Meran had not looked through the spyglass and apparently felt no need to. She was crouched on the roof of the wheelhouse, one arm around the base of the azimuth compass. Talis had stowed the ring in her cabin, and Meran had been less obedient since. She followed them around the ship as they saw to their duties but would then vanish. They’d find her atop the engine houses, ascended on the ratlines, walking foot-sure along the lift envelope’s catwalk or atop the balloon on the weather watch. The woman seemed to be everywhere.
As with Hankirk’s fate, Talis felt burdened by her control of Meran’s power. And so far, Meran had been fairly cooperative without Talis wearing the ring. She was exploring the ship, that was all. Behaved according to fleeting animal interests, like a ship’s cat or monkey. She stayed out of their way, so Talis didn’t figure that trying to get her to stay in a cabin was worth putting on the ring, and keeping it on, to order her there. Stuffing her in the brig with Hankirk wouldn’t lead to anything good. She wasn’t making trouble.
Talis knew in her gut that it was at least partly because Meran intended some mischief once they reached Nexus and had no desire to delay their arrival.
Sophie reported that Hankirk had asked to talk to Talis, after she’d brought him some food and made sure the knock on his head hadn’t resulted in too much damage. That mind, Talis figured, was scrambled enough. Somehow the delusional man thought he was still going to mend their past and that Talis was going to see his side of it.
Sure, kill the gods. Commit quadruple genocide. Become the protector of the planet, or at least over those you deem worthy. Because that’s a thing reasonable people aim for. He’d seemed so normal when they first met. Or she’d been that naïve. The more he opened his mouth, the likelier she was to give Dug what he wanted.
She hadn’t gone down to see him.
And then there was Scrimshaw. Xe stood with her crew on the deck, explaining the features of the alien ships, their speed capability in the spaces between planets, and how they slowed, firing forward thrusters as they entered an atmosphere so the gun houses didn’t burn up and fall off.
Xe was an orphan. And voluntarily so, since Meran could heal xin up without a blemish. But xe wanted the scar. Which meant xe didn’t want to go back to xist people. It was no way to live. Once the whole world knew that Onaya Bone had declared war on the aliens, a lone Yu’Nyun wasn’t going to make it far.
Xe doesn’t have to be alone, said that bastard of a voice in her head. Xe has you.
That wasn’t a road she was prepared to travel right now. Xe was with them for now, on the way to Nexus. Likely as not, Onaya Bone would sort xin out when they got there.
Talis ran her hands along Wind Sabre’s railing and whispered an apology to her old tub. For the mess, for the passengers. For all the troubles of the world that Talis seemed so keen to pull down from high atmo. She promised her ship a proper outfitting and repair. Those upgrades that were long overdue, a polish to all the hardware, and a proper coat of paint.
She wondered what shape the world would be in when they could put all this behind them. What kinds of contracts a captain could find for her ship after an alien invasion. And what would be left of the crew for her to captain once they had their shares and had docked somewhere that could offer other opportunities.
She pushed off from the railing, took the scope back from Tisker and stowed it in the leather case mounted on the wheel pedestal. If they didn’t get to Nexus with Meran and the ring, she could stop her wondering right there.
“Full speed,” she told Tisker. “Let’s finish this blighted mess.”
“Captain!” Sophie cried.
Talis turned to see what the alien fleet was doing, but Sophie had her back to the Yu’Nyun. She was looking off their starboard side now, pointing.
Out came the scope again, as though it had never left Tisker’s hand.
“Helsim’s holy fertile excrement,” he said, and then whistled. He lowered the scope and Talis snatched it from him before he could offer it.
That expletive was a new one, and Talis thunked the brass scope against her eyebrow ridge in her rush to see what had inspired Tisker’s vocabulary to expand so colorfully.
“We’re in it now,” she said, feeling her stomach drop.
Sophie took the scope next and climbed to the top of the wheelhouse with it, where Meran had risen to her feet and crossed to the starboard side to watch the new arrivals with obvious interest.
“Like I said,” murmured Tisker, going through the paces of his joke but without the enthusiasm for it.
A fleet of Cutter Imperial ships, in a lovely and regimented Imperial formation. In Bone space.
Talis cringed to think of the mess they must have left behind at the border crossing.
It was a gallant response to the alien invasion, set on their course well ahead of her own knowledge that the aliens were coming. Hankirk had told her that the Veritors didn’t know about the invasion force. So, someone else knew something that had put the Imperials a step ahead.
She might have been relieved to see them, if she didn’t know the alien
