Orion's Fall

by Cheree Alsop

  I paused and fear pulsed through my limbs. I had felt that same tremor before. One or both of the orbs of the Fornax was reacting to the water. Whatever Zyla’s crew had done hadn’t disabled them. The orb was going to blow.

  I was about to turn away and swim for my life when my fingers brushed a solid container. I grabbed it and pulled it toward me. Elation leaped in my chest at the sight of an intact pod. Light pulsed in the tiny window. We had hope.

  I tucked the lighting pod beneath one arm and pushed off the wall. The feeling of the water electrifying was intense and goaded me even faster as I maneuver my way back. The thought that there might have been a faster path to the surface through the ship was quickly replaced with the reminder that the same path would put me directly in line with the orb. I intended to avoid it at all costs.

  I shoved my way clear of the ship and swam for the surface. Blue light besides my own pulsed in the water, illuminating a growing circle from the stern of the craft. I swam as fast as I could with one arm, the container clutched tightly beneath the other.

  When my head broke the surface, I tried to breathe, but the presence of the water in my lungs made it impossible. I lowered my head back into the water and swam for the Circinus.

  The commotion when I lifted my head again let me know that the crew was aware of their danger. Sails were rising and Captain Dawes was shouting orders, but the ship still sat stubbornly without any sign of life. The orbs at each end of the vessel flickered weakly. One of the trawlers was exchanging fire with the other side of the Circinus. By the sound of the gunshots, the crew had made it safely onboard again to answer back.

  Hayes’ form was visible against the flickering of the Fornax’s flames. I tried to shout, but the water impeded my vocal cords. I coughed and the lighting pod slipped from my grasp. I ducked beneath the water and dragged it back up again. Desperation filled me at the inability to make myself heard above the flames and chaos. If only they would look in the water.

  Hayes’ eyes swept over me, then returned. The firelight illuminated his surprised stare.

  “Man overboard!” he shouted.

  I lifted the canister. The motion made me dunk back under.

  I surfaced in time to hear him yell, “Orion has a lighting pod!”

  “Get him up here!” Captain Dawes commanded.

  “Orion!” Zyla yelled.

  To my surprise, Hayes grabbed a rope and dove off the ship instead of merely tossing it down for me. I swam toward him with exhaustion seeping through my limbs.

  He surfaced a few feet away and swam the remaining distance.

  “Let’s get you up there,” he said, his voice tight with strain.

  I shook my head. “This…first,” I managed to cough out.

  Hayes’ brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded and shoved the canister toward him.

  He quickly tied the rope around it.

  “Pull it up! Throw another rope!” he shouted.

  The crew hastened to obey. The anxious faces of the hardworking team disappeared from view as my limbs decided they were done with the ridiculous fight and stopped moving. My head sunk beneath the water. I tried to care, but my thoughts were too muddled by the lack of oxygen.

  Hayes’ strong grip hauled me back to the surface. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. My exhaustion must have been easy to read because he gave a small smile and said, “Easy now. I’ve got you. You’re one brave lad.”

  It was a matter of seconds before a pair of ropes were tossed over the side with loops already tied on the ends. Hayes slipped the first one over my head and helped me get my arms through, then did the same for his own. The feeling of the crew laboring to pull us up humbled me at their effort.

  “First class,” Hayes said with a grin as he used his feet to keep him from hitting the side of the ship. There was a white ring around his bald head from the bowler hat he usually wore that had vanished somewhere in the water. The filigree tattoos on his cheeks crinkled when he chuckled. “Serves them right to haul me around once in a while.”

  Wood splintered next to my head. I looked up to see guns aimed at us from the trawler that appeared around the bow of the Circinus.

  “Defensive fire!” Captain Dawes shouted.

  More shots rang out. Hayes and I winced as the bullets peppered the wood behind us. The first mate let out a huff when one of the slugs found a home in his leg. I sucked in a breath at the burning sensation of a bullet grazing my shoulder. Fortunately, the crew returned fire with even more enthusiasm. By the time we were hauled onto the deck, the trawler had backed out of range.

