by E. C. Jarvis
“You just might.”
“Stop it, Larissa. Even if you did all that, even if there is some miracle cure that only he knows, he will not tell you for the sake of saving me. He is psychotic and deluded and doesn’t care about you. He certainly won’t want to save me for you. You can’t just turn on the tears for him and play the sad daughter. He left you and your mother destitute on purpose for years.” He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. “It’s no wonder you’re so naive.”
“Well, I was thinking you could beat it out of him, right before I let you kill him.”
“You…were?”
Though it felt odd and rather unsettling, she found a sly grin tugging at her lips. Father or not, Covelle was turning out to be the cause of so many terrible things in not only her life, but the lives of everyone else.
Holt sighed again, a frown darkening his blue eyes. “Give the Anthonium to Cid.”
“I’m not going to let you die.”
“All that we will achieve by injecting it is to prolong the inescapable. By rights, I should probably be dead by now anyway. I don’t know why I’m not. I will die, today, tomorrow, or at most a few weeks from now, even if you fill me up with every last drop and found a massive lump of it stashed on the ship. At some point, the poison will stop sustaining me and just kill me. I can’t live with it and I can’t live without it.”
“We’re going around in circles,” she said.
“You noticed that too? Just give it to Cid.”
“No. What if we don’t use all of it?”
“What?”
“I mean, this is far bigger than the lump I saw in the other engine on the plane, so maybe we can melt some of it and use the rest for the engine.”
Holt pushed up on his elbows and took the Anthonium, turning it over in his hand. “That could work.”
“Good. Well, it’s a start, anyway. I’m not giving up on you yet. We’re going to make it back and finish this together, and then we can go on with our lives, all of us. I’ll find a way.”
Holt shook his head once and leaned forward. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, lacing his fingers through her messy curls. His lips kissed her forehead, warm and familiar and more tender than he’d ever been before, serving to bolster her determination. His lips lingered on her skin. She wanted to melt into him, wrap her arms around his body and slip away to someplace safe, but her mind still raced, trying to put together all the broken puzzle pieces.
“All I need to do is cheer Cid up so he can help. I don’t know how we go about melting only half of this thing or how to break it in half.”
“And Kerrigan. You said you’d give over command to him. He might have other ideas for this.”
“I said I’d let him take command so long as he told us everything he knows and I’m satisfied with the information he has provided. I can just hold off being satisfied for long enough to get this sorted out.”
“There she is,” Holt said, leaning away from her with an odd expression on his face.
“What?”
“The woman who has made it this far in spite of the odds stacked up against her. The woman who can think her way around even the stubbornest obstacles. The woman who managed to Captain a ship of pirates and men who weren’t used to following orders from a woman. The woman I love.” He stood up and offered his hand to help her up as well. “The woman who is going to take down the men responsible for this mess,” he continued as he headed out of the room.
“Don’t think you can glaze over what you just said by changing the subject. I want to talk about that too, you know,” she said, walking on air, floating on hydrogen, her feet barely touching the ground, and not caring that her cheeks blazed with heat at finally hearing the words she’d so longed for from him.
“Later.” He disappeared into the corridor.
“I love you too, you know.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I’m not the naïve one.” He flashed a smile, turning to head up the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Saunders stood ignoring the cold raindrops splattering on his exposed chest. He hadn’t gotten round to buttoning up his shirt. As it was, none of them had thought of donning their purloined Eptoran uniforms to match the pretence of being men aboard an Eptoran airship. There was little point now as he stood staring through a spyglass, one eye squeezed shut, the other fixed firmly on the vision of the man who stared back at him through a spyglass. Across the distance, it was hard to make out, but the man had white hair dancing about wildly in the wind. Saunders dropped the spyglass and tapped it against his thigh, flinching when it knocked against the pistol he’d hooked to his belt.
“Well, LT?” Eddy said, standing at his shoulder.
“They’re certainly not Eptoran. They’re pirates, I think, but their leader doesn’t look like a pirate.”
