Bandits

Chapter 13: The Hunt

Daedalus' cabin, large as it was, felt crowded and chaotic. Officers were gathered around the table speaking in harsh whispers. Gerard sat on a wooden chair, leaning against the wall. Vane stood, beefy tattooed arms folded across his barreled chest, glancing occasionally at Gideon. Gideon sat on a wooden stool near the door, listening halfheartedly to the discussion.

It had been over an hour since Daedalus had called the meeting but he was nowhere to be seen, and Gideon still wasn't sure why he had been asked to come. The topic of the officer's secret debate revolved around the fate of their prisoners.

"Drop them, first chance we get," one officer said. "The Middar Pass is just barely out of our way. Slaves are always in demand on Middar, especially strong healthy ones; and the girl, that pretty one, she'll fetch a decent price with the Drivers."

"And what of that girl?" Another officer said. "She's got no place on a skyship. My gut's telling me there's something more to her than it seems. I'd wager my mother's soul she's worth more than a slave's price."

A bead of sweat broke out on Vane's thick brow. He elbowed his way to the table. "We can't sell her to the Drivers."

The men turned to him, surprised by his outburst. Vane straightened up, his intimidating form dominating the conversation. He cleared his throat.

"We can't sell her to the Drivers," he said again. "It's a waste of merchandise."

"What're you on about, Vane?"

"She's worth more to," he paused looking at the officers' faces. "Us, elsewhere. I won't say more."

One of the officers, a man with a fitted brown jacket and a closely trimmed beard laughed. He leaned across the table taunting Vane. "And we're just supposed to take your word for it, eh? Just cause you say she's worth something you expect us to believe you?"

"I don't know, Percy, Vane might be right," another officer spoke up. "There's something special with her. She's not an average member of a crew, why sell her like one?"

Daedalus entered the room. The bandits stood straighter. Behind Daedalus, several other people entered the already over-cramped cabin. They were officers from the Opportunity. The Captain wore a crisp dress uniform, white with green and gold trim and epaulets. Behind the captain stood Tarleton, his eyes scanned the room. Despite his torn uniform, he managed to look dignified. The others didn't look so well dressed. The rest of the officers wore mismatched pieces of their green uniforms, wrinkled and torn, mixed with simple rugged clothes lent to them by the crew. They were all unshaven, save the captain, as razors were off-limits.

The outlaws looked confused. Needless to say, it was very unorthodox to have prisoners present at a meeting regarding their own fate. The Wraith's officers shifted uncomfortably, no one wanting to bring the point up to the captain. The imprisoned soldiers looked equally unsettled. In it all, only Daedalus looked completely unfazed. He calmly examined the room then motioned for space to be made for the newcomers around the table.

"Gentlemen, this is Captain Firmin, of the Royal Temaritin Navy." The Captain gave a slight nod, his face like stone. "I would ask you to give him your attention; what he says now will determine the fate of his men."

The men murmured, speaking in whispers to each other. Captain Firmin and his men showed no fear, their expressions showing only grim resolve. The Captain cleared his throat and stepped toward the table. He looked at each of the men in turn. The men returned his gaze with suspicious looks and icy eyes. The Captain took a deep breath.

"My men and I are emissaries from the Royal Court of Temaritis, flying under the orders, and under the protection of His Majesty, King Cepheus. Our voyage is of the utmost importance and needs to be resumed as soon as possible."