⇤First ←Prev Archive Next→ Latest⇥
Part 19: TRUST EXERCISE
The first twelve hours were okay. Maira dutifully held the wheel, keeping her heading fixed on the north star, and Cynan made himself known every few hours to radio an adjustment to Ham and to give Maira some coffee.
But as the night turned surely to dawn Maira found herself swaying, the pain in her legs and arms from holding the wheel steady all night long, and her gut was making itself uncomfortably known after several cups of coffee.
‘Captain?’
‘Cynan?’ Maira turned her head, but she did not see the Cannibal; instead Lance was hovering in the doorway, nervous but keen. Maira sighed. ‘Sorry Lance. What is it?’
‘Uh, well Cynan suggested you might need someone to watch the helm for an hour or so…’
Maira thought about it muzzily. It did make sense; she hadn’t slept all night, whereas Cynan had been helping out at the helm and in the bunkhouse, allowing Lance to get some sleep. But she worried at the level of control she was ceding to this stranger, on her ship, her ship! But was it even her ship? After all, she’d barely been flying it for ten days, and it had been her father’s before that. And in between it had spent thirty years rusting in a-
The ship gave a lurch as Maira came to her senses, and she turned gently and got out her compass to check the heading.
‘...Okay, yeah,’ she admitted, ‘I think a break would be a good idea. Here’s the compass, Lance; keep us pointing north, I’ll be back shortly.’
She darted from the room as soon as Lance took the wheel’s weight from her, racing for the Captain’s quarters. Twenty minutes later she was in the galley, pouring herself another coffee before taking the walk to Wilde’s bunkhouse. The wind picked at her coat and she shivered – it was getting cold fast. She took a gulp of coffee to warm herself and hurried through the door.
Wilde was lying in her bed, but this did not look like peaceful sleep: she was pale and sweating, and Cynan had adjusted her top so he could examine the wound on her side. Her stomach was bloated and he was gently pressing against it as Maira entered; she could see the pain evident on Wilde’s face.
‘This is not good,’ Cynan said quietly. ‘Captain, can you relate to me how she came by these wounds?’
‘She jumped off the end of Medicine Leaf’s port,’ Maira said. ‘Hit a few trees on the way down, lucky for her. I think she walked through a storm to reach our ship, too.’ She closed the door, leaning against it. ‘Is she okay?’
‘She’s alive,’ Cynan said, ‘but she is bleeding internally. She might have organ damage – I can’t treat this, medicine has never been my speciality.’
‘I… might know someone at Vaalhest who can help,’ Maira said. She was aware of how weak her legs felt, and she hated how slow her voice sounded coming out.
If Cynan noticed, he didn’t say anything. He hummed to himself, deep in thought.
‘At Vaalhest?’ he mused. ‘I believe I know the person you speak of. He should still be there – I’ve heard no news to suggest otherwise.’
He turned to face Maira, and his face fell.
‘Captain, you’re very pale,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’ Maira nodded and stood, though she felt herself swaying.
‘Been a while since I pulled an all-nighter is all,’ she said. Seeing Cynan’s concerned eyes, she sighed. ‘And I’ve not really been sleeping for a few days. A couple weeks,’ she added, when his frown only deepened.
‘Get some rest, Captain,’ Cynan said. ‘I will take over at the helm, you can return when you are awake.’
Maira was ashamed that her first response was to rest her hand on the hilt of her sword, and too tired to think of a second option. Cynan’s eyes went to it immediately; his bushy brows raised in shock, but he took a breath and nodded.
‘I understand,’ he said calmly. ‘You fear I am attempting to usurp your position? Perhaps steal your ship?’
Maira looked down at her sword and groaned.
‘I… It’s not that, I-’ she began, and sighed, thumping the door with a fist. ‘Stars! I’m sorry, Cynan; I’ve been paranoid since I started flying this bucket, I’m just not used to it yet. You’re right, I’m exhausted. Take the helm for a few hours; I’ll radio Ham and let him know.’
‘I’ll send Lance down here, he can look after Wilde while you sleep.’ Cynan approached, hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. ‘I know we have such little time together,’ he said. ‘But please allow me to earn your trust in that small window.’
Maira slid aside and Cynan left, striding purposefully through the door. As soon as he was gone, Maira slid to the floor and practically crawled to the radio.
‘Hey Ham,’ she said. ‘Cynan’s taking the helm for a few hours. Just so I can get some shut-eye. Lance’ll be in here with the two of us, so if anything should feel off just radio and he’ll wake me.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, captain?’ Ham asked. ‘I mean, it’s been a day and a half, I’m raring to go-’
‘Ham,’ Maira interrupted, ‘Trust me on this. It’ll be fine, but you know where to find us just in case.’
