by E. C. Jarvis
“What are you doing?”
“One moment… Ah, there it is.” She pulled her hand out of what seemed to be a dubious place to have been rummaging about and presented Larissa with a small, smooth stone.
“Very nice?”
“It’s the invisibility stone I told you about.”
“Oh!”
“It won’t make you actually disappear so you can walk through walls, of course. Not like your boyfriend over there. But no one will see you for a time once it’s activated.”
“How long?”
“Not long. I haven’t had a chance to test it completely, I’m afraid, but I’m sure you can use it somehow. It’ll only work once, and then you’ll have to bring it back to me to be recharged.”
Larissa took the stone from Sandy. It felt utterly smooth and cold to the touch yet had a sort of clammy coating. She rubbed her thumb over it, crinkling her nose.
“Where have you been keeping this, exactly?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
“Probably not.”
“Right. Time to start work on getting us out of this cell.”
“You think you can do that?” Larissa said, a pang of hope striking her heart.
“Better to try than to sit around waiting for some burly Marine to come down here and collect us for execution, don’t you think?”
“Sure. Hey, Sandy?”
“Yes, Cap’n Rissa?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
Larissa watched Sandy fiddling with the rope, tying it round one of the bars beside the lock. She’d never watched the Cleric working on his illusions and had no idea how any of it actually worked. It would be fascinating to see.
“Larissa.” Holt’s voice, soft and low, caught her attention. He had moved up close to the bars.
She stood beside him, so close they were almost touching, save for the bars separating them. “Yes?” she whispered back to him.
“I know Admiral Vries. I was a Captain on a ship under his command.”
“Oh? He didn’t seem to notice you.”
“I guess he didn’t recognize me. I expect he’ll come down here soon and speak with each of us, one by one.”
“That’s the protocol to follow?”
“Yes. Do you wish me to withhold information from him, or would you prefer I took your honest approach?”
“You’re asking for my decision on what our course of action should be?”
“This is your mission, Larissa. I will follow your orders.”
“You trust Vries?”
“You know me. I don’t trust anyone. But if you’re asking me for an assessment of his character, I concur with Kerrigan. He does things by the book.”
“You think he would help us if we told him the entire truth?”
“If he believed you, he would help. Making him believe is a different matter. It would be easier to convince him that everything is simply a case of mistaken identity and that you are completely innocent. He may let you go.”
“I don’t think I can convince him that everyone here is completely innocent.”
“Agreed,” Holt said.
“We all go together or not at all. I’m not going to abandon people to their fate now.”
“It would be helpful to know his intentions. It is unlikely the mass of vessels lined up along the coast were a welcoming party just for us.”
“You think they were getting ready to go to war?”
“That was my first assumption. As formidable a foe as you are, I doubt the President would order the entire military to take you down. If he truly believed Kerrigan to be dead, it would follow that he believed us to be dead also. If the Eagle has been called to the front line to launch an attack on Eptora, I doubt Vries will take his best ship all the way back to the Capital just to deal with a handful of prisoners. It doesn’t feel like we’re moving at speed anywhere.”
“I don’t know that I can get those kind of answers out of him. I’m no good at interrogation, especially when I’m supposed to be the subject of the questions.”
“Just be yourself. You’ll do fine. For now, we need to get our story straight.”
She took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly. As simple as it would be to tell everyone what they should say if asked, she still didn’t trust Kerrigan completely, or his men. If their stories didn’t match up, it would only add to their troubles. She hoped Vries wasn’t a bloodthirsty man willing to extract information out of people by torture. If he wasn’t part of the President’s circle of men who were willing to follow the most diabolical orders, that seemed like a good sign. She cleared her throat and called out down the line of cells. “If you’re taken for questioning, share only the basics of our journey. Try not to embellish the story and inform the Admiral we were heading to the Capital to speak with the President in the hopes of clearing our names.”
