~
The Solar Wind drew up alongside the Rebellion ship. Grappling hooks shot across to the rail, pulling the Schooner closer.
“There you go,” said Sherman Dougherty. “Come, Paean, Keenan! Let’s get back aboard the Mother Ship! I’m sure both of you have some very impatient sibs waiting!”
“Sherman, you two go ahead,” said Paean. “I’m just going to check on Federi.”
“Certainly, lass,” smiled the old sailor. “Just be careful. Come, Keenan! Let’s meet your sister!”
Keenan allowed himself to be led off the bridge and across to the Solar Wind by Sherman.
What had Sherman meant, be careful? Maybe Federi had missed one or two of the terrorists? Maybe some of them would come to soon? Paean went in search of Federi, a loaded needle with Valeriensis hidden in her hand as self-defence. You never knew.
She descended the stepladder and found the captain and helmsman of the schooner under the stairs. Crumpled; dead. Blood seeping out of their necks. Paean heaved a shaky sigh. He hadn’t just put them under, had he! She recalled the brief conversation he’d had with Sherman about not enough time.
She made her way along the deck, wondering if the other Schooner – on which she had never set foot – had looked as messy. There were incidents of blood everywhere. And bodies. He hadn’t bothered hiding the last ones. Blood had splattered against the bulkheads, and even the ceiling in some places. The further Paean searched, the more sinister the setup got. Her heart sank.
She could see from the way many of them had fallen and were lying that they had been anaesthetized first. But each and every one of those bore the same small, professional incision at the base of their throat. And a puddle of blood. In her mind she counted along as she made her way along the different decks. She found eighteen. Where was Federi?
Eventually she found the companionway to the bilges. The machine room. It was dark except for the dim glow of dials and indicators, and the light falling in through the hatch. She descended down the steps, and froze. There was a solitary figure sitting on a crate in the dusk, its back to her. Sitting so still she only saw it now. It took her five breathless seconds to figure out that it was Federi. And two more victims, sprawling in dark puddles, dead.
She peered at Federi’s back. Was he breathing? She glanced back at his two last victims, and her throat constricted. She couldn’t figure it out – how her gentle friend could be capable of this. It didn’t make sense. She paused for several heartbeats, thinking hard about it, before she could force herself back into motion. Inside that still shape hunched on that crate lived a sweet, imaginative guy who carved puppets and hung jingles on his ceiling. A shy guy who made you coffee if you let the small-talk dry up. A man who had been a friend to her when she needed it most. No conditions whatsoever. Whoever else was in there with him, that Federi needed her right now. She walked up to him from behind and saw from a minute movement of his back straightening that he was alive, and aware of her.
“It’s me,” she said quietly and put her hand on his shoulder. He had his stiletto in his hand and was staring at it. The blade was clean, and shimmered softly in the semi-dark. “Come, Federi. We’re moored to the Solar Wind!”
He turned slowly. She got a fright. Was that him in there, behind those eyes full of haunted shadows? Did he even recognize her?
“Aw, to hell with it,” he said darkly. “Can’t you leave a man alone when he wants to finish things?”
“Sorry, no,” said Paean, feeling icy cold. “Not in general. Definitely not you.” Her hand tightened around the syringe she had half forgotten about.
“Hand over,” demanded Federi in a resigned voice, holding out his hand. She gave him the syringe, and it vanished into his pocket system. He turned away from her again.
“ ‘s pointless,” he said, studying the stiletto. “We’re doomed anyway.”
“Come, Federi.” Paean gave his arm a tug. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
“Did you see them?” he asked with a cynical smile.
She nodded, her heart breaking. She didn’t know how she was supposed to get him back up to the deck without him seeing all of that.
“All that blood,” he muttered. “And what’s the point? Some live, some die… in the end it’s all just people. They only want to make a living and find a small spot in the sun. They eat and drink and piss just like the rest of us. In the end we all die. You should go, little songbird. They need you on the Solar Wind.”
She stared at him speechlessly. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be him, right now. How could she shine him a light onto the path to the future? Was there a future for him?
Federi avoided her eyes. “Little firebird, don’t look at me like that! Go! You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
“Forget it!” said Paean heatedly. “I’m not going back to the Solar Wind without you! Would be a bleak place! Please come now. Or they’ll think we’ve deserted,” she added. “Do you want that rumour spreading?”
