The City that Time forgot

by Patrick McClafferty

  As the white bow of the steamship passed the harbor breakwater, Captain Evvos pushed the telegraph lever from Dead Slow to Slow. The telegraph returned the command, and Gareth could feel the ship surge ahead, despite the fact that they were steaming into a head wind. He smiled. The scent of the sea was sharp, and beneath that he could smell the comfortable odor of fresh lumber, paint and oil. The regular thrum of the engines transmitted up through his feet like a heartbeat.

  “Set our course for the Pleakuynope Passage.” Evvos said without a smile. “When we’ve cleared Pleakuynope we will come to a heading of one hundred and thirty degrees and hold that course for the next few weeks. That should put us close to our destination.”

  The helmsman swallowed. “Weeks? Capin’, those be uncharted waters. We’re apt to sail right off the edge of the world.”

  “We should be so lucky.” The Captain rumbled. “There’s an island out there named Ojor Cay, and a great city named Jafelon.” Evvos rubbed his jaw. “It’s not a place ye’d like to bring the kiddies to on vacation.” He finished sourly. Gareth and Chiu had sat down with Captain Evvos before they set sail and had a long talk about their destination, and its hazards.

  There were two cargo holds on the SS Spray, taking up much of the lower decks from amidships forward and amidships aft, with the center of the ship containing the boiler and engines. The aft cargo hold was divided in half again, with the forward portion reserved for coal and water, while the aft cargo area held all the food and sundry supplies for the ship and crew. For this particular trip the forward cargo area had been given to the marines. Their gear was neatly stowed in the aft end of the cargo area, while hammocks and berths occupied the front. The rest of the cargo hold the marines used for training, Gareth was glad to see. The wily marine Sergeant drafted Gareth as soon as he discovered that Gareth was a certified instructor in hand to hand combat. While Gareth complained, he realized that it was probably just as well to keep in shape, so he grudgingly allotted two hours a day to teach Martial Arts to the marines. It gave him a start when he realized that he was probably the only qualified instructor on the entire planet. Chuckling to himself, he realized that he’d come thirty eight thousand years into the future just to become chung sah nim, or Chief Master Instructor. In Basic Training one of the games of choice during their scant free time had been an old classic named HALO. Now, it seemed, he was stuck in the role of Master Chief, with Athena as his Cortana.

  They were a full day’s steaming past the Pleakuynope Passage, when the small speaker that was mounted in the owner’s suite squawked abrasively, jerking Gareth from a deep, dream-filled sleep. Blinking gritty eyes, he touched the small button at the side of the speaker. “I’m up.” He croaked. “What’s the problem?” Chiu or Lyndra, he couldn’t tell which, made a small growl from her warm position under the blankets.

  “Sorry to wake you, Mister Gareth.” It was Captain Evvos himself, and Gareth woke up a little more. “There are three ships coming at us out of the rising sun. It may be nothing, but I suspect pirates.”

  Gareth grinned. “Wake the marines and have the gun crew meet me on deck.”

  “It be a fight then?” The captain asked nervously.

  “No Captain Evvos, it will not be a fight.” Gareth replied grimly, pulling on his pants. “It will be a training exercise. The marines will get experience using the deck gun, and the pirates will get the experience of swimming home.” His smile was feral. “The story will spread amongst the pirates of the great white steamship that is absolutely not to be screwed with.” He pulled on his boots and a shirt, heading for the door.

  “You will not go out of here looking like a hayseed who’s just rolled out of a haystack.” Chiu, wearing one of his large shirts and nothing else was standing before him, her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. He did his best to suppress the lecherous grin. “You are the instructor of those young marines today, and you will look the part.” She said as she handed him a clean shirt cut in a military manner. She watched critically as he dressed. “Brush your hair.” He complied silently. “Good.” A smile tugged the corners of her lips. “Now give us a kiss and go do what you do best; wreak havoc.”

