The clock chimed noon and Fern jumped to her feet from the sofa she had been sat upon. She’d been ready to pull her hair out in handfuls because the time had gone so slowly. Congratulating herself on actually obeying the orders she’d been given she pulled the door open and tore out into the corridor almost knocking over Ensign Jones.
He quickly moved out of the way as she stumbled to a halt. His smile was wide and kind, she knew she returned it without thinking when she saw a slight flush move across his face.
“Ma'am, I was just about to ask what you would like for lunch. There are three choices today as we've been lucky enough to be supplied with fresh produce.”
He looked proudly at her and she realized fresh vegetables were a luxury for the Lakellers. Always travelling the lakes would give little opportunity for growing their own, trading (or perhaps even taking) were there only choices.
What a dilemma for Fern, she was ferociously hungry but she also needed to be out in the fresh air. Her head flew back and forth looking down the corridor and back to the Captain's Quarters. By the time she looked at the boy's face again, she saw he was trying to hide a small smile.
“If you like I could bring a small meal out to you on the deck, perhaps a salad?”
“Yes!” She looked at him and back down the corridor to what she thought of now as the escape door. “A salad would be good.”
Without thinking, in her excitement at having someone do what she wanted, she leaned forward and dropped a kiss upon his cheek. It flushed bright red as his eyes glittered in response.
“Yes ma'am,” he nodded his head to her fleeting body as she ran down the corridor, her goal the door to the deck.
When she burst through the door the sun hit her full on and she staggered, temporarily blinded by her intensity. There was a breeze and the air was delicious to her nostrils. Closing her eyes she breathed deeply, distinguishing different scents, enjoying the natural elements around her. Opening her eyes once more she surveyed the deck, noting the few Lakellers working and the emptiness of the ship. Stepping out as if she’d passed through a portal from another time she was transported to air, water and wind. Like a force of nature she flowed with them as she wandered along the port side.
Wandering to the fore of the ship and leaning against the railing, taking in the encompassing view before her as the ship broke through the water, she absorbed as much of everything natural as she could. The sails were all unfurled and the wind was giving them a good steady clip. Her eyes were watering a little as she gazed to where they were headed, the tightness of the air touching her and grazing her face. She missed Elanclose forest, the sights, sounds, smells, they all meant so much to her and being here now made her realize what she had lost. Although she felt safe for the moment, her comfort at home was so much greater, her belief in herself and her abilities were so much more at the camp. On the Genoa she was a captive and felt lost, vulnerable to the Captain who'd kidnapped her. There was so much she needed to learn about these people, their ways, their un-communicable thoughts, their culture.
Last night, her first night on board, she had stumbled through dinner quite well, but the Captain had had to give her a few throat clearing noises to correct her, which most others had thankfully missed. She found she would prefer physical stress in comparison to this mental stress. Being exhausted from running was far less strain than attempting to be diplomatic and amusing. Her brain was fuzzy from her confusion as to what was expected of her here. Was she to be a toy for the Captain until the amusement was no longer satisfying to him? Then what? Would she disappear like the other girls before her, who had vanished? Would he keep his word and let her keep her innocence for a while longer or would he change his mind and force his will upon her?
She listened to the sound of the ship's movement through the water, as with a slap, it cut through and then diminished. The noise managed to lull her, appeasing her briefly in her dilemma over her role within the Lakellers society. Her Woodlander society was scoffed at by them. Their view of her had originally been that of a savage but she believed that had been dispelled last night. However, would she be able to keep up the façade of being lady when she was more used to living as a cultivating girl of the land?
Once more focusing on the water she realized how big the lake was, something she hadn't known before. They'd travelled all night and only now were they approaching land once more. She'd been looking straight ahead at the water and land but now she looked up to the blue sky that held only a few clouds. In the clear atmosphere she saw the large airship. The sun shone upon her roof and sides creating a silver glow around her, her white underside resembling the clouds she floated amongst.
Oak, she thought, he is on the ship and we're behind it. Could it be that the Captain is following the airship? Perhaps good luck was on her side? Looking back at the billowing square sails, she noticed they were similar to the silver on the white airship, bright, glowing just as the airship was, except they seemed more transparent. Perhaps they were the same material as the airship, she was curious as to why they would be.