“I could think of worse ones,” smiled Federi. Paean peered at him critically. Still he didn’t make any moves to get up.
“Fine,” she said and sat down on the floor, leaning against the crate he was sitting on. Two could play that game. “That’s okay. We can stay here if it makes you happier. And I know. I won’t dig.”
Suddenly the gypsy got angry. “And some people should have their jolly heads read. Calling Federi a mutineer! Ha! With bells on! True, I’m a piece of dirt, but not a deserter! – Hoy, and your brother’s in for a tough time!”
“What – Shawney?”
“No. Ronan. He dares to date the Princess. Ha! Good luck! Poor Ronan!”
Paean was secretly pleased. Anger was a wonderful antidote for a suicidal mood. She made a mental note to brew some St John’s Wort for Federi and – er – she supposed, tie him up and force it down his throat.
“Maybe you just need to talk to Captain,” she said soothingly. “He’s not worth losing your life over!”
“What?” Federi laughed bitterly. “He’s not the reason! Cor, Paean,” he added with another acrid laugh.
It had only been a little rile. A feeble attempt at misplaced humour. Aw, Federi! She sighed shakily. This was bad. Really bad. He’d done this… sacrificed his own soul, for her and Sherman, and Ailyss’ little brother. For the whole Solar Wind, she realized. He’d rescued the ship from the Rebellion fleet. And it wasn’t the first time. He’d done the same back at Hiva Oa. He didn’t have a choice either time. If he’d left any of them alive, they would have come back and killed her and Sherman, and the little boy while Federi was putting others under with her green bug. It had been them or the Rebels. It was a war. And it was more than his loaded psyche could hold. She dashed angrily at something wet that was sneaking down her cheek.
It was like this. The Solar Wind only tried to stay alive; they didn’t ask to be hunted and shot at and knocked over the head. But while Captain shot neat torpedoes at enemy ships from a distance, Federi got up close and watched how his enemies died under his knife, and saw how they were only human, too. Captain got the hero craft; Federi, the dirty work. She’d be suicidal too, anna bottle of cyanide!
“Are you justifying my misdeeds to yourself?” asked Federi softly, with a smile.
She swallowed.
“Well, it’s true,” she snapped, annoyed about the tearfulness of her voice. “You had to! It was us or them! Survival!”
“That’s what they all say,” he said, his despondent voice nearly a whisper.
Well, the heck was she going to let him see her cry! Her whistle could do the crying for her. Maybe it could untie the knot in her gentle friend’s heart, too. Music was the vision of a better life, a better future. She subconsciously leaned back against him, searching for her pennywhistle in the depth of her pockets.
Federi
picked up a handful of her soft red curls that were whirling out from under her turquoise scarf. Hair, not blood.
“Sweet,” he said. The stiletto flashed, and a small lock stayed behind in his hand. “Paean, you lost this. Can I have it?”
She flew around. “What?! You cut off my hair! What did you do that for?”
“Black magic,” said Federi with a dark grin. Interesting! His knife was content now. “Thanks, my little luv.” He slipped the stiletto back into its sheath in his sleeve. Paean heaved a sigh of relief.
29 - Ailyss
Radomir Lascek watched the tearful reunion of Ailyss and her brother, from the bridge. Jon Marsden next to him was staring at the scene too.
“Jon,” said Lascek gravely, “what do we do with her?”
Jon Marsden didn’t respond. Lascek knew that his First Mate didn’t have an answer either.
The Law of the Pacific – Pirate Law – dealt swiftly with traitors. He didn’t have to like it. Nevertheless from a practical angle too, there wasn’t much else they could really do without risking the lives of everyone on the Solar Wind. Realistically, she had to die. Regardless of all high hopes he’d had for her. It was better than waiting for her to attempt murder on his crew once more.
But the little boy’s voice haunted Radomir Lascek. “Ailyss, they can’t, can they? You won’t let them kill you, right? Please?”
If he executed her, how was he different from the Rebellion? He would be applying exactly the kind of bigotry he despised in them! But leaving her alive – was that even an option? What would she do next to endanger his crew?
“There’s only one logical option,” said Marsden, his voice sounding far-away. “And you won’t like it, Captain.”
“That is?” asked Radomir Lascek.
“Execute them both,” said Marsden.
Lascek peered at his First Mate. Surely the man was joking? But Marsden’s face was as impassive as though he were one of Federi’s woodcarvings.