  Hayes and I collapsed on our backs. A coughing fit overtook me as my lungs attempted to clear the water. Hands rolled me onto my side. The sounds of bullets and cannon fire tore through the air. I expunged huge gulps of water before my body agreed to work correctly.

  “The pod’s ready,” a voice shouted.

  “Get us out of here,” Captain Dawes replied.

  The deck moved beneath me. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at Hayes while Doc worked swiftly on his leg.

  The pain in the man’s gaze flickered with recognition. “We’re moving?”

  Doc nodded, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. “Thanks to you guys. If we can get free of the trawlers, we might actually have a chance to clear this puddle.”

  Hayes winced. “Careful, Doc!”

  “Pain?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Your fingers are cold!”

  She laughed. “I’m glad your sense of humor wasn’t wounded.” She wiped her bloody hands on a rag. “I got the slug out, sanitized it, and stitched it. Not bad for a deck surgeon, right?” She gave Hayes a fond smile. “You’re going to live, but see me if it starts radiating heat. You’ll feel pretty good once the sedative kicks in.”

  “Yes, Doc,” he replied.

  She turned her gaze on me and paused in the act of placing everything back in the medical bag. “How about you, hero? Need patching up?”

  I shook my head quickly at the thought of the greed on her face when she looked at my strange tattoos. “No, thank you,” I sputtered, my voice rough from the water. “I’m fine.”

  Her gaze was skeptical when she rose. “If you realize otherwise, come find me before you die.”

  “Will do,” I replied.

  We both watched the ship doctor leave through the fog with a bounce in her step as though she hadn’t just removed a bullet on the deck of a ship under fire.

  “She’s a strange woman,” I commented.

  Hayes chuckled. “You have no idea.”

  Movement caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head in time to see Zyla step out from behind a stack of crates. My heart turned over at the sight of her mussed hair caught back in a handkerchief, a cutlass strapped to her belt and a set of guns in her hands. She straightened as if she felt my gaze and threw me a self-conscious smile. A shot had gotten a little too close and left a powder burn across her cheek. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful.

  I told myself I was delirious and pushed up to a sitting position. The heat of battle wasn’t exactly the time to fall for someone I had barely met. Maybe breathing water instead of air killed brain cells. It would serve me right. The last thing she needed was a drifter with no memory and a proclivity for nearly drowning.

  She hurried over to us. “The trawlers are falling behind. They can’t keep up with the Circinus.” She met my eyes and gave a little shake of her head. “I don’t know how you did it, Orion.”

  I lowered my gaze and barely kept from squirming under her scrutiny. “You saved my life when you shouted.” I looked back at her. “You almost got yourself killed.”

  She rocked on her heels with an incredulous expression. “You’re lecturing me? I’ve never seen anyone stand there while a hundred guns are pointed at his chest. That was perhaps the most foolish thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  I gave her a half-smile. “But it
worked.”

  Humor showed in her blue gaze when she replied, “Yes, it worked.” Her eyes found the tear in the shoulder of the shirt Demetri had given me. “But at what cost?”

  I shrugged and felt pain run down my arm. I didn’t let it show. “No cost. You’re safe, the crew’s safe, and we’re moving. What more could I ask for?” The sound of gunfire was fading away. Wind rushed through the sails, a welcome sound after the crash of the waves.

  “A bed,” Hayes replied, jarring me back.

  We both stared at him. I had completely forgotten the man’s presence. Compassion filled me at the weariness of his expression.

  “He’s shot,” I told Zyla. “Doc took out the bullet, but he needs to sleep.”

  Zyla stood up quickly. “Yes, he does,” she replied, suddenly all business. She ducked under Hayes’ arm and helped him to his feet. When he wavered and almost fell, I pushed myself up and pulled his other arm over my shoulders.

