tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9361400094713273112024-03-14T01:49:49.986-07:00My Art&WritingEmperors are vain and useless thingsMiddy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-49382381138076861922013-01-15T09:51:00.001-08:002013-01-15T17:33:10.477-08:00QR Code Game<br />
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Hey, ALAII class! This drawing I made is your hint as to who I am! (Good luck :) )</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIF_IjOBt-K_valvaqPwPqqZ6R2cdLy34qxk8sSgHWQZ9gt2epCq1Hj2UwPoLB5d5ZB1IUhEwE93oL3gjLZcYIuOzpBc3sFSQbWnsouGsJFusdeKoK_5j0hICCvXRFrf8fs6gFlNvT8AG/s1600/2012-12-14_06-29-06_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIF_IjOBt-K_valvaqPwPqqZ6R2cdLy34qxk8sSgHWQZ9gt2epCq1Hj2UwPoLB5d5ZB1IUhEwE93oL3gjLZcYIuOzpBc3sFSQbWnsouGsJFusdeKoK_5j0hICCvXRFrf8fs6gFlNvT8AG/s320/2012-12-14_06-29-06_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-34252162548549890772012-11-25T16:06:00.000-08:002012-11-25T16:06:02.131-08:00The Final Chapter of Orion.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A/N: So this is it. The very last chapter of Orion. In as few words as I can so you can get on to reading, I’d like to thank everyone who’s read this fanfic. Really, you are the people who have gotten me this far. This is the first time I’ve finished a story this long, and now I don’t know what to do with myself.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, except write another one.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By some miracle, she was still alive.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn unclipped herself from the ratlines and dropped the ten feet to the ground, bending her knees to absorb the impact of hitting the frozen ground.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She kicked the ground, sending up a small shower of frost, and tilted her head back at the <i>Leviathan.</i> It was laying on it’s side so the gondola wouldn’t be crushed, and the balloon of hydrogen that kept the beast in the air was deflated and rippled in the breeze, ratlines laying slack about it. Deryn was on the back side of the ship, opposite the gondola.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was a place she’d been before.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She bit her tongue remembering waking up to Alek’s face, red with cold and confused, asking if she was alright. All too clearly she could imagine when he’d held a gun to her, how he’d almost blown the ship then and there. How over the past half year, they’d saved each other’s lives more times than she could count.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And right now, she needed to know if all that had been for nothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She tore off around the ship, feet pounding on the frozen soil. Her breath came in gasps, steaming as it blew from her nose and mouth. She tugged on her sleeves, pulling them as low over her wrists as they would go for any protection from the cold.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her eyes lit on a Roth Turtle descending from the sky, but it took only a moment for her to see that the man on it was much smaller than Max. She squinted, heart quickening with fear that it could be Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A hiss of relief rushed out from between her teeth when she made out Newkirk, smudging blood off his face with a bare hand and smearing it on his trousers. It left an angry red streak from just above his left eye down to his chin, a still-bleeding slash most prominent among it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Torn between finding Alek and finding out what had happened to Newkirk, she hopped back and forth, and finally took off again, dashing to another turtle across the beach.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Max was standing atop its back, arms rested solidly on his hips as he stared solemnly at the deflated air beast. His face was a mixed expression of dismay and relief, a gruesome bruise swelling into a goose-egg on his forehead. She drew to a skidding halt a few feet in front of him, boots stirring the small rocks that substituted for sand on the beach.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Where is he?” She demanded without hesitation, alarmingly conscious of how she seemed too worried about him for a friend relationship. “Alek, I mean. Is he... is he okay?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Is he alive?</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Biting his lip, Max took his time in answering. With every heartbeat, each faster than the last, Deryn felt her last shreds of hope drop like the ground had been yanked out from underneath her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I think they’ve taken him to see Dr. Busk. There are some men getting whatever they can out of his office to treat the wounded, if you’d like to help.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn nodded mutely, wordless with relief, backing up a few steps before pivoting and taking off again, stomach twisted and fingers numb. Her feet took her around the beast’s head, to the general location of Dr. Busk’s office on the overturned gondola. A small group of crewmen had assembled and were passing things along a line to end in a pile of supplies, rolls of gauze and pain killers spread haphazardly on a hastily laid tarp. Other medicines were among them, and a few sets of tools Deryn couldn’t identify aside from knives or needles.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boffin was surveying the rescued supplies, and behind them the wounded were propped along the wall of the gondola or laid down beside it. The shape made for an excellent windbreak.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Do you need assistance, sir?” she asked Dr. Busk, eyes darting back and forth between the boffin and the line of wounded men.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“In fact, Dylan, an assistant would be wonderful. If you would, please, carry that bag of instruments as I move between patients, and hand me things as I tell you to do so.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn held back a scowl. She’d hoped he would dismiss her so she could find Alek.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, sir.” She heaved up the pack and followed behind him, the dry grass crunching softly under her feet below the clinking of tools and the rustle of gauze.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In less than five minutes, they’d made it to Alek.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She hadn’t recognized him before because he was curled up between two burly riggers, red hair covered with an arm. Her fingers itched to drop the bag and kiss him for being alive, but instead she bit her tongue and rummaged for several rolls of gauze and some antibiotics.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn handed them to Dr. Busk soundlessly, nudging Alek with the toe of her boot.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He moaned and started to roll over, stopping abruptly with a gasp, arm partially lifted from his face. “Ow,” he moaned, squinting up at Deryn. The only color on his face was in the tip of his nose and in his soft green eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She offered him a half smile, fingering another roll in the bag.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Bullet wound,” she said matter-of-factly, eyes holding steady at the bloodstain on Newkirk’s shirt, still pressed over the wound. “Lower left abdomen. Bullet went straight through.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye,” Dr. Busk said shortly. “Hold him, please. I need to flush the wound and check for organ damage. Put your arm across his chest, over the arms. The numbing agent should kick in quickly, but it’s always nice to be sure.” He beckoned for another man to hold his legs.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The doctor changed into a new pair of gloves, snipped away a large patch of Alek’s shirt, and gently began probing the wound.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn couldn’t bring herself to watch.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek’s back arched without warning, and Deryn pushed hard to hold him down. “You’ll be fine, Alek,” she muttered reassuringly, and then added a stern “hold still” when he kept struggling.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His eyes met hers, and with a pale face and clenched teeth, he nodded. He settled down, body taut as a string but still nonetheless. Alek let out a few short, gasping breaths and shut his eyes tightly. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead, and Deryn brushed it away with her sleeve, stained with his blood.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was dried on her hands, flaking off and falling in specks to rest on the pebbled beach. Now rust colored under her fingernails, she quickly hid her hands from his view, hoping he hadn’t seen them.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You can let him go now,” Dr. Busk ordered. Deryn jumped back, fearing she’d shown too much affection toward him. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but that wound is far from fatal, assuming it stays free of infection. I’ve stitched a tear in your large intestine. The thread is made partially of spider webbing, so it will dissolve eventually without having to be removed. Dylan, if you would, administer the pain medication.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, sir,” Deryn said. “Open your mouth, Alek.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He nodded, and she swiftly knelt and placed a small pill under his tongue. “Don’t chew on that,” she ordered. “It goes away on its own.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thank you,” he croaked. “For saving me. Again.” The last word was added almost as and afterthought. Deryn’s eyes burned.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek licked his dry lips, smiled, and his soft green eyes slowly closed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn gaped at Dr. Busk, who was nodding and turning away. “Why’s he lost consciousness again?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I gave him a sedative injection. If he were to move around a lot, he could tear the stitches. It will wear off in roughly an hour.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Swallowing, she nodded and fell in step behind him, moving on to the next patient. She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at Alek, whose dirty red hair was strung every which way about his slack, peaceful face. His chest rose and fell in a blissfully steady rhythm.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A smile found its way onto her lips.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nearly an hour later, she was finally done tending the wounded. She bid a quick farewell to Dr. Busk, took two coats from the nearby supply pile and pushed her arms into one, and broke into a run for where Alek would still be laying.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On her way, she passed the gondola, where a small group of people were wandering around dazedly. Sighing, Deryn slowed to a stop.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dylan!” Melissa called brightly. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She gave the midshipman a quick nod, registering the other people to be Lauren, the Clanker girl--Ronnie, or something like that--, a guard she didn’t recognize, and Thaddeus Welker, the only person of the collection that looked distinctly irritated to be there. He was laying on his back, feet propped dejectedly up on the side of the gondola as he chewed on his lip, twisted into a scowl.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I say we bolt,” he muttered in German.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Welker,” she replied likewise. His eyebrows raised, and he shot a murderous glare up at her. He must not have known she spoke German.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pity for him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You seem to be forgetting, <i>Miss</i> Sharp, that you do not hold all the cards in this game.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“<i>Blisters,</i>” she swore, and shifting the other jacket to the crook of her left arm.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Indeed,” Tad said with a small, sad smile. “If you were to try and stop me, I could simply reveal your little secret--and their’s--to this entire ship.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn’s eyes flicked to Melissa and Lauren, both of whose eyebrows were drawn together.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Or,” Deryn said, taking a step closer, “I could simply knock your lights out. Even if I am a girl, I’m sure you’re aware that it’s something I’m quite capable of.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tad swallowed, and with one look at her raised fists conceded to stay exactly where he was.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Good choice,” she said venomously. “Miles, Levi, please keep him here. Don’t be afraid to give him a solid hit to the face if he tries to go anywhere. Her too,” she added, looking at Rachel.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I do not intend to escape, Mr. Sharp.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Just keep an eye on her, you two.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye,” Lauren agreed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her feet were once again taking her to Alek. As she drew close to him, he was lying still along the ship. Deryn chewed on her lip, wondering if this was what she looked like when Alek had first seen her.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She hoped so. Even out cold and pale enough to fit into the bleak landscape, he took her breath away.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What is his condition, Mr. Sharp?” Dr. Barlow asked, coming up behind her, and Tazza came to nuzzle the back of Deryn’s hand.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“<i>Mr. </i>Sharp,” the loris perched contentedly on her shoulder echoed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She stroked the thylacine’s head, feeling along its cold ears.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“He’ll live.” Deryn looked over her shoulder at the lady boffin, whose fingers were poised delicately on Tazza’s lead.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Good,” she said, shaking her head. “I shall have to have a talk with that boy. He has a terrible habit of this sort of thing.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn’s mouth dropped slightly, but she didn’t say anything.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a moment of silence, curiosity overcame her. “Ma’am, where did the <i>Behemoth </i>come from?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow sighed. “An egg, like all other fabricated beasts.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn glared at the boffin.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Though I suppose that wasn’t what you were asking. You’re aware of the common legend of the Loch Ness monster, I assume? Mr. Churchill believes we can hardly let the <i>Behemoth</i> run rampant about the ocean, and just last month informed us that he would make the legend come true, and Loch Ness would be its dormancy location. A convenient occurrence for us today, I’m sure.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The lady boffin’s eyes travelled along the surface of the loch, searching for a sign of the great creature that had saved them. Deryn followed her line of sight, the light from the setting sun’s reflection burning the image onto the backs of her eyelids.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All was quiet but for the murmur of boots and voices that sounded far away. A bird cawed somewhere along the opposite shore, and the wind rose to answer it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Funny how the perfect moments tend to come on the worst days.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe that’s what made them perfect, though. When everything has gone pear-shaped, it’s the little pieces of good that seem the most important. They say that it’s not all so bad as it seems, and bit by bit, it will get better.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Am I the only one who’s cold?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn didn’t fight the grin that invaded her whole face, and she spun around and knelt next to Alek.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No, <i>Dummkopf</i>. But I brought you a coat. Careful putting it on, though. Don’t want to tear your stitches.” His nose wrinkled, and she carefully lifted his torso, letting him slide one arm into the coat and then the other before laying him back down. Deftly, she buttoned it for him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I trust you are feeling well, Aleksandar, considering,” Dr. Barlow said, not bothering to staunch the quirk of her mouth. Tazza padded slowly over to sniff Alek’s hand. “A crew will be along shortly to carry the wounded to the infirmary once the ship is back in order. Until then, I believe that Mr. Sharp will provide adequate supervision. If you don’t mind, I have duties to attend to.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And with a conspiratorial raising of an eyebrow, she <i>tsp</i>ed for Tazza to follow her and walked slowly away.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A terrible habit!” Dr. Barlow’s loris cackled as they left, nearly falling off her shoulder in a fit of laughter.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With no one in earshot, she could finally say the things she’d wanted to since Max had taken him away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thanks for not dying,” she began uncertainly, not really sure where to begin. So many things were swirling around in her head that it was hard to pick one.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No problem,” he answered, eyes bright.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His cold hand found hers, and she squeezed it briefly before placing it carefully on his chest. Deryn let both their hands rest there for a moment, imagining she could feel the constant beating of his heart through the layers of clothing.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Too bad we aren’t alone,” he mused, grinning wickedly at her.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Only if we did anything too rough, you’d tear your stitches.” She pushed a strand of hair from his forehead, smiling.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Not if it was just kissi--”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He grabbed her wrist, holding it exactly where he could get a good look at it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Is this mine?” he demanded shakily. His eyes were fixed raptly on the red streaks that adorned her hand.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye. Some’s from helping Dr. Busk, but for the most part...”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Alright.” He nodded, and Deryn could see the realization dawn on him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn swallowed and waited for him to speak.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I almost died,” Alek croaked, voice barely a whisper. “Deryn, I... I’m sorry.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She scoffed. “<i>You’re </i>sorry?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek’s eyes searched hers. “Yes. You must have been...”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The backs of her eyes burned. She managed a nod. “So don’t--don’t do that anymore. If you do, I’ll kill you myself.” Deryn looked away to hide her tears.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He reached up and wiped away the tear that had tracked its way down her cheek. His thumb, somewhere between soft and rough, followed around to cup her chin, bringing her to face him. She held his gaze for a long moment, acutely aware of how her skin burned where his fingers were touching it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You know, there isn’t anyone else around for quite a ways. It’s unlikely that they could see us very well.” Alek’s gaze darted to both sides, landing on her with a mischievous glint.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She smiled and leaned down to kiss him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even looking at her hurt.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Newkirk could still smell the blood on his face, and feel it drying on his palm, but the pain of that and any of his other injuries was hardly comparable to what he felt when he saw Rachel.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In her classic pose, legs pulled up to her chest with chin resting lightly on her knees, she was observing all the went on around her with bemused attachment. The constant wind that battered the crew danced in her hair.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe grimaced as he wondered exactly what she would think when she saw him, battle worn and a little shaky.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The captain will be along shortly, and I’m to make sure you’re all in working order,” he said, eyes sweeping over the band of prisoners. With Melissa and Levi still suspected as spies, there were four in all, as well as the guard that had been watching them. He saluted the man, who was gaping openly at Singe.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Are you a message lizard now?” Lauren asked astutely.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“All their attics are still scrambled.” He shrugged. He hadn’t really minded the short walk over here. It had given him a few moments to gather his thoughts.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Shouldn’t you see a doctor about that?” inquired Melissa.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No need. It’s already stopped bleeding,” he lied, shaking his head.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Alright, then. Another question, Mr. Newkirk,” Melissa said, grinning slyly. “Don’t you need to tie our wrists together first? Also, do you happen to know any good prison songs? My repertoire is completely empty,” she continued with a completely straight face.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Giving her a raised eyebrow, Singe replied with a hint of sarcasm, “I seem to have forgotten the twine, so I guess I’ll just have to trust you. And it’s all the better if you don’t sing.” He paused a moment, waiting for a response. When the girl just looked at him bemusedly, he sighed. “Now that that’s settled, were any of you injured?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’re all just fine, Mr. Newkirk,” Lauren said. “Metal cots bolted to the floor are very sturdy, you know. It wasn’t difficult to hold on.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Speak for yourself,” Melissa disagreed, rubbing her knee. “I’ll have a bruise from this, brother.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tad snorted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dry up, Welker,” Rachel snapped at him. She blew a piece of hair from her eyes angrily and glared at him. Singe could tell they’d never been on friendly terms. “What are you laughing about, anyway?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe’s stomach constricted as the boy told her something in German, afraid that he was sharing the girls’ secret as nonchalantly as coffee-shop gossip. Rachel’s mouth dropped open, and she shot what he assumed were curses at him in rapid-fire shouts.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She looked ready to slap him, so Singe took her by the arm and dragged her away. “Calm down,” he ordered.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a moment of silence, he asked incredulously, “What did he say?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’d rather not repeat it,” she said, having abandoned all pretenses that she wasn’t fluent in English as she had led him to believe, “but it was frankly insulting.” Her cheeks were flushed bright red.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I--” Rachel began, then stopped and bit her lip. “I don’t know how to say this, but--”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then don’t,” he replied coldly.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A huddle of officers arrived, all in warm coats and thick gloves. “The prisoners, Captain,” Singe announced, saluting.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Very well, Mr. Newkirk.” Hobbes nodded.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe licked his lips. “Permission to speak, sir?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Granted.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It is my utmost belief that Miles and Levi Wilson are not traitors, sir. In fact--” he was cut short by the captain raising his hand.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“That’s quite enough, Mr. Newkirk. There will be time for appeals later,” he said tiredly. Singe averted his eyes, still standing at attention. Captain Hobbes addressed the captives. “As soon as possible, you will be returned to your cells. I assume that will be within the hour. Misters Wilson, the two of you will have a formal hearing once everything settles.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, sir,” they said in unison, staring at the ground defeatedly.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Captain, if I may,” Thaddeus began, and swept his hand dramatically with a small bow.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Go on,” the captain allowed warily.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boy cleared his throat. “I have information valuable to you regarding these two... fellows.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe’s hand went immediately to his knife, and an instinctive snarl rose in his throat, but Captain Hobbes saw his movement and motioned him down. “Stay where you are, Newkirk.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A moment of tense silence followed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Continue.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Not so fast, Captain. I need something in return.” His eyes were leveled directly into the captain’s, as unflinching as he was serious.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The girls exchanged a nervous glance, and Melissa turned to Singe with despair in her eyes. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What are you terms? And be aware, Mr. Welker, that anything you ask will be discarded if your information proves worthless.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Immediate parole from any sentence I’m given, assuming you’ll try me in court.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The captain regarded they boy, and he stroked his beard, deliberating. “Minimum sentence, no parole. That’s the best you’ll get.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tad drew in a breath and said “Deal” with the barest hint of hesitation.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Now your information.” It wasn’t a question.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Clanker boy supplied a smirk and gestured to the midshipmen a mere five feet away.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He offered simply, “They’re girls.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was three days before they would even allow him out of bed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In that time, a lot of things happened, most of which he had to be informed about by Deryn.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On his first day of bed rest, after the ship had been righted and the animals were being fed--and and as a result the hydrogen replenished--by food brought from the various villages within a ten kilometer radius that could spare supplies. They’d received everything from goat cheese to rye bread, and to Deryn’s distaste, yogurt.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She’d knocked lightly on the door and entered without waiting for his response, her head peaking around the doorframe and lighting on Alek, exactly where he should have been. His torso was wrapped in a layer of gauze so thick that even if he had wanted to move, he couldn’t have.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He let himself smile and said, “Hello, Dylan. Have you brought lunch?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, I have. And you’ll be eating like a... well, I suppose like a prince,” she replied, wincing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She nudged the door the rest of the way open with the toe of her boot, and shuffled in with a tray that held a variety of easily digested foods. Dr. Busk had told him firmly that he wasn’t allowed to have hard substances for at least a week.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“That hardly looks like the meals I used to eat.” He paused, thinking. “It’s much more appetizing.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn chuckled, and then bit her lip as she selected a bowl. “Can you feed yourself, or shall I?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, I suppose I <i>could</i>,” Alek observed with a playful grin. “Pity, though.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, sod off,” Deryn retorted, though the remark was hardly an angry one. She thrust a spoon in the bowl and handed it to him, pulling up the chair from next to the wall and sitting in it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek peered in at the yogurt and asked, “I don’t suppose there’s any coffee to go with this, is there?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her only response was a glare, so Alek shrugged and tucked in, realizing he was too hungry to exchange any more banter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The yogurt was gone quickly, and as he ate, Deryn filled him in on the goings-on of the ship.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dr. Barlow suspects we’ll be back in the air within five days,” she said, “but the captain isn’t giving a solid answer. And I think the lady boffin said that we might not be traveling back to London on the <i>Leviathan</i>. Something about business to take care of on the way home.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He paused between mouthfuls. “Really? Would we travel by train, then?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I assume as much, but you can never be sure with her. Maybe we’ll pick up the count on the way.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek’s eyes widened, and he agreed firmly. “Yes. He and Mr. Barlow will be done at the peace conferences now, won’t they?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow’s husband and Count Volger had been going between Paris and Northern England arranging peace talks and negotiations between the Clanker and Darwinist powers. Ironically enough, the count was becoming an instrumental middle ground who represented both powers, every day bringing the war closer to an end.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye.” Her eyes searched elsewhere in the room while he ate his yogurt.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I spoke with Newkirk today,” Deryn said, changing subjects. “He told me that Melissa and Lauren have left the service. The captain struck a deal with them that they would return to America and keep quiet about being girls in the service in exchange for him letting them off without any formal penalties or reprimands. As far as anyone will know, they just decided that the life of an airman wasn’t for them. They’ll be one of the service’s dark secrets, I suspect. One of those rumors the riggers tell like ghost stories after they’ve snuck a few drinks into the middies.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek drew his eyebrows together. “Have you had this experience?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Unfortunately not. I came in a little late for that.” Deryn sighed wistfully. “We’ll just get lost in history, won’t we, Alek?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He could feel the sadness in her voice as thick as cotton, and placed his hand over hers gently. “Deryn, we will never be lost. It may just seem like any other day to us, but in a hundred years people will look back on this time and know our names. We are part of something, and that will never be forgotten. We’ve helped people, Deryn. All of those people in the Ottoman Empire? They won’t forget the revolution. Their lives have been changed because of us and Lilit and Zaven and all the others. And who knows, some day they may let girls into the Service, and then we can tell the whole world your story.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But he didn’t believe it. “And no matter what else happens, I will never forget you, Deryn Sharp. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn smiled broadly. “If I was good with words like you, I’d tell you something like that.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You could show me,” he suggested.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn raised an eyebrow and shook her head fervently. “Not after you’ve just eaten yogurt. I don’t want to be near that stuff, let alone taste it.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Frowning, Alek heaped his spoon full of yogurt and aimed it at her. “Shall I resort to threats, Miss Sharp?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With a look of defiance, Deryn swiftly took hold of his hand and tipped the spoon back over into the bowl. “Eat your food, daftie,” she chided.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There were a few moments of silence, and Alek studied the girl as he scraped the remnants from the bottom of his bowl. Her hair had grown darker in the last few months, so it was now a dishwater sort of blond as opposed to the bright color it had been when he’d first met her as Dylan. It was due for a trim now, the little bits growing in around her ears and settling at odd angles when they weren’t combed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She sat leaned back in her chair, an arm slung around the top as she waited. When her eyes wandered back around to his, they watched him with the unassuming warmth that always shocked him, especially when he realized that the light they held was just for him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He brought the spoon to his mouth and swallowed slowly. “You want any more?” Deryn asked, gesturing vaguely at the tray. “I think there’s blueberry.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No, that’s fine, <i>Liebe. </i>I’m full.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What was that?” She gave him an odd look.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I said I’m full.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No, before that bit.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh.” Alek took a moment to think before he realized what he’d said. “It’s something my father called my mother. It’s like ‘dear’ or ‘love’. I hadn’t even noticed I said it before you pointed it out.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mmhmm,” Deryn agreed with a smile. “Then I ought to call you honey pie.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Please don’t,” begged Alek, laughing.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Fine,” she conceded. He laid his head back on the mountain of pillows that supported him and wondered at the ceiling. A single message lizard tube came out of one wall and snaked its way along until it was just above the desk, the only ornament in the room. Like in most of the ship, a flowing wallpaper design covered the top half of the wall.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Are you ready to leave it again?” he asked.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No.” She knew exactly what he’d meant, and her voice held a tender sadness. She was staring at the walls, too. “But I have to, don’t I? So I’ll pester Newkirk with letters all the time and make him tell me everything about the ship, and I’ll learn to live on the ground. I’ve got the most important thing there with me, anyway.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What’s that?” he inquired dumbly, looking at her.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Newkirk drummed his fingers on his knees in anticipation, worried out of his mind wondering why the captain would have called him to the bridge.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He glanced nervously at the time clock on his wrist, waiting to be summoned into the room. They would be taking off in less than four hours, and Alek, Deryn, and Dr. Barlow were leaving before then. He needed to say goodbye.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The door opened, and an officer motioned Singe through the door. It shut behind him soundlessly, but he felt the air movement tickle the back of his neck. He stood motionless until the captain addressed him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“At ease, Mr. Newkirk.” Captain Hobbes turned away from the impressive window that made up most of the bridge’s walls. “No doubt you’re wondering why I’ve invited you here. Most midshipmen don’t spend much time in this room.” He rested his hands on the map table.