Free Clockwork Twist : Waking by Emily Thompson Page B

motionless to the floor.  The captain and the other two turned to look, but the captain was the first one to move.  He got to his feet and lunged for Twist, who jumped to the side, turning to swing his shovel again.
    “Mr. Twist!” Halil's voice yelled, drawing his attention.
    One of the other men was rushing towards him too, from the side.  Twist spun, striking his attacker and throwing him into the captain.  Both men tumbled away while the last crew member leveled a pistol at Twist from across the bridge.
    The shot rang out like a thunderclap in the metal room.  Twist ducked down just in time and the bullet struck the metal behind him with a spark.  Twist sprang back up instantly, leaping at the shooter with his shovel raised high.  The man backed away, dodging the blow and taking aim again.  Twist jumped quickly to his right, his eyes on the gun.  The shooter followed him and fired again, but Twist fell to the floor on all fours.  The shot rang loudly again, but there was no spark of it striking metal.
    “No!” the shooter yelled, staring over Twist.
    Twist lunged at the gunman's legs with his shovel, throwing him to the ground, before smacking at the side of his head with it.  The man's body went limp on the floor and Twist sprang to his feet, turning.
    “You little British bastard!” the captain yelled at him, gripping at a bleeding bullet wound in his side.  Twist's eyes fell on a brass chain that hung from the captain's pocket, just below the wound.
    “That's my watch!” Twist growled, taking hold of his shovel again.
    In the instant of the captain's confusion, Twist lashed out at his face with the flat of the shovel.  The blow came so fast, from so close, that the captain had no time to dodge it and he too fell to the floor.  The last man stood behind his captain, his eyes wide with shock and his jaw already growing red from Twist's previous attack.
    Twist took a solid grip of this shovel and stretched his neck slightly, pulling his shoulders back, and smiled at him.
    “I'm just a mechanic!” the man said, holding up his hands.
    “Get out,” Twist snapped, nodding at the door.
    “Right,” the man said, hurrying to the hallway.
    The moment the man was out, Halil slammed the door and quickly spun the wheel to lock it closed. “That was amazing!” he said, looking at Twist with wonder.
    “They were all twice your size,” Benny said, his face an image of bewilderment.
    Twist leaned down to pluck his watch from the fallen captain's pocket by the chain.  Seeing it again, he wanted nothing more than to touch it.  But, he knew this wasn't the time.  He dropped his shovel on the floor and slipped the watch it into his pocket, careful to touch nothing but the chain, as he looked over the consoles around the room.
    “If any of them start to wake up, hit them again,” he said, finding a central looking section of the controls.
    “But what are you going to do now?” Benny asked. “We're still under water.”
    Twist took a breath, already feeling the rage and confidence of the steam engine begin to fade from his mind.  He pressed his hands against the brushed metal surface between a lever and a number of small wheels on the console.  Cold, calm, methodical, mechanical simplicity rushed over him like heavy rain.  It stilled his anger and pride, replacing it with the familiar, unemotional, rhythmic pulse of a complex machine.
    His mind flew over the controls, mechanisms, and a multitude of systems at such a pace that he could hardly keep up with the rush of pure information.  Many small things were wrong—loose welding, leaking valves, rust, age—but in an instant he also knew precisely where the ship was, exactly how deep and how close to port.
    He opened his eyes and crossed the room, turning a wheel fully open, pulling a number of small levers, and then taking a seat in the captain's chair.  A small copper wheel stood just in front of it on an articulated arm.  Twist ran his fingers