Abney Park's The Wrath Of Fate (13 page)

“All I’ve been doing is trying to get your attention! So you’d
notice
me,” she said with forced evenness, but her voice started to crack a little.

I stared blankly at her for a second. Honestly, the pause was me asking myself,
Is this her best performance yet, or is this real?

“Well, you’ve sure as hell got my attention now!” I said “You’ve had most of my attention since Arcot! I mean, what the hell do you want from me?” I asked, but that was a mistake! She stepped in close again, slipping her arms under my open great coat and around my waist, and I saw her eyes close and her face came close again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said, “Now hold on!” I held her back.

That’s when the eggshell broke.

Her face went red, her eyes squinted, and in a constrained voice she said, “Fine.” In that “
fine
” was a threat, and I already knew she could deliver. She stomped below deck. How someone so small can cast such a cloud of poison and anger around her, I’ll never know.

Later that night I wrote the beginnings of some lyrics in my journal;

The Ballad of Captain Robert

Captain Robert took his men

And flew to Prague and back again

Some fell off, some dropped dead

And some put bullets through their head

A skeleton crew is what came back

Who lived through mutiny, plague and flak

Strong and calloused, brave and tired

All those who could stay inspired

Captain Robert took his ship

To Beijing and to Mozambique

Stir crazy or in irons he clapped them

One of them tried to kiss the captain

A skeleton crew is what came back

Who lived through mutiny, plague and flak

Strong and calloused, brave and tired

All those who could stay inspired

I didn’t see her again for a week. We tied off just above a forest a couple miles out side a foggy little fishing town, a couple hours north of London, and as the crew made quiet repairs I didn’t spot her once.

Occasionally, I was given confused hints from the crew that “Lilith stormed in asking about empty crates. I told her to talk to you, capt’n.” Or, “When’s Lilith going to return my wrenches? The girl’s had’em for a week.” In retrospect, I should have looked into these things, but I was so relieved to have her out of my hair, I did nothing.

A STOLEN MONSTER

We were rested, and prepared for our next mission. I stood at the wheel, once again with Daniel over my shoulder. We had spent the week laying plans for our biggest task yet, to take down the biggest villain I had ever heard of.

The ship was even more “bolted down” than before. With each jump through time, it seemed more things broke loose, so we kept tying more and more down in the hopes to not emerge in a dangling mess. The problem was some of the damage was becoming structural, and all the ropes in the world weren’t going to hold together the cracked beams running though the center of the hull. However, we’d gotten so mindlessly confident with our ability to make do, we risked it again and again.

“Hit the switch!” I yelled into the horn. In a moment, I felt the sinking feeling, and the whole room started an a-rhythmical rumbling. That was new. My ears popped, this time incredibly painfully! Without thinking, I let go of the wheels to grab at my ears, and the ship lunged like we’d hit the side of a mountain!

I flew off my feet and slid across the floor, smashing into the stained-glass window and shattering several panels that embedded themselves in my face and hands.

The entire room, in fact the entire gondola, then began to swing back the other direction. Daniel grabbed the wheel in my absense. I could see blood dripping from his ears down the side of his cheeks, he had the amazingly useful skill of being able to ignore pain until after a battle was over.

As the gondola reached the far side of its swing, I could hear ropes outside
twang,
and
snap,
and the cabin dropped a foot or more, sending books and maps fluttering through the air. It seemed some vital support lanyards had broken free, and now the whole ship was a foot or two off kilter.

Soon things settled down, and I stood up. Daniel flashed me a raised eyebrow to say, “Not good!” He tied off the wheel and we staggered out on deck, hands to our ears, to get our position.

It was cold. Cold as death, and the cuts on my face and hands burned. The deck of the
Ophelia
hung slightly angled, and as the other sailors emerged they walked cautiously and commented to each other in the soft worried tones you whisper at someone’s deathbed.

I pointed my glass downward and scanned across pine trees, little rivers, a quaint European house with steep roof, a handmade fence with a horse tied to it. Past the house were green fields, and roads, sheep, a brand new “vintage” automobile, a grain silo, and…

Daniel tapped my shoulder, and I heard terrifying sound; Propellers. I raised and focused my glass and I saw fighter planes! My heart dropped.

