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Part 13: CRASH SITE
The jungle stretched endlessly in all directions.
Wilde walked, half-stumbling, half-limping, tired and cold and hungry. She had some idea of how lost she was, but she had to keep going.
She clutched the bag to her chest still. She’d checked the rifle after the fall; it was, predictably, in pieces. The scope was shattered and there was a large crack in the stock, but the metal and mechanisms had held up well enough. A few parts would need bending back into shape to slot it back together, but when she got somewhere with tools she could do that quickly enough.
She’d also found the hidden base in the duffel bag and moved it aside. She’d replaced it quickly afterwards, but not before pocketing a few coins; it didn’t fit quite right after the fall, and she worried about losing everything if someone found out.
She’d covered her face and curled up as she fell. Branches had whipped at her arms and legs, slowing her until she’d hit one that stopped her; it had badly bruised her side, and she was worried about the continued pain she was experiencing from it. After that, she’d bounced from branch to branch until she hit the underbrush, where she’d lain for several minutes before gathering her senses and getting to her feet. The bag had followed her down and lay nearby; she had gathered it up and sprinted into the jungle, away from the docks.
That had been last night. Now it was late in the day, and Wilde hadn’t eaten since dinner the evening before. She’d tumbled down muddy banks, snagged her jumper on countless branches, and run headlong into at least two spiderwebs; but she continued doggedly, keeping as much as possible to the same heading. She was aware how easy it was to get lost in this jungle – whole expeditions from the university had disappeared before – but she had little choice; it was either trust her luck, or wait to be picked up by a patrol of umbrella men.
She picked her way over a cluster of fallen trees. The storm had rolled through shortly after she’d started walking, drenching her in freezing rainwater and making the route muddy and precarious. She’d been lucky that the winds had abated somewhat; they had still been gale-force, but not powerful enough to bowl her over. Though the storm had been and gone its path was clear; trees had been uprooted, the ground had been washed of brush, and the mud was pocked with divots in which rainwater pooled, turning the ground into a quagmire. Wilde skirted the area as much as possible, heading around it to the left where she saw more firmly-rooted trees and fewer fallen trunks to impede her.
As she was picking her way around the mud, she heard voices to her left.
Wilde paused, listening out. They were hard to make out, distant, but she heard them.
The ground sloped away, the way steep and treacherous, but there were plenty of trees still standing here; Wilde slid from tree trunk to tree trunk, getting closer to the sound.
‘Alright, let’s try left again!’ Someone looking at a map? Were they lost too? She couldn’t see anything, but she noted where the ground levelled out again – there were likely people there.
‘That’s left? No, something’s definitely not right.’
So… not directions. A ship, perhaps? Wilde slid down, and now there were slight gaps between the trees. She saw the bulk of a ship, its bell bright against the grey sky.
‘Okay, give us a strong right… Yeah, it’s still going to port, I think we busted the linkage.’
Wilde lost her footing.
She cried out as she slid the last several feet, finding no purchase in the slick mud, and she rolled to a stop at the edge of the trees.
Wilde shook herself and got to her feet, clutching the duffel bag close.
She was at the edge of a clearing, what had been a wide, treeless expanse even before the storm. Where had been grasses and meadow flowers there was now a muddy gouge, where an airship listed to one side. On this side, unbroken, a leg like an enormous axehead gleamed as it splayed out. The other stuck half-buried, the support that tied it to the ship splintered and crooked, in the mud. Up above the bell fluttered, ragged and pocked with holes.
And in front of the ship, staring at Wilde, was a woman.
She wore her hair in a short ponytail. Her face was care-worn and weather-beaten, and her arms were tanned from years above the cloud layer. Her leg was heavily-bandaged and splinted, and she took a limping step towards Wilde. Her hand strayed to a box at her belt and she brought a mouthpiece up to her lips almost absently.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘There’s a girl out here.’
Wilde took a faltering step back. Then a pain shot through her knee, and another shot up her side, and the toll of the past day caught up with her.
She sank away into a dead faint, and the last thing she saw was the woman, running towards her…
Maira laid Wilde on an empty bunk in the crew quarters. It had taken her and Ham both to bear her up to the ship, but Maira shut him out as soon as she was on board. She pressed her hand against Wilde’s brow – it was hot to the touch. Taking her time, she patted down Wilde’s body, checking her face for reaction; her eyes screwed shut when Maira’s hands grasped her sides. She slid the jumper up, noting the large bruise on Wilde’s midriff, and continued. Wilde flinched and cried out when Maira’s hand brushed her knee; Maira shifted up her trouser leg, seeing more bruising and swelling to her knee. She noted those and saw little else.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ Maira said. She stood up, stepping back and folding her arms. To her surprise, it was Lance who entered.
