The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “I should hope so,” Revi tilted his head to the side to pop a stiff spot in his neck. “Wouldn’t pay to have a Time Father who couldn’t keep his Chronometer in check.”

  Nicholai spun around and met Revi’s gaze with haste. The man’s words surprised him, though after a moment he wasn’t sure why. It made sense word would spread once Kazuaki figured it out. “I see the captain told you,” he said, unsure how Revi felt about the situation.

  “He told the whole crew,” Revi crossed the distance of the engine room and grabbed lubricant to bring to the spot Nicholai pointed out earlier. “That’s one thing we like about the captain, no secrets between crew members. So, why did you do it?”

  Puzzlement crossed Nicholai’s face. “Do what? Join the Time Fathers?”

  “No, mate,” Revi lubricated the gears and handed the canister off to Granite after he finished. “Why’d you freeze time in Southeastern?”

  Nicholai grimaced. Even though they no longer lived in Panagea, everyone familiarized themselves with the politics of Time Fathers. “I ...” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. “I needed to buy myself more time,” he admitted, unsure of how much detail he wanted to offer on the circumstances.

  Revi stared at him across the engine room, silent. It made Nicholai uncomfortable. He seemed to contemplate something. The man picked up a rag on the floor and cleaned his hands with it. “Speaking from experience, mate, time rarely ever solves your problems, no matter how much of it you have.”

  It was an ominous message, but it held a sincere undertone. Nicholai studied Revi’s face. “From experience, you say?”

  For a moment, it appeared Revi regretted saying anything. But his eyes lingered on the various gears Nicholai suggested they lubricate. Finally, he said, “Just be sure if you abandon something, you’re ready to let it go. No sense in letting things linger in limbo. It’s a coward’s way out.”

  Hate tinged his voice. Nicholai felt the hatred belonged more to Revi than it did to his situation with Southeastern. Revi continued, “You think you need time, but then you give yourself too much of it. Then it’s too late to go back.”

  The somber words washed over the Time Father. He felt a heaviness in Revi’s words. It wasn’t just because they related to his situation, but because for whatever reason Revi knew the truth behind them, he knew it entirely too well. The man harbored demons, without a doubt. It appeared they were demons created by his own actions. Those were the hardest ones to get rid of. “Thank you, Revi,” Nicholai said. “That’s sound advice.”

  “Yeah, well ...” The man’s voice faded away and his eyes glazed over before he rubbed at his face and shook his head. “Look, if you ever need a hand in these rooms, come look for Granite or me. We’re here if you need an assist.” Revi thumbed to the man beside him, who, for a giant, existed in such quiet it was easy to forget he was there. His dog, however, maintained a steadfast presence for such a small creature. Its ears perked up with excitement as it heard someone down the hallway. The canine was the only one who detected the approach.

  “Everything good in here?” The quartermaster appeared out of nowhere and loomed in the doorway, her posture alert and rigid.

  Revi jumped at her appearance. When he realized it was only Bermuda, he waved his hand at her in a polite dismissal. “Yes, yes, Bermuda. Just showing Nico the ropes here.”

  Granite’s dog jumped on her, then jumped off, then jumped on her again. Bermuda didn’t acknowledge the creature. She caught Nicholai staring at the stump of her wrist again and frowned before turning her attention back to Revi. “Be sure you teach him well. No need for a useless mouth to feed,” she said. Her eyes shifted to Nicholai with skepticism before she turned on her heels and exited with the same quickness in which she appeared.

  “She’s like a feckin’ ghost, the way she sneaks up on you,” Revi muttered after waiting until she was out of earshot. He checked the gauges to be sure the levels remained satisfactory.

  “Revi,” Nicholai trailed off before he turned back to face the man. “May I be so bold as to ask, do you have a room with spare parts? For the engine and boiler room? Pieces you may need in the event of a repair?”

  Revi arched a brow and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure, it’d be suicide if we didn’t. They’re all in the adjacent room, but it’s cluttered with extra garbage from some of Captain Hidataka’s plunders, or just shit on the ship that breaks. Why?”

