A few days later had passed since they'd passed through the Carronade Pass, and things were starting to return to normal. Their card games had become more lively as the mood of the officers seemed to lift, chief amongst them Lawrence. Whilst he might not have joined them the last few nights, Archer had at the very least seen his boss at morning mess, likely signalling that the man's self-imposed isolation was over. At this point he'd seen a little more of Gaul, which he was thankful for, and much more of the Pass than he'd ever wanted to see, Archer had truly begun to understand how monumental the battle here must have been. He'd read of it, of course, and obviously he knew on a purely subjective and intellectual level how large it had been, but to actually see the remains lying still far below... it had been something else entirely, a whole new experience.
Lawrence's mood had improved somewhat since they put distance between themselves and the Carronade Pass, but he still seemed a little out of it. Not that Archer blamed him, of course; the Battle of the Carronade pass, though a victory for Albion, had been one of the worst military disasters in living memory. To be forced to relive a day such as that... it had been hard enough just seeing the hundreds of skeletal airship remains far below, let alone to have actually fought in it. Still, that was far behind them now. Soon enough they'd pass through Gaul's southern border with Occsa and be on the last leg of their journey to Three-Streams, not that Archer knew how anyone could tell since one patch of windswept valley looked much the same as any other to him.
"Archer."
He nodded his head formally.
"Mr Walker. Are you well today?"
The man nodded back at him.
"I am. Thank you for your diligence and concern these last few days. Don't think I haven't noticed a few things fixed since I woke myself from my funk."
Archer's cheeks flushed a little as he smiled.
"Thank you, Mr Walker. It was only simple things really, nothing technical or major."
Lawrence nodded back at him.
"Aye, that it might have been, but it's still a step forwards for you. Now I know you can keep things from piling up too badly in the event that I take ill for true. I don't expect you to try and take on the major repairs yet, not without my guidance, and to be honest I'm glad you didn't try to fix it all. No offense to you or your skills, Mr Haywood, but I do not believe I would be comfortable with anyone save myself dealing with those major systems."
Archer chuckled.
"Myself as well, Mr Walker. In time I'll learn, but I'm still far too inexperienced to entertain such thoughts at the moment."
The two men smiled at each other before Lawrence sighed and stretched, his back audibly popping.
"Ahh, that feels good. My apologies for being out of commission these last few days, Archer. It is alright if I call you Archer, yes? You said as much when we met but we both quickly lapsed into formalities."
Archer was tempted to laugh at the level of caution in his boss' voice, but thought better of it. He didn't want it to be mistaken for mocking, after all. Besides, the man was right; the two of them had told each other to use their first names and then almost immediately began using formalities again.
"Perhaps we should maintain our standards of formality when in the presence of others? I understand that they have a preconceived notion of what it means to work under you, and that my predecessors found it rather amusing to keep them in the dark."
A fond smile fell across Lawrence's face.
"That they did, God rest them both. You are suggesting we refer to each other by our first names whilst here, working by ourselves, but to maintain the use of formalities in, for instance, the mess hall?"
Archer nodded.
"Pretty much. I thought it might be quite amusing to keep them guessing, so to speak. To remain as seemingly impartial and cordial as possible whilst still being rather friendly."
Lawrence grinned at him.
"Now there's a plan I can get behind. I think out of everyone on the ship save only Talon, you're the only one who gets to see how mischievous I can be when I want. I'm not the rigid disciplinarian I was when I was younger, and they all know it, but they don't know just how far from it I can go."
Archer grinned back at him in response.
"Oh, I've got an idea all right. That trick you pulled on Talwynn for what, three, four days? That was a thing of beauty to behold. A masterstroke, if you do not mind me saying so. To make sure she never got frustrated enough to abandon the game or folded her hand, but to be cruel enough to make sure she would always lose regardless... that surely took a great mixture of planning, cunning, and skill to pull off."
"It was difficult, but worth it. No-one accuses me of lacking diligence."
"I don't think she'll be pulling that again anytime soon, at least not at the card table. Wouldn't be surprised to find her unloading the puckle-guns at the gulls in response if you pull that trick again though."
"Heh, that sounds about right."
Lawrence's smile fell a little, and he dropped his voice to be far quieter. Not quite a whisper, but certainly close.
