She watched as the girl eyed her, no doubt likewise considering her motives. “Eh, at this point, what do I have to lose?” She shrugged heavily, accompanying it with a deep sigh. “I need a job because food is pretty awesome, most days, and the Altairans said I should find something to occupy my time with. So yeah, you could say I’m pretty interested. And no, I’m not just ‘a pilot’. I’m the best pilot. Ever.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, which again creaked in a rather worrisome manner until she managed to balance her weight on the back legs, beaming pridefully behind her boast.
Shifting her weapons to a more comfortable position, Branwen returned the pilot’s prideful grin with a deadpan expression of her own. “That is indeed a mighty boast. However, I have heard it from three other pilots before you. The first could not lift my ship off of the ground, and the other two could not even start its engines.”
The girl’s chair came back down with a loud crack, a shard of wood splintering off of one of the legs from the sharp impact, sailing over the starport’s railing and spinning off into the sand below. Her eyes wide with surprise, she sputtered out, “Three...?” Her previously unwavering confidence seemed to simmer down just a little before surging blatantly back to the surface. “Well, whatever. They were all wrong, because I am the best pilot ever, and I can fly your ship. I can fly any ship.” She lifted her chin as her ego reasserted itself, though this time she refrained from testing the chair’s durability and left herself seated in an ordinary, upright position.
Branwen kept the seriousness of her level, sapphire gaze on the girl a bit longer before she replied. A person that was just trying to make herself sound good would usually wilt under extended scrutiny, but one who truly believed in herself and had the confidence to carry forward would stay defiant. This woman met her gaze and held it, proving that she leaned more toward the latter. “Well, there is but one way to find out, is there not?” She broke the more serious expression with a sudden smile, rising from her chair. “As long as you still have need, and I also have need, it seems like our crossing of ways is a boon. I have but one concern; you have no trouble with the Altairans, have you? I have little desire for that particular breed of problem.” Branwen extended a hand partway, an offering that contained both a welcome and conditional agreement that hinged on the girl’s response.
1.3- Merlo
Merlo tilted her head at the extended hand with a mildly confused expression, failing to realize at first that the odd, blond-and-braided stranger wanted her to do that unusual greeting-thing she’d seen all over the Altairan port, where one individual would grasp the other’s hand and move them together in a vertical pattern. She’d thought at first it was some form of civil wrestling, but realized later on that it was just one strange way these people said “hello.”
She lifted her hand, offering to mimic the gesture, hoping the other woman wouldn’t realize she’d never even attempted it before. Unexpectedly, however, the woman stepped closer, clasping Merlo’s forearm in her much larger grip and squeezing it with a surprising firmness for someone of her size. It caught Merlo off guard, causing her to pause as she spent a couple of seconds staring at the odd grip and trying to return it as smoothly as possible while actually feeling rather off-balance and out of place. “What? Oh, no. If anything, they’re in trouble with me… I mean, they destroyed my ship. So they’re just trying to figure out what to do to make it up to me. Or something like that. But they’re taking forever to get it all done. So in the mean time, I figured I would just get some sort of job and find somewhere to stay.”
The larger woman nodded firmly. “Then, perhaps, if you are as good as you do say, we can work together, and I can thusly provide you with both.” She squeezed the forearm and shook it again, seeming to encourage Merlo to follow along with the gesture. “I am called Branwen, of house Hawke.”
Merlo felt her grip settle into the taller woman’s strangely reassuring grasp. “Branwen… Hawke.” She repeated uncertainly, then nodded firmly. “You can call me Merlo.”
At the end of the strange arm-gripping ritual, Branwen turned, gesturing for Merlo to follow, and she did, falling into stride behind Captain Branwen as if it were habit—which, in a way, it was. She also took this opportunity to better size up her new companion, as well as to banish the last remnants of her anger from the lingering irritation of her encounter with those “portal” guards.