  He was glad he was properly dressed when he arrived at the deck gun. Of the ten marines before him only three were properly attired: the sergeant, a corporal and a private first class. Gareth turned to glare at the sergeant, purposely ignoring the three approaching pirate ships that were a scant thousand meters away and approaching fast. Gareth put his hands on his hips. “Is this how you let your troops turn out, Sergeant Masato? I must admit, I’m disappointed.” The barrel-chested sergeant looked at the deck. “You will escort your troops below to change into proper uniforms. The Corporal, the PFC and I will deal with the pirates.” The sergeant still hadn’t raised his head. “Go! Now!” Gareth shouted at the top of his lungs. The sergeant jumped, grabbed the nearest marine and headed for the companionway. Unfortunately, the nearest marine was a young woman with only a blanket wrapped around her.

  Gareth thought for a moment the sergeant was going to explode. “A blanket, Sharian? You came up with a bloody blanket?” He jerked the blanket off the young woman to leave her shivering in her scant underwear. Gareth raised an eyebrow. “Get below and get changed, all of you except Corporal Xianliang and PFC Yong. Move it!” He growled. They moved.

  Gareth turned to the two remaining marines. “Don’t just stand there, marines, unless you’d like to invite the pirates for breakfast. Get the cover off that gun.” As they removed the stiff cover Gareth pushed a red button beside the gun. A bell rang somewhere, and a moment later the brass rectangle set into the deck rose up. Beneath it sat a rack of a half dozen brass-cased artillery shells. Gareth grinned. “Now, release the clamps and we’ll swing the gun around.” The corporal and the private looked around for a moment before they saw and released the deck clamps. Still smiling, Gareth pushed the gun, swiveling it in generally the direction of the approaching pirates. “Now, I’ll demonstrate. Watch closely.” He undogged the breech and swung it open, picked up a shell and slid it in. He closed and dogged the breech in one smooth motion. “Your gun is loaded and ready to fire now. Always remember your windage and elevation.” He spun small well-greased wheels, and the barrel declined, moving slightly to the right. “Look at where I have the sights set.” Only four hundred meters away, they could see the faces of the pirates clearly as they stood ready to board the great white ship. The pale faced Corporal and Private glanced at the sights, and back to Gareth, nodding uncertainly. Gareth checked his sights again, made a slight adjustment, and fired. The crash of the small deck gun was deafening, and the air was filled with the smell of burning nitrocellulose-based smokeless gunpowder. On the approaching pirate ship, they all saw the base of the mainmast explode in a cloud of deadly splinters, and slowly fall over the port side of the ship. Gareth opened the breech, removed the spent casing and reloaded a new round. The drag of the sails had turned the pirate ship nearly broadside to them. “Now I remove their rudder.” He adjusted the gun and fired. With a crash of sound, the rudder of the pirate ship burst into a million fragments. “Now it’s your turn,” He said turning to the corporal. “Don’t do anything fancy. Shoot for the hull, right at the waterline. There are two ships left; one for each of you.” Gareth grinned, stepping back. “I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you.” He said mildly.

  The young corporal swallowed, wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and stepped up to the gun. His first shot went high, striking the railing and ships wheel, blasting the pirate helmsman into a bloody ruin. He swallowed, reloaded and readjusted.

  Looking over his shoulder, Gareth said softly. “Remember to take in the drop of your shell. Raise your sight a bit… there!” The gun barked, a hole appearing as if by magic at the waterline, and Gareth knew that there was probably a much larger hole on the far side of the ship, where the round had passed straight through. The progress of the pirate raider suddenly fell off as the ship settled deeper into ea
ch swell.

  “I got him!” The young corporal cried, jumping up from behind the gun.

  “Yes you did, but don’t jump up like that. If there is enemy infantry you will be asking to get shot yourself.” He turned to the private. “Next?”

  The young PFC looked very pale and very young as she approached. “They’re running away, sir!”

  Gareth glanced over his shoulder. “So much the better. We have no worries now. Load the gun, Private.”

  “Yes Sir!” The private was somewhat quicker loading the gun than the corporal, but then she’d had the experience of watching the gun loaded and fired four times before it was her turn. Closing and dogging the breech, she turned to Gareth. “Where do I aim?”

