The Argonaut Society

Episode 11: Plunge

With hostage rescued and rebels imprisoned, all that remained was returning the woman to her people. The young woman had rescued herself, really, shooting her guard and beating him senseless with the rifle while Amelia could only watch in barefaced awe. All the crew had done was speed her journey home, and that hardly merited recognition.

And considering her own state of dishabille after the rebels removed her disguise, Amelia feared shocking the tribal leaders. If she as captain was the face of the Argonauts, then at the moment, the face of the Argonauts looked like a tuppenny strumpet. Half undressed and tattered, hair in wild disarray, face smeared with dirt, pallid from a resounding thump of a headache, and a throbbing, sliced palm inflicted during the initiation ceremony that took place less than 24 hours prior.

Was this still the first week of her honeymoon? She'd lost track of time.

The gentle jolt of the landing brought Amelia back to the present. She joined her beleaguered crew at the hatch to await Director Marsters's arrival.

Failed attempts at adequately pronouncing the young tribal woman's name resulted the crew calling her Eva. She tolerated the compromise with the same scrim-veiled derision she'd shown when Amelia "rescued" her. She had spent the whole of the journey in front of the viewport or attached to the periscopes, transfixed by the landscape gliding under the ship and asking dozens of questions. Now, however, Eva paced the floor in front of the loading hatch, agitated, impatient.

"Let's get this over with," Monty grumbled. The hatch wheel groaned and whined, the mechanism stuck. Muttering imprecations, Monty thunked the door open with a solid kick and it flew down. "Welcome aboard, Marsters."

"Mister Marsters, if you please, Mr. Monterrey. We must always remember our social protocols," the Director admonished, then looked about with admiration. "Miraculously in one piece. Crew and ship. You've exceeded our expectations," he said.

Monty leaned in as he rejoined the group. "Except they expected us to..." He made a discrete gesture of explosion.

Miss Loft joined Marsters, leading a line of assistants bearing special rolling steamer trunks bearing each crew member's name emblazoned on the front in gold lettering. Once matched with appropriate crew members, the accompanying assistants opened the trunks like elaborate origami puzzles to reveal uniforms and accouterments.

Amelia's stomach sank at the sight of the bustled skirt of her costume, but appreciated the accompanying concealed pistol holster Ms. Boon had contrived. She watched the hatch, expecting Alexander to enter at any moment beaming with relief and pride. She imagined, quite unironically, running into his arms, trading witty, heartfelt barbs. Instead, more assistants with boxes and paraphernalia filed aboard. Stung and disappointed, she asked sotto voce when they'd become a traveling circus side show.

"Become?" Monty asked in reply.

Marsters bowed to Eva, who eyed him suspiciously, but nodded in return. "Shall we return you to your people, my dear? All in good time. Our physician will see to your injuries, first, while we prepare for your reunion." He spoke overly loud and slow, compensating for lack of language with abundance of noise.

"I am very grateful for your help. But I'm not deaf," Eva said, her frustration evident. Nonetheless, she followed the medic. Had she been left to her own devices, Amelia speculated, she might have returned hours ago.

Slightly stung, Marsters moved on to his plan for the reunion ceremony, including uniforms, rank order for disembarking the ship, and an address he had arranged for Amelia celebrating the partnership between tribe and Society.

"Why all the hullaballoo?" Monty asked, frowning at his uniform display with disgust. "Can't we just walk her home and float off into the sunset?"

"The Council has impressed upon me the importance of good relationships with the various tribes should current circumstances...well, that is beyond the point," Marsters said. "A ceremony solemnifies the occasion and demonstrates our dedication. We mustn't scrimp."