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, sir. I’m curious.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The captain stroked his beard before speaking. “I need to have a few words with you, Mr. Newkirk.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe’s mind ran through the extensive list of things he’d done wrong in just the last weeks, trying to figure out what the captain may have discovered.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A proposition of sorts. I spoke with the Admirality about this over a week ago and received their permission. I’m also fully aware that most officers are well over the age of twenty and that you are a mere sixteen, but you’ve proven yourself more than capable of filling a position on this ship that has been recently vacated, may Mr. Rigby rest in peace.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe took a step back, shaking his head to unscramble the words the captain had just said. Realizing it was hopeless, he just said, “Sir?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Newkirk, tomorrow I will officially appoint you as the <i>Leviathan</i>’s new bosun, but I thought it would be best to inform you of your promotion before the ceremony. Congratulations.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The room spun around him, and it was all he could do to mutter an incredulous thank you and salute when he was dismissed. When he made it to the hallway, Singe leaned heavily against the wall and took several deep breaths. He was halfway between a giddy laugh and an unmanly scream. Not sure which would come out, he kept absolutely silent and let his feet lead him wherever they wanted to go.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still thinking, Singe landed right in front of a thick cell door.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Let me in,” he told the guard posted outside. The man shrugged, recognizing the boy with the scar on his face, and selected one of the keys, twisting it in the lock.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe pulled a small wormlight out of his pocket and shook it, agitating the worms so they glowed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hello, Eugene.” Rachel sat exactly where she always was, legs pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on them. Her hair had been brushed and pulled back with a tie, and she had on a fresh shirt and trousers.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hello, Rachel,” Singe replied. “You look nice.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thank you.” She watched him with narrowed eyes. “Let us not mince words, Mr. Newkirk. Why are you here?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He met her gaze firmly. “You want honesty? I have no idea why I’m here. After everything you put me through, all the lies you let me believe, I shouldn’t want to even look at you. But I can’t stay away. There are too many things I still need to tell you, too many questions I still have to ask.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rachel nodded solemnly. “Then ask them.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Did you ever feel anything?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was the slightest hesitation, but when she spoke she said it with calm certainty. “No. You are an amazing boy, Eugene, but I never loved you.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then why did you lead me on?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She didn’t answer.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why?” he nearly yelled. “If anything, you owe me the truth now. Why did you do this to me? I’ve never felt like this before! It’s eating me from the inside out, and you are the only thing I can think of! Do you know how much it hurts to know that you don’t feel the same way?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You had information and access that I needed. Is that honest enough for you? You don’t want me, Eugene Newkirk. I’m the enemy, for God’s sake! It’s my fault so many people died. All of this was my idea! They should hang me for what I’ve done, but your kind won’t let me off that easy. Instead, I have to work for your Society now, using my knowledge against my own people. That’s worse than any death, and they know it. I’m a traitor now.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A cold fist clenched around Singe’s stomach. “What?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Your captain decided that a fit punishment would be fifteen years of forced service to the Zoological Society that Dr. Barlow and your friends work for,” she said acidly. “I’m going with them this afternoon, probably in cuffs.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He swallowed hard. All thought left his mind except for one completely irrational thing. “Then before you go, I need one thing from you.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her watery eyes reflected the wormlight. “What more could you take from me? I’ve already lost my family and my dignity.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Kiss me. If I never see you again, and even if I know you will never love me, I need to kiss you once in my life.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In one swift motion, she was on her feet, her face inches from his.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It wasn’t how he’d imagined at all. He’d thought that her kiss would be soft like her eyes and bright like her hair, but it was angry as fire and sharp as knives and better than any fantasy could have been. He leaned into her mouth and held his hand at the back of her neck, savoring every bit of her he could have, even if it was all a lie.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She turned her head away, slightly breathless. “Are you happy now?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No. But at least you were honest, and that’s all I asked.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He stepped back from her, taking in everything about her just as he turned away with an ache that coursed through his entire body. “Goodbye, Rachel Steiner.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Goodbye, Eugene Newkirk.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He closed the door behind him without looking back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The three of them stood on the platform, a trio of sadness and hope filled with a future more extensive than their pasts. The sun would have been directly over them if they weren’t in ship’s shadow.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn was the first to break the silence. “It seems we’ve been here before.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, and something tells me we’ll be here again,” Singe said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I have no doubt,” Alek agreed, hunched a bit and leaning on his temporary cane. “So what do you think’s in store for the three of us next?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, I’ll settle into my new position as bosun,” Newkirk said, scanning the beach. “The two of you will continue to work for the Society, and no matter what happens, we’ll keep in touch. Maybe the war will end and we’ll have to adjust to normal lives.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They puzzled over the thought of an average life, and Deryn stated what each of them were thinking: “Sounds right boring to me.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek frowned. “Agreed. I look forward to the future, but Lord knows I didn’t think we’d even make it this far.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’ve gotten our share of bumps and bruises,” Singe mused, reaching up to feel the scab that had formed on his cheek. It would be one of his defining features now, and he would be remembered solely as the man with the scar. No one would know that he’d broken his arm or fallen in love with the enemy, or that he’d known and befriend the only three girls brave enough to join the Air Service. They wouldn’t even know he’d killed Sebastian Fitzroy. That memory was the kind of scar only he could see every night when he fell asleep. As far as anyone outside this circle knew, Fitzroy had fallen off the Roth turtle after Singe knocked the gun out of his hand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’ll see you soon, Mr. Newkirk. Don’t you worry.” Alek held out his hand, and Singe pulled him into a gentle hug. Then he nodded to Deryn and hugged her too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Giving the couple a small wave before he returned to his station, he said, “I’m looking forward to it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A/N: So I’m back. Hello again. At the beginning of the chapter, I mentioned writing another fic. I wasn’t lying. In fact, Orion’s continuation (As of this moment it will be called Medusa) is currently well into the plotting stage. I'll be posting that to my blog when I get around to it whether anyone will read it here or not. Also, I'm writing an original story now. I may or may not put that on here.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m sure you’re all aware that at the end of each of the books Mr. Westerfeld put a little explanation as to what’s fact and what’s fiction. Well, I can tell you now that in Orion, not a lot of it is based on real events.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The facts are these: I created the characters Melissa and Lauren Wilson, based off of myself and a girl that likes to get on the Westerblog and join the comment strains. I also created Rachel Steiner, who, like most of my original characters, is based on a real person (She, too, used to get on the Westerblog. But I have no idea where she is now.) She would have been another midship-woman in disguise, except that the real Rachel told me she was a Clanker, which now I’m very thankful for. Max is the only completely original guy, and he actually came up with the Roth Aerial Battle Turtles (Thank you, M@X, to use your username). The character Thaddeus Welker does not exist in real life by any means. I have adapted Newkirk and Fitzroy from their original characters to make them more... deep.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While some of the plotting ideas and elements are my own, I owe a large (VERY large) part of the story line to my little brother, who I lovingly call the Ninja-Magician-Plotter, for obvious reasons. He gave it most of the broad details that made the story compelling, and the little things that made it what it is were mine.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fiction: I did not create any characters that were in the trilogy (obviously). Loch Ness exists, as does the legend about the Loch Ness Monster. My brother and I conveniently adapted that for our own purposes. And Loch Ness DOES go all the way out to the ocean. Google Earth told me so :). No Axis (read: Clanker) powers, to my knowledge, every really hid in the Kjolen mountains and plotted revenge.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You know, that’s all I can think of right now. But if you want to know more, I’m happy to share everything that went in to any character and event in the book. All you have to do is ask. So many things are thought about in the writing process that don’t even get mentioned in the actual store, and I’d be thrilled to tell you about it.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This concludes the longest authors note. Ever.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thank you.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-4326350768598954132012-10-14T21:10:00.002-07:002012-10-14T21:10:31.909-07:00Chapter 32... the VERY long awaited.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A/N: So, guys, it really has been a long time, I’m aware. And I’m also aware that you’re all probably really fed up with me for having taken so long. I apologize, really. I sincerely hope that this chapter eases some of your anger.</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve noticed lately that my Newkirk/Singe chapters seem to be longer than Deryn or Alek’s, and I like to think that’s because I’ve been able to add more layers to him than I could the other two well-defined characters. That still in no way makes him mine, a fact that I’ve come to terms with. *goes to cry in a corner* But back to the point, this is, in fact, a six-ish page chapter, which averages at me writing about a page a week... err. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for me to say that. Now you may all be raising your eyebrow and saying how it should be easy to write that much more quickly. Well, to you I say</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ENJOY. </span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(^Really long A/N. Sorry.)</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b></b></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(At this point, I’ve been asked by a few readers to provide a short summary of what’s happened most recently in the story and is pertinent to this chapter just in case y’all forgot and don’t want to reread the whole last chapter, and since I’m acknowledging that I’ve taken ridiculously long to update, I will oblige. The rundown: Rachel told the captain and Singe that there are Orion Alphas on the ship, and they were set to destroy it at about, oh, NOW, so Singe ran to go figure out a way to stop it. Deryn and Alek were making out when the Klaxon went off, so they went topside to figure out what was going on, and in the meantime Max and Fitzroy were battling it out over some ROBTs [Roth Aerial Battle Turtles]. Alek goes to help Max, and in trying to be heroic gets himself SHOT. No big deal. In the next chapter, Deryn slaps him and sends him with Max to the ground on a ROBT half-conscious, and makes Singe go after Fitzroy, who’s escaping on a turtle. She also tries to figure out how to get the Orion, which are message lizard automatons, off the ship, at which point they start shooting sparks/flames into tiny holes in the membrane. Tada!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now on to the good stuff.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He wasn’t getting any closer.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No matter how low he crouched over the turtle’s back or pleaded silently with the motivator engine or urged the turtle along, the distance between himself and Fitzroy refused to lessen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Come on, come <i>on,</i>” he muttered, rubbing the turtle’s neck the way Max had told him to and trying not to look down. He glanced quickly at the engine, checking yet again to make sure it was on high.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe dared to glance down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ground tripped along below him sluggishly, wind whipping through the dense pine trees. It was even stronger up here, pushing almost at his back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The <i>wind.</i> His head shot up, and he crawled to the back of the turtle, where the engine sat nestled near its tail.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With a small, quick adjustment to a lever on the engine, Singe changed his direction so he was traveling with the wind, at a slightly diagonal course to Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe let himself smile as he drew level with Sebastian, who was kneeling just behind the turtle’s head. The boy’s eyes had gone wide, but now the corners of his mouth were pulled into a scowl. A space of twenty-five feet stretched between them laterally now.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It’s a pity I haven’t shot you already,” Sebastian called over the wind, reaching for the the air pistol in his waistband and evaluating it with a mournful glare, “Because at this distance this pathetic weapon wouldn’t even pierce your skin, and I don’t waste bullets on bruises.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“How unfortunate,” Singe replied dully, while at the same time trying to steady his furiously shaking hands. In truth, he was relieved that the boy wasn’t about to shoot him on the spot, but knew that getting close enough to stop him would mean putting himself in range of much more than a bruise.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He swallowed hard.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why hadn’t he thought to bring a weapon of his own? The small mounted gun in the center of the turtle’s back was not loaded--he’d already checked--and by assumption, neither was Fitzroy’s. He hadn’t even given is a second glance.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still by the steering lever, he pushed it slowly--very slowly, so that maybe Fitzroy wouldn’t notice too quickly--away from himself. Ever so slightly, his turtle began inching toward the other.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The wind bit into his back through only his flight suit; Singe’s shirt was wadded up as a bandage to stop the blood running out of Alek’s body. It sent up a chill up his spine and reminded him coldly that this was not a time for caution--or stupidity.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m surprised you’ve come after me,” Sebastian said, not looking at him. “I thought you’d be back on the ship trying to save your <i>girlfriend.</i> Rachel, I think it was, wasn’t it?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hearing her name felt like a kick to his chest. It knocked the breath out of him, and he nearly doubled over. He didn’t say anything.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“She wasn’t very nice. Every time I tried to talk to her, she pretended not to know any English. Now, on the other hand, I know that she speaks our language quite well.” Singe was finally close enough to hear everything Sebastian said without the wind tearing some of it away.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boy watched him closely, searching for any reaction.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“When did you talk to her?” Singe asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the moment of silence that followed, he stole a look at the ship behind him. It was descending as a quickly as an airship could, so slow that it was like the world was in slow motion. There was smoke rising from a few points on the membrane, but he was too far away to see any fire. He could hear the men’s shouts and cries, though.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As he turned back to Fitzroy, he checked his maths that it would take more than three minutes for the entire ship to light. The hydrogen within the beast’s body needed oxygen to catch flame, and the Orion could only make small holes for the air to get into. Deryn still had time. It wasn’t very much, but it had to be enough.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“When we were in the mountains, of course,” Fitzroy said blankly. “Where did you think I was after I was relieved of duty on the <i>Leviathan</i>?” When Singe didn’t respond, he continued. “I figure you may as well know, considering that when you come a few feet closer, I’ll kill you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Suddenly his mouth felt dry, and his hand jerked back on the lever automatically so he wouldn’t go any further. Fifteen feet had to be close enough.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But close enough for what?</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You were in the Kjolen with the Clankers?” Singe stared, though he wasn’t really surprised. It figured that Fitzroy should be a traitor.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes, you daft fool. You really are thick, aren’t you? All I ever wanted was to work on that stupid ship like a good little middy, and until your friend Dylan came aboard, I could have had that and slowly made my way up to a higher position--even captain, someday. Maybe I still will, if he decides to let the airfleet continue to exist.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“But <i>you. </i>You were never supposed to get out alive. Do you know how long we searched for you? You are one slippery little boy, Newkirk. And you know too much.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He raised his gun and fired within the space of a second. It made a pop, and the bullet whizzed harmlessly past his head, stirring the air by his ear no more than the wind. Fitzroy barely gave him time to react before he shot again, and this time it tore through the fabric of his shirt-sleeve, stinging his skin. He didn’t look, but he could feel the blood well up from it.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe hissed, getting to his feet. The wind hit him a little harder, and he balanced low the turtle’s back. Fitzroy took more care in aiming now, watching Singe with predatory green eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Somehow, over the roar of the wind, Singe heard the click of a bullet sliding into the chamber. In a moment of absolute clarity, he launched himself at the Fitzroy, intending to knock the boy off balance and possibly off the edge. The muscles in his legs protested at the effort he put into the jump, desperate to make it the full seven feet.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But he’d failed to account for the beast sinking back under the force of his push. From the moment he was extended in the air, he knew he wouldn’t make it. The jump had been a stretch in the first place, but now it was near impossible. So instead he reached as far as he could to maybe just reach Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If he fell to his death, he wanted to bring this traitor with him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A shot rang out, but it passed nowhere near Singe. Even if it had, he wouldn’t have felt it. He was too shocked to care about anything other than the fact that his fingers had managed to hook onto the belt holding the harness to the turtle’s back.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The beast listed dangerously to one side. The vibrations of Sebastian losing his footing shook into Singe’s fingers, cold even through his gloves, and he swung his other hand up for a better grip. It scraped once against the turtle’s shell before he caught hold, swinging himself around to face the way he’d come.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To Singe’s disappointment, Fitzroy regained balance. As he advanced slowly up the belt, hand over hand, the double-crosser’s head appeared over the side, red with barely contained rage. The upside-down barrel of his air pistol materialized beside him, so Singe used his own momentum to kick Sebastian’s wrist.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boy cried out in fury as the gun tumbled to the ground looming below them, glinting as it fell and reminding Singe of just how precariously he was poised over his own doom. Just thinking about it tore a strangled laugh from his throat.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sixteen was too young to be contemplating your own death.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy retreated topside, and with detached urgency, like it wasn’t he hanging from a giant turtle’s belly a hundred feet above the ground but someone he barely knew, he stretched an arm around the top of the turtle, looking for a hold to pull himself up, and suddenly felt a crushing pain in his gloved fingers, pinning his hand between the shell and Fitzroy’s boot.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He swore extravagantly. Of all the pain he’d felt in his life, there was nothing quite like the feeling of pressure on cold extremities. It may not have been the worst, but certainly memorable.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“If you let go now, I’ll spare you the pain of having your fingers cut off. I hear it’s a painful experience,” the traitor reasoned, twisting his boot around on Singe’s hand. He could just imagine the sadistic grin on Fitzroy’s face as Singe cried out.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Okay,” he said, voice strained. “Okay, I’ll let go. Just--ah!” His fingers crunched, though Singe still hoped none were broken.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Don’t <i>lie</i> to me!”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The pain brought tears to his eyes, and they stung freezing on his face. He ignored it, searching with his own boot along the turtle’s belly for some sort of foothold. Then he grit his teeth and jumped his hand toward the other side of the beast, clambering to get his sore fingers around the belt again. For an excruciating moment he’d been hanging by only a foot and the hand pinned under Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He bit his tongue and forced his hand to relax. Sebastian’s boot dug in a little more, and he repressed the urge to clench his fingers again. “Please let me go,” he called up, all the while worming his hand farther to the other side. The muscles in his leg and arm burned with the extended ache of holding himself up.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A moment of indecision on Fitzroy’s part gave him the chance. The force on his hand lessened just enough that he could pull it out, feeling the bottom of Fitzroy’s shoe tear at his skin as it pulled his glove off. The cold air stung his bare hand.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Using his momentum, Singe brought his leg up around the turtle’s belly, and with frantic speed clambered onto the creature’s back. Fitzroy whipped around to see him on hands and knees, gritted teeth surrounded by a malicious smile and rigging knife already drawn.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Let me get this straight,” Singe said, not taking his eyes off of Fitzroy as he leaned back on his haunches. “You’re a Clanker now.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No,” Fitzroy snapped, fingering his own rigging knife. “Despite what you may believe, I am still loyal to Darwinist principles.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“But you <i>are</i> working with them, so that means...” he trailed off as a light turned on in his head, illuminating all the pieces of the puzzle as they slid into place.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he’d first been in those mountains, and after the bombs had gone off, he’d seen crates with the seal of the old sultan of the Ottoman Empire on them. He hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but something Alek had said to him the day they’d had shore leave in Unst had been tickling the back of his mind. The shopkeeper who’d made his clothes had told him that the locals believed that the sultan was hiding in the nearby mountains.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It had seemed impossible at the time, considering how far away it was from Istanbul, but no one really knew where he’d gone. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You’ve been working for the Sultan. He really <i>is</i> trying to get revenge on Churchill and all of Great Britain!” He pointed a single, numb finger accusingly at Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy’s lip twisted into something between a sneer and a grin. “Bravo. It only took you--what?--a month? And you’ve only managed to let your beloved bosun, a few middies, and countless airmen die in the meantime. That’s quite the accomplishment.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe bit down a retort and instead catapulted himself at Fitzroy.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boy braced for the impact, and Singe hit a hard wall. He jumped back instantly, parrying a swipe from Sebastian’s knife. His face, already red with cold, turned even more so in anger.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy thrust his blade at Singe’s stomach, and he sidestepped and grabbed Fitzroy’s arm, twisting it. The traitor yelped and punched at Singe’s jaw with his free hand. He lurched back, and Fitzroy’s knuckles only grazed his cheek.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A gust of wind rose up, throwing Singe off balance. He staggered back, pulling Sebastian with him and giving the boy a few crucial inches. He was nearing the edge and the oblivion below it. His foot caught on the boot Fitzroy had stuck out, dropping him to the turtle’s shell hard. Fitzroy quickly pounced onto Singe, straddling his torso and effectively pinning his arms down, pushing an elbow against his throat.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He couldn’t mistake the glint of triumph in Fitzroy’s eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe thrashed, but knew it was no good, and with each kick Fitzroy’s elbow pressed a little harder. He could feel the empty space below his head, his hair tickling in the breeze. When his vision went starry, he stopped struggling.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Are you going to kill me now,” he choked, voice barely a whisper as he fought for breath, “or watch me die when I hit the ground?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I don’t know yet, <i>Newkirk,</i>” Fitzroy growled, running his tongue along his teeth, “but until I decide, I think I’ll make you suffer.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The knife in his free hand came down, the blade pressing against the skin on Singe’s face, right over the scar he’d gained from a flechette bat nearly two months ago, just hard enough to break the skin. He squeezed his eyes closed and strained away.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A line of blood trickled down the side of his face, and the frigid high-altitude air froze it to his skin. As he clenched his fists at his sides, Singe remembered one very important thing:</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy hadn’t taken away his knife.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He forced himself to stay absolutely still even as Sebastian’s blade trailed along his scar and opened his eyes wide, staring directly into his attacker’s eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That stalled him a moment. The pain in his face stopped, and Sebastian had just opened his mouth to speak when Singe used his limited arm leverage to drive his rigging knife into the back of Fitzroy’s thigh. He didn’t know how far it penetrated, but it startled Fitzroy enough that Singe could take the chance to push the lad off of himself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He threw Fitzroy sideways, and he crashed into the motivator engine. It sputtered and went silent, now crooked in its place. His knife sailed harmlessly off the side of the turtle, falling silently. Blood was beginning to stain Fitzroy’s flight suit.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The wind whistled in Singe’s ears--or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his body and out the wounds in his skin. He licked his lips, dry as sandpaper, and held up his rigging knife once more.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The setting sun reflected red on his blade.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He swallowed roughly, breathing hard. His windpipe burned, blood continued to trickle down his cheek, and the fight had reignited the pain in his arm from it having been broken in the past.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All in all, he was tired of fighting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was too much death and fighting and blood and pain in the world to ever be rid of it, because it was everywhere and it always would be. But that didn’t mean he had to take part in any of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe sighed heavily and stepped away from Fitzroy’s crumpled body. He knew better than to let his guard down, so he kept his knife in his sleeve, readily accessible. “Get up,” he called hoarsely.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy’s head turned to face him, but he didn’t stand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Get up,” he repeated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why? Are you to <i>honorable</i> to kill a man on the ground?” His eyes were so filled with hate, it was hard to meet his gaze.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“In reality, you’re on the back of a turtle.” The joke felt foreign on his tongue, something that belonged anywhere but here. “But that isn’t why. Get up.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He gestured at the boy lying on the ground, jaw quivering. Suddenly, his eyes welled with tears, but he didn’t let them come.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What <i>possible</i> reason could you have for making me stand?” he demanded, voice unsteady as the color drained from his face. He was losing blood fast.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe whistled shortly, calling his original Battle Turtle back to him. It had been floating lazily about seventy-five yards behind them. The cilia on its legs worked furiously to bring it towards them, and the turtle’s trunk like legs swung back and forth like it were walking.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But he wasn’t looking at that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Without his bidding his eyes had fixed on the <i>Leviathan</i>, flames blossoming on the beast’s membrane. The captain, after having listened to Ronnie tell them about the Orion Alphas, must have commanded the engine pods to bring the ship down as fast as possible, and the hydrogen vented out the back of the ship, toward the bottom, because licks of flame trailed behind but didn’t seem threatening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The beast’s nose was headed straight for the loch. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was then that the strangest thing happened. The searchlights on the gondola popped on, great beams of light that would penetrate deep into the water. They flashed in seemingly random patterns, and at first Singe wondered if it were an accident.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He could hear the alarmed shouts from crewmen, see the smoke rising from the ship, licked by flame.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The water directly below the ship began to stir, bubbles roiling more furiously beneath the surface with each passing second. From the water rose a massive spine adorning a plated back the size of the <i>Leviathan </i>itself. Tentacles sprung out around the beast, dripping dark water, followed by a pair of beady eyes and a gaping maw large enough to swallow a navy ship.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The <i>Behemoth.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A hand wrapped around his ankle and tugged him to his knees, jarring his hands as he fell on the hard shell. The knife slid from his sleeve and he caught it easily, hilt upside down in his palm, and he pivoted sharply around to face the boy who just wouldn’t give up. He made an upward slash at Fitzroy, catching him on the bridge of his nose just enough to leave a thin red line.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He wasted no time with another blow, driving Fitzroy farther back. The traitor scuttled away, realizing how poor his decision had been and favoring his left leg extremely. Singe sprung to his feet, wiping away cold sweat from his brow as he advanced on Sebastian.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boy’s palm slid in a splash of his own blood, and he crashed down violently. He spat a few choice curses at Singe, pain written on his face as a drop of blood spilled into his eye.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eugene Newkirk didn’t allow himself to breathe or even to think.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He pushed Fitzroy off the side of the turtle.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He killed him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe couldn’t bring himself to watch the boy no older than himself fall to his death, but he still heard his terrified cry as it faded into nothing, and a rustling of his impact on the pines below.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A hiss rose from behind him, and he turned shakily to see the <i>Leviathan</i> in a cloud of steam and the <i>Behemoth</i> squirting it with water. The dark, hazy smoke that had risen from the air beast turned into the bright white of evaporating water, and with the added weight the ship drifted the distance to shore and landed on the beach, sliding in far enough that only the rudders on its tail dipped into the water.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He could not see a single fire.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe hopped onto the other turtle and angled it toward the downed but alive air beast. The other Roth Aerial Battle Turtle would follow in its own, slow time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His hands, one bare and bloody knuckled and the other gloved and clutching a stained rigging knife, trembled on the steering lever, and as he looked out over the forest at the deep red of the setting sun, he allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek.</span></span></div>
Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-19343336119264577172012-09-08T07:10:00.001-07:002012-09-08T07:12:23.706-07:00Chapter 31 at last!<br />
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><i>A/N: Well, it certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it? Anyway, I certainly hope you enjoy this chapter, and that some sense of urgency is conveyed like I want it to be. Um... you finally get an explanation of what </i>exactly<i> the Orion Alphas are, which I know you’ve wanted for the last few chapters. So here it is!</i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The moment his lids dropped, Deryn smacked him across the face. Hard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Eyes popping wide open, Alek moaned, “I quite like it better when you kiss me.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Deryn tried not to grimace at the smear of blood on his cheek now, left behind by her fingers after pressing them on his wound. It was low on the left side of his chest, and from the way it was bleeding, the bullet may have gone straight through. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Aye, well, there <i>are</i> people around. And that was overdue anyway. Barking spiders, Alek, <i>stay awake!</i>”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He’d faded out again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Yes, I think I will.” He spoke in German now, probably not even noticing how he’d switched languages. “I don’t want you slapping me again.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Dylan?” Newkirk’s voice came from behind her, and she raised a single arm in acknowledgement. “<i>Alek?</i>”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The pound of his footsteps approached quickly, and then he was leaning around her to get a closer look at Alek. “Fitzroy shot him, and <i>not</i> with an air pistol, either.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“It was, actually,” Alek said, chuckling for no reason, and then he broke into a fit of coughs. “An air pistol, that is,” he continued.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Deryn stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to look past the cloudiness of pain that covered the usual sharp greenness. She had to focus on something else. If she thought about the boy she loved laying there in front of her, possibly <i>dying</i>, then it would all go pear-shaped. For the next few minutes, he had to be just another person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Newkirk, give me your shirt,” she demanded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Why?” He’d paled at the sight of blood, and was looking a squick shaky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“So I can try to stop the bleeding, you ninny, and I can’t barking well use my own. Now <i>give it to me.</i>”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Newkirk nodded hurriedly, unzipping his flight suit and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt before pulling it over his head. He turned away as Deryn tore it in two and gently eased one half under Alek and wadded up the second, applying pressure over the entrance wound, much to the injured boy’s protest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Is that you? That <i>hurts</i>, if you hadn’t noticed. I’d be much obliged if didn’t do that, Deryn.” Deryn bit her lip. The boy got sodding proper when he was half conscious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Newkirk, I need you to go after Fitzroy,” Deryn commanded. “He took one of the turtles.” She took a quick look over her shoulder in the direction he’d gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He was barely one hundred yards away, and she could still see the scowl on his face. Even though it felt like an eternity, it’d only been a few sets of moments. “<i>Now.</i> You need to go <i>now.</i>”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I need to tell you something first!” he said breathlessly. “Those message lizards going crazy--they’re not real! The Clankers got them on the ships, and they have a timer, and when the timer goes off they all make holes in the membrane and set the ship on fire. They’re called Orion Alphas--The <i>Claw, </i>the <i>Spear,</i> none of those German ships have anything to do with it; they’re just decoys! Omegas! So now--you have to get everyone off the ship before it burns.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Hysteria rose in her throat like bile. It was all Deryn could do to nod her understanding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The great <i>Leviathan</i> was about to go down in flames. She would meet her end just like her da.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She fought to keep down a cry of despair as Newkirk deftly loosened another of the turtles, leaping on as it began to float away. He cranked the motivator engine as fast as it would go, crouching low on its back to lessen the air resistance. Still, he’d be hard pressed to gain on Fitzroy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Tearing her gaze from Newkirk’s retreating back, carefully avoiding looking at Alek, Deryn took in her surroundings, blinking the tears from her eyes so she could see clearly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stood, shaking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Twelve feet away, a message lizard writhed in pain. She took a cautious step toward it, peering closely to see why. There was no apparent cause, and it wasn’t making any holes in the membrane. Deryn blinked again, and a tear slid out. None of it made <i>sense.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Trying to steady her breathing, Deryn wiped her palms on her pants and rubbed them together, regretting not having a flight suit. Alek must be freezing, the heat seeping out with his blood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Don’t think about it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Her hand shot out, and she caught the lizard in her grasp. It squirmed, and she took it in her other hand to hold it still. Shouting random squicks of conversation, it scratched at her hands, leaving tiny pricks of pain she barely noticed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Deryn grimaced and plunged a finger in it’s mouth. Its tiny teeth sunk into her skin, and she jerked it out, wiping a saliva coated finger on her shirtfront. This was definitely a real beastie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But then what was wrong with it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She let it fall to the ground, shaking her head. A groan came from behind her, too deep to be Alek. Deryn turned to find Max rousing, staring groggily and rubbing his temple. He grimaced and stood, blinking rapidly. “Where’d that bum rag go?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“That’s not your problem anymore, Max,” Deryn said. “Everyone has to get off the ship.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">His eyebrows drew together. “How? We’re almost a mile above nowhere,” the rigger protested, looking around at the seemingly endless expanse of cold forest beneath them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“It’s not barking nowhere! Once we get over Loch Ness, there’s a village somewhere in the area, but that won’t matter if we’re all dead,” she said frankly. “Understand? Crew. Off ship. Now.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Aye, Mr. Sharp. I’ll take them down on the Roth Turtles--where have those other two gone, exactly?” Deryn jerked her head toward the floating beasts, almost three hundred yards away, and he continued, “Right. These ones’ll be fine, then.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“And...” she took a deep, steadying breath. “Take Alek with you. He’s been shot. ”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It hurt to say it. She let her eyes travel to where he lay, pale and shivering. All of her being itched to go with him, to make sure he survived, but she knew she couldn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Aye. Put him on one and it’ll go down first.” With one last rub of his temple, Max started shouting for all the crewmen to come to him. Deryn hardly paid attention to the few who refused on the grounds that a man should go down with his ship as he explained the situation. She was more focused on how to get Alek from the membrane to the back of a turtle five feet away as painlessly--and quickly--as possible. There wasn’t much time. There couldn’t be. They’d already wasted an eternity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Blisters, Alek, would you stop trying to be the hero? I’d rather have you hiding in a corner than with a bullet in your side!” She squatted, hooking an arm under his shoulder and knees. She felt his blood soaking into her shirt sleeve, and the puddle he left behind was larger that she’d expected. The metallic-tasting air caught in her throat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He didn’t respond except for a moan when she lifted him, and as she shuffled toward the back of a turtle, he seemed to grow paler. Alek’s eyes darted under his eyelids, and he mumbled incomprehensibly for a moment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“<i>Wake up,</i>” she told him fiercely, letting her bitten fingernails dig the skin of his palm. His eyes drug open, and he stared at her with a cloudy gaze.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“I love you, Alek,” she whispered, and the backs of her eyes burned with tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Deryn tried not to let her eyes linger on his face, twisted with pain. She squeezed his hand quickly, one last time, and then turned away without a backward glance and took off down the spine, shouting for the men to throw any message lizard that was scratching the membrane off the side. She scooped one up from near her feet and pried its mouth open with her finger, not pausing in her step.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A quick glance revealed the most intricate automaton Deryn had ever seen. The Sultan’s elephants were awe worthy, but they barely compared to the complexities within the small creature’s mouth. Gears smaller than her fingernail whirred almost soundlessly, joints and hinges mimicking the exact movements of a living beastie. Coupled with the lifelike hide, it was completely believable. The Orion could have lived among their living counterparts forever if they weren’t hardwired to destroy the ship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Deryn shuddered and hurled the machine as far away from the ship as she could. As it disappeared into a speck against the green and blue of loch and forest below, a memory of Fitzroy doing the same thing flickered into her mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The unanswered question that had been running circles in her mind resurfaced.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Why?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As Deryn shook her head, the <i>Leviathan</i> shifted beneath her. Slowly, its angle changed, until they were flying directly at the great Loch Ness, looming at least a thousand yards away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped a moment to stare at it, and suddenly her throat closed in a sob. The tears that had threatened her for the last two minutes spilled from her eyes, and she choked on them. As the scene blurred, she swiped the wetness from her eyes. There wasn’t <i>time</i> for tears now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And Deryn was a soldier. Soldiers didn’t cry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hooked her boots into the ratlines and descended, looking for more Orion. If she was going to die today--if Alek was going to die today--she was going to go down fighting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Her resolve only hardened when they started shooting sparks into the body of the hydrogen ship.</span></div>
Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-65576429582411418652012-08-05T07:58:00.004-07:002012-08-05T07:58:46.184-07:00Chapter 30!<i><b>A/N: Hello, all. I would be more excited about posting this, except that I posted it about a week ago on fanfiction.net... oops. And I have GI flu, which would put a damper on any excitement. But that's not the point. It's still a new chapter!</b></i><em><strong>This first part here may be a little… mature for some of you. A few others, though, have been requesting some Dalek moments (And I AM a fangirl myself) so this happened. I have conveniently placed a (***) where it's safe to start if you prefer to pass over said fangirl-Dalek moment. But, really, it's not THAT bad. Just some intense kissing. But whatever.</strong></em><em><strong>Enjoy</strong></em><br />
<em><strong><br /></strong></em>Kissing Deryn was certainly one of his favorite pastimes.<br /><br />
Admittedly, he hadn't always thought of kissing as something that would be enjoyable—in fact, he'd once thought of the whole idea as faintly repulsive.<br /><br />
This, on the other hand, was quite preferable. She moved with him, her lips pressed on his with an urgent pressure. His arm was healed well enough now that he didn't have to worry about pain as he let his hands wander around her waist, feeling the slim curve of her back as she arched to fit so perfectly against his body.<br /><br />
His knuckles scraped against the wall, her skin hot against his even through the fabric of her shirt. She didn't have that barrier, though, as Alek's shirt was already unbuttoned. Her fingers traced patterns over his bare stomach roughly, making him moan into her mouth, and he felt her smile.<br /><br />
He took hold of her arms and put them over his shoulder so he could press closer to her. Now the only thing that separated them was her shirt, and with the sudden urge to rid them of even that, he reached for the buttons.<br /><br />
No. He couldn't. God's wounds, but he wanted to. So Alek said the only thing he could think of to make<br />
himself stop.<br />
(***)<br />
"Count Volger would so disapprove of this."<br /><br />
Deryn stopped cold. She pushed him off of her, resentfulness painted on her face. "<em>Why </em>would you say that?" she asked bitterly, her breath coming in ragged gasps.<br /><br />
He studied her before answering, taking in her flushed lips and cheeks, disheveled blond hair, and bright, wide blue eyes, all the while cursing himself as a <em>Dummkopf.</em> All that came out was a grunt.<br /><br />
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, straightening it out somewhat. "That's barking brilliant. Now I can't even look at you without thinking of the count," she growled, fixing her shirt and trousers.<br /><br />
Laughing sourly, Alek mumbled, "That was the point," under his breath.<br /><br />
Deryn's jaw dropped open. "<em>Why?</em>"<br /><br />
Alek just shrugged, lost for words. He wasn't entirely sure why himself, really.<br /><br />
"Oh, that's right," she said, shaking her head, "You're still a sodding proper Clanker, aren't you?" As Alek wondered if he should take offense to that, Deryn continued. "But that's not your fault, I suppose. S—"<br /><br />
She was cut off by the sound of the Klaxon calling the crew to battle stations.<br /><br />
"Blisters," Deryn swore softly, looking around the room while Alek hurriedly buttoned his shirt, "You think they'd want us at the bridge with the lady boffin?"<br /><br />
Now that Deryn was no longer a midshipman, she no longer had a battle station, so Alek just shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea, Deryn. Though we could sneak topside and see what's going on…" he raised a challenging eyebrow at her, and a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.<br /><br />
"I must be getting through to you," she said, already clipping a safety harness she'd snagged from a supply closet on and climbing out the window to the ratlines, "Aleksander Hohenberg wants to go topside to get a<br />
firsthand piece of the action? Never thought I'd see the day!"<br /><br />
She chuckled madly, which reminded him oddly of Bovril, who'd been napping on Alek's cot. It blinked at him a few times, imitating the sounds that came from all sides of the ship, and he slung it over his shoulder, figuring the beastie could come in handy soon.<br /><br />
He shook his head, slipping on the other harness, and swung out onto the ratlines. Indeed, she must be getting to him if he was willing to do this. God's wounds, he was even <em>excited. </em>The blood pounded into his muscles, making him feel ready for anything. It only helped that Deryn was there next to him, climbing with the ease and confidence of any airman. Together, they could do anything.<br /><br />
When they reached the top of the ship, a strange scene was laid out before them. Most of the airmen seemed fine, if a little confused, but their hydrogen sniffers were agitated, pawing at their ears or itching them along the membrane like there were some terrible noise that hurt them. The few message lizards that littered the spine were writhing on the ground, squawking or crying gibberish.<br /><br />
Nearly two hundred meters ahead of them at the head of the <em>Leviathan</em>, the turtles Alek had seen in the cargo bay—Roth Aerial Battle Turtles, if he remembered right—were waiting patiently in a line as some sort of struggle played out in front of their noses. He broke into a run toward the scuffle, Deryn on his heels.<br /><br />
Max and someone else were exchanging blows, and from what Alek could tell, Max had taken some nasty hits to the face, several spots purpling as he fought.<br /><br />
The rigger's eyes lit on the pair running toward them, grateful for some assistance, and in his momentary lapse of concentration his opponent knocked him on the forehead with the hilt of a rigging knife. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground just as Alek came within fifty meters.<br /><br />
The attacker kicked the unconscious man out of his way and swiftly began unfastening the ties that held one of the battle turtles to the ground. Alek put on a burst of speed, his feet sinking slightly into the membrane with each stride. Twenty meters now. "Stop!" he called, and the figure jolted away from his work and stood, facing Alek and revealing his identity.<br /><br />
Sebastian Fitzroy.<br /><br />
The boy smirked as his hand snaked into the pocket on his jacket, whipping out to reveal a glistening air pistol pointed straight at Alek.<br /><br />
Deryn drew to a halt just behind him, and drew in a sharp breath when she saw the gun.<br /><br />
"Fitzroy." The word came out of his mouth like an accusation.<br /><br />
"Hello, Aleksandar. Dylan." He nodded his head politely, taking a step back.<br /><br />
Deryn came level with Alek. "What are you doing, Fitzroy?"<br /><br />
He laughed, cruel and ironic. "Why, being the hero, of course." Another step.<br /><br />
"What do you mean?" she demanded, reaching slowly for her rigging knife. Alek stood frozen as he stared down the barrel of the gun.<br /><br />
He took one last step, placing a foot on the back of a turtle. It sunk just slightly under his weight, but not enough to matter. Fitzroy was going to get away and-<br /><br />
And what?<br /><br />
Alek's boots hit the membrane softly as he took several steps toward Sebastian. The boy's eyes widened and he leveled the pistol at Alek's chest. "Don't move."<br /><br />
"How will you 'be the hero', as you say?" Alek tried to sound like he wasn't scared silly by the firearm.<br /><br />
"Sorry, boys, but I can't stay and chat," he said, looking over their shoulders at something behind them. He met Alek's eyes coldly for a moment, and then let loose the last of the ropes that anchored the turtle to the airship. Without thinking, Alek leapt forward to catch hold of the ascending beast.<br /><br />
The pain exploded in his torso almost before he'd registered the sound of the shot.<br /><br />
Staggering back, Alek tripped on a ratline and tumbled backward. Deryn caught him before he hit the ground. She let him down gently once it became clear he couldn't hold himself up. His vision was already becoming hazy with the pain, and a moan escaped from him.<br /><br />
He could barely make out Deryn, leaning over him, and thought he felt extra pressure on his wound-but he couldn't really tell. His senses were being overloaded from the pain.<br /><br />
"Stupid barking Clanker!" she was yelling. "Alek! Don't you dare pass out on me!"<br /><br />
Despite himself, Alek smiled tiredly. "Relax," he choked out, "It isn't anything that hasn't happened before."<br /><br />
He laughed noiselessly at his own wit and terribly ironic luck as his vision darkened.Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-21931737149083672112012-07-21T10:32:00.001-07:002012-07-21T10:32:26.887-07:00Chapter 29! *Cue dramatic music*<br />
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<i><b>A/N: So, yeah. It's been a really, really long time since I updated. Sorry about that. I didn't forget about you! I promise! I've just been busy, and I really didn't have much inspiration… until now. Oh, yes, I have had inspiration. So much inspiration that it lasted seven whole pages in a Word document! I guess the length is my apology to you all for having seemed to ignore you. Sorry!</b></i></div>
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<i><b>P.S.: I think this is a totally epic chapter, by the way. You should read it now.</b></i></div>
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The sun was setting as they arrived back at the ship, stretching out shadows and turning everything orange.</div>
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Singe nodded at the airman on duty as they walked up the cargo bay ramp, briefly feeling sorry for the man who'd been denied even the squick of shore leave the others had been given. But then he remembered that he'd certainly have some next time the ship was stopped anywhere.</div>
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He waved a quick goodbye to Alek and Deryn as they headed in opposite directions—the others to their cabin and Singe to the kitchens to beg for a space in cold storage for his yogurt.</div>
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The kitchens weren't anything fancy, just a modest space tucked at the bottom of the gondola crammed with giant, gleaming pots and fabricated cupboards lining the walls over countertops spanning the length of the place. He'd never quite understood the stoves—open flames were strictly prohibited on any airship—and didn't necessarily care to. Most likely some boffin had gotten happy with life threads, and the less Singe had to think about one of the beasts heating up his meals the better. So he steered clear of the closed off room they were in and instead made straight for the cooks' quarters.</div>
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He knocked politely on the hollow wooden door, and in less than a moment it opened to reveal one of the three cooks, a short, wiry man without a hair on his head to speak of. Singe could see his reflection in the shine of his head very well as the man barely came to the tip of his nose in height, and tried not to stare.</div>
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Singe cleared his throat and saluted smartly, not really knowing if what he was asking would be </div>
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precedent or not.</div>
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The silence stretched out while Singe waited for the man to speak. He blinked a few times, then said, without preamble, "Well, what do you want, boy?"</div>
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"Middy Newkirk, Sir, requesting permission for cold storage, Sir!" He waited for a reply, trying not to look desperate. It wouldn't do for his yogurt to ruin before he could enjoy it.</div>
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"What for?" the man asked tiredly.</div>
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He bit his lip and tried to think of a proper way to state his reasoning. "To store spoils I got m'self on shore, Sir," he said, and grimaced as the worst of his small town accent showed through in his nervousness. He never had dealt with stress well.</div>
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When the cook said nothing, Singe continued, "It would only be for a day or two, Sir, and you wouldn't have to bother with it none—" he cleared his throat "—I'd just come and get it when I get the breakfast for the prisoners in the morning. No trouble for you at all, Sir." He gulped.</div>
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The man nodded and hobbled on his short legs to a large bin at the back. He beckoned for Singe to hand over the lukewarm tub of yogurt, and then quickly stowed it among the other supplies</div>
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"Thank you." Singe saluted once more, and stated he'd be back within the hour for the prisoners' evening meal. The cook didn't seem particularly enthused with that idea.</div>
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He strolled down the hall toward his cabin, and almost made it there before he remembered; the flechette bats needed to be fed now that the storage rooms were filled again. Sighing, he took the route that would send him by Melissa's and Lauren's room so he could rouse them to help. It was their duty, after all.</div>
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After a few bouts of loud knocking on their door with no reply, he tried the knob.</div>
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It was open.</div>
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The door fell away from his hand easily, swinging inward. He stepped inside, expecting to see any standard middy's room—a trunk of belongings and carefully made cot for each, possibly with a few things on the side table. But it was empty. There wasn't a single thing in the room but the beds, stripped to the frame.</div>
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<i>Strange, </i>Singe thought, checking to make sure he had the right room. He refused to let himself get worked up about it—probably something simple. Bugs, maybe.</div>
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He sighed, and crawled out onto the ratlines. It seemed as though he'd be feeding the bats on his own tonight. Shuddering, he made a personal note to make the other middies run extra drills and give them the flechette bats for at least a week.</div>
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The ropes creaked in his grasp, and the brisk northern wind tore at his uniform in the fading light, sending a shiver up his spine. The sooner this was over with, the better.</div>
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Snagging a few feed bags from a team of riggers, he dropped down into the bat coves and started tossing the dried fruit about. From the shadows stepped a familiar shape.</div>
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"What are you doing here, Mr. Fitzroy?" Singe asked abruptly, not pausing in his duty. "This isn't your job anymore," he added, remembering the shock of seeing the boy's name on the plaque in the message lizard room.</div>
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The former midshipman tilted his head, fixing Singe with eyes as cold as ice but as golden as sunlight. "Wondering at the fact that when I served on this ship, we would have had these bats fed ages ago. And how now only one boy could be bothered to take care of the beasts. Quite pathetic, really." He took a few steps toward Singe, easily avoiding the guano that littered the floor. His gaze wandered around the cove, travelling among the swarms of bats and landing back on Singe. "Very pathetic."</div>
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Though on the inside, Singe was assessing how far he was from the drop off outside if he had to make an escape and what chance he'd have in a fight, he was careful to show only a cool amusement. A few more dried figs flew across the cove before he spoke. "I would ask you for help, but you never were quite good enough at this, so I would be afraid you'd sod it up and get us both kicked off this time."</div>
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A spark of anger flared in Fitzroy's eyes, but it was dampened almost before it showed. He continued as though Singe hadn't said anything, "The state of these bats is completely unacceptable."</div>
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Singe tried not to roll his eyes. "Last I checked," he said, tossing the last fig toward one of the smaller bats, "it's not your job to worry about how 'acceptable' our bats are. You're not the captain."</div>
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Fitzroy reached over his head and took hold of a ratline just outside the cove. "Unfortunately not," he growled, icy voice barely audible over the screeches of the bats, "As my request was refused by the Admirality." He swung away, leaving Singe to wonder if he'd heard right.</div>
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He emptied a second bag to the bats hastily and hurried down to the kitchens for his and the prisoners' food. There were brown paper bags waiting for him now instead of trays, and they numbered four. Frowning, he asked one of the cooks if that was right. The man nodded, sweat sliding down his large nose from the heat of the ovens.</div>
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"Each of them gets one," he said, wiping at his forehead. "The captain said you'd be eating with the rest of the crew tonight, not in the brig with the scum."</div>
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Singe was about to tell him the Rachel was not scum, but stopped himself. Instead, he shook his head. "Then who are the other two for?"</div>
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The cook's lip curled. "Scum," he said, and spat into a trash bin by his feet. "Of the traitorous kind."</div>
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Singe didn't say anything, just stood leaning on the doorframe, confused.</div>
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"You mean you ain't heard? Figured you'd be the first to know, I did. Your midshipmen, the two brothers, got tossed in the brig. Turns out that after the Admirality looked into them a bit, they<i>don't exist.</i>"</div>
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He choked on his own breath. "Wh-what?"</div>
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"Barking spies, they is. Clankers." His voice was low, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his thin mouth, </div>
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"The captain's still trying to decide what punishment's good enough for rotten ones like them. Good thing we caught them when we did, otherwise we coulda been the next ship going down in flames."</div>
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He hardly heard the last part because he was racing as fast as his legs would take him to the brig.</div>
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"Let me in to see them." It wasn't a request. It was a command. The man on duty seemed slightly </div>
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frightened by the darkness in Singe's voice, so he quickly shoved the key in the lock of the third cell that, until now, had been unoccupied.</div>
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The windowless room looked the same as the others, except that an extra cot had been shoved against the opposite wall. One of the girls was sitting on each, knees pulled up to their chests in defeat.</div>
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Melissa's head jerked up to see who'd come in, face lighting on Singe. "Newkirk!" she cried in a whisper. </div>
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"Thank God it's you."</div>
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"What's happened?"</div>
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"They think we're spies," Lauren offered miserably. "And I'm not sure if that's better or worse than finding out the truth."</div>
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"I already knew that much. But why?" He kept his voice soft, in case the guard outside was listening.</div>
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The door had already sealed behind them, and only the wormlamp gave off a soft glow as he placed himself on the edge of Melissa's cot, leaning on his knees.</div>
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"Everyone's been jumpy about all the ships going down, you know? So the Admirality's been trying to find a link between all of them, and they'd all had new midshipmen." She shook her head. "Terribly inconvenient coincidence. So they ran background checks on all of us who've been serving for less than a few months—I'm not sure on the details—like somehow we'd been leading the Clanker ships to the airbeasts so they could be destroyed or something.</div>
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"And they found out that there have never been a Miles and Levi Wilson who lived in London, born in 1897 and '95, at least. Then they saw the forgeries in our recommendation letters, and it was just too convenient that they let Levi live in the mountains, so they just assumed." Melissa wasn't even trying to keep her voice like a boy's. It was strange to hear her voice come out high and without the faked British accent—almost like he'd never even heard her speak before now.</div>
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"This may sound like a strange question," Singe said, not sure why he was even thinking about it, "but which of you is older?"</div>
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Lauren's eyebrows drew together in surprise, and Melissa jerked her head toward her sister. "Levi is, by almost two years."</div>
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"Hmm. I never would have guessed," he mused, earning a half-hearted glare from Lauren.</div>
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"But it's so much worse than all that," Lauren moaned softly, massaging her temples. "If they found out who we are—" She cut off, taking a quick glance at her sister. "It would be bad."</div>
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Singe pretended not to notice the exchange. "I'd noticed," he said drily. Suddenly remembering the bags clenched tightly in his fist, he handed one to each of them. "I brought you dinner. I'm not even sure what's in there, but it's hot."</div>
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The paper crinkled as it was folded over and they took out covered bowls of potato stew canteens of water. Melissa stared sullenly at the food. "It was nice to see you, Mr. Newkirk, but you should be going or the guard will be suspicious."</div>
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"Right," he agreed, nodding to the girls and stepping out while they began to eat their food in silence.</div>
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Not wanting to deal with Tad, he simply slid the bag inside the door and called out a sarcastic, "You're welcome!"</div>
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His heart began to pick up tempo as it always did when he was about to see Rachel. The guard took his time with the lock, and Singe tapped his fingers against his trousers impatiently.</div>
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Not soon enough, he was in her cell and handing over the last sack of food. "Your meal, my lady," he said, bowing slightly from his sitting position on her bed.</div>
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She chuckled and accepted the bag gladly. "Because we have stopped for new supplies, I get hot food now?" Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she inhaled the warm fumes of the stew.</div>
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Singe nodded as his stomach growled.</div>
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"Thank you, Eugene," she said, digging a spoon into the bowl. He watched in silence as she devoured the food with undisguised glee, not really caring about manners as she sat, cross-legged, licking her lips like any boy would. "Your captain will ask me questions in the morning," she said between mouthfuls.</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"You mean, interrogate you?"</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Yes, that is the word the man used."</div>
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He frowned. "So… will you tell them what they want to know?"</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"I—" now it was her turn to frown. "I do not know."</div>
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And that was how he ended up outside the interrogation room the next morning, ear pressed to the door he was supposed to be guarding after letting the man on duty believe Singe was the next shift.</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"State your name," the captain ordered.</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Rachel Astrid Steiner." Her voice came through the door clearly, proudly.</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Origin?"</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Excuse me?"</div>
