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The Kelonio met up with the Rose a day later, both the boats now tracking the attackers’ boat. Cait and Billy transferred to the Kelonio to plan with Galle how they would precede.
Galle had assembled a good collection of his crew on the bridge, including many of his performers. They gathered around the captain’s station, their mob easily fitting into the expansive compartment. And it was loud, louder than the Rose’s bridge ever got. But then again, Cait had never tried to cram fifty people on to the Rose’s bridge. Celine, his wife, had joined as well. She was never one to socialize with family, but then again, neither was Cait. Cait stood by Celine, arms folded over her chest, focused on nothing in particular.
Galle cleared his throat, and the group of performers and crew fell silent. “It looks as if we’ll catch up to the attackers in less than a day. I would like all of you who choose to board the ship to be prepared.” Galle flicked his eyes over everyone in the room, and then continued. “Yes, we are after a map, and yes, we would like to get that map back, but more importantly, we are after the people that killed Nina. We can do without the map if we must, but taking the Travelers alive is important.”
Cait handed out copies of the Travelers’ papers. The crew took a moment survey pictures.
“Suppose,” a cast member said, “we are unable to take them alive.”
“We do what we can,” Galle said. “Alive would be preferred, but if you must…”
Cait cleared her throat. Galle closed his eyes. “As Molyneux,” he said, forcing each word, “we would prefer to seek justice over revenge.”
Mostly satisfied, Cait nodded.
“How will we attack the boat?” Another cast member asked. He, like many of the others, spoke with a heavy accent, perhaps from the meadowlands state of Préterre, in the 21 Kingdoms.
“I suppose we’ll ram it,” Galle shifted his gaze to Billy. “Mister McGuire may be able to speak better about this subject than I.”
Billy nodded and stood up a little straighter. “We know nothing about the boat, so right now we’re assuming it’s larger than us. Right now, our plan is to fall behind, as if we’re just riding their wake to the next port, and then, when they are forced to surface to recharge, we strike. I’ve sent out a few requests on the Relay looking into the registration number we have, but I haven’t heard back from anyone yet. From there, we board.”
Billy turned to Galle. “One matter I have not discussed yet is who are our volunteers?”
A number of the crew and cast stepped forward, from simple hands, down to the jugglers and clowns. Billy folded his arms over his chest and looked over the volunteers.
“How many of you have firearms or hand weapon training?”
Only a few raised their hands. Billy gave a disappointed sound from the back of his throat. “I’d like the few who do have weapons training to meet with me when they are done. Those who do not, I’m not sure if we can use you.”
“Excuse me,” one of the cast members said. He stepped forward. He was small, lithe, as most of the other performers were, rabbit, covered with well-kept brown fur. He focused on Billy with cool composure, someone quite used to being out in the open. Like many of the others, he too carried a thick accent. “I do not think you have given us a proper chance to show you what we can do.”
Billy looked to Galle.
“Yes,” Galle said. “This is Paul-Henri, one of our jugglers.”
“And what can a juggler offer me?” Billy asked. Cait raised an eyebrow at him; you are coming off elitist. Billy narrowed his eyes; this is valid, and besides, what do you know about not being elitist?
Paul-Henri pulled three knives from his belt. He demonstrated his act, or a simplified version, juggling the knives with precision. He then caught them one at a time.
Billy started to speak, but Paul-Henri stopped him. “Where were you born, Monsieur McGuire?”
“Eight Seas Island, in what had been Beiland.”
Paul-Henri indicated a map on the wall of the bridge, a nautical map of the world. The cast and crew spread out a little, and when Paul-Henri had enough room, without hesitation, he threw the knife. It stuck, point first, perfectly straight, its tip right on the tiny dot of Eight Seas Island.
“You will find that we all have such talents,” Paul-Henri said. “The streets of Ste. Simone were not so friendly, you see.”
Many of the other performers nodded, mumbling their agreement.
Billy stared at the knife, sticking out of the map. “Okay,” he said.
“Nina was our soeur,” another cast member said. “We are invested in this as much as you.”
Galle nodded from behind his podium. “That’s quite touching. Thank you. Yes, I imagine you all can be helpful. But for now, we are very close. Let’s retire until we are ready for the attack.”