‘Captain,’ he said, saluting quickly. Maira waved him down and he stood at ease, searching around hesitantly for the right words. Maira stared at him, then rolled her eyes.
‘Out with it, kid,’ she said shortly.
‘I just… should we be letting a stranger onto the ship like this?’ he asked. ‘Not that it’s my position, captain, but in the navy we’d have a brig and-’
‘Lance,’ Maira answered, ‘this is not a navy ship. I don’t have the luxury of a brig, and I doubt a ninety-pound girl is going to pose a problem for three experienced airmen. Dismissed.’
‘Actually, do you mind if I stay with her?’ Lance pressed. Maira started.
‘Why do you want to stay with her?’ she asked. Lance kicked his feet and avoided her gaze.
‘Well I know a little first aid, and I thought it might be a good idea to stay with her. Y’know, in case she’s got a concussion or something!’ His eyes met Maira’s then, and he coloured.
Maira stared at him, trying not to smile.
‘This navy ship you were on, the Aurelian? Were there many girls in the cadet corps?’
‘Well none, really, captain,’ Lance said, going even brighter red. Maira shook her head.
‘She’s a patient, Lance,’ she said. ‘I’m not leaving her alone with anyone else. I’ll stay with her – I’ve helped enough sawbones on ships to figure a few things. But you can bring me the first aid kit, and help me set her leg – I think she’s broken her knee, and there’s some bruising on her side which might also be some internal bleeding, so we might need to figure out how to fix that too. In fact, get Ham down here too; he’s been doctored on enough times he might actually know what to do about that.’
Lance scurried out, and Maira waited until the door had slammed shut before she sank down on a separate bunk and sighed. She stared at Wilde, steepling her fingers.
‘Where did you come from?’ she asked.
In short order, Lance returned with Ham in tow. Ham entered and saluted, then dropped Wilde’s duffel onto the floor, where it clinked.
‘You’re gonna want to see what’s in here, captain!’ he enthused. Maira groaned.
‘It can wait,’ she insisted. ‘Do you know anything about internal bleeding?’
In the end there was little they could do about the bruising. Lance and Ham splinted the leg, and they brought the bag back to the galley. Maira emptied the rifle parts out onto the table and pored over them.
‘Interesting setup,’ she mused. ‘Concealable, but clunky – this was destined for an accomplished marksman, but it had to get through security… is this where Medicine Leaf is at? Open revolution?’
‘If it were open I doubt they’d need a concealed rifle,’ Ham retorted. ‘But that’s not the most interesting thing – look.’ he indicated the bottom of the duffel.
Maira leaned in. No, not the bottom. A false base which concealed another compartment. She pulled up the material and looked at it.
‘Just a simple false base?’ she murmured. ‘How did you spot this?’
‘Oh, I would’ve missed it,’ Ham admitted. ‘Except one of the corners was bent. It didn’t look right.’
Maira stared at it. The material, whatever it was, gave the illusion of false depth – were it not for the crooked corner, which spoiled the illusion, anyone looking in from above would see it as only the bottom of the bag.
‘That’s not the best part!’ Ham said. He dipped his hands into the bag and came up with handfuls of coins, which he let pour back in with a cheery clinking.
‘Holy shit.’ Maira discarded the false base and pulled open the bag; gold coins were piled up almost to where the base fit snugly, their gold glitter played over Maira’s face and enthralled her.
‘There must be nearly a thousand fins in here!’ she breathed. She reached in with a hand and pulled out a coin – they were gold plate over nickel, lighter than pure gold but safer for the public to handle. These ones were stamped with a syringe backed by two fronds, the symbol for Medicine Leaf.
‘That’s a nice payout for us!’ Ham said, smiling a catlike smile.
Maira shook her head. She dropped the coin back into the bag and picked it up.
‘We’re not taking any of it,’ she said. She picked up the false bottom and dropped it back in.
‘What are you doing?’ Ham cried. ‘That’s nearly a thousand fins!’
‘And we’re not thieves,’ Maira said. She put the rifle parts back into the bag. ‘The money belongs to that girl and we’re not just taking it.’
Ham stared at her.
‘I’m putting this in with the girl,’ she continued. ‘Lance, come with me.’
Lance saluted and followed at her heels.
As she strode along the gangway, Lance had to half-run to keep up.
‘I’m proud of you, captain,’ he said. ‘You did the right thing.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ Maira said, ‘because you’re looking after this.’ She dumped the bag into his arms; he stumbled back and stared at it, holding it out at arms length.
‘Me? Really? W-with the illegal weapon and the… the hidden gold and everything?’ He ran after Maira, shadowing her as they reached the bunkhouse.
