The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl (22 page)

“Marguerite!” Her named hissed at her from somewhere on the floor. “Marguerite, do you read me?”

“Jacques!” It was the talkie cracking to life. Marguerite picked it up and pressed down the button as she’d seen him do. “I’m here! Yes!”

“We must get all the women to the escape pods, do you remember where that is?”

“Yes, I do, but the corsairs are already here! We’ve barred all the doors.”

“They won’t be coming from the kitchen, take everyone out that way and down the kitchen stairs to the food hold. The pods are just down the hall from there. Do you remember?”

“Yes. I do. I will.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Jacques!” Marguerite hesitated; she felt like a fool.

“Yes? What?”

“Be careful!” She had to say it.

“I will, definitely. You be careful too. Laviolette out.”

“Ugh! That man! Outil, you heard what he said, we have to get everyone out the kitchen door. Make your way over there and I’ll start gathering people up.”

“Yes, miss.”

The two of them started explaining as quickly as they could and ushering people to the kitchen door that had just been expertly tied by one of Déja’s companions. As Outil explained how the vests worked and were to be worn, Marguerite approached the girl standing guard.

“Captain Laviolette says we are to use this exit to get to the escape pods.”

“I have heard nothing of the sort. Who are you to say?”

“I just spoke with him on this talkie.” She held up the little black box.

“I ain’t never heard of a talkie. What the world is that? If the captain wanted us to go somewhere else he’d have told us over the speakers there.” She pointed at the ceiling.

“He can’t very well announce to the whole ship where we’re headed now that the pirates are onboard and ransacking the place, now can he?” A few girls standing behind Marguerite nodded their heads and murmured in agreement.

Déja approached then. “What’s going on? Are you causing problems again, rich girl?” She pushed Marguerite, hard, in the chest.

But Marguerite was ready this time and stood her ground. “Captain Laviolette says we are to evacuate through the kitchens to the escape pods. He just told me over the talkie.” She held it up again, exasperated.

“Let me see that!” Déja grabbed it from her hand and pressed the button. Clearly she’d seen a talkie before. “Hello? Loverboy? Are you there?”

Dead silence.

“Hmm … doesn’t seem to be working, eh? How do I know you aren’t a corsair spy sent to deliver us into their arms?” Déja had a nasty look on her face.

“Of course I’m not a corsair spy! What is wrong with you? Do you want to die here?”

“She’s a Barbary witch I say! Let’s tie her up and feed her back to her own kind!” A cheer went up from behind Déja; the room was clearly divided now.

“We don’t have time for this! Can you hear them on deck?”
Thuds
and
bangs
were still sounding as the battle raged topside. “They’ve already started to make their way down here and if Jacques says we need to leave then we need to leave!”

“Barbary witch! Get her!” Déja and two of her lackeys lunged for Marguerite, but Outil was between them in a flash. With three fluid movements, never jostling even a hair on Vivienne’s head, she swung her foot, landing squarely in the center of Déja’s chest, then likewise with each of the other two girls. The three flew backward, knocking down the rest of the angry mob as they went. The whole room fell silent, allowing for the battle above to be heard more clearly.

Marguerite had to catch her breath for a second but didn’t miss much time. She turned back to the girl at the door who had already stepped aside. Outil made quick work of the knot in the rope, and shoved open the door.

“Lead them, m’lady. I’ll follow with Miss Vivienne once everyone is safely out.”

“Outil … you are amazing! This way!” she called to the other girls.

They successfully made it to the kitchen hold without incident. Marguerite checked the hallway before they continued to the escape pods. A few bots and several stewards and crew members were there waiting for them. One bot pulled a large lever to the side of the main door and a mechanical arm started to pick up pods and deposit them in rows in front of a giant bay door, still shut.

A bot approached her. “Miss, we will need six ladies per vessel plus one driver.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned to the girls. “Secure your vests and line up six to each pod!”

The positions quickly filled up. It was easy to see that there weren’t enough pods. She approached the bot again. “We need more pods, or more people in each one; we aren’t going to make it with these numbers.”

“I’m sorry but the legal weight limit requires six passengers and one driver per pod.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I doubt the people who wrote that law were under attack at the time! We’ll just have to get as many people in as we can. Girls! Make it seven!”

The lines shifted and groups changed; things were looking better. They might all just fit.

Outil entered then and pulled the door shut behind her, locking it with a heavy metal bar. “They breached the dining hall and are on their way here. We must hurry.”

“What about the girls? Did they all make it?” Marguerite had been watching for Outil, naturally, but had also been watching for Déja’s bright red scarf tied around her head. “Déja?”

“No, miss. I tried to get them to come and they would not, even after the fighting made it to the dining hall. I watched for them as I helped the others down the passage, but I never saw them. I waited as long as I could. I imagine they are trying to fight off the enemy now.”

As bots went around explaining and loading the pods, Marguerite wondered at the sounds of feet and battle in the hallway. She did not like Déja, but they came from the same small town, had eaten dinner at the same table the night before. Was she fighting for her life just outside that door? Thinking of dinner also made her think of the warm place on her lips. Where was Jacques?

Marguerite looked at her friend lying unconscious in the bot’s arms, so pale and limp. She touched her face, afraid she might have already slipped away during the chaos. Her skin was clammy, but she could feel the flow of air slowly entering and leaving her nose. “Outil, we have to get her out of here.”

A loud banging on the door startled them all. A bot peered out the small viewing glass that was much too high for Marguerite to reach.

“Is it the rest of the women? Crew?” she asked hopefully.

