DeathWatch No. 44 – Goggles And Hair And All

This is Issue #44 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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* * *

A hundred thousand things has Kieron heard in his life that have made him doubt the veracity of the speaker, including learning things that shook his worldview to the core. None were as unbelievable as what he’d thought he just heard. “I’m sorry — his wife?”

“Juliana Vernon O’Malley,” the Captain said, laughing. “Herself in the flesh.”

“Was that her, earlier? In the, ah — riding the –” Kieron stammered.

“Wakeboard. Yes, that would’ve been her, goggles and hair and all,” the Captain said, looking amused. She turned dark, merry eyes toward Kieron. “If you want to meet her, and I’m certain you do, go help everyone get shit secure, and we’ll all join the raiding party.”

Kieron’s eyebrows went crooked again as he looked over to his Captain, saying “Uh. The what?”

“Boarding party. Raiding party. We’ll be bringing back a load of fresh foods from the Maxima. Couldn’t be a settlement ship, so it ended up being a resupply ship. It’s not like we’re the only scout ship out here, Brody. Just the fastest,” Sha said, winking.

It didn’t take all that long to get things sorted; ropes were lowered from one ship, caught by the others, and everyone connected one ship to the other, knots and buckles, specific rigging knots that could be undone in a flash, if necessary, so the ships could go their different directions, especially quickly. The pulley system for loading goods was set up, and a few of the crew planned on staying aboard to keep things running smoothly. “Don’t worry,” the Captain told Kieron. “They’ve been aboard resupply ships before, and some of the crew from the Maxima will come aboard, so they get to talk and be sociable with new folks.” The Captain let a load of crew go down before her; she smiled, watching them, something like a mother duck overseeing her brood.

Kieron noted the pride, the fondness in her features, and he couldn’t help but realize he was making those faces, as well. “I like it here,” he said aloud, almost surprised at himself.

“On board the Jacob? In the air? Hovering over enemy territory? Standing at the rails?” Sha wondered, smirking.

“On your crew,” Kieron said. “I think Jet would like it; I really do.” He held the rail and looked down toward the ship below, eyes seeking out the faint ghostly outlines of all its riggings, the boat beneath the massive balloon holding it aloft. “If there’s a storm–” he began.

“Then our pilots and their pilots will work it out, and if we need to, we separate and do team dives to get back on board,” she finished, shrugging.

“Team Dives?”

“Brody — do you want to go visit the Maxima, or not?” Sha asked, turning to look over at him. There was a pause, a full four beats, and then her eyes widened. “Did you see someone?” she asked. “Someone from that ship?”

“No, no,” Kieron said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that when I saw my father designing these things, when I read about them — they were supposed to be islands unto themselves. Fully contained. They were perfect for what they’d been designed to do. You’ve made a thousand thousand little modifications, and now we’re tethered to this other monstrosity, and I guess–”

“You climbed out on a fin and were nearly crushed to death, and you still go up in the rigging and out on the fins to observe and assist the technics, and you’re worried about a rope bridge?” the Captain asked, laughing.

Kieron blushed, smiling at the Captain, and shrugged, saying, “Okay fine you have a point. Let’s get on over there so I can meet the infamous Jules.”

* * *

Getting down the massive rope relay wasn’t hard, even with things being damp and slick; when he reached the other ship and hopped down onto the boards, he was given a hearty welcome by other crewmembers who clapped him on the back, shook his hand, and in general, seemed to be in quite good spirits. He found himself grinning warmly, and shook hands with several people before he managed to see Nate and his companion, and went over to say hello.

As he approached, he couldn’t help but watch Nate’s face while he talked to the woman. His normal smirk had been replaced by a genuine smile, while his eyes, often squinting in concentration, irritation, or indignation, were wide and bright, watchful and curious. He looked at Jules as they approached, and the way she stood, lightfooted on the deck, as sure as if she were on the ground. The wind played with the flame of her hair, a curling tangle the color of wild carrots that was only barely restrained by a gogglestrap. She wore flight leathers and only came up to Nathan’s shoulder, but even though she was petite, she was larger than life, the way she laughed and talked, vibrant enough to bring color to the whole ship.

