Throwback Thursday: ‘The Cropper’s Ball’ by dvsduncan

Joachim straightened and looked out across the works yard. He tried to ignore the gritty wind and the ache in his heart and the sinking feeling that he could not do anything right.  From the top of the Euripides, he could see most of the compound. A dozen other traction engines rose from the crowding stockpiles, storehouses, workshops and machines. Workmen and crew swarmed everywhere. There was chaos, but of an orderly sort, as each vessel was torn apart, rebuilt, and renewed for another year upon the road. Every man and every woman knew what was to be done. Every one of them knew their task. Everyone but Joachim.

He returned his attention to the part he had been trying to install. It hung crookedly at the end of the shaft, refusing to slide down into place. He stared at it and then raised the wrench. His hand shook a little.  He paused for a moment. Then he was hammering at the gear box with all his strength. Each blow made the casing ring like a bell, and that attracted the attention of Karyn Grimm, which was unfortunate.

“What you doing to my engine, boy?” Captain Grimm demanded as she glared at where Joachim was working far above.

Captain was not Karyn’s official rank, but it was an ill-favoured idiot son of a wyrm that pointed it out. The title had been widely adopted by those who commanded traction engines; it was a jealously guarded, if dubious, right that was generally thought to engender respect. Unfortunately, Joachim was feeling less than respectful. He looked down with all the arrogance that adolescence can bestow and pronounced the fateful words, “Fuck the engine!”

The words were ill chosen. 

The boy watched in horror as Karyn scaled the twelve meters between them in as many seconds.