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There was a sigh. "Where do you come from?"</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Ah, yes. I come from Rendsburg, Germany."</div>
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They went on like that for nearly twenty minutes, establishing the most basic of information, and Singe was only mildly interested until he started asking her different sorts of questions.</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"You were in the Kjolen mountains until five days ago. Why?"</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"I was working."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"On what?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Machines." He had to admit, she was skilled at avoiding questions.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"What kinds of machines?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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A slight pause. "Automatons," she said finally.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Were they of any involvement with the recent devastations of British airships?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Unfortunately, Captain, I cannot tell you that."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Singe could almost see the frustration on the captain's face. "Why is that?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Oh, come now, you certainly understand why. I have other loyalties, as you say." Her tone was calm, even reasonable, and he couldn't help thinking of how her English had improved in the last few days.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Then we will come back to that in a bit. Please explain your relationship with Midshipman Eugene Newkirk."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Singe sucked in a breath; he wasn't aware they'd been that obvious. This didn't bode well for either of them.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"I do not know what you are talking about," she said warily.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"I believe that escorting prisoners around the ship without orders is a serious breach of rules, is it not, Mr. Williams?" Captain Hobbes asked of the guard stationed inside the room. "Which results in serious disciplinary action. Possibly demotion, or, in serious cases, dishonorable discharge."</div>
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<br /></div>
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The blood froze in his veins, a cold sense of dread creeping through his whole body. This could be it for him. Blisters, they might even think he was a spy, too, and toss him in the brig with Melissa and Lauren.</div>
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He heard a rasping breath from the other side of the door. "He means nothing to me. He was merely a mark I could con into doing my bidding."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Is that so?" The captain almost sounded surprised.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Yes. He was easy to trick. Really, you shouldn't trust a mere boy with such things when they involve a girl his age, so ready to fall in love with him," she scolded, sarcasm dripping from the last of her sentence. "It was too simple. I've wondered if he'd even seen a girl in the last year with how he followed me around like an eager little <i>dog.</i>"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Vaguely, he realized that her English was not only better, it was downright <i>fluent.</i> Had anything she said to him, done in his presence, been the truth?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Meanwhile, the blood had started flowing again, now hot with rage and disbelief. The girl had <i>lied</i> to him, let him believe that she'd had feelings for him while he'd truly had them for her. It felt like she had stabbed him through the heart with his own rigging knife and twisted it around to make sure it hurt that much more.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
He leaned against the wall in anguish, sliding down till he was huddled against it on the floor. His body automatically curled around the wound in his chest.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
She hadn't stopped speaking, and Singe listened again because he couldn't bring himself not to. "…it's not his fault that he was so gullible. The Air Service should train their men to handle situations such as this."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"We'll see to it that he is reprimanded accordingly."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Don't get me wrong, Captain. The boy is not a fool, just young."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Are you not?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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"I am, but not in the same ways," Rachel muttered.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
The wood of the floor seemed too interesting in Singe's despair. The way it ran in singe lines from one end of the board to the other was so wonderfully simple. He wished life could be that way.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
But no, life was a tangled mess.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
It twisted in on itself, crossing over until it could never be set straight. The people that came into life sent in their roots and got snarled around so that even if they cut off their ties, they'd never be truly gone. There would always be a piece of them left, whether it hurt or not. That's just the way it worked.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
And now it was about to get even messier.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Before he knew what he was doing, he had shoved the door open and stormed into the room where </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Ronnie was sitting with her hands tied to a chair, the captain behind her.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Now? Now will you tell him?" he demanded. She looked away, and he took hold of her chin—the way he'd wanted to so many times so he could kiss her—and made her look at him. "The least you can do is tell him what you were doing in those mountains!"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
She met his eyes with a cold certainty. "<i>No.</i>"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
He stepped away, trying to hide how hurt he was, but against his will he fell to his knees "Why not?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"I won't tell <i>him</i>," she said, jerking her head behind her, "but I will tell <i>you.</i>"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Why are you doing this to me?" Singe yelled, clenching his fists. "I heard what you said! I know about all your lies now! So stop. Just stop. I'm done with you."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
He let all of his pain seep into those words, all the hurt he was feeling. His knees came off the floor and he turned away from her, ready to leave her behind.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"Orion Omega is a scam."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Singe froze, not trusting himself to speak.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"What?" asked the captain incredulously.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"It means nothing. It's only purpose is to distract from the real threat—Orion Alpha."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
His feet rotated without his permission, so that Singe came to face Ronnie again. "Go on."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"They've placed operatives on the ships that have been targeted or taken down to get Alphas on and ready to go. They are hidden in plain sight, something so normal on an airship that no one would suspect. The Alphas look exactly like the originals, just machines. We set them on a timer so that they'll go off automatically, and then…" she trailed off, something like pity in her voice, and—fear?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Dread crept up his throat like bile. "What are they? Are they here? On this ship?"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
She didn't say anything, just nodded her head ever so slightly.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
He took her by the shoulders, shaking her. "<i>How much time do we have?</i>"</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"None." She looked away. "You're out of time."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Suddenly, Singe was unsteady on his feet. He lurched to grab onto the chair before he fell. "We have to be able to stop them. What are they?"</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
When she met his eyes again, he could see the tears dripping slowly down her cheeks.</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
"You already know."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Footsteps pounded heavily down the hallway, and an airman stopped at the door, breathing hard. "Captain! There's something wrong with the message lizards! They're going crazy."</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
Suddenly, it all clicked. In the mountains, when he'd seen the little machines that looked so familiar—everything made so much sense.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">
He was on his feet and running before Rachel's face had time to pale.</div>
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<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
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<i><b>A/N: What did I tell you? 7 pages of scheming Clankers, yogurt-y suspense, and spies! *EVIL LAUGH*</b></i></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-40742095103258254802012-07-07T07:59:00.001-07:002012-07-07T07:59:36.134-07:00"Parents" Dalek weekThis will be my first submission to Dalek week, which starts tomorrow. The theme is "Parents" and I wanted to be a little creative on this one :)<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The door closed behind them with a soft click. Light from
the setting sun cast long shadows on everything in Alek’s room, much like
wormlamps did, but in bright oranges and yellows, not green.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Deryn wasn’t focused on any of that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She reached for her prince’s hand, feeling his fingers slide
into her like pieces in a puzzle. “Finally,” Deryn whispered, “Some time to
ourselves.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mmhmm,” Alek agreed, studying her features in the dim
light. She pulled him in close, leaning in for the kiss she’d been wanting for
days. The curve of his lips fit on her with a sort of—</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Aleksander!” Volger’s voice called from the hall. Alek pulled
back with a start, face pale.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mr. Sharp?” Deryn could hear Dr. Barlow at the door to her
room, to the left of Alek’s.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Blisters!” she cursed, searching frantically for an escape
route before the count could come barging in. <span style="background-color: white;">She rushed silently to the
balcony, judging the distance between Alek’s and hers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They’re like our parents,” Alek groaned, following her. He
bit his lip when he realized her plan, but didn’t say anything. He knew by now
she could make the jump, easy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn turned to face him, surprised. “Parents? Barking
annoying ones, then.” She climbed up onto the solid stone banister, holding out
her arms for balance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Very much so,” Alek said from behind her. “You can have
them,” he added with a wicked grin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn shook her head and leaned down to give him a quick
kiss, and then leaped quickly over the open space and on to the safety of her
own balcony. Her feet connected with the ground in a solid thump, and she
turned to give her prince one last, fleeting glance “<i>Dummkopf,</i>” was all she said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As she raced to open the door for Dr. Barlow, she heard him
call softly, “Love you, too!” and smiled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tada! If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please bring them to my attention.</div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-13864835847608521162012-07-02T20:28:00.000-07:002012-07-02T20:28:03.962-07:00The Roaring 1920sThis is my submission for "Roaring 20s", day 2 of Dalek week on www.deviantart.com .<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgqk5Ez-R7TEmIGsTlPQnpozPayzqlYUUfBi6btHYbKN4fW2XQi8gZMT_RtAbWQA0h0p7K6j5ohYxuI1641FZrCC2chiu6tZ-Zv3DwbeHk-ZAekV8wRj_O3skNzpuUtrqvVvJmE8OqEGq/s1600/image0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="467" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgqk5Ez-R7TEmIGsTlPQnpozPayzqlYUUfBi6btHYbKN4fW2XQi8gZMT_RtAbWQA0h0p7K6j5ohYxuI1641FZrCC2chiu6tZ-Zv3DwbeHk-ZAekV8wRj_O3skNzpuUtrqvVvJmE8OqEGq/s640/image0.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
If you don't mind a little explanation...<br />
Deryn is in a deviation of the pose made famous by Bonnie Parker (of Bonnie and Clyde, the infamous criminal duo). I chose it for her because, quite frankly, Deryn has attitude. You'll notice that she's wearing a dress (loosely modeled from a 20s flapper dress). Realistically, Deryn would not have been able to be in disguise for very much longer than the books, so in my version of their world, she became on of the pioneers of the "flappers", though only her clothing and hair style was true to the flapper reputation. She's always loyal to Alek, as he is to her.<br />
Alek is wearing a nice sweater (from an advertisement I found online from the mid 20s). He's being all cute and staring lovingly at Deryn while she's being all B.A. and stuff.<br />
Their car is a 1925 Chevy.<br />
I free-handed all of this, using photos as references for Deryn's pose, Alek's sweater, and the car. The hills in the background were admittedly random, but I thought a city-scape would be too large of an undertaking for my yet-amateur skills.<br />
Thanks for reading my blether :)Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-742555581124909422012-06-28T20:06:00.002-07:002012-06-28T20:06:57.927-07:00A Fictitious InterludeWhat you see before you is not another chapter of Orion, but a few little ficlets.<br />
So you're probably wondering how these came to be. Have all of you heard of the game "Apples to Apples"? If you have, great. If you haven't, this will be confusing. My brother and I picked out four of the green (adjective) cards per "round" and had to write a fic about one of them. See if you can guess what the words are from just reading them :) I'll tell you at the end what they ACTUALLY were.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alek bit his lip. This was going to be harder than he
thought. What could he possibly get for Deryn on her birthday? He had barely
any money, and his first idea had been to make something for her—a card, or
something of the like.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then he had remembered that Deryn was an artist, and he
most certainly was <i>not.</i> Anything he
could make would pale in comparison to the simplest of her works. So Alek was
back to square one. He sat in one of the high backed chairs in their hotel
room, miserable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Flicking at a tassle on the stool with his toe, he <span style="background-color: white;">didn’t
notice Bovril scamper in. It lept onto the back of the chair and down to his
shoulder, startling him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Any perspicacious advice for me?” He asked, defeated. The
loris’s nose twitched, and it cleared it’s throat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Be creative,” it said simply, and Alek thought he saw it’s
shoulders shrug, if that were even possible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thanks,” he replied drily, sighing. Then it hit him, and he
stood abruptly, knowing exactly what to do, and Bovril tumbled off his lap.
With a yelp and what was possibly a new curse Deryn had taught it, Bovril
stalked out of the room.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A day later, Alek led a blindfolded Deryn through an iron
door way, grinning like an idiot. “Why on Earth didn’t you warn me about the
elevator?” she growled. “<i>Dummkopf,</i>”
she added halfheartedly, not really in the mood to be upset with him. It was
her birthday, after all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alek didn’t say anything, just reached behind her and slowly
untied the cloth over her eyes, letting his arms rest on her shoulders
relishing in the touch of her soft golden hair on his fingers. He resisted the
urge to lean in and kiss her, but he didn’t want to ruin her view.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She let out a small gasp, taking in the entirety of the
London skyline. Then she shrugged, “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said, but
he could tell by her tone and the way her face was lit up that she was amazed.
She’d always liked being as close to the clouds as she could get.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah, yes, but not with such a wonderful dinner to go with
it.” He pulled out a seat around the table he’d set up earlier that day,
perfectly placed for her to admire how high up they were—the highest building
in London. Or, at least, the tallest one open to the public—and himself. The
food steamed as the cover came off, and Deryn smiled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The potatoes are a nice touch,” she said appreciatively,
sitting down. “How did you come up with this?”</div>
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Alek just smiled at her. “I had
to be creative.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, that’s delicious,” Newkirk said, his lip curled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>What?</i>” Alek asked
incredulously. “How can you find that ‘delicious’? If my English is correct—”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did your English classes teach you sarcasm?” Dylan said,
not taking his eyes off the enormous pile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Newkirk coughed and took a step back, waving a hand in front
of his nose. “That is one big piece of clart.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, what did you expect, Mr. Newkirk? The bears <i>are</i> the size of houses, after all. I’m
glad I don’t have to clean that up.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alek shook his head. “What are we even doing here?” His eyes
wandered along the trail, stretching as far as the eye could see in either
direction. He was comforted by the fact that the <i>Leviathan</i> was moored a mere hundred meters away, ready to take them
from the strange lands of Siberia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How old do you reckon it is?” Newkirk wondered aloud,
ignoring Alek’s question, and picked up a stray stick from the trees that
surrounded them, poking at it. “A few days, at least.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alek stumbled backward, thoroughly stunned. “Why would you
do that?” He would never understand Darwinists, he supposed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Newkirk shrugged. “For fun,” was all he said, and turned
abruptly toward the ship and picked his way along the trail back toward it.
Dylan was chuckling a high tone, and when Alek turned his gaze toward him, the
boy paled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?” he asked defensively.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why <i>‘delicious’?</i>
Of all words, why that one?” Alek shuddered, and the color returned to Dylan’s
face. He chuckled nervously and cleared his throat, leading Alek back to the
ship.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
“I haven’t a barking idea, Your
Princeliness.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn could feel the color rising in her cheeks, making her
face hot. She wanted terribly to avert her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Barking spiders, but the boy was trying to <i>flirt</i> with her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alek had his forearm laid awkwardly on the table, low enough
that he had to lean over in what could not have been a comfortable position.
The top button of his shirt was undone. A piece of hair fell over his eyes, and
he furrowed his brow for a moment before he blew it from his face with an
undignified noise that could only be described as that of an elephant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes?” Deryn asked, trying to sound more amused than
embarrassed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He propped his elbow up against the table now, running his
fingers through his hair. “Hey, there… you.” His voice was low, an attempt at
being seductive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hi.” She replied hesitantly, and Alek cleared his throat,
standing up and taking a slow step forward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was wondering,” Alek began, and when he voice squeaked at
the end, he paled and cleared his throat once more. “If you would like
to—um—have dinner tonight. With me,” he added hastily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn let her mouth drop open slightly, her eyes wide and
eyebrows slightly raised. “If you’ll stop doing that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Doing—doing what?” He tilted his head toward her, gazing at
Deryn through his lashes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That. Flirting.” The word stumbled from her mouth unbidden.
She grimaced, almost ready for him to scoff and deny it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh. Am I that terrible at it?” Alek asked, redoing the
button and straightening his shirt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn nodded. “Hopeless.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, I’ve reserved a table at that café you like for this
evening, if you’d like to join me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’d love to, Alek, just, please, don’t ever do that again.”</div>
<div style="border-bottom: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
Alek smiled at her, hooking his
arm around hers. “I hadn’t planned on it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn flexed her bicep. Alek’s eyebrows shot up, and she
fought off the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“See it and weep, your princeliness,” she gloated, admiring
her own muscles. Deryn looked up in time to see him take a glance at his own
arms, slight and thin without a few months of climbing about in the ratlines to
have strengthened them up, even though she’d been off them herself for nearly a
month.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I guess I can see the appeal of an airman to a lady,” Alek
admitted, eyebrows slightly raised in amusement. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quite masculine, I’d assume.
Although, that’s really not what I’m looking for…” he trailed off, waggling his
eyebrows at her. Deryn felt her stomach do a little flip, but squashed down the
feeling. A barking sod she was if that was all it took to get her insides
twisting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And what, <i>exactly,</i>
is it that?” she asked. Alek chewed at his lip as though trying to form his
thoughts into words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think you know, <i>Mr.
</i>Sharp,” was all he said. Alek grinned widely and reached out for her hand,
leading her away from the crowded courtyard of the Society and into a more
secluded area.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deryn raised her eyebrows as he leaned into her against the
wall, his lips inches from hers. “Are you sure about this, Alek? I may be a
little too <i>masculine</i> for you to
handle.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Quite sure,” he murmured against her mouth, and any reply
she would have had was smothered by his kiss.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[Insert all your guesses here]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The words were:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Creative</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Delicious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Flirtatious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Masculine</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope you enjoyed these! :)</div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-41882165612944291732012-06-19T13:15:00.001-07:002012-06-28T19:22:02.473-07:00Chapter 28 (At last!) (As said by SW)<br />
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<b>A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I've been away taking classes at a college for a week. It was super fun. Anyway, this was an amusing chapter to write. The first part was originally going to be a drabble, but it fit too perfectly with the chapter. And I DID do my research to see if it actually tasted good (It does…)</b><br />
<br />
Luckily for them, the townsfolk were used to drunken sailors acting crazy, so barely any of them were staring. The problem was, though, that Singe wasn't drunk.<br />
<br />
"This stuff is <i>amazing!</i>" he shouted, shaking his spoon at Deryn. "I can't believe you don't like it, Dylan!"<br />
<br />
She merely raised an eyebrow at him, and Alek tried not to laugh. Both the way Singe shoveled down the yogurt and how Deryn carefully avoided looking at him doing so were terribly amusing.<br />
<br />
"That's disgusting," she moaned, swatting half-heartedly in the midshipman's direction. "Would you barking cut that out?"<br />
<br />
Her hand fell to the table with a clatter, a bare centimeter from Alek's, stirring up the steam coming off of their mugs. It was deathly cold, being this far north, let alone the fact that it was still winter. The three of them were bundled in a second layer of clothes and still shivering, their breath fogging the moment it left their mouths.<br />
<br />
And yet, this was one of the best days of Alek's life.<br />
<br />
They'd wandered through town already, and stopped at a quaint little foreign foods café on the square when it had begun to drizzle. It had lasted a mere minute, but Alek was glad for the respite from Singe's crazy fascination with window shopping and Deryn's utter lack of attention to it. She'd been busy watching all the men, eagerly taking in their mannerisms and copying them almost flawlessly.<br />
<br />
Alek had been busy watching her.<br />
<br />
"Mmm…" Singe waggled his eyebrows at Deryn, enjoying taunting her. She bit her lip and swiped the bowl of yogurt from his hand, dumping it in his coffee.<br />
<br />
"Is it so delicious now?" She challenged him. Singe's eyes bugged out, and he stared pitifully at the dissolving mound in his cup.<br />
<br />
"Now why'd you go and do that?" he pouted.<br />
<br />
"For fun," Deryn said, one eyebrow arched. "Go on. See if you like it now."<br />
<br />
Alek bit his tongue laughing, and he stopped paying attention to the midshipman just long enough for him to take a big gulp of the contaminated drink.<br />
<br />
Now a few passersby were beginning to take interest, but at least they did it discreetly. They watched over top of their newspapers or ate their food absently, waiting to witness what would happen next. Maybe some expected a fight to break out.<br />
<br />
Disappointed in having not seen the boy's initial reaction, Alek kept his eyes riveted on the pair. Singe pursed his lips, contemplating, and then broke out into a huge grin. "Blisters, that's sodding brilliant," he gasped, and then took what was left of his yogurt and slopped it into Alek's coffee, slogging down the rest of his own. "Go on, try it!"<br />
<br />
Alek watched the slowly melting, light purple lump in the middle of his mug with distaste, sure that there would be blueberries waiting for him at the bottom. He picked up his spoon and stalled by swirling it around until his coffee had become a creamy brown. Avoiding Deryn's acid gaze, he brought the cup to his lip and sipped.<br />
<br />
Black coffee was not something Alek usually liked, but he didn't want to spare even the extra farthing on cream. So when the strong bitterness filled his mouth, he wasn't surprised. But the light taste of blueberry juice took the worst of the tart flavor away, and that was what lingered on his tongue, like the candies his mother used to give him for behaving the few times he'd been in public when his parents were still alive.<br />
<br />
It felt like the eyes of the entire square were on him, collectively holding their breath for his verdict.<br />
<br />
Careful to keep his tone neutral and his face blank, he said, "It's not bad." It was cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn't humiliate Deryn in front of so many people, and he couldn't outright lie. So he chose a safe middle ground. "Why don't you try it, Dylan?"<br />
She glared at him, hard, and shuddered. "You couldn't pay me five pounds to do that," she growled.<br />
<br />
"Oh, come now, I think we could come to an agreement," Alek coaxed her, holding out the glass. "It's really just the same as putting cream in, and a few blueberries."<br />
The girl must have seen the message in his eyes, because she grudgingly took the coffee and gulped down a small bit. She leaped straight into the air, shouting, "Blisters, that's sodding brilliant!"<br />
<br />
It took Alek a moment to realize just how sarcastic she was being, giving her just enough time to lean behind a bush and fake gag.<br />
<br />
"Barking terrible, really," she said once the laughter from their audience had died down.<br />
He could see how only the count and Bovril had seen through her disguise. They were so distracted by her boyish charm that the thought would ever occur to them, and no one would want to believe that someone so purely <i>entertaining</i> could possibly be anyone other than who he said he was.<br />
<br />
Alek sighed.<br />
<br />
"Well, then," he concluded, fishing through his pocket and pulling out a few small coins. "We'd better be off."<br />
<br />
"Aye," Singe agreed, and Deryn nodded. They both slapped a coin or two on the table, standing up at nearly the same time. Singe burrowed more deeply in his pocket to find enough for a tub of yogurt to bring back to the<i> Leviathan.</i><br />
<br />
In moments, they were strolling through town again, the gravel of the street grinding under their boots. Alek noticed the difference between his and the other two's. He still wore the boots of his Hapsburg Guard uniform, now repaired several times with the soles almost worn through, and suddenly an idea popped into his mind. Putting his hand back into his pocket, he counted out how much money he had left.<br />
<br />
"Dylan, do you mind if we take one more stop before returning?" Alek asked experimentally.<br />
<br />
She shrugged.<br />
<br />
"We've got until sundown," Singe reminded them. Much to the disappointment of the crew, the captain had announced their curfew as such, which meant the ever-popular nights of drinking <span style="background-color: white;">and dancing were just out of reach of the weary sky sailors.</span><br />
<br />
"Of course," Alek agreed. "I'm in need of new attire, if I remember correctly." He shot Deryn a glare, making sure she remembered the Society's New Year's party when he'd lost an arm wrestling competition and ended up wearing a dress, and the only reason Deryn had given as to her motives was that she'd wanted to see him in something other than his usual uniform.<br />
<br />
"It's about barking time," was all she said.<br />
<br />
"I saw a nice little shop on the way here, about a block down," Singe said, pointing to their left. "The prices looked good on their jackets and trousers. The boots were a little pricy, though."<br />
<br />
Alek sighed, following the midshipman. Singe's ability to remember things was like Deryn's to track down food—uncanny, amusing, and the slightest bit unsettling.<br />
<br />
They stopped in front of a door tucked in between a sweet shop and a hotel, so small that it seemed like an afterthought. Letters painted above the window read, "<i>Paul's Fine Apparel".</i> The small, faded awning was barely as wide as Alek was tall and spanned half the length of the storefront, a thick layer of snow nestled firmly on the top.<br />
<br />
Alek would never have looked twice at a place like this in his old life—that's how he thought of it now—, let alone shopped in it.<br />
<br />
A bell above the door dinged as he pushed it open, and a heavy-set old man lumbered out from the back. "Hello, and welcome to <i>Paul's</i>. How may I help you?" he said a bit tiredly, but the look on his face said he was happy to have customers.<br />
<br />
"I'd like to find a new set of clothes, please," Alek said. "If you could just adjust some ready made things, it would be much appreciated. I haven't enough money for newly tailored clothes," he admitted.<br />
<br />
The man looked him up and down, and nodded. "That'll be simple enough. A bit scrawny, aren't ya?"<br />
<br />
Alek blinked, looking down at himself. Indeed, he had lost a few pounds since he'd lived in a castle, but he hadn't thought it to be so apparent. He just looked more like Deryn or Singe now instead of a prince, and that didn't bother him in the slightest.<br />
<br />
"Can I do anything for the two of you?" he asked, turning to the others. Deryn shook her head, and Singe shrugged, stepping back. "Well, then, it'll be about fifteen minutes. I'll have this lad back to you soon."<br />
<br />
He shooed Deryn and Singe off, pulling out some light brown trousers and a tunic of dark blue.<br />
<br />
"If we just take this in a little, it should do ya fine." He instructed Alek to don the shirt, and the moment Alek had his off, the coldness hit his chest with a fury. Shivering, he pulled the other on quickly. It was soft against his skin.<br />
<br />
Alek stood awkwardly under the seamster's scrutiny. The man saw his discomfort, pursed his lips, and began to make conversation.<br />
<br />
"So what's a lad like you doin' up here? You ain't a midshipman, I can tell that."<br />
<br />
He frowned, pondering on whether to tell the man his position. "I work for the Zoological<br />
Society of London, Sir, and am here on a diplomatic mission."<br />
<br />
"Hmm," the man—Paul, Alek guessed—said. "I know why you're here."<br />
<br />
Alek jerked, narrowly avoiding a needle prick. "Pardon me?"<br />
<br />
"Everyone's heard the rumors, Lad. Hold still." He pulled a needle through the under arm of the shirt, and instantly that side seemed to fit better. Alek gulped uncertainly.<br />
<br />
"About the Sultan," the man told him, "A boy like you's certainly heard about what happened to him in their revolution?"<br />
<br />
"He was kidnapped by the Kizlar Agha," Alek offered, and Paul nodded.<br />
<br />
"And taken to somewhere mysterious for his own safety. No one's supposed to know where he is, but 'round here, we think he's in the hills on the British Mainland, hiding out, plotting his own comeback with the Clankers."<br />
<br />
"I see," Alek said, realizing this was the wild gossip of bored villagers, "And you think we're here to put a stop to him."<br />
<br />
"Sharp as a tack you are," Paul mumbled, rolling his eyes. There was a pause as he had Alek pull on the trousers next. Then he asked, "So, are ye'?"<br />
<br />
Alek sighed, his nerves now settled, and decided to let the man have something to tell his mates at the bar tonight. "Well, I can neither confirm nor deny that," he said elusively, which made it blatantly obvious what the man would assume the true answer to be.<br />
<br />
"Ah, yes." He pulled the needle through swiftly a few more times and bit the end of the thread, tying it. Nodding appreciatively at his work, he held out his hand for payment, and Alek dropped the coins into his hand.<br />
<br />
He waved goodbye as he left, clothes in hand, and met up with Singe and Deryn at the end of the street.<br />
<br />
As they passed back through the square on their way back to the ship, Alek smiled, seeing that the café's advertizing blackboard had a new item chalked on:<br />
<br />
Yogurt in coffee.</div>
<noad></noad></div>
</div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-26199410432780679972012-06-03T09:30:00.003-07:002012-06-03T09:30:48.272-07:00Chapter 27<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A/N: Hello, dear
readers! I have chapter 27 for you, obviously. I realized that I’d been
forgetting about both Max and Bovril (Sorry!), so I gave you an ample dose of
both of them this chapter. You’re welcome </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">. I really don’t have anything else,
so enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Disclaimer: I did not
magically become Scott Westerfeld, so most of this stuff isn’t mine. </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Zeus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
turned around to find Max grinning at her in the light of the cargo bay.