“Ears burning, Brody?” Nate wondered as they got close. His whole face was bright with joy, grinning mischievously. “Jules? This is Recruit Kieron Brody.”

Kieron turned and looked at Jules again, and offered a salute, watching her. She snapped one off in return, immediately, grinning. “Well aren’t you a tightass,” she said brightly. When he blushed, she burst into laughter and reached out to clap him on the back much like Nate often did. For a petite woman, there was a lot of force in her, and the blow against his shoulder blades was impressive. “I like this one,” she said to Nate, winking. “A pleasure, Kieron — can I call you Kieron? — it’s always good to meet the men and women keeping Nathan in line.”

“Ohgod,” Nate said, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna go see if the Captain’s come over yet.” He walked off, leaving Kieron with Jules, who looked him over for a very long time, studying his face with a measure of curiosity. She was silent, playing with an errant curl of her carrot-orange hair, her greyblue eyes staring quite intently until she finally wondered, “So… Kieron Brody. You wouldn’t happen to be Delia’s boy, would you?”

Delia.

Kieron’s face went brittle, and Jules’ face quickly did as well. “Fuck the stars,” she breathed. “Did she die? Tell me she’s not dead. I am the sky’s most oblivious asshole if she’s passed.”

“She’s not dead — at least, she wasn’t when I deployed. The family lawyers are instructed to get word to me by any means necessary if that changes,” Kieron said, his lips tight. “She took ill a few months before I–” he murmured, swallowing roughly, glancing away as he felt the prick of tears stinging his eyes. “How do you know her?”

“Met her a long time ago; your father brought her to an unveiling where I was hoping to get near a ship,” Jules explained. “She told your father to let me pilot it,” Jules laughed. “She was a real boiler, your mother. I think she’s the reason I ended up out here. I’d heard she was ill — I’m glad she’s not turned the worse. Still, it’s terrible. You have my sympathies, Kieron,” she said. She watched him, looked over his face, and her own expression registered sadness and regret.

Kieron nodded, clearing his throat, struggling to push back the unwelcome thoughts of home and family, shoving them back and down. And that is when Juliana Vernon O’Malley reached out and drew Kieron into a hug, pressing her cheek to his. It wasn’t motherly. It wasn’t sexual. It was warm and sweet and the tears that pricked his eyes before threatened to spill. There was a relief so real when he hugged her, he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Delia’s strong, Kieron. She is. She’ll get back up and she’ll write you a letter and she’ll tell you to come home because war is no place for a boy, and you, sir, had better listen to her, because she’s not wrong,” Jules said, releasing him.

“Hey now,” said Nate, returning with the Captain. “Jules, don’t go getting all familiar with–Brody, are you crying?”

“Nathan Einin O’Malley!” Jules snapped, hands on her hips. “How is it you have never once learned to keep your fucking foot out of your fucking mouth! Can’t you see the boy is–”

But Kieron was doubled over in laughing, hooting merrily as he and the Captain leaned on one another. They laughed helplessly, clutching one another and looking at Nathan who had his arms crossed and looked irritated. “That’s it,” he grumbled. “Get it out of your system.”

Kieron barked with laughter, wiping his eyes, redfaced and wheezing. “Einin?” he giggled. “Seriously? Your middle name is Einin?”

“I forget how hilarious it is until I hear her yell at him,” Sha laughed, shaking her head.

“What!” Nate said, exasperated. “It means bird! My mother liked birds!”

“You can’t be too mad, love,” Jules said. “You are a bit of a knob, really. It’s only fair to give the boy a laugh,” she said gently, leaning her head against Nathan’s shoulder, talking quietly so only he could hear. “His mother’s in a bad way. Father’s a worse knob than you. You know the drill.”

“I do. How is it you make everything clear, and difficult all at once?” Nate sighed, matching the quiet of his voice to hers, putting an arm around her. “I should divorce you,” he said.

