Episode 9 - A Dark, Deep Place. And the Hollow Beyond.

  Chapter 85 - Masks

  My dogged search for Captain Moreau is rewarded when I finally stumble on him and his seconds packing a trailer for their day-trip to All-Markets. Not yet loaded, there are several crates filled with the most valuable metals that Terri has prepared from our scraps - bundled wires of gold, copper, and aluminium - that her vulturine symbiont extracted from the ruined technology pulled out of the ground by the teams. A second crate has circuit boards and other technological scrap for reuse, and a third broken glass. A blue tarp is half piled over the goods, protecting them from the settling white dust, but pulled back for inspection as the trailer is loaded. The secondary water trailer is nearby too, Wesley’s hart scratching its side against the multipurpose utility hooks mounted on each side of the back frame above the rear-wheels.

  Moreau is deep in an argument, his cavernous voice booming as I duck under the tongue of the storage trailer, propped up with a pair of trestles and symbiont harnesses hanging empty. “I am sick of this discussion. I have said no, and that is the end of it.”

  “I have leave from my own Captain,” replies Rhett’s voice.

  “I do not care. I have no space spare on my team, nor men willing to travel with you.”

  I gulp and pause, reconsidering my timing, but Wesley has already spotted me from his perch leaning against the water trailer with his arms folded. The corners of his eyes wrinkle with pleasure at the prospect of more drama.

  “I am not asking for anything beyond walking with you…”

  Wesley whistles sharply, cutting through Rhett’s words. “You come for a favor too,” chimes the Bosun, greedy eyes bright behind his respirator, interrupting the exchange to throw me directly into it.

  The argument stops on cue. I scowl and step clear of the front of the trailer to present myself to Captain Moreau.

  He’s sitting off the back underneath the open roller door, his she-wolf lounging in the shadow below with her chin resting on her front paws. Her furred eyebrows lift at the sight of me, pale blue eyes flicking my way. I watch her paws shift as she sits up from her recline. Moreau has his feet hanging, a ragged grey tricorn hat not dissimilar to Rattakul’s barely containing his wild mane of silvering black hair.

  Rhett visibly flinches when he realizes it’s me, slinking further back from his father. His eyes land once on my face, then slip sideways, and he spins, turning his back and planting both hands on his hips as he completely retreats from the argument.

  Moreau leans one-handed from his perch on the back of the trailer. “What do you want? Scout. Captain Rattakul send you to bother me too?”

  I linger watching Rhett’s back a moment longer, the tight straps of his harness perfectly outlining the silhouette of his shoulders despite the heavy environmental suit he wears underneath. Pell is looking over his head back at us, dark eyes gleaming, pedipalps bobbing. Her eyes have no pupils, only a gleaming point of darkness on each where direct light is absorbed. I wonder what it might feel to look through them?

  I forget my hesitation. Moreau is a man who respects others getting to the point. “I’m calling in our agreement,” I say, lifting my chin and meeting Moreau’s scowl.

  He guffaws under his mask; the sound coming out with a rush between the filters of his mask. His Lupus sniffs and turns her head away from me, tucking her nose into her paws as if she has decided this conversation isn’t even worth watching. “Now? I refuse. I am spending only as long as I need to in All-Markets, and that is it. We’ll be on the move tomorrow for a special contract. We’ve got live plants in this shipment.”

  “I’m not asking you to stay and wait for me at All-Markets. Captain Rattakul’s Navigator tipped me off that there is an intact platform on the way to Fujian. You know what I'm asking. I want to split up on the way and rejoin at Fujian,” I say, carefully repeating the plan Rattakul went over with me.

  “Is that so,” grumbles Moreau.

  “I’ve more than earned it. My services charging your batteries are worth more than you are paying Aquila for me. I’m making you money every time I top you up.”

  Wesley clicks his tongue. “The cost of your water and food breaks us barely even…”

  “Wez, I don’t really care about the specifics of the math,” rebukes Moreau with a piercing gaze at his Bosun. “And how long would you need exactly?”