A few voices sounded their agreement with the plan, though she couldn’t quite tell who they belonged to. She peered between the bars on the gate, squinting to look across at Kerrigan’s cell, only to find darkness.
“I think I can break this open if you want me to,” Sandy said as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a little too cramped in the space.
“Leave it for now. Thanks, Sandy.”
“All right.”
“Fuck sake,” Cid yelled in exasperation.
“What’s wrong, Cid?” Larissa called back.
“Bloody Kerrigan tied my rope so tight I can’t get my hands free.”
“Well that’s the idea, Cid,” Kerrigan yelled back to him.
“Well it’s no fucking use when a man needs to take a piss, is it? I can’t even get my…thing out of my bloody trousers.”
A snorting noise came from somewhere nearby, followed by Friar Narry’s distinct, booming laughter. Before long, the entire brig filled with snorts and chuckling. As Larissa glanced through the small gap in the bars, tears of laughter filling her eyes, even Holt smiled and shook his head.
The sound of laughter quickly dissipated with the thumping of boots down the steps towards them.
“Would someone like to explain why my prisoners are laughing?” Admiral Vries boomed. Silence descended throughout the brig. He appeared in the corridor, flanked by two thickly built Marines with scowls on their faces. Larissa rolled her eyes; she’d had enough of scowling guards with their excursion in Eptora. Sandy had a horrified expression on her face. Larissa almost laughed; it seemed she had become so used to violent and threatening situations that they were more irritating than frightening these days.
“Who is in charge of this group?” Vries called.
“I am.” Larissa pressed her nose to the bars, voice strong and determined, as if there had never been any doubt.
Vries turned to face her, a questioning look in his pale grey eyes. “Very well, you first.” He pointed to the lock, and one of his Marines pulled out a key. As the door swung open, Sandy took a step back, looking all too happy to let Larissa out alone. She gave her cellmate a reassuring smile and stepped into the corridor.
“I’d appreciate it if you could untie the ropes binding my men, please, Admiral. It seems excessive to tie them up when they’re locked in a cell, and they have certain biological needs to tend to which require the use of their hands.”
The Admiral looked down his nose at her, his moustache wriggling side to side slightly. Clearly, he didn’t know what to make of a woman half his size making such a request of him, let alone declaring herself to be in charge.
“Very well. Roper, see to it. You, come with me.” He turned and marched up the steps, and she followed behind. The voice in her head reminded her that she had successfully negotiated with the Empress of Eptora. A curmudgeonly Admiral would be far less intimidating.
CHAPTER THREE
Larissa had hoped she would be ushered to the Admiral’s cabin. The Eagle was so large and meticulously laid out, she would have loved the opportunity to have a peek at t
he place where the Admiral got to spend his nights. She doubted he had to curl himself into a ball in the foot well of his desk or sleep scrunched-up in a dusty old chair which smelled like death. Instead, he led her on a long walk through the bowels of the ship, passing white-painted wooden doors either side, probably leading to the furnace room and storage rooms, though she could only guess. When he finally reached a plain door at the end of the walk, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it, leading her inside.
No light greeted her on the other side of the door. The room lacked portholes around the sides or candles on the wall. The Admiral grabbed a lantern from the corridor and brought it in with him, the door clicking shut behind. The Marine who had followed remained outside, leaving her and the Admiral alone. As the light from the lamp illuminated the small enclosure, she saw a table butted up to one end, an array of shining implements laid out across it—knives, pliers, a saw, pincers, and a line of long metal bars of varying length all filed to a sharp point. She presumed it to be a carpenter’s workspace until she spotted the chains and shackles attached to the walls. Her pulse quickened at the realisation of the room’s purpose.
