Outrageous Fortune-Errant Freight Book One

Chapter 11

Jagati spent most of the two hours after the escape from Dyar's Canyon charting a course for Nike, one twisty enough to keep Tariq off their backs.

Once it was complete, she left the bridge to find Rory climbing down from the envelope where, he said, some leaky cells needed patching. Learning his next stop was the aft port engine pod, she asked if he wanted her help.

His refusal was less diplomatic than panicked, but then the last time Jagati attempted to wield a spanner in an engine pod they'd had to set down in the middle of the Barrens while Rory repaired her repairs.

Some might find such mechanical incompetence embarrassing. Jagati looked on it as honey in the comb and headed to shower off the clinging Dyar's Canyon dust.

It also gave her time to think.

By the time she emerged, the dust was little more than a violet smear on the shower floor, and she'd come to a decision. A glance out the circular window as she dressed showed a soft landscape rolling beneath a shredded lace of clouds. Even from eight thousand feet she could see a few optimistic patches of green in the Allianz hill country, though the Keepers' Almanac augured another spate of serious winter storms before spring officially sprung.

It was the possibility of those storms that had the Errant curving around the base of the eastern Amazons, rather than daring a passage. The massive range, which bisected the northern half of the continent, was dangerous under normal circumstances, but aeronauts caught flying in an Amazonian storm were more likely to end up with a tree in the Forest of Memory than arriving at their destination.

In fact, it was only two months past that the loss of the CAS York in the Amazons had crammed the papers and radio waves. The news, she recalled, hit Rory especially hard, as he'd served on the York for the last years of the war, and been close friends with the 'ship's first officer. Even months later, he had a tendency to become quiet at odd moments, taking himself off to his quarters or the machinist's room, where he'd bury himself in some mechanical project or other.

Come to think of it, there'd been a lot of prosthetics for Eitan to lose since the York's fall. She bet old Siddhartha, the 'ship's cog on the Kodiak, would have a pollen day with Rory's behavior. Lucky for Rory, Jagati's skills lay in other meadows, so she did with his issues what she did with her own.

She ignored them and instead headed up the passageway to John's quarters, where she put an ear to the door and heard water running. Sounded like John had also opted for a shower, which meant her timing was perfect, as long as John was going for more than a quick sluice.

She raised her knuckles to the door and rapped softly. When he failed to respond, she tested the brass knob and found the door unlocked.

Taking it as a sign from the Keepers, she pushed the door open, slid inside, and closed it behind her, lest the chill of the passageway infiltrate the small, steam-warmed space. Immediately she looked to her right, whence said steam billowed, and found the bath's pocket door had been left half-open, revealing a portion of the cabinet-sized shower stall's flexi-glass screen.

As she looked, a flash of dripping elbow appeared on the other side of the screen, followed by a portion of equally wet torso. Her heart kicked into overdrive and her eyes locked on that torso which, she had to admit, showed the captain didn't stint on the PT.

It also showed the angry line of an old knife wound, the remnant of what had been a very bad day, just above his hip.

A hand slicked with soap—sage, her nose told her—slid over the scar, and then John shifted again, leaving her looking at nothing but fogged flexi-glass.