Fallen Star

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Part 20: ESCORT

Maira left Ham to work and continued on. By the time she got to the bunkhouse she was shivering uncontrollably, and wrapped her coat tight around her even as she pushed through the door. Lance was sitting next to Wilde’s bed, his hand on her brow. Maira stopped when he turned to her, his face a mask of worry.

‘I think she’s getting worse,’ he said. ‘She’s gasping for breath and she feels cold.’

Maira approached, placed a hand on her cheek – Wilde was ice cold, and she could hear from this close how she was struggling to breathe.

‘We’re nearly there,’ she said. ‘Just a few more hours. I’ll send Cynan down as soon as I can.’

She left Lance there, looking alone and afraid, and sprinted along the catwalks to the helm. Cynan stood at the wheel, expertly managing the shifting winds.

‘Anything from the radio yet?’ Maira asked as she entered. Cynan glanced to her and shook his head.

‘No word,’ he said. ‘Could be nothing,’ he added, seeing Maira’s face. ‘Or at least, unrelated to the ship. Cannibal civil wars are messy, but quick – we might’ve called in the middle of a coup.’

‘Is that likely?’ Maira asked. She collapsed next to the radio, out of breath. Cynan nodded.

‘You’d be surprised,’ he said with a wry smile.

‘Well we’re running out of time,’ Maira grumbled. She picked up the headset. ‘Vaalhest tower, come in; this is Captain Deanfleet of the Fallen Star, requesting clearance to proceed to landing. We have sick crew and require aid. Vaalhest tower, please respond.’

She stared at the radio, but no answer was forthcoming. She sighed and sat back in the chair.

‘I don’t like this,’ she said aloud. ‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’

‘It’s only been ten minutes, captain,’ Cynan replied evenly. ‘Perhaps we just need to wait a little longer.’

‘I hope so,’ Maira said. ‘I’m going to put this onto the speaker – I don’t trust myself to stay awake while I wait for an answer.’

As it was, the answer arrived forty minutes later.

‘Fallen Star, this is Vaalhest tower,’ the radio spat. ‘Your ship is wanted for historic crimes against the Dimmerlands; hold your position. We are sending two warships to escort you to berth.’

‘What?’ Maira cried. She pressed down the call button and responded. ‘Vaalhest tower, clarification: I have captained this ship for two weeks, I am unaware of any historic issues with the Fallen Star. Please clarify your position, over.’

This time the reply was immediate.

‘Fallen Star, this is tower. Captain Deanfleet of the Fallen Star is wanted for historic crimes against the Dimmerlands, including but not limited to: theft; murder; assault on a Dimmer watchtower; and High Treason. Once again, you are ordered to hold your position and await warship escort. We ask that your surrender peacefully, we will resort to lethal force if necessary.’ Maira growled in frustration.

‘Tower!’ she yelled. ‘I say again, I know of no such crimes, nor have I perpetrated any. I have only been in command of this ship for two weeks! I’m aware of no historic crimes this ship has been involved in!’

‘Nevertheless,’ the reply came, ‘you are ordered to hold position and await our warships. Surrender peacefully, we will resort to lethal force if necessary.’

The radio clicked off. Maira stared in disbelief, hands balled up into fists.

‘Lightning strike!’ she yelled, slamming a fist down onto the table. ‘Once again my dad’s actions get me into trouble! I can’t take one flight in this world without his influence rearing its ugly head!’

She stared at the radio, daring it to turn on again.

‘Your father casts a long shadow,’ Cynan noted. ‘His ship – his legacy – has had decades to grow, even after he hung up his sword and pistol.’

‘And now it’s mine to reckon with,’ Maira sighed. ‘I should radio down, stop the ship.’

She didn’t reach for the crew radio. Cynan turned to regard her.

‘Yet you do not do so. Why not?’

‘I’m worried. Any delay could kill Wilde; and we’re all exhausted and we’re out of options.’

The radio crackled into life again.

‘Fallen Star, this is Vaalhest tower. I say again, hold your position and surrender peacefully!’

Maira clicked the call button.

‘Vaalhest, this is Fallen Star. I say again, we have sick and injured aboard. We are continuing on our current heading which, if I am correct, is on a direct intercept with your warships; it should present you no great trouble to meet us on our course.’

