The War (Blood and Destiny #3)

by E. C. Jarvis

  “No, but merit isn’t the only requirement for the position of leader.”

  “Don’t try to convince me of some lofty rubbish about how you made such a fine job of getting everyone over here with the title of Captain, that you should retain your position for the journey home.”

  “No, but you forget, Colonel, that we weren’t exactly on the same side… Still aren’t, as far as I can tell. In fact, I distinctly recall you stating that us pirates should all hang for our crimes. Do you still feel that way?”

  “No.”

  “So you expect us to believe that you’ve changed your mind and just take your word for it? We should just step aside, allow you to take command, and follow your every word?” Her tone of voice deepened, and as the anger and frustration boiled in her stomach, she found she was virtually shouting at him.

  “What is the alternative, Miss Markus? That we—I—should blindly follow your orders, even if it means that whatever you command is likely to get us all killed?”

  “Perhaps we should have a vote,” Friar Narry interjected, attempting to calm the rising tempers with a tone of diplomacy.

  “This is not a democracy, Friar. It’s a pirate ship,” Larissa barked.

  “It is a pirate ship with a military escort. Therefore, it is a military mission,” Kerrigan shouted back at her.

  “May I add something?” Cid asked.

  “No,” Kerrigan snapped.

  “Yes, of course, Cid,” Larissa said.

  “If we’re talking simply terms of rank, I believe the Empirical line outranks even the most senior military chiefs,” Cid said. “If Larissa is indeed the daughter of the sole surviving heir to the Daltonian Empire, doesn’t that mean she outranks you?”

  “Even if that were true, Daltonia is a Republic, not an Empire. The old lines hold no sway.”

  “If Covelle achieves his goal,” Holt called over from the wheel, “and we fail, that will change.”

  No one had an answer for that. An odd silence hung in the air, pierced only by the dull thrumming of the propellers. Larissa chewed on her lower lip and glared at a knot in the floorboards as if she’d find the solution to all this bickering buried beneath that point.

  “So,” she said, speaking quietly and carefully, forcing herself to find a more measured tone, “we are trying to stop my father from taking back power in Daltonia, we are trying to stop the war between Daltonia and Eptora that my father is partly responsible for instigating...”

  “Correct,” Kerrigan said.

  “I haven’t finished.”

  Kerrigan’s face scrunched up as she issued the admonishment.

  “The President of Daltonia authorised cruel and murderous experiments on Daltonians in the name of National Security.” She glanced briefly at Holt. If he understood her meaning, there was no clue of it in his expression. “He conspired with Doctor Orother, and numerous others, to devise diabolical instruments intended to be used on captured Eptoran soldiers to gain intelligence they were otherwise unable to obtain. Not to mention the fact that they kidnapped, tortured, and murdered a businessman in the hope of stealing the technology he’d invented to pursue their own interests. Are you going to deny any knowledge of these things?”

  Kerrigan’s lips tightened.

  Larissa couldn’t help the sly smile tugging at her cheeks. “I tell you what, Colonel. I will concede command for the remainder of the journey on one condition,” she said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “You will tell us everything you know about the President, Doctor Orother, Covelle…everything.”

  Silence hung thick and heavy in the air between them once more. Kerrigan appeared to chew on his teeth as his jaw moved back and forth. To anyone else, Holt probably looked as stony-faced as ever, but the slight squint in his eyes and miniscule curl of his lip told Larissa all she needed to know; she had done well to call out the immutable Colonel in this way.

  “Look, Colonel… What is your first name, anyway?”

  “Gabriel. You can call me Colonel, or Kerrigan, if you must.”

  “Fine, Colonel…if we’re to have any chance of surviving at all, let alone putting everything right and saving the world from descending into chaos, we’re going to have to work together. You know by now that I’m no pirate, at least not in the traditional sense. You also must know that I have no awful motive that should truly grant me a death sentence. What happened in Aditona was an accident.” She sucked in a lungful of air, forcing herself to remain calm as the horrific memory of that day flashed past. “I never meant for all those people to die, and if I’d known that those bombs would have caused that much chaos, I wouldn’t have used them.”

