The Story of the Mimosa

The Story of the Mimosa

by

Paul Kater

Published by the author as a member of the

Alexandria Publishing Group

Smashwords Edition

The Story of the Mimosa - © Copyright 2013 Paul Kater

Cover art by Renée Barratt - http://www.thecovercounts.com

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This is a work of fiction, and as a work of fiction, any resemblance to people, places or things is entirely accidental. The creation of certain buildings and locations is entirely the work of the author to avoid conflict and comparison with existing structures

License Notes - Smashwords Edition

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Why I wrote this book

In book 6 of the Hilda the Wicked Witch series, Hilda - Lycadea, I introduced a ship. A black sailing ship called the Mimosa, that sails through space and time. It has red sails and a large crystal on its bow. The captain is a man from Italy from around 1965, and his 'first officer' is a lady from Oz, born in the 924th year after the Great Turnaround. Fans of Hilda asked me how this ship came to be and so here's its story. The Story of the Mimosa.

Acknowledgements

Thank you again, Carol, you're my pro in picking out the misfits of typing!

Dedication

This book is for my mother, who loved to laugh and made me love books. Without her I might never have gotten into writing. Thank you, Mum, wherever you are now.

Jump to contents.

1. Builder talk

Budak lap lop nignap sok yep? (So what are you going to do with all that black wood you have recently purchased from the man whose only claim to fame is that he rips everyone off?) The nine foot tall, broad-chested man turned to the somewhat less broad-chested but half a foot taller specimen of his race next to him, who proudly inspected the load of wooden beams that had just been delivered to his yard.

Bibip wop lop daap. Gim sallo wadda yem. (You know I have this plan to build a ship, and finally I have the proper wood to build a sturdy and good one.)

Wop lop daap sok flap? Skippip! (You seriously plan to build a ship from black wood? You'll have a black ship! You must be out of your freaking mind!)

Gip quop wop lop nigh trek tod wem! (I know!)

The two discussed the taller man's plan a bit more as they walked around the considerable amount of wood. The smaller one, Jarm, declared his friend insane. You'll be the laughing stock of the fleet, you know that. No one wants a black ship. Do you have any common sense left, Kray? You can hardly see a black ship when it's in space! Space is black too!

Kray shrugged. The wood is good and it was cheap. I can add a bunch of lights to make it clearly visible.

Still I think you consider this too lightly, my kikowapolorofan. (Friend.) Jarm shook his head, his wild manes jumping around while the metal beads in them clanged together. But I have promised to help you with this thing and so I shall. He held out one of his hands. Kray took and shook it.

Thank you, Jarm. I am convinced this ship will be a big success and bring us a good price once it is built.

Let's first focus on that thing. The building. Do you have a design for the ship already?

As the two men walked off, Kray started talking about the plans he already had at his house...

***

It was nearly dark when a big Dragooner class heavy-cargo pick-up ship floated into view of anyone that was still at the wood-yard. This meant that no one saw it, which was exactly the intention of the people on the Dragooner. Several men dropped down lines and used those to slide to the ground. Once there they gestured up to their shipmates who looked down through their trinoculars (binoculars for species with three eyes) to get the Dragooner in position. The men on the ground and those on board the pick-up ship were very experienced, so within an hour the entire load of black wood was lifted up, stowed inside the enormous ship and the ground crew was hoisted up again as they held on to the lines that they had descended on.

The ship's captain was satisfied. Well done, lads. Nice work, and quick too. There's rain coming and wet wood is far heavier.

The women that were part of the group of lads ignored the lack of mention of their gender. They had gotten used to it. For some weird reason it was, they knew, difficult for people not of their race to tell the difference between their women and their men. The ground crew was dismissed as the captain barked his orders to the navigator and the helmsman, to take the Dragooner out of the area. After all, we don't know when these people come back, and this compound is equipped with nasty cannons and other things to bring down ships even bigger than this one.

Stately and without being hindered by anything the ship of the wood-thieves sailed away, seen only by creatures who could not care less about what happened there. Ships like those usually meant bad news for anyone a bit too nosey.

