Catastrophe Jones

This is Issue #79 of DeathWatch, Book II: tentatively called Heart Of Ilona, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find DeathWatch, the first in the series, or start from the beginning of Book II!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

“You seemed friendly with Sollerti,” Jules noted, staring up at The Agilis.

Nathan stood beside her, the both of them in their black cloaks, all but invisible on the dark boards above somehow even darker water. “Seemed nice enough. Hard to gauge Ilonan moods, though,” he replied. “Could’ve just been pleasant to talk to while he was figuring out if he could dismantle my elbow. What about you and Nix? She seemed ready to peel you.”

“It’s… A family thing,” Jules said lamely, turning to look at Nathan squarely. “Einin–”

He was already shrugging back the cloak; his arm gleamed dully in the starless night. He looked over at her, and said, “Ready?”

“Guess so. Don’t know how we’ll even take off out of here,” she said, willing to let any real conversation drop, at least for now. If they survived all this, they could talk later, about the million reasons her heart both sang and wept each time she was close to him. “Think we could put it on auto lift while we both cast off?”

She wondered if he had things he needed to say, as well.

He said, “We’ll make it work,” and leapt from the dock–how fearless he always was, how willing he was to leap, so much like herself, it made her heart ache–and caught the net rigging that hung from the pulled-in fins, untied a rope and dropped it down.

Jules caught it easily and began to pull herself up, hand over hand, her jaw locked with determination.

They scaled the ship, rolled over the rail, and came up short as they were faced with the grim stares of uniformed soldiers pointing weapons at them. They wore shrouds and masks and goggles, ready for the air, and their armor covered them entirely, hiding their expressions, their intentions.

Then again, their intentions seemed clear, pistols and aetheric tasers pointed without hesitation.

For a long moment, there in the moonlight, Jules wondered if it had all been a trap of some kind, if Nixus somehow hadn’t forgiven her, when suddenly–

“Agilis!” cried a familiar voice. “Quarter on deck!”

The soldiers pulled their hoods and goggles away, pulled down their masks, and revealed themselves, just about as shocked at the revelation of Jules and Nathan as Jules was about them.

“Brett?” Jules said, her eyes widening. “Hugo? Ana? Desri–” Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the crew of the Jacob, very much alive, very much right in front of her. She could feel her heart in her throat. “How–”

Her heart ached, seeing the nearly two hundred souls flooding the deck, come to embrace her. “Oh, mercy,” she wept, laughing, kissing cheeks and slapping backs and gripping hands. The overwhelming relief warred with the somber knowledge that her own crew, her crew… Was gone. But these beautiful Westlanders, to the last, were alive. It was Sha’s crew, and they were alive.

“Conas? Conas is féidir é seo a?” Jules clung to the wave of familiar humanity that held her. How? How can this be?

Nate.

She turned and looked at him as he watched the reunion. He mouthed the word ‘Legatus‘ and shrugged to her.

Jules closed her eyes and let her cheeks burn with joy and shame and hope.

“We saw the Hunt.” Hugo sounded lost, his throat working as he swallowed back fear and grief and confusion.

Looking up, Jules saw a small grouping surround Nathan. They reached to touch him, his tattooed skin, his metal arm. He, too, gripped hands, slapped backs, caressed cheeks, embraced his brothers and sisters. This was his crew. These were his family.

“You killed that monster,” Ana whispered.

“He killed you.” Brett sounded furious.

Nathan chuckled, with as much ‘Nate-ness’ as he always had. His lips twisted in that crooked grin that left Jules faintly breathless. “I don’t remember much. I hit him, and we rolled, and suddenly, there wasn’t any ground. I fell. Then it’s a big black hole –”

Jules saw his face, saw the lie for what it was, and felt the punch in her gut that was the warning for all the nightmares they would each have to account for, to one another, later.

“–likely for the best,” he continued, still grinning. “Then, some kindly pirates fished me out of the sea, mended me, added some …accessories, and though they desperately wanted me to stay — how could they not? — I told them I had to get back to everyone else. So, I jumped off their airship, flew down here, and set about finding Jules.”

“…accessories?” Ana wondered, looking bewildered.

“Jumped?” Brett matched Ana’s expression.

