He saw Harriet nearly decapitate a man who was rushing at her with a pike, and she fired her pistol at a Spanish sailor who was standing over one of her men. David fired his pistol at a small, shirtless man who was rushing at him with a knife and watched him crumple to the ground, a look of complete and utter surprise on his face. Blood poured from his chest, and the man feebly clutched at his stomach, as if trying to keep the blood from spilling out.
David felt sick. He stood there as around him, the sailors hacked and fired at each other, pushing the Spanish back. The din was deafening. The Americans were fighting for their lives, for they knew that the odds were against them. It was a hard fight, and at the head of it was Harriet. Her sword flashed, her pistol fired, and it was these things that gave the men the heart they needed to fight on.
They pressed the Spanish back towards the quarterdeck of the ship. David pushed forward with the rest of the hands. He had picked up a sword from a dead Spanish sailor, dropping his pistol. The sword was easier to use given the closeness of the combat.
As they approached the quarterdeck, they saw a man in an officer's uniform jump down from the quarterdeck in front of the oncoming Americans. He was a Spanish lieutenant. He held out his sword, hilt first towards Harriet.
The Spanish were surrendering.
At least that's what David thought. As he watched, his vision went black.
A cheer from the Americans. They could hardly believe it. A frigate had taken a ship-of-the-line twice its size.
"Ma'am, we have seventy-eight prisoners," said Lara. "The rest were killed." They were back aboard the Calista. Harriet was trying to take stock of the situation from the quarterdeck. Both she and Lara had been uninjured in the fight, and despite a general feeling of exhaustion, they both still felt the excitement of the recent battle.
"Officers?"
"The captain was killed in by the broadside. We've captured the first and second lieutenant and some of the petty officers."
"Excellent."
"One more thing..." Lara hesitated, "there was a civilian with them. I think he's a political officer."
That was interesting. The Spanish frequently had political officers aboard their ships. They were usually individuals loyal to the Emperor whose primary purpose was to ensure loyalty amongst the officers. Their presence was an ever constant reminder of the Emperor's power.
"He might have information about this whole damn mess," said Harriet. "The Sangria knew we'd be out here. I want to know why. Take him to my quarters. I want to question him immediately."
"Yes, Ma'am."
When Harriet saw the man sitting in her quarters, she was shocked. It was the kidnapper from the hotel room. The man who had almost shot her. He didn't look at all nervous about his capture.
To buy time to regain her composure, she picked up the speaking horn to talk to the sick bay. She wanted the butcher's bill.
"We have ten dead and about 20 injured," said Marcus.
It was a shockingly low number of casualties considering the amount of metal exchanged. "The other side?" she asked.
"Scores dead. About the same wounded. They got it much worse. The Spanish surgeon is helping me here."
"How's David?"
"He should be fine. He's unconscious from a pretty bad knock on the head, but he'll pull through."
"Keep this line open," said Harriet. "I need to talk to him the moment he wakes." She needed an assessment of the engine room's damage. She put the horn down on the desk, and went to the door to call for Suarez. Once the lieutenant had arrived, Harriet took a chair opposite the man.
"Cigarillo?," he asked.
Harriet shook her head. "Do you speak English? If not, Suarez here speaks Spanish."
"English is fine. I'm glad to see you're well, Captain." He remembered her.
"No thanks to you."
He shrugged, "It was nothing personal. This is a war. But of course, the rules of the battlefield are not like those of espionage, I'm afraid. Sometimes we're forced to do things in the shadows that we don't like. But it's all for the sake of our respective countries."
"And what makes you think I won't do those same things to you," she said.
He lit a cigarette. "It must be tempting after we kidnapped you, but I'm afraid it wouldn't do. I'm on the Sangria's registry as a civilian. The rules of war do not apply to me, and you know as well as I do, amiga, that the interrogation of a civilian is illegal. You would be court-martialed."
She was angry, but she knew he was right. "What's your name? Even civilians have to answer that."
He looked at her levelly, "Any name I gave you would not really be mine, so don't make me insult you, captain. It doesn't really matter."
He blew smoke rings at the ceiling. He was relaxed, and he had every right to be. There was nothing she could do within the rules of war to find out how they had been spotted. She didn't want to risk mentioning Waterhouse's name for fear of giving away her mission. She might have risked it if there was some chance of him being more forthcoming, but she knew that he wasn't going to say anything useful.
"Ma'am," said Suarez, "I think I might have better luck."
Harriet gave her an odd look. "Really?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Just give me a few minutes."
Harriet shrugged, "Just make sure no laws are broken."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Lara watched Harriet as she closed the door. She spoke to Rodriguez in Spanish.
"You're very resourceful to have made it out here," she said
"Thank you," he said levelly. "I see you succeeded in slowing down that ship of yours."
"I did. I see you were unsuccessful in your attempt at blowing her out of the water."
"That was indeed the goal, but war is as unpredictable as it is tragic. I never would have thought your captain would be so resourceful. Or that my captain would be such a fool."
