Buried In Blue

by L G Rollins

  The control room was almost empty. Most of the crew was eating their last meal of the day. Some had already retired to bed, needing to awaken well before the sun to take their next shift. The movement of the crew from one shift to the next was smooth and well-calculated. Each individual knew where they were to be and when.

  They knew when they could rest or pull out a deck of cards, and when they were required to be at their assigned station. It was not only the Gearhound who was a well oiled machine, but the crew as well. What she wouldn’t give for a bit of that confidence born from practiced experience. Everything about life on the submarine as wholly new to her. That newness seemed to be forever leaving the sour taste of uncertainty in her mouth.

  “Can I help you, Doctor?” Rowley stood in the center of the room, framed by the large window at the nose of the submarine, the helm rocking back and forth between his hands.

  “Thank you, no.” Not unless Rowley knew how to keep William from harassing her all the day long. “I though I would head down to my small laboratory and try and get some work done before retiring.”

  “Is that working out for you then?” He turned his face back to the window and the black sea before him. “Sorry the table’s so small. I could possibly find another small table and put them together if you need more space. Though I don’t know how we’d bolt it down, and nothing on a submarine is safe if it isn’t bolted in place.”

  Just how rocky could things get within a submarine? Sailing under the surface meant they weren’t pushed about by waves like ships above. Thus far, it had been exceptionally smooth. So much so, Elise had more than once forgotten she was at sea. “What you set up for me will be quite fine. Thank you for securing my medicine cabinet as well.” Both Rowley and the Captain had insisted everything be secured down. So, undoubtedly, they’d hit some rocking eventually.

  “My pleasure. If you’re interested, we’ve reached deeper waters and are now sailing several thousand kilometers down.”

  The news made Elise feel slightly light-headed. She glanced over at the inky blackness beyond the window. Where they truly that deep? “Thank you, Rowley. That is good to be aware of.” Elise took hold of the ladder and began climbing down again. She shouldn’t feel queasy knowing there was enough water above her head to crush her—she shouldn’t feel squeamish knowing that, if necessary, she could not swim to the surface before all the oxygen in her body was gone and she suffocated.

  Elise reached the engineering room. Light from the open hatch above her head spilled onto the engineering room, tracing the outline of pipes, gaskets, and gears. But everything else remained lost in shadow, dark and empty.

  She rested her forehead against the cold ladder. She would not let her uncertainties bother her. True, this was all new territory for her, but she wasn’t going to let that rankle. Elise continued to climb down, and into the cargo hold. She could handle this. She was a grown woman—daughter of the woman who almost single handedly changed society to allow other women to attend the University.

  Gracious, if Elise could handle William then she certainly could handle being on a submarine below the surface.

  Elise sat at the simple chair bolted to the floor beside her table. She’d intended on checking that every bottle inside was organized and to her liking, but instead she only sat, hands limp in her lap.

  “What has your medicine cabinet done this time to deserve such a stare?” Lord Chauncey’s shaky voice came from behind her.

  Elise shook her head, then turned so that her back was toward the empty cells. “Why did I ever let you and William talk me into proposing this experiment to the committee?”

  Lord Chauncey, leaning heavily on his cane, hobbled around until he was facing her. “You are doing a wondrous thing, my dear.” He patted her hand.

  Elise struggled to keep her eyes from rolling. “It was your idea.”

  “Ah, yes. But you were brilliant enough to see how ingenious it was.”

  “We both know, I was backed into a corner.”

  “True. But then, necessity is the mother of invention. Or, in this case, the mother of discovery.”

  She twisted her lips to the side. Well, for better or for worse, she was in it now. It was far too late to back out, no matter her worries about the future. Elise picked up her workbook and opened it.

  “I thought you were headed to bed.” Elise flipped the book open. If she ever hoped to once more gain the unwavering support of the committee, a detailed account of this experiment was imperative.