“What does he look like?”
“I can’t be sure. He seems oddly familiar.”
“Friendly?”
“No idea. If we turn the illusion off, they’ll know how easy it is to just blast us into oblivion, and considering what they did to the Falcon, I don’t think it would be prudent to give them the opportunity.”
“Maybe they’ll just pass us by?” Sandy said as she danced from foot to foot at his side, hugging herself in the rain.
“Get out of sight. We don’t want to give them an excuse to come over here and board us.”
“Why would me being in sight do that?”
“Because pirates like those,” Eddy said, pointing at her breasts, “and they don’t like to pay for them.”
“I’m starting to regret this,” Sandy said as she slumped down below the edge, ducking out of sight.
“You can go below deck, save getting wet,” Saunders said.
“And miss all the fun of watching us get ourselves blown up?” she countered.
“So,” Eddy said, pulling a cigar out and trying to light it as the rain pelted him. “We don’t want to die, we can’t take them down, we don’t want them to escape because that’s the ship where Kerrigan was last seen and the best hope we have of finding him…but they’re pirates so we can’t trust them. Also, we don’t have an army to back us up.”
“That’s about right.”
“So what do we do?”
Saunders looked through the spyglass again, studying the spinning rotors on the enemy ship, simultaneously marvelling at the accomplishment and hoping they might give him some inspiration. His counterpart on the ship was no longer looking back at him. The entire top deck of the ship was clear save for one man at the wheel.
The pirate ship turned in the sky ahead, drawing broadside. A breeze picked up, sending the rain pelting down diagonally, blurring the view through the spyglass.
“What’s happening now?” Sandy said as she pulled her robe up around her ears, huddling up at his feet.
“They’re up to something. I can’t see—” Saunders was cut off as a flash appeared from the ship, followed by a bang. “Shit!” He grabbed Eddy by the scruff of the neck and they toppled to the floor as a thick black cannonball came flying towards them. The ball sailed straight overhead and crashed through the rail on the opposite side of the deck before disappearing over the side down to the ocean below.
“Was that a—” Sandy’s voice disappeared as another boom sounded, followed a moment later by a large crunching sound below.
The ship rocked in reaction. Eddy stumbled as he tried to stand up, arms and legs and torso flailing uselessly. Saunders backed up and bumped into Sandy, who squealed in reaction. “That’s my foot! Get off me and get us out of here.”
“Right.” He launched sideways, rolling over Eddy’s legs. Simms gripped the wheel for all his worth; the poor lad looked like he had just lost control of his bladder. Saunders shoved him out of the way and tugged on the wheel and the rudder, trying to take advantage of the wind and turn the ship.
“Go vent the hydrogen. Take us down,” he yell
ed to Simms. Another flash and boom arose from the pirate ship and another cannonball punched through the side rail, lodging in the deck, snapping the wood. Sandy crawled on her hands and knees towards the staircase to get below, Eddy crawling along with her, making some attempt to protect her with his body.
“Get off me, you idiot.” Saunders heard her yelling at Eddie over the sound of another boom, followed by a volley of gunfire as the two ships drew closer together. It was no use; he couldn’t outrun them.
“Sandy, turn the illusion off,” Saunders yelled as she disappeared out of sight, not sure if she’d heard him and even more unsure if losing the illusion would do anything to stop the attack.
A zip flew past his head, the speed of the bullet disturbing the hairs at the nape of his neck. He kept control of the wheel as another cannonball fired and cracked into the side of his ship, rocking the bowels below.
Rain battered in sideways, escaping around the edge of the balloon canopy which no longer provided any protection to the middle of the deck and seemed like an awfully large target looming above his head. Another zip skimmed past his head and he flinched. The enemy ship now yards away was turning and drawing broadside. He could see the whites of the eyes of those aboard, their sullen and determined faces.
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t blast you out of the sky, you sneaky bugger,” the man with white hair on the deck of the pirate ship called over to Saunders.