Branwen was a tall woman, with golden hair tied back in an odd style with one thick braid hanging long in the back, another braid on the left side, and the rest of her hair hanging loose on the right, all fastened with what looked to be bits of carved stone or possibly even bone. She didn’t look like anything Merlo could relate to from her own world, now so very far away. Branwen wore a coat of a heavy dark brown material, fairly common to what she'd seen so far on whatever stars-forsaken planet this was, but it didn't seem entirely to fit her. It did seem to mostly conceal the melee weapon on her side and whatever weapons she had on her back, which Merlo assumed was its main purpose; after all, Merlo's weapons were always hidden or obvious, depending on how you wanted to look at it, which served her well enough.
The main thing that truly stood out about Branwen was her size. A person that big had to be horribly physically weak, yet she carried strength-based weapons, as well as a sense of calm confidence that, to Merlo's mind, only came from someone who had seen either combat or extensive training like her own. And that was all aside from the fact that her handshake had been unsettlingly firm for someone of her proportions.
The absurdity of the whole thing made Merlo shake her head, almost bringing a smile to her face, but not quite. Why did everything have to be so damned backwards in this cluster? “It's right down here. I tried to park it towards the back end- it seems to get too much attention otherwise.” Branwen's quiet yet resonant voice jarred Merlo from her thoughts, and she glanced over her again, nodding sharply in acknowledgment. The woman was pretty enough, she supposed, even if she couldn't really place her age; Merlo figured she could be anywhere from twenty to forty as far as she knew, with a strong jawline and piercingly clear blue eyes alongside a clean, fair complexion.
She was definitively female; the heavy coat blunted some of Branwen's bodily curves well enough, but did little to conceal a rather... notable bust. Merlo wondered idly how someone could possibly fight without those things getting in the way, as the unlikely pair turned off of the broad, more heavily populated main strip onto a narrower side dock.
“Here she is,” Captain Branwen said, gesturing, and Merlo's eyes and thoughts were drawn outwards and upwards towards the docked star vessel.
Now this was more like it; she could see how this ship could stand out, and not just because of its size, crowding and towering over the other adjacent vessels as if they actively cowered from it, easily more than two and a half times the mass of the next largest one. Also unlike those vessels, it didn’t seem to have the standard landing gear design she’d seen so far (or the lack of any, as in some cases). Rather, it had several segmented “legs” with which it clutched the dock, giving it a vaguely insectile appearance, as if it crouched there temporarily but might at any moment deign to leap off of the end of the dock and soar off into the depths of space of its own accord.
But most of all, it was the first thing she’d seen that actually looked like it might be a real starship, instead of these clunky... things she kept seeing that she’d hardly trust not to fall to pieces on re-entry. At least, you know, since those stupid Altairan automated defenses had blown her own ship apart.
The back of the vessel folded neatly open to greet them, extending a metallic ramp leading up into what appeared to be a cargo bay. The Captain led the way in, gesturing again for her to follow, and Merlo tried to place the function of the vessel. It had polished, blue-hued metal plating, medium armor, and no visible weaponry. So probably not a combat ship, despite all of the hull scraping that indicated a handful of significant impacts. It was blockier an
d more segmented than she was used to, with a rather large engine array. Something fast. Perhaps a transport or a cargo vessel? Not as streamlined as she’d expect, nor the sleek, spartan designs her people favored so as to make full use of every resource.
Stepping inside, she likewise marveled at all of the extra space- the mostly empty cargo bay seemed cavernous by her standards, and could have easily belonged to an Arlesian ship thrice its size, a fact exacerbated by its meager population consisting of a scattered handful of crates. From her initial look around, the ship seemed clean, sturdy, furnished in more of that steely blue with accents of charcoal and black, and lit with an ambient pure blue-white light that clearly illuminated the interior without being abrasive to her eyes.