  “Five days, I expect we could split them off just before the tablelands,” says Moreau’s Navigator from just around the corner, hunched over a tablet where I’d completely failed to notice him working. I always forget about the slim, greying man; he seems to disappear into the background around Moreau’s giant presence and the more dynamic personalities of the Captain’s leadership team.

  “That’s rough country. They’ll get lost in the rock mazes down to the delta," moans Wesley, uncowed. “Captain, you can’t be serious?”

  “I’m the least likely person to get lost,” I reply, and despite my better judgement let myself a rude gesture in his direction.

  “Captain!?” he barks, returning it and straightening his cap after. His hart turns to look my way, dark eyes gleaming. “You cannot be serious?” I turn one shoulder away from Wesley, ignoring him and facing back to Moreau, who is the only person I need to convince.

  “Don’t push my patience, scout. There is nothing I like less than your particular brand of insubordination, and all the sly fucking women who employ it.” Then with a sigh Moreau slides down from the back lip of the trailer, the dust rising around his feet as he lands. No part of him seems his age as he moves. Like Regina, his confidence has given long life to his youth. His she-wolf under the trailer wrinkles her muzzle and tucks her nose deeper within her paws as the dust rises into her face. “Unfortunately, we made a deal, and I am a man of my word.”

  I grin. Rhett spins, hands wide. “And yet my request is denied?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

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  He chokes back his reply, muttering something under his breath that I cannot hear through his respirator.

  “What was that?” barks Moreau.

  Rhett straightens, his arms stiffening at his sides. Every softening of his edges I’ve slowly seen over the past few months dissolves before my eyes, his indifferent mask and clenched jaw returning before my very eyes. “Nothing.”

  I can’t help myself. “And what exactly is your problem with letting him come with you to town?”

  The she-wolf lifts her head, eyes instantly on me. Wesley flinches. Moreau pauses, his jaw rolling as he chews his thoughts underneath his respirator with an expression like he’s only just restraining himself from some kind of outburst. “I hardly see how this matters to your request. Stay in your lane.”

  “And it costs you nothing to give Everett one small favor,” I continue, ignoring his hint.

  To my surprise, Moreau laughs. “Does it now? And what do you know about the costs? What do you know of the prices of setting precedents and exceptions for some and not others? Regina spoil you too with little favors for management? Special treatment for the few, bah. It costs the trust and cohesion of others. So I say no. Son or not, there will be no special treatment in my crews.”

  “He’s your son. Other people would understand…”

  “Yes. My son. All the more reason for it to be how I say it is,” snaps Moreau. “I will respect our bargain, scout. It is obvious Preecha has had her hand in this, and I will hear nothing but a tongue-lashing I have no desire to grit my teeth through if I do not keep to our bargain. It is done. This discussion is over.”

  I look across at Rhett, who tucks his arms behind his back and clears all expression from his face. Wesley snipes into the silence hanging between father and son, ignorant of - or taking great enjoyment in - the weight that lingers. “Try again later, little Wolf-Pup.”

  Rhett’s eyes flash as he glances at the Bosun, then he shifts to hide his gaze in the sunlight's reflection.

  “Don’t test this much further, Bosun,” grumbles Moreau simply in reprimand. “You have a camp to make and lead, given myself and Cardoso will be in town. You are all dismissed unless you are helping to pack my wagon.”

  Rhett spins, soldierlike in the stiffness of his frame, and marches back towards Rattakul’s gondola. I glance once at Moreau, then trot after him, waiting until we are clear of listening ears before tapping his elbow as I draw close.

  He flinches, spinning sharply, then falters and sidesteps when he sees me. Instead of slowing, his pace seems to quicken.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I call.

  “I’m guessing you were why the Captain granted me leave then,” he mutters as I take several rushed steps to keep up. I’m not sure how he can walk so much faster than I can.

  “Hey. That is not my fault, whatever the fuck that was.”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re not coming then?”

  He stops. Pell twitches on his shoulder, one leg coiling and stretching down the arch of his collarbone. Rhett lifts a hand to his forehead, touches his face shield as if to realize he can’t massage his forehead, then shakes his hand out instead. With a sigh, “Do you have maps?”

  “Rattakul has the maps. Are you coming?”

  “Would it kill you to use her title?” He turns on me, voice rising with a twist of frustration he fails to hide. “Do you want me to come?”