"That's the way of war."
"So true."
"I should get some credit for making sure that Waterhouse made it to New Madrid," she said
"Well, some credit, maybe. He never quite made it there." He laughed.
"No?" Lara was surprised. "Where is he?"
"Somewhere safe." He shrugged. "We had to make sure that there was no chance that this ship would intercept him. Did you succeed in the other part of your mission?"
"It'll happen."
He nodded. "Just make sure that it does." He looked around. "Can you get me out of this mess?"
There was a moment's silence. Lara drew her pistol.
"Who is La Mujer?"
Rodriguez was taken aback. "What are you doing?"
"You heard me."
"Why should I tell you?"
"Aside from the fact that I'll kill you if you don't?"
"Yes, aside from that."
"Once we get back to New Boston, you will be interrogated by the Americans. They know who you are and they don't really care about the niceties of war. They will find out everything you know. Trust me on this. They will. When they do, they can get to me."
"So you plan on killing me?"
She nodded. "You have to admit, it's the right play."
"Why must you know about La Mujer?"
"Insurance," she said. "If your people begin to think I'm expendable, I've got something in hand."
"You haven't answered my question. I understand why you want to know who La Mujer is....but why would I bother telling you? If you kill me, you won't have the name you need." He was no longer outwardly calm. Desperation was creeping into his voice. "If you can think of some way to help me escape, maybe I can get you the information you need."
"You'll do it for one reason. Because you love your daughter. She's a twenty-six year old school teacher in Barcelona. She just graduated from University. She's engaged to be married next spring, and her favorite things to do are wine tasting, riding her bicycle, and swimming."
He paled. "She has nothing to do with this. It would be dishonorable."
"It would
be, but I'm a pragmatist at heart."
"There's no need for this," he pleaded. "Only one other person knows about you, and that's Waterhouse. My government will not come after you because they do not know who you are. There's no reason to know about La Mujer."
She was confused, "Why would Waterhouse know about me?"
He was silent. She cocked her pistol.
He hesitated. "We turned him a year ago. I communicated to him that you were the one person aboard the Dakota to be trusted."
"You're lying."
"Why would I lie?" He held out both hands in supplication.
She considered. Waterhouse would have to go. "I want La Mujer and I also want to know Waterhouse's location. I don't like loose ends. I promise you, no harm will come to your daughter if you do this."
He told her.
When Harriet and the marines heard the gunshot, they rushed in. Rodriguez was in a heap. Blood covered the wall and floor.
Lara was holding her pistol. She was shaking. "He came at me," she stammered. "I...I didn't have a choice."
The marines took the body, lifted it, and took him to the main deck to put with the rest of the dead. They were slated for burials in space.
Harriet placed a hand on Lara's shoulder. "What set him off?"
"I don't know. I just asked him about Waterhouse, and he just lost it. He came at me like a bull."
"Did you get anything useful from him?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she said slowly. "I did."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Waterhouse must be at Daria station."
"Are you certain?" asked Harriet.
"No," said Lara, "but it makes sense. We talked a bit about Waterhouse. He didn't deny that the Spanish had him, but he let slip that he wasn't on New Madrid. I asked him where he was and that's when he came at me."
David shifted in his seat. "How did you get him to talk?" He had recovered from the hit, but he had a pounding headache.
"He loosened up around me. Maybe it was because we were speaking Spanish."
David looked doubtful.
"Why Daria station?" asked David.
"It's a small moon orbiting one of the gas giants in the New Madrid star system. It's pretty much a rock, but the Spanish have a naval base there. They use it mainly for outfitting ships. It's the only other nearby habitable space they could have taken him," said Lara.
"But we don't know for sure," said Harriet.
"No, we don't," said Lara, "but it makes sense. It's isolated and not easily accessible, and it'd be the perfect spot to work on something top secret like the engine. There are no chances of leaks and no ways of escaping."
There was silence.
"Then what do we do?" said David grimly.
"I say we get him," said Lara.
Harriet shook her head. "We were ordered to return directly to New Madrid if we failed in taking the transport."
"But surely the gist of the orders was to rescue Waterhouse," said David.
"Maybe, but it's not just that," said Harriet. "It'd be risky. It makes far more sense to go back and report what we've found. The Naval office can decide whether it's worth sending in an armada to get him out of there."
"That could take weeks, months even," said David. "They might move him. We have the information now, and if we don't act on it, we could lose him."
"What do you suggest?" said Harriet, growing exasperated, "It's a naval base for Christ's sake. They probably have several battleships, not to mention heavily armed batteries just itching to blow us out of the sky. Even if we had a ship in perfect fighting condition, which we don't after our run in with the Sangria, it would be a suicide mission."
Harriet's tone softened at David's expression, "I know he's your friend, but I can't risk the lives of everyone on board for one man. Especially when there's virtually zero chance of success."
"I think there's a way that we can do it without risking the ship," said Lara.
Harriet was surprised. "I'm all ears."