  “Oh,” Nicholai inhaled and shrugged his shoulders. He smiled at the man to ease his questioning, “you know, just looking to ... make myself useful.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Of all the places on the ship, the captain’s quarters were the quietest. Bartholomew gravitated here often. Kazuaki did not always permit him, but he was fair in sharing his space. Bartholomew appreciated the captain’s generosity. The library raid brought in a slew of new books and they called to him, begging for a set of eyes to read them, explore them. He divided his time well, remaining useful as the ship’s navigator, but his true passion was in the analysis and dissection of language as it related to the content in the books.

  He stretched his dark arms to ease the stiffness he gained over hours spent at the table. His appetite for knowledge consumed him. He remained immune to the aches and pains until he completed his obsession. Satisfied after he regained feeling in his body again, he lowered an additional lens over his existing pair, magnifying the small letters to help his tired eyes read them. “It’s amazing,” he said aloud to the captain behind him. “The Earth Mothers’ duties and capabilities are outlined so well. It’s more specific than any other text I’ve come across. It leads me to believe this is based on actual events, or our author had an incredibly vivid imagination.”

  “I’m leaning toward the former,” Kazuaki admitted. He placed his hands behind his back and loomed over Bartholomew’s shoulder to examine the book. “I’ve cross-referenced their existence in a book Nico was carrying around with him. A political text of sorts, relating to the Time Fathers.”

  Bartholomew pushed his glasses farther up his nose to aid his focus. Without removing his eyes from the page, he said, “You’re aware that with the Time Father of Southeastern in our company as long as he’s been, his division is frozen. The other seven divisions will hunt him without mercy.”

  Kazuaki scratched at an annoying itch on his scalp. “It’s crossed my mind,” he replied with boredom. “They’ve desired our capture for years and have failed. They may be the law of the land, but maritime law is lost on them. I’m not concerned. Not yet.”

  “It is a wise man who leaves room for doubt,” Bartholomew added as he moved the book closer. “The medicinal qualities these women retain is unprecedented. They could give Elowyn a run for her money, and she’s the most talented medic I’ve come across.”

  The captain arched a brow and grabbed the back of an old, wooden chair. He slid it across the floorboards and pulled up a spot next to Bartholomew. “What kind of medicinal qualities?” he asked, intrigued.

  “They can convert and exchange energy within themselves to grow various plants.” He licked his finger and turned the page. “Plants with antioxidant capabilities, fever reducers, natural pain relievers ... it’s all quite fascinating, really.”

  “Really,” Kazuaki repeated. He narrowed his eye as his brain fired off possibilities. He wondered what happened to the women detailed so well in the book. The text was an intricate account of their existence. He did not doubt the authenticity, but if they existed, where did they go? The more he learned, the more his desire grew to find one, if any remained at all. The mysteries of the world pulled all of him in and didn’t let go. He hoped the coordinates in the back of the book somehow led them in the right direction. “Tell me more about these healing properties, Bartholomew. I have a vested interest in their limits.”

  Bartholomew looked up from his book and removed the glasses from his face. He stared at the captain with minor concern. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened t
o Bermuda, Captain.”

  It was not an easy feat, but Bartholomew caused the great Kazuaki Hidataka to flinch. He knew better than to deny it, and he would not insult Bartholomew’s intelligence by doing so. “Once again, your perception knows no bounds, my friend.” He said nothing else on the subject.

  Bartholomew frowned. “Come on, Captain, I’ve got eyes, don’t I?”

  It didn't take long for him to realize his poor choice of words. The scholar held up his hands in mock defense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to draw attention to the whole eye thing.”

  Kazuaki closed his eye—his original one. The other remained hidden under the protective layers of metal and synthetic leather. He scowled. Not a day passed he didn’t dwell on his ‘gift’ from Mimir. As if it knew it was the subject of his thoughts, the captain’s false eye burned beneath its prison. “I take no offense,” he said, waving his hand to dismiss the man’s concern.