The captain rubbed several of his hands, pleased that this assignment had gone so well. He'd seen many a job that had gone wrong because of bad information from the people that employed him and his ship. This one would make a nice profit as he intended to make the robbery sound a lot more difficult than it had been. A few of the crew had already prepared video-reels with heavy fighting and cannon fire as proof. During a stop somewhere over deserted land, a bunch of crewmen would paint the actual damage onto the hull, so the customer could verify that the ship had indeed taken fire. The ship would not land and was quite dirty so images like that looked convincing quite quickly.

The journey to where the black wood had to be delivered went fast, the paint job was done equally fast (experience made this very easy), and the captain was soon on the ground, haggling with his customer about the wood and the allegedly sustained damage, squeezing as many credits from the man as he could without becoming physical. After the credits had been transferred and approved by several official banking committees (which took a while, never to the pleasure of the captain), the wood was unloaded in the place where the new owner of the cargo intended to build a ship from it.

Soon the captain was aboard the Dragooner, and the impressive pirates' vessel was on its way to clean off the painted damage and after that locate a new customer that was looking for the specific services the captain and his crew offered.

The new owner of the black wood, Blokman Rufer, was satisfied about the transaction. Not only had he gotten rid of a lot of credits that he had acquired in dubious arrangements, the wood was also exactly the proper shade of black that he had hoped for.

His master shipbuilder came by the next day and rubbed several of his stubbly chins. Looks good to me. Can make a nice lil' ship, sir. Want us to start today?

Blokman held back a sigh. That would be good, yes. Although starting yesterday would be better.

The master shipbuilder frowned and slowly nodded. Not sure about that, but I'll see what I can do for you, sir. As he slouched off, Blokman shook his head. The shipbuilder was good at building ships, but the rest of him carried the air of being utterly useless. Despite all that, the shipbuilder arrived in the afternoon with his crew, flying along in five beautiful and spotless transport-shuttles designed for wood-moving. The black wood was loaded and then transported to the mill where the beams were sorted, cleaned, weighed, sorted again, cut, cleaned once more and in the end sorted for the last time, after which they were counted.

The whole load is according to specs, the owner of the mill assured the master shipbuilder. We made it the way we did the last nine, so you can have your people quickly stick it together, and then sit on it for a month so you can charge a bit more before you deliver it.

The shipbuilder nodded, not certain if a few more credits was worth camping out on a new ship for a month. It'll be fine, he said as he approved the payment for the miller's work. All the wooden parts were loaded in the transport shuttles again and moved to the actual building site close to the water.

The men he employed were lounging around until all the wood was off-loaded. Then two of them pulled up a small console, punched a few buttons and waited for the machinery to collect and sort all the wooden parts. Slowly the stacks of wood were picked up and taken away in metal arms and hands, and four hours later the ship was taking shape.

Boss, already know the name of the thing? one of the men in the chairs asked the master shipbuilder.

No idea, was the reply.

Funny name for a boat, the question-asker said, feeling smart.

The master shipbuilder walked to his employee and lifted him from the chair. You may think that I am not the brightest bulb in the shed, but you are mistaken, buddy. Our client has not yet conveyed the name of this new fine vessel, so I would advise you to keep your jaws together before I take up a mega-stapler and assist you in that. Then he dropped the man in the chair again. Clear?

Uhhuh. The employee did not feel very smart any more.

The master shipbuilder then chuckled as he walked off. "No Idea would really be a funny name for a boat."

You should be more careful around him, a co-console-worker of the unfortunate employee whispered as he held up a maimed hand. I was smart too, one day. He broke most of my fingers, so pushing the buttons is very painful at times. You got off lucky, he must be having a very gentle day.

He may yet live to regret that, another button-pusher added his share of knowledge.

During all that, the shipbuilder stood close to the nearly complete hull of the black ship. It was becoming a mighty fine ship, like the other mighty fine ships that had come out of the production process he had so carefully crafted. The fact that this one was black also made a nice change to the white or wood-coloured ones that most people wanted. The comment of the man he had just given a piece of his mind rang through his head. What would one call a black ship? The shipbuilder was fond of flower in a ship's name, but Black Flower sort of seemed to miss the point as there were no black flowers that he knew of. The next day the proud owner of the boat would come along, they'd have a talk about that.

As the heavy machines picked up the big beams that would make up the ship's deck, the master shipbuilder turned to his employees and told them to go home. There had been enough button-pushing for one day, or probably a week. Competition in the boat building sector was murder.