The crew left the bridge, Billy speaking to those who had been trained in combat. Celine and Cait stayed where they were while Galle collected his notes. They had not spoken at the funeral, not that Cait could blame her. Her failure of Galle’s trust was also a failure of Celine’s. Finally, after a tense, silent moment, Celine turned to Cait.
“Captain, would you care to join Galle and I for dinner?” She gave Cait a warm smile.
Cait’s ears relaxed. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. “Though I must ask, as always, Celine, that you call me Cait. We are family.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. She was tall, a strikingly beautiful human, and, Cait knew from their hours of conversation, that she was fiercely intelligent. Cait would have expected no lesser a choice from Galle. Celine started towards their suite when the Kelonio’s communications officer stopped them.
“There’s a message from the Rose, sir,” he said. Cait nodded, and followed him to the Relay terminal.
“This is Cait,” she said,
“Sir.” It was Toby.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Tre thinks we need to get under as soon as possible. He says there’s a hurricane ahead.”
Cait looked to the communications officer, who pointed at his weather radar. The hurricane loomed huge on the map. “Yes, of course. I will be here on the Kelonio with Billy. If worse comes to worse, we can carry out the attack, while you stay behind.”
There was a pause. “Tre looks mad,” Toby said.
“I can imagine. Is there anything else, Tobias?”
There was another pause, but Cait could hear why. She heard it on their end first, and then on the bridge of the Kelonio. “He’s pointing to something. They’re a bunch of these little dots, and they’re blinking- what?”
Cait cut in. “Emergency beacons,” Cait said. “It appears the hurricane is leaving the area. Tell Tre that you three are to assist at once, as best you can. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” And Tobias was off the Relay.
Cait turned to find Galle, and nearly ran into him as he stepped on to the bridge.
“The hurricane has made landfall,” Cait said levelly. “I have ordered the Rose to assist with triage and rescue. I suggest the Kelonio does the same.”
Galle looked over Cait’s head at the view outside the Kelonio’s tiny portal, his jaw set firm. “Not when we are this close.”
“Galle, I understand-”
“I’m sure you do,” he said, still watching over her head. “But Nina’s murders are under a day away.”
“Revenge, Galle, will not fix what has happened.”
Galle broke his gaze and dropped his eyes to Cait. He suddenly softened. “That is a question we can talk about over dinner.” He turned, putting his arm around Cait’s shoulders. “Come on, Celine’s waiting.”
—-
Cait found herself on a couch. She sat up, pushing away a blanket that had been laid over her. After a moment of collecting her bearings, she recognized Galle’s suite from when they had last been on board. She couldn’t tell how long she had been out.
Celine came into the room, her clothes different than before. It was just as Cait had feared: she had slept though the night.
“Good morning,” Celine said cheerfully. “It turns out a little wine and a little food is all it takes to knock you out for the evening.”
Cait frowned and scrubbed her face with her hands. “Well, that is embarrassing.”
Celine helped Cait up off the couch. “Luckily,” she said, “there’s no time for that. There’s a message from the Rose, and they say it’s urgent.”
Cait stretched. Celine led Cait up to the bridge, across the expanse of the Kelonio. A fresh communications officer waited for Cait, saluting when she stepped on to the bridge. Cait rolled her eyes; he must have been a recent hire. He handed the radio to Cait, and she clicked on the receiver. “This is Cait.”
“They took him.” It was Xiphos, her voice panicked, breathless.
“What?”
“They took Toby.”
[g]
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AUGH NO
Things are getting way interesting way fast now. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m anxiously awaiting next monday’s installment.
Also, Galle’s wife is human. I imagine that would earn him some family strife from the Molyneux clan.
So was Nina half and half? I’m sure there’s a nicer way to put that, but I’m not sure what it is.
Yes, I think you’re pretty dead on about Galle’s wife, Celine, being human, but not as much as you’d think. I know this isn’t out in the open, because there’s a lot of history with the Molyneux family, but Gimble’s husband, Berlin, was also human. But that was also 500 years ago. They, I think, would more detest her for being from Préterre, and for being, albeit fancy, circus folk.
As for Nina, I always imagined Molyneux had some pretty dominant genes. So even if she were half-human, her red panda side shows out.