  “You would have sacrificed him?” Kerrigan pointed at Holt.

  “Not exactly. I would have come up with an alternative rescue.” She gave them both a smile. Neither reciprocated.

  “You’ll concede command?” Kerrigan asked, bring the seriousness straight back in a snap.

  “When I’m convinced you’ve given me enough information and that you’re not lying.”

  “Fine, let’s talk now.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “We have a long journey ahead of us. We’ve all just been through an awful lot and we’re not far enough away from the immediate threat to start concentrating on the details of such far-reaching plots. If those warships give us any trouble, you can give commands and we will follow. For now, I need to speak with Holt, urgently, and in private.”

  “Fine, I’ll take the wheel.”

  “Larissa?” Cid stepped forward, his face curled into a pensive frown.

  “Yes, Cid?”

  “Elena said she’d put an engine on board.”

  “An engine?”

  “For me to fix up and attach to the propellers, like we did with the other ship, to help us get moving quicker.”

  “Wouldn’t we need Anthonium for that?”

  He opened his hand and showed her a familiar-looking lump of silvery-white stone—a stone that was the source of all their troubles. If it wasn’t so useful, she’d probably have hurled it straight overboard.

  “Elena gave you that?”

  “She did, though I believe it was done without the Empress’ knowledge or permission.”

  “Well, that makes our chances a little better. Can you do it right away—although, perhaps it would be best if we did this when we didn’t have our escort. They may get suspicious.”

  “I don’t know what state the engine is in. She said it was from one of the other prototypes, and as I unceremoniously crashed the only working version, it might take a little more than a bit of tinkering to make it work. That’s if I can make it work at all.”

  “See what you can do, please. I have faith in you.”

  As Cid headed below deck, Holt joined her, though his gaze tracked Cid with interest.

  “Holt,” she said, somehow still managing to restrain herself from leaping into his arms.

  “Cid has Anthonium.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “What for?”

  “To build an engine.”

  “What for?”

  “This isn’t the conversation I wanted to have with you. Can we go somewhere more private to talk?”

  “Does he need all of it?”

  He didn’t look down at her once; his gaze remained fixed on the spot where Cid had descended below deck. His voice was terse, impatient, needy, and she noticed his skin beading with sweat. The sight of it made her pulse race.

  “I don’t know. Holt, we need to talk.”

  “There will be time for that.”

  With that, he headed off, marching with determination down into the hold. What hopes she had of finally getting to speak with him and catch up on everything that had happened faded along with the last of the Eptoran sun. Kerrigan gave her a pointed look, and even Narry, who had been silently watching the exchanges from afar, stared at her with a rueful expression. It seemed her troubles were still sh
owing no signs of abating. With a heavy sigh and a deep breath, she headed below, hoping to find out what was going on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  “It’s your turn to cook.” Sandy’s voice jolted Saunders from a peaceful nap. He kept his eyes shut, wondering for a moment if he could manage to drop straight back to sleep. A few more hours wouldn’t go amiss.

  “Last time I cooked, you said it tasted like shit. I can cook again, but don’t complain of the taste. Or you can just do it yourself,” Eddy called back to her, his voice playful.

  “I’m trying to work, you ass.”

  “And a lovely ass it is, Miss.”

  Sandy growled and slammed a door shut, the resulting cracking of wood making Saunders flinch. They couldn’t afford to break any part of the ship; the last few weeks traveling over sea had put enough strain on the structure. He pushed himself upright from where he’d curled into a heap in a corner beside a crate of supplies and stood.

  “Morning, LT,” Eddy called with a half-hearted salute. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Your cousin has a tendency to shout when she’s angry.”

  “Have you tried not making her angry?”

