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In minutes, Nita had changed back into her work suit. It may still have been wet, but she’d rather be damp and have all of her tools handy than dry and trying to get real work done in a dress. Now that she wasn’t constantly avoiding streams of dangerous steam, tracing out the operation of the boiler was at least possible. One thing was certain from the first hard look at it; the thing was needlessly complex. There was undeniable genius in its design, from components that were more intricate than she’d ever seen before to linkages that were nothing short of inspired, but for every work of industrial art there were two unnecessary features. Pipes traced nonsensical routes, folding back on themselves and tucking themselves far out of the way. Manifolds of intimidating complexity split pipes only to join them together again. Scores of extraneous components were placed in just such a way that removing or breaking even one of them would severely impair the function of the whole system. In short, it was fragile by design, intended to scare away would-be engineers and remain just sturdy enough to get back to the fug to be serviced regularly by its creators. It was a testament to the brilliance of its designers that, despite the purposeless complexity, it managed to be easily twice as efficient as the boilers back home.
If she had a day, she knew she could remove and reuse enough pieces to get most of its functionality back. If she had a few weeks, she could probably throw away half the mechanism and end up with a simpler, sturdier boiler that they could easily maintain themselves.
“It wouldn’t be difficult at all,” she concluded after explaining as much.
“And in exchange for that we lose our trade privileges with the fug folk in perpetuity. I don’t think you realize how much of their work and goods we rely upon,” Gunner countered.
“They are taking advantage of you. Of everyone! They’ve been doing your work for you so long that you’ve forgotten how to do it yourselves.”
“The advantage is theirs to take. And I’d keep my voice down if I were you. They are sure to hear you.”
“How? From where? Are they lurking in the shadows, Gunner?” She picked up a manifold that had been entirely dislodged by the boiler damage. “Is this bit of pointless complexity a listening device? They’ve got you paranoid.”
“Justifiably and stubbornly, so may we please move on?”
She sighed in frustration, throwing down the manifold and startling Wink, who had been staring at them with an indignant look since they chose to invade his domain. “You say you can replace valves, and we have one replacement. Where is it and which ones can it replace?”
He fished it out of the box and held it out to her, pointing with the other hand. “They’ll let us replace any of these five valves.”
“Well, those two are still working, and these two are on sections of ruptured pipe. This one was venting steam earlier, but if I followed it correctly, it only leads to the winches.”
Gunner nodded. “Come to think of it, those are always breaking down. Best to replace it.”
“What good would that do?”
“It would fix the winches.”
“That wouldn’t do me any good. I need the turbines working.”
“You are a member of this crew now. It doesn’t matter what is good for you, only what is good for the ship. You claim to be able to fix the whole boiler, let’s see you do some work.”
She nodded, more interested in getting back to her own task but not really able to argue with him. The procedure was the work of moments, something she’d done a thousand times back at the steamworks. When she was through, Gunner inspected it.
“Passable work,” he said. “That’s about all you can do in here then.”
“According to the rules, anyway. These thick pipes here lead to the turbines, I think. They run up to the next floor. I’m going to try to trace them out again. Maybe there is something I missed.”
“Suit yourself, but leave your tools so I can be sure you aren’t doing anything you shouldn’t. Perhaps you enjoy spending your time staring at pipes, but I’ve got a few hours of my own to look at that fléchette gun from the wailer.”
“Oh?” she remarked, steadily dropping her tool sash, tool belt, and monkey-toe wrench to the floor. “I’m surprised the all-seeing fug folk will allow you to tinker with that?”
“It isn’t part of the ship. They couldn’t care less what we do with salvage.”
Gunner stood outside the door, waiting patiently for her to join him in the hall.
“Why do I feel more like a prisoner with each passing moment?” she asked.
“Because you are new on the ship and the captain doesn’t know if he can trust you.”
He tried to shut the door to the boiler room, but Wink scooted out just before it shut tight. The little beast glared with its beady red eye, first at Gunner, then at Nita.
“You know, for all I’ve heard about this thing being the ship’s inspector, I haven’t seen it do very much inspection at all. All it seems to do is sleep in the boiler room or stare at me.”
