez face was tight as a knot when she returned to the quarterdeck. She shook her head back and forth before Harriet could say anything.

  Eventually, the captain of the transport and her first officer were brought to the quarterdeck.

  "Good evening, captain," said the transport commander. She was of medium height, in full dress uniform. She was blonde and pretty, though her default expression seemed to be that of a scowl. "I am Elena Gutierrez. When I saw your ship arrive at Atlantis, I knew we would meet."

  Despite herself, Harriet laughed. "As did I. The only question was when."

  "Indeed. But in any case, I'm afraid we don't have what you're looking for." She said this so easily. By the rules of war, she was not bound to say anything at all other than her name and rank. That she spoke of these things without hesitation suggested just how far away Waterhouse and his engine were from their grasp.

  "Where is he?"

  "I'm afraid I cannot say. We had the pleasure of his company on my ship for a while, but we parted ways once we reached our destination."

  "I see," said Harriet. There was not much to say. Waterhouse and the engine had been delivered to New Madrid. They had no hope of rescuing him now. A cut-out mission on New Madrid would be suicide. She tried not to let her disappoint show, but she could feel the excitement slipping away from the crew, for nearby members of the crew had been casually eavesdropping.

  They had failed.

  "Well, welcome aboard. Enjoy the hospitality of our ship while you are here. We have several of your compatriots already..."
<
br />   "Ship ahoy!" shouted one of the hands.

  Even Captain Gutierrez appeared surprised by the call.

  Harriet picked up her glass. The ship was closing in on them extremely rapidly. It appeared to come out of nowhere. She didn't yet know its size or its intention, but she wasn't optimistic.

  "Captain," said Harriet, turning to Gutierrez, "you'll understand if I ask you and your officers to stay below deck until things are sorted up here."

  Gutierrez bowed and headed below deck, accompanied by a contingent of marines.

  "Battle stations," said Harriet. Suarez yelled the order to the crew. Harriet didn't know whether the ship was a friendly or not, but she wasn't about to take any risks. She picked up the speaking horn, "Marr, prepare for full speed. We may need everything she has."

  She picked up the glass again, straining to get any information she could from the small metal gleam on the horizon.

  "It's Spanish!" yelled a lookout.

  He was right. The colors were definitely Spanish. Harriet immediately recognized the ship. It was the Sangria, the same ship that had almost destroyed the Calista before. Her heart sank.

  "Turn us about," she said. "Full speed ahead. Get us the hell out of here."

  Their only hope was to outrun this ship of the line. They were outgunned and outmanned. Her hope, and it was a small one, was that David's new engine would give them enough thrust to outrun her.

  It took about half an hour to get to full speed, and the Sangria gained ground the entire time. Slowly, very slowly, her approach leveled off. Soon, they were running at dead even speeds.

  David was called to the quarterdeck. They had been running for three days straight. The ship's crew had been running at full alert the entire time. Everyone was on edge. The engine room's crew had it particularly hard. Running at full speed for that length of time put an enormous strain on the engine and its workers. Steam valves were beginning to show signs of fracturing, and the containment chamber glowed a bright blue with the strain. The heat was enormous. His men were exhausted. The worst of it was that the engine might explode if they ran this hard for too much longer. If that happened they were done for.

  On top of the stress and the fear of another battle, he was in mourning for Waterhouse. He had been in high spirits when they first sighted the transport at Atlantis, but this all came crashing down when he learned the truth. Waterhouse was out of their reach. Now that he had decided to act, it seemed that the fates had dealt him his worse card yet.

  When he reached the quarterdeck, he could see that the other officers were close to the end of their endurance. Neither Lara nor Harriet looked like they had slept more than a few hours the past three days. The crew looked sluggish and despondent. This made the news he was about to share all the more difficult.

  "Status, Marr?" asked Harriet.

  "Ma'am..." he hesitated. "I don't think we can go more than a few more hours at this speed. The engine is in danger of melting down."

  She looked at him intently, but he didn't see disappointment in her expression. She looked resolute. He wondered what was coming next.

  "I was afraid of that."

  "They'll destroy us in a fight," said Suarez.

  "I agree."

  "Is the only option to surrender?" asked Marr nervously.

  "No, it isn't," said Harriet. "We'll turn the ship around, and try to get close enough to board her. She won't expect it and that might give us an advantage."

  "Captain," said Suarez, "they probably have three hundred hands to our one hundred and fifty."

  "Like I said," continued Harriet. "They won't expect it. If we turn about now and head at them at full speed, we'll be there in ten minutes. We only have to survive her cannons for that long."

  Ten minutes. David knew that that was an eternity while under fire. There was a good chance that their one hundred and fifty hands would be significantly less by the time they reached the Sangria.

  "Why don't we raise our flag as if to surrender?" said David. "When they get close, we attack?"

  Harriet gave him a withering look. "Some things just aren't done, David. That's one of them"

  "Really? I know ships sometimes play tricks: they pretend to be disabled or fly a different nation's colors. How is my suggestion any different?"

