by Geonn Cannon
She hadn’t quite expected the level of their promiscuity when she accepted Dorothy’s invitation to move in. Sex had never been one of her driving interests. She had gone to bed with two men in the past, not counting her dalliance at sea - she still blushed when that memory surfaced - but those encounters had been what she considered physical outbursts, momentary lapses of lust which were sated and forgotten.
But Dorothy and Beatrice... there was something more there. It may have started as lust, but now it was something much more. She admitted her own prejudices originally led her to believe their relationship was only carnal. They were both women, surely there was nothing romantic about what they were doing. She’d since changed her opinion. The love and devotion they shared was stronger than some married couples she’d known. If the relationship ever became public, Trafalgar knew she would stand to defend them.
For now, though, she would respect their relationship by ignoring the sounds coming from upstairs and focusing on her research. While Dorothy had been searching for Riya Lennox, Trafalgar had spent her time looking into Felix Neville, the lost captain of the HMS Herald. A military man and the son of a military man, Neville seemed to have used his service as a means to travel the world. The RGS had sent over a wealth of letters and journals from his time stationed in Africa and the Philippines which painted the picture of a man more concerned with learning about local cultures than war. He eventually left the service and began exploring as a private citizen. He was a widower with three sons, the eldest of which had accompanied him on the latest ill-fated expedition.
Dorothy had a plethora of maps, and Trafalgar easily found one which covered the area Neville planned to explore. It didn’t seem very removed from civilization, but she knew the forest could be deceiving. Ten feet in the wrong direction could prove fatal even to the most experienced explorer.
Trafalgar mapped the route the Herald’s crew had taken into the jungle according to Mr. Rees’ data. She would leave the details to Dorothy and whoever captained their ship, but she assumed their rescue mission would likely follow the same landmarks. She was uncertain whether they would make the first leg of their journey by air or by sea. An airship could get them to Brazil in three days, whereas an ocean liner might take closer to a week. Whatever they lost in time would be regained in comfort. But she was certain Neville and his team would appreciate their haste. She made a note to Dorothy that they should elect to travel by air.
She was nervous. She liked to present herself as a world traveler, but the truth was she’d rarely been to the west. She took jobs in Africa, the Middle East, China. Her few experiences in the Americas were brief and unmemorable. She had always been so focused on the mission that she’d never gotten a chance to appreciate the fact she was crossing an ocean. This time it would be difficult to ignore that vast and endless stretch of water.
She was no fan of the water since her experience in the necropolis. She remembered being in that cavern, very aware of how thin their lifeline back to the surface was. She’d handled the experience well in the moment but now it was encroaching on her nightmares. Some nights she was back there, alone in a freezing stone grave, Dorothy’s dead body slumped against the wall next to her, and she was overcome with a feeling of certain doom.
A door opened on the upper floor and she heard Dorothy’s laughter, followed by footsteps on the stairs. She looked up from her work as Dorothy breezed past the doorway to the study only to backtrack and lean against the wall. She was wearing Beatrice’s uniform shirt, buttoned wrong, and apparently nothing else. The shirt was long enough to almost serve as a dress, but Trafalgar was surprised by Dorothy’s bare legs and feet. Her hair was also loose and tangled around her face.
“There you are,” Dorothy said. “Trix and I were discussing dinner plans. She doesn’t feel like cooking so I thought we would make an evening of it. I wanted to know if we should make the reservation for two or three.”
“While I appreciate the offer, I wouldn’t want my presence to limit your options.”
“Why--” The humor vanished from Dorothy’s face. “Any establishment that won’t serve you will also never serve me. If that’s your only consideration...”
Trafalgar smiled. “I would be happy to join you.”
“We’re not planning to eat for at least another hour, so you’ll have plenty of time to finish what you’re working on.” Dorothy came into the room, head tilted as she examined the books and notes spread out on the table. “What are you working on?”
“Research for our upcoming expedition. Planning a route, learning what I can about Captain Neville from what the RGS provided.”
“Fascinating.” Dorothy leaned down to examine the books. Trafalgar found herself oddly transfixed by Dorothy’s legs and general state of undress. “Will you be bringing this along with you on the trip?”
“Might as well,” Trafalgar said. “We’ll have to find some way to fill the travel time. Speaking of which, and invitations to tag along, will Miss Sek be joining us on the mission?”
Dorothy shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I don’t look forward to spending that much time apart from her, but it’s comforting to know the house will be left in her capable hands.” She held up the journal. “May I take this?”
“Yes, I’m done with it all for the moment.”
She held the book against her chest. The posture, combined with her unkempt hair and sloppy clothes, made her look like a student at the university. “I’ll send Beatrice down when we’ve decided on a restaurant. Anything you’d care to suggest?”
“Whatever you choose should be fine.”
“So noted.” She tapped the journal. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”
Trafalgar gestured toward the ceiling. “You seemed to be otherwise occupied.”
Dorothy smiled, her blush darkening the freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Quite. Be ready to leave in approximately an hour. Maybe ninety minutes.”
