Lady Mechatronics

Finally, Hartwell saw a vague outline of the old galleon in the smoke and he realized that Madrigal’s ship had been carried by the waves to almost within jumping distance of the Plymouth. The rowing boat had been torn away from the side of the Plymouth by the forces of wind and water and Hartwell wasted no time in giving his final order on what had been his ship.

“Into the sea and swim,” he commanded. “Powder monkeys,” he yelled to the small used to tend and operate the cannons. “To me.” The boys, who found the captain to be an enigmatic yet fair man and who had witnessed the actions of Admiral Johnson with much indignation, scampered out from their hiding places and joined their captain.

“Grab a boy,” commanded Hartwell. His crew all grabbed at least one child each, as did Madrigal, while Hartwell took the smallest boy in one hand while holding his sister in the other. “Jump! Belay that!” The crew looked in fuzzy incomprehension as Hartwell ran to his cabin at the back of the vessel and emerged after a few moments with a bottle of absinthe. He grabbed the boy and Susanna once more as he re-joined the mutineers and shouted again, “Jump!”

They leapt out into the sea and noticed too late that the water was glowing red, a deep scarlet hue which flashed disturbingly beneath the waves. Fortunately, they all broke the surface of the water with no obvious ill effects. Apart from the strange glow, the sea was normal and the crew swam toward Madrigal’s ship.

It took a while for them to reach the vessel, hampered as they were by holding onto the frightened boys. As they reached the galleon and began climbing the ropes thrown down for them by the crew, they all felt a strange prickling sensation that seemed to envelop the entire body, inside and out. Each person, however, thought it was probably the trauma of the past few minutes and said nothing about it.

Behind them, the sounds of the two navy crews being cursed by Admiral Johnson drifted through the black smoke and white mist. Hartwell knew they only had minutes to escape. “All hands, cut and run!” he roared.

“Do it,” bellowed Madrigal at what was left of his crew. The men swung into action, bypassing the standard procedures by slicing lines to the anchor and rigging in order to expedite the escape of the galleon.

“Powder monkeys, make the cannons ready. Tench, Fitch, you’re on gunnery duty,” continued Hartwell. “Madrigal, where is your pilot?”

“Dead,” replied Madrigal, his lips thinning in fury at the betrayal and slaughter of his crew.

“I understand,” said Hartwell, quietly, “but we have no time for grief now. I need you at the wheel. You know this vessel better than us and your expertise can get us out of here.”

Madrigal nodded, seeing the truth of Hartwell’s words. Madrigal knew how low the galleon sat in the water, what her turn radius was, all the details required to pilot the ship through deep and shallow waters.

“Heading?” he asked.

“Anywhere that is not here,” replied Hartwell. “We’ll worry about a heading if we can outrun the Plymouth and the Morning Star.”

“On this vessel?” said Tench, looking around at the creaking, rotten galleon. “They’re faster, more powerful and new. We don’t stand a chance!”

At first glance, it seemed that Brough was right. Hartwell’s crew was outnumbered, Brough’s cannons had blown yet more gaping holes in the upper decks of the galleon, and Nani and his followers appeared to be trying to bribe the enemy rather than fight them.

Fortunately, Hartwell’s closer inspection revealed that Madrigal had knocked his opponent unconscious and now had free use of his hands, while behind them, the door to the rear cabins had opened and Madrigal’s brother, Anatole, had stepped through. On his own, Anatole was large enough to give any invading crew pause for thought. Behind Anatole came the second reason for any invading crew to turn and flee. Mechatronic had emerged onto the deck.

The invading crew gasped in horror as the silver woman stalked haughtily through the lines of brawling men. Cries of “It’s a mermaid!” and “It’s a demon!” echoed out over the ship.

“We will take your surrender now,” shouted Hartwell over the mêlée. He would prefer to end the confrontation without bloodshed, especially when the blood in question was that of his own crew. He looked over at Captain Brough, whose bravado had deserted him somewhat.

“Kill them!” screamed Brough eventually. “Kill them all before they curse us!”

Hartwell rolled his eyes in disbelief—why couldn’t anyone just run away or surrender on seeing the silver figure of Mechatronic? Why the innate urge to kill her and all her associates? It was something to ponder over but later, when he didn’t have someone trying to slice his head from his shoulders. “Madrigal, their sails,” he yelled.

Madrigal lifted his hands and pulses of bright green energy slid out from his fingers, burning the flesh and making him yelp. He forced his hands to stay on target as the pulses flowed outward to Brough’s ship, striking the side and blowing chunks out of the deck and rail. The rigging and masts exploded under the onslaught, the sails catching fire as sparks flew left and right.

Brough and his pirates screamed in terror, some running back to their ship, others trying to kill whichever crewmembers they happened to be facing.

One lunged at Mechatronic, who parried the blow and punched the man on the nose, dropping him, while another headed for Anatole, madly waving a small axe over his head. He never made it. Susanna ran out onto the deck and flung her arm out toward the man. A whip of fine metallic strands erupted from her skin, slicing through the pale flesh as it shot forward and entwined the pirate round the legs, tripping and concussing him on the hard, wooden deck. The whip retracted and the skin healed in Susanna’s wrist, leaving nothing but a faint white line.

“I do worry that whip is not entirely ladylike,” murmured Susanna to herself as she rubbed her wrist, feeling the pain quickly ebb away to nothing.

Soon, only Brough was left standing. He watched as his last two men, who had been fruitlessly attacking Hartwell for fifteen minutes, grew ever more despondent and tired until one made an error and Hartwell neatly disarmed him. The second man, seeing that Hartwell was still fresh, dropped to his knees and threw his sword away in supplication.

“What manner of cursed demons are you?” gasped Brough in fear.

