by E. C. Jarvis
“Did the woman distract you from your duty?”
“No, sir. I met Miss Markus only recently.”
“Shame,” Vries said as he stared through the porthole, watching the fields below pass by.
“It’s a shame I only met her recently, sir?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I meant it’s a shame you left. You were a good Captain. The Gods know we need as many good men as we can get with this offensive the President has ordered.”
“Are you attacking directly, sir?”
“You know I can’t discuss the details of the mission with a man who no longer holds his rank.”
“Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath. Everything he had been trained to do, to keep his mouth shut when held prisoner—which was technically the case now—seemed to make no sense here. These were his men from his country; he owed it to them to help even when it went against protocol to do so. He thought of Larissa again and his own advice to her regarding the honest approach. What harm could it do to offer up information which might help Vries to choose a less suicidal course of action?
“The coast of Eptora is well guarded at all points,” Holt began. Vries turned slightly to look at him from the corner of his eye. “You would lose a great number of ships by sending the entire fleet to strike at one entry point.”
“I’m not sure I can trust any intelligence willingly given by a man with a dishonourable discharge to his name.”
“You can take my advice or you can leave it,” Holt said.
“I’m listening.” The Admiral moved to sit behind his desk, locking his fingers together on its surface.
“The President likely ordered you to attack from a certain point. He may have told you he has intelligence to say that point is less guarded than anywhere else.” He paused, watching Vries carefully for any sign of reaction. The slight bristle in the man’s moustache was all the clue he needed to tell him he’d picked the right track. “He has no intelligence.”
“Are you giving me a judgement of the man’s character, or are you calling him a liar?”
“Both.”
Vries snorted, and though the moustache hid it, the crinkle in his eyes showed a smile.
“This is the act of a desperate man who, despite his military training, has no mind for strategy,” Holt added.
“You seem to know him well.”
“I made it my business to know him well,” Holt said, omitting his intention to murder the man.
“Let us say I believe what you’re telling me. What would your strategy be?”
“To delay the attack,” Holt said. He instantly regretted it; he could think of no valid military reason for such a suggestion.
Vries narrowed his eyes. “I have already been forced into a delay by the arrival of you and your friends. You can relay your concerns and comments to the President himself and see if he feels the same way.”
“We both know he won’t change his mind.”
“Right. We are a few days from the election. Once the vote has passed, our fate is secured.”
“He already knows he’s going to win?” Holt asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice. It would be no surprise to discover the election had been rigged.
“It has been assumed, of course. Things may change,” Vries answered carefully. “I will take you back to your cell and speak with Colonel Kerrigan next.”
Holt stood, feeling awkward as his body wanted to snap to attention and salute. He missed it more than he realized—and more than he would ever admit out loud. The Admiral collected something from his desk drawer, slipping it into his pocket before Holt could see. He wondered if it were some torture implement the man intended to use on Kerrigan, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.
When he arrived back in the brig, he could see Larissa, her nose pressed between the bars of her cell, eyes filled with a mixture of hope and worry. He wanted to tell her to stand back, to not give so much of herself away in her expressions. For all his training and everything they’d been through together, it seemed incredible to think she hadn’t become as hardened as he expected. If anything, the stress and upheaval only made her more feminine side seemingly enhanced. He couldn’t really communicate easily with her in the presence of so many others, even if she now counted some of them as friends. To him, their company consisted of enemies to varying degrees, with Larissa being the only notable exception. Perhaps her feminine side had rubbed off on him too much.
Vries collected Colonel Kerrigan and turned to face Larissa’s cell. He took the item from his pocket and poked it through the bars to her.
“Playing cards?” Larissa said.
“It’ll be a long trip. Should keep you and your crew entertained.”
“You wish to entertain us, or are you giving something to keep us from discussing pertinent matters amongst ourselves?”
“The cards will keep you entertained. The guard will keep your lips tight,” Vries said, and, as if he’d been conjured up, a marine descended the steps to take up residence in the corner. Holt stifled a groan; the presence of the guard would make planning an escape even more difficult.
“Don’t you have a deck with Fat Balls in it?” Larissa asked. Vries gave her an incredulous look in response. “I know they’re only for the Officers to use, but it does make the game more interesting.”
“Indeed. I will have the extra deck sent down,” he said, giving her one last, thorough look up and down before he left, taking Kerrigan with him.
“I think you impressed him,” Holt said.
“Twice in one day. Imagine that.”
“He’s not an easily impressed man.”
“Yes, I got that inkling. Should I be trying to impress him?”
“It can’t hurt.”
“You should show some cleavage,” Larissa’s cellmate Sandy said. “A man like Vries, who spends all his time in the company of men, has probably forgotten what breasts look like or how nice they are.”
“Why didn’t you show me your cleavage when we met, cutie?” one of Kerrigan’s men called from the opposite line of cells.