The Admiral grabbed a small stool from under the table, placed it in the center of the room, and gestured for her to sit with a stiff arm and pointed finger. She did so, not wanting to risk angering him before they’d even started. She had no idea if Imago still followed her around or not and didn’t want to rely on a phantom ghost cat to protect her in every potentially violent situation. Her ability to withstand a great deal of pain—and heal almost instantly—didn’t diminish the fear of having any of those implements used on her body. She could only hope the apparent threat of being tortured would not be acted upon. Maybe the Admiral didn’t have the stomach to actually harm a defenseless woman.
“Your name?” he said, perching his hip against the table.
“Larissa Markus.”
“Your occupation?”
“Retail Clerk.”
“That’s what you want me to believe. You’re a wanted criminal, responsible for the destruction of the Sallarium City Hub, the Aditona Hub, and the RDS Falcon, along with the majority of her crew and a number of civilian casualties. You are accused of colluding with the Eptoran enemy, the capture and murder of Colonel Gabriel Kerrigan, Professor Maximillian Watts, and a man named Doctor Orother. There is a nation-wide order to capture you and those among your crew.”
“Orother destroyed the Sallarium City Hub and was responsible for the death of the Professor. Colonel Kerrigan is alive and well in your brig. The Empress of Eptora was kind enough to let me leave her country after my crew and I had been forced to travel there under duress. I will admit to having a part to play in the death of the Doctor, but if you knew anything about the man, you wouldn’t mourn his loss. No one in their right mind would,” she said, trying to bury the shock of hearing of her public labelling with such crimes.
“And the Aditona Hub? The RDS Falcon?”
“A mistake,” she said, turning her face away from him only to catch sight of the shackles. Perhaps she deserved to be tortured for her part in that. Perhaps she even deserved to hang for it. “Are you going to torture me, Admiral?”
“I don’t think there would be much point. I’m not overly interested in civilian affairs, and I have an ear for lies. Stands me in good stead for betting games. You’re being honest with me.”
“I am.”
“That was a statement, not a question, Miss Markus.”
“So what are you going to do with me? With my crew?”
“I haven’t decided yet. As I said, I don’t tend to concern myself with anything outside of my orders. The airship you acquired has interested me greatly, though.”
“Ah.” Her heart fluttered a little. She’d forgotten about Cid’s amazing handiwork on completing the engine and using the Anthonium to power the rotors, absolving the need for the canopy. Of course that would interest the Admiral; the idea of a fleet of ships with such power and speed at his command would weaken the resolve of any man. Perhaps he was worried the Eptorans had such a fleet. If she could convince him of that piece of information, it might be enough to delay the offensive strike. Surely they would have to pause and rethink their strategy in light of such news.
“My engineer can explain how it works,” she said, her mind racing as she tried to hatch a plan with all this newfound information. “I’m not sure he’d like to do so if she thought he would simply be hanged for his efforts, though.”
“Are you trying to bargain with me, Miss Markus?”
She stood from the stool, no longer wanting to sit at the feet of a man who presumed himself to be better than her. If she’d learned one thing in all the madness, it was that she had to act strongly and decisively to maintain the illusion of authority. She wouldn’t get much further in their trials if she remained the submissive and meek girl she’d started out as.
“I’d be a fool not to try, don’t you think? Why were you congregating along the coastline? What are your orders?”
“I am the one asking the questions, Miss Markus.”
“It’s the war, isn’t it? You have orders to attack Eptora? I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Oh? An expert on military strategy, are we?”
“No, but I have just come from there. I spoke with the Empress myself, in her palace. I know what ships they have, the numbers, the type, and their placement across the country.” She saw his nostrils flare and mentally kicked herself for embellishing. It might just come back to bite her on the ass later.
“Then I suggest you tell me all the details before I feel the need to use force.” He tapped his finger against a pair of pliers. Thinking of pulling her fingernails out, was he? She almost wanted him to, just so she could show him her ability to withstand pain and heal instantly. Her heart fluttered again as she thought of it. If she could show him that ability, he would believe.
“I’m willing to discuss the details with the President and him alone in exchange for a pardon for me and my men. If you want to try hurting me, go ahead.”