Straight ahead, they approached and ascended a narrow set of stairs with a sturdy railing, continuing into a hallway big enough for maybe four of her people to walk abreast. The main passage went both forward and back from there, and from what she could see, the doors to either side seemed to lead into the med-bay and a mess hall, or whatever these people called it. Glancing back down the hall, she noticed a door which, from its position in the ship, likely led to the engine room. Curiously enough, it seemed to be ever so slightly ajar.
“The medicinal chamber is right here, that is what passes for our dining hall and kitchen, and here there is one row of personnel quarters on either side of the stairway to the cargo area.” The Captain’s voice captured her attention. “The pilot’s area is up ahead. It is pretty nice, from what I understand; let us see what you can do with it,” She continued, confirming most of Merlo’s guesses, if not their exact placement.
Their booted feet fell with relative silence on the softer, covered strip that ran the length of the main hall of the starship as they walked the twenty meters or so to the sliding bridge door. Only the very barest of electronic humming intruded into the otherwise complete quiet; the ship’s hull kept out all the exterior noise of the Koltani stardock, leaving it to just that sound and whatever noises she and Branwen brought with them.
All the panels and displays flicked on by themselves as they entered, soft blues and greens inset onto the shiny, pitch black of their touch screens and controls. It was dimmer in here than in the rest of the ship, probably to help one focus properly, and the light given off by those panels formed the majority of the ambient light in the room. There appeared to be few to no holographic displays, but other than that, it didn’t look so bad. It was overall closer to a ship’s bridge than the cockpit layout she was used to, with plenty of space for them to stand, and a lot of room still to spare. Still foreign to her for the moment, of course, and definitively different from what she trained on for so long, but comparable enough that, if she could just have a moment…
1.4- Branwen
Branwen paused speaking as Merlo slid into the pilot’s seat; she wasn’t sure the small girl was really listening to her at the moment, anyway. Not offended, she instead fell silent and watched as Merlo ran her hands slowly along the various displays and controls that did Fade-knew-what. It was a miracle they’d even managed to retrieve the ship, after all; neither she nor Mr. Leonard could really be mistaken for pilots. Under Merlo’s touch though, more panels than she had even known were there flickered to light and life, the displays in question beginning to shift and change and the hum of the ship’s power stirring and rising in volume as it awakened more fully.
The vibration of energy rose from the engines as the ship roared to life, and from underneath, she could feel the slight tremble of the vessel’s landing “legs” as they seemed to tense in anticipation of launch. But Merlo just casually eased the controls back down to their original positions, lulling the ship back into its prior state of rest.
From the pilot’s chair, the girl’s face split in an excited grin as she turned part of her attention back to Branwen. “So what’s her name?” She asked, her eyes and face conveying the “I told you I could do it” that her words did not.
“Whose name— oh, you mean the ship,” Branwen replied, thoroughly infected by Merlo’s smile. “We actually do not have one for her, as of yet.” She knew that had to seem pretty odd, but her young pilot gave no reply except a mildly raised eyebrow. “Give me a minute, and I will call Mr. Leonard up here to speak about it. He is our vessel’s engineer.” She offered by way of explanation. Hopefully he feels up to that, she reflected. I do so hate to stress him, but…
On the second try, she hit the correct button for the communication system. Hopefully it was even the one for the right room. Hopefully. “Mr. Leonard, will you please come to the bridge? I need you to meet someone, and we have something to discuss.”
She was rewarded a moment later with a hesitant, young-sounding male voice over the channel she’d opened. “Um, sure, yes—I mean, of course, Captain. I’ll… I’ll be right there.” A few moments later, Merlo rose to her feet as the door to the bridge slid open once again, permitting the entry of Branwen’s other crew member.
Mr. Leonard’s youth undercut even Merlo’s apparent age. Branwen, as always, would place him at sixteen winters at the most. His age was almost in opposition to his attire, soft green eyes peering timidly from his youthfully handsome face above a rather nice charcoal dress shirt, silvery gray vest, and well-tailored dark pants and shoes, all obviously of a high quality. He brushed feathery, pale-blond hair, expertly cut to frame his face, back into place as he hesitated in the doorway. Despite all of Branwen’s efforts and forewarning, he was still obviously nervous at meeting someone new.
