by J M Hamm
“Thanks, Tiller. I appreciate the words.” I turned to leave, “Oh, if your master stops by, can you send her to the bridge?”
“Sure … not like she ever talks to me, though. I’m only her apprentice.”
“Fantastic. I’ll be up there for the next several hours, but I have some errands to run before the ceremony tonight.”
I made my way through the narrow passageways of the USS Yorktown. It was strange how what had once been my prison had become like a second home to the Charleston survivors. The old aircraft carrier was becoming a floating city that already had a fledgling economy.
As I made my way towards the flight deck, I passed several of the survivors. Each gave me a polite nod, but none talked to me. The strange appearance of my arm had given life to many rumors about my connection to Eldritch Night and everything that had followed. If only they knew the truth.
I wish I didn't.
I opened a hatch to a clear sky. The pillar of light still dominated the eastern horizon, but the fog had cleared enough that the natural light of the sun bathed the deck of the ship in cleansing light.
I breathed in and enjoyed the heat on my face. It was a small pleasure. One I had taken for granted in the past. As I stepped onto the grey deck, a large kingfisher circled my head before perching on my shoulder.
“Everything set, Fisher?”
The bird nodded before pecking at my ear. I pushed it away and it darted upwards and quickly disappeared. The bird spent most of his time scouting for enemies. It was a task I needed the survivors ready to take on sooner rather than later.
Already they had several promising warriors and mages, but they were sorely unprepared to take on the worst of the threats. There wasn’t a person among them who could take on a Behemoth King, or even one of the tentacled Leviathans I knew lived far below the currently still waters.
Tonight, I would change that. It would give them hope and someone to rally behind. It would also give them a powerful weapon, if everything went right.
“Hey, Finn!” I heard Catayla’s gruff voice. “So … did you talk to Tiller?”
“He says everything will be ready. I trust him.”
The smooth skin between her sapphire scales turned a subtle shade of purple. “No … I mean about the other thing.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s just waiting for you to make the first move.” I hadn’t spoken to Tiller about it at all, but I wasn’t going to play matchmaker for two grown adults. “I’d say go for it tonight, during the celebrations.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times before nodding and heading back to whatever other tasks she had.
Catayla and Talith had their hands full training the locals to hunt. Many of them had been hunters in the world before, but hunting behemoths was a bit different than whitetail deer and turkey. I was grateful the Peacekeepers had agreed to help the survivors, even if the arrangement was temporary.
It was still impossible to communicate outside the quarantine zone, and what remained of the Peacekeeper leadership was contemplating making a journey north. Apparently, there was another dungeon, and another squadron of Peacekeepers, a little outside of D.C.
I made my way towards a tall tower in the middle of the deck and walked up a narrow staircase that went up the outside of the structure. Below me I could see dozens of humans and Peacekeepers working side-by-side to clean the deck and set up defenses. It was inspiring, in a way.
I felt much more predisposed towards trusting the Peacekeepers since Sebbit’s death. It was hard not to blame myself. For Liv, for Sebbit, for … everything.
I found Pat standing on a small balcony outside the bridge, looking out with a pair of large binoculars. I could see Worthy and Bridgette standing inside the bridge, giving orders into an outdated radio.
“So, Pat,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
“Captain left me the Conn,” she said flatly. “Being here is my duty.”
“Right, you know that unless Tiller works his magic this is just a floating museum, right?”
“The USS Yorktown is our home now, and it is all of our responsibility to keep it safe.”
“Calm down, calm down,” I held my hands up defensively. “I’ve been working as hard as anyone to get this place up to snuff. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
“The ritual?” she raised one eyebrow as she asked.
“Yeah, I still have some work to do. I’ve drawn the runes around the deck, and Tiller is doing his part. Telvy is … providing spectacle.”
“Do you need us to leave?”
“No,” I shook my head, “I just need some time to check the runes and prepare the connection to the Dreamscape.”
“This will work?”
I turned my head side to side, “I don’t know. It will if they believe.”
“So why Captain Smith? Why not someone already powerful, like yourself?”
“It would never work, they don’t trust me. You and Smith kept these people alive for weeks before I ever showed up. They trust you, they believe in you.”
“Anything else I can do?” she asked.
“No. Well …” I smiled, “there is one thing. Just have a little faith.”
***
“Goddamn,” said Captain Smith, “I feel ridiculous.”
“Oh, don’t fuss,” said Pat. She began straightening the captain’s collar and epaulettes, “you look fine.” The scene would have been comfortingly domestic if it weren’t for the two curved blades strapped to Pat's waist and the rifle on her back.
Captain Smith was shaped more like a barrel than a man and the gold tasseled uniform did look a little ridiculous, a bit like dressing up a bear, but I kept my mouth shut. The sleeves were a tad short and tight on his muscular forearms, and his large belly was straining against the fabric of his jacket.
“You ready, Captain?” I asked, “Or should I call you Mr. Mayor?”
“For now, just call me Arthur.”
We shook hands and the captain walked to the closed door leading out of the bridge. He looked through the glass at the expecting crowd waiting beneath and shook his head slightly.
“Alright,” said the captain, “I can barely breathe in this getup, any reason we can’t get this over with now?”
Everyone looked to me, and I gave a short nod. I crossed my legs as I sat on the floor and prepared to enter my Mindscape. “I’m ready.”
Captain Smith walked out to the small balcony overlooking the flight deck and addressed his people. They began to cheer, and the captain held out a hand to quiet them. I could feel their hope and faith in him. It poured into him and connected the survivors to each other.
I could see this faith flowing into the Dreamscape, and I used my father's lessons to keep it here, rather than feeding into the alien world. If all went well the faith of the Charleston survivors would grow on its own, but I didn’t take any chances. I hadn’t spent the last week preparing runes for nothing.
I activated the ritual just as Captain Smith began his speech. Every word seemed charged with power and each of the survivors looked upward with expectant gazes. Tears glistened in unblinking eyes. I could feel the links connecting them growing, only a little more and these channels would be able to exist independent of my efforts. Their power would continue to grow the longer they lasted, and the more Captain Smith earned the faith placed in him.
As the speech concluded I looked over at Worthy and nodded. He spoke a few words into a radio, and I felt the floor begin to rise into the air. I stood up and looked out the window behind me.
The ground was growing further away. Familiar landmarks quickly shrunk as the aircraft carrier continued to rise, finally stopping once it was roughly a hundred feet above the ground. I could hear the quiet rumbling of the survivors as they frantically looked around.
At that exact moment the fireworks began. It might not be enough to create a god, but damn did we pull that off well. No one would forget this night, nor would they forget the
legends it created.
The End
