Steam City Pirates (22 page)

“Our reward will come when the Society has been able to reach its goal,” he said.

“What goal is that?” I asked.

“Getting steam power into every house, business and government installation in America, of course!” he answered.

“In the meantime, do they pay you anything?” I wanted to know just how dedicated these kidnapped inventors were.

“We get any tools and materials we need, and we also get free lodging and food. Of course, we cannot leave the premises or go back to the future. We had to make a choice once we were here, and I made mine. Others were sent back to where they were living, but I am extremely satisfied with my conditions here at the Society.” Mister Pearson, adorned with the brass pipes, continued eating his mutton and peas, and I had learned a lesson about how the Society ran its underground business.

After the meal, we all assembled outside the dining cave in the main reception grotto. Manette entered from another side cave, and I assumed it was his headquarters. He had two men with him. He introduced them as Inquisitor Narcis Monturiol i Estarriol, an inventor from Spain, and Captain Ralph W. Christie of the future United States Navy. They shook hands with all of the inventors, and Manette led us about two hundred yards across the steaming floor of the cavern to another cave. He stood in front of this entrance, his eyes beaming red under a moving, copper-pleated Nemes on his head. He wore a white toga, and the copper coil encircling his throat vibrated and steamed when he addressed us.

“We have dug an underground waterway to the harbor, and this is the port we have directly under Central Park. The submarine you will tour has been constructed under the supervision of Mister Monturiol. The steam-powered weapon it will use was developed by Captain Christie. Together, they make the most dangerous weaponry of 1868. Our plan is to show the merchant vessels that come into our port that they will face certain death! We shall show them by sinking one ship to demonstrate what power we possess. Once these merchant owners realize that we will simply take from their cargo once per month, they will allow us free reign over their supplies. If they should attempt to thwart our piracy in any way, however, we will immediately fire a torpedo and send them to the bottom of the ocean! Come with me, ladies and gentlemen, and we shall tour the WSASP submarine,
Mocha Dick
, named for the notorious sperm whale that destroyed over 20 whaling ships and survived encounters with 80 others. Author Herman Melville wrote of this 70-foot long albino monster in his novel,
Moby Dick
. In keeping with its namesake, we have painted our submarine white. When merchant vessels see her under the water, they will know they are in immediate danger!”

Following that rather bombastic introduction we were led into the cave. At the water’s edge, we saw the underwater monster. She was also over 70 feet long, from the tip of its bow to the fin of its rudder, and she was, indeed, all white. Mister Monturiol led the way as we climbed aboard the gently rocking vessel alongside the pier.

“Watch your step! I have corrugated rubber on the top deck, but it can still be awkward going because of its oval shape,” the inventor told us.

I walked gingerly along the top of the sub, holding onto the railings provided for our tour. When I reached the hatch leading down into the vessel, I had to squeeze myself down the ladder of the water-tight chamber leading to the deck below. After we had all come down the ladder, we stood around the conning tower, and Monturiol continued the discussion of his invention.

“The vessel has a double hull—a spherical inner shell that resists water pressure—and an outer whale-like hull that protects the submarine and is used for steerage and hydrodynamics.” Monturiol placed his right hand lovingly along the inside of the hull.

“How do you overcome the air pressure in order to dive?” one of the female inventors asked.

“Good question. Between both hulls are four ballast tanks which are controlled by these valves,” he said, placing his fingers on two circular valves painted red. “These valves allow water to enter during a dive and air to enter during a surface maneuver. During the dive, pitch and roll is controlled by this weight,” he pointed to a large iron piece affixed to a long railing. Simply by moving it along the rail, one can maintain the precise depth needed for firing a torpedo or for staying beneath the surface.”

I knocked with my knuckles upon a small glass porthole on the starboard side of the submarine. “What purpose do these have?” I asked.

“Those are part of the safety devices I have installed for emergencies. These glass ports are on both sides, the top, and in the nose. They enable water pressure to push inside these ports, which prevents any leaks.” Monturiol moved down the passageway toward the engine compartment.