"I was unable to... I mean... what I mean to say is that... well, I was unable to help Talon whilst we travelled through the pass. Was he alright? I know it can't have been easy for him either."
Archer nodded, doing his best not to lie out of compassion.
"Yes and no. He was rather... despondent, I suppose is the right word, whilst we travelled through the Pass. He was alright though, for the most part. I do not tell you this to curry favour with you of course, but I did my best to keep him company and make sure he at the very least had someone to talk to. I take it he doesn't confide in people outside of you?"
Lawrence smiled a little, but it soon took on a cautious aspect.
"That may be so, but I fail to see what business it is of yours. Nonetheless, thank you for accompanying him through these last few days. That was most kind of you."
"It was nothing, honestly. I'm glad to have been of assistance for my friends. Still, I do find it passing odd that the two of you in particular were so affected."
Archer stopped, rubbing his chin with a free hand, and began thinking aloud.
"Is it- I mean it's the only thing that makes sense!"
"Archer."
"It couldn't just be that he's close to you; he seemed to grow sad at around the same time as you, which obviously means he couldn't have known for certain you were sad. That only leaves one possibility!"
"Archer!"
Lawrence's voice grew strained and more than a tad irritated, but Archer's eyes lit up like light bulbs as he came to his conclusion, still oblivious to Lawrence's growing annoyance.
"I knew he must have served at the Pass as well!"
"ARCHER!"
At the raising of Lawrence's voice snapped Archer out of his thoughts, and his mouth opened and closed in shock a few times as he realised he'd been speaking his thoughts aloud. The voice of his boss was curt and cold, a warning if ever he'd heard one.
"Please cease these enquiries, and your theorising for that matter. Talon's past is his own to know, and he will tell you himself if he wishes it."
Lawrence's voice returned to normal, the anger bleeding out.
"Please, for now, let it rest. He is a good friend of mine and has been for many years. You are also my friend, if for far shorter a time, and I do not wish for my emotions to be heightened in a negative manner around you, so for that I apologise, but I must insist you cease trying to piece together Talon's past. He's where he wants to be, and I don't want anyone to take him from it without his express consent."
Archer swallowed and nodded, his mind swimming with thoughts.
"And you think that me knowing his past will cause him to have to leave the Sunbird?"
Lawrence ran a hand through his hair.
"It's... it's complicated. He gets along well with you, and you helped him where I couldn't so I have no doubt that the truth will come out at some point, but until that moment, and hopefully after, you'll just see him as 'Talon Cooke', the happy chef of the RAN Sunbird."
Archer let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and nodded again.
"Understood, Lawrence. I'm sorry for prying. It wasn't my intention to cause you distress, nor Cooke, nor anyone else for that matter."
Lawrence exhaled as well, and let the beginnings of a smile form at the corners of his mouth.
"I know, Archer. No harm done. I'm sorry for being so 'snappy' with you earlier."
There was silence for a few seconds, then the man let out a quiet laugh before speaking.
"Come on then, we've got some work to do. Let's hope you haven't made too much of a mess of things recently."
"Hey!"
----------------------------------------
As it turned out he hadn't made a mess of things, which was lucky. He'd performed what routine maintenance he knew himself to be competent at, mostly consisting of the non-technical aspects such as checking sections of railing and walkway for signs of rust or instability, as well as at the very least checking over the engines and their subsidiary parts. He wouldn't be able to fix any of it if something was wrong, but he thought it best to at least keep tabs on what had fallen loose or seemed at risk of being overworn.
Regardless of how little he felt he'd accomplished, Lawrence seemed to be pleased that he had a starting point and wouldn't need to search the whole ship from balloon to keel for anything that may be in need of attention. He certainly seemed to like the fact that Archer appeared to have memorised what must have been half of the ship's engineering inventory off by heart; the side effect of spending several days straight endlessly staring at boxes of screws, bolts, and other assorted spare parts was that he didn't often have to run and make checks on what they had in stock.
"So, whereabouts will be be going when we clear Gaul?"
Lawrence stopped and scratched his chin, the engineer seemingly thinking over his words a great deal before he answered.
