by Perrin Briar
He spent some time going over the plans, nodding and shaking his head at some details, gasping at others. He was somewhat of an eccentric, verging on genius, and Admiral gave him a great deal of autonomy. Admiral waited while the engineer made his appraisal.
Finally, he set the plans aside and leaned back in his chair with a deep frown. He pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth, pinching his lips.
“Well?” Admiral said. “Is it possible?”
“Yes,” Chief Engineer said. “It’s possible to build. But I can’t promise its effectiveness. The pressure may be too much for the materials to withstand for long.”
“What if I told you there are methods to strengthen the materials we currently have?” Admiral said.
“Then I would say you would not only change the way we build ships, but everything in our world,” Chief Engineer said. “It would kick off an industrial revolution the likes of which we have never seen. Though to be fully effective, we would need to remove all obstacles.”
He said it with meaning. The pirates. They stood in the way of British innovation. Yet another reason to be rid of the sea rats.
The cowled man appeared again that night, stepping from the shadows as if he was made from them.
“Have you come to your decision?” he said in his somber tones.
“Yes,” Admiral said. “We can work together. I will build the contraptions in exchange for the technology you offered.”
“Good,” the cowled man said. “There are two things to note before we proceed. First, our deal is for the contraption, not the weapon it carries. Is that understood?”
“Weapon?” Admiral said. “There’s no weapon on the blueprints.”
“You will have to design your own,” the cowled man said.
Admiral pressed his lips together. If the cowled man had access to plans of ships like the one he’d given him, what kind of weapons did he have access to? The mind boggled.
“Perhaps we can do another deal for the weapon,” Admiral said.
“You have nothing more we require,” the cowled man said.
Admiral didn’t much like being spoken to in that tone of voice, but if he could get his hands on just one of these devices, it could solve all his problems. He was willing to put up with a little rudeness.
“Fine,” Admiral said. “What is your second note?”
“We expect completion six months from today,” the cowled man. “No excuses.”
Admiral nodded. The cowled man produced another document from the folds of his shroud. It was twice as thick as the blueprints file. Admiral couldn’t make head nor tail of its contents, but Chief Engineer assured him it was everything they wanted and more.
Admiral proceeded to divert all necessary resources to the secret project, blaming the pirates for any losses. Finally the pirates had proven useful to the kingdom. The perfect scapegoat. The king didn’t argue, knowing it to be his fault they were still in existence in the first place.
They were now two days shy of the promised day of completion. The cowled figure hadn’t turned up again to check progress. Admiral hoped he’d forgotten their agreement, but he knew this to be a pipedream. He knew the cowled figure would be back the day he said he would. Unless he missed his guess, the figure would arrive to the very minute of their agreement.
After the memorial ceremony, Admiral departed the city, heading to a tract of forest he’d purchased out of his own pocket. His carriage headed deep into the forest, passing the various security checkpoints he’d had set up.
In the heart of the woodland he climbed from his carriage and out onto a wide clearing. He stood outside what was the largest room in the world. He’d had sections built separately all over the kingdom, and then brought here and assembled by third parties.
He’d had the assemblers killed—quickly—there was no need to prolong their agony. In exchange, the families of the men had been set up in free houses with a lifetime of food. It was a sacrifice Admiral was willing to make.
Admiral was met by Chief Engineer. The prince had allowed him to handpick his assistants. They would all unwittingly receive the same deal the assemblers of the warehouse had, and be put to the sword the moment they had completed their task.
It was regrettable to waste such talented men, but Admiral would not lose the best minds for this task due to something as insignificant as a few deaths. The men should have felt honored to serve their king and country with pride and dignity.
Building of the contraptions had not been without obstacle. It took some time for the blacksmiths to perfect the metal folding process, to create the plastic and rubber molds. Everything proved more difficult than initially expected. Groundbreaking engineering was no easy feat, even when armed with God’s step-by-step foolproof handbook.
The first few attempts had resulted in unacceptable quality levels that did not meet Chief Engineer’s spec. But with practice and overcoming their own limitations, they eventually overcame these issues.
“We are progressing well,” Chief Engineer said. “We should complete the project on the agreed date.”
“Should?” Admiral said, allowing a trace of annoyance to enter his voice.
“We will,” Chief Engineer said, correcting himself. “The first unit, your own personal unit, has already been transferred to the stern of The Revenge.”
The Revenge was the pride and glory of the British fleet. She was both as swift as the wind and as fierce as a howling typhoon. She had been altered to cater for Admiral’s new contraption.
“There’s one slight hiccough,” Chief Engineer said. “We have enough material to produce twenty-six ships, no more.”
“Twenty-six?” Admiral said.
“The process is very intensive and requires a great deal of time and energy,” the chief engineer said.
“What if I got you more materials?” Admiral said.
“Then it will take longer than six months to produce,” Chief Engineer said.
