only walking space between, each as long as four Cadillac Eldorados
parked bumper to bumper and as deep as if another four Cadillacs had
been piled on top of them.
The thirty-six cylinders of each block were crowned with a moving forest
of valve stems and con-rod ends, each enormous powerhouse capable of
pouring out eleven thousand usable horsepower.
it was only custom that made it necessary for any visitor, including the
Master, to announce his arrival in the engine room to the Chief
Engineer. Ignoring custom, Nick slipped quietly through the glass
sliding doors, out of the hot burned-oil stench of the engine room into
the cooler and sweeter conditioned air of the control room.
Vin Baker was deep in conversation with one of his electricians, both of
them kneeling before the open doors of one of the tall grey steel
cabinets which housed a teeming mass of coloured cables and transistor
switches. Nick had reached the control console before the Chief
Engineer uncoiled his lanky body from the floor and spun round to face
him.
When Nick was very angry, his lips compressed in a single thin white
line, the thick dark eyebrows seemed to meet above the snapping green
eyes and large slightly beaked nose.
You pulled the over-ride on me/ he accused in a flat, passionless voice
that did not betray his fury. You're governing her out at seventy
percent of power. That's top of the green in my book, Vin Baker told
him.
I'm not running my engines at eighty percent in this sea.
She'll shake the guts out of herself. He paused and the stern was flung
up violently as Warlock crashed over the top of another sea. The
control room shuddered with the vibration of the screws breaking out of
the surface, spinning wildly in the air before they could bite again.
Listen to her, man. You want me to pour on more of it?
She's built to take it. Nothing's built to run that hard, and live in
this sea. I want the over-ride out/ said Nick flatly, indicating the
chrome handle and pointer with which the engineer could cancel the power
settings asked for by the bridge. I don't care when you do it - just as
long as it's any time within the next five seconds., You get out of my
engine room - and go play with your toys. 'All right/ Nick nodded, I'll
do it myself. And he reached for the over-ride gear.
You take your hands off my engines/howled Vin Baker, and picked up the
iron locking handle off the deck. You touch my engines and I'll break
your teeth out of your head, you ice-cold Pommy bastard. Even in his own
anger, Nick blinked at the epithet, When he thought about the blazing
passions and emotions that seethed within him, he nearly laughed aloud.
Ice cold, he thought, so that's how he sees me.
You stupid Bundaberg-swilling galah he said quietly, as he reached for
the over-ride. I don't really care if I have to kill you first, but we
are going to eighty percent! It was Vin Baker's turn to blink behind
his smeared glasses, he had not expected to be insulted in the
colloquial. He dropped the heavy steel handle to the deck. It fell
with a clang.