‘...Alright captain,’ Ham replied. The radio clicked off.
Maira awoke five minutes later when Lance shook her awake.
‘Whuzzat?’ she said, staring blearily about her. Lance glanced down at her, but his focus was on Wilde for the most part.
‘Cynan said to make sure you sleep in a proper bed,’ he said. ‘Is he-’
‘He’s taking the helm for a few hours,’ Maira said. ‘I’ve not been sleeping right, I’m not up to doing twenty-four hour shifts.’
‘Captain!’ Lance gasped. ‘I’m sorry captain, I didn’t know-’ he began, but Maira held up a hand.
‘No one did,’ she said. ‘I suspect everyone will by now. Just… I have reason to trust Cynan. He knows the score with humans, anyway. So… you don’t have to trust him, but trust me. Okay?’
‘Of course,’ Lance said. Maira nodded, then shed her jacket and lay down on a bunk opposite Wilde, covering herself with a blanket.
‘Wake me up in four hours,’ she said. ‘Or if Wilde takes a turn. Or if Ham calls. Or if Cynan goes crazy.’ She stared at Lance, who was beginning to quake. ‘Just wake me in four hours, okay?’
She turned over to face the wall, and was asleep by the time her eyes closed.
Cynan stopped by the engine bay on his way to the helm.
‘Mister Hamilton!’ he called; Ham turned, tightening his grip on his wrench.
‘Can I help you, Cynan?’ he said, not-quite-cordially. Cynan approached, but stayed out of arm’s reach.
‘I’ll be taking the helm for a few hours,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the captain has made you aware.’
‘Aye, she did.’ He stood and stared down Cynan, who returned his stare calmly.
‘You don’t trust me, do you, Mister Hamilton?’ Cynan smiled even as Ham’s frown deepened. ‘Did you fight in the war?’
‘I did!’ Ham snapped. ‘I was in the Naval Engineers when it was still controlled by the kings.’
‘And you crewed several vessels after the war,’ Cynan continued. ‘You had a spell on a prison ship, and after your release you found Dorian Deanfleet. You joined him on the Fallen Star.’
‘That’s right.’ Ham’s eyes widened, but then he glared at Cynan. ‘How did you know that?’
‘You won’t remember me,’ Cynan replied. ‘I served on the Fallen Star decades ago, when I was much younger and looked much different. You might call it my wild youth – I was never an engineer, but I lent a hand here and there.’
‘You…’ Ham gasped, taking an involuntary step back. ‘Well blast me, you’ve met me before!’ He looked close, and some set of the jaw or wave of the hair or spark in the eye set recognition in his eye. ‘God’s Thunder!’ he cried. ‘You weren’t one of Legate’s Hellions, were you?’ Cynan chuckled.
‘The very same.’ He bowed his head in recognition. ‘There are still a couple of us left. I remember you and Dorian both – it was a blow when he died, but we decided it was best not to attend the funeral.’
‘I understand that,’ Ham said. He leaned on his wrench as he rested one leg. ‘So why come back?’ he asked. ‘Why this ship?’
‘You know we don’t believe in luck,’ Cynan said. ‘Everything is fated – even myself. When I heard the Fallen Star was flying again, I figured it would turn north soon; and I dearly miss home.’
‘Well blow me down,’ Ham murmured. ‘A real surviving Hellion. And a Lies-in-Shadow too!’
‘I won’t ask you to trust me,’ Cynan sighed. ‘But I hold in this ship no ill-will, and I will guide her with a steady hand.’
‘You don’t… sound like a Hellion,’ Ham said. Cynan clicked his tongue and turned to leave; Ham reached out, but Cynan was gone.
After some cajoling from Cynan and Ham both, Lance let Maira sleep for six hours. When she awoke the sun was high in the sky, and she reached the helm out of breath, in a panic that she’d overslept.
‘All is fine, captain,’ Cynan said on her arrival. ‘Thank you for your concern; but I have it well in hand.’
‘Oh.’ Maira straightened up. ‘Good.’ She took a seat at the radio.
‘Do you know how to use your sword, captain?’ Cynan asked. Maira scoffed.
‘I’m not bad,’ she said. ‘I’m a bit out of practise though – it’s been sparring with whoever I can, whenever I can in recent years.’
‘I’m not bad with a sword myself,’ Cynan replied. ‘When we get to Vaalhest, if there is time before I die, I’d love to have a practise session.’ Maira grinned at the old Cannibal.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you up on that! Maybe after a day’s rest, though.’ Cynan chuckled.
