Denver was sat in Oak's cabin at the table, pen in hand and a pile of notes he'd written arrayed in front of him. Oak was asleep on the bed and had been for the last hour, but Denver couldn't sleep, he needed to plan. He looked through his varying lists, arranged in chronological order.
Perusing the first he went through his initial knowledge of Rancor with his presence in the city. When Denver had arrived, his five guards were dead and Rancor was stood amidst the bodies. How had he managed to overpower them, they were twice his weight, with fighting experience that few could beat one on one? The answer eluded Denver. Rancor must possess some kind of weapon upon him that could kill instantly, not only one but many at once. If it killed only one at a time, Rancor would not be alive, as the others would have taken him down. Rancor had few belongings though. In fact he'd arrived with no food or water upon him and the only possession Denver had noticed was the screen that he surreptitiously viewed.
Sliding his fingers through his thick, black hair Denver went to the next sheet. Rancor had directed them to the forest, purposeful with his directions. He had chosen a route that was longer than necessary but Denver had already figured out why. He had wanted the Woodlanders to follow. He wanted to capture members of the Woodlander clan. Rancor was thrilled that he had Oak. He knew Oak was of great significance to the Woodlander people, although Oak said little to give himself away, his actions did it for him. Why were members of the Woodlander people necessary on this journey?
Were the Aviatilians a part of what was going on? He doubted it. Captain Rumello followed Rancor's instructions but he didn't want to, he had to. He guessed that the Aviatilians would be joining them in their introduction to the Lavats. They were a people he’d never heard of before. The only ones missing from this motley collection were the Lakellers. Why were they exempt?
His imposing face, strained and tired continued to look over the papers before him. If he could gain some idea as to what was going on, he could plan on how to come through this alive. He needed a battle plan but not knowing who he was to battle and on what battlefield it would take place, made planning impossible. He watched his written words blur before his eyes and realized he should accept that he needed to sleep.
Looking around the room, he looked for a spot to settle that would give him some degree of comfort. The only thing available for any sleep or relaxation was the floor. If he slept in the chair he would be stiff and his neck would hurt, at least on the carpet he could spread out and enjoy a chance to stretch his body.
Going to the chest of drawers he pulled out a blanket and spread it out onto the floor, then grabbing another one and sliding the drawer shut, he lay his huge body down next to the bed. He would wake if Oak had problems and also, any unwelcome guests would have to step over him before they could get to Oak. He wondered why he was protecting the rigid Woodlander leader. He was set in his ways and not easily swayed, perhaps that was what he admired, his determination to keep to his beliefs.
Kicking off his shoes (his coat having been taken off long ago in the lounge) he gave himself up to sleep, still wearing his jeans and shirt. He could feel the jeans stick to his legs when he moved and was aware of his body scent upon his shirt. It would be nice to wash, having a change of clothes would make him happier too but he knew that wasn't going to happen. There was a bathroom adjoining the cabin and he planned to use it in the morning to get rid of everything that was stuck to him. As he started to doze into sleep he wished Rancor could be washed away that easily.
**********
When Oak awoke he quickly sat up and found himself scrambling for breath. His throat was swollen and his air intake was still painful. He looked toward the desk to see Denver sat with a cup in his hand and an empty plate in front of him, he smiled at Oak, and his eyes were full of activity.
“Good morning Oak.”
Oak merely nodded back still unable to force words through his battered throat, his rasping breaths were the only sound he could make. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and bent over, placing his head in his hands. He soon found Denver beside him with another cup in his hand, filled with black coffee. Oak looked at it in dismay and shook his head. He could hardly force the black noxious fluid down when they were camped for the night; he certainly couldn't with a throat on fire. Denver nodded in understanding and went back to the table where he grabbed a glass and poured water from a pitcher. Taking the glass to him he looked down at him in concern.
“Should I find you a physician?”
Oak nodded to the negative and Denver after giving him the glass of water resumed his seat at the table.
“I've been going over all the events since my first unpleasant introduction to Rancor.”
He turned, his expression more animated than normal.
“I had chronologically written everything that had happened. However, this morning when I awoke I realized that I shouldn’t only have written what had happened but what I had felt during all of these times and I think I’ve found something interesting that will help us.”
