by P. S. Power
Everyone except Mr. Remy seemed to think that was strange, but he just made the needed hole and formed an airlock so that they wouldn't be hit by the storm. It took a while, but not too long later, ten injured people rode back, inside Boxy. They needed help to get out, but the box went back instantly, for the rest. Not even needing to be told to. He was very smart.
When the last load of people got in, Fornia Stergis being with them, they had to go and repeat a lot of their previous rescue work. This time however, he had the strange lady with her purple hair and skin contact Timon directly. That the boy answered meant that he was probably finished with Misha.
The woman started to speak, her voice worried and high pitched, but Timon just held up a finger.
"We have aid already being put together for that area. Our observers show that those two storms are the only ones for now. Is the forecasting up there yet? Tor wants to know. Obviously not, or no one would have been stuck like that. I'll get with the Prime Minister on that one myself. Mike Coltress, my assistant, will be down to oversee things for me."
Gerent caught the name change, and nodded. Good, at least one person would be getting something they wanted that day. For his part, he simply felt like it was all too much. Then again, he just had to keep going, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Everyone was helping, he just had to do his part. The only problem there was that everyone calling seemed to think that his next move should be helping them, personally. Not just the people in the emergency areas either.
Sam called and seemed half panicked that he wasn't there yet, and Queen Constance almost ordered him back to Noram, to give what aid he could there. In the end he just sat for a moment. Considered what to do and shrugged.
"We need the things from Harmony first. Let's go. I'll pilot, since we need to jump."
Remy moved smoothly out of the central chair and shifted over one as almost everyone else stood around, looking baffled. They'd all been healed, but clearly hadn't counted on being taken that far away.
Too bad. It wasn't a pleasure trip either, so when they got inside, he ordered them all out to help get things loaded as fast as possible. He helped too, and so did everyone else. Fornia Stergis looked amused, after a bit, as he slapped at another young woman's arm and yelled at her to hurry.
He didn't get it, until about five minutes later when the young woman turned to him, her box loaded onto the ship.
"I didn't sign on for a beating." She rubbed her arm which couldn't possibly still hurt, and seemed ready to yell at him. He smiled at her, looking down a lot.
"I know. No one did. It's a special perk, just for you. Don't make me do it again, hey?" He winked at the girl, who scowled and stomped off. But kept working.
Fornia moved over and shook her head.
"Well, don't count on ever being invited to one of her movie premiers. That's Kincaid Rue you know. She's one of the most famous people in Austra." The woman seemed to think it was mildly funny anyway, but Gerent just hoped that it wouldn't end up in a war. They really did need to hurry however.
After a few seconds he shrugged.
"Well, I'll invite her to my wedding. I guess that's going to be a pretty big thing? Everyone seems to think so at least."
The woman loaded another box, guiding the floating thing into place at a jog and then came back to him, her purple face pleasant.
"I do love a good wedding, myself. Who are you to wed?"
"Petra Ward. She-"
Everyone stopped working, which was fine, since they were done, but they all looked at him as if amazed.
Kincaid walked over, the piercings through her left cheek glinting a bit, and went wide eyed.
"You're marrying Conserina Petra? My god, that's huge! We need to get in on the planning for that... People will want to see it."
Gerent looked at the woman and then wondered if she might just be a bit out of touch with reality. She was thinking about his wedding, when they'd just had two devastating storms to deal with? Then he shrugged. It might not be perfect thinking, but she might have a point. After all, they couldn't stop living, just because they needed to survive. He'd lost enough of his life to that kind of thinking, hadn't he?
"Sure. Well, we need to do this first, but maybe you can help me with that part of things, later? In a few days. I still have some other things to do, for a while."
A long while, he was willing to bet.
Chapter thirteen
Gerent pushed himself as hard as he could for days. Barely sleeping and skipping meals, just to make certain that everyone in the storm areas had what they needed. This time, thankfully, he thought, Austra hadn't taken the hardest hit. The group that had been in that house had been about a fifth of the people really put out by the storm, which was just as vast and horrible as the one in Noram, only mainly over the ocean. Given the rest of what they'd been through in the last years, that was a favor.
Lairdgren County had been hit hard however. Some whole towns were simply gone. They couldn't even find many of the bodies. When they finally got to talk about it, Prime Minister Foley showed him readings that said that both of the storms had actually had winds of over two hundred and thirty miles per hour. Those were the gusts, not the steady part, but it was so bad that a lot of places just weren't there anymore. The school was half gone, for instance and those buildings had been built to last.
The only place that was really safe was the capital, Grenwyn. All the houses there were underground, and when Gerent finally got there to take a peek, it seemed that everyone had survived. The trees in the area weren't standing anymore, in the main. The people however, were.
That kind of fit what the weather predictors in Austra had claimed, really. It wasn't that these were regular storms, not in any way. They were, rather, the world trying to right massive imbalances. No one knew what the future was going to hold that way, either. It wasn't even two separate events, or at least some of the scientists believed that. It was one thing that simply showed on opposite sides of the world, being so massive that the entire body of air had been involved.
