Ahab: Retellings

By E.B. Dawson

After a devastating interstellar war against the machines known as Mechanized Intelligence Cruisers, the Commonwealth is ready to return to normal life.

 

Captain Ahab is not.

 

Tired of being paraded around the capital as a war hero, Ahab finally secures a commission to hunt down the last remaining MICs in the outer planets. 

 

He gets more than he bargained for with Moby Dick. 

 

Ahab's first encounter with the massive white MIC leaves Ahab without a ship and without a leg. Plagued by fever during his recuperation, Ahab becomes convinced that Moby Dick is a threat to the Commonwealth's newfound peace. But his willingness to do whatever it takes to destroy the MIC leads his best friend and first mate Starbuck to wonder if their captain is in his right mind. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.B. Dawson
• Release date: Aug 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393045762

E.B. Dawson

E.B. Dawson was born out of time. Raised in the remote regions of a developing nation, traveling to America was as good as traveling thirty years into the future. So, it’s really no wonder that she writes science fiction and fantasy. Her stories acknowledge darkness, but empower and encourage people to keep on fighting, no matter how difficult their circumstances may be. And as an avid philosopher, she infuses her work with Socratic questions. When not writing, she tries to make a difference in the world by showing love and compassion to those most broken.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

2520

Commonwealth Territory

Massa Colony

Navy Headquarters

It was the fifth anniversary since the conclusion of the Great War and the entire Commonwealth was suitably decked out for the festivities, the Admiralty headquarters most of all. Banners hung from colonnades, confetti littered the carpeted floors, and great bouquets and wreaths of flowers shrouded the pedestals and doors.

The citizens of the Commonwealth were equally decked out: the men wearing fine suits and tall hats, the women shining in silks and chiffons with flowers in their hair and pinned to their breasts.

The very sky seemed to rain down flowers and confetti as the great balloons strung across Main Street slowly disintegrated one by one in the heat, unleashing their contents on the eager crowd below. The mood was festive and utterly contagious. What had begun as a mild rash of excitement quickly grew to a city-wide fever by mid-afternoon, and the epicenter was the outdoor amphitheater adjoined to the Naval Administration building.

Concealed in the right wing just offstage from the podium, a solitary figure sat staring at the floor, remarkably immune to whatever emotional contagion had infected the crowd. His dark brown hair was trimmed according to military standards, though perhaps a little long on the top. The shadow of a beard covered his chin. He wore a captain’s uniform, so clean and crisp it might have just come off the press. Perhaps that was also the reason he kept tugging on the collar with two fingers.

In short, everything about his outward appearance spoke of adherence to duty and regulation, yet somehow his piercing blue eyes screamed rebellion. Ahab Fortuna was not an actor, which was why he had been instructed to wait in the wings until he was called for.

Just outside on the podium, several speakers droned through carefully orchestrated speeches, the rise and fall of their voices calculated to draw out the reactions of the audience. Ahab could track the progress of the speeches by those tones. He knew that the Speaker always slowed down and dropped his voice when describing the darkest days of the war, then quickly rushed on to recount the victory with rising levels of excitement. The crowd responded in equal measure, waking from a somber hush to thunderous applause. In five years, the war had been reduced to a ten-minute melodrama, acted out for the citizens who had bought exemption from it with their wealth and influence.

An aide ducked around the curtain to give Ahab his cue, but he had already recognized the intonation that always led up to his part. It triggered a familiar discomfort in his stomach. He stood obediently, his muscles tensing with sudden fatigue, and followed the aide out onto the stage. The crowd cheered riotously as the Speaker pinned a medal on him for the hundredth time. Ahab accepted it with a stiff, brooding rigidity that seemed to please the crowd when they were only exposed to it for a few minutes. Then he retreated off the stage, his duties fulfilled until the state dinner that evening.

He stormed through the back halls of Naval Administration with single-minded purpose, followed by the disgruntled aide who was responsible for his ceremony uniform. A few minutes later when Ahab slipped out the back service entry into the streets, he wore only a tunic and trousers, the simple wardrobe of the average sailor.

The roar from the crowd could be heard from the other side of the massive stone building, but the streets back here were quiet and empty, just the way Ahab preferred them. He had about two hours before he had to re-don the loathed white uniform for the officious State dinner. It should give him enough time for his errand.

He caught a trolley and sat himself in the far corner, though there were no other occupants to disturb him. The trolley zipped through the clean white buildings of Upper Town. It was a good twenty minutes before they passed into the cramped, rundown streets of Middleton. By then the bright blue skies of Massa Colony had dimmed to a dark blue, freckled with the light of the waking stars. Ahab counted them as they appeared, whispering the names of the dead with each new appearance, his attention only disrupted by the automated stop at his destination.

He hopped off the trolley and made his way back up the street about a block. The streetlamps were just flickering to life under the hands of a disheveled brigade of lamplighters.

Middleton had electricity, of course. Reverting to gas lamps had been an initiative by the government to create jobs and stem the homelessness that had risen after the war. Ahab couldn’t help but be irritated by it.

