Beata wasn’t the only one crying at their table, and as soon as the captain confirmed Kailin’s death, Temmin put one arm around his sister, the other around Beata’s shoulders, as they listened to the rest of the Captain’s words. Azri looked angry again, and he glared at the captain as she passed on her way out of the mess. Dara, Saramay, and Temmin didn’t look up; Dara wiping her eyes with the hem of her tunic, Saramay crying into Temmin’s shoulder, and Temmin looking at the table before him, clearly trying not to cry. Beata did look at Captain Nyx, and she was certain the woman’s regret and sorrow were genuine. Wiping at her own face with the backs of her fingers, Beata nodded to the Captain, who returned a single nod and continued out.
It turned out that on The Kraken, a crewmember’s service included a number of funereal songs from several regions—the crew hailing from many places in the world—one of which was from Beata’s homeland, which meant she could sing along proudly and strongly to honor Kailin, even though she hadn’t known her very well. The young woman had been through more than anyone should have to bear, and it was nice to see that ten crewmembers aside from her fellow captives, the captain and the officers had come to honor Kailin. Beata hadn’t met a few of them, but they all wore the same clove and black jackets with dark waistcoats underneath, as well as tall black boots, weapons upon their belts, and black naval-style hats with clove and gold trimmings. They all looked quite smart, Beata thought, standing in a row with heads held high, singing with the rest.
Captain Nyx stepped forward to light the pyre with Kailin’s carefully swaddled form atop it, and it had surely been doused with something highly combustible, for the flames immediately leapt high and burned ferociously in many colors, causing the pyre to be engulfed and burned down rapidly without as much smoke as Beata would have expected. In minutes, all that was left of Kailin was a mound of white and gray ashes. The Captain, First Mate Copper, Quartermaster Jenra, and Doc Roban, all wearing black leather gloves, went to stand around the metal pedestal upon which the pyre had stood.
“Shipkin of The Kraken,” Captain Nyx said in a loud, clear voice. “We commend Kailin, wronged and taken before her time, to the clouds. May she find brighter skies, may she find peace, may she soar.”
The rest of the crew present repeated the last sentence as those standing around Kailin’s ashes bent, grasped the sides of the pedestal, and carried it to the railing of the quarterdeck. With the coordination of those who had done those actions more than once, they lifted and then tilted the slightly concave metal base. The ashes slid out into the air, falling away a bit before the wind caught them and scattered them upward and back, some sucked through the blades of the starboard-side propeller to be scattered in a fine pale mist behind the ship.
In moments the ashes had completely dissipated, leaving only the clear blue sky and a few distant clouds near the horizon.
5 – Learning the Ropes
Time passed surprisingly swiftly as Beata threw herself into doing all that was asked of her in maintenance, as well as reading the manuals Chief Oskar gave her when it was her turn to walk the kinetic charger’s otherwise tedious path. When she was finished with each manual, Oskar would quiz her while she carried out her grease monkey duties, ambling along behind her as she went from machine to machine, then to the other peripheral devices throughout the ship that required either grease to be applied on moving parts or oil to be poured into reservoirs and tanks.
Beata was also responsible for going about at the tail end of her work shift and winding all the piezo-lanterns in the common areas so they would remain aglow throughout the night. Oskar also occasionally questioned her on whatever she was greasing, oiling, or winding, making sure she understood what it was and why it was, as well as how it worked.
Over the course of two moons, Beata learned all that the manufacturers of the engines deemed necessary, after which she was given the updated supplementary appendices, and then a bound set of highly annotated technical documentation on the specifics of The Kraken’s own engines, including modifications and upgrades. This last was written in a very angular, but fairly easy to read hand, and signed by Master Engineer Veteen of House Treguna, Royal Academy of Sciences, Albion.