“You think I won’t do it?”
“Oh, I think you will. I’m just not in the least bit afraid of it. Do you know anything about Eptoran history, their folklore, their legends?”
“I know they believe in mythical creatures, godlike people, ghosts, and other such nonsense.”
“Interesting.” She took a step towards where he perched on the table, then another step to the side. He didn’t flinch. Of course he wouldn’t feel threatened; she was hardly a match for him physically. It would probably take little effort on his part to snap her neck. She hoped he would consider the information she’d claimed to know as too important to just dispatch her in such a manner. Another step brought her to the opposite end of the table. He watched her carefully.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on fighting me, Miss Markus.”
“Not at all. I just wanted to show you something.” She grabbed the shortest metal spike, slammed her left hand flat on the table, and plunged the spike straight into the middle of her hand. The sting coursed through her entire arm up to her shoulder. The shock of the self-imposed attack rattled through her body like an icy breeze, and then, almost instantly, the pain subsided.
The Admiral flinched, his mouth popping open slightly, just enough for her to see his bottom lip poking out of his moustache. His restrained reaction impressed Larissa, as he did nothing more than gawp silently. A trickle of blood escaped from the hole and pooled beneath her palm. She lifted her hand, spike included, and raised it up to show him, to make it clear there was no trick. Then slowly she removed the spike. A moment later, the oddly familiar sensation of healing took over as her skin replenished piece by piece. The blood stopped, wound healed, and she dropped the metal spike to the table with a clank.
“Torture is not an effective method to use with me, Admiral. Or any of my men.” She held his stare, dark brown eyes glaring at her as though she were a madwoman. Perhaps s
he was. She hoped the Admiral would accept the display and not question whether the others in her group possessed equal abilities. The thought of any of them enduring torture made her feel sick.
“I see,” he said after a period of silence. “You wish to see the President?”
“Yes.”
“I will send him a message and see what he says. In the meantime, we will head toward the Capital. The fleet has not yet fully assembled. I can spare the time for a detour. Will you agree to return to the brig and spend the time not causing trouble?”
“I will agree to that,” she said. Seeing as he hadn’t defined what he meant by causing trouble, it didn’t worry her too much. Their definition of trouble might vary markedly. She stifled a grin as he exited the room and led her back along the ship.
“I will question the others,” he said.
“Of course. You’ll find they’re a generally nice enough group of men. They won’t fear your torture threats. You could try offering them a nice lunch—they’ll be more amenable to your questioning.”
“Are you suggesting I offer treats to my prisoners?”
“Yes.”
“You are an odd woman.”
“I’ve been told that before. You might want to start by speaking with the man in the cell next to me. You may remember him.”
“Oh?” As they reached the staircase leading down to the brig, he turned. The corridor narrowed, barely enough space for two people to stand side by side, and with his impressively broad body, it made for an uncomfortable squeeze.
“Captain William Holt,” she said, looking up at Vries.
“Oh.” The moustache bristled, rocking side to side on his face for a moment as he physically chewed the information over. He held out his arm, indicating she should go ahead, and she did so, returning to the brig below.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I must say, I was surprised to learn of your discharge from the Sky Force, Captain Holt,” Admiral Vries said as he paced up and down the length of his cabin. Holt sat on a chair in the center, because he’d been instructed to do so—though not an order, he obeyed regardless. He didn’t want to admit to the fatigue tugging on his limbs, weakness spreading through his body like a gentle breeze. He grew fearful of sleep; each time his heavy eyes closed, he wondered if they would ever open again. Strength only came with a substantial hit of Anthonium running through his veins or in close proximity to Larissa. He tried not to overanalyze it—if his time was running out, it would be better spent being productive, not sitting around brooding about things that would never be. He looked up at the Admiral. It seemed odd to hear someone call him Captain again. It had been many years since anyone had done so—anyone besides Larissa.