“I will be ready.”
Dorothy left and returned upstairs, while Trafalgar began putting away her maps. Dinner would be good, a nice way to mark the beginning of their journey and bid a temporary goodbye to both London and Beatrice.
Interlude
The café wasn’t doing much business at that time of evening, and Riya found herself the focus of an overzealous waitress who had nothing else to occupy her attention. She had arrived early for the rendezvous and couldn’t do anything but wait. She nibbled on a biscuit, nursed her coffee, and read the news. At the agreed-upon time, her contact slid into the seat across from her. He reached out to grasp her cup, looked into it, and grimaced when he saw what it was.
“Coffee? In London?” He withdrew his hand, disgusted. “Whatever happened to ‘when in Rome’?”
“I happen to prefer coffee to tea.” She folded her newspaper and placed it to one side. “Besides, this ensures you don’t steal my drink as soon as you arrive.”
He smiled. “Diabolical.”
Riya was already signaling the waitress, who approached to take the newcomer’s order: lapsang souchong. Riya remained silent until the waitress had left the table.
“I’ve extended the offer to Lady Boone. She’s presented it to the Society, and now they’re all certainly debating the pros and cons of accepting.”
“Where do you think they’ll land?”
Riya said, “They’ll agree. I’m positive.”
The waitress brought his tea. He thanked her with a smile and took a sip. “Well, the money is being moved as we speak. The first installment will be available whenever they say yes.”
“Good.” She folded her hands around her coffee. “I don’t like the time frame. They’re unlikely to agree before leaving the country, which means we’ll have to wait until they return.”
“Exactly as it should be,” he said. “Their experiences on this mission will make them receptive to what we have to say. It’s why we chose to reach out now.”
“I know. I just wish we c
ould have worked with them from the beginning.”
He shook his head. “A bad idea. If we had interfered in the formation of their partnership, we could have ruined everything. The butterfly effect, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” She looked out the window.
He let her stew in silence for a long moment. He savored his tea. “When will you be going back to 1922?”
“After lunch,” Riya said. “I’ll schedule my arrival so I can approach Dorothy as soon as they return from Brazil.”
He hesitated with the teacup at his bottom lip. “She’ll be vulnerable.”
“I know. It can’t be helped. Time is, ironically, of the essence. We need Trafalgar and Boone on our side as early as possible or all will be lost.”
“Well, if anyone can marry haste with compassion, it’s you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
He winked and relaxed in his seat to finish his tea.
Riya lifted her coffee and took a long drink. It was almost cool enough that it wouldn’t burn her tongue, but she didn’t mind a bit of a burn. She needed the caffeine to bolster her confidence before she went back to the office for her next trip.
Traveling in time was a wearisome affair even when one wasn’t stressed about the end of the world.
Chapter Four
There was a point when land was no longer visible and water stretched out in every direction. Trafalgar made sure she was on-deck when it happened. She rested her hands on the railing and held her breath as the last vestige of solid ground disappeared like a mirage. The ship beneath her feet suddenly felt just a little less solid and her fingers curled around the cold metal. She kept her head up and her eyes open, took a series of measured breaths, and eventually managed to loosen her grip.
She had mentioned her unease about ocean travel when Dorothy revealed that was how they would be making the journey. Dorothy kindly offered to make arrangements for an airship instead, but Trafalgar insisted her anxiety wasn’t worth the time they would lose. She appreciated the gesture but her fear of the sea was something she needed to get over. Dorothy bought passage on a luxury ship in an effort to make Trafalgar as comfortable as possible, and so far it had been working.
Until now, when land was out of sight.
It seemed impossible to be on a body of water so vast that land was nowhere to be seen. If the ship went down, rescue was at least one curve of the planet away.
She caught herself trembling. She clenched her hands until they were still, then pushed away from the railing. It would do no good staring at the horizon now. She would distract herself with work. She had been brushing up on her Portuguese in anticipation of their journey. Neville and other explorers had also chronicled the languages of several tribes who lived in the area, and Trafalgar was trying to learn as much of that as possible, just in case. She was nowhere near conversant in any of the languages but she was confident she could manage in an emergency.
Cora had also sequestered herself. The linguist had been silent on the trip to the docks and kept to herself once they were finally at sea. Trafalgar didn’t know the exact details of what led to Cora’s self-detention in the Wraysbury mental hospital, other than several young women met their deaths, but she knew Cora blamed herself. Dorothy trusted Cora on the mission and her faith was enough for Trafalgar, but she would nevertheless keep an eye on the woman until she had proven herself.
Dorothy, meanwhile, had been in her cabin since they left London. At a guess, Trafalgar had to say it was depression due to Beatrice staying behind. Ordinarily that wouldn’t have been an issue. Dorothy would have found someone on the ship - another passenger, a crew member, a waitress in the dining room - and taken her as a “traveling companion.” This time she was focused on Neville’s journals and maps of the areas he had already traveled.