"Well, if I had to place down a wager, I'd say we'll cross the border into Occsa soon enough. That's fine; the Occsans are a friendly enough people who've fought the rebels with us since everything kicked off. The problems will probably begin once we cross through Occsa into Lovan. Lovan, and our destination of Viceste, since that's where Three-Streams is, are revolutionary territory. Not the rebels we've been fighting, but the entrenched republics that have kicked out their own monarchies and parliaments. They'll not take too kindly to a ship of the RAN flying through."
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Archer swallowed.
"Do you expect trouble from Lovan? Or Viceste?"
The man made a fifty-fifty motion with his hands.
"Maybe, maybe not. I doubt we'll see much trouble in Viceste; if they chased out every ship from the kingdoms of the west then they'd be cutting off a huge portion of their trading wealth, so not from them. The trouble is that to get there we need to head through Lovan, and unlike Viceste, Lovan is ruled over by a dictator. The revolutionaries from the nations in the centre of the continent were hardly unified, you see, and they've only been driven together by the fact that Albion, Gaul, and all the other kingdoms in the west had already done the same. As a result you've got half-a-dozen council republics and half-a-dozen military dictators trying to play nice with each other and avoid an internal division. Of the two groups, the dictators are most likely to try and seize the Sunbird, or otherwise try to take her down, to try and increase their popularity amongst their subjects. Still, with any luck whoever's in charge will see sense and let us pass. After all, I doubt they want to cause an international incident."
Archer laughed a little at the humorous inflection Lawrence had put into the last sentence, taking a breath to calm himself before he made to answer.
"And how long should it take us to get there?"
Lawrence rubbed his chin again.
"Hmm... I'd say... perhaps a month to the capital of Occsa... then... two months to reach Lovan, topped off by a final month to reach Three-Streams. Somewhere around four months in total, by my reckoning."
Archer smiled.
"Seems quite a while. How many card games do you reckon we'll have to play to while away the evenings?"
"Heh, quite a few I'd reckon. I don't expect us to be able to play every night of course, but I reckon we'll be making up for it on the days we are off duty. Sometimes table places will be taken by ratings or deckhands if someone isn't there, so don't be surprised if someone else turns up whenever one of our regulars can't make it. We're not the only two who'll be working overtime as we get further from Albion and lower on supplies."
Archer nodded, trying his best to treat his boss' words, specifically the overtime comment, with due seriousness. By the time he needed to work longer shifts he would, hopefully at least, have a better grip on the more advanced and technical parts of the ship. The engines, the propellors, the ventilation, and indeed the pumps. There was a lot to learn, no matter how much or how little he felt he'd come so far.
"Archer? You there?"
He shook himself from his thoughts and smiled apologetically at Lawrence.
"Sorry, was just thinking over some of the things I'll need to have learned by the time we get there. I take it the route you mentioned takes the long way around the Mortuary?"
Lawrence nodded stiffly.
"Aye. Hopefully you'll never see the inside of that graveyard in your five years of service. If we went straight through it could still take us just as long to make it through, because despite the fact it covers a much shorter distance we'd need to travel extremely slowly and carefully, lest we risk joining many of the other who have attempted the passage. Then again, it might end up being quicker. You never really can tell in that place until you come out the other side."
Lawrence turned and gave him a small smile before continuing.
"But you shouldn't need to worry about that. Come on, we'll finish up here and then head to mess."
Archer nodded, smiling.
"Sounds good boss. Let's go."
----------------------------------------
"Two pairs, sixes and eights."
"Bugger. I was certain I had you there."
"Sorry mate, beginners luck will only take you so far."
"I've been here for a couple of weeks now; I don't think I'm much of a beginner anymore."
"Quiet, you two. Archer, let us know what you've got in your hand."
Talwynn's tone, as chipper as ever, stopped Archer from continuing his little back-and-forth with the corporal.
"Alright, alright. Three of a kind, sixes."
The corporal looked over, confused, and Archer responded with a teasing smile.
"I thought you said you'd lost to my hand?"
Archer nodded.
"I did. I was lying."
Sergeant Owen let out a guffaw of laughter as his nephew somewhat begrudgingly threw his chips into the centre of the table, whereupon Archer collected them with much glee.
"That seems nice, thank you very much Corporal."