Gerent didn't stop to visit with anyone there, just checking with a few strangers to make certain they were getting food, and that no one was suffering. There were some small problems, but he gave a man that seemed to know what he was talking about a small box with twenty healing items in it, and five of the large food production magics that Timon made.
"You're in charge of these things. Can you make sure everyone has what they need here?" It sounded like he was being bossy and more than a little short with the man, even as he handed off the tools that he needed. That was mainly tiredness and nerves. He'd been using the device Ali gave him, but was having to do it more often, with less effect each time. If he could get a half days sleep, he'd be fine, but until then...
The man looked at him and seemed to be letting go of the fact that Ger was being a pain in the rump.
"I can. Don't worry, we're fine here. We'll make due. Thank you for coming to check on us." He sounded bland, his white hair and wrinkled face calm and thoughtful, which was better than Gerent was managing he was willing to bet. So much so that it wasn't even close.
"Thanks. I have to get going. Back to Harmony, for the third time today. At least they're helping." Without explaining that he wandered back to his craft, and took it over to the waiting space vessel. It was getting hard to pilot now, since he was so far gone, but he had to at least make the jump back, since no one else on the crew could do it...
Blinking, he floated to the bridge, using the low hovering Not-flyer feature of his shield, and waved everyone else over to him. They'd all had sleep in the last day, so were fresh and ready, compared to him. Without waiting he signaled to Dorgal, then explained how to do a jump. Again. He'd done it before, but hadn't let anyone else try it yet. That was silly however. After all, what if the man needed to steal a ship sometime?
"So, take a seat and try to take several small jumps, so we don't end up in the Moon. Then take us down. On the way back he
re, you can do it, Erid. Then Michael, unless you two want to switch? That's just alphabetical order." Gerent was pretty proud of himself for figuring that one out on the fly. It was right, he was almost positive.
No one claimed otherwise at least.
Without pause, or at least too much, Dorgal got into the main seat which was cream colored and soft looking right now, and put his hand on the plate below the normal control bobble. It was what you had to do in order to take a ship into a jump. It took about seven tries, but he got them into orbit and managed to land far more smoothly than he'd jumped. He'd get better. They all would.
"I'm off to bed then. You three can handle things for a bit?" They could, he knew, but that didn't mean anyone would let him sleep. Well, they would, but the people on Harmony weren't always good about realizing that not everyone was on their schedule.
The trick there, he knew, would be to hide away in his room and not let anyone get in touch with him. So door shut and locked, with lights off, he did just that, deciding not to come out of the bed until his bladder forced the issue.
It nearly worked, until his door opened about ten hours later, and someone came in. He knew for a fact that he'd locked it. Which meant that it was someone very comfortable with magic that had forced the thing open. Tor wouldn't have woken him, or if he had it would have been with pounding and calling out that there was a real emergency that took priority over rest. While there were probably twenty people around that could have done it, especially where they were parked, being in Harmony at the moment, his guess was that it would be either Tiera or Tim. Yes, the others could do it, but again, if they wanted him, they'd pound on the door. Like people. Not just go and invade his space.
The room was still pitch black, but he knew it wasn't a dream. For one thing, while he'd had several that night, all of them were decently nice. Safe and boring things that had him just being out of place at a party, perhaps naked, or making a fool of himself in public. No one beat him, or tried to kill him. So it wasn't happening now either.
He opened both eyes, and looked toward the sound of whoever was breathing, and spoke, his voice a bit sleepy still.
"Hey. If you've come to kill me, can you try again in a few hours? I need the rest." It got a chuckle, and it was one that he recognized, being Tim.
"No, sorry, I kind of need for some things to be delivered to Austra... To my people, as soon as possible. After we talk about Petra."
He sat up, not hitting the light sigil at first, then, after making sure he was going to touch the right one, which was the lowest brightness, he tapped it carefully. It was enough to see by, if you weren't really picky about how you defined seeing.
"What? Um, you mean how you'll kill me if I hurt her, but then tell me that that's just joking, because she can do it herself? I already figured that one out. I think that I might be a little smarter than I used to be. It helps with things like that." He managed to sound happy, if sleepy still, and Tim managed a sober, but heartfelt, laugh.
"Too true there. I meant about Count Rodriguez, and those guards. I've been keeping an ear to the ground. By which I mean I've been bugging Aunt Connie at least once a day as to how things are playing out. She loves that by the way, being that I'm her favorite. Thomson was hit by the storm too, as you know, but you already got them taken care of. The rest of your working group is ready to go after the others now, but I'm sensing reluctance there. Do you have any clues as to how you're going to proceed?"
It was a bit annoying, but the honest truth was that Gerent did know. The two non-Jimson guards that had hurt Petra were in known locations. It would just take a visit, and then dealing with whatever came. One of them was working for a Duchess, which could be a problem, if she decided to protect him. The other man was just a tavern patroller for now. Meaning he worked as a city guard in the low rent district.
