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medicines and equipment. Doctors like Commander Wilde have to rely on herbs and plant extracts to treat ailments. There are tremendously valuable reference books, which enable doctors of the present to be far more effective than the practitioners from the nineteenth century, but there are limitations to what they can achieve these days.

Plastic syringes no longer exist. Innovative technology has led to efficient analgesics which can be administered orally. Plaster casts are back in vogue for broken bones, and dentists do extractions a lot more than they used to. Mind you, people take better care of their teeth nowadays. The idea of using wooden false teeth again has never really caught on.

Part of AuntSylvie’s job is to oversee the medical wing of the Coliseum. She and NurseCathy were fascinated by Commander Wilde’s scientific knowledge and skill. So a sophisticated library has been maintained for the staff within the Coliseum.

AuntSylvie later explains to Walker that Mrs Wilde died of meningitis. While antibiotics like penicillin can be highly effective against many infections, benzylpenicillin sodium is needed to fight meningitis. In the first place, it’s hard to engineer a chemical like that in the local pharmacy. And without intravenous tools, it’s hard to administer it effectively. Even if you can get it circulating in the body it has a fifty fifty chance of finding its way into the cerebrospinal fluid and fighting the infection.

“Thank you for the bio-chemistry lesson,” says Walker!

“Ooh, look at the time,” says Hayley, “I have to dash, it’s time for karate.”

—o—

“Spoons, mate! I’ll get you some! What sort of spoons do you want?”

MaxChaos hasn’t heard the term before, although people like HayWire know exactly what it means. They were both oddballs in their school days, though in very different ways.

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“My dad was a doctor you know,” says Hayley, as she turns to greet the visitors, “he wasn’t a marine, he didn’t deserve to die.”

Walker doesn’t know what to say. Her training has prepared her for discussing death. With adults. She’s done that a few times over the years, compassionately consoling bereaved families, but she’s never before had to have a conversation about death with an eight year old.

AuntSylvie has. She’s done it a few times. She knows Hayley’s story, because she’s been through it a number of times before. The best thing Walker can do is stay calm, let AuntSylvie manage the dialogue, add in a sympathetic smile from time to time, and a demur “yes” or “I know” or “uh huh” when the youngster is looking for reassurance.

Commander Wilde was Sylvie’s younger brother, so even though everybody at the Noble Coliseum calls her “Auntie” or “AuntSylvie”, she is Hayley’s authentic aunt.

In a very pragmatic, mature, matter of fact voice, Hayley continues. She doesn’t sound like the average eight year old.

“My grandfather was a marine. And my great grandfather too. He was the captain of The Celestial Empress when they won the Battle of Fflint.”

“Dad didn’t want people to die. He wanted them to live. That’s why he became a doctor.”

A tear begins to well up in Hayley’s eye. AuntSylvie’s too. Walker is one step ahead of them both. She raises a plain, white handkerchief to her face to catch the tears which have already started.

“He couldn’t save mum though! Mum didn’t have a serious injury. Mum had a serious illness.”

Spontaneously, all three of them allow the tears to flow. AuntSylvie takes Hayley in her arms, and strokes her hair gently. After a few moments to let the highly charged emotions subside a little, she says, “my mouth’s feeling dry, I need some tea, and a biscuit, who wants a chocolate chip cookie?”

Modern medicine has gone full circle and has returned to its roots. Long gone are the days of commercially available

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But Walker is already transfixed by the next picture on the wall, a detailed watercolour painting of a wolf’s face.

This wolf has a large patch of lighter fur on its face, particularly on its nose. It has one copper coloured eye and one blue eye, the mythical first SlenderWolf. None of the children has ever seen a wolf, let alone the mythical SlenderWolf, although the stories are told in the picture books they have at school.

Most of the inspiration for the pictures on the walls of the Coliseum comes from books. Sometimes the children can go out into the countryside for proper organised days out, but spotting wildlife isn’t easy. The nearest they’ve been to a real wolf is the grubby old wolfskin that Benet wears.

On her own in the art room, Hayley is engrossed with her work, and at first she doesn’t realise that she’s no longer alone.

“Don’t invade her personal space,” says AuntSylvie as they quietly approach Hayley’s table.