Turning around her hair whisked ahead of her and she smiled at the thought that the Captain had allowed her to look the same as when he'd first seen her. She wondered what strange clothes he would make her wear tonight and ran her hand over the stretchy leaves that made up her shirt and pants. The blotches of colour did nothing to camouflage her on this steel ship, maybe she could wear grey and blend in with her surroundings that way. She would love to be a chameleon and disappear to walk amongst the Lakellers without their knowledge.
An “Ahem!” sounded behind her and she smiled knowing it was Ensign Jones. Looking around at him she saw his face flush a little as he offered her lunch, no doubt remembering her thankful kiss.
“One salad ma'am.”
“Fern.” she softly requested and watched him flush a little darker red as he dropped his eyes to the ground and handed her a large bowl of vegetable delights.
The aroma from the salad dressing delighted her nostrils and she smiled even more at Ensign Jones who stumbled backwards a little, as he nodded nervously. She wondered why he’d changed his behaviour toward her and with her free hand touched his arm.
“Thank you Ensign Jones, you are very kind to me.”
Her soft sincere statement lightened his face into a handsome smile as he happily replied. “Anything you need Miss Fern I'm glad to get it for you.” Then embarrassed and blushing he continued, “You're a spirit of virtue on this ship, where deceit plays her cards too often.”
Flushing more at his forthrightness he turned and hastily made his exit with Fern smiling at his quickly retreating back.
“You're a spirit of virtue too Ensign Jones,” she responded loudly to the disappearing figure, feeling glad to have found a friend.
She wondered if Ensign Jones was enamoured with her, then shook her head, he was merely making her feel welcome on a ship on which she didn't belong. Her thoughts went to the Captain, he wanted her and through a gilded tongue he tried to make her believe he was her friend but she knew he wasn't.
Looking for a place to sit and eat, she wandered down the deck until she came to the area that Lieutenant Sherbrook had mentioned was being made into a place for the girls to sit on deck. The reason she was ordered not to be on deck before noon because the crew were working on the project. The tools had been put away and although some wood still sat in a pile, the majority of the work was covered with a large tarp to protect it or perhaps protect the wandering girls from what was underneath.
She was surprised that none of the girls were out for a stroll on deck and couldn't understand how they could be happy to be cooped up below. Still, she was content that the deck was so quiet, she was enjoying the peace and leisurely squatted herself down opposite the tarp where she started to eagerly eat her salad.
It didn't take long for the salad to be finished and taking a quick look around to make sure no-one was watching she stuck her tongue into the bowl and licked all of the delicious dressing from it. Her head sprang up quickly when she heard a muffled laugh. Turning her head from side to side she looked from one end of the deck to the other but she saw no one. There was only one other place for her eyes to rest upon and that was the huge tarp.
Her instincts told her someone was beneath it. Now she had to decide whether it was worth taking a risk for her curiosity or whether she should leave and be safe. She leaned her head slightly to one side as she continued to gaze at the tarp. There were no more noises and she was close to convincing herself that she hadn't heard the laugh but she dispelled the thought. She was not one to imagine anything, her senses were good, they were quick and they were accurate. Someone was under the tarp and her curiosity would not let her walk away, she had to find out who and why.
Quietly placing the bowl onto the floor beside her, she cautiously rose and moved toward the tarp. She needed to place herself in a position where if the person under the tarp tried to grab her and pull her in she would have a chance of getting out of their grasp and running away. She noticed one side was blocked with wood and the tarp was well secured so she ruled that area out, but the other corner was free of objects, and it was not tied down and could give her an escape. Her heartbeat had increased as she concluded what she was going to do and realized the risk she was taking. Who knew who was beneath, perhaps some burly crazy boy? These boys were strong and she would only be able to escape through trickery. The risk excited her and for a few seconds she was almost angry with herself, but it was immediately gone when she thought she heard the soft sound of shuffling.
Carefully approaching and going down on her haunches she grasped the edge of the tarp, then with a quick movement she leaped to her feet pulling the tarp up. She was not expecting the even quicker hands to grasp her waist and pull her in. She was suddenly spun around, a hand placed over her mouth as she was pulled toward a solid chest and both her arms caught within the grasping arm. There was no time for reprimand, no time for telling herself she was foolish. The arms that held her were strong and she knew she must be quick to retaliate whilst the person was still high on the glory of his success.