“He must be doing his rounds or we’d have shaken to pieces during those maneuvers, but as inspectors go, he’s not the best I’ve seen. I wouldn’t let the captain hear me say that, though. He loves that thing.”
“I wonder why.”
“I never cared enough to ask. See you at mealtime, and don’t do anything foolish.”
Nita nodded and set off toward the nearest ladder to find where the turbine feed pipes let out. Wink hopped along behind her, not taking his eye off her. It was the work of hours to trace out the maddening network of pipes again and again, trying to tease out an understanding of their layout. She stopped for meals twice, and once to sleep, but she was determined to find some way to keep to their schedule. Tracing the pipe runs from beginning to end more than three times revealed something new each time. Sometimes it was a new twist or turn that had escaped her notice on the previous pass, other times new valves presented themselves, or redundant connections turned up. Ginger taps to the pipes revealed that some were still getting steam, sending her once again to the start to find how it had gotten there and if it could be coaxed into running the turbines. A handful of adjusted switches and valves got the pressure as far as a leaky connection tucked deep in the space below some floorboards on the main deck that had been damaged during the attack. It must have been a troublesome connection even before taking a blow in the fight, because an ancient and moldy rag was tied around it, presumably in some fug folk approved attempt to get the leak under control. Now it was rushing with steam so viciously she could barely get near it.
“Ms. Graus. Sounds to me like some of those ailing turbines are showing signs of life,” the captain called out.
“Yes, Captain. This maze of piping is finally revealing its secrets. If I can just find one or two more tubes between here and the turbines, or maybe knock loose a clog, I think I could get them moving again.”
“Well, that’s fine, ma’am, but until you do, shut the pressure back off. Unless those turbines are up to full speed they’re just a waste of steam.”
“Agreed.” She reached down under the deck board and found the nearest valve, cutting the steam to the connection.
“We’re pulling up on the Lags,” he said. “I’ll be taking Butch, Coop, and Gunner to help me fetch the supplies. You’re here with Lil. We’re going to let the boiler go cold while we’re docked. I want the two of you to patch up the hole in the envelope, then scrape out the firebox and reservoir. Should get us another few knots.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Ah! Ah ha!” Gunner crowed in triumph, the sound accompanied by a metallic grind as he pulled something free from the wailer craft. As Nita had been investigating the pipes, he’d been working on it with the same diligence and had managed to splay a sampling of the mechanical innards of the vehicle over much of the deck, piled in crates and baskets. “Finally got the gun free! And the grappler too!”
“Any use to us?” the captain asked.
“Both ar
e steam powered. They’d have to be installed. You think we’ll have the money to have it done?”
“Let’s get there first. We can talk figures later. Stand ready, I’m bringing her down.”
A grinding sound kicked up above them, the same one that always accompanied their descents, and the ship tipped forward a bit. Nita carefully worked her way to the railing, held tight, and looked to the horizon. After her embarrassing first reaction to the view off the deck, and twice more nearly repeating it, Nita decided the churning her stomach did every time she remembered how high she was would have to be overcome, sooner rather than later. The number of times her pipe investigations had taken her to the deck gave her ample opportunities to immerse herself in the frightening view. Sure enough, each time it lost a bit of its bite. The pitch and shift of the ship still turned her stomach, but at least now she barely felt a flutter when she looked to the sky and sea. She watched the green specks against the sea slowly grow larger, the tiny chain of forgotten islands she’d only seen on a map until today. The sun was setting, painting the sky a rich gold and sparkling against the churning waves. Now that the gastric repercussions of the view had been put to rest, the beauty of it struck her with its full force, and it was nearly enough to take her breath away.
Gunner walked up to the railing beside her. “Nice to see you aren’t making any more offerings to the sea,” he said, fiddling a bit with the liberated weapon under his arm.
“Look at it, Gunner. How can you help but be awed by it?”
“The Lags? They’re one big cesspool of a place. What’s to be awed about?”
“I mean the view. Do you know how many painters I know who would give their firstborn children to paint a landscape like that?”
“If you wanted to see the world, you shouldn’t have closed your borders. Although I’ll tell you that most of the world isn’t half this pretty when you get up close. And something that’s only pretty from a distance isn’t really pretty at all, is it?”
“Beauty is beauty. It is present at any distance. You just need to learn how to see it.”