  “Don’t blame me for your father being shitty.”

  “I’m not…” his jaw stiffens as his teeth click together, and he looks away from me, then repeats his question. “Do you want me to come? I’m not asking it again.”

  “When did what I want start mattering?”

  He throws his hands in the air, an exasperated hiss escaping his lips. “What do you want?” he suddenly barks, raising his voice.

  “I’m not trying to start a fight,” I reply back, unable to prevent my voice raising in pitch.

  “And yet here you are, chasing me when I clearly do not want to talk about any of this.”

  “Do you ever want to talk about anything?”

  “Hmm. This how you normally win friends?”

  My mouth hangs open, and I recoil at the sudden venom in his tone. “What the fuck?”

  “I am trying,” he growls, a sudden desperation is his voice knots my insides with a force I didn’t expect. “I am fucking trying, okay. And then you get like this out of nowhere and make it very difficult.”

  My voice shakes as I take a breath, drawing in close to him. “It’s not my fault your dad is shitty, okay.”

  “It’s not… It’s not fucking about him. It’s not even fucking about you!” he hisses, his face shield coming so close to me our masks almost bump into each other.

  We both come to a silent halt, staring at each other but equally incapable of working out how to progress the conversation further.

  I don’t know what to make of this. He made more sense to me with his walls up as another management jockey barking orders at me. I looked for the gun; I looked for his armor. In return, Pooka snarled at my side, and I held my shields just as close. Every layer of the masks I wear feel like they’ve been peeling off lately, exposing skin to the air that has never felt its touch. I didn’t get to talk with Rattakul about it like I thought I would when I sought her out…

  I lift my hands to shove him back off me then hesitate when I can see my fingers trembling. I can feel unexpected moisture in the corners of my eyes. I’m sure at any other time I would have been glad to spit fire, but my dizzy spell earlier has left me feeling frayed and vulnerable today. What energy I had, I used to hold my ground against Moreau. Maybe I’m just feeling lonely after chatting with Patrick and remembering what it felt like to be treated like a human instead of an asset or a battery or a weapon.

  My voice almost breaks as I reply. “I’m sorry… I-”

  Rhett shrinks. “No, fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… for fucks-” he spins away from me, marching several paces apart and plants his hands on his hips as he stares at the sky. His shoulders sag as he takes a breath, Pell continuing to watch me over his shoulder.

  Without turning back to me, he speaks softly and deliberately. “Despite how it might seem, I don’t hate my parents. You might think less of me for not fighting with them more, but I am not you. I have what power I can wring from my half-baked social standing, my own hands, and Pell. And I have shadows I stand in that stretch as far as I can see. I have always” - he sighs -“I am trying to… to be better than them. And I will admit I am not always successful at it. I will admit to making mistakes… Captain Rattakul gave me an order that I intend to fulfill. But, for once… I can give you a choice here… if you want it.”

  I twist my hands together, running my fingers over the scarred knuckles of one hand. The blisters never healed perfectly. I’ll have some pale, spotted blemishes for the rest of my life as a reminder of that night. The worst of it scarred thick over the knuckle beneath my index finger, giving it an unsightly bump.

  I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to learn what taking my masks off feels like and realize that people find who I am becoming just as difficult as who I was. I don’t want having Pooka, and everything that has come with him, to put more distance between me and other people than I already feel.

  Rhett is not scared of me. He’s weary of me, but that’s a different thing. He is trying, in his own stumbling way. I can’t say I’d be any more graceful.

  “Please. Come.” I say.

  He nods. “Okay then.”

  ? Mysteries of Sacra [Isekai] [Weak to OP] [Beast Companion] ?

  by Robert Wolf

  Thrown into a world of beasts and magic, Kai must fight to survive and hold on to the last pieces of his humanity.

  What to expect:

  In a world where kindness is weakness and morality is a luxury only the strong can afford, Kai must decide who he wants to be and what he's willing to sacrifice.

  Umbra, fierce and loyal, and Scry, wise and offlandish, refuse to let him lose himself to the darkness growing within.

  But every step forward brings him closer to a prophecy no one dares to speak.