Beata was very excited to know she was being allowed to read the notes laid down by the ship’s engineer—who was a master engineer like her papa—and yet she’d been working in maintenance on The Kraken for those two moons without ever having been officially introduced to Engineer Veteen. Needless to say, she hadn’t needed to be told that the ship’s engineer would be far, far too busy to bother with one of the lowest ranking workers in maintenance, let alone on the ship. Technically, Beata and the other four were still slaves, captives bought at the flesh market, until they had earned their freedom; so, really, she wasn’t even a member of the crew, per se.
About once a week or so, Beata saw Oskar speaking to a plushly curved woman wearing a clove-colored coverall and boots much like Oskar’s sturdy, well-abused pair. Most of the time this woman wore a wide belt with pouches and tools strung along it, also like Oskar’s, and certainly bore as many smudges and smears on her fair-skinned bare arms as Oskar usually did; although, she had an interwoven set of fine-lined blue tattoos spiraling down both arms, which Oskar certainly did not.
A few times Beata had found herself the focus of the woman’s gray eyes, though whether it was simple curiosity or something more, Beata could not know. She didn’t get the sensation of animosity coming from the woman, though the first time their eyes met over Oskar’s broad shoulder, one of the woman’s dark brows rose as if in mild challenge. It wasn’t long before Beata came to the conclusion that this woman must be Engineer Veteen.
Though she asked questions of the crewmembers she had come to be acquainted enough with to speak to freely, she only asked Oskar once, about the middle of the second moon, when she’d come back to report finishing her rounds and had seen Engineer Veteen bidding Oskar farewell and departing toward the engineering workrooms.
“Have you finished for the day, then, greasy little bee?” Oskar tugged teasingly at the end of the braid knotted around her head like a crown, meant to keep as much of her hair out of the way without having to cut it short. Chief Oskar had come to treat her with teasing affection, calling her variations on ‘little bee’ or ‘grease monkey’ or occasionally her actual name and, though he rarely offered to touch her, it was never more than fleeting and lightly.
“Yes, Chief,” she said, nodding as she dutifully put away some of the tools she had needed for her daily tasks. “Was that Engineer Veteen just leaving?”
“Aye, it was,” he confirmed, reaching up to the appropriate rack and nabbing a clean shop cloth, tossing it to her. “She’s pleased to hear you’re doing well.”
Beata couldn’t help showing her delighted surprise, smiling as she wiped her hands and arms, save for the grubby bandages covering her living passengers. She’d wash properly back at her cabin, changing out the loose protective bandage for a clean one. The wounds made by Captain Nyx introducing the larvae into Beata’s flesh were long healed over, though the skin remained unusually thin at the point of entry—she’d been assured that was to make extraction easier on her and the larvae when the time came—which was why she and her fellow hosts were encouraged to keep the area lightly covered.
“Don’t worry,” Oskar said as she removed her borrowed tool belt, hanging it alongside several others, her peg having a hand-written strip of gaffer tape above it with her name on it. She glanced up at him in question, but he went on without her having to ask. “Veteen doesn’t talk to many folk, only when necessary.” He bent down and whispered, “Nor does she approve of slavery, though she tolerates it on The Kraken because we try very hard to treat those we take on well. So, it’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, little bee.”
“Ah,” she murmured in understanding, but then beckoned Oskar down again, and it was her turn to whisper. “Does she know you let me read her notations?”
Osk
ar grinned, tapping the tip of her nose with one big finger. “When she learned you had read the others, she suggested it.” Beata gasped softly at his words, eyes widening, and he winked, waving her off. “Go along with you. Shift’s over.”
Beata was smiling all the way back to her cabin.
6 – Dreams of Water and Song
By the time they were into the third moon since Beata and the others had agreed to host the larvae, hers had grown to nearly the length of her littlest finger. Her fellow hosts were experiencing similar growth in their own strange little passengers, though Azri and Dara had been growing more and more uneasy as the second moon passed into the third.
The five of them sat in the mess, eating their morning meals, and Beata brought up the subject. Each of her four table companions were quiet at first.
