by Sean Kennedy
She exhaustedly fell into her chair and was about to pull the blankets over herself when she heard someone—or something—scrabbling around the ship.
The sensors had been turned off to conserve the power couplings, as the engines weren’t keeping them juiced up. She fired them up quickly and grimaced at the reveal of three men nosing around the Lilliput. Scavengers. They would be hoping for scrap metal at least, but desiring parts and consoles if they were lucky.
She activated the external speakers and said clearly, “Move away from the ship, gentlemen, unless you would like your breeches filled with lead.”
She could see them jump on the sensors, and had to swallow a laugh. They were obviously expecting a derelict airship.
Through the speakers in the console she could hear one of them yell, “You all by yourself in there, little lady?”
Little lady. There was nothing she hated more than the condescension of a man who thought he was more than he actually was. Like having a johnson between your legs made you so much more… equipped for life.
She hit the comm button again. “I may be little,” she said, and flicked a series of switches to her right. On the outside of the ship, the guns would now be winking into life and swiveling around to take aim at the intruders. “But my guns are big.”
Rather than dissuade them, she only heard laughter.
“Lady, you better sound like you mean it if you threaten us with your toys.”
She was already bored with them. Fighting a yawn, she said loudly and clearly, lest they mistake her meaning, “I’ll only tell you this once, even though it probably won’t be absorbed by your pea brains, but don’t ever call me lady. Lady is what you call my girlfriend.”
And she fired.
They were lucky she was such a good shot. The guns spat bullets in perfect circles around them. The men stood, too petrified to move until the guns fell silent and they could breathe again, although with difficulty due to the dust plumes that were now billowing in their immediate vicinity.
“Now, scat!” Jazz yelled through the comm.
They did so, running to their horses and taking off for the safety of Settler’s Pass, the laughter of a woman echoing across the desert plain after them as if she were giving chase.
Back in the Lilliput, Jazz felt as if she would sleep soundly tonight, and dream the dreams of the righteous.
EZRA shook his head vehemently. “I can’t go down there.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” Icarus asked with a sympathetic but determined look on his face.
“No, I just happen to love small dark tunnels that I can barely fit in.”
They were on a relatively flat plain, just out of the canyon they had been sheltering in earlier. So far they had managed to evade any survivors from the ship that had taken them hostage but suffered its own wreck. However, Ezra knew that their luck could run out, which was why he was going to have to entertain the notion that Icarus had just presented to him.
“I’m pretty sure they won’t know about this cave,” Icarus reassured him. “All the times I’ve used it, I’ve never seen any other sign of habitation by someone other than myself.”
Ezra stared glumly at the small hole. “It looks barely big enough for a hare.”
“It’s not that far before the tunnel opens up. That’s why it’s so deceiving,” Icarus said. “Look, you can follow me, and then you’ll know it’ll be fine. If anything happens, it’ll happen to me.”
He said it lightheartedly, but it didn’t exactly assuage Ezra’s fears.
Obviously realizing he wasn’t going to get much of an answer out of Ezra, Icarus dropped to his knees and crawled into the tunnel. Ezra looked around their surroundings, making one final check to ensure they weren’t being observed, and began to follow suit.
Having Icarus’s ass in his face was not as pleasant a prospect as he would have earlier imagined it to be, especially when you were encased on every side by solid rock and an eternal darkness was swallowing you whole. Ezra tried to take in slow, deep breaths so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and begin hyperventilating and have to rely upon Icarus dragging him the rest of the way into the cave itself.
“You okay?” Icarus asked, although not stopping.
“Yes,” Ezra managed to gulp out.
“Not that much further now.”
That’s what you said an hour ago, Ezra thought irrationally.
But eventually the tunnel seemed to open up, and Ezra found he could breathe a little easier. Soon enough he and Icarus were getting to their feet and walking properly, although having to slouch a little to avoid hitting their heads on the rock ceiling.
Maybe it was just his eyes adjusting to the gloom, but Ezra could swear it was getting lighter as well.
“Home sweet home,” Icarus announced.
The tunnel opened up into a largish cavern, and Ezra could hear the unmistakable sound of running water. Thank the skies, they weren’t going to die of dehydration.
A blue glow suddenly burst into being in the corner, and Ezra had to shield his eyes. When he glanced back, Icarus was looking rather pleased with himself, illuminated by the lamp he was holding. “Told you it was a home away from home.”
There was a cot bed in the corner, along with a trunk that Ezra could only hope contained food. Now he could see more easily, he identified the source of the water—a small waterfall caused a pool that then siphoned off into a small stream that led into the darkness.
Icarus set the lamp down on the ground and opened the trunk. “Hungry?”
Ezra could have kissed him. “Yes!”
Icarus produced a small bundle and unwrapped it. “Catch.”
Ezra caught the hard, flat piece of tack. So it was only tack, but it smelled heavenly after not eating for hours and assuming that food wouldn’t be available anytime soon. “Thank you.”
“I provide my prisoner with food,” Icarus said, settling down on the cot. “I notice you never offered me any on your ship.”