2. Black Flower

Blokman Rufer was in a good mood. He had received a call from the master shipbuilder that the first viewing of the ship could be done. He had been tempted to take a few people with him (after all it was not every day a man got to see his new boat) but something had urged him to be careful. When he entered the ship yard he knew why. After locating the master shipbuilder, Blokman pointed at the black ship. It looks kind of small. He put enough disappointment in his voice to lower the price of this boat by at least a thousand credits.

That is partially because of the colour, sir. Black absorbs a lot of light, so most of the reflection that normally shows the normal size of the vessel is now unseen. That makes it look smaller.

Partially? What's the other part then? Blokman felt a few hairs in his neck stand up as he noticed he was pushed into the wrong corner. This was not going well. Also the shipbuilder was not his few-words-self today, which was another bad sign.

The other part is a secret ingredient in ship building only known to me. I cannot open up about it of course, but imagine the many docking taxes everywhere that you can save when everyone thinks the ship is smaller than it is! I think that would be worth an extra thousand credits. Of course, if you don't agree that's worth the addition I can take it out again. The shipbuilder felt very pleased with this flow of words, the more so as they seemed to have the desired effect on the customer.

The ship is not finished yet, Blokman carefully responded. Shall we first have a closer look? That would give him time to come up with something to knock at least another two thousand credits off the price. He followed the master shipbuilder into the lift that took them to the ramp that took them to the gangway that took them to the ship. They had to walk the last part, which gave Blokman the first feeble handle on decreasing the agreed price.

As they surveyed the ship, Blokman felt the deck boards fall from under his feet. Not literally, because the actual boards were amazingly sturdy, as was everything about the ship. And exactly that gave him that sinking feeling. So far there was nothing that was not worth the price of the builder, except that walk they had to make over the gangway. He did not bring that up just yet though, in the current state the shipbuilder would find a way to turn that into something good and chase up the price even more.

We can have a look below deck if you want, the shipbuilder offered.

Blokman fumbled a bit with his hat. Yes. We should inspect it all. He had heard the satisfying little click of the micro-camera in his hat which would record every detail of the ship's internals. If worst came to worst, he'd have that information, cancel the order of the ship and see if he could find someone who could do this cheaper, as Blokman himself had the inside information on how to create the ship's drive, something that was shrouded in mystery for most people.

Follow me. The shipbuilder guided Blokman to the aft of the ship, which simply was the rear end to the customer. There was a rather large building on the deck there which looked odd and out of place. The man opened the huge centre doors which gave view to stately, wide stairs going down into the belly of the vessel. Careful, the steps are wider than usual.

Blokman wondered why the man stated the obvious. Going down the awkward steps was hard work. Why are these things so big?

They're for the suit, the shipbuilder lacked explanation.

The suit... The unspoken question marks were ever so clear.

Yes. The shipbuilder grinned. The man had no clue. The suit was going to cost him extra.

At the bottom of the stairs the two men stared into the huge space where complex engines were placed. This is a danger zone, the shipbuilder said. Only skilled people can work here because of the circumstances. Skilled people or maniacs.

Blokman wondered if it was safe to step away from the staircase. The amount of engines in the engine room was staggering, and all the lights blinking on them, the hissing sounds coming from many places as well as the stench and the heat that hit him in the face made his inner person want to turn and run away screaming. Being a gentleman and a trader in illegitimate goods, he could not do this, so he simply nodded and said that he understood exactly why this was a dangerous place before he turned and walked up the odd staircase in as slow a hurried trot as he could manage. The shipbuilder knew he had won. Back on deck, with the door to the engine room closed, the shipbuilder asked if the client was satisfied.

Yes, it is all looking very good. Just that engine room. Are you certain it is safe to use the ship with something like that? Blokman did not even feel safe with the staircase and the door between him and that hissing and puffing arrangement of machinery.

Perfectly safe. I have built many ships and none of them ever had engine trouble, the shipbuilder said. He was right. Some of his ships had been shot at and exploded because of that, some burnt to a crisp getting to close to fiery places, but so far no one had been able to prove a problem with the engines. As for the safety in the engine room, there is a provision for that. We can create a special suit for going inside that space. As I already said, the stairs are prepared for it. The shipbuilder pulled a device with a display from his shirt pocket and switched it on. This is it. It's large, can have a man inside and that man, or woman of course, will be perfectly fine while working there.

