The Airship Aurelia (The Aurelian Archives)

by Courtney Grace Powers

  “Then I'll take you up. Gid, spare?”

  Without missing a beat, Gideon reached behind his belt and spun an ALP out on his finger. Reece took it and turned its safety off. Now that Po had gone and mentioned The Kreft, he couldn't imagine their stowaway being anything but.

  “Not that I don't cherish my grandson's company, but mayhaps you ought’a split us up,” Mordecai said as he pushed his chair back with the boot resting on the edge of the table. “Divide your resources, as it were.”

  Reece glanced at Gideon, who nodded as if he hated to admit the old man was right, and said, “Fine. Gid, you take Po. Mordecai, you're with me.”

  As Po stood and hurried into Gideon's shadow, Mordecai reached casually into his coat, and from the holster beneath his arm, drew out his revolver. Reece was used to Gideon always fiddling with his, but it was a rare treat to see Mordecai's in plain light. His revolver was narrower down the barrel than Gideon's, and a patinaed silver where Gid's was a dark brass, but it worked the same, if not better. Mordecai had been forging guns for something like half a century, and he might not do much Handling nowadays, but…Reece had heard stories.

  Reece and Gideon advanced on the door together, Po ducking behind them, Mordecai bringing up their rear, and peered in opposite directions down the corridor. It was funny, but the hallway had seemed somehow brighter ten minutes ago, and shorter. Gesturing with his gun, Reece briskly started in the direction of the cargo bay. The quickest route to the bridge passed through there, and it'd be a good starting point for their hunt. Bleeding bogrosh, but he wished he had three a piece of Mordecai and Gideon. And even then…if their stowaway was Kreft…

  As the corridor opened up into the yawning cargo bay, Gideon hissed and threw out a long arm to block the others from passing.

  “What? What is it?” Po whispered, her voice high.

  Holding his breath and straining his ears, Reece could just barely hear what Gideon must have. He found his hand tightening around his ALP all on its own.

  Mordecai was at Gideon's shoulder in less than two breaths, his revolver raised in one gnarled hand. “Footsteps,” he said curtly.

  Clank…clank…clank…

  Without havin' to think about it, Gideon spread his feet, bent his knees, and twisted his torso to the side, so as to present less of a target to whoever else was out there. The first'a the four standard Handler stances, and the most basic, but his favorite.

  The footsteps on the overhead bridge paused; the steel hummed lightly, reverberatin'.

  “Could be one'a the others,” Mordecai mused.

  “No,” Reece said in a low, dangerous voice. His face looked fierce, set. They all had reason to hate The Kreft, but for Reece, it was personal. “Nivy's at the helm. Scarlet and Hayden are together. It's someone else.”

  Mordecai nodded, caught Gideon's eye, and jerked his head pointedly. Walkin' soundlessly on the balls’a his feet, Gideon slunk towards one'a the two staircases windin' up to the main bridge connectin’ starboard corridors to port. Mordecai took the second set. A quick backward glance showed Gideon that much as Reece wanted to come along, Po wasn't about to let him, be it for his protection, or hers. Her hands were clutchin' his arm like they'd been glued there.

  Gideon and Mordecai crested the stairs at the same time and faced each other across an expanse'a empty bridge. Mordecai raised his eyebrows, and with a click, rolled the barrel'a his revolver on its ball so it faced off at an angle. He paused before rollin' it again, back past its startin' position and to his left. All in less than three seconds, and with a kind’a lazy grace that Gideon had stopped tryin' to replicate a long time ago.

  “Maybe we've got engine rats. They come mighty big,” Mordecai said, straightenin' his barrel out, forearms taut.

  “Rats don't wear boots.”

  “So you've said before. I'm still not convinced.” Suddenly, Mordecai stiffened, and twitched his head to one side as if cockin' an ear. “You hear that? Sounded like—”

  And then he was droppin' into the third Handlin' stance—his front leg locked, his back leg bent, his torso squared—and aimin' his revolver right at Gideon's head. Instinct overcame shock; Gideon threw his left shoulder and rolled clear'a his grandfather's aim at the cost'a nearly divin' right off the bridge.

  Before he could pop up from the roll, someone dropped onto his back, wranglin' him from behind. He groped at the arm locked around his neck like a band'a steel. A pale white hand latched onto the fist he had on his revolver, curled around his index finger, and cranked till the revolver twisted outta his hand and clattered to the ground.

