Abney Park's The Wrath Of Fate (11 page)

Even if you overlook the military advantage of holding the city of Arcot, you still have a city being held by an evil empire. I’m not passing judgment on England; to the best of my knowledge most countries have been “Evil Empires” at some time or another. This was their era. I lived in India as a small boy while my mother did anthropological fieldwork there, so when conversation in the map room turned to “what shall we do next” it occurred to me that if we overturned that one battle, we could overturn decades of the slavery of India.

As we appeared over the city in 1751, Clive’s fortifications of the city easily held out against the surrounding forces of Chanda Sahib.

From above, the city looked like the geometric pattern of a Persian carpet. A patchwork of walls and buildings with circular towers placed at each corner, British cannons bristled from the tower sides like points of stars. There were square courtyards, with little flower-shaped wells or fountains in the middle, and little patchwork-like buildings, crawling with people. Lines of regimented soldiers could be seen placed around crowds of the native city dwellers.

We were still very high up, and we could see tents to the southwest, and barracks, and the war beasts of Chanda’s forces. Not a small force, but it was ill-equipped to withstand the British cannons Clive had placed in the many towers around the city. Even if Chanda could get to the walls without the cannons pummeling his soldiers into the bloody sand, all he could do is stand at the gate of the city and knock.

The hot wind of summer dusk was blowing little spirals of dust below us as we slipped over the walls of the city toward the siege camps. Boys, tiny in the distance below us, ran along the city walls yelling up at us. Some met the butt of a rifle from Clive’s border guards.

We descended our rope ladders at gunpoint in the middle of a empty elephant paddock. Ironically, one of our Victorian sailors had learned to speak Hindi when he was stationed in the still occupied India one hundred years in the future. He had a tough time convincing turbaned soldiers that we shared a common enemy, and were here to help. It was obvious that we
could
help, our flying warship was holding Chanda’s soldiers in awe. Our skin color and accents were no different from the enemy’s (with a few exceptions among the crew) but I think in the end it was our clothes that convinced them we had nothing to do with the East India Company.

That night we met with Chanda and his generals. We told them we were sent from a country called “Imairika”, and that the English were our common foe. Hell, it might have been true at that time. We made plans that night, and preparations for two days, and during this time the camp was filled with hustling craftsmen.

As the morning sun of the third dawn stained the city a peach-gold color, Robert Clive’s soldiers saw a puzzling site. Over the city walls appeared the sails of a ship, surrounding a massive canvas balloon. As the hull of our ship appeared, the soldiers sounded alarms, and ran with rifles to the walls.

On the city towers, cannons fired their shots, but our height was greater than they were used to firing on and they narrowly missed our airship. Their shots fell back into the city amongst the troops now swarming the walls.
Ophelia’s
cannons erupted in an angry retort – dozens of shots causing the soldiers in the southern tower to leap into the moat, while the
Ophelia’s
cannon turned the northeast tower to dust.

Now
the Ophelia
was high above the southwest wall of the city, and under it hung a huge platform, nearly as big as
Ophelia’s
hull. Her bow dipped as the ship and platform slipped down toward the city’s main open square.

A company of one hundred British soldiers marched orderly into the square. They were regimented, and well groomed in their blue-gray uniforms – freshly laundered by the women of Arcot – and tall black boots – polished nightly by orphaned children of the city. They acted unimpressed by our flying ship, and raised their rifles toward the platform we carried, awaiting the Indian soldiers they expected to run out. But more than one eyebrow was raised at what they actually saw.

As the massive timbers of the platform kicked the courtyard’s dust in the air, up stood a half-dozen armored elephants. On their brass-plated backs were turbaned soldiers armed with pachyderm-mounted swivel cannons (borrowed from
Ophelia),
and even a couple full-sized cannons. The massive beasts thundered forward into the British soldiers, scattering their ranks as the swivel guns pounded and crumbled the perches of the snipers on the walls around them.

After the elephants left the platform, a dozen ropes dropped from the belly of
Ophelia,
and down slid our pirates and myself; pistols tucked in belts, swords strapped to our backs. At this point, our crew had had many months of fighting together, and this kind of attack was old hat to us.

As soon as the courtyard defenses were disburse, we turned the largest elephants toward the gates. These massive gates stood under a huge stone bridge, and faced the outside world with six inch thick iron plates. But from the inside, our target was simply one large wooden beam that horizontally braced the doors, two foot by three feet thick.

Three or four British soldiers were stationed behind the doors, and each dared no more then a single hurried shot toward the charging, armored elephants before fleeing to small, side passage ways.

To protect the elephants’ ears from the sound of the cannon, each had been packed that morning with clay and cloth. This kept the beasts from rearing up as the massive ten pounders shot through the wooden beam, splitters and smoke filled the air as they ran on. The ear-packs also kept the beasts from hearing their master’s commands to “Thehar Jaana!” and the gates smashed open as the stunned elephants tripped on the wooden splitters and rolled, crushing their riders and armor.

Clive’s soldiers stood on the dusty bricks in the doorway, rifles at their shoulders. As the first of the Indians rushed in the doors, British guns went off. Bullets found their mark in the massive shoulders of Chandra’s front guard but that hardly slowed their pace. Their objective was to push back the British guard enough to allow the rest of the army to enter the city.

I saw this from the center of the square, and gestured to the elephants’ riders to come in from behind them. The ground then erupted in front of me, and a group of five gray coated infantry men ran in firing at me.

I leaped toward a small arched tunnel in the wall, and ran into the dark wet interior. I didn’t look back, but in a few minutes I heard them enter the tunnel behind me. There were no turns, only doors that I could not risk the time to check and see if they were locked, but ahead of me I could see green-golden daylight.