“Y-yes, Captain?” He asked, his soft voice stumbling slightly over the words. Branwen watched as he clasped his arms behind his back and shifted slightly from foot to foot. “You called?” He peered nervously at the newcomer as she approached him.
“Mr. Leonard, I would like to introduce Merlo. She shall be our new pilot, if she is willing to fly for us.” Branwen stated, seemingly to the approval of the girl. “Mr. Leonard here is our engineer. And a finer one I have never seen.” Not that she’d seen many, but she hoped that her prospective pilot wouldn’t catch that.
Branwen smiled at her engineer, adding extra reassurance into the expression in the hope that some of it would sink in, then turned her questioning face back to Merlo. “So, then, what say you? We have but a single favor to repay here on Koltan, and after that, we are good to pick up some cargo and simply journey forth. We just need a good pilot, whom I feel I can trust that can also actually fly our ship. Which, hopefully, is you.” She felt she’d taken a good measure of the girl during their interactions so far. Branwen knew that she was a pretty strong judge of character; to her, Merlo felt like a woman with a lot of pride and drive, the sort of person she would once have accepted into her personal guard, the kind of girl with willpower and a fire inside her that would push her to ever greater heights.
Merlo considered for a moment, though her head was already slowly nodding. “The best pilot in the ‘Verse, the finest engineer you’ve ever seen… seems like destiny abounds. Count me in.” The girl’s cheek climbed gradually into a lopsided smile. “Captain Branwen, you’ve got yourself a pilot.”
“You know, I rather like that phrasing.” Branwen mused with budding inspiration. Mr. Leonard nodded his head also, presumably in agreement.
Merlo tilted her head as if surprised. “What, the whole ‘destiny’ thing? That's just something I picked up, from back home I think.”
“Well, if you do not mind me borrowing it, I think it sounds like an excellent name for a starship.”
CHAPTER TWO
Caged
Prisoner 286
Prisoner number 2-8-6 sat at the little metal desk in a tight, dimly lit room, limbs heavy from the dense metal of the chains and manacles that restricted her movement down to just shy of nothing. There were no guards or even decor inside the small room with her. Nothing but blank metallic walls, and her little table and chair that were probably sized for Altairans, typical Urzrans, or some other relatively short people. Not eve
n a window showing her the black void of space; they’d learned that lesson several years back.
Her neck still ached, reminiscent of the recent surgery, but hindered as she was, she couldn’t reach far enough to rub it. Not that she would’ve given them the satisfaction of seeing her do so. She grinned to herself anyway despite the seeming bleakness of her captivity, a grin born from honest amusement that spread like wildfire across her face and grew crookedly up one side. She didn’t really blame them all the precautions. After all, she wouldn’t want to deal with her escaping either, if she were them. And their “precautions” were rarely enough for the likes of her.
She could feel the slight vibrations of people talking just outside the reinforced sliding doors that locked her away in her holding cell, the distinctive “Two-Eight-Six” cadence of her designation just barely perceptible to her. If she craned her injured neck enough, she could even see a couple of them through the little glasteel windows in each door; Altairan Legion troops in their spotless Volunteer Corps uniforms and their new, especially resistant armor that was rated to withstand large amounts of Kinetic heat.
Her jagged grin widened almost impossibly. It must be hard to hold a Kinetic. At least, a Kinetic like her. She snorted in unmitigated amusement at the thought; there were no other Kinetics like her. No one anywhere was as strong as she was.
She chuckled to herself as she returned to staring at the dull reflection the overhead light made on the blank wall ahead of her. She started to absently pull at the heavy bonds securing her arm to the table, not using her Kinetics to do so, but just her base physical strength, amplified from years of toiling under Urebai’s higher-than-standard gravity. The shackles rattled faintly in response, but didn’t otherwise seem to budge.
Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) Page 2