  “The best of mates,” Hayes said. His words slurred drunkenly as the effect of Doc’s sedative took hold. He gave Zyla and then me a sloppy grin. “Best mates in the worst of times.”

  Zyla smiled back at him and said, “And best mates in the best of times.”

  Captain Dawes found us before we reached the door.

  “How is he?”

  “Surviving, Demetri. I’m always surviving,” Hayes slurred.

  The captain smiled and put a hand on his first mate’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it. You get some sleep. I better not see you back on deck until Doc clears you. Understand?”

  Hayes brought his hand up in a salute that almost hit me in the face. “Aye, aye, Cap.”

  The Captain looked at Zyla. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded. “Better than Lapero.”

  That brought a light to her uncle’s eyes. “Yes, we all are. No other Volters will suffer in that man’s grasp.” He turned his attention to me. “How about you, son. How are you faring?”

  Hayes grabbed my shoulder right where the bullet had grazed. I couldn’t hide a wince.

  “Right,” the captain said. “You’re off duty. Move over.”

  Before I could argue, Demetri pulled Hayes’ arm over his own shoulders.

  “Get that looked at,” he ordered. “Then find somewhere to rest until we have a room cleared for you.” He paused with his hand on the door and looked back at me. “You’re officially a member of the Circinus’ crew. Welcome aboard, Orion.”

  I was left to stare after them. The gunshots had stopped when the trawlers failed to keep up. Crew members hustled about patching up holes and working on the gaps left by the cannons, but there was no longer urgency in their steps, merely the stalwart atmosphere of a crew who had found a measure of safety after a hard battle.

  The nods they gave me when they passed were those of respect, and I returned them in kind. We had fought together, many of us bled together, and we had survived. The comradery from battle was undeniable, and I found myself enjoying the expressions of friendship instead of fear or suspicion.

  I could feel blood seeping from the bullet wound across my shoulder and knew that if I didn’t tend to it, I wouldn’t be able to rest. Reluctance to seek out Doc made me steer away from the hatch that led to the crew quarters. Instead, I found a woman with a shaved head who was busy repairing one of the torn sails.

  I couldn’t deny my embarrassment when I asked, “Could I borrow a needle and thread?” I had never stitched a wound on myself, at least as far as I could remember, but I figured it couldn’t be worse than letting Doc do it with her cold hands and covetous eyes. The less she saw of me, the better.

  The woman’s green gaze took in my bloodstained shirt and the goggles I wore even though it was the middle of the night.

  “Orion?” she guessed.

  I nodded.

  “The needle and thread are yours,” she replied with a graceful incline of her head. “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, thank you,” I told her. “The supplies are helpful enough.”

  The woman smiled as she cut a long length of thread. She selected her smallest curved needle and studied it for a moment, though I wasn’t sure what she was looking for. When she was satisfied, she placed the thread and the needle in a small wooden bowl that had held the remains of peeled fruit before she dumped them out.

  When she pulled a flask from inside her vest pocket, I lifted a hand.

  “It’s alright. You don’t need to do that.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman replied. “Infection is easy to prevent, but difficult to conquer.” Her expression was knowing when she continued with, “It’s like doubt. Don’t let it catch hold, and you’ll win every battle. But the moment you listen to that small, stubborn voice that says you can’t do something, you’re right.”

  She proceeded to pour some very strong smelling liquid over the tiny objects and swished them around. She then held the bowl up to me. “Don’t take them out until you’re ready to use them. The brew will burn away the bad and do you some good.” She held up the flask. “Want a swig to steel your nerves?”

  I shook my head and accepted only the bowl. “No, thank you. I’ll need a steady hand for the job.”

  She inclined her head. “I can respect that. Thank you for your help tonight. The ship would be afloat if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I’m just glad I could help,” I replied.

  I carried the bowl with care not to spill the contents. The sight of the needle and thread reminded me what I had gotten myself into, but I had gone too far to go back. Doc was no doubt busy patching up the rest of the crew. The thought of going to her sent a shudder down my spine. Of all the things I knew in the strange life I had found myself, it was to trust that feeling.