  “I was. But then I realized, I very well could be dead within the year,” he said quite piously, as though, in death, he would most certainly be memorialized. “I’d hate to go to my grave knowing I had not supported you to the best of my ability.”

  “You’re far from death.” Though, not nearly so far from vanity. It was probably best that such self-admiration did not cause one’s throat to swell liked it did one’s head. Elise took up her mechanical pen, her favorite for the smooth way it dispensed ink across the page. “And you’ve supported me more than anyone else.” In some ways, he’d supported her better than her own parents.

  Lord Chauncey placed a hand atop the book. “One moment, if you please. I have something to say to you.”

  Oh dear, she knew that tone. Elise placed her pen back on the table and sat back. “I though I was too old for you to lecture.” The last time was before she’d begun at the University.

  “See, that was an unwise assumption. You will never be too old for me to care enough to speak my mind.”

  I suppose I’ll just have to wait until you’re too old and have grown senile, Elise though wryly. But he was too dear to her to say so aloud.

  “Elise.” Lord Chauncey leaned forward, both his hands, one covering the other, atop his cane. “I have known you since you were born. Do you have any idea just how shrill your cry was every time Hugo poked at you?”

  Was he going all the way back to her birth? That certainly didn’t bode well. He was probably trying to arouse feelings of sentimentality and fondness for him, just so he could hit her with some rather harsh criticism.

  Elise glanced down at her workbook, where she kept all her notes. Was it too much to ask that she be given a few minutes of silent introspection? “A girl has to stand up for herself. Prove she should be taken seriously.”

  “Agreed. However, I wonder if you haven’t taken that a tad too far.”

  “Pardon me?” How could anyone overdo being taken seriously?

  Lord Chauncey raised a hand, palm out. “Now before you bite my head off, hear me out. You work in a field that values facts and sound processes, not emotions or intuition. I understand that. But, my dear, you hardly ever smile any more. I cannot recall the last time I saw you laughing or at your leisure.”

  “Excuse me, but I’ve been a mite stressed with the experiment and the committee’s threatening to remove their support.” The words came out with more sting than she’d intended. See, this is why she had to remain professional. Un-bottled emotions could be wild and unpredictable—and unnerving.

  Elise’s gaze dropped to his two hands, wrinkled yet far from lazy. He had a point. Her work consumed her life—she also could not remember the last time she’d taken a moment to relax and enjoy herself.

  “Once this is all done,” Elise said, patting Lord Chauncey’s arm. “Once we are home and the committee has come around, then I will stop and smile and laugh and relax. You’ll see.”

  Lord Chauncey only shook his head. “If you wait, it will be too late. I’m old enough to know. You can’t wait for life to be easy before you take time to enjoy it.” Pulling away from her, he shifted his weight, using his cane to balance himself.

  “This is it.” He motioned toward the cells and the empty cargo hold around them, his fervor swelling each word. “This is the time you have to enjoy yourself. Life only happens in the now.”

  He must really feel she was utterly failing to enjoy life for him to speak so adamantly.

  �
�All I’m asking,” Lord Chauncey finished. “Is to see you smile more. You’ve closed yourself off a lot these past few years.” He reached out and patted her shoulder. “It’s time to stop worrying about if everyone thinks you’re competent or not.”

  A yawn broke through and Lord Chauncey covered his mouth with a hand. “And now, my dear, you must excuse me. I am a spry old man, but being such at my age requires more sleep than one might imagine.” With a wink, he strolled off and up the ladder.

  Elise sat, wordless, as he left. Her gaze slowly fell back toward her table and cabinet, her scientific workbook and pen. Beside them were some bars of caesium and a few bottles of sodium chloride. Was he right?

  Had she taken convincing everyone she was competent too far? Elise picked up her workbook and moved toward the ladders. Nathaniel had said the observation room was a good place to sort through one’s thoughts. If ever Elise needed to do so, it was now.

  It was colder in the observation room. Elise walked to the glass and peered out into the darkness. The glass reflected the image of her own face back at her.

