Read Lost Republic for Free Online

but we converted to natural gas in 2029.”
    Later, at dinner, Hans sat alone in the corner of the lounge reading about Parsons turbines on his PDD. Like everyone else, he had lost his Your/World connection, but he had over two hundred terabytes of print on his device, more than enough for ten trips across the Atlantic.
    A shadow fell across the screen. Hans looked up and saw the American, Leigh Morrison, standing over him.
    â€œExcuse me, my sister wanted me to ask if you had an outside connection.” Hans’s eyes flicked back to the screen, where Parsons’ experimental speedboat,
Turbinia,
slashed through a slow-moving line of British warships in 1897.
    â€œNo. This is stored data.”
    Leigh sat down. His voice dropped. “I knew you didn’t, but she made me ask.” In a room full of bored, nervous people, Hans seemed to be the only one with something interesting to do.
    â€œWhat are you watching?”
    â€œReading.”
    â€œOh. What are you reading?”
    â€œAbout the history of the nautical turbine.” He spun his notebook PDD around so Leigh could see the screen. Seeing all the lines of printed text made his eyes quickly glaze over.
    â€œAre you into machinery?”
    â€œâ€˜Into—?’ I am not inside machinery.” Leigh laughed and explained his expression. “Yes,” Hans said, “I like anything old.”
    He held up a piece of tableware. “This is from the
Queen Mary 2,
the last of the ocean liners. My parents are dealers in antiques. Since the
Carleton
did not have plates, forks, and things for so many passengers, the company rented these relics from my family.”
    Suddenly the ship’s horn blared a deep bass blast that rattled Bachmann’s antique plates on every table in the room. Half the passengers present stood up, twisting this way and that to spot the cause of the alarm.
    Someone shouted, “Out there! Look!”
    There was a rush to the starboard side. Sliding doors slammed open, and the passengers surged out.
    It was fully dark and easy to see the lights of the other ship, a big one, and close. Leigh felt Julie slip in close beside him.
    â€œWhat’s up? What’s happening?”
    He didn’t know. It was just another ship cruising through the calm sea. Patchy clouds allowed stars to shine through. The moon had set, so it was not easy to see any detail on the other vessel, just a lot of navigation lights and the black outline of the hull.
    The horn blasted again. The passengers shrank from the punishing wail.
    An officer—not the captain or purser, but a woman with gold stripes on her sleeve—hurried by. Some of the more agitated passengers blocked her path.
    They bombarded her in several languages, but they were all saying, “What’s going on?”
    â€œIt’s all right! We’re sounding the horn to warn off the other ship,” she said. She tried to get by, but some men refused to budge.
    â€œWhy use the horn? Can’t you radio them?” one asked.
    Another said, “Is their radar out?”
    â€œHow close are we?”
    â€œLadies and gentlemen!” Captain Viega appeared, hatless, in his shirtsleeves. “There is no problem. Please return to the dining room. Allow Ms. Señales to go about her duties!”
    Slowly the passengers filed back into the lounge. Trapped by the crowd by the rail, Eleanor Quarrel had been recording everything on her PDD. She was about to turn it off when she caught the captain and Ms. Señales exchanging hushed words in Spanish. She slipped by, avoiding their gaze. Inside the lounge, she quietly shut off the recording app.
    What did they say? Eleanor knew a little Spanish, tourist phrases, but not enough to follow the officers’ urgent conversation.
    The big, well-lit ship drew away from the
Carleton
.
    â€œShe’s moving off,” a man said.
    Danger averted, everyone went back to their tables. The hard questions were