‘I asked Ham and Lance to let you sleep a little longer,’ he said. ‘Forgive the impertinence; but my legs felt steady and I was able to manage a couple more hours at the wheel.’
‘Well let me take it from you for now,’ Maira said, getting to her feet and coming over. She aped his movements, trying to take the slack in the wheel and allow him to move away; he danced easily from her arms and sat heavily in the radio chair.
‘Your maps are all land maps,’ he noted. ‘You should ask your doctor friend for some air charts – they’ll be useful for navigation.’
‘Sure thing.’ Maira stared out of the window, then grunted as she realised she’d need her compass to tell where to go. ‘I, uh… I might ask you to teach me a few more things before we get to Vaalhest.’
‘I’ll show you what I can,’ he said. ‘But you have a good eye; you’re on your way there, Captain Deanfleet.’
‘Ugh, that makes me sound like dad!’ Maira made a face, but she could see Cynan’s reflection in the window; he looked sad. ‘You know,’ she continued, ‘you remind me of my first captain.’
‘Someone I might’ve known, if your father knew him,’ Cynan mused. ‘But let’s not talk on such things now. I’ll teach you what I can, and we’ll go from there.’
Cynan had volunteered to pilot the Fallen Star while Maira radioed Vaalhest about their arrival. The first transmission was routine:
‘This is Captain Deanfleet of the Fallen Star,’ Maira said, ‘requesting clearing to proceed to Vaalhest for landing.’
‘This is Vaalhest radio tower,’ the reply came. ‘Processing your request; continue on course and stand by for response.’
A response could take anywhere from ten minutes to several hours, so Maira did not wait.
‘I’m going to check on everyone,’ she said. ‘Radio if anything happens.’
The air was beginning to turn bitterly cold outside the ship. Maira glanced down at the keel, trailing in the tops of the clouds; it carved through a dip and she could see the crystal glitter of the frost which rimed the woodwork. Her eyes were fixed on it, until she reluctantly turned away to focus on her task.
Ham was in the engine bay, hard at work. As Maira arrived she heard the radio.
‘Two seconds on the light engine please, Mr Hamilton!’ Cynan’s speech came through clipped and clear, like a radio announcer.
‘Aye, Cynan!’ Ham replied. He fired the engine and Maira had to avert her eyes briefly; she blinked clear the spots from the light that spilled out of the engine, rubbing her eyes.
‘How are we looking, Ham?’ she called. Ham turned, shifting a pair of goggles down to his neck.
‘Looking good, captain!’ he replied. ‘I’ve not worked this hard in a while – I think I might need a week’s rest when we arrive!’
‘You’ll have earned it!’ Maira said. ‘It sounds like you’re getting on okay with Cynan – he cast some sorta spell on you? Bribe you?’ Ham sighed, kicking his feet.
‘Nah, nothing like that. He’s an old hand I shoulda recognised sooner – knew him from your father’s days, is all.’ Maira’s eyes widened and she took a step back.
‘Whoa, hold up – he’s served on this ship before?’ she asked. ‘He must’ve been a youngster!’
‘He was young for a Cannibal, but that doesn’t mean much. Part of a group of fearless warriors: Legate’s Hellions. They didn’t serve for long on the Fallen Star, but they were memorable!’
‘Legate’s Hellions?’ Maira nodded, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t know that one – I don’t think dad told stories about them.’ Ham chuckled and shook his head.
‘He wouldn’t,’ he replied. ‘This was in the early days – we were a lot more mercenary back then, pure piracy! The Hellions were a savage group, good for telling people we meant business. If you ran with the Hellions, people were less likely to fight you – they’d just surrender then and there, let you take what you wanted. It was a useful tactic: raise the Hellion flag, pillage and plunder, never have to risk a battle.’
‘So what happened?’ Maira asked. Ham shrugged.
‘Your dad got older and wiser,’ he said. ‘Or maybe more closed-minded. Decided he didn’t like the idea of running with a group of savage, mindless berserker Cannibals. Or maybe there were one too many attempted mutinies; in any case, he shipped ‘em off one port, dropped ‘em and ran! We thought they’d swear vengeance, chase him to the ends of the earth! But they went their way, we went ours, and I think we all ended up the better for it.’
‘Seems that way, if Cynan is still flying.’ Maira clapped a hand on Ham’s shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to trust him.’
‘It’s not him I need to trust, captain.’ Ham met her gaze steadily, smiling sadly.