  Bartholomew eased into his chair, but still felt the stab of residual guilt. He knew the captain despised topics which gravitated around Mimir or anything that reminded him of that day. “Well,” he tried to change the subject, “based on what these texts detail, it doesn’t seem like there’s much a plant can’t do under the right circumstances.”

  “Indeed,” Kazuaki mused. He laced his hands together and rested his index fingers on his chin. He remembered little of what plants could do. They only bloomed for the first quarter of his long existence, each species dying out on Panagea one after another. He remembered them with fondness. Though he only commingled with them for a short time, he developed his preferences. Grapes remained among his favorite.

  A familiar ringing bell interrupted the captain’s reverie. Penn’s dinner bell. An indication that a prepped and readied meal waited for them below deck. Bartholomew did not want to tear himself away from the book. He could have spent the rest of his life here. His eyes flicked over to the captain. Kazuaki’s mind lived somewhere else. Fantasizing about discovering an Earth Mother and finding the cure to Bermuda’s heart, no doubt. Bartholomew worried about the man. His mind was a deep place—sometimes he lost himself in there for days, tortured by his obsessions. Kazuaki went days without eating. The scholar knew he wasn’t in any danger of death, but it concerned him still. Kazuaki possessed immunity to physical deterioration, but mental collapse remained a threat.

  Assuming the captain needed an extra push to exit his quarters, Bartholomew pulled himself away from his studies. “Shall we retire to the dining hall, Captain?” he asked as he pushed his chair out from behind him and stood.

  Kazuaki glanced back at the book. He hungered for more knowledge about the Earth Mothers, but Bartholomew’s questioning stare prodded him. His mind whispered, ‘Just ten more minutes.’ But the look on Bartholomew’s face ... Kazuaki knew he wouldn’t relent. He forced a smile, and he lowered his chair back to all four legs before he too, stood to his feet and dusted himself off. “Well,” he muttered, putting on his best face, “we can’t very well focus on an empty stomach now, can we?”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  A primitive wooden table took up a majority of the room. Five chairs flanked each long side and single chairs seated at the short ends. Bermuda already found a seat inside, filling one of the single chairs. Elowyn sat beside her. The medic fidgeted in her chair, hoping like mad the others arrived soon.

  Though she shared a tight-knit relationship with Bermuda before Mimir, Elowyn suffered a loss of companionship when the quartermaster made her trade. The subtleties of intricate human emotions remained lost on her. There were no more sarcastic quips, no more empathetic moments. A bond remained the most critical thing a person shared on the lonely sea. In Bermuda’s company, Elowyn never missed the human companionship of Panagea’s people. But that disappeared. She wasn’t human anymore. She was a machine, calculating and cold.

  Bermuda sat and stared straight ahead, focused on nothing. Elowyn writhed in the silence, moving the silverware around the table to give her idle hands something to do. She almost jumped out of her chair when Iani came in, escorting his brother, who hobbled into the dining hall with the help of a crutch.

  “Presenting the infamous, the fabulous, the impossible-to-kill, Rennington Platts, everybody!” Iani moved to his brother’s side and motioned to him with both hands as if he showcased a priceless heirloom.

  Elowyn smiled and nodded her approval. “So good to see you out of bed, Renn.” She pulled out the chair beside her to make it easier for him to sit.

  “Not as good as it feels to be out of bed,” Rennington laughed and limped over to the open chair, easing himself into it with the help of Elowyn and his little brother. “Gods, that mattress is a jail cell when you sit in it long enough.”

  “I never met a mattress I didn’t like—” Brack’s familiar voice came out of nowhere as he entered the dining hall with Granite, Revi, and Nicholai. “Especially if there was a dame layin’ in it the same time as me, am I right?” He laughed, grabbing Nicholai’s arm as he shoved him to the front of the crowd. “Look who finally joined us after a feckin’ month, aye? About time this bugger eats with the crew, am I right?”

  Rennington and Iani exchanged pleasantries with Nicholai while the women appeared less pleased. Brack, Revi, and Granite sat down next to Nicholai, opposite Elowyn and the Platts brothers. Granite’s dog leaped up in the fifth available seat next to his master as he had done many times before. The beast knew how to balance on the small wooden seat, but his elegance remained in short supply. He placed his paws on the table and sniffed around for anything edible, but Penn had yet to bring out the food.

