By the following morning, Piper was busy checking on all the traps that had been set. Unfortunately, Winnifred had been sent to assist the engineers in cleaning the flues while the ship was relying on a fortunate change in wind direction, and was therefore unable to lend a hand. There had been a sort of urgency in the way the duty had been suddenly assigned that made Piper wonder how close they were to their destination. Once she had reached the first of the devices in the engine room, she got her first long look at a springtail since her time as a recruit. Suspended about a foot in the air by its back from where it had fallen victim to Azariah's ploy, the diminutive metallic creature cranked its legs to scurry away on a ground it could no longer reach.
Now that it had been sprung, it was much easier to visualize how the trap functioned. A small timer-like device had been set beneath a large magnet. Once the timer had been set to a lengthy amount of time, the ticking noise it had emitted seemed to draw the creatures like moths to a flame. Azariah had mentioned something about them mistaking the noise for members of their kin, and it seemed he had been correct.
Would have been useful at Brackendow. It might be something I can teach Prescott, if I ever get out of here, Piper thought.
It was amusing to think that she had learned something, however small it might be, that Commander Prescott did not already know. To her it had always seemed as if he knew everything and then some. She considered this as she deactivated the large, rectangular magnet and released the sixth of the mechanical mice into the large brass porringer she had requisitioned from the ship's galley. Azariah had once again been explicit in his instruction of the type of container that must be used for this purpose. Unfortunately as he had forgotten the exact name, Piper had been forced to explain to an austere ship's cook that she urgently required a "round-bellied whosiewhatsit", as Azariah had called it.
She decided it best not to inform the galley staff to what purpose their crockery would serve. Peering down at the confused critters, she now understood why Azariah had chosen such a specific container. As they pitter-pattered around, she could see that their little joints were not manufactured to bend with the slope of the bowl. This meant that, though their drill-like teeth were more than capable of boring through the flimsy metal once their jaws were unhinged, they were unable to find a suitable position to do so. As the latest addition to the metallic menagerie, the little springtail Piper had just released made a valiant attempt at escape.
Bounding forward, it attempted to climb the side of the porringer, but quickly realized its plan had been foiled as it slid back towards the bottom. Next, as Piper had observed in all of the others upon their first entry, it craned its neck as low as it could. A sound like a buzzing fly echoed off the sides of the container, and Piper knew that a number of miniscule teeth were whirring in their sockets for a surface they would never reach. It seemed to come to this understanding as well, and just as the five before it had done, seemed to resign itself to whatever fate had in store. She hadn't even had to secure the lid on as she had been warned she might, as none of the rodents had even attempted to leap the distance out.
Observing them more closely, Piper had surmised that they were likely earlier models, and had not been constructed with the capability. It ambled over to the center of the bowl, each of its tiny feet making an audible clicking sound on the surface below. Spinning once in a circle, then twice, it sat back on its haunches with an audible click and looked up into the face of its captor. Piper gazed back inquisitively, and the springtail mimicked the sniffing of its organic model. Cocking its head to the side, it lifted its snout and twitched the several thin wires that acted as whiskers. Piper couldn't help but smirk.
She had noticed that not only were the specimens a variety of different sizes, but that their color patterns differed as well. Three of the springtails were a dull gray hue that might have been silver at one time, when they sat in storefront windows before their activation. Two were a sheen of brownish-red, while the one that now stared at Piper was a piebald mix of this and white. It was difficult for Piper to tell if this design was intentional or a result of wear and tear the creature had experienced from roats spent on the streets of New Albion. She watched as the two small golden bulbs that functioned as eyes mimicked a curious blink at her.
It really was a marvel how lifelike the automata had been made in under a centa of separation from the Regganorian crown. It was proof that the old wartime slogan "Innovation over Ignorance!" from the days of the revolution had held some merit after all. Stretching her arms out before her with a sigh, she mentally prepared herself to examine the very last of the unorthodox traps. Fortunately, the remainder should be in areas that the artificial rodents were unlikely to frequent. Breaking off the staring contest with the small creature, Piper turned at last and exited the office, returning to her navigations within the bowels of the ship.
It had appeared that the infestation had not spread higher than the third deck. This was to be expected, as climbing to the first and second decks meant greater exposure to the elements. Still, it had come as a relief to know that the creatures had not thought to nest within the wheelhouse, where the confines of speaking tubes and phonowave transmitters would make for cozy lodgings. When she had arrived topside to set the trap the day before, Emeline had watched curiously alongside her supervising officer, Sailing Master Kate Ferretti. She was a prim and tight-skinned older woman who, at least from Piper's point-of-view, never stepped more than five feet from the navigation charts.