“Right?” she laughed. “I’m terrible. Run off and marry Sha, y’should. Make an honest woman of her.”

“Are you kidding?” Nate said, keeping his voice low as he watched his Captain laughing with Kieron. “No making her honest. She’d eat me alive.”

Jules laughed, clapping Nathan on the back, agreeing as she said “Like the little bird you are.”

* * *

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DeathWatch No. 43 – Jules Isn’t Proper, Honestly

This is Issue #43 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

* * *

A short-call was sent to the other ship, the briefest of short-range radio blips, from the Captain of the TS Jacob to the unknown ship, requesting parley. It was answered almost immediately, as though whoever answering on the ship was already coming up with their message.

The comms officer called out, “It’s the Maxima, sir. They acknowledge parley request and confirm. They are coming about.”

“It IS Jules!” the Quartermaster crowed. “Captain, I do believe you owe me a bottle of something clear and lovely the next time we hit port.”

“Duly noted.” The Captain’s voice was dry, but had the unmistakable tang of amusement. “Anything else, Comms?”

The massive thing was already wheeling around in the clouds ahead so it could come back and rendezvous even more quickly. It sent back another message that made Nathan and the Captain laugh aloud when they read it after it was transcribed.

Board me, baby.

“That’s not proper channel language, sir,” the red-faced communications officer trainee said.

“It’s all right,” the Captain promised. “Jules isn’t proper, honestly.”

It took another two hours to get things reorganized on the TS Jacob; things had been flung about the decks because of the quick maneuver, and more than one crewmember sustained sprains or scrapes — one unlucky airman even got himself concussed, but at least he was caught on the rail instead of flung off into the deep nothing of the open sky.

“I haven’t been on the boards of the Maxima since… pfft, since I was nineteen,” Nathan was telling Kieron. “Ship’s not as fast as this one–” he began.

“–but it’s three times the size. Lots more crew. Ton more weapons and hold. They had originally thought they could make it a settlement ship,” Kieron finished. “I read the histories. Presuming all that was true, anyway,” he said, frowning slightly. After all of what Sha had shown him, he was distrustful of so much of what he’d learned already. “Were you crew?” he wondered.

“No. Visiting,” Nathan said, and again, he had that near-mischievous look in his eye, the one of fond nostalgia. “Only ever been crew on this ship. Before it was the Jacob,” he says. “When Jacob was the Captain.”

“Was he–” Kieron began, trying to think of a way to voice his curiosity. “She told me a very little about him, but mostly she talks about him in, ah, platitudes. Best of this, best of that. Was he really that much of a legend, or is that how she’s memorialized him? No offense, it’s just that lots of people become heroes when they die, because people don’t know how to remember them other ways.”

“Jacob was… honestly like that. He was smart. He was funny. He was strong. One of the best men I’ve ever known,” Nate said easily enough. “Easy to still miss him, considering,” he notes. “For the first year, people followed Sha because she was his sister, and no other reason; then she showed the crew she could handle being a Captain, and the rest is, as they say, history.”

Right around then, the other ship pulled close, but lower — Kieron could just barely make it out in the clouds, when the Captain returned to his side, staring over the edge. The sound of the aether engine was quiet again, low and humming, soothing to the young man standing at the rail.

Immediately, Nate grabbed a rigging from the side of the rail and began to put it on, eager enough that he got one of the buckles backwards. He struggled to pull the straps around his coat and so instead he peeled the coat off and dropped it, humming to himself, moving rapidly.

“You’re impossible,” the Captain said, rolling her eyes, making no move to get her own rigging or help Nate with his. She looked amused, and then moved off to go tell the boatswain to gather the other crew members so they could learn how to deal with boarding the other ship.

“Brody, give us a hand?” Nate asked, while he fussed with a different strap. He kept leaning over, looking off into the mists, staring down and then leaning back and getting himself settled.