Hayley has heard them and knows that they’re there, but they don’t know that she knows! She’s in the middle of some beautiful artistic creation.

Among the various bathtub drawings spread across the table, some more complete than others, Hayley is now working on the outline of a large warship. She’s carefully using the flat edge of the lead of her pencil to lightly sketch the form of the sails of the mizzenmast. The ship is travelling away from the observer, the mainmast and the foremast are currently no more than fine pencil lines awaiting completion.

However, the poop deck stands out clearly and the stern of the ship is very detailed. Below the poop deck the captain’s cabin has been drawn carefully. The window frames are formed of ornate spiralling wooden posts encasing elaborate “chocolate block” arrangements of panes of glass.

The windows of the cabins on each side of the captain’s quarters have also been completed with meticulous detail. The drawing resembles the newly launched ship The Vorpal Sword. Equally, it could be The Regal Shield, another Corvette class man-o-war.

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Chapter 19
Innovative Technology

“Hayley’s in the art room,” says AuntSylvie, “she’s been drawing some magnificent pictures of the bathtub regatta”.

She and Walker amble slowly down the corridor, looking at the children’s paintings on the wall. The current theme is wildlife, a wild rabbit nibbling some grass, a smallholding with a few goats at play, a majestic stag on the edge of an autumnal forest with well proportioned trees and accurate colours depicting the deciduous and evergreen trees.

The tour of the gallery comes to an abrupt halt.

Cheerfully, bouncing up the corridor towards them, comes FullyCharged, “look, look, that’s my falcon,” he says, pointing to a detailed pencil sketch fixed to the wall.

“We saw it at archery practice last week, it took me hours to draw this.”

His proud falcon stares out at them with eyes that seem to follow people around the room. The eyes are piercingly good. Unfortunately, not everything about the sketch is well drawn. Miraculously the falcon, with one leg shorter than the other, still manages to balance correctly on its perch.

FullyCharged is the sort of small boy who seems to operate in only one of two possible modes, either absolute handful, or completely asleep. The staff nicknamed him FullyCharged, because that’s completely in character with the way that he charges around the place! A normal walking pace seems to be out of the question. The nickname FullyCharged also seemed a kinder option than calling him SugarOverdose which is what somebody had suggested!

Both aged six at the time, FullyCharged and Hayley arrived at the Noble Coliseum on the same day, and for the same reason. In spite of their completely different personalities, they became friends instantly.

AuntSylvie and Walker both praise FullyCharged, “what a marvellous picture, and so skilfully drawn”.

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“Your heart’s in the right place you know. Loyalty and fighting spirit count for a lot. Loyalty to this community. You’re not a law breaker. You’d fit in better than some of the marines they already have!”

MaxChaos realises that Walker is being serious. They look at each other silently. Then at HayWire, who’s feeling uncomfortable, and he just shrugs. Then Walker adds, “it’s all about safety you know, self defence, Wolfies are not the aggressors, we just need to be sure that honest, law abiding people like us are protected from others that might do us harm.”

Walker finishes her coffee and puts three pennies down on the table.

“The Garrison and the Constabulary are all one and the same really. Two different divisions of the same government department. I can put in a good word for you if you ever change your mind. Gotta dash, I heard Hayley Wilde was a bit overcome with grief this afternoon, I need to drop by the Coliseum anyway. Several reasons!”

Once Walker has left the café, MaxChaos turns to HayWire and asks, “if we’re never going to attack anybody, we don’t actually need a Garrison do we?”

HayWire’s brain is already a bit frazzled following Walker’s extraordinarily direct and pointed conversation. HayWire had wanted to chat all about ideas for innovating new armaments, not about employment opportunities! And his new innovative ideas mean that he wants to get hold of something explosive. For the best of reasons of course. Nothing sinister! But being HayWire he knows that he can’t just go around asking random people for stuff that goes bang!

Impatiently, MaxChaos repeats the question, “we don’t actually need a Garrison do we?”

HayWire hesitates, snaps out of his day dream, and then responds, “yes and no, it’s not as simple as that. And I don’t have enough spoons right now.”

He stands up to leave, “don’t worry, I’ll explain later.”