  “That does sound like a more sensible approach, but unfortunately she gets mad every time I speak to her.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t speak to her at all.”

  “That would make for a pretty dull trip. You’re no fun, and as for Simms—”

  “Where is Simms?”

  “Sleeping…again. Remind me why we brought him along?”

  “We needed someone who spoke fluent Eptoran. How many miles have we covered?”

  “Quite a few but not as many as you’d think. This old bucket of yours isn’t the quickest. I think we’re about two thirds across. We’d have probably walked there faster if it weren’t for the big ole body of water under our feet.”

  “Go shovel some coal into the furnace and then cook breakfast. I’ll take the controls.”

  “No one likes my cooking.”

  “That’s true, but it’s your turn. Don’t make me order you to do it.”

  “Course not, Sir.” Eddy flung a mildly enthusiastic salute at him and headed off to the furnace room. Saunders grabbed the wheel and took a glance around their surroundings. Great swathes of ocean stretched out in all directions. White waves rolled across the top of dark, blue-green liquid. The sky was covered with grey clouds bunched on top of each other, jostling for room in the expanse above. The clouds had hung in the air for days, threatening rain but never letting a drop fall.

  Saunders looked down to check the collection of navigation items they’d purloined from the RDS Falcon along with several other bits of their makeshift airship. The compass confirmed they were still heading east, and from the snaky line Eddy had drawn on the map, they were about two thirds of the way across, though he didn’t trust the calculations entirely. They were army men, trained to plot courses across land, not Sky Force navigators skilled in calculating speed and wind speed and vectors and whatever else the flyboys had to do.

  It wasn’t long before the smell of burnt meat wafted up from below. How Eddy managed to screw up the cooking every single time, he didn’t know.

  “Ugh, he’s managed to stink out the entire hold.” Sandy came up the stairs, pinching her nose. “I can’t work down there with that smell.”

  “How’s it coming?”

  “It might be ready to test. I’m not sure.”

  “Test?” Saunders asked.

  “That’s what I said. I thought you’d be pleased?”

  “No, I mean, I am pleased, but how are we going to test?”

  “That’s a good point. If we’re on the airship when I activate the illusion, we won’t know if it’s working or not, as illusions only appear to those outside the influence of the device.”

  “So what you’re saying is we have no way of actually knowing if it’s working?”

  “Unless someone gets off the ship to go have a look.”

  They both turned to look at the vast ocean tipping and swilling around them.

  “Great,” Saunders said.

  “Breakfast time,” Eddy called as he came marching up the steps, a tray of blackened meat and bread in his hands. “No need to look so miserable, you two. It’s not that bad, just a little burnt. You can scrape the black bits off easy.”

  Saunders grabbed a handful of food.

  “That’s the spirit, LT. Miss Fussy?” Eddy offered the food to Sandy, who glared daggers at him.

  Simms appeared, looking bleary-eyed and unimpressed by the offering. “Thanks, Sarge,” he managed to say unconvincingly.

  After they had all eaten, Saunders tugged on the controls to hold the ship steady in the sky.

  “Something wrong?” Eddy said.

  “We need to test Sandy’s device to see if it works. We can’t check it while we’re on board, which means someone needs to go look at the ship from down there.”

  “You asking for volunteers, Sir?” Simms said with a horrified look on his face.

  “No, I’m going into the water, you guys are responsible for making sure I get out of there afterwards. Go fetch some rope.”

  “You’re sure this is a good idea?” Sandy asked as he removed his boots and jacket.

  “No, this is a Gods-awful idea. But I can tell you a far worse idea is flying this thing into Eptora without being sure that your illusion works. They’d shoot us down in short order if they took one look at this thing.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “Oh?”

  “I don’t know if you’ll want to hear it.”

  “I want to hear everything, no matter how insignificant or stupid you might think it is. Better to speak up now than add a risk later.”