  "It just is," agreed Suarez, shaking her head.

  "Turn us about," said Harriet, "and ready the crew for boarding."

  "Aye, Captain," said Suarez. As Suarez gave the order, Harriet called for her pistols and sword.

  David turned to head to the engine room.

  "Stay here, David," said Harriet. "We won't need you in the engine room and you might come in handy on the quarterdeck."

  "Aye," he said grimly. "I'd like a pistol."

  Harriet laughed and called for a pistol for him. "Just be sure to shoot it at the other guys."

  David grinned.

  He was surprised to see that the demeanor of the crew had changed. Whereas before they looked worn and beaten, now they appeared revitalized. They moved quickly about their tasks, readying rifles, making sure the cannons were readied.

  Harriet stood at the head of the quarterdeck to address the crew.

  "This is our first tour together," she shouted, "but I've worked with each and every one of you, and I know that this ship is up to the challenge set before us today."

  There was a cheer.

  "A few months ago, the Sangria gave the Calista a pounding, but she came through it alright. Today we're going to give the Sangria a taste of what she dealt out."

  David watched the approaching Sangria through his own glass. They'd be within cannon shot in a few minutes. He hoped the Calista's reversal would confuse the enemy and maybe catch them unaware. What would happen this time? He felt a clenching in his stomach. Would he be able to take the pressure of being shot at?

  More cheering interrupted his thoughts.

  "....once we're alongside, you know what to do. Take out as many of them as you can. The day will be ours!"

  Once the final cheering had subsided, Harriet returned to her post to assess the situation. At this point, the Captain of the Sangria must have detected the Calista's change in course. They were well within cannon shot. That they were not being fired upon suggested that the Sangria's crew was slow to react. If they were slow...if they were enough inexperienced hands on the ship, the Calista's crew might have a fighting chance.

  "Fire bow guns!" she shouted.

  They fired. Two direct hits on the Sangria's bow. She could see through her glass that the sailors had scattered from where they were hit. There was a small fire, and a few bodies on the Sangria's deck. Harriet's crew cheered with excitement. Harriet saw two puffs of smoke from the Sangria's bow guns.

  She heard the high pitch whine as metal sailed through the air. She flinched and several crew members hit the deck. They had missed. She was relieved. The next shot would almost certainly hit them though. Once the Sangria's gunners had their guns calibrated, there would be no more lucky misses.

  They were getting close. She was hoping to turn the ship at the last second, fire a broadside, and then bring her along the Sangria so they could board. It was a simple plan, and she knew that the Sangria's captain would anticipate it.

  They had still not been fired upon.

  "Bring her along the starboard side."

  As they turned, the Sangria unleashed a broadside. The noise was incredible and David was momentarily deafened by the noise. The proximity of the enemy ship made the broadside all the more damaging. Hands not too far from David were screaming. Fires had started on deck, and men were rushing to put them out. There were noticeable holes in the flooring of the deck. He looked around. Everyone on the quarterdeck was still alive but there were about a dozen bodies on the main deck. Blood was pooling, like puddles after a spring shower. It was a damaging blow, and yet...and yet, it was not mortal. The Sangria had fired too early. Her cannons had gone off before the turn was complete and before the ships laid
completely aside one another. Just a few seconds later and the broadside would have been even more devastating. She would not be able to fire again before the boarding took place.

  "Fire!" shouted Harriet.

  The Sangria felt the full force of the Calista's broadside. The shot was perfectly timed and the crew aboard her was thrown into disarray. Scores of bodies littered her deck, and a row of enormous holes were blown out of her hull. It was a devastating blow. She was still moving, so they clearly hadn't hit her engine room, but Calista had dealt out far more than she had got.

  "Ready for boarding," shouted Harriet. The ships were now fully alongside each other, and their sides scraped with a horrendous clang of metal on rusty metal. Harriet leaped over the side of the Calista onto the deck of the Sangria. She was followed by a horde of cursing hands, yelling blood-curdling screams. They carried swords, knives, cudgels, pistols, rifles, any weapons they could find. They were joined by the ship's marines, whose formation looked slightly more professional, but not any less terrifying, to the crew of the Sangria. Sharp shooters were positioned at lookout posts, to pick off Spanish sailors.

  David swallowed, gathered his courage, and ran into the horde with the rest of the hands. He leapt over the side of the Calista, tripping and almost getting trampled by the other sailors, and was soon picked up by a friendly hand.

  There was confusion aboard the Sangria. They clearly had not expected a boarding. Who knows what they thought was going to happen? Perhaps they imagined that the Calista would exchange broadside for broadside in a suicide mission. Perhaps they imagined that the Calista would surrender after the first shot was fired.

  Even David could see, however, that the officers of the Sangria had miscalculated. Although a few Spanish sailors were giving the Americans a fight, many were retreating below deck. He saw no signs of any officers. There were several fires on the main deck.