“No! It’s corsairs! They’re trying to break down the door. We must hurry!”

CRACK
… static followed as the talkie came to life again. “All hands! All hands! This is Captain Laviolette. We have underestimated our foe. These barbarians are technology fishers come for the ship and our automatons. We must evacuate all hands and destroy that which we cannot take with us. I order all hands to the emergency pods. Set direct course due west, we are not far from the coast and all who can escape should make New France within one day.” More static and bits of speech squelched over the box. Marguerite cursed and hit it with her palm. “I’ll see to the main ship. Laviolette out.”

“Jacques!” Marguerite pressed the button and called his name into the mouthpiece. “Where are you?”

There was no answer.

“Fool!” One of the other girls had huddled next to them and shouted when she heard the announcement. “What does he think he’s going to do? Fly this thing full of pirates on his own?”

“No, he’s not going to fly it anywhere.” Marguerite looked at Outil and somehow found understanding in the bot’s metallic eyes. “Outil, can you fly one of those things?” She nodded to the small pods.

“Yes, miss.”

“Good. If I remember correctly, the armory is this way.” She pulled the bot by the arm toward the other end of the hangar. Banging continued on the bulkhead door and the sounds of battle could be heard all around them as bots scurried to get ladies aboard escape pods. Suddenly the sounds of metal scraping metal filled the large room. The bay doors were opening and a wall of icy air hit them, causing everyone to hold their ears and turn their backs to the gale. The first pod edged toward the gaping hole in the underbelly of the Triumph.

Women’s screams could just barely be heard over the roar of battle and the rush of the wind as the little contraption spread its mechanical wings and launched into the blue abyss. It was a glorious site and Marguerite found herself holding her breath watching, every nerve at attention.

“Bless them … ” she whispered to herself. They had dropped completely out of view. Marguerite couldn’t help but wonder how much testing had been done at this altitude and speed on the little boat-planes.

She looked for the pirate ships, but they could not be seen from this angle. Still, she knew they were there and that left no certainty for their safe escape. She pulled Outil along once more and stopped at a small door on the far end of the room.

A steward rushed by and Marguerite grabbed his arm, pulling him close enough to speak. “Is this the door to the armory?”

“Yes, miss!” he shouted back.

“Have you a key?”

“It’s not locked from this side, miss, only from the passageways. But we don’t need to bother with weapons right now. We are safe as can be here in the belly, we’ll have you out in no time!” He shouted in her face and then turned back to his duties.

“The placating on this ship has gotten completely out of hand,” Marguerite muttered as she forced the door open and peered carefully inside, hoping the door from the hallway was still locked.

An eerie red emergency light filled the room and glinted off rows of pistols and swords as well as strange contraptions she’d never seen before.

She pulled Outil in out of the wind. “What’ll it be? Do you know what any of these things are or do you fancy a pistol?”

“I was not designed as a combat bot, miss. Forgive me.”

“It seems you’ve done all right so far. You certainly gave Déja and her companions a thump up there. And I’m not leaving this pod for the wide open airspace without some sort of protection.”

“It has been several months since you’ve fired a weapon, m’lady.”

“How did you know … ” Marguerite had never told anyone of her trips into the woods with Claude and her father’s guns.

“Master Claude spoke of your skill and accuracy a few times before he left us. Only when we were alone in the workshop, of course.”

“Well, I’ll take this then.” She lifted a small revolver from off the wall, checked it for rounds, and tucked it into Outil’s life vest. Then she took four more and tucked them into her skirt waist. She found a small knife in a sheath and strapped it to her boot under her skirts.

“I assume you can figure it out if the need arises?”

“Yes, miss, of course.” Outil sounded slightly put out.

“I’ve never shot a moving target and you’ve never shot anything at all, let’s hope we don’t have to change that today. Ready?”

“Yes. Let us go.”

They joined the line for what few ships were left, climbing into one that was mostly crew.

“Save one seat,” Marguerite said to the bot and steward helping them.

“M’lady, we need every seat available.”

“I know. But we have someone to pick up.” Marguerite secured her goggles over her eyes once more.

“Anyone who’s getting out is in this hangar.”

“Not everyone, we’re going to get your captain.”

“Miss, in all honesty, we don’t know where he is.”

“I do. Just trust me and let’s get going!”

Outil and Marguerite worked fast to strap Vivienne’s limp body into her seat before securing themselves. A bot stepped into fly for them but Outil raised her hand.

“I can manage.”

“You are not trained,” came the flat reply.

“Yes I am, and there are other pods left that could use your expertise.”

The bot looked to the crew members for direction, who wasted no time in giving orders. “Go! Do as she says! We have to get the hell out of here!”

With Outil at the helm and Marguerite by her side, Vivienne strapped in between them and the rest of the eight seats taken by three very young, very frightened crew members and two other ladies, Marguerite pulled down her goggles and their ship headed toward the line of escaping vessels.

BOOM!
An air cannon fired somewhere.

“Why would they be firing? They are moored to the Triumph!” Marguerite had to scream the question at Outil to be heard.

Outil merely altered the volume of her voice box and spoke easily over the din, “I’m sure they were not firing at the Triumph. It would not be logical. We may be able to assume aid has arrived.”

But as they reached their turn to exit the great ship, Marguerite saw a terrifying thing before her: just as another
BOOM
filled the air she spotted a few of the escape pods that had flown out before them. One moment they were drifting easily away from the chaos on their little wings, the next, a blast of air from the pirate’s cannons hurled them forward, ripping their wings and sending them spiraling end over end, out of control toward the open sea below.