  No smile graced her expression. She lifted the sides of her mouth. The forced smile felt fake and awkward. Gracious, Lord Chauncey was right. Elise shut her eyes and rubbed the side of her head with one hand.

  This wasn’t who she wanted to be. All sour determination and no joy. Someone who was respected, but not quite liked. A grown woman who’s wrinkles came exclusively from frowns and not smiles. Elise turned and pressed her back against the glass.

  She’d simply have to find a way to keep the determination and lose the sourness. Keep the respect, and also be liked. Not in a fake way, not like many of her peers. But in a sincere way.

  Perhaps she could start by smiling more. Maybe even attend a ball or two with Addie when she returned home.

  There. It was decided.

  She felt good about the decision, too. Elise slid down the wall until she sat atop the glass floor. She would return to England with not only a deeper understanding of werewolves, but be a better person as well.

  *****

  A pulsating blue light flickered over the top of her workbook. Elise looked up from the various notes and observances she was recording in an orderly print across the page. The strange light fell through the hatch from the floor above.

  What would make a blue light? All the gas lamps aboard burned orange. Elise rested her pen atop the pages and shut the book on it. All was still, not a single murmured word or foot step echoed from above. She crossed to the hatch and climbed up the ladder.

  The blue light was not emanating from there, however, but from higher up. It cascaded down one ladder to the next like water. It bathed Elise, making her white laboratory coat appear a light sapphire. Strong, then weak, then strong once more, the light seemed to tug her forward. It brought not only illumination, but an eerie stillness.

  There wasn’t a problem with the engine, was there? What kind of chemicals, when mixed, emitted bursts of blue light? Elise climbed up into the engineering room. It was far more silent than she’d ever experienced on the submarine. Where was everyone? She understood that at least a small team of crewmembers were awake and keeping things running smoothly and on course at all times.

  If that was true, where were they now?

  Elise reached out with a hand and rested it against the large stack of pipes Wimple had worked behind earlier that day and peered around the pipes. Blue light fell on a control panel. It seemed to be coming from around yet another set of pipes.

  Elise took in a deep breath. A sharp white swirled among the blue. It most certainly did not look to be coming from a chemical reaction. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. The air seemed to grow heavy.

  Something was wrong. There was a mugginess to the air that had not been there that morning.

  Heart beating frantic against her ribs, Elise shoved down her apprehensions and moved deeper into the engineering room.

  Moving up close to the next set of pipes, Elise stuck her head out just barely enough to see around the corner.

  An aged man, glowing blue, stood over a set of gauges. His hair was long and draped over his shoulders like old ropes. He wore a long jacket and tall, thick boots. His finger tapped gently against his chin. His skin, blue as was the rest of him, appeared slightly transparent.

  Elise sucked in a harsh breath and tucked herself back behind the pipes. A ghost? Here on the submarine? Gears above, if the Gearhound was haunted Captain Nathaniel should have said something. Unless he didn’t know. Elise shut her eyes tight.

  Logically speaking, there was always a chance she was hallucinating. Diving deep effected different people in different ways. Hallucinations could very well be the preliminary symptoms of depth sickness. Hadn’t she read about that somewhere?

  There was a deep rumble; the ghost was muttering to himself.

  Did hallucinations come with sound? Elise had always assumed they were only something one saw.

  She peered around the pipes once more. He still stood there, muttering to himself as he studied the contraption before him. Elise had read many accounts regarding ghosts. Most experts agreed that ghosts were only seen by those they wished to be seen by.

  Well, if she could see him, then there was probably a reason. Perhaps he needed to speak with her, or had questions of her. Elise drew her shoulders back. What ever the reason, she best be about it.

  Elise stepped out. How exactly was the polite way to greet a ghost? Considering all she’d stumbled upon regarding other-worldly beings, it suddenly felt quite lacking that she’d never seen a book on proper etiquette for such a situation.

  “Hello?” Elise was proud her voice did not quiver, goodness knew her hands were doing enough of it.