  Nicholai watched the dog. It was an easier place to rest his eyes than on the disgusted faces of Bermuda and Elowyn. Neither of the women warmed up to him, regardless of how hard he worked to prove himself. But the dog ... the dog liked him. He was easy to please. Nicholai reached into his pocket and pulled out a cracker from the pack he kept on his person in the event his workload intruded on his ability to eat. “May I?” he asked Granite as he motioned to the dog.

  Granite stared at the cracker, then at Nicholai. He looked at his animal companion, knowing full well the creature would enjoy it. The man turned his attention back to Nicholai and mumbled, “He’d like that.”

  Nicholai tossed the cracker toward the excited animal, who leaped up onto the table with the elegance of a drunk bison and inhaled it without grace. The dog jumped and spent the next several minutes poking its nose into Nicholai’s vest, trying to locate the additional crackers which remained there.

  Kazuaki and Bartholomew entered with little excitement and found their seats. The captain appeared skeptical that Nicholai’s face found its way to their table, but he said nothing. Penn pushed his way through the doors and set dishes on the wooden top. “Actual food tonight, ladies and gents,” he muttered, setting a serving tray of fillets before the crew. “Finally pulled fish from the sea that wasn’t mutated or doused in shit.”

  “Appetizing,” Rennington stared at the flaky, white fillets. “But if Penn says they’re edible, they’re all right by me.” He sank his fork into a fillet and plopped it onto his plate.

  Almost everyone fell into their comfort zone. The dining hall was their place of relief after a long day. Conversations amongst the crew filled the room, laughter and jokes smoothed over any stressful moments absorbed earlier. The cook brought out a fair share of other edibles though most were the flavorless non-perishable food items the crew became accustomed to over the years. Nicholai suspected nobody minded the taste; the amount of alcohol they washed it down with likely tempered any foul aftertaste.

  “Oi, Nico!” Brack’s voice jumped from the crowd of boisterous conversation as he slid a mug in the Time Father’s direction. “In need of a mead?” he asked with a laugh, taking too much joy in rhyming.

  “No, no,” Nicholai held up his hands with a light smile, “I don’t drink.”

  Brack cocked his head to the side. “You might as well be speakin’ a foreign langu
age mate, because I don’t understand a damn word you said.”

  “A toast!” Iani interrupted, paying no attention to Brack and Nicholai. “To my piece of shit brother, who has finally hauled his lazy arse out of bed to walk again! And to E.P., the talented son-of-a-bitch who got him there with her masterful talent!”

  The majority raised their glasses, save for Nicholai and Bermuda. He didn’t want to come off as rude, but he didn’t have a glass to raise. It was with an awkwardness he raised an invisible glass, finding that a better alternative than risking insult to the others. “To Renn and Elowyn!” the majority shouted, clanking various flagons and mugs together in a show of jubilance.

  As the evening carried on, Nicholai paid close mind to the camaraderie shared between the band of misfits in his company. The tales and laughter exchanged between them were intriguing and uplifting. More toasts followed the first, including some that detailed the lives of friends lost in battle or on more dangerous adventures. To his surprise, the Time Father found himself enthralled at the familial tie they shared. They appeared to care for one another with the same level of unity a traditional family would.

  Bartholomew slid his chair out from the table and wiped at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Exquisite meal, Penn, you outdid yourself with the fish. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go check our status.” The navigator offered everyone a polite nod before he excused himself from the table and traipsed up to the main deck.

  “Since Renn’s back on the up and up, how’s about a tune, eh?” Brack grinned, motioning Rennington to his feet. “Come on, it’s been a quiet few weeks with you stuck in that old bed!”

  Rennington choked down another mouthful of liquor and burst into laughter, the pain in his hip fading with each new swig from his cup. “I think I can handle that, but I’ll need a little assistance—E.P?” He stood from his chair with the help of his crutch and extended a hand to the petite woman beside him. “Join me on your cello?”