“We weren’t on there long enough,” Ezra grumped, and bit into the tack before he realized exactly what Icarus said. “Since when was I your prisoner?”
“You have to admit, the tables have turned.”
“In neither of our favor,” Ezra argued.
“Really?” Icarus asked quizzically. “As far as I can tell, we’re in my home, eating my food, and later drinking my water. I think it’s decidedly in my favor.”
“If it helps you sleep tonight,” Ezra muttered.
“I intend to sleep very well, indeed.”
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Jazz has your wings.”
He got the reaction he wanted. Icarus colored, looked mutinous, and then calmed himself. “That can be fixed later.”
Ezra decided to let that argument drop. Like Icarus had pointed out, the tables had turned. He was Icarus’s “guest” now, and relying upon his hospitality and protection from both the elements and their pursuers. So he chewed on his tack and let the uncomfortable silence remain between them.
Chapter 16
JAZZ jerked awake when she heard the thundering of horses’ hooves outside the ship. For a moment, she recalled a ghost story her parents used to tell her about a headless horseman that rode the streets of their town, and a small shiver of fear ran through her. But the logic that comes with full alertness soon prevailed, and she leaned over and switched on the sensors.
A carriage was pulling up. Jazz frowned. Ever since the development of airships and steamcars, the use of horse-drawn vehicles was really only left to the very poor or those who rejected technology as uncouth or work of the Devil.
But the person who stepped out of the carriage was definitely not from the Devil.
“Bart,” Jazz breathed.
She jumped up from her seat and ran over to the cockpit door. As she was fumbling with the manual lock she had put on for extra security, she could see Bart being assisted down from the carriage by Albe
rt. Dammit, she was even happy to see the old codger, even though he was the one person she sometimes found intimidating, if only because he knew Bart so well and was her first line of defense (when Jazz felt the position should be rightfully hers).
Jazz ran to the door and threw it open. Bart looked up at the noise and gave a wide smile that Jazz instantly wanted to kiss. Albert gave a small hmmph to himself, and discreetly looked down at the dirt.
Jazz couldn’t help but let out a huge guffaw as she swept Bart up in her arms and whirled her around.
“Jazz,” Bart said sternly, even though there was a smile hiding behind it. “Just because we’re in the desert, it doesn’t mean we should lose all decorum.”
Trust her to defend social proprieties above all else. “Screw decorum,” Jazz said.
“Jazille!”
Jazz swore she could have heard Albert give a small, short laugh. “See?” she demanded of Bart. “Even Albert thinks decorum is best left in normal society.”
“I said no such thing!” Albert protested, and Bart waved it off.
“Don’t worry, Albert. I have long learned that when it comes to Jazille and Mr. Kneebone that one should take everything they say with a grain of salt.”
“I’ll take the horses around the back, m’lady,” Albert said, and taking them by the reins, he led them free of the carriage and shuffled off into the dark.
Bart looked at Jazz with a twinkle in her eye. “Now I believe you can, as you say, screw decorum and kiss me.”
Jazz did so happily, hungrily kissing Bart as if she hadn’t seen her for months rather than days. Bart pulled away and stroked her hair lovingly.
“How are you really, dear?”
Jazz looked away. “I feel like I’ve let Kneebone down. And I’m sorry for dragging you out here. I should have been able to manage this by myself.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m glad you contacted me. What else do you think I would have done, once I found out?”
“Come into the ship,” Jazz told her, and took her hand.
Lady Bart allowed herself to be led up the small gangplank into the cockpit, and was directed to Ezra’s seat.
“I don’t feel right sitting here,” she said. “Maybe I should sit in the back.”
“Kneebone would be happy to let you sit there. He would insist.”
“He likes playing the gentleman when he wants to.”
Jazz looked away again.
Bart reached across and took her hand. “You did what you had to do. And Ezra would have wanted it that way. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“I’m glad you came,” Jazz murmured. “I would have told you to stay away, but I know you would have come anyway.”
“Don’t you know it’s because I love you? There’s nobody else on this earth I would tear across it for to come to their aid.”
Jazz laughed. “You would do it for anybody if they asked, because that is the kind of woman you are, but I love you too.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She rustled around in her pocket and produced a blue velvet box. “I brought you something.”
“I do like presents,” Jazz grinned. “But what’s the occasion?”
“Now we know our hearts belong together, of which I never had any doubt, I wanted you to wear something that would make sure a piece of me was with you always. No matter where you are.”
Jazz opened the box, and sighed happily. Resting upon a layer of cream velvet was a brooch unlike any other Jazz had ever seen. Brass wings unfurled from the top of the piece of jewelry, held together by small cogs, and below dangled a jade heart. “It’s beautiful,” she said, knowing that it was an understatement.
Lady Bart reached within the box and fastened the brooch upon the pocket sitting just above Jazz’s breast. “I had it made especially. The wings are yours, my lady of the skies, and the heart is mine. Together they make a fine pair.”
“They do indeed,” Jazz murmured, kissing her. “I wish I had a present to give you.”