I took the opportunity to ask the torpedo man a question. “Captain Christie? Where were you when you were brought back here to work for the Society?”

He turned toward me and smiled. “I had just developed the Mark 14 torpedo for the Navy after we were attacked by the Japanese at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. It is steam-powered and very fast, and we were going to use it in all our submarines. I decided to come back to help the Society because we must stop war for all time.”

“You never saw it used in action?” I inquired.

“No, it was going to be used on December 24 by the
SS-188 Sargo
. Commander Tyrell D. Jacobs was going to test my weapon under battle conditions,” Captain Christie informed me. “Alas, I will never get to see how it ran,” he added.

Monturiol continued his presentation. “Many thought it impossible to run a steam engine underwater because it would use up all of the oxygen and turn this compartment into an oven. To overcome this obstacle, I invented this chemical furnace based on a reaction between potassium chlorate, zinc and manganese dioxide. This process produces enough heat to boil water to run this steam engine and keep the compartment cool by the release of pure oxygen as a byproduct.” Monturiol pointed to one of the burning candles covered by a wire protective cover. “We use candles to light the compartment because it serves as an early warning when our oxygen is running low.”

“Where is the torpedo?” I asked, smiling over at Captain Christie.

“Ah, yes. I can only show you where the two torpedoes will be stored. It is the policy of the Society to keep all weapons under lock and key until they are to be used. Beneath your feet are two outer compartments large enough to hold the twenty-foot long deadly fish modeled after Captain Christie’s Mark 14 design. It has a magnetic exploder that is rigged to detonate beneath the keel of a merchant vessel, thus bypassing any armaments it may possess on the outer hull. Therefore, when struck, the ship will open up like an exploded tin can and sink almost immediately.”

“Goodness!” said the woman who had asked about the air pressure. “I thought we were a peaceful group of inventors,” she added.

Monette spoke up from the back of the compartment. “We are an organization that must maintain peace! The leaders of these merchants want to gain power over us through their technology. They will do anything to make a profit, and we must stop them because we know where it will all lead unless they are prevented.”

Monturiol got the last word in for the day. “I want you all to know that Master Manette has guaranteed me all the money I need to create an underwater city where we can harvest the limitless bounties therein, and where we can learn to feed and provide for the poor of every nation. I would not have agreed to this piracy had it not been for his continued generosity.”

Everyone inside the
Mocha Dick
applauded. I also clapped with discretion, but I was thinking about what I would later ask this leader of the Society. I needed to get enough information to prepare our steam robot for battle. In addition, I wanted to do some time travel exploration to see exactly what the war Captain Christie had mentioned had led to. Time was growing short, and the Network needed to unclog this obvious blockade in time. The Society was not working to keep the peace. On the contrary, they were moving unalterably toward a dictatorship wherein we would all become slaves to this one man’s unbridled passion.

Chapter 10: Wherein We See the Fantastic Employment of Steam Men, Their Construction and Ambulation

Later that evening, when I was invited to Abraham Manette’s personal cave, I brought with me the designs of the steam men that Doctor Franklin Biggs-Pemberton had given me. Our ultimate plan was to construct a mechanical warrior that could be easily defeated by the one we would design for ourselves. After that occurred, the midget members of the Network would swarm out of our mechanical man and inject Manette, Jane the Grabber, and John Allen with a deadly drug made inside the laboratory of the hospital.

The Grand Inquisitor’s cave was actually quite austere. It had a long bed with one pillow, white sheets and a plain coverlet. There were no paintings, expensive furniture or other ostentatious objects. There was a single desk made of polished, plain oak or some other sturdy wood, and seven functional chairs surrounding this desk for his guests. It was not the domicile of a future dictator. Of course, this could all be a cover for a more clandestine pursuit.