“Oh, Gods, don’t you start again. We’re talking about Larissa and her lovely assets, which might go a long way towards getting us out of here.”
“Um…” Larissa interrupted.
Holt saw the flush on her cheeks through the gap in the bars; her entire face down to the tops of her shoulders had turned bright pink. It was a good thing they were locked up. Holt wouldn’t have minded silencing such disrespectful banter with the use of his fists, even if it came from a woman.
“I’m sure I can get us out of here without having to resort to showing anything to anyone,” Larissa said. Cid grunted in approval from somewhere nearby. Holt felt like grunting in approval too, only it seemed a bit too late and redundant to do so. Instead, he simply looked through the cell bars until Larissa met his gaze, the flush on her face still there. He nodded once, then slipped out of her view, determined to clear his mind of thoughts about her assets.
CHAPTER FIVE
It seemed odd, looking down at funny drawings of bygone Emperors on the playing cards in Larissa’s hands, knowing they were, in fact, her ancestors. It seemed even more peculiar referring to her great-great-great grandfather as Emperor Fat Balls. One Eye and Hook Nose were bad enough. It was a miracle she hadn’t been born some lopsided freak with a bulbous head, having these people by way of a bloodline. She stared at the cards for a long time, avoiding Sandy’s gaze, who sat opposite her, knees pulled up to her chest. Kerrigan had returned long ago and said nothing of his discussion with Vries. The remainder of their group had all been for discussions with the Admiral, but as the brig now had a permanent Marine on guard, speaking freely would be impossible. She’d slept for a while, curled into a ball, and awoken to an uncomfortable situation when she found her ankles entangled with Sandy’s knees. She wasn’t sure which was worse—the sleeping spot beneath the desk of the old pirate ship, or being stuffed into a tiny cell with Sandy.
Larissa hadn’t managed to think up a plan for getting off the ship. Short of jabbing Holt with another injection of Anthonium—which she couldn’t do at any rate, as she had no access to anything which could melt the small block remaining in her pocket—even if she could manage to make him disappear for a while, such a trick would only get them so far. They had the invisibility stone. Sandy claimed an ability to destroy the locks to the cells, but she could hardly get on with destroying locks while they were watched. So they seemed to be stuck. Larissa had twice suggested attempting a game of cards, but her suggestions were met with groans and refusals. Her apparent lucky win the first time she’d played had her marked as either an extraordinarily lucky woman or a cheat.
“Excuse me,” she called to the Marine who stood with his back to the far wall, rifle clutched to his shoulder.
“What do you want now? I emptied your piss pot an hour ago.”
“How long have we been on this ship?” she asked. All sense of time had slipped from her mind, and she had no pocket watch.
“A day and a half.”
“How long till we reach the Capital?” Her second question went unanswered.
“Three more days,” Holt said. “Depending on which route he takes. I believe we have been traveling steadily north, though I can’t determine the speed with any accuracy from this disadvantaged position.”
“Somewhere between fifty and sixty miles per hour,” Cid said. Larissa was still amazed how the men could figure out such details from the sounds of the rotors or whatever other clues they used.
“We will pass over Sallarium first,” Holt said as he shifted position to lean his shoulder against the bars, his face pressed close to one of the gaps. He sat slumped, a trail of sweat dripping down his face.
Larissa scooted to sit beside him, the bars preventing the level of closeness she would have liked. She wondered if Vries would approve a request to switch cellmates and let her be locked up with Holt instead.
She thought of Sallarium City, her home for so long—how different it would look now with no Hub. Would someone else have moved into her apartment? Would Greyfort have hired a new assistant? Did anyone miss her at all?
“We will likely pass over Sallarium in a few hours,” Holt said quietly.
“How do you know this? Just from the sound of the rotors and a guess at the direction?”
“I have been trying to triangulate our position. We passed by a town not long ago. I could hear the thumping of machinery in the distance. Most likely the twin mining towns. Vries wouldn’t bother to take anything less than a direct route, and there is no risk to him on our own soil save for a few pirate ships. And there aren’t many of them who would be stupid enough to pick a fight against the biggest ship in the entire Sky Force fleet. Ask to speak with Vries when we approach Sallarium, see if you can renegotiate our position. If we are delivered into the hands of the President and his team of subordinates, we will be hanged the moment our feet touch the ground.”
“What makes you think I can renegotiate our position? Please don’t tell me you think I should show him my cleavage?”
“No,” he barked. The single syllable—loud enough for everyone to hear clearly—fell flat in the room, and if it hadn’t been quiet before, it seemed as though a dark blanket of silence had descended. “Sorry,” Holt whispered, the word barely audible even to her ear, inches from his face. “Maybe you could challenge him to a game of cards.”
“You think that would work?”
“No.”
“We’re you attempting to make a joke?”
He paused. “Yes.”
The silence returned as a warming smile spread across her face. His delivery was so dead-pan, she wondered if she would ever be able to spot his rare attempts at humor. “I don’t want to leave you when you’re being funny,” she said.