  Mordecai’s silver revolver went off with a grainy explosion that bounced around the cargo bay, and Gideon felt whoever was chokin' him flinch back a step. If Mordecai was firin' warnin' shots—he had to be, elsewise he wouldn't'a missed—then he couldn't get a bullet off without hittin' Gideon. Seemed Gideon was on his own.

  Holdin' to the arm around his neck like he would a pull-up bar, Gideon picked up his feet and kicked off the bridge's railin', throwin' his weight backward. It worked, kinda. The attacker on his back dropped out from behind him, but then Gideon's feet were pedalin' ground that wasn't there, and he was tumblin' heels over head down the steel stairs. He came to a slidin' stop on his side, feelin' as though he'd been hammered out on an anvil.

  “Look out!” Po's voice cried.

  Growlin', Gideon kicked into a crouch, grazin' a hand across the small'a his back and bringin' up his long belt knife. Then he went still. A dictionary's worth’a foul words sped through his head, but all he could do was stare like someone had clubbed him over the head and left him numptified.

  Owon the Vee, lanky, birdlike, and sickly pale, hovered over him with his long white hands spread. Gideon didn't know why Mordecai and Reece hadn't shot him as soon as they had a clear shot, but he wasn't gonna wait on them if they were gonna dally. He pounced, sweepin' the knife in a backward slash meant to split a throat clean open.

  Movin' so fast his features blurred, the Vee ducked beneath the slash and struck Gideon on the flat’a his chest with a thrustin' palm. The strike doubled Gideon over; he awkwardly spun and sidestepped to dodge the knee comin' for his face. With a shout, he back slashed again, this time drawin’ a thin line’a red across the Vee's left cheek.

  While the Vee was still startled—if Vees could be startled—Gideon grinningly went in for a killin' strike. Someone grabbed him around the middle and heaved him backward. He twisted to glare heatedly at Reece, who looked angry, if in that quiet way that meant it was really bad. Now that he was comin' down off the battle high, Gideon supposed he did remember hearin' the cap'n yellin' at him to stop more than once, though he couldn't fathom why.

  Mordecai had stepped into the gap between the Vee and Gideon. He was starin' at the Vee thoughtfully, and the Vee was starin' back, still not movin', not even to wipe at the bloody stripe on his cheek.

  “What're you bleedin' waitin' for?” Gideon barked. “Shoot it!”

  “Po,” Reece said simply.

  Gideon looked around and found Po standin' against the wall, awkwardly holdin' his revolver. “You don't gotta be angry with them. They wanted to shoot, but I told them not to,” she admitted, flushin'. “Couldn't you tell? He wasn't tryin' to kill you.”

  Gideon stared as he angrily thrust his knife home in its sheath. “Not tryin' to kill me? Did you miss the part with the chokin'?”

  “Po Girl's got a point, boy.” Mordecai's eyes didn't budge from the Vee. “If Owon here had really wanted to choke you, well, I expect it would'a been as easy as crushin' your throat. For some reason, he settled on disarmin' you.”

  Shakin' his head—was everyone outta their bleedin' minds?—Gideon reached for his gun, blinkin' when Po pulled back outta his reach. He wished it was easier to stay mad at her; the anger just wouldn't stick.

  “I'm not gonna give it to you just so's you can shoot him.”

  “I ain't gonna shoot him!”

  “He's lying,” Reece said
distractedly.

  The Vee’s upper lip curled as his black eyes finally slid to Reece. “We wish to speak to…the captain…alone.”

  As Gideon opened his mouth, Reece held up a hand to forestall him, and even though he didn't look his way, the hard set to his jaw and furrowin'a eyebrows said he wouldn't much appreciate Gideon's input just now. Gideon shut his mouth with difficulty.

  “I'm this close to telling Po to give Gideon his gun,” Reece told the Vee, “so spare me the creepy dramatics, and tell me what the bogrosh you’re doing here.”

  With a closed-lipped smile, the Vee dipped its head, acquiescent. “As you wish it, Reece Sheppard. Do you truly not know why we've come?”

  “Well, it sure as heck ain't for the food,” Mordecai coughed, elbowin' Po, who shot an unsure look at Reece before allowin' herself a small smile.

  “Trust me on this, Owon—”

  “Do not call us that,” the Vee spat, bristlin'.