  He smiled grimly. “Put both shots right in the stern windows of that ship.”

  “But…”

  “The shots will tear the guts out of the ship, and finally tear their way through the bow.” The private said nothing more, but made her adjustments, and fired. After the second shot the fleeing raider seemed to bury its nose in a wave and come to a shuddering halt. Both fore and mainmasts fell in a tangle as the ship quickly settled. Gareth sighed. It hadn’t been a fight… it had been a slaughter. “Secure the brass and secure the gun. Later, after breakfast you can come up to clean the gun and check for wear.”

  Grinning like Cheshire cats, the two marines snapped to attention. “Aye aye, Sir.”

  Gareth returned the grin. “Carry on then.” He almost bumped into Chiu as he turned away from the gun. She was watching what was left of the pirate force disappear astern.

  “You crippled the first ship so that the survivors of the second and third wouldn’t be condemned to drowning.”

  In the distance he could see the crippled ship lowering gigs to rescue the swimming pirates. “Something like that. Those pirates know that I let them live. They know I could have sunk them as easily as we sank the last two. The tale will spread and the pirates will run when they see this ship.” He chuckled dryly. “A battle I don’t have to fight is better than a battle won.”

  Chiu frowned. “If you say so.”

  The dolphins arrived the next day, cavorting in the Spray’s bow wave and doing astounding flips and somersaults to the amazement of both the crew and the marines. It was the last pleasant thing that was to happen for the next week, because when the dolphins departed with the sunset they took with them the fair weather. Squall after squall slammed the steamship, and half the crew along with three quarters of the marines could barely get out of their bunks to reach the heads. The entire ship smelled vaguely of vomit. On the eighth day the clouds disappeared and the sun came out.

  There were chagrined faces at gunnery practice two days after the storms when Gareth announced that Corporal Xianliang and PFC Yong were the new gunnery captains, due to their vast experience of one confirmed kill each, and positive marine attitude. Two dozen rounds were fired during the practice session, and Gareth found himself satisfied, for the most part, with the marines. The next day at hand-to-hand training Gareth found himself staring at both Corporal Xianliang and PFC Yong, who stood before him in their training gear consisting of a light shirt and shorts, sporting black eyes. PFC Yong limped slightly from a dark purple bruise that ran from her hip to her knee. Gareth knew the signs.

  “What happened to you two?” His voice was soft, but the sergeant winced at the tone.

  Corporal Xianliang spoke first. “We slipped on a bar of soap, sir.” He said just as softly, looking at the floor.

  “You too?” He asked the private standing at the corporal’s side. She just nodded.

  Stepping back two paces he could feel his teeth grinding as he studied the marines before him. At the back of the small formation four large marines, standing close together, were staring at the two before Gareth. There was hate in their eyes. Gareth’s gaze fell on the sergeant. “Sergeant… a word in private.” He turned and left the room. Stepping into the rear cargo area, he waited for the Sergeant to follow, and then shut the door behind them. “How in the bloody hell could you let a thing like this happen?” He growled as soon as he turned back.

  The sergeant sighed. “Leng Zihao and his three cronies are children of senators and ministers. I was told in so many words not to bother them. They thought that they should have been appointed gun captains, rather than Xianliang and Yong. They were expressing their displeasure.”

  Gareth could feel his anger swelling, and knew his face was reddening. “If I had a replacement, I would relieve you for cause, Sergeant.” He found himself shaking, and he bit his tongue. “Have you briefed your men and women on what to expect when we reach the island?” The sergeant nodded. “Did they believe what you told them?”

  “Leng Zihao laughed at me.” The sergeant said softly.

  Gareth tasted blood. “Here is what you will do. When we get to our destination, we will need a scouting party. Leng and his cronies will be assigned this important and prestigious task.” Leaning forward, his eyes narrowed. “Leng, his friends and no one else. Have I made myself clear?”

  “But…” The sergeant began, stuttering. “What happens if they get hurt?”