Trafalgar knew it was a good thing to have a partner who was focused on work, on planning what steps should be taken before they arrived, but it was so out of character that she couldn’t help but worry. She seemed to have come to terms with Desmond’s passing, but Trafalgar knew all too well how grief could find the smallest cracks in which to hide. She decided to give Dorothy her space while they were at sea but also check in on her from time to time, just to make sure she was truly coping well.
Trafalgar thought her own cabin was lovely, if a bit cramped. She had received an outer room, so she was able to open the porthole to let in the chilly sea air. Dorothy had ensured there wouldn’t be any nonsense about denying her an upper-level room due to the color of her skin. Trafalgar was both touched and annoyed by the kindness. She obviously wished it wasn’t necessary and she much preferred those instances when Dorothy forgot it would be an issue. Still, she was doing it to ensure Trafalgar was treated with fairness, so she chose to be grateful.
Her room reminded her of a train berth. Every inch was utilized and there was barely much space to stretch. She wondered how married couples or those traveling with children could bear it. One bed against one wall and a writing table opposite. There was a wash basin underneath the porthole with a small mirror, which she angled so she could see her reflection. Her hair, long and satin, fell across her shoulder like a sash.
Before departing, she and Dorothy had met with a contact named Ignacio Mata. He was visiting England from his native Barcelona and Dorothy decided to make an appointment to see if his unique curse could help them on the upcoming expedition. Ignacio had once found a djinn and wished to know the future. His wish was granted: he had memories of the future the way most people remembered the past. Hazy and sometimes imprecise, but definitely useful. They had only met him once before, but in his mind they were old acquaintances.
He had greeted them warmly. Once they were settled, Dorothy said, “On our last expedition, we required a very sturdy box. Metal, nigh-indestructible.”
He’d arched an eyebrow. “And what supplies should be inside of it?”
“It doesn’t matter. The standard supplies. Ropes, ammunition, a first-aid kit. Enough for it to be clear that the box isn’t empty, but we don’t require anything specific.”
“My, my, very intriguing.”
Trafalgar had smiled. The box had been instrumental in saving Dorothy from dying inside an ancient security system. But if Dorothy wasn’t going to bring up the details, then she didn’t want to be the one to ruin the mystery. She’d asked Ignacio what he’d brought for this mission, and his face fell. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair before he answered.
“You never give me much information. Probably so I won’t warn you or give you information about your futures. So I don’t know the specifics.” He had opened his satchel and held up a small bag. “Painkillers. Very potent, only barely on this side of legal. You... you asked for quite a lot of them.”
Dorothy had glanced at Trafalgar before taking the bag. “Thank you. I’m certain it will make all the difference. After all, the three of us are meant to have a very long relationship, isn’t that right?”
“As far as I know,” Ignacio said. “Please do not make my memory a liar.”
When he was getting ready to leave, Trafalgar noticed his gaze kept drifting to her. She finally called him on it. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Señor Mata?”
“There is nothing to tell,” he insisted. “I just... I’m...” She straightened his posture and smiled, one hand against his chest. “I merely wished to say how lovely your hair looks.”
“My hair?”
“Mm-hmm.” He was moving toward the door as he made the noise, bidding them farewell. Though it was only their second meeting, she already noted that he always seemed very eager to leave after their company. Most likely he was anxious about letting some future information slip if he allowed himself to engage in casual conversation.
Now, aboard the ship taking them to Brazil, she examined her hair in the mirror and wondered what had drawn his attention. Was she going to cut it? Change the style? The idea of a fre
sh look had been swirling at the back of her mind for a few weeks. She thought about cutting it to commemorate Desmond’s death, but she didn’t want to infringe on Dorothy’s grief. He was a good man, kind and brave, but the truth was they had barely known one another.
Still, her hair was very long. It was a very... British affectation. She thought of her mother and the women of her village, the home from which she had been so cruelly stolen. They were bald because it was easier, and women had better things to do than primp and wash and braid themselves all morning. In her memory, it was the men wore their hair long, the warriors who ceremoniously braided their hair before hunting or battle. The mane of a lion and the sleek lines of his mate...
Trafalgar opened the drawer next to her bed and found a set of grooming supplies. Ignacio could merely have been complimenting her hair. Hell, he might even have been flirting. She took a moment to consider what she was about to do. It was a very drastic step to take based on how a man looked at her. But that wasn’t her true motivation, was it? It had merely opened her eyes to a truth she’d been ignoring. She missed her home. She had been so young when she was taken that she doubted she could find her way back, but there was something she could do to honor the place of her birth.
She withdrew the scissors and went back to the mirror.
#
Dorothy was smiling when she opened the door, but her expression went through a quick succession of emotions once she saw her guest. She knew it would be Trafalgar but she hadn’t anticipated such a drastic change in the other woman’s appearance. Trafalgar grinned and dipped her chin, tilting her head to one side to prove the new look was indeed as complete as it appeared. Her head was completely shaved, a smooth dome that shone in the light coming from the porthole behind Dorothy.