  “The pirates had a disappearing ship that crash-landed in the ocean and was last seen heading towards Eptora.”

  “Yes.”

  “What if they never made it? What if the ship fell apart in the ocean and they all drowned.”

  “That is a possibility. That’s why we’re going to gather intel, see if they did make it or not.”

  “All right, so let’s say they did make it. What if they had whoever made the device to make them disappear on board, and what if that guy managed to fix the device along the way?”

  “That’s possible.”

  “Well, what I’m saying is, if they managed to enter Eptora and they were invisible, then no one would know. Worse still, what if they managed to infiltrate Eptora and were captured and put the Eptorans on alert to our people using illusions?”

  Saunders froze as he was unbuttoning his shirt. “What would they be able to do about it?”

  “I don’t know, put all their outpost guys on alert with filters on their spyglasses.”

  “Filters? You mean they would be able to see through the illusion?”

  “Yes, I thought you knew that.”

  “No. Here I was thinking I’d come up with a brilliant and unique plan, and that’s potentially just blown it all out the water.”

  “I guess that’s why the military don’t have a bunch of highly skilled Dolonite Priests working day and night to build devices for them. Want to turn back?”

  The thought crossed his mind. They could in fact spend a few weeks at sea, then turn around and head back. He could report to the General that if the Eptorans had seen the pirates or Colonel Kerrigan, they were silent about it. Even if Kerrigan magically showed up, there would be no way of them finding out that he hadn’t followed through with the orders. He reached down to remove his trousers, stripping down to his undershorts when his hand landed against his pocket. The box containing the pills rattled against his leg, a sobering reminder of what was at stake. Again, an uneasy thought skulked into his subconscious. Perhaps they weren’t supposed to complete this mission at all. He tried to ignore the niggling feeling at the back of his neck telling him the General would make sure they wouldn’t make it home one way or another, but it had settled there quite dog
gedly and didn’t show any sign of abating.

  “I get the feeling that turning back isn’t an option. There is only one person I know who will know for sure.”

  “Your Colonel?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’d best go for a swim, then. I’ll activate the device.”

  Saunders tied the rope around his waist and made sure to add an extra knot at the end, just to be sure. When he’d secured the other end to the ship and climbed onto the edge, Simms and Eddy gave him a final nod before he launched backwards.

  He edged down the rope, feeling the burn on his hands. As he reached the ocean below, the spray from a wave splashed his legs with cold water, making the thought of dropping his entire—almost nude—body in there unbearable. With one forceful release from the rope, he sloshed into the water, immediately dipping below the surface as a wave crashed over his head. He spun in the water, restricted by the rope around his waist, gulping in a noseful of salty seawater which hit the back of his throat, making him want to spew. When he surfaced, paddling with his arms and kicking his legs against the undercurrent, he looked up.

  The ship had already sailed further on, or the ocean had pushed him back, either way he was no longer directly beneath it. Overhead, instead of a rickety old bucket airship with holes in the sides and mismatching propellers, he saw an Eptoran reconnaissance ship. It was glorious in its construction, with polished wood planks that seemed to sparkle despite the lack of sunshine. Carvings of repeating patterns etched into the most prominent planks. If anything, Sandy had overdone it—an airship that had travelled across the world and back wouldn’t look as though it were fresh out of the warehouse. Still, he couldn’t fault the effect. The balloon canopy looked like a pristine single piece of beige cloth instead of a patchwork of multiple colours. To his eye, it looked exactly how it should look. He could only hope that the Eptorans wouldn’t see anything odd about it.

  Three faces appeared on the deck, waving down to him. Eddy stuck his thumb in the air and Saunders returned the signal. He’d spent quite long enough in the cold water, and the constant bobbing and sploshing of the waves was starting to make him feel sick. The rope tightened around his chest and he gripped onto it. As he rose out of the water, something dripped onto his head. The clouds were finally opening up to release the deluge of rain. As if he could get any wetter.