I am certain the price of such a device is negotiable, Blokman said. He wanted to save credits, but safety was hard to be cheap on. This ship was meant to go into the smuggling ring and be one of the best and fastest. That was why he wanted this model, he had heard miracles about it. Many of them overdone of course, but when someone like Barning Hollog bragged that his ship of that model had outrun the law, there had to be something to it. The law was not a force to joke about and Barning was not someone prone to joking.

The shipbuilder nodded. Of course. I'll make you a good deal as you strike me as a gentleman of taste and dignity. You can get the suit for a thousand - no, nine hundred credits. That is a substantial discount. Usually the suit was part of the entire deal, but the shipbuilder could not let this one pass by.

That is still a serious amount of credits, Blokman said and not afraid to show his surprise. I did not count on that.

For you... five hundred then?

Blokman knew the builder was not going lower. The stone-like face was set, so he accepted the offer, knowing that he was being taken for some credits, but it was too late to back out of this deal.

Very well. We'll work on the suit as of tomorrow then. No one is here for work today, you see.

Blokman saw no one, so he saw. I hope you allow me a few questions. What is the maximum speed of this ship? I have heard from a friend that this model is very fast, but can you give me an idea of this particular ship?

The master shipbuilder nodded and did some things with the screen on the small tablet in his hand. Here you are. Based on these calculations, which are very conservative, this ship will achieve a maximum of nine hundred gorabs per semi-harp. That threw Blokman. He knew that the ship was fast, but this was amazing. If you want we can install a limiter on the engine, of course. Some people don't like that kind of ship swiftness.

Oh, no need for that. We're not the scared kind, Blokman assured the man. I do wonder how you maintain a layer of breathable air on the deck and in the cabins - which we have not seen yet if I may add.

We're getting to the cabins, sir, even though they're not finished yet. No one here, you see. The air is kept in place by a special component built into the middle mast up there, the big one. It's connected to one of the machines down there which gives it the power to create a cushioning field that hinders the oxygen molecules from dispersing, even when travelling at high speeds.

Blokman thought that over. In short and simple you are saying that it works.

That is what I'm saying.

Very well. The first tests will be the proof of course. The owner of the ship-under-construction was then taken to one of the doors next to the huge ones on the far deck. This led into a nice long corridor with many doors on either side.

Excuse me... is this somehow a trick of the light, or a delusion painted by the pattern in the wood against the wall? This corridor seems much longer than the after section of the ship would allow.

The master shipbuilder gazed down the corridor. Yes. It does, doesn't it? It's the light. In truth he hadn't noticed it before, but keeping this man calm by playing the knowledgeable one was never a bad idea.

They inspected some of the cabins, which were all spacious and had cute little round windows that looked out onto the sea. With the unsettling certainty that the ship was still in the building dock and not in the water, Blokman Rufer asked how this was done. The shipbuilder explained that the portholes were all virtual. You can't open them, and there is a control here in this screw that allows you to select the kind of sea, harbour or island you prefer. You can also load your own preferred images into the ship, from the bridge where we'll go next.

The bridge was barely worth the name yet. It was a large space with an old chair and a lot of wood shavings on the floor.

Not quite ready yet, I see. Blokman wondered where the controls would be but saw nothing of the kind.

Tomorrow, sir. Tomorrow we'll fix it all up. If you can send someone over who will captain the ship, we'll make it to his liking.

To her liking, please, Blokman corrected the shipbuilder, and she'll be here in the morning.

Very good. Have you thought of a name already? For the ship?

A name?

Yessir, a good ship has a good name. I was thinking of 'Black Flower' myself, but it is up to you of course.

Black Flower. Hmm. I thought of Ship One myself. But Black Flower sounds just as good. Why not. Blokman Rufer could really not be bothered by these kinds of insignificant details. I think I have seen enough though. My captain will be here in the morning. Treat her well. You'll see why.

Of course, sir. The master shipbuilder took the customer to the gangway that took them to the ramp that took them to the lift that took them to the ground, and from there the client left the ship yard without further help. That was of course easy, as there were plenty of signs to the exit.

3. The captain

Before he had left the yard the master shipbuilder had sent messages to all his employees, warning them that the captain of the black ship would be a woman. He had ordered them to look their best, wear gloves over any deformed hands, and bloody well be on time. All three had listened well. They looked acceptable, dressed in proper clothes and one even smelled nice. No sooner had all three taken their seat near their small consoles, the porch opened and a Landarian came into the ship yard.