‘Someone needs to make sure the girl doesn’t choke on her own vomit and die,’ Maira said. ‘Since you seem to trust me, I’ll extend that trust in return. Look after her, look after the bag. Ham and I will be fixing up the ship.’
She opened the door and ushered him in. As he tried to stammer up and excuse, Maira took the radio from her belt and shoved it on top of the bag.
‘Let me know as soon as she’s awake.’
With that, she shut the door, turned on her heels, and returned to the galley.
Where Ham was drinking a coffee and looking at the ledgers. He kept up this charade until Maira shut the door with a quiet click.
‘Now listen here, Maira,’ he began. ‘That’s a lot of fins you’re kissing goodbye, as soon as the girl gets on her feet she’ll probably rob us blind and-’
‘How heavy are you?’ Maira asked. Her shoulders were low, her hands balled into fists.
‘What?’ Ham blinked. ‘What’s that got to do with the price of eggs? Look, just think about what a thousand fins could buy-’
‘How heavy?’ Maira took a step forward, put her hands on her sword belt. Ham deflated.
‘I dunno, Maira, I don’t check these things!’ He threw his hands up, exasperated. ‘Look, this is about the money-’
‘About three hundred? And you’ve got a bad back, you walk slow, and you’re nearly twice my age.’
‘Well there’s no call to get mean-’ Ham began, but his retort was strangled by a yelp as Maira leapt the table and grabbed him by the collar with both hands. ‘Hey! What’s the big idea?’
‘The big idea is this!’ Maira yelled, forcing him against the counter. ‘I’m faster than you, stronger than you, and thundering wings I am much, much angrier than you! You might have paid for the provisions, but don’t you forget this is my ship! And you won’t see a return on your investment until you get that fact into your thick head and you fall in line!’
Ham froze, hands half-up in defence. There was dead silence, save for the sound of Maira’s laboured breathing; her dark eyes were wild and bloodshot, her lips drawn back in an animal snarl. He took a breath and let it out slowly.
‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re right – I was being stupid about the money. I’m sorry.’ Maira stared at him, seeing his old, sad eyes, his hunched frame, his calloused hands. She felt the fight leave her body; she deflated, her head sinking into his shoulder, hands gripping his collar still tighter, and she heaved as sobs began to wrack her body.
Ham, wide-eyed, unused to any display of emotion, did the only thing he could think of at the time.
‘There, there,’ he said quietly, awkwardly, as he patted Maira’s back. ‘It’ll be alright.’
‘I’m sorry!’ Maira gasped when she could speak. ‘I’m sorry Ham.’
Hamish manoeuvred her into a chair and sat beside her. She held her head in her hands, her body still shaking with the pent-up emotion.
‘I can’t do this, Ham,’ she said. ‘I thought I could, but I can’t. Out here I’ve got nothing, you understand? There’s no direction, there’s no plan, it’s just me on my own.’
Ham closed his eyes, nodded. He was on firmer ground here.
‘You think you’ve got to be infallible,’ he said. ‘You think, because you’re captain, the crew has to jump at your beck and call, and you’ve gotta get those calls right every time.’
‘I could never do it,’ she murmured. ‘When I was duty captain I always prayed for a quiet night, I panicked whenever anyone asked a question.’ She leaned back on the chair, turned her tear-streaked face to him. ‘I’m not cut out for this.’ Ham leaned forward and patted her knee.
‘You’re not the only one,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been busting your balls, Maira; I ran with your father so long I knew his every move before he made it. I’ve been anticipating the wrong things, making the wrong choices, and misinterpreting orders this whole time. I’ve been thinking it was Dorian Deanfleet back at the helm, but you’re not him. And you don’t have to be.’ He sat back and crossed his arms. ‘I’m not a banker or a financier. I don’t know how an investment like this works. But we both signed the contract and I paid up for the food and equipment, so we’re in this now. I’ve given you a year to make me a profit – you won’t hear from me about it from now on, not until that year’s nearly up. And I’ll be mindful that you’re a new captain, and try to help you as best as I can on that front too.’
Maira looked like she might burst into tears all over again, but she took a deep breath and nodded.
‘I’m sorry, Ham,’ she said. ‘I was so scared of going out on my own, I got you tied up in it. And now we’re both in deep and neither of us knows what we’re doing. I’m gonna foul up and make mistakes and probably cost us some crew and some coin; but I’ll take what advice I can from you and I’ll listen when you’re willing to share some expertise.’
‘I think that’s as good a compromise as we can come to,’ Ham said. He clapped her on the shoulder. ‘Good! Because we’ve got a ship to fix and you need to know how to fix it!’
‘Alright Ham.’ Maira smiled and stood, wiping her nose on her arm. ‘Let’s get to fixing. Show me what you know.’