Buried In Blue

by L G Rollins

  He laughed again, and she couldn’t help but join in. Gracious, how long had it been since last she laughed? It was a foreign feel, yet not uncomfortable. “I’m probably being too dramatic.”

  “I think it’s wonderful that you are so determined. I remember my days at Eton—I’m not sure I got even one science experiment done properly.”

  “It does require attention to detail; and well written instructions.” Which brought to mind the problems she was currently having. Her brow creased. “Writing instructions can sometimes be the hardest part of all.”

  He looked, one brow raised: an invitation to say more.

  If only there were more people like him in her field. Not only did he see past the differences in people, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. To think, if the committee had even a handful of “captains” she would never have to worry about their continual support. “I’ve been struggling with my BLU Elixir.”

  His brow creased for a moment and then he nodded. “The werewolf shots.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t stop the half-smile at his nickname for her elixir. “It is vital for the reputation of a research scientist to keep detailed accounts of everything she does. It is paramount. Every bit as important as what one wears to a ball or opera for the upper class.” She let out a small sigh. “I think I’m better at recording experiments than I’ll ever be at knowing what to wear.”

  “I don’t know why you say that. Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve looked nothing short of lovely.”

  Elise looked over at him surprised. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She had been told, repeatedly growing up, that she was intelligent, had a good head on her shoulders, and that her determination would take her places. She was proud of those things, always would be. But no one had ever called her lovely.

  “Tell me the problem you’re having,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the glass. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

  Not unless he found a way to infiltrate the committee. “A couple other scientist have attempted recreating the elixir. They’ve followed my instructions down to the last letter. But, unfortunately, none have been successful so far.”

  “What does that mean? If no one else can replicate what you made?”

  “If it can’t be replicated, then it isn’t given credence or credibility in the scientific world. Something that can’t be copied can’t be proved.”

  “And this looks bad on you?”

  “Absolutely. It will be thrown out and branded a scam.” Frustration from the past few months welled up inside. She briefly described the committee’s ultimatum and the pressure they were putting on her to show the BLU Elixir could be duplicated. It wasn’t just financial backing she was worried about losing, it was their ability to open doors for her.

  “For many of my test subjects, all they needed to know was my experiment was backed by the Committee for Scientific Advancement and they were eager to join. It’s so important that experiments are checked and double checked by colleagues, so I understand why they’re questioning me. Otherwise we’re back to blood-lettings and curing warts with toads.”

  “Everyone knows you cure warts with salamanders, not toads.”

  She laughed. “Exactly.” Goodness, it felt good to look at the problem with a smile and a laugh, instead of her usual intently logical analysis.

  “So,” his voice sobered. He truly was immensely handsome. No doubt, all the more so for having been genuinely interested in what she had to say. “If you can’t figure out why others haven’t been able to replicate your, what did you call it? BLU Elixir?”

  She nodded. “I lose the committee’s support. If I don’t get back from this adventure on time, I’ll lose it anyways, so maybe I shouldn’t be so stressed. Truth be told, if I get back on time and figure out the problem with the elixir, I may lose support regardless. The committee isn’t particularly keen on werewolves just now. They’re more interested in flying jackets.” Her lips twisted to the side. “They do have a reputation for jumping at whatever sparkles.” Ineffective and somewhat childish, in her opinion. But it was, regardless, the truth.

  There was such kindness in Nathaniel’s eyes. Understanding. Sympathy. It was rare to find anyone who cared about what she accomplished in her laboratory. It warmed her from the inside out, threatening to pinken her cheeks. Turning away—he was willing to listen to her but she didn’t dare hope he’d understand if she suddenly blushed—and instead ran a hand down the glass, which in turn graced her fingertips with cold kisses. The dark blue ocean beyond stretched out before them. “But,” she said. “What else can I do but push forward? Keep persisting and hope that things work out in the end.”

  “In our short acquaintance,” Nathaniel said, his tone every bit as warm as his gaze had been, “I have come to believe you, Doctor Sterling, are nothing if not persistent.”

  lise stared down at the three, well-polished gears in front of her.

  All around, metal gleamed in various shades of bronze, copper, and tin. Tables were brimming with inlaid instruments. Gauges, gears, tubes, and hoses clicked and bubbled. It was nearly as good as being back in her laboratory.

  Seawoman Wimple strode over, the short woman’s thick boots striking the metal floor with each step.

  “This one”—Wimple pointed to the gear furthest to the right—“is the potassium chlorate.” Wimple’s dark chocolate skin and tight curly hair looked almost dusted with gold in the light of the gas burners hanging throughout the engineering room.

  “You.” Wimple’s finger moved from the gear to a test subject standing not far off. “What’s your name?” Everything the woman said was forceful and brooked no argument.

  “Mr. Tom Lenton, ma’am. Happy to help.” Lenton stood straight, which only emphasized his resemblance to a street gas-light pole, tall and thin.

  Wimple jabbed a thumb toward the gear furthest to the left, her unapologetic scowl emphasizing the crows-feet spreading out from her eyes.. “You take this one. I’ll check the temperature and holler if any of the injectors need opening.”