“We are not demons,” replied Hartwell.

“Though we may be cursed,” muttered Fitch, darkly.

“What do we do, Captain?” asked Fitch nervously.

“We must find and fortify a camp. This clearing is too exposed.”

“I noticed a few caves on the beach close to where we were abandoned,” said Tench. “Perhaps we could hold up in there?”

“That may not be such a good idea,” replied Hartwell. “That part of the island is enclosed by cliffs, making it a trap.”

“So what do you suggest, James?” asked Susanna.

“We go further inland, to the interior of the island.”

“That’s madness!” gasped one of the crew. “We would walk right into the lion’s den!”

“Thus making it the last thing the cannibals would expect,” explained Hartwell. “It will give us an advantage.”

“Only until they find and slaughter us!”

“Don’t forget our other advantage—the strange technology of Lady Mechatronic which riddles our bodies. With this edge and by carrying the campaign to the enemy, I believe we can increase our chances of survival.”

“That is a rather risky piece of speculation,” observed Madrigal uneasily. “Besides which, it is a short-term plan only.”

“Indeed. Finding the cannibals’ route on and off the island is the ultimate goal. They must have boats for their raiding parties. We need to find their roads and then follow them to wherever they keep their vessels moored. To find such a road, however, we must venture inland.”

“It’s still just guesswork,” said another member of the crew.

“Fortunately, we have a man with experience of this terrible island,” said Hartwell. “Lucky Pete, what can you tell us about this place and its inhabitants?”

Pete, trembling in every limb and recoiling at every nocturnal sound, was too terrified to even be aware that he had been spoken to. He was shaking to such an extent, the cloth tied around his blind eyes was coming loose.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” said Keating. “He’s just too frightened to understand anything.” She gave Pete’s one remaining arm an encouraging squeeze, forgetting her disguise of a roistering cabin boy as her natural concern for Pete shone through.

“Understandable, but a pity,” said Hartwell. “Do what you can to soothe him. Any information Pete can give us could be the difference between life and death. Now, we must move and find a camp. We must choose to either head for the caves on the beach or follow my suggestion of heading inland.”

“Inland,” said Mechatronic immediately. “I agree with your reasoning, Captain. We must take the fight to the savages, otherwise we are lost.”

A muttered rumble of agreement went round the group.

“Carried by the majority,” said Madrigal with a wry smile. “I do not know the best course of action, but I will follow the group’s desires.”

“Right, let’s get moving,” said Fitch with a grin at the camaraderie that was present, despite the fear covering the group. “My night vision just kicked in and I can see the jungle as clear as daylight.”

“Form a line,” commanded Hartwell. “We have no conventional weapons, so be prepared with your inbuilt defences. Given that it is pitch black, I want you all to link yourself to the person ahead of you, so no one gets separated and lost. I also need a volunteer to take the rear-most point.”

“No, you don’t,” said Madrigal, flipping off a quick salute and moving down the line.

“Brave man,” murmured Fitch. The last man in the line would be the most vulnerable.

“The bravest,” said Anatole, Madrigal’s brother, as he too walked down to the rear.

“All ready?” asked Hartwell, hoping his theory was sound and he was not leading everyone to disaster. “Then move out.”

“Madrigal, turn us about,” continued Hartwell. “Set a course for Pirate Cove.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” grinned Madrigal as he hauled the wheel and moved them away from the pirate vessel. The old galleon rolled from left to right as it ploughed the sea, though since Mechatronic’s upgrades, the rolling gait was much smoother as some form of dampening field helped to protect the ship against the movement of the ocean, making Madrigal’s control of the vessel almost absolute. Everyone was therefore astonished when the galleon lurched madly, making them fear that they were sinking.

Hartwell looked out and saw the ocean was rising and falling in a highly localised area, moving from left to right across his vision, as though something huge was moving at high speed under the surface. The crew turned their attention to the pirate vessel, which seemed to be directly in the path of whatever was disturbing the sea.

They watched in astonishment as a whirlpool formed around the pirate vessel, causing it to spin around, unable to counter whatever was creating the furious currents. Then, with a gigantic roar, something broke the surface of the water, something huge, something that shrieked and bellowed in anger, something that had never been seen or heard before.

Gigantic tentacles reached up and grabbed the pirate vessel, wrapping around the ship, crushing and splintering the hull. The central body of the thing rising from the ocean was a colossal stalk of green, scaly skin, topped with a bulbous head containing a repellent slit for a mouth and a single eye, larger than a sailing ship, which blinked in the sudden daylight as it broke the surface of the water.

“By all the Gods, it’s the kraken!” gasped Fitch, looking in astonishment at the creature. All sailors knew of the legends of the kraken, but none had ever seen it before.

“Look!” shouted Susanna, her hand pointing to something that twinkled in the bright Caribbean sun. “Look at the body! It has metallic tentacles!”

The crew squinted at the creature, unable to make out the details under the blazing sun and the tons of water cascading down from the creature as it crushed the pirate vessel.

“Are you sure?” shouted Bardon, one hand raised to shade his eyes from the glare. “It could just be ze sun reflecting off ze scales of zat beast!”

“Susanna is correct,” said Mechatronic, her superior eyes adapting to the glare. “That creature has biomechanical implants.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” asked Hartwell, who could see very little as the creature thrashed in the water and the sun continued to dazzle his vision.

The monster turned its baleful eye down to the doomed pirate ship held firmly in its tentacles and a red glow illuminated the immense black pupil. A laser beam erupted from the eye and smashed into the vessel, so hot it melted flesh, so powerful it smashed through the hull as though it were thin ice. With a final roar, the leviathan sunk back down into the sea, dragging the burning, disintegrating vessel with it.

“Fairly certain, yes,” said Mechatronic in the silence that followed.