Oh no, was all the shipbuilder could say. Landarians were difficult, short tempered, big, strong, ugly and the genders were impossible to keep apart. This had to be the captain, as well as the worst day of this month.

You the builder? the Landarian asked as the ground had stopped trembling.

I am. You must be the captain.

Yeah. Bridge. Now. The monster pointed at the black ship. Move! She did not wait. As she stomped towards the lift the master shipbuilder ran after her. He feared for the well-being of his material. The lift held, as did the ramp. The gangway moaned precariously as the Landarian walked over it but even that kept its shape and place.

Inside the bridge three robotic units were waiting outside with all the equipment that was standing outside, waiting to go inside. As the builder and the captain entered the bridge the robots moved to the side. Their self-preservation routines were programmed to recognised Landarians. The captain pointed at places and called out the name of the thing she wanted there. Steering, compass, speed, viewer, monitor, chair, maps, library, comms. This went on for a while until the builder wondered where they would put all that stuff. On second thought he wondered if they even had all that stuff.

Got that? the Landarian asked, her stony grey eyes trying to pierce through his head. It felt to him that they made a lot of progress in the process.

The robots recorded it, ehm, ma'am. Best to stay polite with such a thing. The shipbuilder had heard stories of angry Landarians and those were not funny.

Fix it. Done tomorrow. With no further comments or remarks the Landarian beauty stomped out of the cabin that made up the bridge and subsequent shudders told the man that she had found her way off the ship. A loud cracking noise and an even louder thud told the man that the gangway had sped up the Landarian's leaving of the ship. He ran outside and leaned over the side of the proud ship just in time to see the solid captain get up, climb from the lowered floor and then walk toward the porch. One really did not play games with Landarians, so much was obvious.

The robots manoeuvred a spare wooden plank onto the ramp so the master shipbuilder could get off the ship and to the ground again. Once there he ordered his employees to reprogram the robots in order to get the bridge prepared. In the meantime he would make himself useful to design an image that would go on the bow of the ship.

***

The noise inside the bridge-room had ceased since a while already when the shipbuilder appeared with a large sheet of paper. On it was a large black blob which he proudly showed to his employees.

Wa's that? the one who smelled nice asked.

The black flower. It goes on the bow.

Isn't that kinda dumb putting a black flower on a black ship?

I, ehm, plan on making it a different shade of black.

The three in the seats looked at each other and then focussed on their consoles, even though they had nothing to push there. Everything was better than risking to make fun of the boss. He was not Landarian but strong enough to do serious damage to a person. Yeah, you go do that, boss.

As the shipbuilder paced off to the dock, the sheet in hand, he wondered if his employee had a point. Black on black. It sounded like the most amazing thing to do, but... He looked up at the looming hull as he reached it and held up the drawing. He absolutely needed a different kind of black, otherwise this would be a bad idea.

The boss of the ship yard turned and walked back to his employees as he remembered the suit. Did any of you remember to order a suit?

The three men, sitting in their chairs outside the 'office', shook their heads and all said I didn't.

Great. You. Order the suit. The shipbuilder's index finger pointed at the man in the centre seat.

Again? I always have to order the suit! Why can't one of the others do it for a change?

Because you know how to do it properly.

The middle man sighed. I deserve a bonus for this, he muttered as he pressed a button on his console. After a while two lights lit up, one red, one green. He pressed the red one. A decent bonus for that. It's going to be here tomorrow.

His employer looked thoughtful. I think I can arrange something for you. The man was satisfied with his solution for the situation: he'd simply pay the other two a bit less this week. That would take care of the bonus in a fortunate way. As business was slow that day he sent his employees off and withdrew into his office to rethink the colour of the flower.

***

A few days later Blokman Rufer received a call from the ship yard. The vessel was ready and he was asked to come and have a look at it, preferably with the entire crew. That was a positive sign. The credits had already been transferred and he wanted some value for that, value that could only be brought about by putting the ship to good use. With some luck they could take it out of the yard that very day and start doing some serious business.

As the group of eight arrived at the ship yard, there was a nasty surprise. "No, no, you cannot take her out for real yet! We have to do some training on board, you see, so everyone knows how to do things