Confused, MaxChaos glances at the teaspoons on the table and watches HayWire depart. He thinks, “spoons?”

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He has chests stuffed full of junk. And bone. He’s made friends with one of the middle men near the abattoir and can get calibre bone at knock down prices before it ends up on the commercial markets. He can’t get gunpowder though. Nor sulphur. He’s not a master engineer, just an apprentice, and in any case, even if he was a GuildMaster why would a watchmaker be trying to buy explosives?

HayWire thinks that MaxChaos might be the route to follow, because he knows some questionable characters, and he’s more likely to find opportunities on the black market. HayWire sometimes feels uncomfortable around normal people, let alone the shady types who live down by the docks.

“Are you two talking about gunpowder again?” says Constable Walker as she draws up a chair to their table. She calls Julia over and asks her for a nice strong coffee, then smiles at the youngsters.

“I thought I’d find you in here.”

“HayWire, what happened to your face?” asks Walker as she notices a bruise developing just below his left eye.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, “I walked into a door again! Sometimes my mind’s on other things and I’m not looking where I’m going.”

Walker’s not sure that she could help in this sort of situation, and she does one of her half smiles. She assumes it’s merely a fact of life, given HayWire’s neurodivergent nature. Then she turns to MaxChaos.

“I wanted to catch up with you Max, and say two things. Firstly, you did a great job with the regatta earlier today. And more importantly, you’re the talk of the Garrison having disabled The Frumious Bandersnatch the way you did. Have you ever thought about joining the Garrison?”

With a look of incredulity, MaxChaos summons up the most diplomatic language he can muster and looks Walker in the eye.

“I’ve got a diploma of sod all,” he says, “and anyway, I’m still too much of a rebel, I wouldn’t fit in, I couldn’t cope with being told what to do all the time.”

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revolutionary that nobody would even dare think about attacking us again.”

“Yes mate! Right now I rather have a chat with Genghis Khan and get my bow and arrow problem sorted. What did he do?”

“The short bow!”

“You’re joking! That’s been tried, long bows scaled down to short bows, and they just don’t work. Either they have no power, or they’re too inflexible to draw properly.”

“Better known as the Mongol bow,” says Haywire, “and suitable for use on horseback. The Garrison has some already, but you were on a merchant navy ship. Anyway, making a composite bow like the Mongol bow takes months not days. And you need to bond wood with bone. That’s tricky, especially with the bones we get from sheep, or goats, or deer.”

HayWire finished school two years ago, and is on the verge of completing his two year probation at Harrison Time Pieces. The probation will determine if he completes the standard five year apprenticeship track as a regular watchmaker, or follows the Harrison Research Institute track to a Diplôme Supérieur. That’s something that only 5% of the workforce achieves. It’s worth aiming for, because only the best engineers get to work on precision instrument design for the medical service, the ship builders, and the power companies.

At eighteen years old HayWire is two years younger than MaxChaos, but he’s a savant when it comes to engineering. He loves to talk about making things, but he talks about very little else. Social interaction doesn’t come easy to him, though he does get along well with NutJob, and with MaxChaos.

Fascinated by materials in particular, HayWire is interested not only in making better watches and clocks, but in improving anything that’s man made. From fountain pens to wind turbines! And he loves experimenting, mainly by substituting new materials in the unlikeliest of ways. He spends hours in his workshop even when he’s not working, trying out his bizarre new inventions.

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How she wishes that her mum and dad could have been here to see this. She cries a little. The ElderWolf holds her gently and consoles her, as AuntSylvie quickly makes her way onto the stage to comfort her.

The bathtub regatta has been a military tradition for as long as anybody can remember. The merchant navy does it too, but the flotation ceremonies for the new, big warships attract more attention and attract more bathtubs!

AuntSylvie stays with Hayley whilst a number of people seek to congratulate her on her professional conduct. Though right now she’s feeling quite emotional. Her father was a doctor, Commander Wilde, a member of the Garrison. However, as the ship’s surgeon on The Regal Shield he was not a combatant.

When The Regal Shield was lost at sea two years ago, none of the crew survived.

Although The Vorpal Sword can be launched today, there can be no replacement for Commander Wilde. AuntSylvie spirits Hayley away. When the need arises the Noble Coliseum can be a welcome place of sanctuary.