“Excuse me?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ve
come up with a name for my Roth Turtle. Zeus.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
looked at Max accusingly, crossing her arms. Bovril slipped on her shoulder a
bit, but quickly regained its position, rolling the new word around in its
mouth gladly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And why is it you felt
the need to inform me of this, Max?” she said, giving him a withering look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Because
I just knew it would make you smile, Mr. Sharp. Don’t try to hide it,” he
chided, and despite herself, Deryn could feel the edges of her mouth tilting up
infectiously. “See? I told you so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Bum-rag,” she mumbled,
and Max broke into laughter. Deryn stared at him disbelievingly. The man was ridiculously
optimistic whenever she saw him. Max couldn’t even bring himself to be properly
offended when she insulted him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe he knew she
didn’t mean it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“A
bum-rag indeed, Mr. Sharp, a bum-rag indeed,” he mused. “But don’t you want to
know <i>why </i>I chose such a brilliant
name for such a brilliant creature?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Not
particularly, no,” Deryn grumbled at him, but regardless of her answer he
launched into a speech of exactly how he’d come about naming the barking turtle
“Zeus”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well,
you know how all of the Monkey Luddites blether about how Darwinism is so godless?
I thought to m’self, what if I fixed that problem and gave Darwinism a god? So I named my turtle after the most famous of
the ancient gods. Problem solved.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn’s
eyebrows rose almost of their own will. “Nice of you to think of everyone.
Except that you’re still not supposed to name the beasties,” she added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
thought about that for a moment, glaring pointedly at the loris and effectively
reminding her that there was an exception to that rule right on her shoulder. It
simply curled around her neck and returned his gaze, wide eyes gleaming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Brilliant.
Just barking <i>brilliant.</i> Now you’ve
got the beastie saying it,” it said, parroting exactly what Deryn had once said
to Alek. “<i>Mr. </i>Sharp,” it added
thoughtfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Max
shrugged. “And I still don’t care.” He gave the bundle of newspapers in his
arms a hard look, and then said, “Would you like a periodical? I’ve picked up
more than enough for my crew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Aye,
if you wouldn’t mind” she said, gladly accepting the thick sheaf of paper. On
the front were several tightly spaced columns of print, and the title read, “Shetland
Pony Breeders Worry about Wolf Attacks”. Deryn held up the paper and pointed to
it. “Now, this here is some quality reading.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
shrugged. “Anything to pass the time. Good day, Mr. Sharp.” He patted Deryn on
the shoulder before turning away to finish overseeing the income of goods.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
eyed the crates of food with undisguised glee. She hadn’t had a real meal in
several days, and the thought of one set her mouth watering and her stomach
rumbling. She’d best find Alek and Newkirk so they could spend their precious
hours in port exploring the city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
don’t see why they’re complaining,” Lauren grumbled, swirling the teacup
clasped in her hand, “It is their barking fault, after all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alek’s
spine went rigid and his cheeks colored. Regardless of the fact that he was
well and truly a Darwinist, Deryn supposed, he still had an underlying loyalty
to the country of his upbringing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
had just finished reading a section of the paper on the peace talks between the
Clanker and Darwinist powers aloud, both of whom were quite eager to end the
war, but neither wanted to admit it. There were war debts all across Europe,
and someone had to pay them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It
seemed fair that it should be the Clankers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“They
don’t have the money!” Alek growled, barely containing his anger at the middy.
“No one has.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bovril
shifted uncertainly on Deryn’s shoulder, muttering nonsense very quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Except
America,” Melissa chirped. “Really, you should see all that’s going on back
there. Our dad’s the—he’s high up in the government, is all, and he knows we’re
better off than the rest of the world. Last I heard, he’s trying to send aid
over here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“That’s
not my point,” argued Lauren. “What I’m trying to say is that Germany and all
their lot should have to pay for starting the war. It will teach them not to do
it again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Melissa
raked her fingers through her cropped, dark blond hair. “<i>Or</i>, they’ll hate us and get revenge in the future. Please, Levi,
promise me you <i>won’t</i> be going into
politics.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“They
need to know that they can’t just—“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And
your solution is for them to instead freeze without roofs over their heads in
the winter because instead of fixing their own destroyed cities, they’ve been
paying for ours?” Alek’s fingers were pressed hard to the rim of the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lauren
was about to agree that, yes, that seemed appropriate when Alek spun around to
face her. “They’re people, too! Just like you and me! They have lives! There are
children out there who had nothing to do with this war who are <i>suffering</i>, and for what? Because their
higher-ups were the daft ones? Tell me how that is fair, I beg of you.” His
voice had gone deathly quiet, so that Deryn had to strain her ears to make out
his words. “Please.” He steadied his gaze right into her eyes, daring her to
contradict him one more time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lauren
couldn’t meet his glare. She mumbled, “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” and
abruptly stood, leaving the mess in a hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of
course you hadn’t,” Deryn said. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? No one seems to
think about it.” Her hand snaked into Alek’s, and his shook in her grasp. He
squeezed tightly and nodded his head in thanks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Newkirk
and Melissa made a point not to look at their interlocking fingers. Maybe their
minds still hadn’t wrapped around the thought that Dylan—Deryn—Sharp and Alek
Hohenberg were together. Deryn felt a delighted twist in her stomach at the
word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’d
better go,” Melissa said, sighing. “Levi and I should be taking our shore leave
soon,” she shrugged, though nothing of her stiff back and pressed lips made the
gesture nonchalant. “I’m sorry about him. He can be—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“There’s
no need to apologize for him, Miles,” Alek said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
nodded to him slowly. “Aye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Speaking
of shore leave,” Newkirk began, stretching back in his chair and showing Deryn
and Alek a wide grin once Melissa had disappeared, “Are you two going to be off
on your own, or is a poor, lonely sap like me invited along?” he asked, and
stuck out his lower lip in what was supposed to make him look pathetic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To
an extent, it worked. But then Bovril leapt from Deryn’s shoulder and right
onto Newkirk’s, and he yelped, tearing the beastie away and holding it at arm’s
length with poorly concealed alarm. It stretched out its wee hands at him,
making the Monkey Luddite grimace. “Are we taking this along?” he asked
uncertainly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of
course you’re coming with us” said Deryn, taking the loris back, and Newkirk’s
eyes lit up. “And Bovril won’t be coming; it’s too conspicuous. Right, your
princeliness?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,”
Alek agreed, supplying a small grin. “Say we meet at the ramp in half an hour?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bovril
climbed up into the ceiling of the mess and peered down at them with interest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sounds
great,” Newkirk said, and swiped his jacket from the chair. He bounded to his
cabin with a “See you then!” shouted down the corridor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, shaking with contained
laughter. “Barking daft lad,” she muttered, and flipped open the newspaper
she’d been clenching in one hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alek
let go so she could read it without sitting at the table, and Deryn felt the
urge to tell him not to. But it was too risky. The opening to the hallway was
in a popular part of the ship, especially with so many crewmen taking shore
leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She
settled instead for feeling the imprint his fingers had left on her palm and
began reading an article about what the town’s boffin was up to—pigment changes
in fur and skin on beasties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“How
about those purple llamas, Mr. Sharp?” Alek asked playfully from where he’d
been reading around her shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deryn
chuckled. “I think it’s for their horses, <i>Dummkopf,</i>”
she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
see,” Alek mused, “Although a purple llama would be most entertaining, don’t
you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Most
entertaining.” She took a fleeting glance at the dockyard below, seeing the men
scrambling about like dolls. “We should go if we’re going to meet Newkirk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alek
pursed his lip, as though considering the fact. “I suppose so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He
snapped for Bovril, who scrambled down from the ceiling and landed lightly on
his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Most
entertaining,” Bovril chuckled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A/N: That really is
pretty much what brought about WWII. The Allies made Germany take all the blame
and pay the war debts, so they were in terrible shape and looking for something—or
someone—to do to get behind and show the world they weren’t worthless and
horrible. They were more susceptible to
people like Hitler, who gave them something to blame and a goal to be
better not just than they are now, but anything in the world. You see?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Moral of the story;
look at both sides when making a decision. And that sounded corny, but it’s
true.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-57843021002730126022012-05-27T19:42:00.002-07:002012-05-27T19:42:25.976-07:00Remembering Bovril...Okay, you really don't have to read/look at this. It's just a chance for me to vent on recent events that made me sad. (Which is an understatement.)<br />
Going in to this, I was like, "Wow, this is going to be so cool! I'm going to take a bottle calf to fair!" I knew that this calf was small and not in the best shape, but when I saw him I was both thinking, "This will be harder than I thought," and "Don't worry, little guy. I'm gonna get you fixed up and you'll be the best calf ever. You'll win the fair," at the same time. He had massive scabs on his knees from falling a lot because he was so weak and his rear end was caked with clart and he was a sack of bones that barely came past my knees at a month old--that's small. He never really grew, and from early on he didn't have good luck. His mother was 16 years old and he got trampled in with the other cows. He lived with my uncle's dogs on the back porch until we brought him home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptu9qc2NRobSFVXJNfdSgozdrioG2awiFiLymdzZ8g2AHUjfHDmfxQHtaU5D_u37qk9gEB9nF02i7ajD6fTKSgfbY3fqeZrfCibcF1Ok580Z-uA05vc4OKOwsU5Fab1JUJzzNk7Cfzp-x/s1600/IMG_2141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptu9qc2NRobSFVXJNfdSgozdrioG2awiFiLymdzZ8g2AHUjfHDmfxQHtaU5D_u37qk9gEB9nF02i7ajD6fTKSgfbY3fqeZrfCibcF1Ok580Z-uA05vc4OKOwsU5Fab1JUJzzNk7Cfzp-x/s320/IMG_2141.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I got up at 5:40 every morning to feed him, and after about 10 days his appetite finally grew. He was eating not only milk in the morning, half a bottle in the afternoon, and another full in the evening, but he munched on grass and hay and all the like, too. On his second Wednesday, he was the epitome of a healthy cow. We'd bandaged up his knees and cleaned him up, and our four dogs were even getting used to him, and we were almost ready to be able to let the gate open on his pen at all times. He was our little calf that could.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYRpL9j7lQD7FLD2NaevtaZ9ulovpoJGq5LMy8YEcvhT8wDjkxZ_KceXPIS0MHGqG3llfx0eODPeYRrT5G52_vSR3jnsqKs8zTT4E73JZHAd2aVWQzJjdQrmq8zt-P6WtbpuFkcbnG8YE/s1600/IMG_2136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYRpL9j7lQD7FLD2NaevtaZ9ulovpoJGq5LMy8YEcvhT8wDjkxZ_KceXPIS0MHGqG3llfx0eODPeYRrT5G52_vSR3jnsqKs8zTT4E73JZHAd2aVWQzJjdQrmq8zt-P6WtbpuFkcbnG8YE/s320/IMG_2136.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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And then on Saturday it all turned for the worst. He didn't want any food Friday night and was inactive, and when I got home from my commitments on Saturday morning his belly had bloated to twice his size. I could hear the sloshing of what's called frothy bloat and the echo of the gas on his insides like he were a balloon. He didn't want to move. From the advice of someone on Facebook, we cut up a garden hose to use as a stomach tube to get some of it out. We pushed it down his throat and after a little while the most rotten smelling stuff started coming up. But it made me happy. I would have smelled it all day, because I thought that meant that he would get better, that in the morning he'd be ready for his bottle and we could put it all behind us. I didn't care that he looked as thin as the day we got him because that meant the crap was out of him and he was on the road to recovery.</div>
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I couldn't have been more wrong.</div>
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The next morning he'd bloated again. We had to drag him out of his house to see how bad he was, and withing a few hours he wasn't able to stand up on his own. His breathing became shallow and his eyes sunk in. When my uncle came to see if there was anything he could do, my sister had taken me to some graduation parties, partly to get my mind off of Bovril. It didn't work. All I could think about was getting back home to see how he was doing. When I left, I didn't know that that was the last time I'd ever see him.</div>
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He barely made it back to my uncle's house before he passed. He wasn't even out of the car yet.</div>
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I didn't find out until the next Wednesday because I was too afraid to ask.</div>
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I still can't believe I only had him for two weeks. It feels like a whole part of my life has been ripped away from me. Like it has to have been longer--things that important and life changing are never so short. It's hard to think that only three weeks ago today my mom and I were building him a little house and driving down to get him. One week ago, probably within a few hours ago, he died, and I didn't know. I was holding on to the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, I'd get him back and all would resume as it had been. That possibly I'd be taking Bovril, poor little underdog Bovril who'd been given one chance, to fair. I wanted so badly to bring him back to my uncle at the end of the summer with a blue ribbon on that very calf that had scabs on his knees, poop on his butt, and ribs showing through his skin, the one that would have a shiny coat and a spring in his step, well fed and bright eyed. The one who defied all odds and made it when everything was stacked against him. We really thought he would.</div>
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But now, our little calf that could, he never will.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30pHfgf-qcu2oLOOye9RGOauNqAVdhu8GhXc_LISrGoMHF67JvIHbQpCdj0MbBG_60wYzPNI_nhgITUy41Yo11z93eH6jQcW_RgloYn3qgzmEKHbkP8j7nm8yuSG3M0Y125zQNvpQKWM1/s1600/IMG_2128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30pHfgf-qcu2oLOOye9RGOauNqAVdhu8GhXc_LISrGoMHF67JvIHbQpCdj0MbBG_60wYzPNI_nhgITUy41Yo11z93eH6jQcW_RgloYn3qgzmEKHbkP8j7nm8yuSG3M0Y125zQNvpQKWM1/s320/IMG_2128.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Rest in Peace, Bovril the calf.</div>
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Wherever you are, know that</div>
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I'll always love and remember you.</div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-10888220019689384412012-05-25T14:32:00.000-07:002012-05-25T14:34:11.089-07:0026...<b>A/N: Is it fluff? Is it a hint at someone's secret plot? Is it<i> totally awesome?</i> I can only answer "yes" to one of these completely unbiased-ly, but I'll leave it to you to figure out which one. Well, go on. Read!</b><br />
<b>Disclaimer: I am not SW, so I don't own the characters, creatures, or settings he created. I do, however, own the stuff I did.</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Breakfast?”
Singe asked, leaning around the doorway into Ronnie’s cell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Is
that you, Eugene?” She called back to him, straining her eyes in the darkness.
Singe quickly pulled out his whistle and piped for the wormlight hanging in the
ceiling to glow. She squinted at it for a moment, blinking, then turned to grin
at him. “It is you,” she said brightly, her face bright green but spotted with
dark shadows. It was still before dawn, and they would be over Unst in less
than five hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
cooks would be the only crewmen up at this hour, preparing the half rations for
all of the crew—even the guards had nodded off—and in their early morning
groggy state, they hadn’t objected to giving out the prisoners’ meals a bit ahead
of time; the first of it would already be cold when the men woke up, anyway. He’d
merely said he’d been getting a head start on his middy’s duties for the day—or,
rather, he had gotten up early so he could carry out his plan and only be
partially behind on his tasks, but he’d conveniently left that part out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
brandished the two biscuits, cups of coffee, and meager servings of potatoes
like they were the King’s feast. The meals were set down on Ronnie’s bed, and
she sat on her pillow, he opposite her, their legs crossed as they leaned over
the food and dug in. Singe picked up his biscuit, tearing it in half without
hesitation. The first was eaten in a single bite, the second placed on the girl’s
tray. In the dim light, she frowned at him. “The food is yours,” she insisted,
and flicked the small half back onto his plate. “You eat it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Shaking
his head, he deliberately plucked up the biscuit, holding it in the air between
them. “<i>If</i> I eat this biscuit, you
agree to eat half of my potatoes and tour the ship with me before the rest of
the crew wakes up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
mouth formed that little “o” shape it always did when she was surprised. “You
are allowed to do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Singe
bit his tongue. “You’re avoiding my question,” he countered, avoiding <i>her</i> question. She closed her mouth and
swallowed, her brow creasing into little wrinkles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
would love to do that,” Ronnie admitted, “but I do not want you to be in
trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll
be fine,” he said quietly, meeting her deep green eyes. She held his gazed for
a moment, so intense that he felt a clenching in his heart and his lungs stop
working in shock. Ronnie was breathtaking, even though her blond hair was
covered in grime and tangled in knots, her skin darkened by grease and her
fingernails were chewed to stubs. She had an aura about her, one that drew
Singe to her. To distract himself, he lifted up the piece of bread so that it
blocked his line of sight into her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
smirked at her, pulling his biscuit apart and placing half of his potatoes
inside. Dumping the other part onto her plate, he swallowed his sandwich. “Eat
up,” Singe said with his mouth full, “We’ve got a long tour ahead of us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Would
you like to see the message lizard room or the mess hall next?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ronnie
chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “I do not need any more food,” she said,
grinning at him impishly, “So we shall see lizards now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
reached down for her hand to lead her there, but drew it back sharply, placing
it on her shoulder instead and steering her out of the room. The corridors were
still dark, the wormlamps resting because no crewman would have use of them…
yet. Singe estimated they had another half an hour before the general wake-up
call was sounded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Rounding
a corner, he pulled her into the second room on the left. “Now you have to be
quiet,” he said, “or the lizards will all wake up and start chattering. Barking
unsettling, that is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ronnie’s
silhouette nodded mutely, her eyes twinkling. Singe took out his handheld
wormlamp from his pocket, and the soft green glow filled the small room. On
either side of them were cages about the size of a man’s head, stacked up to
the ceiling all the way to the end of the room. The far side was filled with
the boffin’s desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It
looked different than usual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In
truth, he’d only been in there once or twice, but Dr. Williams’ desk wasn’t
easy to forget. He was the most unorganized boffin Singe had met in the
Service, and he had always left papers and files strewn about his desk and rarely
could the fabricated wood be seen through them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
it was spotless. The files were stacked neatly into a single small pile, and a
wooden filing cabinet was filled with papers, organized alphabetically. One of
the cages was in the center of the desk, holding three message lizards. They
looked normal enough, but none of them were asleep like the rest of the
beasties in the room. Two kept twitching. Singe looked closely at the plaque
that should have said Williams’ name, and then he swallowed a gasp of surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
dully shining surface read, <i>“Sebastian
Fitzroy”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“What
are they for?” asked Ronnie’s voice incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Uh,
this isn’t really all that interesting of a place,” he whispered, pushing her
back toward the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes
it is,” she whispered back, resisting him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Taking
a step back, he stumbled and fell onto the wall of the cages, and immediately
groggy voices filled the room. Ronnie’s face paled, and she backed out of the
room. “They have seen us? You will get in trouble?” she said when they’d made
it into the hallway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“No,”
he assured her, “That was the message lizards talking. It’s what they’re for.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s
okay, really.” He placed his hand on her shoulder to find she was shaking.
Ronnie shied away from him, avoiding his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
thought that...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sh.
It will be fine, I promise. Now, do you still not want to go to the mess hall?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Then
we have just one last stop and the grand tour of the <i>Leviathan</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
will admit that Darwinism is amazing,” she said, after “wow”ing for about the tenth
time in the in as many minutes. She wasn’t like most Clankers, the kind who
shuddered at even the thought of a fabricated beastie; she always went in for a
closer look, from the bees to even the gastric channels. At the moment they
were exploring the recycling systems located just to the right of the gastric
channels, directly above the gondola’s back end. The beasties here, slug like
things the size of dogs, ate all the paper the crewmen were done with—classified
mail that needed disposing, letters that had been read so many times they’d
fallen apart, simple stationary notes—and spit it back out as clean pulp that
could be pressed back into new paper. “I do not know that we have anything that
can do this,” she said, “at least not where I have been.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well,
we are pretty amazing,” Singe said, puffing out his chest in a gesture of mock
bragging.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“I
know you are,” she muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Spluttering,
Singe replied, “I don’t even understand half of this barking stuff! I fall
asleep during lectures!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She
punched him on the arm playfully. “You? No…” A mischievous grin was tilting the
corners of her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
regretted teaching her sarcasm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A
half-asleep crewman stumbled into the room at that moment, and Singe pulled
Rachel by the arm in between two of the sleeping beasties. They let off a thick
odor, and a puddle of slime had gathered around one of them. <i>Don’t think about it!</i> Singe told himself.