The cowled figure wanted twenty-five ships. That left Admiral with just one for his own personal use. He’d been hoping he’d have his own fleet. Was one enough?
It’ll have to be, Admiral thought.
“Fine,” Admiral said. “Produce twenty-six. We’ll make more if they prove effective.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be effective,” Chief Engineer said. “I don’t believe there’s anyone in the world who could stand against them.”
“Excellent,” Admiral said. “And everything is kept hush-hush, I trust?”
“Of course, sir,” Chief Engineer said. “Nothing has been leaked. No one knows about these machines save you and I. The most each individual worker knows is each segment they’re working on. I must say, we’re all looking forward to going home and seeing our friends and family. Six months is an unfathomably long period of time to be away from those you love.”
Not when you’ve never been close to them, Admiral thought.
Chief Engineer would never see his family again, of course. None of them would. They were all serving a higher purpose now. But Chief Engineer would at least be preserved from the slaughter. Admiral required him to fix the ship should it malfunction.
It was all a sacrifice Admiral was quite willing to make.
27
AARON STOOD on the prow of the ship, watching the horizon in the direction of New London, just as he had done when he watched his family pull away in the ship’s boat. It was the first time he’d been left to fend for himself for as long as he could remember. It did not fill him with the feeling of being an adult as he’d imagined it would.
Smithy leaned on the railing beside him.
“Your family ain’t never coming back,” Smithy said. “You’re going to stay here just like the rest of us. Adrift and lost and without hope.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Aaron said. “Your family left you?”
“Nobody leaves Smithy,” Smithy said. “Family are dead weight. They’re balls and chains, locking you d
own, holding you back. Believe me, you’ll be better off here, without them. The sooner you grow into a man, the better you’ll be in the long run.”
The fun and joviality Aaron enjoyed aboard the Celeste when he’d first arrived was no longer to be found, like a fun weekend turning sour come Monday. He kept looking over his shoulder expecting his family to be there, only they weren’t.
He missed them all terribly, more than he could say with mere words. His tone and attitude was picked up by the crew, who were always quick to offer to play a few hands of Dead Man. Despite their raucous cheering and bleating, Aaron couldn’t shake his melancholy.
He ate his meals by himself, not wanting to socialize and make chitchat. He became withdrawn and solitary. If it wasn’t for Jim’s constant intervention, Aaron would have slipped into a state of depression.
“Aaron,” Jim said. “Come with me. We need to fetch some supplies for Chef.”
He led Aaron to the stairs, and then deep down into the belly of the ship. Aaron kept his eyes on the floor when they passed the room where he and his family had slept till they had left. He’d need to find somewhere else to sleep.
“You miss them, don’t you?” Jim said.
Aaron nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak, risking tears if he did.
“The others were the same when they first came here,” Aaron said. “Don’t let their blunt outward appearance fool you. They were every bit as upset and sad at leaving their families behind as you are now.”
“They all left their families behind?” Aaron said.
“Most,” Jim said. “The promise of permanent employment was too much of a pull. They all begin sending money home, but that always stops when they think about how much more rum they could drink if they kept the funds for themselves.
“Half came against their will. Stoneheart plied them with rum and then brought their unconscious bodies far out to sea. That way they have no choice but to crew the ship till they make port.”
“You were never sad?” Aaron said. “About leaving your family behind?”
“You have to have a family to be able to miss them,” Jim said.
“You must have a family,” Aaron said.
“Aye,” Jim said. “I probably have a family member or two out in the world, but I never met them, and likely never will. I wouldn’t know I had if I did. The crew is my family.”
“Lots of uncles,” Aaron said with a warm smile.
“Uncles prepare you for life, isn’t that what they say?” Jim said.
“Then you’re prepared for just about anything,” Aaron said. “You don’t remember anything from when you were young?”
“I remember a kind faced old lady,” Jim said. “She had rosy red cheeks that were smooth and used to smiling. And I remember green, grass or a garden or something.”
Aaron rounded a landing, dodging out of the way when a man came up the steps coming in the opposite direction.
“Excuse me,” the old man said.
He didn’t stop, and continued up the stairs.
“Wait,” Aaron said. “Was that…?”
“The one and only,” Jim said.
“I thought Stoneheart killed him?” Aaron said. “The old captain of the fishing trawler. What was his name? Lawson? Larson?”
“Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?” Jim said.
“I saw Stoneheart aim a pistol at the old man’s head and pull the trigger,” Aaron said.
“Then what did you witness?” Jim said.
“His body hit the deck and he didn’t move,” Aaron said.
“Did you see any blood?” Jim said. “There would have been a lot with a shot to the head like that.”
“Yes,” Aaron said.
“Are you sure?” Jim said.
He smiled, a glint in his mischievous eye. Aaron thought back to the scene. He’d seen the old man’s body hit the deck. He was sure he’d seen blood. But how could Larson be here now if he had?