She had accepted the intrusion with a distracted nod, leaving Piper to discuss with the helmsmen and navigators whether they had been experiencing any difficulties with their equipment. Emeline had flinched with alarm at the mention of the rodents, and denied experiencing any unordinary malfunction with a quick shake of her head. Upon returning to the scene, it seemed as if the crew had not moved an inch in the hours since she had last visited. Officer Ferretti stood over the charts, Emeline sat turning various dials at the communications desk, and the trap sat blissfully empty.
Her visit to the second deck had yielded similar results. Officer Wilkes greeted her with gusto at her return and ensured her that he had not seen hide nor hair of the springtails in the traps she had set around both the gun batteries and the armory. She reflected that the creatures would not possess neither hide nor hair, being automata, but understood his meaning and had no wish to send the portly officer on a long-winded tangent. Only two of the six automata had been recovered from the third deck. One had been likely scrounging around in the spare parts located in storage hold B, while the second had short-circuited and found itself in a boot-loop after attempting to crawl through the desalination pump.
Though the magnet trap had been set near the pump, Piper had located the creature where it had been left after making the mistake of gnawing through a thin pipe containing a flow of salt water. It had seemed this springtail, after being dried and removed from the moist conditions, had revived safe from the odd sparking twitch every now and then. Out of the remaining three of the vermin that had been located on the fourth deck, one had been located in the boiler room, while two had been caught in the same trap in the engine room. After verifying the remaining traps had not been triggered on the bottom two decks, Piper descended to replace the ones that had been in the most vulnerable locations. Fortunately with the reduced pressure and idled engines, the temperature had cooled down so as to only feel like a desert at noon.
This was opposed to the usual standard feeling of having walked onto the surface of the sun. Not so fortunate was the number of engineers who took these less stifling conditions as an opportunity to swamp the engine room with mass inspections. This was to be expected after word had spread of the unique circumstances of the infestation, and it meant that Piper could garner an accurate assessment of the harm done while she wound the timer and stood the tri-legged magnet.
"Nay tha first time I've seen the wee sleekits, though we got lucky. Beasties are quick an' hard ta spot till they've turnt yer engineerin' to pulp n' ribbons." Olivian commented, her back turned to Piper while she focused on her work.
"How bad is the damage?" Piper asked, finishing up with her duty and stepping over to her ward. Olivian's muscular frame blocked most of Piper's view, her sweat-soaked shirt clinging to her back. As she encroached, Piper could see a circular dial encased by glass and surrounded by a bronze metal sticking up from a thin pipe that ran between the engine room and the boilers. Along the midsection of this pipe, a thick swath of cloth had been cut, wrapped, and clamped into place. Despite this, a shrill hiss sounded out from beneath the gag; the pipe refusing to be silenced.
Olivian rapped hard on the glass with two knuckles. Despite her prompting, the needle remained stubbornly at zero.
"This 'ere's 'bout the worst of it," Olivian sighed, "gnawed straight through the pressure line 'fore gettin' caught, gonna hafta throw the gauge cock an' replace it if we've got the right fittings in storage."
Piper observed as the engineer stepped over towards a small circular valve and gave it a few quick turns, listening as the hiss was muffled and finally quieted.
"Is it urgent?" Piper wondered. She was curious about the work performed by the engineers.
Olivian shrugged, wiping a thick forearm across her brow. "Less than ideal, but we can manage. Still got readin's fer the first and third boilers, we can figure the pressure in the second based on that. It'll need ta get done sooner or later, and till then the second 's output shouldn't be strained."
"I'll go have a looksee at the spare parts we've got stocked up. We're 'just bout done down 'ere an' could use a good scrubbin' 'fore supper."
Piper and Olivian turned towards the creaky voice as Azariah stepped into the engine room, covered head to toe in a thick covering of black soot. As he fruitlessly wiped at his hands with an even darker rag, a throng of equally filth-ridden swabs staggered through the corridor that would lead them up to freedom. Olivian accepted the offer with a grateful nod, and after Azariah had verified that Piper had finished up, motioned for her to join him on his return journey with a cock of his head.