He took a fleeting glance at the watch on his wrist, and cursed under his
breath. They’d lost track of time, and now the entire crew would be awake in a
matter of minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
airman looked about dazedly for a moment as if wondering how he’d gotten there
and then turned away, muttering something about the bathroom. Singe counted to
ten and then ushered Rachel out into the corridor. They rushed through the
least used hallways to get back to the brig and managed to get back into the
cell without a sound, the guards still snoozing lightly. The instant the door
had closed, they broke into insane giggles. “We made it,” Singe gasped,
clutching his side and trying to regain control.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes,
yes,” Rachel laughed, and Singe stepped toward her, leaning down until his
forehead was against hers. He looked deep into her widened eyes, closing the
few inches to kiss her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She
turned from him so that his lips landed on her cheek, and said “Shouldn’t you
be giving Tad his food?” with a pointed look at the tray he placed on the
fabricated wood in the corner before they’d left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
closed his eyes tightly, bringing himself back into reality. She was still a
prisoner on the opposite side of the war, and he couldn’t do this with her. “Yes,”
he said solemnly. “I’ll be back with dinner,” he added without a look over his
shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Goodbye,”
she called softly after him. He could hear traces of shame in that one word,
and was that… disappointment?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
shook his head, clearing it of her aura. It was no wonder the Service didn’t
allow girls aboard willingly. At least, not very often. They were too
distracting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
door squeaked open and Singe shouldered his way in to Tad’s cell. “Rise and
shine!” he called boisterously, expecting to find the Clanker curled up on his
cot, still asleep. Instead, he was sitting up in bed, eyes fixed on Singe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well,
where’s my ‘grand tour?’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-86477050549575672442012-05-17T19:31:00.002-07:002012-05-17T19:31:31.559-07:00Chapter 25!Pat me on the back. It's been less than a month. I guess I have my brother to thank for this, considering it's his ninja wizard plotting skills that motivate my writing. We have a system; he does most of the plot and I do the writing. He's makes the skeleton and I put on all the things that make it whole. :)<br />
Disclaimer: I don't own this. I'm getting waaaaay too tired of saying that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We have a problem.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All three of them said it at the same time, and then stopped.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, go on then,” Deryn ushered Newkirk, taking a seat at the mess table. She and Alek had rushed there the moment they were dismissed from the meeting, which had ended quickly after Fitzroy’s debriefing.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It’s... a private matter, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mr. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sharp.” Newkirk raised his eyebrows, willing Deryn to understand. “I don’t think I can tell you here,” he muttered, nodding toward Melissa and her sister, who were catching up on lost time by one of the windows. “Perhaps the gastric channels?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek shuddered beside Deryn, and she shook her head. “It’s alright, Mr. Newkirk, you can’t tell them anything they don’t already know.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn could feel Alek stiffen beside her, and Newkirk spluttered, “A-are you sure?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” she said firmly. “Now, go ahead.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, it’s about Tad. He... knows. Who you are.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “And it’s my fault.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“As it turns out, Mr. Newkirk, I would appear to be several people. You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek took a seat next to her after he rigidly draped his piloting jacket of the back of his chair, smiling grimly.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If only it weren’t so complicated, she thought. When she was a little wee lass, she’d never dreamed she’d amount to be anyone, and and now she was three people. It wasn’t all bad, of course, and she much preferred it to being a woman stuck at home with a baby on her hip, but it would be nice if she knew exactly which person she was nowadays. She may have been born Deryn, but she was spending most of her life as Dylan, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to go back. Her pa had always said things were easier done than reversed.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“That’s the thing,” Newkirk growled, “I don’t know how </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">much </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he knows, just that he knows more than he should. He’s pieced it together that there’s a girl in the Service.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The conversation between the sisters stopped abruptly. Levi took a deep breath. “That would be my fault,” she said.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Excuse me?” Newkirk asked. “You told him about Deryn? How would you even barking know?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Levi walked over to the table and leaned on the back of a chair. “Let me explain, Mr. Newkirk. I’m Lauren Wilson, and this is my sister, Melissa.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn was sure that anyone passing in the hall could have heard Newkirk slap his forehead. He turned to Deryn and gave her the most withering glare she’d ever seen. “You mean, there’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">more</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> of you?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No,” she said patiently, “They’re Americans.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek looked up from his slouched place next to her and offered, “Like in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Perils of Pauline</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,” and ran his hands through his hair, rolling his eyes.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Newkirk gave him a confused look and then turned back to Deryn. “In the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">British</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Air Service? How’d you pull that off?”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Melissa cleared her throat and joined the group. “It was my idea, really. Our mom sent us to boarding school over in England, which we needed recommendation letters for. And the Service needs those, too, see? So we changed a few important details and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">voila!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Easy as pie.” She ignored Deryn grumble about how making pie was not, in fact, easy. “Lauren’s a dab hand at forgery.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We had to study the Manual like crazy, of course, and teach each other to act like boys, but there were a few weeks in between arriving in London and taking the middies’ test. It was pure luck that the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leviathan</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> was needing a few more midshipmen. You know everything that’s happened from then on. So, here we are.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lauren’s head was in her hands. “Not everything,” she groaned. “I told them my secret to save my life. They were going to kill me--I was lined up next to Rigby and Thompson, and they were going to shoot me in the head. Right before, I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">screamed</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> it. What I was, and they threw me aside. I was a coward and I watched them die. I didn’t do</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> anything</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to save them! Nothing!” she growled, ashamed instead of frantic.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Melissa took her sister into her arms, stroking her head. “They kept me alive to blackmail the Service. I was so afraid of them, what they might have done to me.” She sniffled once, then blinked a few times, but that was all there was to her crying. “You know who Ronnie is. She became my friend, and she was the only one who knew any English, other than Tad, but he’s a bum rag and I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“He’s perspicacious!” shouted Bovril, and Deryn looked down at it in surprise. The loris had been strangely quiet lately, only muttering the words it learned and not speaking out much.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, it seems so,” Newkirk agreed, looking out the window. They were passing over the sea again, on the way back to Britain. Unst was only a day away now, and once they arrived there they’d finally have more food. Deryn’s stomach growled at the thought of finally having fresh potatoes again instead of the staling bread and old potatoes at any of the two meals they were served on half-rations.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I didn’t tell him about having a sibling also serving,” Lauren insisted, “If he knows anything new, it’s because he figured it out on his own.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Perspicacious,” Bovril trilled, then went on muttering.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“How much do we </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">know</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> he knows?” Deryn asked, feeling the hysteria rise in her throat. Depending on how much Tad knew, there was no limit to what he could blackmail any of them into doing. She took a gulp of air and tried to steady her racing heart. It would be okay. They would figure something out.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I don’t know!” Newkirk repeated, kneading his knuckles into the table. “He wouldn’t tell me anything else.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek took a deep breath. “When do you feed him again? You could hold it from him until he told you something.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nodding, Lauren said, “That’s a good idea. If he refuses, just eat the bum rag’s food right in front of him. Pretty soon he’d be begging to tell you all he knows.” She smiled grimly. Melissa was gaping at her in disbelief. “What? He’s a complete bum rag.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“They’re due to get lunch in about an hour.” He shrugged, probably thinking forward to his own lunch.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn was about to speak when she heard the scrambling of a message lizard overhead. Without preamble, it began speaking in Dr. Barlow’s voice, a little less calm than usual. “Mr. Sharp, Mr. Hohenberg, please report to the bridge </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">immediately.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’re on our way, Doctor,” Alek said, standing up and snatching his jacket from the back of the chair. “End message,” he added quickly, and the lizard blinked and scrambled back into the tubes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chair legs scraped across the floor as the other four stood. “We’ve got some bats to feed, if you’ll excuse us,” Melissa said, completely like Miles again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Of course,” Newkirk nodded to them and then ambled slowly out. “Tell me how it goes,” he told Deryn, and clapped her on the shoulder. He was about to do the same to Alek when the other boy flinched away--his arm was much better now, but that would still hurt. “Sorry,” he apologized awkwardly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek gave him a good natured smile and chuckled. “No harm done. But we’ve got to be going. Dr. Barlow will have our heads if we’re not fast.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Nice of you to show,” Dr. Barlow said cooly, fixing them with a disapproving look.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We had to climb almost the whole barking length of the ship! And not to mention Alek’s slow as a box of turtles on the ratlines!” Deryn protested, but another glare from the lady boffin quieted her. Boffins seemed to have that effect on everyone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bridge was less crowded than earlier that day, with only the captain, Dr. Barlow, and Dr. Busk clustered around one of the various tables. Deryn and Alek had just taken their place in the crowd when the door emitted yet another person.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Fitzroy, right on time,” Captain Hobbes welcomed him, vacating a place next to himself. “Now we’re all here. The head falconer should be here any moment, with an injured strafing hawk discovered flying near our ship.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s rare,” she said softly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The captain was nodding solemnly when a burly man stumbled through the door, a strafing hawk clinging to his arm. There were voices coming from where he was, and for a moment Deryn thought the hawk was talking. It was then that she saw the three message lizards scrambling along it’s back, two of them squawking in many different voices. The third was completely silent.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Fire! Fire!” one of the lizards shouted. “We’ll all die!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, no! Jump ship!” the other cried. “Lord help us!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A chill ran up Deryn’s spine, and her jaw dropped.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Save what you can! Jump ship! We’re on fire!” it shrieked, then made the sounds of a crackling blaze. Then it coughed, and said in a somewhat calm voice, “Tell whoever you find that it’s happened again. And it’s them! Their spitting fire! The--oof!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“God’s wounds, won’t it stop?” Alek asked hysterically, the only one in the room able to speak.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The captain waved his hand distractedly, staring at the frantic animals. The falconer swiftly put small black hoods over the heads of the three lizards and the hawk, who had been fidgeting anxiously. They quieted down considerably, but the occasional shout of “Fire!” could still be heard from under the cowls.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn’s upper lip was quivering, so she bit down on it hard, leaving a deep imprint of her teeth in her mouth and only barely avoiding drawing blood. “Why is that one quiet?” she asked, glad to find her voice was steady and deep. It was the safest question she could think of.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was Fitzroy who answered. “It’s attic’s scrambled,” he said simply.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then why are the other two raving mad?” Alek reached up to scratch his scalp; Darwinism was still infinitely confusing to him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You can’t possibly expect every lizard to act identically to the one next to it,” Fitzroy spluttered. “That would be like saying that Dylan would choose an apple over a pear just because you do, too.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It is quite strange,” Dr. Barlow muttered, peering closely at the silent lizard. “Almost all lizards react similarly to trauma, and this one appears to be completely normal.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’ll investigate it,” Fitzroy offered, gathering the lizards before the lady boffin could get too good a look at them. “It </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> my job, after all,” he added, glaring pointedly at Deryn. As he left the room, lizards in arm, Deryn swore she heard him mutter something about zookeepers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She took a deep breath, shaking her head and resolving to investigate his new job later. Turning back to the captain, she asked, “But, sir, what does all it mean?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The only thing it can. We’ve lost another of the AirFleet.”</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-2163928954969767762012-05-04T19:53:00.001-07:002012-05-04T19:53:54.360-07:00Chapter 24. A month exactly after 23.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay, I really, really apologize for not having written this sooner. I have been so busy lately, and then I had writer's block, and all that kind of stuff. But I got it plotted out with my little bro, and then it just flowed out of my fingers. So, here it is! Tada! Enjoy it, please!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Disclaimer: I still don't own this.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bridge had more people in it than Alek had seen since Tesla had been first brought aboard. He cringed thinking of the man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“... And at that point, sir, Midshipman Fitzroy led the prisoners to brig and we were all dismissed.” Deryn saluted and clicked her heels.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Thank you, Mr. Sharp,” Captain Hobbes nodded, and Deryn sat down. “I would like to formally congratulate you and your crew for finding Mr. Wilson alive. Although it was a mystery that he alone was spared, I’m sure all of us are grateful he has returned to us alive.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek noticed Deryn stiffening beside him, but she relaxed just as soon, and he wondered if maybe he’d imagined it. “Unfortunately, the rest of the crew have been confirmed dead.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The room was silent for a moment out of respect.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek’s mind was still reeling from Deryn’s account of the mission. He had been stuck here on the bridge with the lady boffin and the officers. Of all the scurrying dots on the ground, he hadn’t been able to pick out Deryn, and he’d clenched his fists for so long in worry he still had red marks on his palms the next morning. The thought that she had been down there, with all that rubble and a few bombs that could have gone off at any time because they didn’t explode on impact, was still twisting his stomach into knots. He missed the time just a few weeks ago when the greatest danger had been falling out of the tree, not him getting shot and Deryn risking her life for a few machine scraps.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The girl we captured is perplexing,” Dr. Barlow remarked, stroking Tazza’s head absently, “I’ve tried to speak with her, but she will say nothing in any language other than her name. I’ve already tried to speak with her a few times since she woke up. Rachel, she is called, is on mild painkillers for a blunt force head injury.” She shot Deryn a pointed look, and Deryn only shrugged. “Mr. Newkirk is serving her and the boy breakfast as we speak.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She and Deryn exchanged glances, and the lady boffin nodded slightly. Deryn said “Sir, the Zoological Society has brought us in contact with Thaddeus before. His father is the German Count Abbott Welker. They may be the most devoted Clankers I ever met, sir. The boy insulted Darwinism in the middle of barking London! And the bum rag almost looked pleased when he heard about all those poor airships! If there’s anyone behind all this, him and his Da would be part of it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The captain nodded and smoothed his beard. “In that case, I’ll need a full debriefing from all that have encountered the count and his son previously.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek glanced worriedly at her and Dr. Barlow. That was a tricky subject. How much could they tell the captain without giving up Deryn’s secret?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Fitzroy, please begin your debriefing,” ordered the captain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sebastian stood up, straightened his uniform, and saluted Captain Hobbes. “Thank you, sir. I was with the second group of airmen deployed, and I searched the compound with Coxswain Clarke. As you know, some of the air bombs were duds, and as a result the Clankers had all gathered in a single area, in a building that was mostly intact. They were armed with mostly pistols and a few larger guns, and when another group of men joined us we were at a stalemate with them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It was then that I had an idea. I’d recently learned how aerial bombs work in my classes, so I thought I could figure out how to fix one. The others held off fire while I fixed and set the duds on a timer, and we took them secretly to the backside of the building and got away as quickly as we could. It was a success and none of the Clankers were left alive.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bridge was silent for a moment, and even the message lizards that had been scurrying along the ceiling had stopped. “It was then discovered,” Dr. Busk said, rubbing his palms together, “that it had been the central intelligence building of the compound, likely where all the information on the Orion Omega was stored, along with all other experiments and many other things that would have been useful to the Air Service. Upon inspection of the remains,” he paused, looking pointedly around the room everyone’s face for just a moment, “my team found a disturbing file. Only one sheet had survived, and a few partials of others, and the distinguishable words read: ‘Orion </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alpha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">; Mission success.’”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow’s hand flew to her mouth, and Alek’s fists clenched. “Alpha?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fitzroy ran his tongue along his lower lip. “But it has already been decided that Orion Omega is the threat, last in the line and most dangerous,” he barked, grabbing the ends of the table and turning his knuckles white.</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“That’s what we should focus on, not this ‘Alpha’ blether! It doesn’t mean </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">anything</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then why would it say ‘mission success’? And there was part of an illustration, one that looked like some sort of flamethrower,” Dr. Busk shook his head, “and fire is one of the most lethal things for an airship. This can only mean that there are two parts to the Clankers’ plan, whatever it may be, and it could be worse than we’d ever imagined. Yet now we have nothing but charred scraps of unreadable paper when we were so close to discovering what that plan is, possibly saving </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">hundreds</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> of lives. Nothing, thanks to Mr. Fitzroy’s brilliant plan.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Surely there was nothing else that could be done in his situation,” the captain told him, raising a hand to calm the man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I have just a question for you, Doctor.” Sebastian tilted his head and stared at boffin, waiting for a reply.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, go ahead, boy,” Dr. Busk said gruffly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Just how many times have </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">you</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> been awarded the Air Gallantry Cross for bravery in battle?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No one spoke.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From what Alek had gathered, Fitzroy was always perfect boy in front of adults, but when none were around, he was Fitzroy, arrogant and nasty as ever. This side of him would be new to the captain and all the officers.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well?” he challenged.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“None, but I ha--”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I see.” Sebastian drummed his fingers on the map table, staring unflinchingly at the gray haired boffin. Then he chuckled a little, a cold, maniacal laugh. “Maybe I should just have your job, then.”</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-38694352244170191202012-04-05T20:57:00.001-07:002012-04-06T12:42:41.160-07:00Random ficletsSo, here are the ficlets I told you about. The first one is called "Fortify?" because it relates to the Bonus Chapter and Art, the second one "I Promise" for reasons you'll soon discover, and the third "Happy April Fool's Day" for obvious reasons. They contain other explanations with the actual stories, too, in case you get confused. Read away!<br />
Disclaimer; this isn't mine. Well, it is to an extent, but not enough to count.<br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>A<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> tribute to The Bonus Chapter and Art, posted to the Westerblog on December 16, 2011.</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Four people stood crowded around a table, huddled over cluttered maps and diagrams. They were all tired, worn out from a long day of hard scheming. The sun was drooping an eyelid at them in the sky, yawning as it fell into its place below the horizon. Alek watched it with a sort of jealous fixation, counting the minutes ticking by, waiting for the moment he could retire to his bedroom for a well needed night’s sleep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn snapped her fingers in front of his face, “Oi! Have you gone daft on us again?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What? No,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. A yawn was building up in his throat, and he was determined to stop it. He clamped his jaw down tight, and Deryn raised a single eyebrow at him, a talent he could never seem to master, and clapped him on the shoulder.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’re almost done, your princeliness. Just hang in for a squick more, aye?” Deryn took a step closer to him, taking hold of his hand under the high table just out of sight of Count Volger and Dr. Barlow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dylan is right. We must only finish part three of the plan before the evening is over,” Dr. Barlow said.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The evening is over,” Bovril repeated. “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mr.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Sharp.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn shook her head and sighed, pulling the creature onto her arm. “What is part three, exactly?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek blinked a few times to stay focused as Dr. Barlow spoke. “It is quite simple, of course. In simplicity, we must fortify the...” she trailed off as Alek and Bovril started laughing maniacally. “What on </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">earth</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is so funny, Aleksandar?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between his cackling, Alek managed to choke out, “It’s the--that Volger--he--</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">fortified!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn was staring at him, opened mouthed, Dr. Barlow had her lips in a surprised “o” shape, and the count rolled his eyes, remembering that absurd moment on the eve of the new year when he had been quite fortified, as he had called it. Alek continued to laugh, clutching at his sides, not entirely sure why exhaustion made everything so </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">funny.</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It would seem,” Volger began to roll up a map, “that we are quite finished. Until tomorrow, then?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn nodded vigorously and towed Alek away from the table, muttering about barking daft princes the whole way to their rooms. Quite daft indeed, he thought, but at least Deryn’s hand was warm in his and he was done thinking about maps and plans for the night.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He had more important things to think about at the moment.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A/N: You may not have understood the reference if you haven’t read The Bonus Chapter as many times as I have. A little background would suffice, I assume, so for you have have a small portion of The Bonus Chapter, written and owned entirely by Scott Westerfeld, to explain a little better, “‘...Given that I am about to throw myself into a party full of boffins and secret agents, I would not call myself drunk—merely fortified.’” -Count Volger. Make sense now? You can probably now understand why I break out into insane fangirl giggles when they speak of ‘fortification’ on the show Downton Abbey, or, much worse, when I see milk for kids that is specially ‘fortified’ (with vitamins and such, of course, but that hardly seems important.), or when I feel I have to write a somewhat canonical drabble about it. Hope you enjoyed!</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Moving on...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh, no. Not here! Not </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">now!</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn looked around the small dining room, the one that she’d gotten used to since returning to London, just to avoid the eyes of the boy on one knee in front of her. She was sure that she’d turned positively scarlet with embarrassment, but one small glance at Alek told her that there was no way she was redder than him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Deryn Artemis Sharp,” he stuttered, “Y-you are the love of my life. It doesn’t matter how young we are, or how old, but you will always be.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn blinked and said, “Alek, I’ve only known you for--” she quickly calculated in her head “--seven months!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Really? Because it feels like I’ve known you my whole life. Everything before I met you--that wasn’t </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">living</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, Deryn. My life began the day I found you on that glacier, and lord knows I want to keep living this life. I look at you, and the world becomes infinitely better--Deryn, I look at you, and there’s no where else I need to be. It’s where I </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">belong.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">” He paused, searching her eyes. Blisters, but his were beautiful. They were shining, and he had that faraway look in them, but now they had an immeasurable amount of intensity, too. Deryn had never seen him like this, and it almost scared her. “I’m not asking you to marry me right now, Deryn.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then what are you barking asking?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m asking you to accept my promise. With this ring, I promise you that I’ll always love you and only you. By accepting, you promise the same to me. Please, Deryn. I need you more than anything.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, Alek--” her eyes were swimming with tears. “I--I love you, you barking daft prince.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“So--?” Alek’s eyes were wide, waiting.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes. Yes, I promise,” she whispered.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He barely had time to slip the ring on her finger before they were kissing, and his lips tasted of salty tears and promises.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And Finally...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Author’s Note: Okay, you all will certainly be </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">very</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> confused if you read this without taking a peek at Mr. Westerfeld’s April Fool’s Day prank on his readers first. You can find it at: “http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/2011/04/goliath-reveal-2/”. The wonderful idea arose on the Blog that someone should write a fanfic about it, and so.... this happened. I hope you enjoy!</span></i></b></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This was probably the worst day of Deryn’s entire life.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She’d always imagined that her wedding day would be the best, but, of course, in her child’s daydreams she’d been marrying the dashing boy, not--well, being him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her secret was in danger of being discovered, and Lilit had offered to help. She’d reassured Deryn that Dylan getting married would dispel any doubt as to her--his--gender. It was all a barking mess, really, and she wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ready to go, Dylan?” Lilit popped in the doorway just as Deryn was pulling on her boots.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Isn’t there some rule that says I shouldn’t be seeing you in your dress before you walk down the aisle?” Deryn asked defeatedly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lilit sighed. “Isn’t there some rule that says I can’t marry a girl?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Bu--” Deryn sputtered, pulling Lilit into the room and darting a glance down the hallway to make sure no one had heard. “That’s the point, you ninny!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Honestly, Mr. Sharp, is the really the way to treat your bride? We shall </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">have</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to work on that,” she said drily, and left to find her procession of bridesmaids.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn didn’t even know anyone in the wedding party aside from Bovril, who was serving as the ring bearer. Of course she couldn’t invite her own family, and when she’d asked Alek to be her best man, he’d refused, looking extremely hurt. She had thought he would understand, now that he knew her secret, but he hadn’t spoken to her since, and that had been nearly a month now. Her loneliness among all these Ottomans was terrible.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Count Volger and Dr. Barlow would both be there, and Klopp, Hoffman, and Bauer, all in the audience. The only one of them that knew was Count Volger, and as she stepped to take her place on the altar, she could feel his cool, disapproving glare. Barking Clankers.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The organ began to play, and Deryn tried not to break down into furious sobs at her situation while all the people marched down the aisle. She had to pretend to be happy and forced herself to break into a large smile when Lilit strode in. The girl looked radiant in her dress, and her acting was flawless. She had the air of a woman in love, like she could barely keep from running to the altar. She gave Deryn a reassuring nod, taking her place beside her groom.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The preacher began his long speech, droning on about marriage, and Deryn’s stomach twisted into a million knots, her legs shaking and turning to jelly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just as Deryn was about to protest that she couldn’t do this, the far wall of the chapel splintered and exploded inward. From the space that had been panels of carefully painted wood and stained glass and a door, a giant metal stormwalker stumbled in. Squinting through the dust, Deryn could just make out the form of someone piloting the thing, viewport completely open. He looked oddly familiar...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek!</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As the dust cleared, she saw his face. It was pale, pulled into a tight grimace. He held a pistol and a sword, and he was yelling. It took a moment before Deryn could make out his words.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Deryn! Wake up you </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dummkopf!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> You’ve already slept in past breakfast!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What?!” Deryn pulled open her eyes to see Alek’s eyes alight with amusement, his dark red hair a tumbled mess because he hadn’t combed it yet. “I missed </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">breakfast?</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” he shrugged, “but I brought you some.” Alek held out a biscuit slathered with jam, and pointed to a mug of coffee waiting on the bedside table. “What in blazes were you dreaming about? You looked like were having a nightmare.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was only then that she saw the cleverly hidden worry in his brow.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She smiled at him brightly. “You don’t barking want to know,” she said, pulling back her covers and shoving him toward the door, “Get out of here, you barking daft prince. I have to get ready, and so do you!”</span><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“But the ceremony isn’t for another three hours!” he complained.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to need every second of it if you want to look like a proper groom.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I may need a few more if I want to look as good as my bride,” he replied sweetly and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before retreating out of her reach. Deryn could feel the blood rushing to her face.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, you will,” she agreed half heartedly and leaned forward, kissing him on the lips long and hard. He already looked perfect, even with the tousled hair and wrinkled pajamas. She shivered and her stomach did a flip at what he would look like waiting for her at the end of the aisle. “But you did have time for that. Besides, you may just move a little faster now and not be late. Wouldn’t want you barging in on a walker...”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Pardon me?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Nevermind. Now go already!” She shut the door behind him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I love you, Deryn,” Alek whispered through the door. A broad grin stretched across Deryn’s face. She didn’t think she’d ever quite get used to hearing those words from him, no matter how many times he said them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I love you, too, Alek.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe this really would be the best day of her life.</span></span></div></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-58789811568514089402012-04-04T19:45:00.000-07:002012-04-04T19:45:42.327-07:00Chapter 23!This is the long awaited chapter 23. I sincerely hope it doesn't disappoint. A quick lesson on the origin of "Sincere": It actually means "Without wax"--stemming from in ancient times when they made marble statues. Sometimes there would be flaws, and those would be filled with wax, but when they got out into the sun... melted wax. So "sincere" statues were true ones that had no wax. Just remember, the next time you sign your letters with, "Sincerely, me." you're saying your letter has no wax. Well, more that what you've stated above is genuine or real, but that's beside the point.<br />
