The Catalyst was built as the fastest and most advanced subnautical machine known to man. The technologies it boasted dwarfed any that a government had on their best naval vessel. Captain Villes was a genius, but that was a close step to madness. He had explored the most daunting of areas around the globe. The polar caps, the deep trenches, underwater volcanos, and so many more places of mystery. He now endeavored to open the one part of the map no man had ever returned from, the Devil’s Triangle. Even if it meant the lives of his crew.
Elizabeth had known it had to be done, and she did it. The man had been mad, and he had to die. The Captain lay in a small pool of his own blood. The hair pin, dipped into the concentrated excretions of a lion fish, still jutted from his jugular. A few loose curls hung from the tight wound bun and cascaded around the nape of Elizabeth’s neck. The bun was supported by her one remaining hair pin; and its crystal-coated end cast small prism rainbows across the small cabin. They danced as the phosphorous algae in the lantern poured its almost white light across the room.
Elizabeth sighed and sat upon the bunk she had been provided. Zachary would have to be put in control of the vessel. That would not be hard, but first she needed him to come to the cabin and not react to the dead Captain. That would be more difficult. She needed to hide the body until she could explain the situation. All the furniture was bolted down to stop it from shifting as the oceangoing ship was rocked by the currents, so none of it could be used for that task.
She did not have time to debate this with herself; action must be taken. Standing with a determined clench to her jaw, she threw the blanket from the bed over the dead man, shrugged and sighed again. That would have to do. Stepping to the door, she opened it and spoke to the two sailors that stood their post outside.
“Andrew, Charles,” she said as she peeked her head out the door, “please fetch Zachary. The Captain is in need of his assistance. Thank you.” She smiled as they exchanged a look with each other. Nodding in unison, Andrew turned and left to find the ship’s Quartermaster.
Elizabeth closed and latched the door and looked around the small cabin, taking in the polished brass and rich velvets. Sighing again, she sat in one of the two chairs at the table. Women were not normally allowed aboard a sea vessel, but she was the exception to the rule. She always was the exception. The Captain’s advisor, Suykimo, had recommended her for her special skills. Little did she think she would be learning the new skill of assassination today. She was a woman of emotion. Not just her own, but of other people also. She had a way of knowing the emotional state of others, and influencing it when she needed to do so. Suykimo and she had met at an auction, where he had somehow noticed her using her talents to win certain items, or with the touch of a hand, a nod, or a soft smile making men spend more than they wanted for a piece she did not want. Suykimo had noticed her gifts and had drawn her aside after the auction, offering her a job as a nanny to a large group of older children. Grown children it seemed - the crew of the Catalyst.
Elizabeth had been a nanny before that time. When she learned of her employer’s passion for her, she had abandoned that employment, minutes after the man’s wife mysteriously learned of her husband’s scandalous past with other nannies. It was not proper for a man to behave in such a manner. Elizabeth made her own way after that. She went to the horse races and other places. She was adept at determining even the spirits of the horses, and quite often won any wager she placed by studying the animals before the race.
Within a minute of sitting, a delicate rapping sounded on the door and broke her reverie. The fan in her hand popped open as if it had a mind of its own and began fluttering, cooling her face as she flushed in nervousness. She crossed the chamber in two steps and unlatched the door and opened it a crack. Suykimo stood outside, his hands tucked in the end of his sleeves and his head bowed in respect. She opened the door wide enough to allow the wizened cartographer and advisor inside. He was shorter than Elizabeth and the light reflected off his shaved head as his sea green almond eyes looked around, taking in everything in the room.
“It is done. Let us hope it is not too late,” he said in his quiet, accented voice. “Of course you already sent for Zachary.” Suykimo rarely overlooked anything, and the missing sailor outside the door spoke volumes. He stepped to one side of the room, and by the time the he stood in the corner another knock came, this one loud and bold. Suykimo nodded at the woman as she glanced at him before reaching for the door and opening it.