Full silence for ten minutes. Then:

‘Fallen Star, this is Vaalhest. Continue on your present course, our warships will intercept. Follow their instructions once they are within radio range.’

‘Understood. Over and out.’ Maira clicked off the radio, then looked anxiously to Cynan.

‘We’re on course now,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here – you look in on Wilde.’

Maira radioed down to let Ham and Lance know the plan. Cynan checked on Wilde, finding her worse.

‘She’ll die without help,’ he noted to Lance. ‘Keep her warm, keep her safe; we’ll get her help as soon as we can.’

He made to go, but felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned.

‘And… and if she dies?’ Lance asked. His eyes were wide, and he was almost as pale as Maira had been.

‘Well… we’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that,’ he said.

On the way back, Ham stopped him. He redirected Cynan into the galley and took a seat.

‘Mister Hamilton,’ he said. ‘I appreciate you have concerns, but-’

‘This isn’t about that.’ Ham gestured to the seat opposite him. Cynan sat, and Ham produced a bottle of rum from somewhere.

‘You came onto this ship and in a couple of days, you’ve taken over the piloting, the radio, and managing the health of our injured passenger,’ Ham said. He gripped the cork in his teeth and pulled it from the bottle.

‘Mister Hamilton, I’m not sure-’ Cynan began, but Ham held up a hand. He took two glasses and filled them each half-full of rum.

‘You’ve kept this boat going,’ he said. ‘We wouldn’t have made it nearly this far without you. So… thank you.’ Ham raised the glass in a toast.

Cynan stared.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this,’ he said. He made to stand, and Ham grabbed his wrist.

‘Yes you do,’ he replied. ‘Because you’ve been doing too much for us. I know you’re working yourself to the bone for us… for this flight. Now you need to take a minute, relax, and tell me why.’

Cynan glowered at him. But he sat and he took up his glass. He took a sip.

‘I’m dying,’ he said. ‘I want to return home before I do. That’s all there is to is.’

‘Bullroar,’ Ham spat. ‘There’s more to it. I know you worked on this boat decades ago – but a lot of people have, and they wouldn’t have the temerity to act with the command you do on here; and they certainly wouldn’t presume to talk of Dorian’s death so easily.’

‘I told you already’ Cynan said. ‘Everything is fated, even me.’

‘Yeah, you said that before. And it kept going around in my head, because it’s a weird turn of phrase. But I remember a couple things from the Hellions’ days; you were the Fated of the Dimmerlands, ol’ Legate would say. What does that mean?’

‘It means that these are exactly the sort of questions you shouldn’t be asking!’ Cynan hissed. He stopped and sighed.

‘Your captain,’ he continued. ‘She’s in trouble with Vaalhest. Or the ship is, not her; seems Dorian committed some acts against the fortress that they’re holding a grudge about. There’s a very real chance she could be killed if we allow them to arrest us; I need to be up there when they radio so I can prevent that.’

‘I’ve not heard much about the Fated,’ Ham said. He took a swig of his drink. ‘But from what I recall, it’s a sort of most-wanted list for the Cannibal lands – you’re a criminal up there. Why are you going back?’

‘You know exactly why!’ Cynan pushed his drink away, but Ham placed it back in front of him.

‘Have your damn drink, Cynan,’ he said. ‘You’re going back to die, we might as well have one last toast to your memory. But what I don’t understand is: why us?’

‘Yours was the next ship going,’ Cynan said. ‘That’s all there is to it.’ Ham regarded him with a critical eye.

‘An ex-Hellion who ran on this very ship,’ he said. ‘Who’s been fated for over thirty years, is only just now coming home, when the Fallen Star is flying again, and right when it’s passing through towards Vaalhest? Now call me a Cannibal, because even I can see there’s some element of planning there!’

Cynan glared at him for some time. But then he downed the rum and slammed the glass down.

‘Alright, yes,’ he said. ‘Consider this my one last good deed. I’m Fated, long-dead; but the House of Lies-in-Shadow has been forbidden from Vaalhest since we attacked it nearly sixty years ago! Legate’s Hellions are scattered, either dead by age or by Cannibal hands; we’re never meant to return. But I am homesick, and I had hoped to return one last time, to… to say goodbye.