But I'm just keeping you from the action here. Without further ado...<br />
Disclaimer: I don't own this. Really, we've been over this before.<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That boy was looking at him. The one that was on the train. What was his name, again?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh. Tad.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn was making sure to stay out of his line of sight, but it was hardly necessary. Tad’s eyes were glued on Singe because he thought the boy was Dylan. As it was, Singe didn’t think Tad would recognize her given that he thought she was a girl, when she was pretending to be a boy and--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe shook his head. It was all so barking confusing with that girl. As long as he could keep the boy from realizing he wasn’t Dylan until they could sort this all out, it would be fine. He gave Deryn a nod to show he understood the situation. She sighed in relief and set back to taking care of the unconscious girl. The pretty one from the cellar.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What are you looking at?” Singe said gruffly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tad raised an eyebrow. “You.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Like the uniform? It’s great out here in the cold mountain weather. You should really get yourself one of these.” He couldn’t help but taunt the boy a little. He was wearing only a pair of trousers, a shirt and thin jacket, and boots, and he kept shivering.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I would, but my wrists are tied,” he managed, teeth chattering. His lips were turning blue.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Groaning inwardly as the sympathetic part of himself took over, Singe pulled his outer layer off and draped it over Tad’s shoulders. He hissed as the frigid mountain air sliced through his middy’s uniform.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Compromise, you see? You have a coat, but your wrists are still tied. I’m happy, your happy.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I can hardly say I’m happy.” He rolled his eyes. “But thank you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Can’t have my prisoner getting frostbite, can I?” Singe patted him on the shoulder a little too hard, and Tad nearly fell over. “Don’t you worry, though. It’s perfectly warm on the ship. The heat from the gut is quite comfortable.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He turned away to address his assembled men as the Clanker cringed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“That’s all of us, aye? Count off.” He waited patiently as his men numbered themselves off to sixteen and ignored Tad’s comment about not knowing Darwinists could count so well. Pulling out his semaphore flags, he sent the ready signal to the bridge. He could almost see the splotch of the captain’s head nod.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The scent of vented hydrogen filled the air and the ship dropped quickly. A ladder dropped from the cargo hatch when the beastie was ten yards above the ground, and Singe watched as the airmen climbed up with various found things. One of the bigger men carried the Clanker girl on his shoulder, and Singe clipped himself to Tad’s belt and untied his hands.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once everyone was up the ladder, the ship rapidly spilled ballast and they shot upward. Now it was time to inventory their findings.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What’ve we got, lads?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A midshipman!” Levi cried gleefully, and was rewarded by many slaps on the back, even a hug. He turned pale and grimaced, though Singe wasn’t quite sure why.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Two Clankers, obviously. This here is Thaddeus Welker. Say hello, Tad,” Singe said, and continued, not waiting for a reply. He gestured to the girl. “I’m not sure who this lass is, though. Anything else?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’ve got a funny looking box and a lump of mechanical parts,” a man offered, and Singe nodded, only mildly intrigued. That could be expected of any Clanker hideout. As for the box, it probably only caught the man’s attention because he’d seen the seal in Constantinople, or so Deryn had explained. He’d personally never seen it before, but that was mostly because he’d spent almost the whole trip inside the air beast, much less where he could see the official symbol of the sultan.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The head rigger stepped in and took over Singe’s job, and he gratefully took leave to his room after seeing that the prisoners made it safely to the brig. He promised to bring Tad breakfast with a sarcastic air kiss. The girl still hadn’t woken up.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The moment his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It wasn’t very hard to carry two breakfast trays, especially since they had barely any food on them. With the whole ship still on half-rations, the prisoners wouldn’t be eating any better.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe hesitated a moment before unlocking the door to the girl’s cell. It wasn’t unpleasant down here in the brig, but it certainly wasn’t the best conditions. He stared down at one of the trays he was carrying sullenly; there was a stale biscuit and a mug of old coffee, which was warm, at least. Sighing, Singe pulled the few potatoes he’d saved and wrapped in a napkin from his own breakfast earlier and placed them on the one for the girl.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The door opened with a click that hardly echoed in the small room. In the corner, a slight form was huddled, knees folded in on herself, holding them tightly; like a hug, Singe thought. When she looked up, he was caught by the greenness of her eyes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You’re meal,” he said curtly. The girl nodded dumbly but didn’t say a word. “Do you speak English?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes. Some.” Her voice was distracted, eyes fixed hungrily on the tray he held. Quickly he handed it to her and stood silently as she swallowed the biscuit in three bites, the potatoes in two, and washed it down with the coffee. She let out a deep breath when she was done and leaned her head against the wall. “Thank you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m just doing my job.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“For the potatoes,” the girl pursed her lips and inclined her head, making the grimy blond hair fall into her face. She must have seen the other tray, the one for Tad, that had none. She certainly didn’t miss much, did she?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly. In the moment it took her to process the words, she let her long legs stretch on the cot, which pulled the hem of her trousers up well past her ankles. He would be embarrassed about seeing this, but she had such an effortless grace that he didn’t think to look away.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I have two names,” she said slowly, “I am Rachel. My men call me Ronnie when we work. You understand?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Y-yes.” He stuttered. “I am--er--Eugene.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next. Rachel extended a calloused hand toward him. “I am pleased to meet you, Eugene.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He took her hand gently and was surprised by the firmness of her shake. “The pleasure is mine, Rachel.” She let go of his hand and folded her legs up again, leaving a space next to her on the small cot.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You sit? You are tired,”Rachel offered, patting the spot next to her. Singe was, in fact, very tired from all that had happened. He sat gingerly on the edge, careful to leave as much space as possible between them. Utterly aware of both her closeness and the way she was staring at him, he decided his boots were extremely interesting. She’s a Clanker, he reminded himself. The enemy.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But then why was he so drawn to her?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“So...” Singe picked at his fingers.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You want to ask a question?” She reached over and touched his shoulder lightly, and Singe had stop himself before he took hold of her hand.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes, I do,” he admitted. There was a silence as he tried to figure out how to phrase his words.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why... why do you...”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why do I work with the men?” Singe nodded, and she shrugged. “Because it is what I like to do. I always have liked machines. My father paid the commander to take me up and work. The men I work with... they call me Ronnie so they forget I am a girl. It is not customary for a girl to work like I do.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I understand. I know someone who’s a lot like you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Who?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Uh--well, that’s hard to explain. Look, I won’t be back until tomorrow, with breakfast. They may come and question you, to get information on what you were doing in the mountains.” </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Because she’s a Clanker,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> he didn’t say, but made sure he reinforced the fact to himself. “Please, tell them what they want to know.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rachel pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “You should go. Thaddeus still needs his food, yes?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He stood stiffly and walked to the door, not looking back even though he could feel Rachel’s eyes on him. She’s a Clanker. He couldn’t like her.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But that hadn’t stopped Deryn, had it?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Setting his jaw, he pushed the door open and slipped into Tad’s cell, lit only by a small worm lamp. The only furnishing was a fabricated wood cot covered with a few blankets and a hard pillow, just like Rachel’s--no, it would be better to think of her as Ronnie--cell. The boy was laying on top of it all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I come with breakfast, your countship,” Singe said sarcastically to hide the knot in his chest. Tad sad up upon his arrival.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Not much of a breakfast,” he replied, wrinkling his nose at the stale biscuit and mug of warm, bitter coffee. “And I’m not a count. Yet. You seem well rested, Mr. Newkirk.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“As much as I can be. But I can’t stay and chat. Fraternizing with the enemy isn’t part of my duties.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tad leaned against the wall, a smug grin stretching across his mouth. “Oh, I think you can stay and chat for as long as I want you to.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Excuse me?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You see, Mr. Newkirk, I have this all figured out.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His spine was prickling. “You have what figured out?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“All of it. You might want to seal that door.” Singe did, but he kept his eyes on the Clanker boy the whole time. He’d already made the mistake of responding to Newkirk when he was supposed to be Dylan, and he wasn’t about to make another.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It wasn’t hard, really. Once I realized that you weren’t Dylan, the pieces just clicked into place. To think, the British Air Service would be so shamed! A girl...”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Freezing in place, hands clamped tight on his jacket, Singe turned to Tad. “What did you just say?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A girl in the British Air Service. They’ll be very discredited when the world finds that out. But I could be persuaded to keep my quiet, at a price.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, I’ll persuade you, alright,” he growled, pulling out his rigging knife. “Breathe one word about Deryn and I’ll--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Deryn? So that’s her real name?” Tad asked coolly, then muttered to himself: “But which one?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe blinked. Did Tad think that Deryn had more than one real name, or...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ah, I’d suppose that’s Dylan’s name, then? You know, it was very clever of--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Stop. What do you know? Tell me from the beginning.” Singe took a leveling breath and set his jaw.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“But that would be absolutely no fun. No, I’ll leave you guessing.” He shrugged, turning to his breakfast. “You can go now.”</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-41242668200545159692012-03-14T19:01:00.000-07:002012-03-14T19:01:15.125-07:00For you I have chapter 22.Hahaha. I made a rhyme. Tada!<br />
Disclaimer: I'm not Scott Westerfeld and therefore own nothing. Too bad.<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They floated down to the snow like angels. Gruesome, godless angels, even Deryn had to admit. The skata didn’t look anything like skunks, but more like Bovril-sized monkeys with wings. Twelve had been deployed at the outskirts of the compound, and as Deryn watched through her field glasses they deftly broke locks and forced doors, briefly entering and then leaving for a new building to spray.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some minutes later, men rushed out the doors, faces covered with sleeves and the odd mask, spreading in all directions. Perfectly according to plan.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn couldn’t watch as the bomb bay doors opened.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The floor of the cargo bay kicked beneath her, sending the slightest jolt of pain zinging through her knee. Deryn ignored it, though, because she there wasn’t time to think about that. She looked sidelong Newkirk, who seemed decidedly unsteady about the whole situation.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn reckoned she wouldn’t be so keen on going back into the place, either, if she were the poor boy. It probably brought back the memories for him like seeing fire did with Deryn.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The floor jolted again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Blisters, how many are they going to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">drop?</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">” Deryn muttered, still unable to look below her. She’d get a full enough view when she was on the ground, that was for sure.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Only a few more,” Newkirk grimaced, his face a pale shade of green. He bit his lip and called out to the assembled men. “Get ready, lads! We’ll keelhaul drop five minutes after the last one’s dropped, aye?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye!” replied sixteen airmen.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finally the explosions subsided and Deryn dared to take a glance at the wreckage below. What had formerly been a firm set of dark buildings was now a smoldering mass. There was smoke drifting lazily around, like it didn’t have anywhere to go without any wind to force it about.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn’s stomach growled viciously, reminding her that only one meal had been served that day. She’d been unconsciously gnawing at her lip for hours, and now it was chewed raw both out of hunger and nerves. She hadn’t been on a real mission since New York, which was only three months back, but it seemed like a long time ago.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ready lads!” Newkirk shouted, adjusting the carabiners in his friction hitch. “Drop ten counts after the man before you and watch below so you don’t run into him!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn took her place beside him and made sure her gloves were on tightly. “Here we go,” she muttered.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Sharp,” the midshipman said. Deryn nodded, and together they jumped out into oblivion.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was then that the battle adrenaline kicked in. The rope was as hot as a teakettle in her gloves, and the air tore through her hair in the fast descent. Her boots hit the ground with wet thud; the snow that had positively covered the area before was slowly melting in the heat. It hit her face in a wave, and it traced a finger down her spine. The ship had set them down at the edge of the wreckage, and straight down Deryn’s line of vision had been the road that separated the ruins of what had been a small cluster of buildings. Several had collapsed under the bombs, but a few were still left standing, charred and wounded. Craters dotted the landscape. There was no way a person could have survived out here. Deryn just hoped she didn’t have to see what was left.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Fan out in pairs!” Newkirk bellowed. “Search for survivors and anything that looks important! Meet back at this spot in twenty minutes!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn fell into step beside him. Newkirk was walking fast, barely pausing as he leapt over debris and skirted smoking holes. He knew exactly where he was going.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were silent until Newkirk drew to a stop in front of a mostly intact building.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Sharp,” he began quietly. “I have something to tell you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What is it, Mr. Newkirk?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“They were making something here. It was small, and familiar, almost like a beastie made out of metal, like those ones they had Constantinople, aye? I only saw blue prints, and all those barking Clanker words confuse me, but the picture was clear enough. It was in this building,” he said, and pointed an accusing finger at the door. “I need to see if it’s true. If there’s anything left.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn nodded slowly. She stood at the ready to jump anyone that would come out of the door as Newkirk kicked it open. It cracked against the wall inside, causing part of the ceiling to crumble away on the far side of the wall. The single window was shattered. Rubble rained down on the two of them when they stepped inside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Step lightly,” Deryn warned. Against the wall on their right were stacks of crates, all emblazoned with a familiar seal...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The old sultan. That’s who’s symbol it was. He’d been kidnapped by the Kizlar Agha on the night of the revolution, and was now hiding safely somewhere, probably eating the strange yogurt the Ottomans were so fond of. “That’s just a wee bit strange,” she mused suspiciously.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“There not here!” He cried, clenching his fists. Just as he was about to punch one of the crates, he stopped. “What’s this?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the corner, beside an open cage, was a steel hatch. It was barely wider than Newkirk, just big enough to fit a person through. Deryn’s heart sped up. If someone was down there, they could have easily been sheltered from the bombs. She mouthed </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">be ready</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to Newkirk and leaned down to open it. He lowered into a crouch, knife clenched tightly in his hand. Deryn reached for hers at the same time she flung open the hatch, and then she hurtled back.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nothing happened.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn took a cautious step forward, peering into the vault. It was dark, and she could only make out a single box along the wall. Then it moved. Two arms uncurled from it, and suddenly a match was lit, and then a candle.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Levi!” Newkirk shouted, and plunged into to the cellar, ignoring the ladder and jumping. “You’re alive!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Don’t!” Deryn cried, seeing the other person lying in wait just under the ladder too late. He rose from behind Newkirk and was about to hit him on the head with a wrench as Deryn tackled him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With a high pitched, “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oomph!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">” he went down. Deryn wrestled the wrench from him, and pinned him down. He spit something out of his mouth--was that...</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">hair?</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Long and blond, it wreathed his face in a tangled mass.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Newkirk, if you would kindly bring over the candle,” she panted. There was a brief shuffling as Levi handed the candle to Newkirk, and then the light cast over the enemy’s face.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn snorted. The person, though her face was contorted in rage and terror, was definitely a girl’s. She shifted her weight but kept the girl restrained. “Well. What do you suppose we do now?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Newkirk was looking hard at the girl, as if he were quite perplexed about something. “Take her prisoner,” he said simply.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Du neht mich nich</span></i><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">!”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> she screamed, and fought against Deryn with renewed force. Deryn gritted her teeth and pushed her back down onto the ground.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Newkirk, come hold her arms, will you?” Deryn asked.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You mean--I can’t! She’s a girl!” he cried indignantly, and Deryn had to choke back a laugh. He was the only person in the room who wasn’t a girl.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Just do it. She won’t come with us willingly, so we’ll have to do this the hard way.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Don’t--don’t hurt her--” Levi called gruffly. Or, Lauren, Deryn supposed. Why would she be worried for this girl’s safety? Wasn’t she Lauren’s captor?</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or, were they prisoners together?</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn shook her head, and said in German, “Who are you?”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why should I tell you?” She spat, and kicked her feet uselessly. Newkirk took hold of her arms for Deryn.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Because if you don’t I’ll knock your lights out,” Deryn deadpanned. The candle light was throwing wild shadows across the girl’s face.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The girl’s eyes widened only fractionally, masterfully hiding her surprise. “You wouldn’t dare hurt a girl!”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You see,” Deryn sighed, said “that’s where you’re wrong.” and punched her, hard, grimacing as her head smacked on the dirt floor. “Sorry,” she whispered, “but that felt way too barking good.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Was that entirely necessary?” Lauren croaked.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What, you have a fancy for her?” Newkirk bumped her on the shoulder after he pulled her to her feet.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No!” she sputtered, paling. “I--I mean, so what if I do, Mr. Newkirk?”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn shook her head. “We haven’t got time for this!” she cried, and hefted the unconscious girl across her shoulder. “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oof.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’ll carry her,” Singe offered, holding out his arms. Deryn gladly obliged, and he took her lightly, making sure her head rested on his shoulder.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I can’t believe you came.” Lauren shook her head, incredulous, but then blinked and cleared her throat. “Er--thanks, guys.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Anytime, Mr. Wilson,” Deryn said with a smile, “I’ll admit, it’s quite an entertaining adventure, but I’ve had better.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Who are you, again?” Lauren asked when they’d climbed out of the cellar. Newkirk handed the girl up and then climbed out himself. She really was surprisingly light, but more than Deryn could carry now that she’d spent so long out of the ratlines.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn wiped her hands on her trousers and stuck out a hand. “Dylan Sharp at your service, employee of His Majesty’s Zoological Society of London, former midshipman aboard His Majesty’s Airship </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leviathan</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Newkirk barked a laugh, “I liked you other title better, Dylan.”</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye, it was loads easier to say,” she replied with a smile. But, even though it was dead long, it was right for her; once all Deryn had needed was to fly, but now that didn’t seem so important, like she had what she needed, and that was something else--and she realized, with a shock, that that thing was Alek. The emptiness that had nestled in her gut was filling now that they were friends again.</span></span></div><div style="color: #333233; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn kept smiling, even as they weaved through the wreckage once more, back to where they’d started. A small group of men had come back already, but one of them wasn’t wearing a flight suit. He was dusty and hunched in mechanic's slops, but even so, a spark of recognition flashed through her attic.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn had to look twice to make sure she’d seen him right, and then a third time because she didn’t believe what she was seeing. Was the boy following her everywhere? Deryn wasn’t sure whether to punch him square in the mouth and knock him out before he recognized her, or merely avoid him as much as possible.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She sighed. Although she really wanted to punch him, Deryn didn’t want to mess up the pretty face of Thaddeus Welker.</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-7037448945385548782012-02-29T09:30:00.002-08:002012-02-29T09:30:40.414-08:00Chapter 21!!!!I'm not going to lie. I love this chapter. And it's super long, too. You're welcome.<br />
Disclaimer: I own none of this, no matter how much I wish I did.<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For no apparent reason, the ship had started moving again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not the ship itself, of course, but the people on it. After retiring to his stateroom the night before, Alek had been determined to stay awake until Deryn returned. But exhaustion had taken over, and he fell asleep with his boots still on.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, as Alek shook the sleep from his eyes and stepped into the corridor, a team of riggers stumbled past and nearly knocked him from his feet. They apologized to him tiredly, envy coloring their expressions. In his surprise, Alek forgot to ask what they were doing down in the gondola. Normally riggers spent their time topside in the ratlines.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He made his way toward the bow of the ship, watching out for any more crewmen on his way. A slight snuffling noise caught his attention, and he turned to find the lady boffin just behind, led by Tazza. It made him start a bit to see Dr. Barlow walking Tazza herself.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The thylacine whined in greeting, and Alek reached down to pet his head absently. His attention was caught by the lady boffin who, despite looking as refined as ever, seemed disheveled somehow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dr. Barlow, what is going on?” He asked.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">isn’t</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> going on would be a more appropriate question, I’m sure.” She sighed. “Dr. Horn has come up with a solution to our problem. He’s been in a flurry since last evening, overcome by an epiphany. The man does not understand the concept of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">patience</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">sleep.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A solution?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” Dr. Barlow paused, letting the lorises climb to the ceiling and hang there chattering for a moment before continuing to speak. “Your suggestion was quite inspiring, it would seem--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“My </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">what?</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">” Alek hardly believed he could have been helpful, much less inspiring. The Darwinists still thought of him as a waste of hydrogen sometimes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“--As I was trying to say, Aleksandar, your suggestion to use something we already have in a different way proved to be advantageous. Do you remember Dr. Horn’s mention of a skata?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek bit his lip. “Yes. That was the skunk, wasn’t it? It guides the...gorgon.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“To put it simply. With the help of a perspicacious friend, we’re back on track. The crew has been working all night to prepare, and we’ll be departing for the mountains within the hour.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Excuse me, Ma’am, but prepare for </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">what?</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> What even is the new plan, exactly?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ship was still in a commotion around them as the lady boffin began to explain what was happening. Alek hissed as an airman ran into his shoulder, which was still far from healed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Strange, he noticed, how none of them seemed to run into Dr. Barlow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Have you ever smelled a skunk, Aleksandar?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Certainly not.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, in any case, it is not pleasant. While many people have had the experience of encountering a natural skunk, very few have ever met a skata, which has a very different scent. It is somewhat akin to that of poisonous gas, although a scarcely known fact is that it is quite harmless. A hidden base in the mountains would undoubtedly be unaware of that.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She raised her eyebrows, waiting for Alek to understand. He shook his head, and the lady boffin sighed. “Poisonous gas is often used on the battlefield, and surely Clankers would know what it smells like, and after so long in the cold mountains they would be... jumpy, especially after our reconnaissance mission alerted them of us.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek held up a hand. “What are you implying, Doctor? That we trick the Clankers into believing we have poisonous gas at our disposal?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Partly,” the lady boffin smiled grimly, “The buildings in the complex are very sturdy, from what Mr. Newkirk has told us, and most likely resistant to aerial bombs. They are not, however, gas-proof. We will send the skata down to their base first, and will--ah--smoke out the rat, you could say. The people will escape the confined buildings to look for fresh, gas free air, and that is when we bomb them.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek took a step back, tripping over his own feet. To bomb a group of men while they were under cover was one thing, but to lure them out, defenseless, and then drop bombs was another entirely. It was downright </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">cruel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. He tried to speak, but no words would come out of his throat. He was too stunned.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Once that is done, several teams of men will collect evidence on the ground. The Admiralty requests it.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I--I don’t know what to say, Dr. Barlow.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“A rare occurrence,” she sighed. “I know it is a lot to take in, Mr. Hohenberg.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He blinked a few times, staring at his boots. “Wh-what does Dylan think?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tazza nuzzled the lady boffin’s hand as she spoke, “Dylan seems fine with the idea. He has been working with the crew all night, and even requested to be part of the ground crew. He’s in the cargo bay as we speak.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The ground crew? Does--he--realize how dangerous that is?” Alek clenched and unclenched his fists in surprise.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It will hardly be dangerous.” Dr. Barlow held his gaze. It was silent for a moment but for the lorises blabbering.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek clenched his jaw, nodding. “Certainly, Dr. Barlow. Well, good day, then. I suppose I’ll see you later.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Good day, Aleksandar.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He could feel Dr. Barlow’s eyes on him as he walked down the corridor, but he didn’t care. Recalling the rough memories of the airship’s layout, Alek made his way to the cargo bay, footsteps echoing solemnly in the thin hallways. He needed to find Deryn, talk her out of this. It was insane, and she was going to...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The cargo bay was more crowded than he’d ever seen it. He craned his neck and stood on his toes to try and get a glimpse of her blond head over the masses of crewmen. Why must all British be so </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tall</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">? he thought. Shaking his head, Alek gave up trying to see her and began to push his way through the crowd, stopping only when he saw a most horrific creature; a turtle of some sort, but it was massive and grotesque.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pulling his eyes away from the beast, Alek finally saw her, untying knots on the far side of the turtle. He rushed around the thing, careful to avoid its eyes. Bovril climbed off of his shoulder and onto its head, posing there with it’s head high and arms at it’s sides.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dylan,” he hissed, “could you spare a moment please?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What? I’m kind of busy, Alek, and I haven’t got a barking wink of sleep all night. So no, I don’t think I can spare a moment.” She hunched back over untying the knots that held numerous crates to one of the turtle’s backs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dylan.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">” She ignored him. Trying a different tactic, he turned to the man who seemed to be in charge and said, “Dr. Barlow needs to speak with Dylan.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why didn’t she just send a message lizard?” the man asked in a thick Scottish accent.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m quite certain I have no idea,” he shrugged. “But I find it a good idea to not question the lady boffin.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Alright. Have ‘im back soon, then. We’ve got lots of work still to do.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn glowered, but followed him anyway. When they happened upon an empty hallway, Alek pulled her into it quickly. Every few moments, she glanced about to make sure no one was watching them. “Deryn,” Alek began, to get her attention.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What?” She spat.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I broke my promise. I--I’ve been keeping a secret. From you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn raised her eyebrows and gave him a disapproving look, like she’d known this. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“It’s just--Deryn, I can’t be away from you like this. I can’t function without you, not anymore.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You seemed to be doing just fine to me,” she said, not meeting his eyes. He studied her intently for a moment, noticing the dark circles around her eyes, the way they were rimmed with red. She stood hunched, almost, like she’d just been punched in the stomach but was trying to look unhurt. She looked so torn and empty. In that instant, there was nothing more Alek wanted to do than pull her in close and whisper to her that it was all going to be okay. He wanted to tell her everything that words couldn’t say, and he just wanted her to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">look at him.</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“God’s wounds, Deryn!” It came out almost as a shout, and she jumped, eyes wide.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You can’t say that so--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Will you listen to me? Deryn, I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry for everything! I’m sorry that I tried to show you how much I love you and it turned out wrong! I’m sorry that it’s my fault all this happened and I’m sorry you blame me for it! I’m sorry that I love you and that you’re all I can think about and every moment I know that you’re mad at me I can hardly breathe! Deryn, I’m sorry you’re hurt, but please </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">let me heal you!</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She was frozen in place, her mouth in surprised “o”. The only movement of hers Alek could see was the shaking of her hands. Deryn blinked. Once, twice, three times. “Did you really just say that?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Say what?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A slow, reluctant smile had crept onto her face. “You love me.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek braced himself against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I do.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her hands dropped and she leaned next to Alek on the wall, dumbstruck. She bit her lip. “Can I punch you right now?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“If that’s what it takes for you to forgive me,” he said earnestly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Blisters, Alek! I was only joking! You’re so--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Serious? I am. Providence guided me to you, but I won’t let it take you away. The world shattered when my parents died, but with you it fits together again.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Barking daft princes,” she muttered.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m not a prince anymore,” he mused, “Just a plain boy, common as dirt.” He kicked the floor for emphasis. “I just hope that someone as great as you would find me worthy.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’m as common as dirt, too.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No, you’re not,” Alek said, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “You’re the great Deryn Sharp, first a woman in the British Air Service who aided a revolution, and now a member of the highly prestigious London Zoological Society. There is no one in the world like you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Well, then, there’s no one like you, either!” She pushed off the wall and faced him, listing off points on her fingers. “You were a prince, first off. You know six languages, are a Clanker turned Darwinist, and--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She didn’t get to finish, because Alek cut her off with a kiss. It was short and panicked, the terror of discovery racing through their veins. He pulled back almost as quickly as his lips met hers and stared her straight in the eyes. “Then we seem like a perfect match.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Deryn, you can’t be part of the ground crew.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She rolled her eyes and took a step back from him. “And why not?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Because--it’s dangerous! You could be hurt!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Alek, what about it is dangerous? All the Clankers will be dead or wounded, and my job is just to get evidence and get out!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He fumbled for a counter response, but none came to mind. “Just--please be careful, Deryn. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’ll be fine, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dummkopf.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do. The sooner I get done, the more sleep I get before we make it to the mountains, aye?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes. I’ll see you soon, Dylan.”</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-31294233230350165862012-02-25T16:12:00.001-08:002012-02-26T17:39:10.643-08:00The Big Two-Oh! (That's 20, by the way)Yes, it's true. Chapter 20 has arrived. *bows* your welcome. Oh, and make sure to read the Ronnie-Newkirk teaser if you haven't already. Just scroll down a bit and you'll find it. But enough of all this! It is time for the real stuff...<br />