Thirty or more World War II fighter planes were flying parallel to us a couple miles to port, each sporting the insignia of the Luftwaffe. They appeared to be escorting two massive zeppelins.

We’d made a mistake. Actually, I had made a mistake, a big one. I had taken on our greatest goal: to stop Hitler and his genocide during World War II. We’d been fairly successful up until now, and I had gotten cocky. When we planned this mission, I didn’t account for the fact that this war took place fifty years
after
the
H.M.S. Ophelia
had been built. It all seemed like ancient history, from my perspective.

But we’d been winning because we always had superior technology. Now we were essentially in the future compared to when the ship was built. We were antiquated. I overlooked the fact that the German army at this point was massive, incredibly strong, and unbelievably high tech by Victorian standards. Most importantly, I overlooked the fact that they had an actual air force.

“What in god’s name is that!!!” yelled one of the crew, as the cloud of fighter planes altered course and headed towards us.

“That’s trouble” I muttered back.
That’s the end of us all!
Is what I wanted to say, but luckily I didn’t say it out loud. I did however start yelling orders, “Turn the ship to port, head into those fighter planes…aircraft…airplanes… head
toward
them! Drop the sails! Propellers on full!” We couldn’t outrun them, but if we headed into them they would have less time to shoot at us before they passed us. Running would only give them a more vulnerable target.

The
Ophelia
started a steep turn, but there was another snap of cables. The deck dropped down another two feet askew, and the sudden pitch bounced two crewman overboard and knocked several others to the deck. This ship was already falling apart, and the fighters hadn’t even gotten to us yet.

“Get the cannon ready!” I yelled. “Tie down those posts, and bring in the mainsails!” This was not going to be easy, if it worked at all. Crewmen were running, and climbing ropes and yelling, and tossing ropes.

In the commotion, I grabbed at Tanner’s coat, and yelled over the now roaring wind, “Get to the map room. Tell the doctor to start his calculations. We need to get the hell out of here!”

“Those calculations typically take him a full day, and the doctor has been feeling very poorly. We need to make do without him,” Tanner declared. He also glanced over my shoulder, and I saw him make eye contact with Lilith, who then went below deck.

I refused to let my mind spend a second on that, and yelled, “He’ll die with the rest of us if he doesn’t pull this off! Go!” I yelled, and Tanner bolted below deck.

The Luftwaffe’s first pass was not a scouting run. This was the very heart of the war (
brilliant
timing, on my part) and we were in German airspace.

There were no warning shots. There was no signal for us to turn around. The first greeting we got was an unmerciful pelting from least six guns. The wood of the front railings burst like popcorn, spraying the crew with wood chips before filling them with lead. Many men were cut in half before the rest dove to the decks.

A dozen friends died before we had a chance to shoot back.

As the planes whipped past, our cannons erupted a response! The sides of the Ophelia were wreathed in smoke and flames, but not a single shot hit its mark. Shooting planes with swivel-mounted ships cannon was futile.

Ophelia
was starting to veer off course now, so as soon as the last of the planes had passed, I ran forward to the wheel. The acting pilot was among the first to be killed as the planes passed, so I grabbed what was left of the wheel. There was a stinging in my cheeks, and I reached up and felt the blood and glass was still there from the stained-glass window I flew through just minutes before and I could feel the hot stickiness of blood running down my neck. Pulling on the Elevator Wheel brought us up to the height of the Zeppelins. They were flying directly toward us, parallel to one another and about one hundred feet apart.

Just before they reached us I turned off our starboard propeller. “Tell the gunners to hold their fire, and wait for my signal!” I yelled, and then threw the starboard propeller into reverse.

Ophelia
began a quick pivot just as the Zeppelins started to pass us. When they were evenly on both sides, I slowly reversed the starboard propeller again, and we took a course matching theirs. The plan here was simple enough, if it worked. We could hold position between them and this would make it very difficult for the fighter planes to get to us without hitting their own airships. This was not a course to victory. I was only stalling.

Ophelia
was not a small craft, and the distance between us and the other airships was only thirty or so feet. Of course, it would be easy enough for them to alter course and leave us exposed, but this was the best I could come up with on such short notice.