She stamped with her feet to try and stomp the foot of her attacker but couldn’t find one. So she flung her head back to try and hit a chin or nose but only connected with a firm, unmoving chest. She tried to kick her foot up behind her to hit a thigh or genitals but instead was swept off her feet by her assailant taking out her other foot. Falling forward, already beaten in the game, she realized the extent of the trouble she was in.
*********
Denver had gone over his notes again and again. His conclusions were always the same. Kisin wanted them all, the Citans, Woodlanders, Aviatilians and the following Lakellers. Flint told him of the ship that followed and that knowledge had merely founded his own theory to be correct. They were all on a journey to Kisin; this was what Kisin wanted to happen.
He was curious as to why the Lakellers were following the airship. When the conclusion (which was so very obvious) came to him he laughed out loud and the group in the lounge turned to look at him with querulous eyes. He smiled back and nodded at them, telling them to get on with their business. Saying that he himself had had an enlightening moment, to which they all visibly brightened at the thought that perhaps their leader had a plan to bring them all through this alive.
Looking out of the window at the following ship, her sails billowing in the wind as she ploughed through the water, he realized that their speed and urgency was to catch them up. They themselves, high up in the sky were gradually heading toward the distant land. How would the Lakellers follow them then? There must be a route they could take by water. Kisin had planned all this; he wanted them too, just as much as he wanted the Woodlander defenders that were on board the ship, following so they could save their leader.
Oak was special to these people, they wouldn’t let go of him without a fight. They were too proud, they had their beliefs, their bonds to their own to protect or rescue. He had seen the bond between Oak and Blackthorn. Oak would not give up on Blackthorn even when his wounds were dire and many would have thought terminal. Not Oak, he had fought for the boy’s life all the way, practically carrying him on their journey through the forest. He was tenacious and Denver had no doubt so were the rest of his clan.
His eyes rested once more upon the grey ship that followed them. His talks with Captain Rumello although pleasant and positive hadn’t helped them to plan nor know where they were going. Just as Denver thought, only Rancor held that knowledge and gave it only in bits. Perhaps, even Rancor had no knowledge of how they were to get where they were heading. He knew what their final destination was but Denver believed he didn't know which route they were to take. Kisin gave Rancor only as much knowledge as he needed, again, Kisin held all the control, only he knew how they were to get to him.
Denver had carefully checked out Rancor to find the screen that he used to communicate with Kisin, the screen he kept hidden so well. He had purposefully bumped into him in the hope that he might be able to pick pocket the screen but couldn't find it upon Rancor's person. They needed the screen; it held the answers to help them. It was Kisin's power over them all.
He looked about the lounge. Only a few of his band were there and a few Aviatilians, it was noon and they were sharing a few beers with their lunches. Most of the others were in their rooms trying to catch up on rest and ease their own troubled minds with thoughts of home and the loved ones they'd left behind; the loved ones they were fighting to save from the threats of Kisin and the Lavats. The people of fire he thought. Why fire? Why did they want to be known as such? Was Kisin the name he’d been born with or had he changed his name just as the Citans and Woodlanders had when they’d been reborn to their new life after the Devastation?
He looked at the water below them. The Lakellers were the people of the water; they lived on the lakes on their ship, landing for supplies. The Aviatilians lived in the air, they too landed for supplies but the Avila Rose was their home. The Woodlanders lived in Elanclose, having returned to self-sustainable living and being one with the forest. The Citans were from the city and surrounding land, re-introducing electricity and some of the things that had been lost. They all lived different lives, which meant they all brought skills that were unique to them, and also their own ideas. This was what Kisin wanted for some reason; he needed all of these skills, which meant he would be only using those with the knowledge he was looking for. Everyone else would be dispensable.
He ran his hands through his hair, feeling it’s smoothness from the wash he’d taken pleasure in earlier. It had felt good to get rid of the dirt that was in his hair from sleeping in Elanclose Forest. He’d also enjoyed scrubbing off the sweat and the bitter tang that had been left upon his skin from it. If he could clean his mind of all the troubles and concerns that were bubbling inside him he would feel even better.
Slowly shaking his head to impress upon himself that it was time to change his thoughts, he let his hands fall to the table and looked at them. They were calloused and rough from the work he did in the city. He liked the physical labour even though Washington often suggested he leave it to the others and he should just use his intellect instead, by only writing projects and plans. He preferred to be there at the start of his projects. He had to anyway to make sure things were followed through correctly, but he enjoyed the toil and camaraderie with the boys that he worked with. He knew that they admired him the more for getting his own hands dirty.