‘When I heard the Fallen Star was flying again, it seemed like a sign. For the first time in thirty years, the ship of my younger years was back in the air! And while the arc of history is long, Cannibal lives are longer than humans’ – I saw the bend of fate and I positioned myself just so.’ He sat back, stared at the empty glass.

‘Medicine Leaf was in turmoil; I knew you would first head that way, and I trusted to fate that your route would turn you North – there’s not much work for light runners in the Corpo lands these days, it seemed a safe bet. So yes: I went to that waystation seeking out this specific ship. I wanted the one that had borne me against Vaalhest to be the one to bear me home. Not just to clear my name; but my family’s, and this ship’s too.’

Ham poured them each another measure of rum.

‘I was right,’ he said. ‘You really don’t sound like a Hellion anymore. But maybe that’s my problem. Dorian never had much truck with you when you were on the ship; I always worried you’d feel betrayed when he left you, but I never actually took the time to ask how you felt about being Fated, either.’

‘To be fair,’ Cynan sighed, ‘I don’t think many of us in the Hellions ever thought about it, at the time.’ He raised his glass to his lips.

‘I’m, uh… look, sorry for not trusting you,’ Ham said eventually. ‘I’ve run with the Hellions in my youth; I should know better.’

Cynan smiled.

‘So should we all,’ he said. ‘But it didn’t stop me either; thank you for your trust. And your memory.’

They finished their drinks. At the door to the galley they shook hands and parted. Ham for the engine bay; Cynan for the helm.

It was not long after returning to the helm that the radio clicked on again.

‘Fallen Star this is the captain of the Wasteland Jaeger,’ it said. ‘We are closing on your position; please hold and await further instructions.’

‘The Wasteland Jaeger?’ Cynan asked. Maira moved to reply, but Cynan held up a hand. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Take the wheel; let me talk to them.’

‘Are you sure?’ Maira asked. Cynan nodded; she shrugged and swapped stations with him.

Cynan sat. He stared at the radio set, deep in thought for a moment, before he took a steadying breath and pressed the call button.

‘Wasteland Jaeger’ he said. ‘Request the name and house of your captain, please?’

A moment passed. Then:

‘Fallen Star, this is Wasteland Jaeger. I am captain Valiant of House Eyes-To-The-Soul. To whom am I speaking?’ Cynan grinned and relaxed into the seat.

‘I am Cynan of House Lies-in-Shadow,’ he replied. ‘I am a Fated of Vaalhest, returning to pay penance for my crimes. In return I ask for a pardon for the house of Lies-in-Shadow, and a pardon for the Fallen Star and its crew, along with an escort to Vaalhest.’

A full half-hour passed, during which time the Jaeger and a sister ship came into view. Maira watched them on the horizon.

‘They don’t seem to be calling battlestations,’ she mused. ‘What did you do?’

‘Everything I could,’ Cynan replied. ‘I’m sorry, captain; I expect I will be unable to keep my promise about our duel.’

The radio crackled back into life.

‘Fallen Star,’ it said, ‘my apologies for the delay, and the initial misunderstanding. We would be happy to escort your ship and its crew personally to Vaalhest. We will have our field medics look at your injured straight away.’

Cynan stood and took the wheel.

‘Best you answer, captain,’ he said. ‘We don’t want them thinking I’m running the ship.’

‘Wasteland Jaeger,’ Maira replied, the relief evident in her voice. ‘Thank you for your offer, which we gratefully accept. If you have anyone who can fly the ship, we’re four crew who’ve been running at all hours to get here as soon as possible, we’d really appreciate it.’

‘We can do that, captain,’ the ship replied. ‘Sit tight – we’ll have some people over within the hour.’

The Wasteland Jaeger pulled alongside shortly, a crew of twelve Cannibals leaping over – unarmed, though for Cannibals that counted for a fully-armed battalion – and surefootedly clambering across rigging and along catwalks. They took Wilde across to the other ship, took over the engine bay, and two of them entered the helm. One of them took over at the wheel; the other stared at Cynan expectantly.

‘This is where we must part, captain,’ he said to Maira. ‘It has been an honour to serve aboard the Fallen Star one last time.’

‘Thank you Cynan,’ Maira replied. ‘For everything. Dismissed!’

Cynan nodded, a smile playing about his lips, as he was led away to the Wasteland Jaeger. Maira watched him go, before collapsing into the captain’s chair.