by Nick Travers
Chapter 32
We’re all on the bridge, ready for action, as we approach Cutter’s End through thick cloud. Ahead I can tell the cloud is thinning. Cutter’s End should be bathed in clear evening sunlight.
Fernando is in his customary position at the bow—waiting for a first glimpse of the trading platform.
We break clear of the cloud. Cutter’s End is dead ahead in the distance, but the edges look fuzzy, as if a fog surrounds the platform.
Fernando raises his telescope and takes a squint. Then gasps in alarm, “Reavers. Full reverse.”
Izzy, at the ship’s wheel, stamps a break on the swishing flukes and slams the bio-engines into full reverse, without waiting for my command. Her swearing is drowned out by the whine of the engines powering up.
I snatch up a telescope, fear tearing at my stomach, and join Fernando at the bow to get a good look before the cloud closes in again. The fuzziness round the platform resolves itself into a combination of acrid smoke and a swarm of strange, mismatched, Reavers airships buzzing round like bees. Cold sweat breaks out on my brow,
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Hell’s teeth, there’s masses of them.” The trading platform is swarming with Reavers. I can’t see any signs of resistance, but even as I watch a black dot drops from the platform—I hope it’s not a person. “That’s one serious raiding party.”
“That’s not a raid,” Fernando mutters, “that’s a war fleet.”
He’s right.
Streaks of white cumulus cloud swirl around us as the Shonti Bloom reverses into cover.
“Have they seen us?” Izzy asks nervously from the wheel. If Izzy, the toughest of tough cookies, is showing her nerves then I guess she’s terrified.
Fernando lowers his telescope as dense cloud envelopes us and takes a deep breath. “There’s no sign pursuit. I think we might have gotten away with it.”
“I didn’t see anything either,” I agree, “but we’ll still take avoiding action just in case. “Scud…”
But Scud’s gone to pieces. He’s hidden in a corner muttering to himself. If there’s one thing that terrifies Scud, it’s the thought of Reavers. Frankly, I don’t blame him.
Years ago, I saw a captured Reaver Chief brought aboard New Frisco in shackles, four constables struggled to hold him, even though they each held a chain fastened to a neck collar. Hair in dreadlocks, clothes in rags, and eyes wild. Even though the Chief was struggling to breathe at the high altitude (they prefer lower altitudes where the air is thicker) he still spat, snarled, and fought against his chains like an animal.
As a child, I was drawn to the glittery cogs and bits of metal braided into the Reaver’s hair and adorning his clothes. I was especially fascinated by his battered top hat, still perched precariously on his head, and the flashes of gold braid peeking through rents in his greatcoat, from an ornate waistcoat underneath.
I remember the chief’s eye’s especially, because at one point he looked straight at me. I couldn’t hide the terror I felt when those bright green eyes, full of malice, stared straight into mine.
Borker liked to scare us young students with horror stories about wild Reaver raids. Somehow, they always ended with the victims being roasted alive and eaten. Scud, who takes everything literally, was naturally scared witless.
Time to pull myself together and act like a Captain—I can be scared later—right now, I have a crew to look after. “Izzy, let’s get this course altered. Fernando, plot us a course pattern that keeps us hidden in this cloud until nightfall.”
Fernando’s mouth falls open and he stares at me wide-eyed. “You can’t be serious, Nina. There’s no way we can deliver Jed’s box now.”
“I’m thinking about Trent.”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “They’re all dead, Nina. Trent, Jed, the toothy woman at the counter, every last one of them is dead. And if they aren’t dead yet they’re sure hoping they will be soon.”
“I’m not leaving him.” I square up to Fernando, ready for another fight. “Dead or alive I’m taking him with us, if I can.” I see the look of pain and frustration which flickers across Fernando’s face, so I plough on. “I’m not asking you to come with me, just drop me in and wait for me to come back.” Izzy’s looking skeptical too now. “I’m only asking you to let me do for Trent what I would do for any of you.”
Silence, broken only by Scud’s sniffles from the corner. No one gets left behind: it’s the code I live by, the code I have to live by—without it I’m no better than my Mother. My stomach is churning through terrified loops at the thought of entering a Reaver camp, but the thought of stooping to the same level as my Mother scares me even more. If I’m not better than her, who the hell am I?
Eventually it’s Izzy who speaks. “You’re not going to be moved on this one, are you, Nina.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Okay, I’ll help you.”
“But Izzy…” Fernando whines.
“No, Fernando. Nina would do that for any of us, we all know she would.”
“But just look at Scud, he’d vote against.”
“Scud’s scared to the core of his being, but he still loves Nina more than he loves himself. Call a vote if you want to, but you will lose.” Wise words from Izzy.
“Ok, I give in. Obviously no one wants to listen to reason, I’ll go plot a course pattern.” Fernando storms off towards the map room. “Mad. The whole lot of you are raving mad. In fact, there’s not much to choose between you and the Reavers—you’re all as mad as each other.”
That was easy—too easy, almost like Fernando has some ulterior motive. “And take Scud with you,” I call after his retreating back, “he needs something to occupy his brain.”
Reluctantly, Fernando drags Scud to the map room with him.
Izzy and I alter course, and I start to lay down plans for my raid on the Reavers. It’s going to be a long night and I have a lot of equipment to prepare.
Suddenly, there’s a crash from the map room.
“Aaaaaaggh.” It sounds like Fernando.
I whirl round to see Scud trembling outside the map room. He’s pointing wildly through the door at something inside the room. I have never seen him so pale.
Then, for the first time in his life, he looks me straight in the eye. “Nina, you’re dead.”