—o—

            “You know, there was a time when all you needed was to be a strong man, on a strong horse, and have a strong sword,” says HayWire, “you know what happened to them?”

MaxChaos listens intently.

“Somebody invented gunpowder! And then cannons. It didn’t matter how strong you were. Or your sword, or your horse! You were no match for cannon balls. What we need now is another paradigm shift. Something as significant as gunpowder.”

“What I need now,” says MaxChaos, “is something like a long bow, but smaller, and well suited to use on a ship when I’m fighting pirates!”

“That’s easy,” says HayWire, “Genghis Khan solved that problem! What I’m interested in is building something so

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waving as they jump up and down. Everyone is totally absorbed by this colourful festival of hilarity.

Given that there is a distressingly trivial first prize at stake, the rowers in the leading bathtubs seem unduly determined to win!

“What’s that?” says OpenMike, “a secret weapon?”

Each of the bananas has pulled out a ripe banana from the top pocket of their denim dungarees, waved them in the air for all to see, and now they’re eating them!

“A sugar boost! Is that allowed?”

“Fowl Vengeance” is still ahead, but “Despicable Kevin” is gaining on them in the final 50 metres. The crowd is going wild. NutJob is doing his nut and KristalClear is almost hoarse with all that shouting! Urged on by young Hayley, the ElderWolf has now entered fully into the spirit of the event, though with all the noise nobody can hear a word either of them is saying, nor work out who they’re actually supporting!

“Despicable Kevin or Fowl Vengeance, who crossed the line first?” asks OpenMike.

A short discussion ensues among the judges. Hayley’s not sure who won. Nor is she sure which team she actually wanted to win. The bathtubs were glorious, the fancy dress costumes inspired, the antics adorable, and she loved them all.

When asked, the ElderWolf explains that her own personal preference doesn’t matter, she has to be impartial. Being the model of a perfect leader, the ElderWolf agrees that it was a tie.

Wisely, extra laurel wreaths have been laid on just in case. OpenMike announces the winning entries, and the four sailors climb the stairs onto the dais. The Stump from Jackanory Square was brought to the quayside earlier this morning. It now takes centre stage with Hayley standing proudly on top of it.

Each sailor receives their prize. Hayley places a laurel wreath on their heads and hands each of them a small cup cake which Franklin had baked earlier in the day. Hayley receives a friendly, sincere hug from each sailor in turn.

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quayside OpenMike has heard the hammer whack the gong, and he encourages the crowd to start the countdown.

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

The shipborne cannon fires.

One man and his dog (one man with a fake bald head and a stupid, old fashioned, sleeveless, green sweater, alongside his khaki coloured “dog” with preposterously big, floppy brown ears and a massive, fake black nose) furiously paddle their bathtub “Fowl Vengeance” into an early lead.

It’s clear that the Gatchaman Super Hero lookalikes, paddling “The Jubjub Tub” are in second place, followed closely by two puffins doing their best to make “The Puffin” bathtub move as fast as its namesake The Puffin ferry.

This is the craziest sight anyone has ever seen in Lancaster harbour! The crowd on the quayside are cheering so loudly that nobody can hear what OpenMike is saying. It’s the same aboard The Vorpal Sword with everybody, MaxChaos included, cheering on their favourites.

By the halfway stage the two Vikings in “The Do Drop Inn” do drop in to the sea, and the suspicion is that the sharks in “The Hammerhead” may have had something to do with that.

The Super Heroes’ “Jubjub Tub” is putting in a heroic effort, but it seems to be taking on water. They’ve slowed down, and that’s allowed the “The Puffin” to overtake them. Amazingly the bananas piloting “Despicable Kevin” are gaining on the two leading vessels.

The puffins are now puffing and panting as their muscles tire, and their bathtub is definitely slowing down. “Fowl Vengeance” still looks like it’s going to take first place, and at this hotly contested stage of the race there now appears to be only two teams in contention. The banana pair, and one man and his “dog”.

MaxChaos and OpenMike are valiantly trying to turn up the volume, but they can’t be heard above the crowds. The onlookers are shouting at the tops of their voices, and furiously

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