“With?” Kieron said, staring at the Quartermaster. “Buckling you in? Or finding you a sedative? I think I’ve got something for airsickness that’ll help you be sleepy,” he teased. The cloud kept whorling around the ship above, and the ship below, sending cool mists against his face, chilling his fingers, his ears, the tip of his nose. Kieron smiled at the Quartermaster, pleased by the way the man was obviously delighted about something.

“This is an invitation!” Nathan said, reaching up to clap Kieron’s shoulder. “Come on!”

From far, far down below, a laughing voice could be heard to cry up, “Nate. Naaate!”

“I’m coming, Jules!” Nathan’s voice was bright and young, as though he’d suddenly been made a classmate of Kieron’s.

The Captain came back, standing near Kieron, watching the both of them fastening Nathan into the harness that would allow him to carefully lower himself down over the side.

Kieron’s brow rose as he quickly and carefully helped secure the buckles and rings. When Nathan was done, Kieron moved to grab another harness, offering up and saying to the Captain, “Are you going down as well? I can help you get sorted so you don’t have to wait long before you go down.”

“Yes, but I’ll be waiting until they’ve set up the net and pulleys,” she said dryly.

Kieron’s expression was sudden and intensely confused. Wait, then what’s–”

And with that, for the second time since Kieron had met the man, Quartermaster Nathan O’Malley took a running leap and threw himself from the rail of the ship. This time, however, he was in a technic’s harness, and he kept himself from being in freefall, rappelling down until he could pay out enough rope to actually swing. He half-disappeared into the fog of the cloud. His voice could be heard, at least, shouting, “Permission to board!”

There was a pang in Kieron’s chest as he imagined just what he would do if confronted with the ability to see Jet again. Would he throw himself off the edge of the world to get to him faster?

As the answering call from someone aboard the other ship came, Kieron asked the Captain, “So. Who’s Jules?”

Sha looked over the railing, having fondly watched the disappearing form of her Quartermaster, and said, “His wife.”

* * *

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DeathWatch No. 42 – Clear And Holding!

This is Issue #42  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

* * *

After weeks in the sky, the vast expanse of cloudbanks grew monotonous. Everything was always chill and damp; the boards would swell, and the ropes would get slick. Kieron gave himself burn more than once, forgetting to put on gloves, and then slipping when he lost track of what he was doing and strained to look out into the nothing, hoping to see a glimpse of land, a break in the clouds — something.

Anything.

Once, during a storm, a technic fell out of the rigging and broke his collarbone hitting the deck. It wasn’t odd for the surgeon’s quarters to have more than one airman in the bunks at a time.

Nothing about the job was particularly glamorous, especially when it came to information gathering. They weren’t the spies of old, hiding within the country, among the peoples in plain site, they were the sort that hid outside and peered in, listening, hoping to never be detected, staying far and away from any happenings themselves.

The navigator shouted down, “Clear and holding!”

Kieron could hear the Captain call back, “Reading you five-by. Keep us safe in the clouds, ‘gator. Nice and safe and boring!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” It was the same conversation they’d been having for days.

“Awright, crew, listen up!” Nate’s voice was sharp and clear, even in the damp mountain air; when he shouted to the crew, everyone from the topmost rigging to the bottommost fin could hear him. Because of his standing, even the most well-seasoned officers and standard crewmen alike would listen to his orders — he kept things running when the Captain was busy speaking to the navigator or other pilots. Because so much of this part of the journey was waiting, Kieron found himself with the technics, hanging from a rope thirty meters off the deck(no fins for him, for awhile), checking cable locks, and trying to hold very still so he could hear everything the Quartermaster was saying.

A little farther above, the navigator called down, “Still clear and holding! Nothing below – mountain range to port!”

“Yes sir, Gator!” The Captain’s voice pitched well, but there was no way to make any of it sound interesting; it almost would’ve been easy to drown them out, no matter how loud they were shouting.

“We’re waiting for probes to come back with long-distance readings of the ground below; we’re following in this cloud bank to keep from being detected until we can pass behind another small ridge and avoid any potential sensors, so we have to send the probes down, to get information we can’t see from the scopes. So far, there’s been no indication on the ground or in the air that anyone has seen us, and that’s fucking fantastic.” Nate looked earnest, watching around, his bright eyes meeting those of the crew; he liked the people-aspect of the ship, and he was damn good at it.