  “—if we're unlucky enough to run into the other Veritas, we won't be pulling over to drop you off,” Reece continued. “We'll just shoot you out the airlock and see how far you float.”

  Drawin' a rattlin' breath—as if he had to calm himself—the Vee re-fixed his unfeelin' smile and took a smooth step forward. Gideon's knife rasped outta its sheath as Mordecai brought up his revolver and Po flinched back, her hands knotted over her stomach.

  “You are mistaken, Reece Sheppard. We would never seek our brethren. Not now. Not before our time. Not while we are…”

  It was Po, peerin' around Reece to look at the Vee with big brown eyes partway full'a fear and partway full'a pity, who finished his sentence. “You feel like you can't go back to them until you make up for what you did. You…you messed up. You're ashamed.”

  “We do not feel shame,” the Vee said coldly. “And we do not…mess up.”

  “No, I think Po's got it right.” Reece smiled unpleasantly. With a frown, Gideon shifted his feet. A bad feelin' had started gnawin' the bottom’a his stomach, makin' him wish badly for his gun. “Are you the first Vee to cave to questioning, Owon? That probably makes you a traitor, doesn't it? I wonder what the others will think, when they hear how little it took for you to give up all their—”

  The Vee sprang forward; Gideon dove. As Reece and the Vee crashed to the cargo bay floor, he wrenched his revolver outta Po's hands, then used the momentum’a snatchin' the gun to swing the barrel so it pointed left, at the back’a the Vee's white skull.

  A gunshot—not his—snapped, ringin' in his ears. Before the echo’a it had gone, Mordecai was marchin' forward, grabbin' the Vee by the back'a his jumpsuit collar, and draggin' him one-handed off'a Reece with a face like tempered steel.

  “We….we are shot,” the Vee realized, monotone, as he touched his bloody bicep.

  “Clever, this one,” Mordecai rumbled. As he spun his revolver into its cradle, he lifted a leg, planted his boot on the Vee's chest, and pinned him roughly to the floor.

  Realizin' he was grinnin' like a numpty, Gideon looked down at Po, who'd shuffled over to stand beside him. “He's scary when he's mad,” she whispered, then knelt beside Reece as he hoisted himself to his elbows, lookin' a little dazed.

  “And you,” Mordecai added dryly, “you're actin' a might plumb-headed yourself. We had a sayin', on Panteda. You don't hunt bears by dippin' your hand in honey.”

  Gruntin' and rubbin' his head as he leaned all the way upright, Reece replied, “No, but sometimes it's the quickest way to get the thing done, isn't it? Better to see how volatile he is now than wind up with an unpleasant surprise later.”

  Gideon wasn't all the way sure he knew what volatile meant, but it was the word later that caught his ear. “Cap'n,” he began slowly, “you ain't thinkin'a keepin' it? It as good as said it followed us just so it could get back in the other Vees' good graces. Mightn't that mean killin' us, if it can?”

  As he stood, Po unnecessarily helpin' him up, Reece shook his head and winced. “It might. I don't know, Gid. I need to think this one through. I'm still not totally resigned to killing him because it's the easiest thing to do.” The Vee made a sound, and Reece smirked down at him. “Besides, what would we do with the body?”

  “Try if you will to frighten us,” the Vee told him, his breathin' strained, “but you will not succeed. Neither death nor pain elicits fear in the Veritas.”

  “Maybe you just haven't felt the right kinda pain yet,” Gideon suggested helpfully.

  Hurried footfall slapped against the hardwood floor, heraldin' Aitch's arrival. He stumbled into the cargo bay with his black medical bag in hand and his scarf trailin' on ground behind him.

  “I heard gunfire,” he panted, then froze, noticin' the Vee. He paled. “Oh dear. Where did…well, never mind that for now. Is anyone hurt?” Reece nodded, pointin' with his chin, and Aitch sighed. “Of course. It would have to be him.” Despite his words, he came forward and hovered nervously between Po and Gideon, halfway to the Vee.

  “I want him put under before you work on him, Hayden,” Reece said, watchin' Aitch's face. “In fact, I'm insisting on it.”

  Writhin' under Mordecai's foot—Gideon nonchalantly followed the movement with his revolver, just in case—the Vee said, “Keep your medicine and your needles. The serum shall heal us.”

  “Then why have you been stealing medical supplies? It was you, wasn’t it?” Aitch asked, tiltin' his head confusedly. Rather than answer, the Vee bared his teeth in a grimace and turned his head away.