Together the pair trudged back up the stairs and through the narrow corridors leading back to Azariah's office. Piper, giving as wide a berth to the soot-laden swab as possible, stayed several feet behind to avoid the worst of the acrid odor emanating from his entire personage. Azariah either didn't notice, or didn't mind.
"Gather a good haul of 'em did you?" He chuckled, still helplessly smothering the grime to and fro across the back of his neck.
"Six in total, though there could still be more," Piper affirmed, "they seem to have confined themselves to the lower levels."
Azariah grunted in a manner that indicated that this did not come as a surprise. He waited several moments before speaking again.
"Gonna hafta find a suitable way o' disposin' of 'em." He stated.
"What is the usual procedure? I am unfamiliar with how it is done out at sea."
"It's quickest an' easiest to drown 'em - throw 'em overboard an' be done with it." Azariah sighed, evidently giving up on cleaning himself for the meantime, balling up the rag and stuffing it into a pocket.
"But?" Piper asked, sensing his hesitation.
"I'm not one fer litterin' or pollutin', least not mor'n what's necessary for the fuctionin' of the ship. Not ta mention, this far out into the Clarimo it could be a danger, should any o' them merfolk catch it. I might hafta come up with another way fer now."
They arrived to Azariah's office, where he pushed through the unlocked door to find Winnifred already perched on the old stool, rubbing at her short, dark hair with a dampened towel. Upon hearing their entry, Winnifred looked up and blinked, rubbing the combination of water and coal dust from her eyes.
"You're free to go an' wash up, missy." Said Azariah.
Winnifred shrugged. Nodding once and pointing towards the large porringer, she replied.
"I wanted to see what they looked like up close."
Azariah, accepting the answer like an ever-patient guardian, strode forward towards the desk. Careful not to lay his hands upon the edges, he leaned over and peered at the creatures, emitting a high-toned whistle.
"Well lookie here! Not enough ta cause a panic but certainly ta cause some damage. We'll leave the traps out a few more nocts just in case, but I doubt with what we've seen that there ain't many more'n this, if any. Great work, the botha ya."
Piper felt a trace of warmth rise up in her chest, allowing herself a respectful nod and "thank you". She stepped behind just close enough to catch another look at the rodents herself. Each of them now stood or sat still, their little heads whirring in their sockets as they looked from face to face and back again.
"They're rather cute." Winnifred said
"Sure are. Brother o' mine caught one on the street when we were lads. They usually ain't programmed to be mean, but I'd keep your hands away if you're fond of the digits." Azariah added the last part just as Winnifred raised hand tentatively above the container, causing her to sheepishly retract it.
"We're going to have to get rid of them." Piper stated plainly.
Winnifred's head turned sharply at once, her mouth curving into a frown. "How so do you mean?"
Piper shrugged. "Azariah said water is the best method. Fries their circuits without risking injury to us I'd imagine. We can't throw them overboard, so we'll have to fill up a bucket and-"
Piper was interrupted by an audible gasp. Her train of thought derailed, she blinked and was taken aback at Winnifred's expression. Her face bore the mixed visage of disgust and horror; bottom lip trembling, she looked as if she was nearly ready to cry. It was a look she had never seen on Winnifred.
"How could you suggest such a thing?" Winnifred asked, aghast. There was something in the way she asked this that turned Piper's stomach into a knot.
"It is part of the job, like any other," Piper tried to sound resolute, but she imagined her voice sounded small, "we've dispatched over a dozen rats since boarding."
Winnifred shook her head, "It is one thing to do it, but another to speak with such casual cruelty."
Piper felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She was working out a reply to the reproach when Azariah stepped in.
"Now now, that's enough o' that! It's unfortunate enough, an' I'd rather not myself, tell ya the truth. This is jus' somethin' that needs be done. We'll cover 'em up this noct an' take care of it come dawn. You two go on an' wash up'n get some rest."
Piper swallowed hard and nodded, resisting the urge to nurse her wounded pride with words. Winnifred, her nose turned downward, nodded meekly and strode out of the office. Piper was very nearly out the door herself when Azariah called out to her.
"Just a moment now, come back an' take another look for me, will ya?"
Her mood spoiled, Piper ignored her irritation and stepped back to the desk and gazed inside at the five pairs of eyes that looked back at her. She didn't know what she was supposed to be looking at, and felt her frustration rise once more like boiling water.
"What exactly am I - ?" She didn't even finish the question before it dawned on her.
Five pairs of eyes …
She felt Azariah watching her.
"How many'd ya say ya found in them traps again?"