DeathWatch No. 51 – What Do We Do?

This is Issue #51 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

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* * *

They could see the trail The Maxima had left before they found the ship itself. From 10,000 feet, the ground was a patchwork quilt of farmlands and rivers, sprawling cities and remote villages. There were deserts, but they were small, swallowed slowly by advancing populations and advanced terraforming and irrigation techniques. “There,” Kieron said, pointing out the small dark patches in a river valley to the southeast.

The descent made the crew nervous; there was a giddying sensation, a strange and horrible feeling of lightness that brought the stomach to the throat, and those who stood at the rails wore grim faces. They sank out of the last of the misty clouds and were closer to the ground than they’d been in months. As the TS Jacob drew closer, passing the blueblack clouds of smoke, the scents of sweet char and bitter ozone clung to everything.

“I didn’t want to believe you,” Sha said, staring out against the sky, looking at the ground below.

An airman who suddenly realized what the scent was began to vomit over the rail, sobbing.

Nate’s hands curled into fists and he bared his teeth shaking his head. “This can’t be,” he hissed. “Someone’s… it was a mutiny. Abramov would never. Jules would never,” he said, refusing to accept what he could see.

Far below, sprawling villages lay in ruin. Houses, farm plots, animal grazing fields, the animals themselves, and every other living thing was burnt beyond hope. Everything was blackened to ash, trees so hot they split through the bark and steamed still, in the quiet air.

Every last thing was dead and smoking.

Not a soul moved on the ground, not a herd animal or yardfowl, not a worker or child.

Where people had obviously begun to crowd and run, there were vast piles of blackened bone shrouded in ash and smoking meat.

The crew looked to Sha, and more than a few of them wondered, “What do we do?”

“Go faster,” she told them. “Catch up. For the love of everything you believe in, catch up.”

* * *

The Maxima was not too far ahead after too long, but it would not respond to hails. Those aboard the TS Jacob watched as great gouts of aetheris were churned through a modified engine to spray below. As the gelatinous mist fell, several members of the crew worked together to ignite it.

It made a sound like shrieking thunder, and flamed blue silver all the way down.

Raining fire.

Far below, the people in the village looked up to see twinkling lights falling from the sky. Kieron could just make out the shape of a child reaching up toward the clouds when suddenly the aetheris burned through his skin. Half of his face was gone before he could understand enough to scream, but by then it was too late. He dropped to the ground, smoking, blackening, thrashing even past death as the electrical current in the liquid caused his body to convulse. His mother had moments to understand what was happening to her child before she could make a decision about what to do for him, but then she was smoking, melting as he was.

Kieron felt his gorge rise, and he turned away from the sight.

They drew up alongside The Maxima, and hailed again. The comms officer and recruits looked shellshocked as they watched the carnage continue. People and animals attempted to flee, but the cloud of death was too big and too fast; it consumed everything under the sky, and scorched the earth until it smoked blue, and smelled like electrified meat and mud.

“We have to stop them,” the Captain said. “Short of ramming, what can you give me?” she asked her officers and their recruits, standing in the main comms room, looking at schematics.

“Let me go over there,” Nate said. “I can–”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Sha snapped. “If it isn’t them doing it on purpose, something’s gotten control of them. If everyone on board The Maxima has been compromised, you going alone isn’t going to do anything except get you killed. Give me something else.”

Kieron stared at the schematics, thinking hard about anything he may have ever learned about ships like the TS Jacob, and those like the Maxima, but in the horror of the situation, he felt woefully unprepared, and unable to focus. “What about, uh, can’t we, ah — can we overload their comms system, somehow? So they can’t use their own radios for coordination? Or to — to — to force them to talk to us?”

“Oh! Yes, I can — I can — I can –” began one of the recruits, looking suddenly excited. “I can do that!” she said, nodding, almost feverish in her desire to help, her short black hair bobbing as she nodded vehemently. “I’m gonna need, uh, some parts, though–”

“What’s your name?” Sha asked the woman.

The expression on the woman’s face as she answered was worried, as though she’d spoken out of turn and was giving up her name to be punished. “Hana?”

The Captain turned to Nate then, and said, “Quartermaster, you’re on this. Coordinate with Comms and first-deck technics to get Hana what she needs. Doubleshares and promotions for the fucking lot of you if you can get me Abramov on the line in less than an hour.”

“Aye-aye,” saluted Nate, who immediately turned to Hana and the group he’d been given.

“Aye aye!” said Hana, eager, and she began rattling off a list of what she needed to the people assigned to help her.