Hugo’s voice was the most incredulous. “Flew?”

“Well, there’s this one.” Nate showed off the arm they’d been looking at. Then, he gestured for folks to step back. Ever one for a display with flair, he shucked off his cloak entirely, with more than a little theatrical flourish. The crew let out an audible gasp, as one, to see the shining metal at his shoulders. He raised his wings, flexing them, flaring them out, and they burned lowly in the night, the barest hint of moonlight giving them a strange aura of bluegold.

“Holy absolute fuck.”

Ana stared, mouthing mercy.

All of them stared, gawp mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Oh… Oh–”

Hugo nearly fainted.

“Nate?” A small voice peeped.

“Ellie.” Nathan’s voice was quiet and easy; he was, of all things, smiling at his crewmates, relaxed as though they hadn’t each all been through hell in the last few months. Relaxed as though he weren’t standing there with an eight-foot wingspan in copper and gold and bronze and brass, all gears and pistons and intricate feathers.

Relaxed as though he hadn’t died and come back. “How’s my favorite Timekeeper?”

She uttered a brief sob and ran to throw her arms around him.

He caught her in an easy embrace, then steadied her. She and the crew stared at his arm, at his hand, at the way his new prosthetic seemed so easily a part of him, burnished and impossibly strong.

“You fell,” Ellie said, and then looked at Jules. “He –”

“I know.” Jules nodded to the young TimeKeeper. “I was in my own cage, only gettin to watch,” she said, her heart too full to quite capture all that she felt.

The crew fell to discussions of that night, the hunt, what they saw, how they remembered it, what had happened to them, since those days, their captors, their torment. Some had what seemed ‘easy’ lives, though they were still treated as slaves, as animals, while others had been brutalized more than they wanted to say. All of them felt more than a little bewildered as to the changing of circumstances; all Nathan would say was that they had a benefactor, an Ilonan who changed his views of Westlanders.

It was too much to take in, and Jules wanted to give everyone as much time as she could, but they had to be ready to launch at dawn. “Agilis!” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “This ship isn’t going to be too much different than the Jacob. A little smaller, but when’s size ever really mattered?”

* * *

NEXT

This is Issue #78 of DeathWatch, Book II: tentatively called Heart Of Ilona, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find DeathWatch, the first in the series, or start from the beginning of Book II!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

The march in the night air was quick, silent, and desperately awkward. Jules bit her tongue hard enough to bleed, to keep herself from saying anything as she strode next to Nixus, all but running to keep up with the taller woman’s long strides.

Nathan and Sollerti walked ahead even faster, shoulder to shoulder, each of them eyeing the other without rancor, curious as to the weapons and strengths of the other.

Jules wore a dark cloak, as did Nathan; accompanied by the officers, they weren’t likely to be bothered, but at the same time, no one wanted any questions. At the docks, which were inordinately busy for the wee hours, Nixus stopped, and looked back at Jules. “You haven’t said much,” she noted. “That is not like you. Have you learned to hold your tongue?”

Jules looked up at Nixus and said nothing, simply waited to be shown where she should go.

“I liked you better when you had fight left in you,” Nixus said, sounding disgusted.

Jules shrugged, her shoulders slumped. “I liked you better when you weren’t vindictive about shit I can’t control. What, you want me to not be happy my husband’s alive?”

“I wanted you not to hurt my brother. You don’t understand what you did to him,” Nixus said, and this statement wasn’t a stab, like all the rest had been. Instead, it was low and aching. “He had a purpose, in the Army. He wanted that — but you inspired something different–”

A rather large grouping of pilgrims had docked, and was making their way up one of the gangplanks. The sudden influx of unwashed human, talking loudly, laughing, jeering, reminded Jules of something, and she felt white sheets of lightning fear crackle up behind her eyes.

“Shut up,” Jules said, or tried to say, but her tongue felt numb. It was like slipping, but not at all. It was more like remembering.

“Excuse me?” Nixus snapped.

“Shut up.” Jules panted, backing away from the gangplank, flinching from the grouping as they split like a river flowing around rocks, surrounding her, Nixus, Nathan, Sollerti. The rowdy pilgrims continued along the docks, headed for the main.