  “Get hurt?” Gareth laughed without mirth. “They won’t listen to directions or warnings, and will just bull their way in. I expect that they will get eaten.” The smile died on Gareth’s face. “My mission is to save this whole world, sergeant. If those four get in my way I will kill them. If the senators or ministers who are their parents get in my way, I will kill them too, all with the approval of the Nine. The rulers of Oseothan know that if I do not succeed, you will all die. Have I made myself clear?”

  Sergeant Masato stared at him. “You’re a killer.” He whispered.

  Gareth’s show of teeth made the so-called marine Sergeant take a step back. “I am indeed a stone-cold killer, Sergeant. I am also a United States Marine. A marine watches his buddy’s back, just as his buddy watches his. You and your sorry bunch wouldn’t qualify as mall rent-a-cops where I come from. You failed your charges, Sergeant. That young man and that young woman counted on you to watch their backs, and you failed. You thought of your own comfort and safety instead. Now you will carry out my orders or I will see you relieved of your duties. Do you understand?”

  “You’re going to kill them!” The sergeant repeated, wide-eyed.

  “No Sergeant, I am simply going to send them on a dangerous mission to collect very important intelligence. They are going to find out just how deadly Ojor Cay really is.” He glared at the sergeant. “Hand to hand training is cancelled until the return trip.” Gareth said with a snarl, then turned and without a further word left the cargo hold.

  ~~~

  Ojor Cay could have been something straight from a tourist brochure for French Polynesia or the Western Caribbean before the tourists in their cruise ships despoiled the natural beauty. At one hundred kilometers in diameter, the far edge of the crescent bay was invisible over the horizon. A full cable from the sandy beach when they anchored, the ship sat with her engines at standby, a thin trickle of smoke rising from her stack, ready for a fast getaway. The two crewmen who had rowed the party ashore stayed in the boat at Gareth’s orders, a half cable from the shore. Leng Zihao, the largest of the group of four pushed through the brush laughing, his carbine slung casually over his shoulder. The rest followed at an easy, relaxed pace. Gareth had warned the four of the dangers, warned them to follow game trails if they could, and to avoid foliage and insects. As with the sergeant, they scoffed at him, calling him an old lady as they patted the stocks of their primitive carbines confidently.

  At Gareth’s orders the rest of the marine compliment stood at the starboard railing watching the serene jungle. Ten minutes passed. Somewhere a bird squawked, and then a man screamed; a loud pain-filled shriek that went on and on, before it was finally cut off abruptly. The marines flinched at the sound of gunshots, then there was another cry that stopped unexpectedly, nearly as soon as it had begun. More shots rang out, and a yell of
pain. A man suddenly burst out of the brush, beating madly at his bare back and arms. From their distance he appeared to be covered with crawling black spots. A sailor from the gig made a move to go to his aid, but Gareth gave a sharp whistle, and gestured that they were to return to the ship. The running man stumbled on the beach, falling face down in the sand a dozen meters from the water’s edge. The skin on his back and arms continued to ripple with its own motion, and then the body seemed to sag in on itself as if it were deflating. The sailors were pulling the small boat for the Spray as hard and fast as possible.

  Gareth turned to the marines. “What did I tell them, marines? I told them that this was a dangerous place, probably the most dangerous place they could ever possibly be. I told them to be very very careful not to disturb anything. They laughed at me. Now they are dead. I do regret the loss of their weapons.” He looked at the slightly green men and women. “This is a hostile world, and the only ones you have to look out for you is you, and the man or woman standing beside you. Remember that.” Spinning on his heel, he stormed off. In the bridge he faced a shaken Captain Evvos. “Take us out if you would, Captain. Anchor a kilometer from shore. The weather is reasonable. Tomorrow we’ll come in and try again.”

  “How long will we keep tryin’ then?” Evvos asked, scratching his head.

  “Until we figure out how to get to that lost city, my friend. Failure is not an option.”

  “But what about the bodies of those poor men?”

  Gareth’s look was as hard and unforgiving as steel. “I lost four men today. They weren’t particularly good soldiers, but they, along with the rest of the marines, are all I have at the moment. I don’t plan on losing any more unless I have to.”