  The ghost whirled around, the long tails of his old fashioned coat spun with him and slapped silently against his knee length breeches. His gaze found hers and his eyes narrowed into slits. Fear pricked against the back of her neck and all down her spine. The ghost’s hands clenched into tight fists.

  Perhaps making her presence known hadn’t been the wisest move. While ghosts, by definition, were disembodied, it didn’t mean they couldn’t harm one. Elise had even met once with an old man who’d in confidence admitted to her that he’d not been maimed by a werewolf, as the neighbors purported, but by a bludgeon wielding ghost. It seemed being disembodied only made it so the living could not hurt a ghost, it did nothing to stop a ghost from hurting the living.

  He flicked a hand to his left and metal around her groaned. Elise took half a step back. At least she was aboard a submarine where everything was bolted down. She glanced surreptitiously about her. Everything was bolted down, right?

  “Where’s yer captain, lass?” His voice was deep and rough. Not at all like the ethereal wailing described in the accounts she’d read. Though, she supposed it made sense that ghosts would be as varied as the living they once were.

  He waited for her to respond. The air seemed to grate against her skin like a rough stone. Though ghosts could hurt the living, they were usually considered less deadly than a werewolf. Nonetheless, werewolves did not permeate the air with such an overwhelming sense of anxiety. It was as though someone had just walked over her grave.

  “Do you have a message I can take to him for you?” That was why ghost appeared to the living, to bring them messages. Perhaps if she willingly listened to his message, he would leave.

  “Aye, I’ve a message. But it’s one I’ll be delivering myself.” The ghost turned his back on Elise and strode through the submarine wall without making a noise. All light seemed to be sucked out of the room as he left. Heart racing, Elise blinked until her eyes adjusted to the dark. The tension in the air evaporated the moment he slipped through the wall. Elise breathed deeply. Gracious, it had been like breathing molasses while the ghost had been present.

  She moved over to the control panel the ghost had been eying. It didn’t appear he’d tampered with anything. What was a ghost doing haunting
them under the ocean? She’d never heard of such a thing.

  Was the ghost off to find Captain Hopkins this moment? Or would he wait until another night to reappear? Elise wrapped a hand around her neck. She was trembling. Whether it was her hand shaking or her whole self, she couldn’t tell.

  Captain Hopkins was asleep in his chambers, with Melissa, she believed. The ghost had seemed none too pleased; did he mean to harm the captain? Or his daughter? Elise hurried through the engineering room and back toward the ladder, then paused.

  Down in the cargo hold, with all her other research and chemicals, might there be information that would prove helpful just now? She couldn’t recall everything she’d ever written down, but she was certain there was something about ghosts in her papers. So many people clumped all para-humans together: werewolves, ghosts, vampires, the un-dead. When interviewing victims she’d often learn about far more than werewolves.

  Elise grabbed the ladder tightly. She’d hurry down and check her papers first, just to be on the safe side. Information often proved the difference between the dangerous and the safe. Then Elise would find the captain.

  ho would have ever guessed that a little girl could make so many noises when she slept?

  Nathaniel rolled his shoulders as he stalked down the hallway between bedchambers. It didn’t seem like Melissa was having a nightmare, only a very active dream. She was probably romping around somewhere she shouldn’t be in her mind, just as she was wont to do while awake.

  Nathaniel reached the dining room and strode quickly between the long tables which ran parallel with the walkway between the oval door he’d just moved through and the door in front of him which led to the kitchen. A cup of tea was all he needed and then he’d try to sleep once more. A cup of tea, and a break from Melissa’s snorts, strange giggles, and mumbled words.

  Gads, what was he going to do with her? Nathaniel reached the kitchen, pulled out a mug and rummaged through a drawer for a bag of tea leaves. He’d learned much about his daughter in the few days at sea. At seven, she was still young and impressionable and eager for whatever seemed fun and exciting at the time. But there were moments when she surprised him with maturity and intelligence.