~~~~~
He didn’t know how long he was out again, but the helicopter’s blades rang in his ears, much closer than before. He dared to open his eyes and found that it didn’t hurt as much this time, though the dizziness came back instantaneously. He wanted to see what was happening at least, who had come for him before he was out cold yet again.
He was surrounded by metal, and his back was on something much harder than a life raft. He was in the helicopter. Crawford and Trenna were here, the former lying next to him on the limited floor space, the latter sitting on a bench and strapped in.
“Napping is for the weak!” said a boisterous, cheery male voice. Bouten Liamlak.
Dastou put his chin to his chest to look forward, and saw the fat gang leader in the co-pilot’s seat.
“But if this is the result of what you did,” Bouten continued, “I’d say you can go ahead and get your beauty rest, Cozy.”
“What?” was all Dastou could muster, and he failed to say it out loud.
Bouten had been watching him and read the one-word response on his lips. The gang leader turned his head to the pilot, a woman, and said something. The helicopter made a mild, dizziness-increasing turn, and Dastou noticed a tinge of orange in the air.
“And because I know you, I’ll tell you now that your bright-haired, loud-mouthed friend is alive. That boy is in the deepest sleep I’ve seen outside of dead, though.”
A man Dastou had not noticed before was sitting on a short bench against the hull – this helicopter must be at capacity with six people in it and Bouten having lost no weight at all since last year. The man moved further into the Saint’s line of sight and opened a heavy sliding door.
Now the Saint’s vision was filled with orange, a flickering quality to the illumination that was immediately identifiable as flames. Through the opened sliding door, it seemed as first as if the ocean itself was ablaze, but it was one of the warships that lit up the night. No, two of them. Two of the five that Blackbrick had sent were on fire practically from stem to stern, orange and yellow light glowing against the waters below them and illuminating towers of smoke rising to the starless sky.
“I’ll admit,” Bouten said, “I was hoping my torpedoes, or whatever you called them, had done some of that, but there’s not a chance. That’s a level of destruction I could only dream about!”
Not understanding what had caused so much devastation so quickly, Dastou didn’t bother trying to figure it out, not now. His mind seized up on him, and he laid his head back down, closed his eyes.
“The best news,” Bouten said cheerily as Dastou stared into the backs of his eyelids, “is that these Blackbrick bastards can’t do shit in DavNo. This fire will be seen from the coast, so their secret little invasion to try and carve their way to your school is pointless. I’m sure they’ll try something else, but for now they’re done.”
Dastou’s equilibrium registered the helicopter turning back to its course, and he heard the sliding door close. He opened his eyes and faced Trenna. With the door closed, he could try and speak without yelling, which was good because he wasn’t sure if he could talk at all. He pointed Trenna to his hand with his eyes, and then signaled for her to come close. She understood, unstrapped herself, and bent down to him.
“What happened?” he croaked out, and heard it in his own hears.
Trenna shook her head. “I can’t hear you, say it again.”
She bent further, put her ear near his mouth, and he repeated the question.
She spoke after moving away a bit. “I don’t know. Some song came on the speakers of our ship, and then almost everyone lost their minds. It must have been something like those, uh,” she groped for the word, “those Stitch you use. The crew was all fighting, I could hear it, but the crazy ones, the violent ones, won. Jaspertine wrecked on the side of the bigger boat because it was moving too much, and I got you off the ship on a life raft right when some fires started and more explosions were happening.”
He did remember talking to Citizen Vaiss, him saying something, maybe a threat. Then the song came on and he lost his marbles. Trenna had been saved by her immunity, which once again proved to be stronger than his own despite him being a Saint. First Nes and Saan, now him and Crawford; by the time the year was up, a hundred people would owe Trenna their lives and she could live like a tribal queen.
Dastou scooted his shoulder into Trenna’s knee, and she got the hint and bent back down to hear him.
“The second ship. The same?”
She rose to speak. “I think so. I could hear guns since that one was close, in front of us. The fires started there after it got quiet, just like where we were.”
Dastou nodded and motioned with his eyes for her to sit again. She nodded in return and strapped herself into the short bench on her side of the helicopter. He stared at the roof, not knowing why he wanted to hear what took place – it didn’t matter at this point. Maybe it was guilt, as Citizen Vaiss would likely not have activated a death song that turned his own puppets into raging psychopaths had the Saint not been there. If he did the right thing and went around the warships, waited until he could get to shore safely, this might not have happened.
Of course, if he delayed, the ships may have been unimpeded as they fired on DavNo, killing many more than however many sailors would die. Doing what made him feel better about himself would have resulted in greater loss of life, no matter if he thought of it at the time as the “right thing.”
Dastou breathed steadily and let the propellers lull him back to sleep. It didn’t matter what he did, people were meant to die today. And maybe tomorrow. The day after. The week and month after. This was war now, and the unintentional result of his actions at least forced Blackbrick into a position where they could not act, with two-fifths of their navy, their warships, ruined and the rest unable to hide their intentions.
He felt his mind dull as he nodded off. Hey, maybe if he slept long enough, Pie Pants or Lonoj would come and say hello, maybe help him stop fucking up so badly. That would be nice.
~~~~
Blurred Weaponry (Saints of the Void, Book 1) Page 47