“Where is Colonel Kerrigan?” Saunders yelled back. There were seven men on deck of the ship in total, and though the man who had spoken to him had an air of authority about him, he did not seem to be the Captain. Saunders did his best to ignore the line of pistols and rifles aimed directly at him.
“Kerrigan? Why would you think he was on this ship? Who are you? Don’t tell me this is a military operation?”
“Never mind who I am, who are you?” Saunders yelled. He let go of the wheel and battled against the roaring wind to stand at the side of the ship, calling across the distance to their attackers, a sinking feeling tugging at his limbs.
“I am Solomon Covelle, and I don’t have time for whatever game it is you people think you’re playing. If the Eptorans catch you disguised as one of their ships, they will slaughter you. I have half a mind to let you carry on to Eptora for that to happen, but I can’t risk you surviving.” Covelle turned away and shouted something to one of his men, the instruction lost in the noise from the wind.
Saunders didn’t need to hear what Covelle said to know it wasn’t a polite invitation to tea. His bucket ship dipped in the sky, the two ships no longer holding level. He groaned as he imagined his patchy balloon canopy lining up nice and neatly for the pirate ship cannons to blast it straight out of the sky. Perhaps asking Eddy to vent the hydrogen wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Panic welled in the base of his stomach. This was his last chance. He thought back to General Gott, the vague instruction that if ever he were to meet a man named Solomon Covelle, to kill him, without trail, without mercy, without cause. Against all odds, he had found the man who had even a stodgy old curmudgeon like Gott worried. Nothing made any more sense than it had the moment he’d set out with Kerrigan after Orother was killed.
He saw the men on the other ship taking aim with their rifles, pointing directly at his head just before he dipped out of sight, the bucket ship descending towards the salty ocean below.
Gunfire cracked through the air, round after round pelting the canopy above his head. He flinched, half expecting one of the shots to ignite the pocket full of hydrogen above. Instead, he was knocked off his feet, thrown to the floor by the force of the ship hitting the water.
Sky turned to splinter-laden planks of wood followed by canopy in his vision as he rolled over and over, bumping to a stop against the wheel. The ship lurched in the water. A deluge of ocean came flooding over the rail, sweeping across the deck, before the bucket slowly turned, righting itself.
Saunders clunked his head on the floor. His heart rate whirred as fast as the rotors on the enemy pirate ship, coupled with the distressing sense of utter failure and ineptitude. So much for any hope of promotion or a marriage in a Citadel.
He pulled himself upright and watched the pirate ship whizzing off towards Daltonia. The canopy above now drooped, the last of the hydrogen seeping out from what he could only imagine was an artwork of bullet holes.
“At least we’re alive,” he said to himself with very little conviction, the sentiment giving small comfort.
“LT?” Eddy called up from below.
“Yes, Sergeant, what is it?”
“Your bucket is leaking.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The sandy terrain far below smoothed out to a level plain. They could have been flying over flat Daltonian farmlands, for it was difficult to see in the dark night sky. Even the stars seemed farther away and not as bright this side of the world. What was clear to see was the fleet of warships still following behind. The gentle yellow glow from their deck lamps looked almost artistic and serene as they floated along at a steady pace. Larissa was torn between admiring the sight and feeling utterly fearful of their escort. There was still a distinct possibility that they would simply be blasted to oblivion at any point.
They’d reached two great watchtowers which had caused quite a stir when they’d popped up on the horizon. Holt had warned her that the entire Eptoran shoreline was dotted with them to check for invaders. The frontline Eptoran defence network was so vast and thorough that it had prevented the Daltonian army from simply launching an offensive for years. Luckily, the towers hadn’t rained down a barrage of fire arrows, partly because they were one ship leaving the country, but, she assumed, mostly because of their escort. She wondered how Covelle had managed to slip by.
They circled past the nearest tower, a hundred and fifty feet of solid stone octagonal structure with thick buttresses sticking out for strength. Lights burned through thin window slits and a large flame billowed from the tower, showing the line of men with bows and arrows crowding around to watch them fly past.
