With a final look around the flight deck, Adena nodded. "You have the watch, Jake."
He saluted. "I have the watch, aye, Captain."
She returned to her cabin, undressed and slipped beneath the covers. It took her a few moments to realize Mr. Phibuli sat on his perch, a silent presence in her cabin as she reached to turn out the light. "Everything all right, old bird?"
Bronze and brass glinted as he turned his head. He opened and shut his beak twice then blinked. "The jury's out, Adena."
Something in his voice made her sit up. "How so?"
He gazed at her. "At least Zared remained in his booth during the alert."
Adena frowned at the non-sequitur. "That's good to know, but you avoided my question."
He turned his head away and said no more. Adena gazed at him for a few heartbeats then shrugged and settled down. It didn't take long to fall asleep.
Zared laid on his cot and stared up at the ceiling. The alarm woke him with a start. Going to the door to investigate the reason for the disturbance, he jumped when a sharp knock sounded and a crew member stuck her head into the cabin to tell him to stay put. He'd done so willingly, but every change of course made him wonder what was going on. The anxiety and the swaying of the ship as it maneuvered made him feel nauseated.
After several minutes that seemed like a lifetime, the all-clear sounded. The airship moved under way once more. He debated going to the flight deck to find out what had occurred, but thought someone would've remembered him and told him if danger was at hand. He turned onto his side, punched his pillow and tried to sleep. It took time, but eventually sleep claimed him.
He dreamed a woman made entirely of silver or mercury stood by his cot, looking down at him. The expressionless face regarded him silently, then she reached down and touched his mind. An icicle drove into his brain, and he opened his mouth to scream, but the pain vanished as suddenly as it hit, leaving him cool and calm. The woman nodded and withdrew her hand. Zared slept on.
Chapter 5
Greg woke the next morning in a state of confusion. He stared at the ceiling, mind still fuzzy with fatigue as he tried to work out where he was. Soft fabric touched him everywhere, and eventually he worked out he was lying in a bunk bed. At arm's length to his left, a curtain hung from a rail, closing off the space in which he lay. His pulse returned to something like normal.
This is good! I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed. And no one's beating up on me, either.
The air smelled clean and fresh instead of the fetid reek of the slave pens. His skin and hair no longer itched with crud, lice and fleas. He moved his legs and winced when hot pain surged from his feet. Memory slowly returned, creeping into his conscious mind like a timid kitten. The steady purring of engines from somewhere helped him remember. Ah. I'm on the airship. It wasn't a hallucination.
The curtain rustled then opened. Greg turned his head, feeling his neck muscles ache with the motion. A man in a seaman's striped jersey looked down at him, and Greg recognized him.
"How're you feeling, mate?" the man asked.
Greg tried to speak, but his mouth felt like dried, cracked leather. The man nodded understanding. He poured a glass of water from a bedside carafe and helped Greg sit up to drink.
"Thanks." He smacked his lips. "I feel like someone's taken a mallet to my hide and beaten it flat."
The man chuckled. "You look much better than when you came aboard. My name's Conner, by the way, ship's steward. What's your name, mate?"
"Greg Cole."
"Okay then, Greg. Are you ready to eat?" Greg's stomach rumbled loudly by way of response and Conner grinned. "I'll take that as a yes, then. Give me a few minutes to rustle something up for you. I'll tell the Skipper you're awake. She wants to talk to you once you've eaten.”
Greg reached out and touched Conner's arm as he turned to leave. "Your skipper. Is she the tall lady with the tattoo?"
Conner nodded. "That's her. Captain Adena Nightingale's her name."
"Thanks."
Conner left. Greg laid back in the bunk, listened to the quiet thrum of engines and savored the first peace he'd experienced since coming to the world.
Conner returned a few minutes later bearing a tray with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, an apple, fruit juice and something resembling coffee. Greg had wiped up the last bit of egg with a slice of toast when a knock sounded on the bulkhead outside. The curtain opened to reveal the woman he'd encountered on coming aboard. She wore different garb, a long seal-brown leather duster with black furred collar, and a top hat of brushed ocher felt. A pair of brass-bound goggles hung around her neck.
"Hello, Mr. Cole, I'm Adena Nightingale, Captain of Oculus Nightingale." She addressed him in a rich contralto. "Welcome aboard, sir."
Greg sat up, conscious that he didn't wear a stitch of clothing under the bedclothes. "Thank you, Captain."
They shook hands. The captain unbuttoned her coat, revealing a fine silken shirt in steel blue and fawn breeches secured with a wide leather belt. She pulled up a stool, straddled it and regarded him for a long moment. He studied her in return, noting the olive complexion, well-defined cheekbones and dark, intelligent eyes. After a moment, she smiled.
"You're not from this world, are you?"
"I don't think so." He rubbed a hand over his head, noticing