“Larson is old, but he’s also brave,” Jim said. “It’s something Stoneheart looks for in his men. Loyalty follows quickly on the heels of bravery, he thinks. It takes bravery to be loyal, not vice versa.”
Aaron nodded.
“Doesn’t sound much like a bloodthirsty pirate,” he said.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Jim said. “A reputation can be destroyed a lot easier than it can be made.”
“You’re saying he doesn’t deserve the reputation he has?” Aaron said.
“I didn’t say that,” Jim said. “The crew are afraid of him. They believe it. I suppose in the end, that’s all that really matters.”
They came to the pantry. Jim took out a set of keys from his waist, sorted through them, found the right one, and inserted it into the lock.
“How did you come to be here?” Aaron said.
“The same as the others, I suppose,” Jim said. “Brought here against my own free will. But then, I suppose a baby doesn’t have much free will to begin with, does it?”
Glass jars of condiments and pickled vegetables, salted meat on the bone, and tins of every shape, color and size filled the shelves.
Jim began taking items off the shelves, needing to use a stepladder to reach those on the higher shelves.
“Grab the cheese, will you?” Jim said.
Aaron did.
“Urgh!” he said, before dropping it on the floor.
“What’s the matter?” Jim said.
“It’s green,” Aaron said.
“So?” Jim said. “That’s how cheese is supposed to be.”
“No it’s not,” Aaron said.
“No?” Jim said, frowning and exposing his bottom lip. “That’s the only type of cheese I’ve ever had.”
“It’s gone off,” Aaron said.
Jim shrugged.
“It hasn’t killed anyone yet,” he said. “Add it to the pile.”
Aaron picked the wedge of cheese up by the only patch of yellow he could identify, and placed it on the table.
“That’s about it, I think,” Jim said.
He paused and reached behind a row of pickled vegetables, using feel alone to find what he was looking for, and came out with a long flat object.
“Here,” Jim said. “Don’t tell anyone I gave you that.”
He opened the wrapper and snapped off two small squares of chocolate. He handed one to Aaron and popped the other in his own mouth.
Aaron let the heat of his salivating mouth melt the chocolate and run over his tongue. It was dark chocolate, his least favorite. It lacked the sweet sugar of what he was used to, but boy, did it taste good.
It was a small taste of the surface, his past, where he belonged. He shut his eyes and let himself get transported there. He didn’t need a Passage to go there. He could remember what it was like. Everything he’d ever seen, smelled and taken for granted flooded his senses.
“What are you thinking about?” Jim said.
“Hm?” Aaron said, opening his eyes.
“You were smiling,” Jim said.
“Was I?” Aaron said. “I was just thinking about home.”
“Must be nice, having a home,” Jim said
“You have a home,” Aaron said. “This ship is your home.”
“It’s a place I work and sleep,” Jim said. “I’m not sure I would call that a home. A home is meant to be a place, your own space, where you feel like you belong.”
Jim shrugged.
“That’s what the others said, anyway,” he said.
“There are many different kinds of families,” Aaron said. “You can have a family with a dozen fathers.”
“But no mother,” Jim said. “I saw the way Zoe looked at you, the way all mothers should look at their children, I think. I want that. And you’ve got a family out there now, trying to find where the treasure is so they can be with you again.”
“Do you think they’ll find it?” Aaron said.
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “No one has managed to find
it before.”
“Maybe there’s no such thing to find anyway,” Aaron said. “Maybe they’re doomed to failure. What’ll happen to me if they don’t find the treasure?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said. “I wish I did.”
“Will the captain hurt me?” Aaron said.
Jim was silent for a long time.
“We should be getting back to the kitchens,” he said.
They scooped the items up in their arms. Jim shut the door and locked it. His noncommitted response didn’t fill Aaron with confidence.
28
“NO MATTER how many times you tell me there are guards watching over me, I can’t bring myself to believe it,” Cartographer said. “Why didn’t they tell me they were taking care of me?”
“Because they would hardly be a secret force then, would they?” Cassie said.
“I suppose not,” Cartographer said. “So, where are you really from?”
“The surface,” Zoe said.
“The surface of what?” Cartographer said.
“Of the world,” Zoe said.
It took a moment for the penny to drop, and when it did, it resulted in the rising of the cartographer’s wispy white eyebrows and the wrinkles to pile up on his tall forehead.
“The surface?” Cartographer said.
“Yes,” Zoe said.
“But they were just myths,” Cartographer said. “Old stories from a time long ago.”
“Well, they’re true,” Zoe said.
“Is it true what they say?” Cartographer said. “You sit on fluffy white clouds and play harps?”
“Okay, the stories aren’t entirely true,” Zoe said. “The surface is a lot like it is here. People going about their lives, some doing good things, some bad. Just getting by.”
“I’ve always wondered what it must be like up there, if there even was a surface at all,” Cartographer said. “What it must look like, what the maps were like.”
“I can show you, if you want,” Zoe said.
“I would love that,” Cartographer said.