I was most interested in finding out about Manette’s story and how he came to be the leader of the Society. Again, I had to take whatever he told me with the proverbial “grain of salt” or perhaps even a mountain of sodium chloride, depending on how honest he wanted to be with me. I knew I had my time machine, and I could travel to wherever Manette said he originated. I would travel there to see if he were telling me the truth. Time travel certainly had its advantages in this case.

I was still concerned about Doctor Adler, although Bessie said she would look into his activities for me. I was also troubled that the Network as described by Doctor Biggs-Pemberton allowed for the destruction of planets. There was no present way for me to check on the veracity of his explanation. My time machine simply could not travel into different universes, and I had to take the little man at his word. What he said only made sense if one believed his sermon about freedom of time travel and the creation of alternate universes that were fashioned after others were destroyed. I needed to act within my own universe in order to discover any clues to point me in the right direction. The problem with this was that I was horrified of time travel. Doctor Adler instructed me that this was the way of the hero, so I had accepted my calling.

Inside the belly of this beast beneath Central Park, I sat in a chair to face my antagonist. He had the same magnetic red eyes, and I felt my entire body stiffen in place as he spoke to me. My eyes were riveted in place by his, and I took shallow, quick breaths.

“Doctor Rondel-Goodwin! I will tell you this only once, so I suggest you pay extreme attention. Your adopted country of Japan will be bombed in the future by a weapon that we are sworn to prevent. In fact, the city of Nagasaki, which is very close to your islet of Hashima, was the second victim of this dastardly act. The first city that was chosen by the Americans as a target was Kokura, but haze prevented it from being hit. As a result, the alternative was Nagasaki. I wanted to tell you this because you must see that death is real for humans, and even the life of one human is too many to lose. For you see, Doctor, my mind is connected to all humanity, both in the past and in the future. Because of this one reality, I was called upon to prevent the annihilation of your world.”

“I don’t understand. How can you be connected to all humanity?” I asked, sitting forward in my chair and biting my lower lip. I was again entering a dream, it seemed, right out of Poe’s nightmares.

“These two bombs, nicknamed ‘Fat Man’ and ‘Little Boy,’ were used to force the surrender of the Japanese government. They succeeded in doing so, but not after over 200,000 civilians had been disintegrated, burned beyond recognition as humans, and tortured genetically into generations yet to come. For you see, Doctor, this weaponry is beyond despicable. Let me connect you with two people who saw what happened on those two days. They were both survivors. I can travel back in my mind to those events and allow you to hear them through me. First, this is a man who sees his home city of Hiroshima just following the bomb explosion.” Manette’s face contorted into a grimace, and his red eyes glowed with an inner power. The brass coil around his neck vibrated and steamed, and the voice that came out of it had a heavy Japanese accent. “The appearance of people was . . .well, they all had skin blackened by burns. . .They had no hair because their hair was burned, and at a glance you couldn't tell whether you were looking at them from in front or in back. . .They held their arms bent forward like this,” Manette made his tall body contort into a pretzel shape, “and their skin, not only on their hands, but also on their faces and bodies, hung down. . .If there had been only one or two such people . . .perhaps I would not have had such a strong impression. But wherever I walked I met these people . . . Many of them died along the road--I can still picture them in my mind--like walking ghosts.”

The sound of the voice was ringing in my ears. It was so loud and torturous, and then Manette began again, with the voice of another survivor from Nagasaki.

“The pumpkin field in front of our house was blown clean. Nothing was left of the whole thick crop, except that in place of the pumpkins there was a woman's head. I looked at the face to see if I knew her. It was a woman of about forty. She must have been from another part of town--I had never seen her around here. A gold tooth gleamed in the wide-open mouth. A handful of singed hair hung down from the left temple over her cheek, dangling in her mouth. Her eyelids were drawn up, showing black holes where the eyes had been burned out. . .She had probably looked square into the flash and gotten her eyeballs burned.”

I could take no more of this. “Stop it!” I yelled. I was no stranger to war and to death on the battlefield, but this description of civilians dying from the most shocking weapon we humans could devise, it was all too much to bear.