Creating unskilled jobs did little to actually help the returned soldiers integrate into society. They were intelligent men who needed to be challenged, not pandered to. The common inability to focus and struggle to maintain other jobs was an after effect of the constantly shifting adrenaline levels of the battlefield. He saw it in himself but would not allow it to manifest. The war may be over, but his duty to set an example for his men never would be.

Ahab skipped up the steps of a brick building and pulled the bell. The landlady knew him well, but still hesitated with the door.

I am sorry to call at this hour, Ahab said gruffly, but I have been detained all day with official duty.

She glanced up and down at him, her eyes lingering on his scar as they always did, then timidly propped the door open. He brushed by her with a courteous nod, reading her fear of him as disdain. It was not in his nature to fear any man and so he found it a difficult emotion to identify in others. He knew his way well enough and did not wait for her to lead him.

It was a comfortable little tenement building by Middleton standards. About a dozen furnished rooms in total, any sparsity made up for by meticulous cleanliness. Ahab made his way to the back corner of the first floor, rapped respectfully on the door, and then entered.

Night had already fully fallen inside, and no lights had been lit. Ahab switched on the small lamp beside the door and a grizzled old man propped up in a reclining chair started awake. His face was disfigured with scars, one pant leg empty at the knee, and both of his arms ended in stumps. Captain Lowell had always seemed larger than life to Ahab, yet in his reclining chair he appeared surprisingly small.

Ahab, m’boy…is it dawn or dusk? the old man asked in a husky voice.

I do not think your landlady would have let me in at dawn, Ahab replied.

True enough. Lowell coughed painfully. She runs a tight ship, that’s certain.

If evil deeds restricted themselves to the dark hours, the world would be a much less fearsome place, Ahab retorted.

We all find our own ways to keep the demons at bay, do we not? the old man asked knowingly. Do not judge the woman for being ignorant of the evils you chose to face willingly.

Ahab clenched his teeth, duly chastened.

I’ll reckon you did not come to hear lectures from me, Lowell said, suddenly self-conscious. You’d better come and have a seat.

Ahab crossed to the kitchen and picked up a waiting tray. I’m sure I’d be a better man if I did. He seated himself beside his former captain and began spoon feeding him the waiting chowder.

Captain Lowell accepted the service humbly but watched Ahab with sharp eyes. Twas not me they were honoring today.

If there were any justice in this world, it would have been, Ahab replied sharply.

They honor the uniform, Lowell conceded, and you look a sight better in it than I.

Ahab’s jaw clenched in disagreement, but he held his tongue.

Captain Lowell spoke again between bites. In truth I hardly expected to see you today. Have the gentry tired of parading you around their cocktail parties?

Ahab pursed his lips. I am due back shortly.

Ah. Captain Lowell nodded. That is an honor I do not envy you and perhaps the only true blessing of being reduced to this state.

Ahab did not know how to answer and so he said nothing.

Do you pity me, Lieutenant? Lowell asked sharply.

No, sir, Ahab replied, dropping his eyes in confusion.

You despise me, then, for having to depend on others for my daily needs.

Ahab’s eyes snapped up again to meet his captain’s. Through no fault of your own. If I had been the officer of that watch, it would have been me and not you.

Ah, Captain Lowell nodded in understanding. Guilt.

Ahab’s eyes flickered down again.

It’s a destructive emotion, lad. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Then what would you recommend? Ahab asked quickly. The sarcasm in his tone could not entirely mask its earnest core.

Captain Lowell studied the younger man’s face for a few long seconds. I will not tell you what to feel…but I will advise you to chart a course that puts your talents and ambition to better use.

Ahab swallowed and sat back in his chair. It seems my talents and ambition were only useful during the war.

Are there not still ships in need of captains? Lowell asked. It is the nature of man to fight his enemies. If none are readily available, he will create them for himself. I fear if you stick around here much longer, you will forget who the real Enemy is…who did this to us in the first place. Lowell raised his stubby arms.

Ahab’s eyes turned dark. If you think I will ever forget that, then you don’t know me at all.

It was with a reluctant heart that Ahab left Captain Lowell and returned to Uptown. He found a very anxious aide waiting to help him back into his starched uniform and hustle him off to Curraway Mansion. Only Ahab was not in the habit of quickening his step for any man who was not in mortal danger and his sharp blue eyes showed it. By the time they had alighted from the electric carriage under the gilded overhang, the aide nearly collapsed from heart palpitations. Ahab strode icily up the carpeted stairs and through the front doors as if it had been his idea in the first place.

The great ballroom was packed with suits and gowns, silk, lace, and chandeliers. It was a sight that would dazzle the eyes of anyone but the cool ladies and gentlemen actually invited, who found it fashionable to be generally unimpressed with everyone and everything. Yet all eyes turned to the young, dark captain when he entered the room. Perhaps it was the scar down the side of his cheek and neck that sparked their curiosity. Perhaps it was his utter disregard for pretension. For whatever reason, his reputation as a handsome, aloof man with a dark, mysterious past had preceded him.

