Scrimshaw regarded her in silence, those dark sapphire eyes revealing none of the workings going on behind them. She had to wonder what orders xist captain gave, aside from helping with communications. Xe was not typically shy to demonstrate xist knowledge—except where it seemed to reveal anything at all about xist people.
“At least,” xe said after a cautious pause, and with what seemed like hesitation, “to prevent the destruction of the next one.”
The joint arrival of a Cutter airship and the Yu’Nyun starship did not escape notice at the port city of Talonpoint, on the edge of Fall Island. At first, there were only curious onlookers, those who had already been along the raised dock structure. But others ran back toward the high walls of Talonpoint’s proper city, and soon their audience grew. At the crowd’s periphery, Talis saw the gleaming tips of halberds marking positions taken up by the local security forces.
The docks were inland, raised off the ground. Fall Island was named for the cascades of sand that tumbled from its edges, an endless supply that overflowed upward from a source somewhere underground in the heart of the vast desert. Docks built at the island’s coastline would be worn away too quickly, and the pouring sands would make it dangerous to those crossing to and from their ships. Airships had landing gear, retractable feet for cases where the ships’ engines would be powered down and the lift balloons allowed to slack. Instead, Wind Sabre had engaged her grappling anchors. Even though the journey to the temple and back would take several days, Talis wanted her ship ready to move.
The Yu’Nyun starship settled onto tripod feet which separated from the smooth hull on hinged legs, and the maw of its hatch opened downward, landing with a thud on the dock below. It was as silent as ever, so Talis had no way to know whether the alien ship had powered down its systems, or if they, too, were prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.
A field of dark-skinned faces filled the docks around the two ships and Talis itched under the weight of the secrets they needed to keep. She ordered Dug to lower the boarding ramp from their lower bay. He gave her a long look but followed the order without comment. Shirtless, as he’d understood her intent, he opened the hatches wide and made a show of turning the crank, lowering his scarred self and the platform to within hopping distance of the ground.
The crowds were quick to spot him and pulled back a fair distance from their berth. So long as no one committed any offense on this trip, she knew the sovereignty of a ship’s captain would keep Dug from harm. As long as he didn’t actually step foot onto the island, where his presence alone would be considered a crime. As long as the aliens made no grievous offense to their goddess.
Talis dressed for the desert, protecting as much of her skin from the sands as possible. Slim twill pants tucked into her boots. Long flowing cotton blouse with a high collar, which she’d bought on another Bone island. A scarf that she wrapped around her hair and looped generously about her neck so that it could cover the lower half of her face if she tugged it up a bit. Goggles on her head, ready to pull down against the sand and the glare of ocean-filtered Nexus off the dunes. Fingerless gloves.
She looked down at the revolvers on her desk, weighing the decision. If all were right in the world, she shouldn’t need them. She knew how to behave among Bone. For years she had considered Dug’s village a second home. She was going on a peaceful pilgrimage to bring diplomatic emissaries to a house of worship.
But all was not right with the world. Hankirk had put the wind up her back, and as the distance grew between the storm cloud and Wind Sabre’s aft, she couldn’t help but feel it had been a mistake not to lock him in the makeshift brig in their cargo hold. She’d installed the steel-barred compartment after a client hired her to transport an exotic pet he’d purchased a few islands away. It ate the mattress in her cabin before they realized the ‘pet’ was, in fact, a wild animal fresh out of the jungles. Talis had to sleep in the crew’s quarters for a week until they got the animal to its new owner and she could reclaim her ruined captain’s quarters. Rather than swear off such errands, she’d invested in the cage. Even if they never had to transport another saber-tooth gryphon, she figured on it coming in handy for locking up sensitive cargo while they were in docks. The aliens’ first payment was behind those bars at the moment, but maybe she should have swapped it for Hankirk’s miserable self, just to keep an eye on him.
It occurred to her that she might be protecting the man. Dumping him on that island kept Dug from Hankirk as much as it kept Hankirk away from her. Not for the first time, she wondered at her reluctance to kill him. She’d done others for much less, hadn’t she?
But had she? Anyone else she’d killed, there’d been more of an immediacy to it. She was being attacked. They were going to hurt someone else. They were firing on her ship. They were faceless enemies threatening her life, her friends, or her livelihood.
Maybe she just knew Hankirk too well.
She shook herself from her musing and picked up the guns, slipped their holster over her arms, and clipped the buckle that rested below her breasts. Their weight was solid and uncomfortable against the sides of her ribs. Returning to dig around in her wardrobe locker, she found a long sleeveless vest, also in the Bone style. A gift from Dug’s late wife. It hung only a few inches above the ends of