  “Mordecai,” Reece said, “escort Owon down to the infirmary with Hayden, and stay put. I'll send Gid along to relieve you in a couple of hours.”

  As Mordecai picked the Vee up then steered it along in front’a him with his revolver, Hayden followin' and lookin' pretty unenthusiastic, Reece turned to Gideon with his arms crossed. That rock wall expression was back; Gideon braced himself.

  “If Owon tries anything,” Reece began in a voice that was hard even while it was soft, “if he so much as pushes any of my crew, you shoot him.” Just as Gideon started to feel hopeful, the cap'n stepped up to his chest. His fierce glare could'a wilted flowers. “But if you shoot him before I give the order, I will have you doing meal cleanup and garbage duty for the rest of this bleeding trip. Are we perfectly, one hundred percent, no-loopholes clear?”

  Gideon thought it through, thought about how he'd be goin' to relieve Mordecai in a little while and weighed wantin' the Vee dead against hatin' garbage duty, and jerkily nodded. Reece had never been able to set his teeth on edge like this.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “But just you remember, if he does try somethin', and he gets his hands on someone, on Po, or Aitch, it's gonna be your fault for not listenin' to me when you had the chance.”

  He expected to get a good rise outta Reece with that one, but surprisingly, it only made him smile grimly and shake his head. He suddenly looked bone-weary tired as he pushed a hand through his brown hair.

  “I know, Gid. Trust me, I know.”

  Once the cap'n had left for the bridge and it was just Gideon and Po still in the cargo bay, she pushed him lightly and frowned.

  “You don't gotta go at him so,” she said unhappily. She gave her braid a tug as she stared after Reece. “He's just tryin' to do what's right.”

  Watchin' her watch Reece go, Gideon grunted and thrust his revolver roughly into its holster. “The right thing would be to put a bullet in the Vee's brainpan before it can do any more damage than's already done.”

  “And what if you were right about what you said to Reece back on Honora? About Liem, and everythin'? Is it really so bad'a him to want to give Owon the second chance he might'a given Liem?”

  “If Liem really was a Vee, he deserved what he got,” Gideon said harshly, then regretted it. Cringin', he looked up to make sure Reece really had gone. Didn't matter if he and the cap'n were at odds…there were some things that were better left unsaid, even if everyone knew them.

  Po shuffled the bright red boots he'd given her
with a sigh. “I know what Cap'n said to you about touchin' Owon…but do you think maybe you could promise me you won't hurt him, too? I know it don't make sense…but I just feel sorry for him. He believes so hard in what Eldritch made all the Vees believe, he doesn't have room left in him for anythin' else. He might'a never had the chance to be anythin' but what he is. It's sad, to me.”

  Blowin' out a breath as he scratched the back’a his head, Gideon grudgingly shrugged, cavin' to Po's big-eyed look. Between the threat'a garbage duty and the thought'a disappointin' her, he didn't see any way he could still off the Vee in good conscience.

  “I think you might be able to see the good side of a rain cloud,” he grumbled as he started for the galley. He meant to submerge himself in some porridge and burnthroat.

  Skippin' along beside him, Po brightly said, “That's easy. It brings the rain.”

  IX

  Owon to the Rescue (If He Doesn’t Kill You First)

  Reece frowned, toggling the controls to the left of the yoke to dim the cockpit light. Going by his pocket watch, it was dawn, Honoran time. Nivy looked over at him as his sigh turned into a yawn and raised her eyebrows. She was wearing a gold scarf like a cowl up over her hair, keeping her ears from the cold Reece could feel prickling through his jacket.

  “No,” he answered her questioning look. “We're nearly there.”

  Aurelia was coming up fast on Leto, and in order to exit the Euclid without being torn to shreds by the deceleration, he needed to get her engines warmed up to the right speed for reentry. Besides, Nivy wasn't all that better off, as far as being sleep-deprived went. With Gideon taking turns watching Owon, they were both pulling extra hours at the helm.

  At the thought of Owon, Reece bumped his head back against his seat and barely stopped another yawn-slash-sigh. It would've been nice if his tutors at The Owl had thought to warn him that becoming captain meant inviting everything to go wrong. Now he had a broken turbine, a freezing ship, a Vee for a passenger, and a crew expecting him to make the right decision—their opinions all differing on what that might be, of course.