"Of Galasia, as you probably guessed, since that makes sense. I don't want to go there, but I kind of need to." He flashed back to the cell where he and Patty had been kept. It stank, like all places monsters keep you always did. Of shit and piss, body odor and sour ale. He could, for an instant, hear her whimpering in fear, before the door to their pit opened.
Then he was back, and tabbed the light up a few notches, even if his eyes did ache from it a bit.
Timon looked at him carefully, his chiseled face looking nearly as pretty as Tor's. Not quite, but he looked like a man, for all that he was young. The eyes were dark brown, and gleamed a tiny bit as he stood there, by the bedside.
"That... I can't do it for you, but if you have to, hire the work done. It's probably best if you do it yourself, or at least get your Counts and Countesses to see to it. From what my sources have told me, no one there suspects that you killed the last baron. Really, if anyone even saw you, they kept it to themselves. Not that I can blame them. You did Galasia a huge service, when you took that piece of trash out for them."
He hadn't really known that Tim knew all that, and tensed for a bit. It would have been a bigger reaction, but he decided against it, since it was Tim. There would be no blackmail, or threats about the act. If he wanted something, he would have simply asked. Gerent would have given it to him, too. Even if what he wanted was Petra. Not that Ger didn't think the boy could just take her, if he wanted. They were close, Petra Ward and his adopted brother. So much so that a lot of people had questioned if it were a completely wholesome relationship.
The fact was however, that he didn't have anything that Timon would want. Not that he couldn't get on his own faster. Plus, he was right. If Galasia knew that he'd killed Rico Gala, they might go to war over it. Or they might just throw him a party. The man had been that evil.
"I'm almost positive that at least one, if not two or three, guards saw me leave. They might not have been able to make out my face, but that's hardly protection, since there weren't a lot of flying midgets and still aren't. I suppose they could have blamed some child, so at least that didn't happen."
Tim moved back toward the door a few steps, burning off nervous energy, rather than leaving yet.
"My best guess then is that they probably worked out who you were, and realized that if you wanted the man dead, it was just going to happen. As it stood, if you hadn't acted right then, the Assassins' Guild would have taken him out in the next days. I was told that our man on the ground was no more than three days from removing him. Your way worked too, and faster, so I'm not complaining. So, not to be one of those people, but can you and your crew take some messages around for me? Oh, and pick up Kincaid Rue, and possibly some other people, at their main dock... In about two hours? I promised people some help and some trips to various places."
Gerent stood up, and stretched...
"Make a list of what I'm doing then. In little words. I still don't read that well. I should practice that. I..." He stopped and then made a face and tabbed the lights up to full, which was about like standing in the sun on a clear day on Earth. Bright enough his eyes watered. "Do you think I should... Go to school? I'm old for it, but I look younger than my years now, so that won't be that bad. I..." He was going to say that he'd need to be in with little kids, most likely, not knowing a lot of the basic skills, like math that didn't have you counting on your fingers. Reading too, and a lot of other things.
Tim made a face, but it wasn't mean or even him being funny. It was just a sign that he was thinking, and wanted Gerent to know that.
"You probably should. We'll hire you a tutor for it, to start with, then you can work from there. Most nobles do it that way, you know. Have special lessons for everything. I'll set something up and send people by. You'll probably want to get an alcove here, so that they'll be able to find you. If you try to live on your ship all the time, you'll end up playing messenger forever."
They talked for a while after that, about things that mainly involved business and the fact that people were going to be waiting for him in Austra. More than one or two, it sounded like, meaning it would be best to get there, and then com
e directly back.
It took a while, and for the second time in a week Kincaid Rue managed to rub him the wrong way, almost instantly, as they stood on the docks. The problem there was that she expected them to leave instantly, which had been his plan, too. It was the wrong idea, clearly, since he was approached almost instantly by about twenty people, each asking for something different.
Finally, not able to hear them all, but seeing that some had bags and tech devices with them that were bigger than a handheld, he waved until everyone shut it.
"Good morning! Let's speed this up? Everyone that needs a lift to Harmony, please get with Dorgal." He gestured, using his whole hand, even if that did still feel unnatural. It was considered polite, so he tried to remember to do it. "If you need some kind of personal help, for your family or friends, or your city, please go over to Erid. He's the High Servant in the white robes. Everyone else, feel free to come to me directly, and we'll try to get what we can done now." He figured that it would make sense to do it that way, but Kincaid practically growled at him over it. She did glare and finally, leaving her two bags where they'd been put by the man that had driven her there in a wheeled ground cart, stalked over and tried to push him.
It didn't work, because of the shield, but was still a bit much. It wasn't like they knew each other, which she instantly pointed out.
"Do you know who I am?" She didn't sound sweet about it either.
It sounded off, really, her face making her look younger than that. About fifteen. She moved like an older woman, which was a thing he didn't know was real. Or hadn't until he thought about it. She was subdued in how she moved. Keeping her arms and legs close and not over reaching very often. Poised, but still too much of the time to be a child.
Gerent tilted his head, trying to make himself seem like he was joking, because what he said wasn't going to be the right answer, was it? No matter what he went with.