She saw, on more than one of them, when their cloaks fluttered, that they were wearing armor.

The black armor of Tenebrae.

“Nix–” Jules said, and her voice was lost in her throat.

Nixus turned back, and her hand went to her sword when she saw the fear on Jules’s face. She looked around, and saw the same soldiers, and laughed. “It’s fine, Westlander. You should be thrilled. We listened to your idea. Fight them in the air, yes? We called in pilgrims of our own. Every city state within Intemeritus Posito. To the Kriegs, they look like passengers. Pilgrims for the coronation. But every one is a soldier. We’re sending them off tomorrow, before the main offensive gets here, to stop them before the warships get over Ilona proper.”

Jules’s stomach squirmed with fear. She had a sickbelly anxiety in her, and she hurried her step, saying, “But Tenebrae?”

“So long as you don’t keep them at your back, it’s fine,” Nixus laughed. “Besides, they’re Plaga’s men now, and they got rid of the corruption in the ranks. He’s far more of an idealist than his father or brother ever were. He’s a man of honor.”

The queasiness that still roiled within Jules wasn’t precisely eased, but Nixus had started walking again, dismissive and in a hurry.

Nixus and Jules caught up with Sollerti and Nathan, and Nixus waved a hand at the ship. “There you go.”

Jules stared at it — it wasn’t a passenger ship. It wasn’t broken down.

“That’s… a Domitor,” Jules said, looking over at Nixus.

“That’s The Agilis,” Nixus said, glancing over at Jules. “She’s yours. My brother bought her for you. Why, I’ll never–”

“You know what?” Jules said, turning on Nixus, clenching her fists. “I’m tryina be polite. I really am, Summus, but y’make it damned hard. I saved him. He saved me. I didn’t ask for his love, and I told him more than a hundred times it would never work. I never lied. I never lied to him, and just because he cared for me when I bled, just because he made me come, you right bitch, don’t mean I owe him my heart!”

“So you don’t love him?” Nixus pressed, leaning in, baring her teeth.

“Maybe I do, an maybe I hate myself for it! How could I love a man I can’t forgiv–” Jules stopped short, staring at Nixus, furious.

“What’s that?” Nixus wondered, cocking her head to the side, crossing her arms over her chest, looking smug.

For a moment, all Jules could do was stare, breathing heavily, struggling not to cause a commotion that would garner the attention of the soldiers that had finally left the docks. “He let them all die, Nixus. To spite me. I can’t look at him without knowing that,” Jules said, defeated. Tears rolled over her cheeks. “Are y’fucking happy now?”

“No,” Nixus said softly, reaching to put a hand on Jules’s shoulder. “But I respect you for finally being honest — not just with me, but with yourself.”

“Oh, you’re a fuckin peach.” Jules barked with laughter, bitter.

“I believe that you love him, Westlander,” Nixus said solemnly, glancing past Jules, to the ship. “I believe you, now.”

Jules looked back over her shoulder at the ship, and then back at Nixus, and said, “I don’t suppose he bought me a crew for it? I’m right fucking amazing, but I’m not sure Nate and I can run one of these all on our lonesome.”

“You’ll have to figure that out on your own,” Nixus said, looking back at Jules. “I’ve still got a hell of a lot farther to go tonight. We all do.”

“I’m not running,” Jules said to Nixus. “This isn’t an escape for me.”

Nixus cracked a smile and said, “He’d have gotten you a Kriegic ship, if he thought that. Our ship means you’re on our side.”

“Are we friends, Nixus?” For all the previous hostility, Jules felt her heart lightening, felt the weight of such unacknowledged misery lifting off her shoulders.

“Friends?” Nixus said, frowning slightly. She looked as though the word were distasteful on her tongue. “Nos non sunt amici, Jules,” she said, shaking her head. “Friends can never inspire such fury.”

Jules heart sank all over again, and she lifted her chin, ready to lose herself in planning with Nathan any time now. She felt a little silly, having opened herself up to that. She should’ve expected that response. Then again, it made it all the more fiercely touching as Nixus stood taller, her back straight, as she offered Jules a salute, closing her fist over her heart.

“Sorores sumus.”

* * *

NEXT