While they were engaged, Sha turned back to look at Kieron, the boatswain, the master gunner, and the rest of her officers. Her expression was grim as she led them out of the comm room and into the adjoining room. “If we can’t get them to stop,” she said evenly, meeting the eyes of those in her circle, “we will have to put them down.”

Most everyone nodded in silence, their expressions as grim as hers.

“Gunner,” Sha said, “Get me everything you’ve got, and get it ready. They’ll get a warning shot, and then you take out their engines so they can’t be doing what they’re doing. If the Maxima puts up resistance, based on their size, their capabilities, we’ll have to punch it and run, because if we miss, or don’t incapacitate them, they could take us out much easier than we can take them.”

Kieron glanced over his shoulder at Nate, who was engrossed in his duties, and looked to Sha, shaking his head, looking horrified. “You can’t mean th–”

Immediately, the Captain turned to look at Kieron, and shifted to put the shoulder of her tallcoat near his face. She pointed to her shoulder, to the stripes and raptor there, and said “Brody, what is this?”

Kieron blushed hotly, and said, “The Captain’s insignia,” through his teeth.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t mean, airman,” she said warningly, leaning in so he could hear her clearly. “I wear this, not to remind you that I get to make the hard decisions, but to remind me that I have to make the hard decisions. You get me?” Her eyes were fierce, then, and unforgiving. “I don’t want to, but if it comes to shooting down someone I love — a whole ship of someones, in fact– or instigating an actual all out war with a power that could wipe us off the map because we turned into the monsters everyone says they are? I will blow The Maxima out of the fucking sky without a second thought–” She pointed her finger at Kieron and jabbed it directly into the center of his chest, baring her teeth. “–and you will follow my orders to help me do it. Is. That. Clear?”

* * *

NEXT

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DeathWatch No. 50 – I Can’t Tell You

This is Issue #50 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

“I need the Captain,” Kieron said, looking at Nate.

“She’s gone to bed,” Nate began. “And anyway — are you drunk? You stumble out of the meeting like you’re going to throw up. I find you out here sleeping,” he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I need Sha,” Kieron said, shaking his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said, looking apologetic, but firm.

“This is too fuckin much,” Nate growled. “You’re crew, which means you’re mine. You got a problem, that makes it my fuckin problem. You go through me, and I go to the goddamn Captain, Brody — stop making this stupid.”

“She’ll know what I–” Kieron began.

“Damnit, Brody!” Irritated, Nate rolled his eyes and moved to haul Brody down the deck. “Fine,” he snapped. “We can go visit the Captain,” he growled. They marched across the boards, and Nate only barely resisted the urge to pull Kieron’s arm up behind up and force him to move double. He rapped on the door of the Captain’s quarters, but didn’t bother to wait for a reply before he pulled it open and shoved Kieron in. “Tell her,” Nate said.

“Tell me what?” Sha said, turning to look at them. Her expression turned from minor annoyance to shock and worry when she saw the glassy, nauseated look on the recruit’s face. “Kieron? Who was it? What do you need?”

Nate looked frustrated; obviously he was missing something — he didn’t know why the captain knew about Kieron’s problem more than he did. Normally on so many things, he wouldn’t care, could roll with the punches, but somehow this seemed more important, seemed like something he should know about — and for Sha to know and not have talked to him, it was either completely unimportant, or very, very important. Given his status as Quartermaster, he thought he should know what was going on, at the very least.

“The Maxima,” Kieron breathed, his expression full of pain. “Find the ship, Captain. You have to get to them, before they do it.”

“Do what?” Nate wondered, furious. “Sha, what in the name of all the blue fucks is the kid on about?”

Bright eyes looked haunted; the Captain pressed her fingertips to her forehead, briefly. “Fuck me,” she breathed, shaking her head. “We know their general whereabouts for two weeks from now, not their charts, I don’t know how we–” She stopped racking her brains, and looked to Kieron, who merely looked expectant. “He’s got Jacob’s curse,” Sha blurted, looking at Nate. Kieron didn’t flinch, so she imagined, at least for the moment, that it was the right thing to do.

Until Nate exploded. “What?” His eyes were wide, but his face was red, and his hands curled into fists.

“Nate–” Kieron began. He didn’t want this to turn into something stupid. They had to move fast.

“You didn’t THINK to fucking TELL me?” he said, furious. He wasn’t staring at Kieron, however — he was looking at Sha.

