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The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Sisters of the Bloodwind

Page 55

by Ava D. Dohn


  *

  The golden glow coming from the opened door of the elevator cast itself upon the two still locked in silent embrace. A tall, slender man quietly exited its doorway, quickly followed by several equally quiet officers and crew. As the others hurried to their different posts, the tall man approached Euroaquilo and Darla. He stopped at a respectable distance and patiently waited to be recognized.

  At length the two released each other, Darla giving Euroaquilo a tender kiss on his lips as they parted. Euroaquilo turned to the man, extending his hand. “Captain Asarel, I am grateful for you kindly indulging me on this whim. I am forever in your debt.”

  Captain Asarel grinned. “No, Sir, the pleasure has been all mine! I should not have intruded upon you two, but I have received communique from Mother suggesting we may want to prepare for departure. It will take a little time to get the boilers up and ready the ship. I waited as long as possible. Sorry I had to interrupt.”

  “Yet,” The Captain raised a hand, shaking a finger high. “I will remember your offer of debt! It is a very important matter to remember favors. Never can tell when an admiral can come in handy.”

  Euroaquilo burst out laughing, slapping the captain on the shoulder. “You haven’t changed since our days together, flying those Coriveon fighters. In fact, if I recall correctly, you may still owe me a favor from that time. Remember Leah and all the kissing up to the brass I had to go through to get her as your bunk mate?”

  “Well…” Captain Asarel grinned. “then let’s call this one even.” The two men squeezed hands tight in greeting, giving each other a one-armed hug.

  Euroaquilo spoke up. “Captain, I’d like to introduce you to my adjunct, DarlaUmehahAstrni. She will be standing in as bridge officer in my absence.”

  Captain Asarel clicked his heels together, bowing politely and taking Darla’s hand. “It is my pleasure. No, we have not met, but I feel I already know you well. The winds have spoken your name many times this day. Please, Commander, permit me to officially welcome you aboard my humble ship. Treat it as if it is your home while you’re aboard. Please, whatever we have here is at your disposal.”

  Darla was shocked, her jaw dropping in surprise. Commander?! That was a much higher rank than a wiggle worm. This was almost too much for Darla. She fought back tears while replying, “Th…than…thank you, Captain Asarel. Thank you very much.” She squeezed his hand, smiling, respectfully bowing in return.

  Ignoring Darla’s unsettled countenance, Captain Asarel politely bowed again and then, after releasing her hand, turned to Euroaquilo. “One need not do a lot of kissing up aboard this ship to gain favors. May I suggest we put Commander Darla up in the commandant’s stateroom, right next to your quarters? We have no marine officers of rank on this journey, so the room is currently empty. It is well furnished and should live up to the needs of your adjunct quite well. Also, I would like to request you both to accompany me in my cabin for dinner this eve.”

  Euroaquilo chanced a glance at Darla. It was obvious the day had been very stressful on her constitution. He nodded a bow of thanks. “You are most generous in your offer. Moving my officer to her new quarters will be a minor undertaking, and seeing we must also press the time with private consultation, may I suggest such an offer on the ‘morrow? I also believe my officer needs nutrition soon, for she ‘as not ‘et this day and must be famished to fainting. I request your leave, to allow you to man the bridge for departure, while we seek out some refreshment to satisfy a craving stomach.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.” Asarel smiled. “Tomorrow night will be your night.” he smiled, looking at Darla. “I will send my cook around with the menu. You choose for the rest of us. Decide for us the mouth-watering delicacies we shall all feast upon.”

  Darla stuttered her gratitude.

  Euroaquilo also thanked the captain, adding, “Please, with your permission, notify us of the hour of departure. I do wish to share the bridge with you as we leave.”

  Captain Asarel promised. He motioned to those quietly waiting. Soon all was a’ bustle with hurried officers and crew. Lights blazed across the darkened bridges while monitor screens flashed to life. Servos hummed and motors whirred. Soon the entire upper deck was awash in activity.

  Amid this hubbub, the captain and his guests strolled toward the elevator. Euroaquilo broke the silence, addressing the captain. “Thank you for the permission to return the name of this ship back to when I captained it. It means a lot to me, you know. It was very kind of you.”

  “No, my dear Admiral. The pleasure is all mine.” Asarel grinned. “To have you walk beside me again, like in the old days? No, you honor me to think you still care enough about this old hulk to put you special name back on it.”

  He looked up, thinking aloud. “DusmeAstron? DusmeAstron? Western Star? There’s a song in that name, mysterious. It’s so beautiful, so beautiful. You know, you never did say where you picked that name up from.”

  Darla stared up into Euroaquilo’s face, his arm around her waist, wondering his reply.

  Euroaquilo glanced toward Darla and then looked at Asarel, nodding. “I guess I never did say, did I? Yes, I agree. It is a most beautiful name.”

  Squeezing Darla close, Euroaquilo kissed her on the forehead. The captain smiled, knowing some questions must wait to be answered.

  Arriving at the elevator, its golden lights entreating entry, Euroaquilo and Darla obeyed its siren’s call and stepped inside. Asarel shook Euroaquilo’s hand one last time. “You will be promptly informed of our departure. I am looking forward to our standing the bridge again, together.”

  Euroaquilo thanked him as the door slowly closed. Servos whirred to life and the elevator began its descent to the lower decks. The captained turned to his crew, watching with satisfaction their smooth efficiency. He smiled again, saying to himself, “A well-oiled machine.”

  Outside, steady rains washed over the newly painted name of the cruiser, DusmeAstron. It would faithfully deliver it passengers to EremiaPikros, and to a certain person below, who was seeking a pleasant repast, an unexpected destiny. For good or ill, it dared not say.

  * * *

  Section Four

  The Forges of Hell

 

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