“It moves sometimes,” Azri finally said, his expression one of disquiet. “I’ve had strange dreams more and more lately, since they put them in us.”
“So do I,” Dara chimed in, looking down at her own forearm with a wrinkled brow. “Dreams of water and... singing.” She gave a little shudder. “It’s frightening.”
“I like the singing,” Temmin said quietly.
Saramay nodded, looking at Azri and Dara in concern. “It’s soothing. Does it truly trouble you?”
“It’s...it’s just unnatural,” Azri muttered, tapping his fingers against the side of his empty bowl with a frown. “The whole thing has been, but...then dreaming of drowning and hearing...things. It’s not just singing.” Shaking his head, he drew his left hand into a fist, the muscles in his forearm bulging beneath the three little mounds under his skin, barely visible under the loose gauze bandage.
“I dream of floating,” Temmin said, still speaking barely loud enough to be heard across the table. “It’s a little frightening at first, but... But it’s nice after a while,” he looked at his sister, nodding as he added, “Yes, soothing is a good word.”
Beata nodded, too. “I sort of like it,” she said with a little shrug, giving Saramay and Temmin a little smile.
“I’ll be glad when it’s over.” Dara looked so troubled that Beata was worried for her. She reached over and put her hand upon Dara’s.
“I’m sorry it’s bothering you,” she said gently. “It is almost over, though.”
“Can’t be soon enough for me,” Azri grumbled as he gathered his dishes and things to go clean them.
Sighing and giving Beata a little smile of gratitude for her sympathy, Dara followed Azri’s example, flicking a wave of her fingers at Beata and the sibs.
Saramay watched her go with a pensive expression while Temmin shrugged lightly and turned his attention to scraping the last of his food from his bowl. He glanced up at Beata as he took his last bite, his dark blond eyebrows lifting in silent query.
Beata shook her head, wishing she could help Azri and Dara feel less disturbed by the shared peculiarities of hosting the larvae. She also wished she knew more about why they were experiencing those peculiarities. As she started to clear her own things from the table, she paused and said quietly, “Saramay, maybe you could speak with Doc Roban about these things. He might know if there’s anything to worry about, or if this is just the normal way these things go.”
Saramay looked thoughtful for a long moment, head tilted to one side. “Considering what happened to Kailin, I think you may be right.”
Late one night, there was a knocking at the door of Beata’s cabin as she was preparing to go to bed. It was Saramay, inviting her to follow. Beata found the others gathered in Saramay’s cabin, most having just washed and prepared themselves for bed.
Everyone exchanged little waves or a word or two of greeting, sitting on Saramay’s bed and the floor beside it.
“So,” Saramay began in a low voice, “I spoke to Doc Roban about what we’ve been experiencing.”
Spines straightened, heads lifted. No one spoke outright, but it was clear everyone wanted to know more.
“Doc’s never hosted before,” she said with a little flip of one hand. “But he’s treated many who have, so he’s familiar with the things that happen. The dreams are common, and so are the sensations of music or singing. They aren’t harmful, though it unnerves some folk.” She tilted her head at Azri and Dara in turn, licking her lips before saying gently, “He also said that, if you have a lot of anger or fear inside you, they can bring it to the surface. His advice was to try letting it go.”
“How can we just let go of what’s happened to us?” Azri demanded, leaning forward, his body language that of a shout, even though he spoke in a harsh, low tone through clenched teeth.
Saramay reared back a little, eyes widening.
Beata leaned over and put one hand on Azri’s knee, reaching out with her other hand to touch Saramay’s bare foot. “Easy,” she murmured, her own heart pounding a little at Azri’s sudden intensity and her own daring. “Saramay’s just telling us what he said.”
Though Azri glared at Beata for a long moment, he then let out a loud breath and nodded, relaxing a little as he sat back again.
“I think,” Beata said hesitantly, “that Doc Roban probably meant we shouldn’t dwell on it, not cling to the things that make us angry or afraid—none of us will forget what’s happened, how we came to be here, how could we?—but we can try to see what good there is in where we are now, not forget the past, just... let it be in the past.”