Kieron tried with the Captain, hoping cooler heads would prevail “Sha–”

She answered in kind; it was easier to slip into bickering than for either of them to comprehend what Kieron’s distress could mean for those they loved aboard the Maxima. “Fuck you! It wasn’t my secret to tell!” she snapped.

Nate pointed an accusing finger, baring his teeth as he snarled “I’ve had him doing jobs he could’ve fucking DIED on if he got a sight while in the middle of–is THAT why he fucking fell off the ship, Captain? Is that what I wrecked my arm for? Because you were keeping secrets?”

The level of tension was simply too much; Kieron tried again to get either of them to pay attention, but they were both so caught up in shouting at one another that he had to get their attention by any means necessary. He grabbed the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be the table upon which Sha had a few books and maps resting, and upended it toward the shouting couple. It crashed, sending things flying, and made both Sha and Nate flinch, startled. “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FIND ME THE MAXIMA!” Kieron shouted, his eyes wide and wild, his voice louder, angrier, more desperate than it had ever been.

* * *

The pilot changed course on Sha’s orders, even as the navigator squawked and snarled about getting them discovered by the Ilonan ground forces, but when Sha then commanded them to go to full speed for as long as possible and send out a shortwave for the Maxima, the crew complied with speed. Something was up. Something was wrong. They fell into ‘duty’ mode and simply did what they were told as quickly and quietly as possible.

Once the ship was set to go, Sha herded Nate and Kieron into the maps room and pulled the door shut.

“I can’t believe you didn’t–” Nate began, looking furious.

“Shut up,” Kieron said, his fingers pressed to his temple. “It was my choice to keep it to myself, don’t yell at her about it.”

“I can fight my own battles, Brody, but thank you. Nate, shut up, seriously. It wasn’t my secret to tell. He was getting the same benefits from being around the aether engines that Jacob was. No reason to think he wouldn’t do just fine–”

“–until he fucking didn’t,” Nate said bluntly. “Jacob had plenty of close calls — Brody’s condition is a risk I should’ve been aware of. What do you think I’d go telling everyone what he can–”

And then it hit Nate — the sudden overwhelming dread that comes with remembering something. “Brody — for all of this, I knew what Jacob could do. What happened to him. So unless what’s happening to you is drastically different, I only got one question: Why are we going after the Maxima?” He reached out a hand and put it on Kieron’s shoulder, his expression begging. Don’t say it. Do not say it. “Who’s dead?”

Kieron closed his eyes, remembering the taste of salt and copper and fire, the site of Abramov’s face as he begged forgiveness, and the way his own throat burned as he tried to speak. “If we don’t stop them from what they’re about to do, Nate? All of them.”

* * *

NEXT

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With Apologies to Crane, et al

I am not always
reminded of you

(in truth,
less than you might imagine,
but more than I like,
still)

but when I am,
I find myself
overwhelmed with remembering you

as older than I am
now,
rather than older than I was
then.
I imbue you with knowledge
I am sure your present self has,
but your past self likely never knew.

We were all children,
and if I want forgiveness
for the sins of my youth

(petty and horrific
as they were)

then I suppose I must forgive you
for yours.

Sometimes,

however,

I wonder what it would be like
if I were never forgiven,
what it would mean for me
to not forgive you,
what I could do
with that power;

I would still likely crucify you,
if I could,
just to see you suffer.

I never pulled the wings off flies as a child,
never tormented something in that way,

but I could see myself doing it to you,
plucking your limbs
and letting them drop,
still wriggling,
immune to the sound of your screams
as though I could not hear
something so tiny
and so obviously insignificant.

I gave you weight,
I give you weight,
still,

but God you are

just

 

 

so

 

 

 

 

heavy,

I fear I need
to put you down
for good —

for my own good.
I must eat the rest of my bitter heart,
and finish it–

finally

–relish it,
because it is bitter,

and because it is my heart.

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To See Your Face

I remember the time
you wanted it more than I did.
It was maybe the once,
and when it was over
you still made me feel
like you’d done me
the world’s most darling favor
by letting me get you off.
Every time I open a drawer
and roll out the subject,
I hope I unzip the bag
to see your face.

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Duel

The thrust
of your argument
is bladed

and already slick with my blood
from the last time I failed
to dodge quickly enough.

The point
of what you want to say
is barbed,

and if I respond,
it will catch in my mouth
and hook my cheek;

you will land me
with an easy pull,
as you always do —

it’s just that some time,
you will run out
of straw men to burn,

and you will pick me up
as the next piece of kindling,
without a second thought.

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