"If David can rig a small vessel," she glanced at him, "like the lifeboat that saved us on the Dakota, I could pilot it down to the moon undetected."
She walked to the atlas and flipped through the pages until she found a map of Daria. It had the moon's landscape, but it was missing detailed information about the naval port.
"Once down there, I think I could locate him. It might take a few days, but I can easily pass for a Spanish citizen. Once there, I'll get him out."
"Just you?" asked David.
"Just me." She said.
"How?" said Harriet.
"I may have to improvise." She hesitated, but only for a second. "I worked on a few missions with Naval intelligence where we did extractions like this. This is definitely something I can do." She hated revealing anything about her links to intelligence, but in this case, it was the only way she'd be able to convince them to let her go.
They were all silent.
"Are you still working with Naval intelligence?" said Harriet quietly. Suddenly, the order to listen to Suarez's advice made a lot of sense. They'd basically put a spy on her ship without telling her.
"If I was, I couldn't tell you," Lara shrugged, "Does it matter?"
"You're damned right it matters!" said Harriet.
Lara looked at her. Then she nodded, "I am."
There was silence in the room.
"We're on the same team here, Ma'am," said Suarez. "I just want to get Waterhouse back, same as you."
Harriet's expression softened a little. There was no point in blaming Lara, "Can you really get him out?"
"I can try, and there's no risk to the crew or the ship."
Harriet nodded.
"I think everyone's forgetting about the Engine," said David. "We'll need to either get it out of there or destroy it."
"I'll destroy it," said Lara.
"It's huge. How are you going to pull that off undetected?"
"Maybe Waterhouse can help."
"What if he's dead or hurt? I know exactly which mechanisms to destroy so that they won't be able to figure out how it works."
"No way," said Lara. "You'd slow me down. There's no way you're coming with me."
David was a bit surprised himself by his volunteering, but this was something only he could do, and he wanted to do his part. Besides, he wanted to get Waterhouse and he felt like it was more likely to happen if he played a role in it.
"I think it's a good idea," said Harriet. "He's right. He knows how that machine operates, and he'd be most effective at destroying it." In reality, she didn't quite believe this, but after Lara's revelation, she didn't really trust her, and felt better about the idea of someone else accompanying Lara.
"If we're captured, we'll lose possibly the only other person who could build an engine," said Lara.
"Don't get captured." Harriet's tone made it clear that the conversation was over.
David lay on a filthy pile of hay in a filthy one-room shack behind a filthy restaurant.
It was paradise.
He was so tired, he could barely turn his body over. He had been lifting cargo containers into the one ship that was in port at Daria with the rest of the work crew and it was back breaking work. In fact, he had never worked so hard physically in all his life.
They had arrived in Daria about a week before. Rigging the small vessel, which the crew liked to call the jolly boat, had been very simple. The jolly boat was an old cargo container, just like their previous vessel. The benefit of this was that the boat looked like garbage floating in space, and would not look out of place on a naval base.
The first time he had rigged an engine when they were escaping from the Dakota, it had been under the stress of combat, and that had made the whole thing fairly nerve wracking. Under more controlled conditions, he was easily able to take the spare containment chamber that he had used to rig the Calista's new engine, and modify it so that it worked in the jolly boat. He was also able to rig up a small protein drip, so they knew exactly how long th
e artificial atmosphere would last. They had about a week and a half of the protein drip, which would give them days to spare for a trip to Daria and back.
The trip had taken two days. Sitting in a small, confined space with another person, even someone who he'd been intimate with, was tough. The only saving grace was that they had done it before for much longer and with the near certainty that they were going to die. That made this round easier.
The most dangerous part of the mission was landing. Most of the lookouts on Daria would be looking for large battle-ships, not cargo containers that were slipping onto the moon's thin atmosphere and then slowly settling down for a landing. The base was cast in perpetual night, as it was too far from the star system's sun to receive much illumination. David had hoped that their container would, at most, look like a shooting star, and that the darkness would hide their descent.
The other danger was finding a place to land. The naval base consisted of the port itself and a small town of about ten thousand that supported life on base. The trick was to land far enough away that they would not be detected, but not so far that they would be unprotected by the atmospheric fields that supported life on base. If they landed too far away, they would be protected by the jolly boat's field, but would perish if they ventured too far away from it.
When they had landed, they were about half a klick away from the borders of the town. They walked towards the settlement with nothing but the clothes on their back. The plan was to pose as day laborers who had scraped together their last pennies to pay for transport from New Madrid to Daria. Their tale was a common one. They had come for the high wages and steady work that life on the base offered and were sending money back to their families planet-side. They had borrowed threadbare clothing from the hands aboard the Calista to fit the role.
Lara's New Madrid accented Spanish cemented the story. David was her idiot brother: a man who was both deaf and dumb, but had a strong back and was willing to work hard. His Indian parentage made him passable among the Latinos on base, some of whom had come from Latin America back on Earth as day laborers.
The Gold Engine (The Gold Chronicles) Page 15
