Moments In Time: A Collection of Short Fiction (3 page)

The deck above us was piled high with logs, used to fuel the engines. The amount of steam required to keep the ship in the air wasn’t as much as one would think, because of the steam-recycling units attached to the massive furnaces. With that said, it still required a lot of wood to keep a 400-yard-long ship in the air and moving. Luckily, there was a whole crew of people to take care of that.

After a full explanation of my duties on the ship, and the quickest routes to get around, Brennan put me to work making sure there were no leaks in the hoses. Even though the job took several hours, there was no complaint with the thoroughness of my work. The next day, he had me cleaning grease spots off the floors and machinery, before sealing any cracks in the engines. His hard green eyes watched me the whole time.

The days passed and the tasks became harder, but there was no job too tough for me to complete. The hope of completing things quickly and efficiently still didn’t earn me any respect. The ship was in tip-top shape, but my energy level was low and my constant exhaustion slowed me down even more. Brennan noticed immediately, and rode me harder because of it.

“If you can’t handle looking for loose screws,” he yelled, “maybe you should give up now and go home. This is obviously beyond your weak-bodied abilities.”

“I will check them again, sir,” my weak voice squeaked out, as tears started to well up.

“I don’t want you to check them again, I want you to quit. You aren’t going to last five minutes once we are under attack, so just get the hell out of here now and save us the time of throwing your lifeless body into the ocean.”

“I’m not going to quit!” I yelled back.

“Are you sassing me, boy?” he said through gritted teeth. There was something hidden in his eyes, a shakiness, or a pain of some sort. It was well hidden, but there, and my keen sense of observation caught it immediately. It was a look of sadness, the same pain that looked back at me every time my reflection stared back. The danger of the stare was a mask of something much more. A deep and true emotion was locked away behind hard eyes, and I wanted to glimpse it; I needed to glimpse it, to see someone else shared my pain.

“No, sir, there is nothing you can say or do to get me off this ship. If it is about saving my life, forget it. The lives of those below us are worth more than ours. It is our duty to protect them, and nothing will stop me from doing that.”

This made Brennan even angrier and he turned and threw out a fist, hitting the metal wall of the engine. The sound of snapping bone echoed off the walls, and he turned without another word and stormed out.

Exhaustion tore at my body, and Brennan was correct to doubt my ability to survive. We hadn’t seen any battles yet, but if he kept wearing me out, there would be no way my body would be able to handle the speed and clear-headedness needed for war. Having set my watch to survey, I watched him scurry off to work, then leaned against an engine for some much-needed rest.

Warships came and went, yet we stayed docked. Sitting on the edge of the main deck allowed me to watch them go out on missions, and I noted when many didn’t return.

Thomas’s two-dimensional face looked up at me most days where it rested inside the watch, but his expression in the photograph never changed. My heart darkened as his loss finally began to set in. Most of my days, I could push aside my pain by losing myself in work, but the rest of the time, my thoughts were all that kept me company.

Brennan kept me doing back-breaking or boring grunt work, and in the month I’d been on the ship so far, not one person wanted anything to do with me. He had likely told everyone to stay away, or more likely, no one wanted to know the kid who was going to die first.

This was good, of course. It didn’t matter much to me anyway, since the more people who knew me meant the more people who might discover my true identity. It was already bad enough the admiral was on the
Queen
, and could accidentally learn the captain’s wife had been working under his command, but there was no need for anyone else figuring it out, too.

Still, isolation began to wear on my sanity. On several occasions, a vision of Thomas came to me through clouds of steam, but it was always someone else who appeared when the steam cleared. The lack of friends and energy was going to kill me far faster than a bullet would.

• • •

Three months passed and my isolation began to wear on me. I quickly became angry and annoyed when Brennan issued orders. During a particular argument, he told me to check the screws again, and I informed him of what he could do with those screws. He grabbed my arms, threw me against the wall, and informed me that next time I argued with his orders, he would throw me off the edge of the ship without a parachute. Wisely, I decided it was best to say nothing to him instead of smarting off. I see now, my darkness worsened with every passing day.

On the night of November 7, 1875, four months after my arrival, we finally left the dock and headed toward a fight. Information of a squadron of Italian warships that headed quickly toward London gave the
Queen Victoria
no more time to stay out of the fight. All remaining air support was sent to intercept them. This would be the final stand for England. If we fell now, it was all over. England would be lost forever.

Brennan stood waiting, one hand wrapped from the break it had sustained. He looked at me and laughed at my wearing my full uniform, as he always wandered around shirtless to avoid overheating. This, of course, wasn’t an option for me.

“You’re going to be too hot,” he said, smiling. “You will be running full tilt around the ship and sweating like a thief. You should shed some layers.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied. He was right, of course, but if my breasts were bouncing all over the place while I ran around, someone would notice and it wouldn’t bode well for me. He simply shook his head and waited.

The deck was especially hot as the engines ran full steam, bringing us toward our destination. Sweat ran down Brennan’s bare chest, and my eyes were locked onto the sight of him. Long days alone with only myself left me mostly unsatisfied, and the thought of Brennan touching my body filled my head, making me turn away for a moment, disgusted at my thoughts’ betrayal.

He had been cruel to me daily, forcing a barrier between us, but now in the roaring engine room, waiting for a fight, I only noticed his beauty. His scruffy face and toned figure made me shiver, and the thought of what was under his trousers brought a sensation low in my belly, long forgotten. A vision of Thomas broke into my thoughts, and vomit broke free from my mouth.