  Elise looked back at the fist-sized gear that was her responsibility. “What mixes with the potassium chlorate?”

  Wimple raised a single eyebrow. “What makes you think we don’t just burn it?”

  Elise checked the gauge along the wall at eye-level. A long needle behind glass hovered at the edge of the green, near the orange. “The engine runs too quietly.” Elise twisted the potassium chlorate gear with a slow, steady hand. It was precisely like mixing chemicals in her laboratory, only she was mixing chemicals inside a massive machine. Which, in turn, made the mixing all the more thrilling.

  “True, Doctor.” Though Wimple hadn’t once questioned that Elise bore the title of “Doctor”, her tone repeatedly fell flat when she used the word. As though she wasn’t convinced that books and years of research was enough to warrant any special attention. “We mix it with zinc and manganese dioxide. It creates a mixture that is hot enough to boil the vat of water and create steam, which in turns moves the propellers.”

  Though Elise hadn’t studied chemistry since her days attending the University, her work with werewolves had never led her far from it. “It would also create an effective oxygen candle.”

  “Very astute. The mixture not only propels us forward, but it keeps us all breathing as well. I am so pleased you figured as much out.” Wimple shook her head, and then strode further into the room and around a large cluster of pipes.

  Elise glanced over at Wimple’s retreating form. Did the woman dislike that Elise had taken to engineering so easily? Or was she just skeptical that anyone with fewer than twenty years sailing experience be trusted? Or, the woman’s coldness could be attributed to the fact that Elise had dragged Lenton, a werewolf, into the engineering room with her and insisted they be of service. Whatever the reason, Elise felt certain Wimple was not as excited to have her working the gears as Elise herself was.

  Lenton leaned over t
oward Elise. “I never done non’thin like this afore. Which way do I twist?”

  “Right to open. Left to close,” she instructed.

  “Even I should be able to keep that straight.”

  Elise liked Lenton. She’d worked with dozens of werewolves over the years, and at various times throughout their shape-shifting cycle. Yet not one of them had ever come close to being as upbeat as Tom Lenton. While most werewolves grew bitter that their futures were taken from them, and a more than a little cold and hostile as a way of protecting their secret—William’s face came to mind—Lenton had somehow managed to stay open and friendly. Many individuals in his economic situation didn’t stay cheerful as adults, let alone one who was also a werewolf.

  “More zinc,” Wimple called out.

  “Is that me?” Lenton asked Elise softly, pointing to the gear Wimple had assigned him.

  “Yes, that’s you,” Wimple replied, impatience clear in her tone.

  Lenton only smiled more and twisted his gear. Lenton’s good humor was one of the reasons she chose him to be the first one she pushed into helping the crew. Once the rest of the crew saw how beneficial it was to receive help from her test subjects, Elise sincerely hoped more would follow suit.

  The Gearhound pitched suddenly, sending Elise forward toward the gears in front of her. She nearly knocked her head against a row of pipes but caught herself just in time. Several surprised cries echoed from higher levels.

  “Too much!” Wimple hollered at her. The dark-skinned woman half climbed, half jumped around the pipes and over toward Elise and Lenton. Moving much faster than Elise could at the strange angle, Wimple closed the starboard burner gear and turned another a quarter to the right. The Gearhound slowly straightened out.

  Heart pounding, Elise pushed several strands of hair out of her face and back toward the coiffure at the case of her neck. That most certainly had never happened inside her laboratory. Risk of explosions, sure. But the entire building tilting to the side? Never.

  Wimple’s glare was murderous. “Next time, Mr. Lenton, a quarter turn to the right will be sufficient.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he chuckled.

  “When I said I was shorthanded, it didn’t mean I was needing a circus to inundate my engineering room.” She raised a finger towards Lenton’s smiling face. “You will be more cautious from here on out. Am I clear?”

  Elise felt a blossom of hope budding in her chest—Wimple had said ‘from here on out’. The statement implied Wimple expected Lenton to be down here working the gears for more than just today. Perhaps progress could be made after all.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lenton’s joviality was tampered a bit, but his good mood seemed unfazed.

  “Alright, come on you daft landlubbers, let’s try to get this right.” Wimple turned, and stalked back out of sight, behind the large pipes. Lenton was certainly the most polite werewolf Elise had ever met. Given a little more time, Elise felt confident he’d catch on and be a boon to Wimple. Though she’d bet a month’s worth of pin money that Wimple would never admit it.

  It truly was a shame Lenton wasn’t born to a different station in life. He’d have made a fine gentleman. He was far more mannered than another certain werewolf who was a gentleman.

  “More mang,” Wimple called.

  Before Elise could react, Lenton reached for the center gear and gave it the smallest of twists.

  She looked up at him surprised; he truly was catching on quick.

  He only shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

  “If you’re so lucky,” Wimple poked her head out. “Check on those gauges over there and tell me when we drop back into the green.”

  Lenton gave her a smart nod and moved to the other side of the engineering room, leaving Elise alone to handle all three gears. She mentally reviewed which gear controlled which chemical. Wimple may not like her, but she wasn’t going to prove any less than scientifically competent.

