Burning Woman and the Ghost Lance

The Kanonsionni port of Ogeechee. January 21, 1993 CY

Ogeechee was not busy, in terms of trade. However, the largest naval port on the Eastern coast of the Hundred Nations teemed with military vessels. The high endurance fleet submarine Guhnage Uktena moved nimbly past the larger warships and took its place at the sub docks.

Sailors and dockworkers stopped to stare at the battle damage to the submarine. Multiple shell impacts had nearly breached the outer hull in several locations, and the conning tower was completely missing. She had clearly been in a fight for her life.

Captain Huyáné and a squad of marines escorted Doctor Tlatlasihuatl up the gangplank to the dock, where a delegation of council elders waited. Along with the prisoner, The Captain handed over a thick envelope.

The Captain saluted and made to return to his ship, one of the women of the council stopped him.

“I must oversee the repairs to the Guhnage Uktena, elder,” he said. “The damage is grave, and my crew will need...”

“We have been told of your contact with the enemy, Captain,” the elder said. “We also know that your prisoner contributed to your victory over an SEOJ frigate, and may have been responsible for sinking another. Is that true?”

Captain Huyáné hesitated. He knew what was coming, and wished once more that he had never plucked that madwoman out of the ocean. However, he also knew that worms could not go back into the same jar, once they had been dispensed.

“Yes, elder. She saved my boat. I don’t know how she did it, but I saw it myself.”

“We will require your testimony before the council at once,” She said. The elder gave a long look to the submarine, seeming to examine the boat’s damages as a surgeon might examine a patient’s wounds, before her gaze returned to the Captain. “This matter is clearly of the greatest national importance. She could become an asset to our cause. Do you understand that, Captain?”

“I understand completely, elder.”

She nodded, then turned with the rest of the elders and left the docks. Matla and her escort of marines followed.

Captain Huyáné sighed, and fell into step with the marines. It was going to be a long night.

Captain Huyáné’s statement. January 21, 1993 CY

“We were running on the surface at a heading of North-by-Northwest through contested territory, 20 miles from the island of Cuba, in the Caribbean Sea, when the aft lookout spotted a plume from a steamship off to starboard, coming from a sheltered bay on the island. I brought up my binoculars and identified the vessel as an SEOJ fast frigate. The Nextiktekuantli, I believe.

“She was attempting to intercept, and I ordered a course change to evade. She fired a shot across our bow while still outside our range, so I knew her guns had reach on us.”

“Why did you not submerge, Captain Huyáné?”

“We were crossing a large reef. The water was too shallow for a dive, and it would take several minutes to reach deeper water.”

“Did you consider surrender, Captain?”

Captain Huyáné looked at the twelve elders seated around him in the chamber. He chose his words carefully.

“My orders made that impossible. The specifics of our mission were to scuttle the boat in order to evade capture, if that seemed likely.

“Also, I had begun to realize the importance of our prisoner. I knew I could not allow the enemy to use her as an asset. Her knowledge was too valuable.

“I ordered the scuttling charges prepared, and the prisoner to be brought up to the bridge under armed guard. I also ordered full speed and directed the helm to alternate the heading in a zigzag pattern to make the ship harder to hit. I hoped to buy enough time for the scuttling charges to be set.”

Captain Huyáné cleared his throat. He looked down at his hands a moment, then back to the penetrating eyes of the council.

“When the prisoner was brought to me, she told me she could modify the engines to give us enough speed to evade the enemy. He seemed both sincere and adamant.”

The Captain looked down at his hands again.

“I knew that I should simply kill her and scuttle the ship, which would have killed me and my crew. I was prepared to do this, and I knew my crew was prepared to die as well. My duty in this matter was clear, and the failure to complete my duty would be seen as an act of cowardice.

“However, by this time I was aware of the capabilities of my prisoner. The risk was great, but the possibility of her success was a gamble I decided to take. The instant I gave my consent, she charged into the engine room and began to give orders. I followed and indicated to my completely stunned crew that they were to follow her instructions. While our engineers made the changes to the coupling and prepared a knife switch to re-direct power, the prisoner connected wires to some kind of jury-rigged electrical amplifier.

“When it was ready, all power from the engine was being used to turn the dynamo at unprecedented speed, which caused the electric motors that drove the screws to run hotter and faster than I have ever seen before. I ordered the opening of all hatches to ventilate the smoke, and I was astonished that the motors did not burn out completely, but we clearly gained speed. By the time we reached open sea the enemy was well out of firing range. I ordered the dive, and, to my astonishment, our speed under battery power was only slightly less than it was on the surface. The batteries were all but drained, but by then we had crossed the thermocline and were safe from discovery.”

Captain Huyáné was silent for a moment, looking at nothing.

“We spent the next several hours on silent watch until I was certain the Nextiktekuantli had moved on, and then returned to the surface to make our way here. That is all.”

The council exchanged doubtful looks as Captain Huyáné was dismissed.

Interrogation of the prisoner. January 22, 1993 CY

“At this point,” said Matla, “my people would be preparing hot irons and an assortment of sharp implements.”

The elder looked uncomfortable. The council had discussed that prospect, and it was still a possibility.

“I can assure you, Doctor,” he said, “we are a civilized society. We do not believe in torture.”

Matla smiled.

“Politicians are such bad liars,” she said. “You have tried before, I’m sure. I know how my people feel about pain, so it would have availed you nothing. Such practices are only used if there is some hope of success.”

“We will need some assurances, however...,”

“Then let me assure you,” said Matla, “I want to help you. I feel no loyalty for my government, and I believe your fight against them is just. I am a woman of conscience, and I can no longer associate myself with an empire that has no regard for human life.”

“Assuming that is true,” said the elder, “then...”

“However,” said Matla quickly, “I mean no disrespect, and without false modesty, my talent is great enough to win this war for you. I am an asset without peer. Which means you have only two choices before you: You can execute me as a political prisoner, which is what my people would do in your situation; or you can give me a laboratory and free reins to work as I see fit. If you chose to thus accommodate me, I shall provide you with inventions and innovations beyond your imagination.”

The elder said nothing, his face impassive.

Matla leaned forward as much as possible against her restraints.

“You are losing this war, elder,” she said quietly. “You are out-gunned and out-manned by an enemy that knows no fear of pain or death, and possesses the greatest capacity for savagery that humankind is capable of expressing. You need my help, and you know it well.”

The elder looked down for a moment, and then met the prisoner’s eyes with a mixture of resentment and resignation. Matla smiled and leaned back in her chair.

“You do know it. Since I have already demonstrated my talent, and my willingness to use it against my own people, what other questions do you need answered?”

“I will bring your request before the council,” said the elder. “While we deliberate, I hope you will find your accommodations satisfactory.”

Matla laughed.

“It is a well upholstered prison cell, to be sure. I was hoping for something better.”

“The guards are for your protection, Doctor,” said the elder. “But, we can make improvements...”

“I apologize, I was merely jesting at your expense. I require no padding or feminine comforts. In fact, I would prefer to sleep in my laboratory, which will be private.”

The elder looked away. There was silence for several minutes before he looked back and nodded. Then he stood, and signaled to the guard to open the door to the cell.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Matla quickly. The elder turned, expecting some outrageous demand.

“Yes?”

“Please let Captain Huyáné know that I managed to catch a glimpse of some of the pressure gauges when I was in his engine room, which is clearly of British manufacture, not Norwegian.”

The elder looked at Matla for a moment, uncomprehending, and then left without another word.