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, no matter how sad this makes me. :,-( <--That means very sad.<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oi! To the right a bit!” Max yelled, and Deryn and the other airman helping her load up the crate shuffled a few paces, setting the box down once they got a nod from Max. “Good. Matthews, help Rogers get his box right on top of that one. Sharp, help me with this one.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye,” Deryn said, “On the count of three? One, two, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">three-”</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She stifled a groan as she hefted up the crate, the two of them making their way to the Roth Aerial Battle Turtle.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The thing didn’t look like a turtle, really, but it certainly didn’t look like anything else. It had thick, leathery legs that jutted out the bottom of the beastie, which were currently tied down to keep it from floating away, and a slow moving head with a hard skull and large, wide eyes. The shell was and inch thick around the membrane and, sure enough, made of keratin that was a pale yellow color and ten feet across. It wasn’t quite opaque, so she could just barely see the membrane through it, and it wasn’t fully expanded yet; there was space between the membrane and shell, which made a hollow noise whenever Deryn heaved a box onto it’s back. When it was, she supposed, it would press up against the shell. There was a place to mount a single gun, and not just an air gun either. With the extra protection lent by the shell, it was safe to fire a real gun if you were far enough from the airbeast itself.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It looked unsettlingly like the clockwork bed that the anarchist Nene rode on. For a brief moment, Deryn wondered how Nene was doing, if the revolution had treated her nicely, and who was taking care of her now that Lilit was an ambassador and Zaven was dead.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn rolled her shoulders, shook the thoughts from her head, and set the box down. This was no time to be reminiscing like some poor village sap, she thought, not while they were preparing for...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For what, exactly?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We can’t slow down now, Mr. Sharp,” Max said, snapping her out of thought, “There’s only a few of ‘em left!”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The man was much too jolly for being awake this late at night. “What’s got you in such a good mood, Max?” She asked, having seen him smile even as they were straining to hold the crate.<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He patted the turtle on the head. “This here’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">my </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">turtle,” he said happily. “The can’t take on any more men on account a’ the weight, so I’m going to be piloting her.”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn nodded.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I just hope she and Zipper get along,” he added as an afterthought, wiping his gloves on his flight suit. “It wouldn’t do for them not to.” He smiled mischievously at her, and she found herself grinning back. Leave it to Max to worry if his beasties would like each other, she thought.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You know what we’re here for?” She asked suddenly. “What the plan is?”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he replied brightly. “No, lads! They’ve got to be even or they’ll fall off!” Deryn looked over her shoulder to see another pair of men with a box set crookedly on one of the other three turtles, startled. “But, Mr. Sharp, it’s got to do with whatever we were supposed to be doing before, I’m sure. Just look at all these bombs and tell me it isn’t going to be something big. And I’ll be in the thick of it!” He pumped a fist through the air and knelt to look the Roth Aerial Battle Turtle in the eyes. “So will you, beastie. Let’s just hope that it won’t last long, eh?” He hesitated, a look of apprehension crossing his face. “You need a name now, don’t you? Any suggestions, Mr. Sharp?”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Ah, no, Max,” Deryn shook her head, smiling, and made her way to the last of the crates. Max followed, and she was glad for his help. The boxes were too barking heavy for one wee slip of a lass to carry on her own, and Max’s brute rigger’s strength compensated for it. “Do you at least know what’s in the boxes, then?”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aside from the bombs, no, and only because they’re so obvious All I get to do is load them up and then take them off once we get back up to the ship. It’s all been very </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">secretive.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I think I know why, though. You remember what I told you?”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Aye,” Deryn said. “But Miles can’t be a spy.”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Max cocked an eyebrow. “And why is that, Mr. Sharp?”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn realized her mistake too late. She fumbled for an answer, and finally one came. It was always easier to tell part of the truth than an entire lie. “Because he’s an American, and they’re on our side.”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He scowled. “American? He can’t be. The Service doesn’t let foreigners in. That’s why it’s called the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">British</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Air Service, Mr. Sharp.”<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, aye,” Deryn said, biting her lip. Why would Melissa have lied to her about where she came from? It seemed an odd thing to say, really, but there wasn’t time to think about that now. It was darker here, right under the ship, than out in the moonlight. The only light came from the glow worm lamps strewn about the field, and they cast a ghastly angle on everything, making it all so severe. Even Max’s chipper face look sinister.<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or maybe Deryn was just that tired.<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She yawned long and hard as the men climbed onto the turtles, untying their legs and ascending to the cargo bay. Hopefully a tired midshipman could get a few hours of sleep once all this hurried loading business was done with. Her jaw clamped down on her tongue mid-yawn as she realized she wasn’t a midshipman anymore; Deryn was an agent of the Zoological Society of London now. By all rights she could be asleep in her cabin right now, not fighting to keep her eyes open and lugging about heavy boxes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Somehow, though, Deryn couldn’t imagine herself in her cot, as snuggly as a box of kittens in her blankets. The emptiness still gnawed at her chest, a void she couldn’t possibly fill.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The turtle jolted under her feet and Deryn felt herself reaching for a box to steady herself with. Max rested an elbow on one as he steered the motivator engine on the turtle’s back up toward the cargo bay. The open hatch seemed to be yawning as large as all of them. Deryn sighed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The night was far from over.</span></span></div></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-66118716761889289932012-02-25T10:05:00.000-08:002012-02-25T10:05:31.935-08:00Ronnie-Newkirk teaser!You cannot imagine how happy it makes me to give this to you. And by that, of course, I meat how happy it makes me to imagine you squirming because you have no context, which must be very important to the situation. Or is it? I guess you won't know until I want you to, huh? Hmm. Too bad. *smiles evilly, steeples fingers, and rubs them together. Evilly.*<br />
Let the fun begin!<br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The door opened with a click that hardly echoed in the small room. In the corner, a slight form was huddled, knees folded in on herself, holding them tightly; like a hug, Singe thought. When she looked up, he was caught by the greenness of her eyes in the pale wormlight.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You’re meal,” he said curtly. The girl nodded dumbly. “Do you speak English?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes. Some.” Her voice was distracted, eyes fixed hungrily on the tray he held. Quickly he handed it to her and stood silently as she swallowed the biscuit in three bites, the potatoes in two, and washed it down with the coffee. She let out a deep breath when she was done and leaned her head against the wall. “Thank you.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> “I’m just doing my job.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“For the potatoes,” the girl pursed her lips and inclined her head, making the grimy blond hair fall across her face. She didn’t miss much, did she?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly. In the moment it took her to process the words, she let her long legs stretch on the cot, which pulled the hem of her trousers up well past her ankles. He would be embarrassed about seeing this, but she had such an effortless grace that he didn’t think to look away.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I have two names,” she said slowly in careful English, “I am Rachel. My men call me Ronnie when we work. You understand?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Y-yes.” He stuttered. “I am--er--Eugene.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next. Rachel extended a calloused hand toward him. “I am pleased to meet you, Eugene.”</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-84507969212558822912012-02-17T05:20:00.000-08:002012-02-17T05:20:23.635-08:00Dadadum! Chapter 19!Here is chapter 19 in all of it's not-even-a-page-and-a-half glory. Sorry about that, by the way. Anyways, enjoy what's there! Oh, and you may want to refresh yourself from what happens at the end of 18, because this starts RIGHT after it. No joke. Same conversation.<br />
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. Sadly. Scott Westerfeld does.<br />
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<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This was perhaps the most awkward silence that Singe had ever witnessed. “I--I’m not wearing a tie,” he said to Alek, not able to look at embarrassment that colored the boy’s cheeks.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh, well then.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Deryn didn’t bother to say hello to Alek. “I’m not important enough to include in your meetings, then? That’s just barking </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">lovely</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,” she snorted. “I’ll see you at mess, Mr. Newkirk.” Deryn turned harshly on her heel and walked back in the way they came.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek watched longingly after her, his mouth slightly open. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to Singe and ambled slowly down the hallway, in the direction opposite Deryn.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not sure what to do, Singe stood alone in the corridor, lost in thought. The world seemed to be falling apart around him, and Singe was stuck in the middle. He’d just got Dylan and Alek back, his closest friends, and now it was all turned upside down because Dylan was a girl, and she and Alek were </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">something</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">... or had been something. They were avoiding each other because Alek thought Jaspert’s death was his fault, and Deryn was letting him believe it. Maybe she believed it, too. If only Singe could tell her that it had been an act of love, and that it wasn’t Alek’s fault that the barking stupid Clankers had gone and ruined it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It really was all their fault. They were losing the war, and they weren’t about to do it quietly. From what Singe could tell, they were going to cause the Darwinists as much pain as they could, and that included ruining the British Air Service. It shook England to its core, and even the ships that hadn’t been attacked were jumpy and unstable, waiting until it was their turn to be a helpless target.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe could even hear the yelling in the bridge, behind the closed door.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But the yelling sounded... excited. He was contemplating whether or not to press his ear to the fabricated wood of the door when a man stormed out. He had a dark gray mustache that curled up at the ends like a smug grin, and at the moment it was jumping wildly on the man’s face as he shouted some words in French. He started when he saw Singe standing against the wall, bewildered.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Hello, sir,” Singe said, and clicked his heels. “If I may ask, sir, what’s going on?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The man could hardly stand still; he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, a broad grin pasted crookedly on his face. When he looked at Singe, he took him by the shoulders and told him, “As you English say: We are back in business, boy!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Singe hesitated. He still didn’t know what was happening, but it would be rude to ask again. The French man let go of Singe’s shoulders, the same giddy smile on his mouth. “We go to top of ship, now! Captain will tell you all!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As he said that, the all-hands signal sounded, and Singe bade the man farewell and climbed out onto the ratlines, hurriedly making his way topside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He was joined by many airmen, and soon the ratlines were sagging with the weight of so many men--and one woman. Deryn spotted Singe and made her way toward him in no time. She was still scowling. Singe said hello to her weakly, and she forced a smile in return.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ship was still around them; not even the hum of the engines could be felt in Singe’s fingertips because they were docked. Deryn was always saying how you could feel the beast moving and everything going on around them through the membrane, but he’d never felt it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You know what we’re up here for?” he asked once they’d made it topside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“No. Seeing as I’m not barking important enough to tell things to,” Deryn spat. Grimacing, Singe kept silent after that, not wanting to draw another biting remark from her. Everyone was gathering at the center of the spine, so as not to upset the ship’s balance, and the captain was standing in the middle of them all, a small circle cleared around him. Singe searched the crowd, but he couldn’t find Alek.</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Maybe he already knows what’s going on, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">he thought bitterly, despite himself. He was angry on Deryn’s behalf; she was part of the Society now, so she should be included.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The two of them were near the back, so most of the captains words were torn away, even though there was hardly any wind. He got the gist though; the mission was back on. Orders would be sent out, and all men were to follow them immediately, no questions asked. Though there was some grumbling from the men around him, they obeyed. Orders were orders, after all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The sun was slowly sagging on the horizon, growing dimmer by the minute.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was going to be a long night.</span></span></div><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br />
</span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-37564075665711783262012-02-10T18:15:00.000-08:002012-02-10T18:15:11.353-08:00Chapter 18!What? Did she really just say that? Gasp!<br />
Yes, oh dear readers, I did. I have chapter 18 for you. Really, I shouldn't post this yet, because it links very closely to the next few chapters, but I think that you've waited long enough. Also, I may or may not have finished this a few days a go and just not posted it...<br />
So! Here it is!<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek leaned out his window for a better look at Deryn as she climbed up the ratlines. The uninviting land of Unst sat below him, but he was accustomed to ignoring what was below him by now. Her name tickled the back of his throat as he was about to call to her, his thoughts heavy with guilt.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he opened his mouth, someone else spoke, “Aleksandar, you are requested at the bridge,” The message lizard spoke in the captain’s voice.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“I’ll be there right away, sir. End message.” The message lizard scrambled away. With one last look at Deryn as she climbed nimbly around with the other middies, hardly favoring her bad leg at all, he leaned back into his cabin, slung Bovril onto his shoulder, and left for the bridge.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Several of the ship’s officers were there, including the head boffin, Dr. Busk, Dr. Barlow, and the captain, as well as a man that Alek didn’t recognize.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he spoke, there was an unmistakable French accent laced in his irritated voice, “This is the boy, yes? We can begin now?” The man splayed his palms and leaned his weight on to the map table. There was a look about him that said he had not slept last night, which gave Alek a pang of sympathy; he hadn’t either. He was listening to Deryn’s deep breathing as she slept, clenching his fists when she awoke from a nightmare but was too proud to ask for his comfort.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Mr. Hohenberg,” the lady boffin said, “This is Dr. Horn, our new strategist. He planned our invasion of the Kjolen mountains, but I’m afraid--”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes, and I planned for </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">three</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ships, not one! It is all ruined!” Dr. Horn cried, clearly distressed. His knuckles had turned white where he was clamping them on the table.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Busk cast a helpless look to the captain, who worked his jaw in response.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Pardon me, sirs, Dr. Barlow,” Alek began, “but what was the plan?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The strategist glared at him wearily, making Alek feel like a waste of hydrogen. “You have heard of a gorgon, yes?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek shook his head politely, eyebrows drawn together.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Then I start at the beginning. The gorgon is an experimental fabrication, much like the Russian fighting bear, but much better. It is a bear that has life of rhinoceros and elephant for strength and shellfish for hard skull to ram things. Unfortunately, it has many bad senses, and searchlights and whistles do not work to direct it. So it has a companion creature called skata, with life of ape for intelligence, bat for flight, and skunk for smell. You understand, yes?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He nodded, “So the skata directs the gorgon with smells.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” Dr. Barlow said before the ruffled strategist could reply, “It can spray in two different ways; a concentrated spray the repels the gorgon, making it go in the opposite direction, and a mist that attracts it. The skata can easily understand a command whistle, so we tell the gorgon what to do through the skata. An ingenious chain, really.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We attack fortress with gorgon,” Dr. Horn said simply in his chopped English. A hand ran through his graying hair. “One airship carries bear and gives supplies to other ships to cancel for weight.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You were going to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">carry </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">a bear the size of a house across the North Sea?” Alek asked in astonishment, holding back a snort at the thought of a giant bear hanging beneath an airbeast and looking decidedly unpleased about it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes!” Dr. Horn cried. “Now we can not attack fortress, not without a gorgon! It is all ruined.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek, despite himself, felt very sorry for the man. “Surely there is a way that the mission can be salvaged...”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We’ve sent word to the Admirality,” Captain Hobbes sighed, “but it would seem that we have been given three choices on the matter.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We could attack the zeppelins without proof that they’re responsible,” Dr. Barlow said, “but if they aren’t, we could be responsible for reigniting the Great War, and viewed badly by the world.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek cursed. “We </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">know</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> they did it!” he yelled. “We’ll find our proof if we attack them!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“But that raises the question,” Dr. Barlow continued, “that if we attack the zeppelins, they could use their weapon against us.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“The only thing we know about it so far is its name from tapping into wireless signals sent between the Clanker powers,” Dr. Busk said. “</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Orion Omega</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Omega? Doesn’t that mean that it is--” he translated quickly “--last?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Most likely the final development of the machine,” the captain replied. “As of yet, our scientists have not been able to gain any information from the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Orion</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> that Mr. Fitzroy captured. As far as we can tell, there is something at the core, vital to the machine and finding out how to stop it, but there are many defenses around it that we can’t yet breach.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pursing his lips, Alek asked the lady boffin, “So what are our other options?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“We could try to devise a new plan in our current situation, or abandon the mission altogether.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“None of them have a high chance of success,” Dr. Busk said defeatedly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek stared at the maps on the table, chewing his lip just as Deryn did, “Whatever the Admirality says, I believe that we should find a way to continue the mission. I just think that it is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">important</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,” he said. Providence was guiding him to those mountains; he could feel the pull of them, just like in Istanbul when he was meant to aid the revolution. It was a static electricity in his stomach, prickling along his skin like a tesla cannon when he thought about it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow raised a thin eyebrow at him from under her bowler. He cursed silently. Here he was, trying to sound adult and useful, and he ended up saying he </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">felt</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> like something was important. Maybe he was a waste of hydrogen after all. “Well,” he said, trying to salvage his dignity, “Is there a way to use what we already have, but in a different way?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The strategist’s lip curled. “You ask me to bake a cake with no flour!” He pounded a fist on the table, making the maps rustle, “It cannot be done!”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Clearly we all need to take a break,” said the captain calmly, “We’ll meet again later; after we receive word from the Admirality.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes.” Dr. Horn walked briskly from the room, his boots clicking on the fabricated wood floor as he went.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">French</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">,” Dr. Busk shook his head and turned on his heel to leave. Dr. Barlow lightly took hold of Alek’s shoulder and led him into the hallway, her loris crawling down her arm to speak with Bovril.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alek was quite alarmed when they began a comprehensible conversation; “Hullo, good sir,” Dr. Barlow’s loris said in its haughty tone.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Why, hello there,” Bovril replied.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“You have heard of a skata?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Yes,” the loris said gravely, “they spray smells.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Gas!” the other loris cried. “Use what we have in a different way.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dr. Barlow snapped for her loris to crawl back up to her shoulder, her head tilted in thought. Alek was thinking, too. “Why was I part of that meeting and not Dylan?”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Dylan is partial to the situation; his opinions would be rash and biased,” Dr. Barlow shrugged her slight shoulders. “And suffering from grief at the loss of his cousin as he is, he needs time to recover.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Oh.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The lady boffin slipped around the corner, passing Singe on the way by. Alek brightened at the sight of him. “Singe!” he called, but just as the boy turned to look at him, Deryn appeared behind him. The words caught in his throat, choking him into saying, “Uh--nice--um--tie.”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bovril leapt from his shoulder, landing lithe as a cat on the ground, and rushed to Deryn, swarming up her leg and torso to her shoulder, where he perched with a look of contentment. The traitor.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She shot him a murderous glare that made his skin crawl.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m sorry,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> he wanted to say, but didn’t.</span></span></div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-47870373565311897622012-02-05T19:26:00.000-08:002012-02-05T19:26:14.498-08:00This is an "Art" Post :)So how would you all like to see some art by yours truly? Lots? Okay, I shall satisfy your craving, then.<br />
This is Bovril in block-ed-ness, an art class project. Oh, excuse me, a Crafts project.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVqrEpzGNVV2zYogQ05tNO7CSpFbtxZBUwXJAnASmQOt0cts-jp1tBL_XkzVQ2VQuDaHsz4ZEAaIssMbRt1t7nRrV_AtkFefXefSQ0bBRw2rTOBEraGxcNzf2cvmHv1h2jh5tH1XFfjbF/s1600/Bovril+with+Mustache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBVqrEpzGNVV2zYogQ05tNO7CSpFbtxZBUwXJAnASmQOt0cts-jp1tBL_XkzVQ2VQuDaHsz4ZEAaIssMbRt1t7nRrV_AtkFefXefSQ0bBRw2rTOBEraGxcNzf2cvmHv1h2jh5tH1XFfjbF/s320/Bovril+with+Mustache.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>And here's another of the same type, but of a steaming coffee mug. Can you believe I only got 16 and 17 out of 20 points on these? I want to know how he grades *pouts in a corner because that means she's getting a "B" in that class, and she's a straight "A" student*<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwk_ngVDJLRMYbuwQmVFgMxhQBhyTgyLTVcEK9AeJlSc2D8d5a0s2xWdxHlTbymKmHrTEbNSWRODqF1tdTGfl8w-ZavxnBeB4za6qsi_yzl7oh1WoRxDtbmWk85jWen4S16QHrMsTJO61y/s1600/Steaming+Mug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwk_ngVDJLRMYbuwQmVFgMxhQBhyTgyLTVcEK9AeJlSc2D8d5a0s2xWdxHlTbymKmHrTEbNSWRODqF1tdTGfl8w-ZavxnBeB4za6qsi_yzl7oh1WoRxDtbmWk85jWen4S16QHrMsTJO61y/s320/Steaming+Mug.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And now we have two completely random LBG comics. The first one is referencing the Bonus Chapter, and the second has no purpose at all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkSTDoAX3DXmtmWu475nHcH0J4kP9K_xb2R1XP0Ybj42YqJD2RZDEFHInwObOH0p9D0cLD-1trF-GXekvjNG4zuVr0y9sCAwWBVAwDXL76ZB8TeHBf-9mXK-MstYHt3I1OvyoNQSURBDh/s1600/LBG+Comic+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkSTDoAX3DXmtmWu475nHcH0J4kP9K_xb2R1XP0Ybj42YqJD2RZDEFHInwObOH0p9D0cLD-1trF-GXekvjNG4zuVr0y9sCAwWBVAwDXL76ZB8TeHBf-9mXK-MstYHt3I1OvyoNQSURBDh/s400/LBG+Comic+1.jpg" width="231" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJER3us7fjp0A_0G0so3jCaY54i5ELnRvHquKbtYC_lgfrLazj-D-uNmYOSNB-_h54A6ayXNOuIl46r8_CapZ0giwkCq-sMhOc7hGDKeWXsuNgcugkMmrapEE3Fbm2oUmzUvQxGodnEy28/s1600/LBG+Comic+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJER3us7fjp0A_0G0so3jCaY54i5ELnRvHquKbtYC_lgfrLazj-D-uNmYOSNB-_h54A6ayXNOuIl46r8_CapZ0giwkCq-sMhOc7hGDKeWXsuNgcugkMmrapEE3Fbm2oUmzUvQxGodnEy28/s400/LBG+Comic+2.jpg" width="221" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the very final one I spent all day on. It's for a contest, http://www.artedia.org/TakeItOutsideArtContestLabels.pdf , and mine is only partly following the fishing or hunting theme. She went fishing, but the day was just so perfect that she had to lay down and enjoy it. That barking grass alone took at least an hour of coloring!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIj_KuE5VkwymIiqZGeFEw52rjSlVSLfwMowhP5n8MFogJ5EV-rG14EhvMED6c78zo7Nrz4PFR6DGSv5rnZ34N9dhcC3dg2KcRVAoeSJLXa2k7pmOJFmarSDvwaQ_D-o7aOjOqnZyGK4x/s1600/TiO+Art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIj_KuE5VkwymIiqZGeFEw52rjSlVSLfwMowhP5n8MFogJ5EV-rG14EhvMED6c78zo7Nrz4PFR6DGSv5rnZ34N9dhcC3dg2KcRVAoeSJLXa2k7pmOJFmarSDvwaQ_D-o7aOjOqnZyGK4x/s640/TiO+Art.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hope you enjoyed this! 'Night all!</div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-936140009471327311.post-9183686228749380262012-02-04T12:25:00.000-08:002012-02-04T12:25:21.533-08:00Snow! Finally!Here are some pictures of the snow that's been coming down in big, wet flakes all morning, ending with some snowy art by me, my sister, and my aunt.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rJDfuNdAgTabiD3nZ7wEUEC91uhn_CcLlEFCut9TPQY-EaxjGOvK6VBx3LkVr2nB8LmLTg52VM1XVK1DgGnC5x1A0yOp5zaIL1y6dBGukf0A-JJkidh2qQQjnNmHRWkHJ64VhmnTtoON/s1600/Snowy+slide.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rJDfuNdAgTabiD3nZ7wEUEC91uhn_CcLlEFCut9TPQY-EaxjGOvK6VBx3LkVr2nB8LmLTg52VM1XVK1DgGnC5x1A0yOp5zaIL1y6dBGukf0A-JJkidh2qQQjnNmHRWkHJ64VhmnTtoON/s400/Snowy+slide.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This one was of the play set on top of the hill at my grandparent's house, dwarfed by the giant tree next to it and coated in snow. This next one is of the same thing, but from a different angle;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog5KFdg-fPmB0DK30MK3wZAbrO_PN-iaNZZd0s2Hd7c6tgT9xh8Cbjv9dUjYxaJhF1ARkWK4LQ5BdV48QLOb8Y10RUechJbA2iNjzkxhJjO8QLAymlRyhk_YnJ7CiYsyXBPKCKq3x_deM/s1600/Snowy+slide2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog5KFdg-fPmB0DK30MK3wZAbrO_PN-iaNZZd0s2Hd7c6tgT9xh8Cbjv9dUjYxaJhF1ARkWK4LQ5BdV48QLOb8Y10RUechJbA2iNjzkxhJjO8QLAymlRyhk_YnJ7CiYsyXBPKCKq3x_deM/s400/Snowy+slide2.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This next one illustrates the way this winter really only hit us today; there's still some leaves on the trees.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtQ6xYpoSe8sMH4K3Ms-jkw1mGFkMkFTST6B7nd9kkkz3C1VIjQWjAbZCPx0P6SaBLbResA569pxAz3XvWXZiWZOouj-oK7U-3mYUjvCNchwBSSRTWVtp-x9ox3ykqCuJD9rAhgoQ10Do/s1600/Winter+Scene.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtQ6xYpoSe8sMH4K3Ms-jkw1mGFkMkFTST6B7nd9kkkz3C1VIjQWjAbZCPx0P6SaBLbResA569pxAz3XvWXZiWZOouj-oK7U-3mYUjvCNchwBSSRTWVtp-x9ox3ykqCuJD9rAhgoQ10Do/s400/Winter+Scene.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And this last one is my personal favorite; I helped make it on the hill right off the highway. It's the family name, with my grandparent's first names below that. We just tromped down the snow with our feet to write it. So much fun :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvFo7Q8_D8dfvNiDwH_ummJSJhx_VAB293hNN2rocydYOMwjxN3rkDZypkw-K9wJFmmQYd9lKkwGsrFyW-hIx7JDRw2Kw8ajAgMlfP7Tt4P6WImNRhD1Jndo-Dd7rU1NO24Gqb6TqEaB2/s1600/Slykhuis.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvFo7Q8_D8dfvNiDwH_ummJSJhx_VAB293hNN2rocydYOMwjxN3rkDZypkw-K9wJFmmQYd9lKkwGsrFyW-hIx7JDRw2Kw8ajAgMlfP7Tt4P6WImNRhD1Jndo-Dd7rU1NO24Gqb6TqEaB2/s640/Slykhuis.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm sitting in the "&" sign :b</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Middy Mileshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10617357472768047275noreply@blogger.com0