Bandits

Chapter 6: Treachery

"Sunrise" aboard the Wraith was a deceptive term. It was the shift change between the fourth watch and morning of the new day. But since the suns rarely ever truly set, the name "sunrise" had always bothered Gideon. The Captain had told him many years ago that the term came from Old Regius, before the Rift Event, back when there was a real difference between night and day. Sailors on Regius had used the term sunrise to help keep track of time and the name just stuck.

Today, sunrise was the start of Gideon's shift on watch. The job was monotonous and boring. But at least it kept him out of the harder labor and rope work for the day; but that still didn't make it much easier to get out of his hammock.

The wood floor was hard and rough to his bare feet. Crossing to his small trunk on the other side of the room, Gideon put on his boots and slid a knife down into a sheath concealed in the leather. It was more out of habit than anything else. Like all the other members of the crew, Gideon had armaments much deadlier than the short knife. It was really just a good luck charm. It was hardly long enough to even be considered a weapon, but just having the knife in his boot always made Gideon feel more comfortable for some reason. He opened the chest and pulled out a loose brown shirt and a belt. After quickly getting dressed Gideon hurried out of the room toward the mess hall.

Gideon's breakfast was simple. The meal for the rest of the crew wouldn't be served for a few more hours, but since he'd be stuck up in the crow's nest till noon, he got his food early. Two hard biscuits, some jam and honey, and a small pitcher of water. The highlight of the meal was certainly the three thick strips of bacon sizzling on the wooden plate. Gideon sat alone in the empty mess. The cook, Jackson, had brought out the food then retreated to the kitchen to prepare meals for hundreds of hungry men. The lanterns that hung from the ceiling beams flickered as they swung gently with the rhythm of the skyship plowing through the void of the sky. Other than the sounds of creaking wood and his own chewing, the room was silent. Just as he was finishing his meal, a soft creak at the other side of the room caught Gideon's attention. Turning quickly, he saw Vane quietly entering the room, shutting the door behind him.

Vane locked eyes with Gideon, his expression unreadable. He had a twisted smile on his face, but his eyes were cold. He walked straight over to Gideon with long silent strides. Gideon felt his pulse quicken. As Vane neared the table he cracked his neck and blinked away sleep, making two snake tattoos on the top of his head slither. His calmness and quietness was unsettling.

"Morning, farm-brat," Vane casually sat on the bench across the table from Gideon. "Sleep well?"

"What do you want, Vane?" Despite his primal sense of danger, Gideon was in no mood to be toyed with.

"That's sir to you. You're talking to an officer, lad." Gideon's fists clenched. Vane only appeared amused by Gideon's show of resentment.

"What do you want?" Gideon was indignant, but felt his legs trembling below the table.

"What, a man can't walk about and talk to one of his shipmates?"

"Not at five thirty in the morning. What do you want? If you've nothing to say, then go back to bed. I've got work to do."

"Ah yes, the watch. Where ever would we be without the keen watchful eyes of our favorite, easily distracted little farm-brat?" Vane reached across the table and grabbed a piece of Gideon's bacon. He eyed the crispy meat then took a bite.

"Is that why you're here? To criticize my job as a watchman and take my breakfast?"

"No." Vane's smile shrank and he became deadly serious. "I came to tell you that if you see something out there today, anything worthy of note, you don't tell the captain, you don't ring the bell, you tell me. Understand?"