“You’re all the present I need, as long as you always return home safe. No one has ever claimed my heart as fully as you have, Jazille. I mean, just look at me, I look a fright in this garb! I know you love wearing trousers, Jazille, but it’s hardly befitting for someone who isn’t a pilot.”
They were back to trading humorous jibes, but there was no denying the love beneath them. “I don’t know,” Jazz said, with a lusty glint in her eye. “I think you wear them very well.”
“Of course I do. But that’s not the point. I think now we should strike a deal. You have seen me in trousers, now I wish to see you in a dress one day.”
Jazz scowled.
“Well?”
She knew resistance was useless, and besides she now had a perfect gift to give Bart in return. “Fine.”
“Really?” Bart’s eyes lit up with glee.
“Tradeabout’s only fair, I guess.”
“I must say, I thought you would kick up more of a fuss.”
“How could I, after you’ve come all this way for me?”
Bart smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Jazille. But I have another idea. Even though you like me in these trousers, why don’t you come over here and help me out of them?”
Unlike the thought of wearing a dress, Jazz was much less resistant to this question posed to her.
It was just as well Albert was spending the night in the carriage and leaving the cockpit to them alone.
EZRA refused the offer of the cot, as it was Icarus’s “home” and he deserved it, but he was not foolish enough to resist the extra blanket to try and soften the ground for him to lie upon.
“It must be hard,” Icarus said.
“What?” Ezra asked, his eyes flying open in the dark.
“The ground,” Icarus replied.
“It’s okay. I’ve slept on worse.” What Ezra didn’t remark on was the cold. It seeped up from the rock beneath him, heading straight to his bones. Icarus was spared the brunt of it, most likely from the cot he lay on. Ezra envied him, but his pride stopped him from giving any indication that he was even thinking of it in passing.
“Comes with the life, doesn’t it?”
“At least I have a ship to sleep in at night,” Ezra said stoically. “Must be worse for you, seeing you rely upon wings for transportation.”
“I have a ship,” Icarus admitted, which laid another theory to rest for Ezra. “At least, I hope I still have a ship. It’s probably been destroyed or scavenged beyond fixing now.”
Ezra heard the regret in his tone and could relate. No captain could bear the loss of a ship. He tried some semblance of comforting. “You still have your wings.”
“No,” Icarus replied with a steeliness to his tone. “Your woman has my wings. If she’s still alive.”
Ezra wanted to throw aside his blankets and punch the man senseless. “Jazz is alive, and I won’t have you saying anything different.”
Icarus remained silent.
“And she’s not my woman.”
Silence, then a query. “She ain’t?”
“You know she’s not.”
“You’ve actually never said, one way or the other,” Icarus told him.
“You were the one who said I looked like the kind of person who would enjoy the kiss of another man.” Ezra glowered in the dark, even though he knew Icarus couldn’t see his expression. “I would have thought it was obvious Jazz wasn’t my woman, then.”
“Plenty of men who like men front around with women.”
“Well, I don’t play that way.”
“Good for you.”
It was hard to judge the intent of anything Icarus said. “Are you poking fun at me?”
“No,” Icarus replied, sounding honest at least. “I don’t stand for that kind of behavior.”
Ezra laughed.
This time Icarus sounded affronted. “Now you’re laughing at me.”
“You’re the most moral outlaw I’ve ever come across, is all.”
�
��I’m sure a lot of us are.”
“No,” Ezra said. “You’re unlike anybody else I’ve ever met.”
There was a pause before Icarus spoke. “That’s sounding dangerously like a compliment, Kneebone.”
“It is, of sorts.”
“So you’ve gone from kidnapper to admirer in the space of a day?”
As Icarus’s tone was jovial, Ezra decided to echo it. “It’s been more than a day, hasn’t it?”
“We might have passed a twenty-four hour period.”
In the dark, Ezra found he could say more to this almost-stranger than he had even been able to tell his best friend the day before. “I never liked going after you. But I needed the money.”
“You told me that.”
“And you probably still think ill of me for it.”
“I have to say, it’s not your best quality.”
“It’s not all that I am,” Ezra said defensively.
“Most likely it isn’t. But what did you need the money for so bad?”
Ezra rolled over onto his side. He was now staring at Icarus directly, but he was still little more than a lump in the dark. “I guess I was seeking my own kind of freedom.”
“That’s understandable. But what exact kind of freedom? You don’t look malnourished. You own a ship, so you have a roof over your head.”
“Is it a crime to want more than the basics?” Ezra demanded.
“No. But maybe you can quit acting so entitled.”
“Look, it’s easy to be all holier-than-thou—”
“You’re right,” Icarus said smugly, “it is, actually.”
“You damn—”
“If it was so darn hard, then I wouldn’t be doing it.”
“Look at the life you’re living,” Ezra said heatedly. “You can’t say that it’s an easy one. Living on the run. Avoiding capture.”
“I’m succeeding at it. So could you.”
“The bullet in your belly and the bullet in my leg might say otherwise. Next time they may be in our heads.”
“Maybe.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?”
“Of course,” Icarus admitted.