A man in reddish leather armor stepped in, ducking so the handle of his sword on his back would not catch on the low door frame. He kept his weapons well-oiled and cared for, and his armor mended. The brass buckles shone in the light of the phosphorus algae lamp. He slid in with a sidestep, and swept the room with a look, his eyes settling on the covered form as his hand went to the polished wood grip of his pistol. Elizabeth closed and latched the door again.
Zachary was a warrior by nature, and was exceptional at making quick decisions under pressure, reacting with instinct from years of training. He moved with a fluid grace that seemed to be a blend of a dance learned from a snake and a hunting cat. He always looked as if he were about to crouch, never standing his full height and keeping his knees bent, unlike military trained men. His short black hair was combed back and his tanned skin showed that he preferred to be outside. He was not the type anyone would expect to see on a vessel that traveled under the waters.
Suykimo had known the man since Zachary was an orphaned child. The older man had come upon the boy in an alley standing over a pregnant dog and fighting five teens. Suykimo watched as Zachary took a beating which left bruises and cuts. But within minutes the older boys were scattered about the alley, defeated by the younger child. Suykimo had taken the boy to a dojo, after buying him a meal and cleaning him up, and introduced him to the art of swords and hand to hand combat. Over the next decade Zachary became trained in a dozen forms of combat from shooting to archery, from weapons to bare hands, and from solo tactics against groups to military strategy. The boy that had been passionate and angry became calm and collected under the direst of circumstances.
“Zachary,” Elizabeth began, his eyes darting to her face to read it as she spoke, his hand never leaving his sidearm, “I shall speak plainly. Pray, listen to what I say. Suykimo revealed the Captain’s course to me, though neither had revealed it to the crew. We are bound for the Devil’s Triangle.” She watched his face for any response but found none. He stayed his hand though, and she took that to heart.
“He planned to penetrate the mists that devour sea ships and airships alike to find what lies beyond. Suykimo already knows what is there, or at least has a singular idea. Death awaits us, not so much from the elements, but from something much more dangerous. He has chosen to not reveal what precisely this is, but assures me it would not be wise to venture there. He advised the Captain to turn aside from this folly, but was reminded of his place.”
Zachary looked at the foreigner, narrowing his eyes as if searching the horizon. Suykimo raised his to meet this gaze with a calm look, and nodded once.
“Go on,” the warrior said.
Elizabeth continued, her fan cooling her flushed face, the lace of her high collar dancing in the breeze. “Suykimo is certain none of us would survive if we continue this journey. We need you to take charge and return us to safe waters.” Letting out her breath in a rush, she waited for the man to reply.
“The First Mate is the one that should take charge, and you should be put in the brig until you can face a tribunal,” Zachary said.
Suykimo’s whisper of a voice was firm as he spoke. “Sanders is not the man to make strong and quick decisions. You are. And I have this.” The small man pulled a rolled document from his sleeve and held it towards Zachary. “It states that if Captain Villes were to no longer be able to command that you would take his title and duties. It is in his hand and bears his signature and seal. The First Mate is aware of these wishes and will not debate your right.”
> Zachary took the paper, unrolled it, and read it. Elizabeth was relieved to see that the Quartermaster’s hand was no longer on his weapon. Nodding, he passed it back to the older man. Kneeling, Zachary gripped the woven rug on the floor and with a sharp movement, popped the brass tacks that held it.
“Get the Captain’s feet,” he said to Elizabeth as he stepped to lift the dead man’s upper body. Together they placed the corpse on the carpet. He rolled the body in the rug. Standing with the dangerous grace that made men move from his path, he looked at Elizabeth. “Take care of this. Do not let the crew see the body; it would not be good for morale. Place it in my quarters and set Andrew and Charles to guard the door. Find me on the bridge. Suykimo, you’re with me.” The decision made, he moved to the door and opened it. Suykimo in tow, he turned left and glided past the two sailors without looking at them, leaving the door standing wide.