  I found a quiet spot on the forecastle deck. The bow of the ship had received the least amount of damage, and so was relatively peaceful if one accepted the hammering, murmuring of the crew, and the crackle of the frontal orb in stride. I leaned against the foremast and watched the clouds part in front of the bow. It felt wrong to be flying through the clouds instead of on the water, yet the fear everyone felt when the ship was down had been palpable. The monsters I had seen in the deep confirmed those fears; so why did the movement of the waves feel so right?

  The carved figurehead stared straight into the darkness ahead. We sailed through the clouds instead of above or below to avoid being spotted by another ship. How many enemies could one captain have? By the bits and pieces I had caught from conversations, Revolters had escaped from the Lunarians and Solariats and attempted to free their beloved city ships as well. From what I could tell, it was a lonely existence indeed.

  A trickle of blood trailed down my chest, reminding me that I shouldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. I tugged on the shirt Captain Dawes had given me and managed to work it over my head to the great dismay of my ribs. They apparently hadn’t appreciated me diving into the sea, being pummeled to the depths by a massive ship, and fighting to drag the lighting pod to the surface. I felt like they should be a bit more understanding. At least we were alive.

  I dipped the corner of my shirt in the brew, sucked in a breath, and pressed it to the tear across the top of my shoulder. The burning that followed made me regret my decision a hundred times over. I clenched my teeth so fast I bit my tongue. The copper taste of blood told me I had done a good job of it; the voice in the back of my mind said that I should try to keep at least some blood in my body. I rolled my eyes and told the voice to shut up.

  I closed my eyes. I had intended to do so for only a moment, but a different kind of pain swept me away. This one was intense and suffocating. I tried to draw a breath and the entire world shifted.

  I opened my eyes to find myself standing on a platform. Pain burned with a deadly agony along my torso. I glanced down and my breath caught in my throat. Arrows, nine of them with thick, rigid and unforgiving shafts, stuck from my chest. I stumbled backwards. Gentle hands caught me. I glanced up to see a face. The
features were blurred. My eyes focused on a single tear that trailed down a pale cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Orion,” a woman’s voice whispered.

  My knees gave out and I fell.

  Chapter Seven

  Zyla

  Zyla helped Uncle Demetri get Hayes settled in his bed, but she couldn’t keep from worrying about Orion. He had pretended to be fine, but he couldn’t fool either of them. The moment Hayes was tucked in and snoring in his bunk, she ran for the hall.

  “If he needs help, let me know,” Demetri called after her

  Zyla lifted a hand in acknowledgment, and felt a wave of gratitude for the uncle who had been lost to her for so many years. Her branding had nothing to do with him, yet she saw the guilt he felt whenever his eyes grazed the mark on the back of her hand. She wanted to reassure him that everything was fine, but at the moment, she wasn’t certain it was.

  Zyla searched every deck and asked the crew until she ran into Veldean. The woman with the green bandana around her bald scalp had just straightened from the foresail.

  “Looking for something, or someone?” She asked the last phrase with a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

  Zyla eyed her carefully. Veldean was surefooted and clever. She never gave away anything for free. Zyla knew if she asked for information about Orion, even his location, Veldean would find a way to make her repay the favor later. She had scrubbed enough decks and patched enough sails for Veldean to know that asking also meant owing.

  Zyla made her decision. “No, I’m fine.”

  She moved around the woman and was about to continue up to the poop deck when Veldean said, “If it’s about Orion, I know where he is.”

  Zyla turned around carefully. “I’ll find him.”

  “Not that way,” the woman replied with a half-smile.

  At Zyla’s look, she tipped her head in the direction of the forecastle. “Head up there. He took a patching thread and my smallest needle. My guess is he doesn’t want anything to do with Doc.”

  Zyla gave her head a reluctant shake. “I think Doc set him on edge.”