“Clear and holding!” called the navigator.

While they scudded alongside the mountains, after the last issue with the stuck fin, the reports were to come in twice as often, at least, though at this point, several of the technics were considering making sure the navigator’s non-pilot communications radio stopped working, at least for a time.

Nate lifted his voice again, saying “It means a lot of work for technics who are always trying to improve our speed and our navigational tools, but it also means a lot of you are bored as fuck. ”

A short cheer went up from the crew, to acknowledge his words; the roar of it disguised something the navigator was saying.

Something that, to Kieron, did not sound like ‘Clear and holding’.

Nate stood on the deck and laughed, nodding and waving. “I hear you. All I can tell you is that we’ll be on our way, soon, and–”

Suddenly, proximity alarms began to shriek. “Engines spin up! Hard to fucking port!” screamed the navigator, suddenly, sounding panicked.

“The MOUNTAIN is to fucking port!” called back a pilot, but all the same, the whole ship rocked as the fins and ballonets were readjusted. The engines spun up so quickly, the boards shuddered, and all the canvas rippled like pondwater hit with stones.

The crew scrambled; technics dropped from the riggings like spiders fleeing their webs while others strongarmed their way back up, crawling quickly, and those on deck pulled up their ropes to help them move faster. Kieron spun to adjust his grip, and then flipped the catch on his harness and slipped out, riding the ropes down aways before simply dropping out of the rigging to roll across the slanting deckboards and come up to his feet, swaying.

He stood next to Nate, who was staring off into the white, one hand on a guyline, the other on the butt of a pistol.

The sound was a strange humming buzz, like a doubling of the engine sound of the TS Jacob, coming from far away, thundering closer, a throbbing hum that set the teeth on edge as it rose.

The sound of something coming closer, out of the white shadows of the clouds.

Something massive.

On the starboard side, the ghost of a hulking figure cut through the sky; another ship kissed past the Jacob, and the sky was full of the sounds of the aether engines’ distortion interfering with one another for a brief moment, sounds like warbling screams and long-gone radio transmissions. The ship was gone, lost in the clouds again.

And then a real scream — from off the starboard bow there was the frequency-shift of a sound growing higher in pitch, and then Kieron stood frozen on the deck, staring at the figure hurtling in an arc.

A person.

It swung by the fins, wearing goggles, holding a rope, standing on some kind of board, and banked hard to try to avoid getting tangling in the rigging. It, too, was soon lost in the clouds, but the sound of it could still reach those aboard the TS Jacob.

The sound of brazen, challenging laughter.

Kieron could see the Captain, the navigator, the boatswain — everyone screaming at once, running to their stations, dealing with orders, but not Nate.

The ship settled from its lurch, while people scrambled to make sure nothing and no one had been thrown overboard. Nate had run to the edge, and was gripping the rail and watching the sky with huge eyes. When Kieron came up to join him, a slow grin broke over the Quartermaster’s face.

“Captain!” he cried. “Captain, I think it’s Jules!”

* * *

NEXT

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Too Much

Too much, at times,
is the only thing
I can comprehend.

Too much sweetness
too much bitterness
too much heat,
toomucheverything.

M o d e r a t i o n

was never my strong suit.
I would rather drown in fire
than suffocate
from the world fading away.

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Belief

I did not believe you
when you told me of stars
and I did not believe you
when you told me of flowers
and I did not believe you
when you told me of twinned hearts
and I will not believe you
when you tell me of vows
or rings
or a hundred thousand other symbols
but I will believe you
the instant your thoughts wander,
and the moment your lips do not talk to your eyes
to make sure they get the message to smile.
The truths you are trying
to impress upon me
will leave little mark
while the hundred thousand lies
that fall out casually
will track a rut so deep
they will cleave me from myself
and leave me spilling
the bone and blood
of my self confidence
and trust
into a vast ocean
from which I cannot recover.

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