Ahab, for his part, had no knowledge of what was said behind his back, and would have cared little if he had. His eyes skipped over the fine faces and furtive glances and sought out the only face he was interested in: Admiral Stockton. He cut a path across the ballroom floor and did little to hide his annoyance when he was apprehended short of his goal by a buxom woman dripping in diamonds.

Captain Ahab, I have told Mr. Massey of Massey Steel about you, and he and his daughter are very eager to meet you.

I’m not sure I’d have anything of interest to say to them.

The woman giggled and touched his arm coquettishly. Captain, you are such a tease! I heard you broke three hearts in Genova last month and you know we don’t like to be outdone in Nanta.

I’d be happy to oblige you in anything else, madam, Ahab said drily, but I’ve seen enough grief in my life to keep me from wishing it on another human being.

The madam put a hand to her chest, overcome with admiration. Ahab gave her a courteous nod and slipped off before she could find her tongue. He spotted his target again and re-charted his course.

Admiral Stockton was busy in conversation, but he turned to Ahab readily enough when the junior officer approached. Ah, Captain. How did the ceremony go this afternoon?

As all ceremonies generally do, Ahab replied. I should like to have a word with you, if you’re willing, sir.

My ears are always open for the fleet’s favorite son. Admiral Stockton clapped a hand on Ahab’s shoulder, and they stepped toward the large glass window, out of earshot of immediate bystanders.

I’d like to request transfer to the Outer Limits.

Admiral Stockton’s eyes flickered. I like an ambitious young man. But you’ve had plenty of field experience and nobody can question your courage. Believe it or not, your best chance at advancement isn’t the Outer Limits, it’s right here.

I appreciate the advice, sir. It’s not advancement I’m interested in.

Stockton squinted his eyes. And what is it you are after, exactly, son?

I swore an oath to protect the Commonwealth from our enemies. As long as there are MIC strags out there, it’s my duty to hunt them down.

It’s grunt work. This is where the connections are.

I’d like to request transfer all the same.

Stockton was still hesitant. You’re a popular attraction around here these days. I’m not sure Uptown society is ready to give you up.

They’ll find something else to do with their time, and if the Navy is looking for another hero, there are plenty better than I. I left one just an hour ago.

That honor of yours doesn’t shine so brightly when you use it to disrespect your superiors, Stockton warned.

Honor would mean little if it was subject to the whims of others, Ahab retorted.

You have a great deal to learn yet.

Then let me learn it in the Outer Limits. I will feel useful and you will be spared the discomfort and embarrassment that my honor might otherwise cause.

Admiral Stockton’s eyes had turned hard. I will grant your request, Captain, because I know how foolhardy it would be to keep you here. But I sincerely hope you may learn wisdom before the Void takes you. Passion and talent like yours weren’t meant to be wasted.

And the Machines were never meant to grow sentient. I assure you, Admiral, that a lot more has been wasted than my talent and passion. Ahab glanced about him meaningfully, touched his forehead, and retreated.

CHAPTER 2

In the three weeks since his talk with the admiral, Ahab had slept little. There was a great deal to do to prepare a ship for launch, and his heart had not been so completely set on anything in all his wretched time here in Nanta. His transfer had been announced on the wireless with pomp and circumstance, but his invitations to society gatherings had ceased. Whether this was out of respect for him and the duties he needed to attend to before launch, or the Navy’s desire to transition him out of the spotlight for fear of their reputation, Ahab was not sure. He suspected the latter, and almost approved of them for it. It didn’t take long before his attention was entirely taken up with his new vessel.

The Starship Essex had been assigned to him. A fine warship, if not the newest in the fleet, then perhaps the most reliable. It had been in dock for the last six months for a refit after being caught in a particularly bad ion storm. During the war it would have been sent out again within the month. But the shipyards had been understocked and understaffed these last few years as resources were funneled toward urban development. Much of the Navy in general disapproved, Ahab more than most. But now he reluctantly acknowledged his fortune in the matter. Had the shipyards been working at peak efficiency, he might not have been granted such a fine ship as the Essex.

He had captained two ships during the war in everything but title. Yet a strange emotion surged through his chest when he first set foot on the Essex. His first command had come at the cost of Captain Lowell, and that was hardly something to be celebrated. Nor had he been able to pick his officers or his crew. He had liberty to do both now and the future set before him suddenly made his recent years in Nanta look all the more confining.

The wireless announcement of his new commission did have one negative consequence, entirely unforeseen by Ahab: untrained landsmen applying to sail under his command. He would have just ignored it altogether, but he had to sort through them in order to pick out the good ones, and this caused him considerable frustration. The men he had served with, the ones who had survived the war, had either sworn off the Navy altogether or taken commissions on other ships, compounding his desire to get out sailing. He kept his impatience in check as best he could. It had never been his strong suit.

All