Oak's raised his eyebrows in interest and Denver proceeded. “I have to admit that I find Rancor's thoughts so revolting that I read his thoughts at...how can I put this? A distance, therefore I never get the full image and understanding.”
Oak's interest peaked all the more and he gave an encouraging nod of agreement, hoping Denver would understand.
“I know you do the same thing. I believe that Rancor does this on purpose. He knows I can read his thoughts and twists them to cause confusion.”
He saw Oak nod again and ventured on. “Rancor is not that clever though. He knows I can read emotions because Detroit has told him but I don't think he has the ability to know how to distract me from what he is going to do.” He paused for a moment checking for Oak's response, to see if he wanted to add anything but Oak signalled with his hand for him to go on.
“We know he uses a screen and with this screen he communicates with his leader. From Detroit’s thoughts I’ve learned his name is Kisin. He receives his instructions from Kisin upon that screen and how to deal with situations. I was at a loss as to how he killed the five city guards but now I think that through the screen he was able to redirect something from Kisin to them and destroy them all.” He dropped his eyes for a moment and Oak felt a rush of worry.
“If Kisin can commit murder through a screen, just how formidable will he be in person?” His dark blue eyes clouded with doom and Oak stared back equally taken aback by his assumption.
“It is all hypothetical but there’s something I didn't tell you Oak.”
Oak was wary now, he disliked secrets, especially ones that could be helpful.
“You've always wondered how Rancor could make me leave the city with a group of nineteen.” Oak didn't need to nod as Denver continued, “Rancor told us that his leader could destroy the whole city we live in. At first I merely scoffed at him but when he swung his hand to the dead bodies at his feet I took more notice. We (Washington and I) discussed the possibilities, and concluded that taking the risk of everyone’s lives was not worth it, as opposed to twenty of us and so we packed up and left with Rancor as our leader.”
Staring at each other, neither knew what their recourse would be.
“Another thing Oak, Kisin gathers all of us. Citans, Woodlanders and Aviatilians, we all have different skills and ways of life; I can only assume that he requires all of our abilities.”
Draining the last of his coffee Denver gave a small sad smile.
“I'm sorry that through all of my hours of research I haven't been able to come up with anything more helpful or positive.” He briefly popped up his eyebrows. “We all travel to Kisin. Where he is I don't know, nor does Captain Rumello. Rancor instructs in small pieces, so we can’t have all of the puzzle pieces and come to a conclusion.”
Denver turned toward the window and stared at the brightening atmosphere outside.
“I sense this will be a long journey and during that time I plan on gaining Captain Rumello's trust. Let's all sit together when Rancor is engaged elsewhere and try to plan. Perhaps Captain Rumello can shed more light upon our situation, perhaps not, but with all of us in league together we triple our chances of surviving whatever fate awaits us.”
Denver didn't turn his head; his mind was elsewhere as Oak could tell from the free emotions he was releasing to Oak's vision. He saw a city with people walking through its streets, some carrying babies, laughing as they raised their faces to the sun's touch. Oak stared out of the window and filled his own head with visions of Woodlanders. He let Denver see his clan walking past long buildings where boys worked, weaving furniture from the stems of plants, helped by girls with babies sat on their hips. Looking back to Denver he saw an appreciative smile and he smiled back. The tearing down of walls had begun.
**********
Fern heard the Captain return and opened the door to him but he didn't switch on any lights. He made his way through the room without a word to her and quietly closed his door behind him. She stood for a while half expecting him to come back out again but he didn't. Reaching down she locked the door once more.
Returning to the sofa she curled up into a foetal position, her head thrumming with the familiar song that had helped her sleep earlier. She quickly returned to sleep once more.
When she awoke the sky was already brightening. Scolding herself for sleeping so late she looked to the Captain's door, he was moving around in his room so she quickly jumped up to find her clothes.
Her quick ascent caused her to fall back onto the sofa and grab her head. What was wrong with her, had someone pummelled her in the night? Fern was not the only one to suffer the first time effects of alcohol. Down below a fragile Elm was also moving gingerly around in the doctor’s quarters wondering the exact same thing.
