by Mark Fenger
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Two hours later Tom’s chest felt like it had been front-and-centre at a cattle stampede, he was hot and dirty, and no closer to finding the woman’s secret hiding spot, but he did have a good feel for the layout of Hecate. She was a roomy craft, with berths for twelve crew, a well-appointed captain’s quarters and beside it a small but luxurious suite, obviously intended for the mysterious passenger. That was a bit of a head scratcher, because the vanity, complete with expensive soaps, brushes and make-up, wardrobe full of fine clothes and even the four-poster bed all appeared completely unused. There was a mess hall that could fit all former passengers and crew if they squeezed in tight with a decently appointed galley and full larder. An armoury with enough guns and ammunition to impress even Agatha, and far more than any ordinary trader would need (Tom strapped on a revolver that Agatha recommended to him while they were there). There was even a well kitted-out machine room, with every tool a man could need to keep Hecate in proper running order if he knew what he was about. Lastly, a cargo bay, underneath the crew-portion of the gondola was accessed by climbing down a companionway. It had enough room to fit a stagecoach and a team of horses, and had a two-ton winch elevator.
“We’ve got only one engine, it keeps overheating, but it runs, also full rudders and bladder control.” Nikki reported when Tom and Agatha returned.
Tom sniggered.
“The gas bladder dimwit!” Nikki threw out her lower jaw.
“Aw, don’t pout. Makes you look like a man.”
Nikki went red and gritted her teeth. “With only one engine we can barely manage a straight course with the rudder full-over. If the wind blows us too far starboard we’ll have to do a complete three-sixty to get back on track.”
“What kind of speed can you manage?”
Nikki shrugged. “Top speed, ten, maybe twelve knots. Slower if the wind forces us to circle around a lot, and I need to rest the engine forty-five minutes of every hour to keep it from overheatin’.”
“Fuel?”
“Gauges are smashed, so I had Agatha check the tanks. She says they’re completely full.”
“Any chance of getting the other three engines going, or better cooling on the one?”
“Not as it stands.” Nikki swept a hand over a badly beaten-up portion of the panel. “It took all I know to get that one going.”
Tom rubbed his jaw. “I see. Anyone know how to fix it?” He looked each of them in the eye in turn. “Right then.” He flopped down in the Captain’s chair. “Willow, plot us a course for the nearest place we can get some repairs done.”
“Aye Captain.” Willow grinned at him.
Agatha frowned. “He’s not the Captain!”
“Got the charts right here Captain.” Willow glanced down at her plotting table and shoved Sir Furrybottom to the side. “Should be a coupla days if Nikki can hold a fairly straight course.”
“Pilot Nikki, take your sister’s course direction. Both of you teach Agatha enough so she can take shifts.”
Agatha snorted. “I don’t take orders from you.”
Tom shrugged. “It makes sense, you’ve gotta admit.”
Agatha shook her head. “And what’re you gonna be doin’?”
Tom stood and walked to the door. “I am going to fix us some proper grub.” On the threshold he turned back. “Oh, I nearly forgot. So long as we haven’t found our mystery guest, Nikki and Willow is always to be accompanied by me or Agatha or in a safely locked room.”
As he turned and walked away he heard Willow’s “Aye Captain,” followed immediately by Agatha, “He’s not the Captain!”
End of Episode 1
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