“Get it up now, boy,” he said loudly over the roar of the engines. “Soon you won’t have time for that. Check your gear and prepare yourself.”

My tools were all there and had been checked three times. Thomas the watch was pressed firmly in my hand, along with the picture of Thomas inside. Just as I finished a prayer to God asking for forgiveness for my sins, the battle began.

The faint sound of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Our engines slowed as the unmistakable explosions came closer, then the ship shook violently and the communication tube came to life.

“Gun deck three, section five has taken severe damage, repairs required.” The yells and screams of my shipmates could be heard in the background; the sound of soldiers’ pain echoed off the walls. Brennan took off at a sprint, shouting orders that I could not understand. The bindings holding my bust also restricted my breathing and halfway there, I had to slow before passing out. The halls were in chaos, people running and yelling, sweat pouring from everyone’s brows, and the look of concern on every single one of their faces.

Upon entering section five, the sight before me brought shock and horror, and my limbs failed to move me any farther. Men lay burnt and bloody on the floor, their screams filling the room. Grown men lay with severed limbs, crying and screaming out for God to help them.

My breathing became fast and hyperventilation set in. My chest wanted to explode when it could not get enough air, but the grotesque scene before me kept my vision locked into place.

“Get these guns firing again, or we are all dead,” Brennan yelled as he grabbed hold of my arm and threw me toward one of the large guns. They were blown apart and it would be impossible to fix them. Fallen ammunition rolled underfoot, and for the second time since coming aboard ship, the ground caught me. As I dropped, my watch fell from my hand and sprang to life. It immediately looked around, turned its own knob, and ran off to fix the damage. When I hurried after, not wanting to lose Thomas a second time, things went terribly wrong.

A small section of metal had torn free of the wall, and the fight outside could be clearly seen. We were outnumbered at least three to one. The enemy swarmed our ships like wasps protecting their queen. Their cannons fired at an almost unstoppable speed, and our ships fell just as fast. This was, in fact, going to be the end of everything I knew. This was the end of England, of my family, and my friends. Everything Thomas gave his life for was being lost before my very eyes.

Then, in less than a second, something struck me in the ribs and a moist sensation ran down my side. The world slowly blurred and then went black.

Brennan was right. I hadn’t lasted five minutes.

• • •

Thomas lay next to me, propped up by one arm, the other running up and down my stomach. He nuzzled my neck, making my heart beat faster.

“You are purposefully being distracting,” I said, annoyed.

“Is it working?” he replied.

“No,” I lied. When he stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of sadness, it broke my heart. “Thomas, what if I am unable to bear your children?”

“We will keep trying.”

“And if it is not possible?”

“Then we will visit the orphanage, or do nothing at all.”

“This will sit well with you, having a wife who is unable to carry on your name?”

“Having you as my wife is all I need. Times are not what they once were. Do you want children who will grow up knowing only war, or worse, living in a country fallen? What if I join the fallen?”

“Don’t say that!”

“Mary, you need to end this delusion you are under. We are at war, one we may have started nonetheless, and we are losing. I have moved up the ranks through cleverness and luck. That won’t last forever. A captain can perish as fast as his crew, I am no exception.”

“You are one of the greatest captains England has ever seen.”

“And still a man who bleeds like everyone else. If a bullet strikes me in the heart, I die the same way one of my mechanics would.”

“Why do you hurt me so?”

“Because, Mary, you need to prepare yourself. I leave tomorrow and will be gone for months. If we don’t start winning battles, or find a peaceful resolution, I may not come back at all. You are my love, and I need you to be ready for any situation.”

The thought was more than I could bear and I pulled away from him, stood, and walked away. We didn’t speak another word that night, and he left early the next morning.

Three weeks later, a post came stating Thomas had been killed. His body had been badly mangled in a ship crash, and his fleet had buried his remains at sea.

• • •

The crackling of a fire woke me from my nightmare. Shirtless, ribs bandaged, and covered with a wool blanket, I looked around the makeshift shelter, wondering where I was and what was going on.

“Who are you?” Brennan asked as he sat with his back against a tree, gun in hand.

“Oliver Dick—”

“Cut the shit, lass. The question won’t be asked a second time. You will answer me, or I will put a bullet in you and rid the world of one more spy. Now, who are you?”

“I’m not a spy.”

“If that is true, why are you unable to tell me your name?”

I let out a sigh, thinking of my options. There were none. “My name is Mary Summers.”

Brennan’s eyes turned into slits and he stared daggers into me. He cocked the gun and pointed it unwavering at my head.

“That isn’t possible.”

“And why not? Why should my husband be able to die at the hands of the Italians, but his wife cannot? Why can’t I fight for the very same cause he died for?”

“You are the captain’s wife?” Brennan said, his eyes wide.

“I was.”

“But how? Why?” Brennan stood and began to yell.

“Please sit, sir, and let me explain.”

“Sir .
 . . sir! You’re the bloody captain’s
wife
!” His voice was panicked.

“And you are my commanding officer.”

“But—”

“Please sit so we can discuss this,” I pleaded.

Brennan paced around for several minutes, worry creasing his forehead. He looked at me, then to the ground and back again. Losing some battle in his head, he decided to sit far from me.

“Why?” he asked.

“Do you expect me to have stayed home, wearing black and feeling sorry for myself?” I said bitterly. “My husband is dead. He gave his life for a cause I scarcely understand. I have the right to know why he fought and how he felt being here.”

“You could have been killed!” Brennan yelled. “You still may, and I think that is what you wanted all along.” Accusation narrowed his eyes, making it hard to look into them knowing he had gleaned the truth.