Soon I burst into the light, and it was as if I’d entered a new world. The sound of gunfire was distant and muted. My feet slipped on hard packed red mud, and all around me was lush thick vegetation: vines, leaves the size of dinner plates, and tree trunks the size of small houses.

There were more rifles firing behind me,
these guys were determined!
They must have noticed I was giving orders, and figured I was worth the pursuit.

I stumbled forward. The mud clung to my boots as I ran, and with each step my feet got heavier with the weight of it. Eventually I found myself running on ancient carved stones. I was running out of breath. Cardio is hard to achieve on a flying boat with few large rooms! Ahead of me I saw some nearly faller arches and red stone domes of an old shrine.

I ran into the intricately carved building, and around a corner to catch my breath. Vines and branches were tearing the place apart slowly over hundreds of years. My eyes darted quickly around for a hiding place or a way out. I noticed in an alcove behind me that a large, silent and hooded head of a cobra was rising angrily out of a crushed pot he’d been sleeping in. At this point the first of the British soldiers plunged into the hall. The cobra struck at me, and having been staring right at him, I tried to jump back and tripped.

It’s a good thing I did; something about the angle my leg caught on the fallen bricks threw me to the ground much faster then I could have on my own. The cobra, missing me, leapt right on the soldier. The solider let out a scream (
was that the Wilhelm Scream??
) and the startled snake bit him. The soldier brushed the snake frantically from him and ran out of the tunnel with an “oooh! Ooh! OOH!” Poor guy, he’d surely die of that bite a lot slower than he would have with a bullet.

At this point I noticed a hole in the ceiling above the alcove, and I clamored up. Once on top of the temple I found myself in a knot of branches and leaves, and I crept through them across the rooftops back in the direction I thought the city must be.

An hour later, I found myself back inside the city walls, and discovered the battle pretty much over. Daniel had what remained of Robert Clive’s forces on their knees at gun point. Their rifles had been placed on a cart that was being wheeled out the front gate. Clive himself stood in his luxurious, but bloodied, uniform looking disgusted at us all.

“How DARE you! Some of you even look English! Explain yourselves before I have you in irons!” he said. I got to hand it to him, he had balls.

“I’ll explain, “ I said. “You think your power has given you immunity. You followed orders expertly enough to allow yourself to be god of this city. It all worked, as long as you didn’t think about the monstrous things you were ordered to do. Since the order came from above, you figured no one could hold you responsible.” I leaned in close. “Well, think again.”

The city of Arcot was returned to the people of India. With this new foothold, Chandra’s forces gained size and strength. As the rumor of our attack on Robert Clive’s forces spread across India, it seemed to have the effect of uniting the people of India in a way they hadn’t been before, and their pride strengthened them. Never again would another force take control of their country. Well, not for a couple hundred years, anyway.

Everybody was thrilled with the outcome. Everybody except Lilith, that is. She stomped about for days, grumbling to any of our crew that would listen to her about how she wasn’t “allowed” to do anything in the battle, grumbling how much better it would have gone had she played a larger part.

She grumbled to me about it once, to which I responded, “You determine your own level of involvement. If you have something to contribute, please do. It’s not my job to invent a way for you to be useful.” I suppose I might have said too much but dammit, I want to enjoy success, not listen to someone bitch that our success wasn’t attributed enough to them. She, of course, stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

We stayed in the city for a couple weeks, resting and repairing, and healing. One night, very late, and after a huge celebration with way too much drinking, Kristina came into our little apartment in the city looking tired, but angry. “Something’s going down wrong,” she said, pointing at the door “The crew seems mad as hell. They are saying some very bad things. You need to get out there! It sounds like mutiny!”

“What the hell!?!? What could anyone be mad about!?! All we’ve been doing is laying around accepting praise and food for weeks!” I was drunk, and half asleep, but I felt my face getting red with anger. Emotions come premature when you’ve been drinking.

I threw a shirt over my shoulders, and stumbled out of the apartment while still pulling on my boots. My face was warm with drink, and my mind was foggy.

I found a group of most of the higher ranking crew sitting around a couple tables in the main square. Everyone but Doctor Calgori, who would have gone to bed hours ago. It was pitch black, around 3 a.m., and by the multi-colored lantern light, I could see the tables were strewn with empty bottles. I pulled up a chair at the end of one table. Tanner sat at it, with Daniel, Mongrel, Jean-Paul, and Lilith. All but Lilith had dark looks on their faces. She wore a look of calm, defiant victory.

“So, what are we talking about?” I asked. I meant to say it calm and collectedly, but thanks to the rum I’m fairly sure I blurted it out angrily and defensively.

“Don’t play stupid, Capt’n!” Mongrel growled. “We’re on to ya.” Everyone scowled with red eyes. Lilith spun a finger in her drink carelessly, and licked it.

“Seriously, Daniel, what’s going on?” I asked. Daniel was the professional here, I could ask him.

“Here is the thing,” Daniel began in his official ‘calm things down’ voice. “The crew knows what you’re planning. And they don’t like it. We need you to know one thing: if you go through with it, the next time we are in battle together, we are not going to fight with you.”

“WHAT!?!” I was baffled. “Then we’ll all die! My god, what do you think I’m planning?”

“You are planning to get rid of Lilith.” Tanner said, face red with anger, fists clenched.

“What? Why would I do that?” I asked. Now Lilith was making eye contact. She was daring me to deny it. I took a breath, and started slowly. “Honestly, no, I wasn’t going to ‘get rid of anyone’. Why would I want to? Every thing is going perfectly. We’ve had success at everything we’ve done!”