Eventually, the smooth sand was replaced by dark movement below as they passed over the ocean. A calming shiver accompanied a cool breeze, pushing Larissa’s silky white dress across her skin.
“Well, Miss Markus?” Kerrigan interrupted her thoughts.
She eyed him as he stood at her side, rocking back and forth on his toes, hands locked together behind his back. A military stance for a military man, utterly rigid and unrelenting. His clothing donated by the Eptorans fitted him rather well, his broad shoulders causing a little pull in the white shirt she would have probably thought made him look knee-wobblingly desirable if she weren’t so smitten with Holt. Though he usually slicked his short black hair back, a few strands had fallen forwards, flopping across his forehead. He turned his gaze from the Eptoran warships and met her look with an intense, inquisitive expression. That singular look reminded her of the time she’d had him, alone, and nude in her old cabin. She felt her cheeks grow warm and silently praised the Gods for the lack of lamplight this end of the ship, her affliction hidden by shadows.
“Are we going to stare at one another for the remainder of the night, Miss Markus? Or are you trying to converse with me telepathically?” Kerrigan folded his arms across his chest.
“Neither, and you can call me Larissa.”
“He should call you Captain Markus until you formally relinquish that title along with command of the ship,” Holt said as he strode towards them. Larissa felt herself fidgeting. Though Kerrigan had acted civilly to her, in spite of their opposing sides, the thought of the two men spending any time together, locked in discussion, without restraint, was troubling. Her slight frame wouldn’t act as much of a deterrent if she had to throw herself between the two of them if the conversation degraded into a fist fight.
“Maybe it would be less incendiary if we all used our first names,” Larissa suggested. The scowl she received in response from both Holt and Ke
rrigan wasn’t particularly encouraging.
“I’ll let you call me by my first name if he’ll let everyone on the ship call him by his.” Kerrigan lifted a finger from his tightly locked arms and jabbed it towards Holt.
“Anyone who calls me by my first name will find himself on a one-way trip to the ground, head-first, during flight,” Holt said.
“Himself? Special privileges for the lady, hmm?”
“All right, no first names. If we can’t even get past what we’re going to call each other, then Gods help us for the rest of the discussion,” Larissa said with a sigh. “Can we talk below deck? Those are making me nervous.” She pointed toward the warships.
“Don’t point at them, they’ll be watching us closely. They might interpret it as a threat,” Kerrigan said, and to her surprise, Holt gave a single, terse nod of agreement. It wasn’t much, but if they could at least agree with one another on the need to school her utter lack of tact, it was a start. She tucked her arms across her chest, mirroring Kerrigan’s stance.
The three of them stood in silence for an age, watching the horizon fading away. The towers and their escort had faded into nothing more than small dots of light on the horizon, barely indistinguishable from the stars in the sky above. Eventually, the land of Eptora disappeared as well, leaving nothing more than a dark, ever-moving cover of water in all directions.
“Let’s continue in the Captain’s cabin,” Holt said, breaking the silence.
The three of them headed down the first flight of steps, leaving Zeb at the controls. When she got to the cabin door, Cid was standing in front of it with his arms crossed, like a soldier on sentry duty. Larissa gave him a weak smile, which he didn’t return.
“The Anthonium?” Cid said as she approached.
“I still have it. We need to talk. Join us?” She unfolded her arms and waved towards the door handle.
“Fine,” Cid snarled, stepping aside.
The cabin was dark inside. Someone lit a lantern behind, illuminating the room. Larissa froze in place, her eyes resting on one spot. On the wall, above the large and overly opulent desk, a cameo sat in a frame. Two faces, cut from black paper, side by side, rather indistinct and unremarkable to anyone else—but she knew who they were. More lanterns were lit, her gaze stayed firm, and an odd and uncomfortable sensation crept all over her body, as though a hundred tiny worms wriggled about beneath her skin. It wasn’t until she saw the outline of Holt appear in her peripheral vision that she could tear her gaze away.