After the Devastation, the Citans had cleared the rubble and through years of work they had turned it back into a city with small buildings. Wind turbines had been re-erected for electricity and the land had been tilled to produce fruit and vegetables. Instead of scavenging through the remains of buildings for food from their prior life or eating the mutant vegetation that had grown in abundance, they’d been able to bring back many comforts that they had once had, plus a more free and joyous life.
His thoughts wandered to his home and he realized he'd been lonely, that he'd had more companionship on this journey than ever before. His days in the city were spent training the protectors, planning improvements, toiling physically until he'd trudge back to his house exhausted, and collapse onto his bed only to awake early and continue with the same.
He enjoyed his friendship with Oak, teasing him and talking of the girls he loved. Girls! Oak had two girls in love with him—Willow and Fern. He'd seen them in Oak's mind, both beautiful; Willow, petite, curvy and blond and Fern, lithe, determined with thick red hair. Yet he himself had no one. No, that wasn't true he was sure Boston loved him but he didn't love her.
Why didn’t he have a loving girl at his side? He knew the answer. He and Flint had had relationships with girls but neither committed to be bonded to them. They’d both grown reputations for girls to avoid. Many had sobbed to their friends of their broken hearts. Both he and Flint had been shunned and tutted at, and now neither of them bothered with relationships. Since Flint worked as hard as Denver he knew that the physical exhaustion stopped him from feeling want or need.
The Devastation had left them less fertile and consequently only a few girls had babies from the committed relationships that had been formed by the elders. Out of the three hundred living in the city only ten babies had been born. It was something they tried not to reflect over too much. They concluded that they were young and had many years ahead of them, that things would change and babies would eventually be born to perpetuate their people. Even so, it didn't stop them all from worrying though no one talked of it.
He had no children and he was glad of it. He knew what he wanted and he hadn’t met anyone that could fulfill his ideals. He wanted someone who could make his skin rise into goose bumps or his breath become faster, or the heat travel to the surface of his skin. He thought of Boston, her pale controlled face, her dark tightly swept back hair. If only she could make him feel like that. Not that he’d tried to seduce her, he knew the consequences, and he worked too closely with Boston to see her pout at him every day because he'd abandoned her. No, if she'd incited his energy and desire he would have made her happy and been the boy for her. She didn't excite him though and he wanted more from a relationship than she could give him. He wanted the thrill, the almost overwhelming emotions of love. The feeling that he would sacrifice his life for her, that he would try to be superhuman just for her, be enlivened when he was with her, he wanted all of that not just the friendship.
He was content with hard work and labour during the day, but he didn't want to return home to just a conversation. He wanted ardent, uncontrollable feelings as well, the wanting, the heat, the texture, the smell, the sound of heavy drawn in breaths, the huge releases of air as their pent up desire became more satisfied. Who was this girl he had in mind and where was she in his city? He didn't know.
Still pondering his dilemma he noticed Flint enter the room. He indicated to him that he should come over and sit down with him. His friend looked drawn and pensive and Denver smiled at him knowing that was his way. He vowed that one day he would get this boy laughing, an uproarious laugh that would shock everyone including Flint himself. Yes, one day, he thought, he would make it happen.
“How goes your day Flint?” He watched Flint give a small frown at the question. He was not inclined to make long conversations; a few words were good enough but such a question would always be drawn out, since a simple good never sufficed.
“My morning has gone well. I've eaten a good meal and I slept well last night.” The brown eyes held the blue amused ones and the frown deepened a little more.
“Since your day is going so well will you join me in a beer?”
He watched Flint's lip curl a little and then a conceding nod with the frown. Denver gave a short laugh and got to his feet.
“I’ll fetch them. You stay here and make sure that ship doesn't veer from her path!” He laughed again as another small scowl crossed Flint's face and went to draw two beers from one of the barrels at the side of the room.
Flint wasn’t keen on beer, he found the bubbles too gassy and disliked the bloating sensation they sometimes left him with. Denver had told him to drink it slower but Flint was always in a hurry with his food and drink as if he had too much to do, and Denver knew it was Flint's way of coping with living with a people so unlike himself that his time alone was what he sought. He knew Flint prayed to be with his father and people once more and prayed that he would have an honourable death to favour him well in the after world.