Saramay nodded, “Yes, that’s what he was saying.” She looked at Azri with concern and a little apprehension. “It’s not good for you to keep all that clenched inside you, Azri. Maybe this is something to do with keeping us healthy while we’re hosting.” She shrugged, shaking her head, but then added, “Even so, he said if any of us are still having trouble sleeping he can give us a sleep draught to relax us. Nothing strong, because it might be harmful to the...our little passengers, but it tends to make for a dreamless sleep. You just have to ask.”
Azri and Dara both looked very relieved; Dara sighed and slumped slightly, Azri blew out a gustier breath and tilted his head back, eyes closed, whispering, “Thank the makers.”
“Thank you for finding out for us, Saramay,” Beata said with a smile.
Dara got up to her knees and leaned forward to hug Saramay impulsively. “Yes, thank you. I’ll go ask in the morning.” She released Saramay to stand. “I’m for bed. Goodnight, all.”
Azri rose to his feet, as well, carefully laying a hand upon Saramay’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Thanks, Saramay. Night, everybody.” He left as he was speaking the last words, and Beata didn’t doubt he would be speaking to Doc Roban, too.
Beata lingered and shared a ‘well, what can you do?’ sort of look with Saramay and Temmin.
Temmin shrugged, and then unwound his arms from his knees and leaned in to kiss his sister’s cheek, murmuring, “Night, Sis,” before getting to his feet.
Beata rose, as well, holding out one hand in a sort of wave. “Goodnight.”
Saramay smiled, tilting her head, and said softly, “Sleep well.”
Beata’s smile grew a little, acknowledging the extra meaning to Saramay’s words, and when she settled herself in her bed, she did sleep very well, in fact. The song sounded less sad than before, and held more depth than she remembered.
7 – At the Siren Islands
In the second week of the third moon of Beata’s and the other captives’ time upon The Kraken, everyone in the mess during their morning meal was buzzing with talk of stopping at Skycove Port for supplies. “Last stop before the Siren Islands and the Old One,” she heard.
Beata felt strangely ambivalent about no longer being a host, as well as apprehensive about what they would find on the Islands, as well as about this Old One, who was their client and whom no one would discuss in any detail.
As they approached, she could see where the name came from. It was a port in a cove. A partial ring of mountain behind the cove had been built up for mooring airships. She was curious to see it up close, but unfor
tunately, only a specific group of crewmembers would be accompanying the captain and Quartermaster Jenra down into Skycove, and that meant all five of the captives were definitely excluded. They stood with a handful of crewmembers, all looking down at the surprisingly busy port and gaping at the other airships tethered in a loose curve at the back of the town. Four of them, and The Kraken making five, were all quite different from one another.
One was black with red and gold trimming, the gas bag painted to resemble a great red, gold, and orange bird and it had gold tips on the blades of its single propeller. “That’s The Phoenix,” Copper told them, pointing it out.
“What about that one in all blues and greens?” Beata asked, pointing. “It’s got three propellers!” It had two configured much like The Kraken’s pair, but with a third one mounted higher, behind the gas bag, and all three were painted bright green.
Copper made a disgusted sound and rolled her greenish-blue eyes in merry disdain. “That’s The Sea God. You’ll not find a more pompous Captain in the skies. Captain Courtland. The man has an enormous ego. As big as it is, it’s a wonder they can get off the ground.”
Beata wasn’t the only one who laughed, though it was more Copper’s delivery than anything else. “And the purple and black one with the huge gas bag?”
“It’s a framework around the gas bag, actually,” Copper explained, and Beata nodded, having heard the concept without having seen the real thing. “That’s...hmm... I’ve seen it before, but I don’t recall.” She drew a collapsible spyglass from her belt pouch and extended it smartly before squinting through it at the airship in question. “Ah, yes. The Cloud Queen.”
Phantasmical Contraptions & Other Errors Page 23