  “Elise!” William’s deep voice, tinged with anger, bellowed down the hatch from above. He climbed down the first rungs of the ladder and then dropped the rest of the way. “We’ve an issue up above.”

  What now? After four days at sea, her test subjects were still growing accustomed to their new living arrangements, and doing so more slowly than she would have expected. More than once, heated words had been exchanged.

  Though she normally found William in the center of the fray, it would seem that this time he was the one to come get her, instead of simply waiting until she and the rest of the crew could hear his threats from the opposite end of the submarine.

  Perhaps that was a small improvement worth noting.

  William walked directly up to Elise and rested a hand near the gears.

  “That idiot captain, and his idiot ideas.” He didn’t lower his voice though he stood inches away. His overly loud voice so near her face felt as though he was spewing acid which burned against her cheeks and collar bone.

  Wimple called out again. “A little more mang, and take down the potassium.”

  Elise did as she was told, while also trying to put a small bit of distance between her and William. Few things put her on edge like being yelled at.

  “I’m needed here right now.” Whatever Captain Hopkins was doing, it couldn’t be that horrible. William tended to overreact. Moreover, for some reason Elise could not understand, William had taken an immediate disliking to the captain.

  “Pressure’s leveling out,” Lenton said to Wimple, and then looked over his shoulder at Elise. “I can cover for you here.”

  “Now, Doctor,” Wimple said. “Second gear from the right, turn a very little bit.”

  Elise lifted her hand to the gear, but before she could twist it at all William took hold of her elbow and began pulling her away.

  “Lenton will handle it. You’re needed in the galley.”

  Elise yanked her elbow out of his grasp. Her lips pinched tight.

  “I will go in a minute, once Seawoman Wimple no longer needs my help.” She kept her voice even. Professional. “Whatever is happening with the Captain just now can wait, I am certain, until the submarine is stabilized.” Elise turned her back on William, ignoring the blazing anger in his eyes. She twisted the correct gear just shy of a quarter turn. The Gearhound rocked slightly underfoot.

  “Ease up a bit, Doctor.” Wimple’s voice came from closer to Elise than she expected. Surprised, Elise turned to find the Seawoman standing only a couple strides away, leaning with her shoulder against the large pipes, an enormous wrench in her hand.

  Elise turned the gear back toward the left—just a hair.

  Wimple spoke to Elise, but her eyes were locked on William. “That will do.” Her gaze narrowed. “Cunningham, this is my engineering room, and in here a woman chooses where she goes and with whom.”

  Though Wimple and Elise were experts in very different areas, it appeared they had at least one opinion in common.

  William glared back at Wimple and folded is arms. “If you care to see what is happening above us,” his words to Elise were short and sarcastic. “I believe an issue has arisen that could use your attention.”

  Elise turned to Wimple. “Am I still needed here?”

  “Lenton and I can manage. You are dismissed.”

  Elise turned, keeping her chin high lest William see how much his fury had rankled, and followed him up the ladder toward the galley above.

  “One more thing, Cunningham,” Wimple called as they neared the top of the ladder. “Call my Captain an idiot again and I’ll be using your backside to clean out the combustion chamber.”

  y supper time, Elise was willing to hog-tie William and demand that Wimple follow through on her threat. She was quite certain his backside needed the experience of cleaning out the combustion chamber.

  While most everyone seemed to be still walking on egg shells, which made Elise’s back ache from tension, William had made matters ever so much worse by repeatedly pulling her away from responsibilities and projects to insist
she fix whatever was taking place and not to his liking.

  As it had turned out, William had dragged her away from helping in the engineering room only to find Captain Hopkins doing no more than rearranging chambers, placing crewmembers in the same rooms as test subjects to better build trust among the two groups. When Elise had told William it was her idea, he’d only swore louder.

  Later, she had a few minutes to herself and decided to use the time to set up a small laboratory. Elise had brought along an old medicine cabinet she’d re-purposed to hold various chemicals and tinctures she may need should the experiment turn south.

  Rowley had pointed her toward a small, well-secured table which was bolted to the wall not far from the jail cells. Elise felt it a prime location for her makeshift laboratory. Just as she was setting her cabinet atop the table, William stormed in declaring he’d been cheated out of a hundred pounds while playing cards with Brownsea, the crew’s chief navigator. How that was Elise’s fault or responsibility she simply could not see.

  The final straw came at supper. Elise had sat, watching her test subjects sit on one side of the room while the crew sat on the other. Granted, they hadn’t been at sea long, and changing the bedchamber situation would hopefully help the groups grow comfortable around one another. But, the stress tying up her gut wouldn’t ease. Then, William had entered and sat himself directly next to her.

  “Must be easy,” he said with grumble. “All you have to worry about is taking little notes in your book and not being such a butterfingers as to blow a hole in the submarine with your chemicals.”

  Elise had made a polite excuse, and withdrawn.

  Easy time, indeed. Elise grabbed hold of the ladder and began climbing down. Was that what he thought? She did nothing but scribble frivolous notes and keep all her beakers and vials from tipping into one another? Of all the yelling and blaming he’d done that day, nothing stung as smartly as him degrading her work.