Denver respected Flint; he was loyal, brave and a great addition to the Citan people. His senses were quick, he was agile, strong and a force both physically and mentally that was a challenge to anyone. His group feared fighting Flint, his cool, calm exterior made them uncertain and afraid. He gave the appearance of no appeasing, no forgiveness, no release from your fate, no sympathy. They believed he would kill without regret or remorse; you would be a momentary memory and nothing more. No one dared challenge him in any way, verbal or physical; they all stayed away from him except Denver who was his only friend.
Denver placed the beer before Flint whose frown still sat upon his face as he stared at it and waited for Denver to take his seat opposite. Denver raised his glass.
“To all of us, everyone who’s been commanded or drawn by Kisin may most of us come through this alive.”
The brown eyes darkened slightly and Flint nodded his head in agreement. Flint took a huge draw of the drink to finish half of it to Denver's quarter. Denver stared at the much reduced liquid and smiled at the loud burp that suddenly erupted from Flint as he thumped his chest in annoyance. He eyed the glass in front of him with distaste and Denver laughed even more. Looking upon the face before him Denver suddenly became serious.
“What do you think of this boy Kisin?”
The brown eyes remained quiet for a while until a swirl of knowledge rose within them.
“Once as a boy I questioned our Chief; why, since he was leader, did he meet with others to make final decisions on matters regarding our people. He told me an old saying—you can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time. I believe it was a quote by Abraham Lincoln.
“What our Chief meant is that without the input and approval of others, you are trying to fool people into believing that only what you say is important. Eventually they will stop believing you.
“Kisin believes he can fool us into thinking he can control us all and so far he has, but he cannot keep control over all of us forever.”
Denver solemnly nodded back and dropped his eyes to the drink in front of him.
“Let’s hope Flint that he can hold all of us for only a very brief period of time.”
He sensed Flint nod his head even though he was still staring at the amber fluid before him, watching the misted glass turn into trickles of water on the outside base.
“My hope is that Kisin has missed a loophole that we can get through to destroy his intentions. However, he seems to be cunning and structured with his plan and I'm afraid that we might not have that luck.”
He looked up now at Flint for a reply but only saw a face that was still set with the same taught grimace. He waited patiently and saw a momentary fog appear making his eyes opaque. Suddenly they brightened and the tense face became iron clad with determination.
“Then we shall die fighting for our beliefs.” Flint’s eyes held Denver's as an imaginary battle took place behind them. “We will die knowing we have not given in to corruption.”
Denver looked at the blazing fire as Flint’s soul sped somewhere else, to a land of glory, righteousness and spiritual contentment. There were flames in him as the protector sparked forth and his eyes shone with intensity, iridescent and invincible. The image was brief as the eyes faded from enlightenment and his face once more became the usual stern emotionless visage of Flint. Denver took hold of his glass once more raising it toward him.
“To a glorious death my friend.”
Flint raised his and repeated the same words, immediately downing the rest of the beer. Pushing back his chair he bowed his head slightly to Denver.
“I will go to my cabin to spiritually prepare myself for what lies ahead.”
Denver nodded as Flint turned, leaving him to dwell within himself in meditation, reliving the beliefs he’d grown up with in the silence of his own room.
Still holding his drink on the table he looked at his own half full glass of beer, staring at the wet pool of water beneath it. Lifting the glass again he looked at the circle of trapped water that lay where the glass had been. If trapped water couldn't escape the weight of a glass, how were they to escape Kisin? A boy whose strength didn't lie in the physical but with a mental strength that knew about technology and science, subjects that they only understood from books but hadn't yet fully developed in practice. Their concerns had been with surviving, yet Kisin had been able to go beyond that and become what they had thought was gone forever. Denver had no doubt that Kisin was a scientist that performed experiments and they were all to be a part of Kisin's final test. He had the strength of the Regime and they were to be captives once more within a corrupt system with Kisin at the head of it.
The Woodlanders wouldn’t stand for that, nor would the Citans, but would the Aviatilians and Lakellers? Would they go along with Kisin's requests and allow him to have power over them? To control their lives and everything they did? Would they concede to the Lavats or unite as allies to save themselves?