When Fern finally arose with only a relatively slight amount of discomfort compared to her sensations from her first brisk movement, she found her clothes and slipped into the bathroom. Her mouth felt like it had lichen growing on it and she stuck out her tongue to take a look in the mirror. She was correct for there was a white fuzzy compound upon it.
Turning on the tap she placed her mouth under the running water and rubbed her tongue with her fingers to get rid of the offending substance. She splashed the water vigorously into her face and mouth in an impulsive gesture to dissipate the horrible feeling that both her head and mouth now held. Whilst the water ran over her tongue, she found that she was very thirsty and proceeded to take a long drink from it, slurping hastily without care.
She was startled by the door opening and the Captain's appearance. “Don't drink water from the tap Fern. It is lake water and not good to drink. Hopefully, it won't make you sick. I'll have fresh water sent to you.”
His face was drawn, his eyes dark. Fern stood with water dripping down her chin and onto her nightgown. His eyes wandered down momentarily and he turned and left the room. She looked back at the mirror and gasped at the sight of herself. In her exuberance to be rid of the scum on her tongue and refresh her face, she had flung water everywhere, including the front of her flimsy nightgown.
Flushing bright red and suddenly afraid of her slatternly behaviour, she noted that she would have to be more careful in her actions. The Captain had only paid brief attention to her and she hadn't seen the rise of heat within him that had occurred during their evening together on the deck. Thankfully for Fern, the Captain's thoughts were elsewhere.
She dressed quickly and stepped out into the room as the Captain was about to leave. He eyed her curiously; seeming to turn over some thought in his mind and then let it go and gave her a smile.
“I see you have returned to your native clothing. That is fine for today; I will find you some everyday clothing to wear.”
Looking her up and down once more his expression changed back to one of authority.
“I'll have a selection of food sent to you for breakfast. I'll breakfast with my officers. Cook will visit you personally to talk about what foods you prefer and what you would like to eat for lunch.” He paused for a moment his face changing slightly as he dropped his tone. “I demand Fern, that you do not leave this cabin until after twelve noon.” He looked up at the clock. “Do you understand?”
Fern stared back in surprise.
“I can tell time,” she retorted, “but why am I to be restricted?”
The Captain continued to smile complacently.
“We are refurbishing the deck, as Lieutenant Sherbrook told you. The crew have a lot of work to perform and use many tools which will be laid out and could cause danger to yourself and the girls. I have therefore asked that none of the girls frequent the deck during that time. After twelve noon the deck will once more be safe to venture out onto and the crew will be working elsewhere.”
Fern nodded at the plausible explanation remembering it as part of the dinner conversation the night before.
“I understand Captain and I'll stay away until then.”
The Captain gave a brief nod and left the room, but after the closing of the door she was sure he halted for a moment before quickly striding away.
**********
Elm was only just starting to feel like himself again. He had drunk what to his stomach felt like a lake full of water. It protruded uncomfortably and sloshed as he walked across the deck. The sun was bright and he hunched his head and shoulder's to escape her exuberant laugh at his expense. No wonder Oak banned alcohol from the clan, how could anyone function after drinking it? He found a quiet spot and squatted down onto his haunches placing his muffled head into his hands. He was sat in the shadows of a mast when he noticed someone in front of him.
He knew immediately it was Pine, his presence was overbearing even without looking up. He raised his head, covering his eyes with his hand but couldn't make out Pine's face because of the sun behind him.
“You know of the rules that the Captain has imposed on us I presume Elm?”
Elm felt this patronizing sentence was hardly worth answering since Pine already knew he was aware of the enforcement, but he didn't want to start an argument when his mind was so un-obliging in its abilities.
“Yes, I've been told.” He dropped his gaze to the floor once more and placed his head back into his hands.
“Are you having problems Elm?”
This time Elm didn't look up.
“I'll be fine momentarily.”
He heard a small snort from Pine, then an intake of breath after which he sensed him leave. Pine's words once more brought about a curiosity as to why they couldn't be on the deck after twelve noon? They'd paid for their passage why shouldn't they be allowed freedom? Elm's instincts told him there was more going on than the Captain had said.
We perform drills in the afternoon to prepare ourselves for any mishap that might take place on board the ship.
It was an unsatisfactory explanation and Elm planned to find out the real reason for not being allowed on the deck of the ship after noon.