Thistle in the Sky | #NONC2022 | ✔

Chapter Six

Farah had few doubts as to why she'd been picked for the Verulux exploration team. Jhaṛa had named her overall competence, survival skills, and capacity to detect conscious life as the reasons for her selection, but the eagerness with which the rest of the crew let her go in their stead said more. They were happier to let the captain put her in danger than to venture into it themselves. In the brutal calculus of the sky, it made a measure of sense: Farah did not have a job on the ship that nobody else was qualified for. Yet she would not have been surprised either way.

The investigation team gathered atop the Ariomma only an hour later. Baskoro checked equipment as the scout and ship's pilot, Endah, sized up the Verulux. In short order, all three were strapping themselves into cloudhopper balloons. The Verulux was now tethered behind the Ariomma by a grappling hook and line. Their first task would be to secure a stronger towing rope, unless Gemi succeeded in making contact with the Nectamia again. Baskoro fired up his balloon first. His cloudhopper filled quickly in the weightlessness of the Tideless, and in minutes, Baskoro's feet left the envelope. The heavy rope he carried trailed after him as he navigated towards the Verulux with the cloudhopper's tiny twin propellers.

Farah went next. The one-person, basketless hot air balloon swooped her off the Ariomma much faster than Baskoro's had. Farah quickly turned down its burner. The magic of the Tideless could not carry a person without at least a little lift, but too much would send her sailing into the stratosphere, to asphyxiate long before her cloudhopper drifted back down.

Approaching the Verulux while strung beneath a cloudhopper, utterly unprotected, was a different experience than watching it from afar. Farah gripped her steering-handles so tightly, her knuckles had turned white by the time she guided her cloudhopper down on top of the Verulux's envelope. She extracted herself from her harness and strapped it to the guide-rails. Baskoro was still occupied at the nose of the ship. Unwilling to join him, Farah drew her knife and opened her mind to any signs of life from below.

There were none. The Verulux was small enough that Farah's telepathic range spanned it top to bottom, but besides Baskoro, her mindspace remained empty as she paced. If there was anyone alive on the ship, they were unconscious or sleeping. Farah retraced her steps in search of the Verulux's cloudhoppers. She found their compartment nestled in the same place it was on the Ariomma. A quick count revealed that none were missing. Nobody had bailed off the ship—at least not voluntarily. Farah tucked that information away and struck out again, this time in search of an access point that would not be stifled in hydrogen gas. By the time Endah had landed, she'd found one near the back of the ship.

"Well?" said Baskoro when he joined her. "It won't open itself."

Farah scowled and lifted the hatch. Whatever had decimated the Verulux had broken the latch, and it swung back easily. The ladder below descended into darkness.

"At the front," said Baskoro, pointing Farah down the hole.

Farah knew arguing would return no results. Baskoro would lay down his orders on the grounds that she would sooner run off than warn him if she detected danger from the back of the group—and he would be correct. He also had the power to get her and Kaz kicked off the ship if he reported her poorly to Jhaṛa upon their return.

Still, she could make the best of this situation. Farah sheathed her dagger and climbed halfway down the hole before stopping to mentally scan the ship again. It remained empty. She continued this way all the way down the ladder, ignoring Baskoro's impatience. Her stopping so frequently made him nervous, and she wanted it that way.

"What do you hear?" he whispered when they reached the axial catwalk. He flicked on a flashlight and shone it up and down the long, narrow space.

Farah hid her satisfaction. Baskoro did not know her ability's range, and his nerves were manifesting. When he saw her watching him, he made a sloppy and obvious effort to cover his thoughts. It might have worked in his favor had he taken more care: in his fear, the first thing he chose was a detailed image of one of his lackeys—naked. Now Farah did smile. Baskoro whipped the image back as he realized his error. The first threads of panic tangled his thoughts. Farah looked on in amusement as he scrambled for something to block her that wouldn't lend her more material for blackmail. Baskoro postured as much as the next sailor, but he wasn't immune to the fear his society shared about telepaths.