“You think I’m funny?”
“No. You wouldn’t know how to tell a joke if your life depended on it.”
“It’s a good thing our lives do not depend upon me possessing such an ability in that case.”
“I could teach you how to make a joke, but I fear I’m not particularly good at it myself. It would be like Cid trying to teach you how to talk to women.”
“I heard that,” Cid said. The corners of Holt’s mouth curled into a smile. Perhaps she was better at telling jokes than she thought.
“Some people are simply incapable of learning certain skills,” Holt said.
“Thankfully, you didn’t think me incapable of learning to fight. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“You still have much to learn.”
“Holt…”
“What is it?” he asked when she didn’t manage to complete the question. She wasn’t sure what the intention had been at the start. She wanted to tell him so many things, to thank him for everything, to tell him she loved him even though he already knew.
“Don’t die yet,” she said simply.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Guard?” Larissa called out.
“What is it now?”
“Please send a message to Admiral Vries. I’d like to speak with him.”
The guard glared at her for a moment, then disappeared to return a few seconds later, presumably having passed her message up the chain.
“You have a plan?” Holt whispered.
“Not exactly,” she said. “Sandy, I need the stone,” she whispered.
“All right.” Sandy dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled the stone out, handing it to Larissa.
“How do I…”
“Hold it tight in your palm. It’s activated by heat. You have to keep your fingers closed over it to make it work. I can’t guarantee how well it will work or for how long, so whatever you’re planning on doing with it—”
“Be quick about it. I understand. Thank you.” Larissa sat holding the stone lightly in her palm, feeling an odd tingling sensation from it. If she hadn’t experienced the power of illusion-enhanced objects before, she would have disbelieved Sandy entirely. Clearly, Sandy had far less experience than the Cleric, and while Larissa couldn’t blame her for that, it did make her cautious.
A long wait followed. Larissa sat fiddling with her hair and glancing at Holt on occasion. He had retreated to a spot at the back of his cell and sat hunched into a ball. She couldn’t see him well in the dim light from the single lantern at the center of the corridor, but she could see his suffering, and it made her heart twinge to think he might be close to death. What if while she wasted time trying to escape up top, he breathed his last?
“He’ll be fine,” Sandy said with a sympathetic smile. “Just don’t spend too long away from him. He copes better when you’re nearby, it seems.”
“You think?”
“That’s what I’ve observed.”
Larissa felt a frown tug on her brow, and she ran her fingers over the stone again. Her hands were clean and clear—no scars or marks despite all the trauma they’d been through. She thought of the Cleric, his moments before death, how he’d believed she could save him, and then she remembered the plane crash with Cid and his leg…
It can’t be that simple, surely?
“The Admiral will see you now,” a Marine grumbled at her as he unlocked the cell. She jumped a little, having been oblivious to the man’s appearance, so entrapped in her own thoughts. She looked between Sandy, the Marine, and Holt, who had slumped down completely and appeared to be sleeping. There was nothing she could do now to test her newfound theory, and she could offer no reasonable request for wanting to join Holt in his cell.
“Are you coming, or are you just wasting my time?” the Marine barked.
Larissa knelt, toppling slightly and bumping into Sandy, who frowned at her. Then a pair of hands wrenched her from the cell by her shoulders and unceremoniously marched her out of the brig.
CHAPTER SIX
“What is it, Miss Markus?” Admiral Vries asked as she entered his cabin. The marine stood beh
ind her, doggedly refusing to leave.
“Am I so dangerous you need a bodyguard, Admiral?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say no, but from what I’ve seen, I’m starting to wonder if this entire ship is at risk by having you on board.”
“I have no intention of hurting you or any of your crew, Admiral. I just wanted to talk in private.”
“Very well. Dismissed.” The Marine clicked his heels together, saluted, and left.
“What is it, Miss Markus?” he repeated.
She tapped the stone in her pocket and chewed on her tongue, torn between whether to act on her dubious plan or not. “I wondered if you wanted to play a game of cards.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My friends are all a little downhearted, what with being locked up and heading for the noose. Tends to drag people down. None of them want to play with me, and I prefer to keep my mind busy. I thought you might like a game to pass the time until we reach the Capital.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Not especially.” She instantly bit her tongue; that had not been the best choice of responses, and perhaps her assumption that he enjoyed playing was completely off.
“If you think I’m going to let you trick me into playing a betting game to win your way off the ship, you are mistaken.”
“No. No bets. Just to pass the time. You wouldn’t deny a woman who’s about to be condemned to hang to a last moment of pleasure with good company, would you?” She smiled as sweetly as she could manage, not entirely sure if she should discount the idea of flashing her cleavage. Still, her previous attempts at seducing anyone had fallen flat, and she wasn’t sure which would be the biggest disaster—failing to catch his attention or succeeding.