"Don't push your luck, Assistant Engineer."
There was a lightly mocking inflection to the man's voice, clearly without any intention of ill-will or genuine mockery, but rather friendly ribbing.
"Apologies, Mr Haywood, but I think you'll find my hand to beat your own."
Archer raised an eyebrow at his boss, only for it to swiftly fall as two aces were gently placed face-up on the table.
"I believe that, when added to the ace in the centre, I have a three of a kind of a higher value than your own."
Archer nodded, almost as begrudgingly as the corporal had a moment ago.
"Aye, it does. Enjoy your winnings, Mr Walker."
"I believe I shall. Anyone up for another round?"
"Sure."
"Sounds good."
The people around the table each muttered their affirmations, before the scraping of a chair being pulled up to the table was heard.
"Could I be dealt in as well?"
The players turned to face Cooke, each of them offering the man a smile. It was a rare enough occasion that he got some time to play, since he was usually quite busy when the rest of them were enjoying mess, but they all liked having him at the table. He seemed to get on with almost everyone, with the exception of those so cutthroat, so vile, as to be unapproachable.
"Certainly! Make yourself seated, friend. Will you be taking a drink?"
The man shook his head politely.
"No thank you, if its alright with you. I prefer only to drink a little for celebrations, as opposed to whenever."
Archer nodded, and gestured towards the table. Cooke finished pulling his chair around and sat next to Lawrence, which didn't surprise anyone. He joined in with the small-talk and witticisms that seemed to characterise card games in the officer's mess with an almost childish innocence. Archer spared a moment to consider how differently Talon and Lawrence seemed to have coped with the Battle of the Carronade Pass. Where Lawrence seemed to, by his own admission, try and act as though he were some emotionless automaton, Talon seemed to be almost stuck in a childlike state. Still, according to everyone around them they'd both managed to mellow each other out a lot in the years since, Talon wearing away Lawrence's harsher edges whilst Lawrence helped him learn how to better channel his grief, rather than bottling it away. Despite the nature of the topic, it was almost uplifting; the two of them were living proof that one could face death in its rawest form, and yet pull through the other side unbroken. All they had needed was the support of a friend, and that had been enough.
He soon allowed the thought to pass, however. There was little to gain from thinking on such things, and he'd already promised Lawrence he'd leave it alone. His cards were already on the table face-down in front of him, Talwynn having dealt them almost as fast as he could blink, and he raised them close to his chest to reveal a three and a seven. He grimaced a little, but quickly suppressed it. Probably the best he could hope for would be a double pair, and whilst there was a faint chance of a straight if a four, five, and six entered the middle, he wasn't exactly keen on his chances. He still had his hail-mary, but that nine wasn't likely to help him much here.
His eyes darted around the table, trying to get a read on everyone. Talwynn was probably the easiest to read; the gunnery officer always did wear her emotions free for all to see, which did work to her detriment when it came to games such as this where throwing off one's opponent was paramount. Judging by her intense frown he knew that she can't of had a particularly good hand, and was likely trying to run through her options before she was called upon to act. The Rickard's were, as ever, stoic when playing cards. That wasn't to say they were unreadable; whilst Sergeant Owen might have had quite the stern expression, his nephew, whilst not as bad as Talwynn, had enough tells and tics that he was never exactly the best at these sorts of games. The twitch of the corner of his mouth, a brief eyebrow raise, a huffed breath. All of these were things that gave away the fact that he too was carrying a poor hand.
If Archer found the sergeant hard to read, and indeed he did, it was far harder to get a read on Lawrence. The man's face was set in stone, his brows furrowing in thought and brief frowns appearing only to trick people into thinking they'd gotten a read on him, that they'd found one of his tells. In reality, he had no such tics. It was purely a manual action, dedicated entirely to making sure that whatever his hand, no-one had any idea what exactly he would be able to do. In that way, as in many ways, he was somehow both the exact same as, and the opposite of, Cooke. Cooke also seemed to pull faces at random, but where Lawrence was making a calculated effort to throw off his opponents Archer got the impression that Cooke was just genuinely confused most of the time. The man wasn't stupid, and Archer had grown to like him enough that he'd likely try and fight anyone that said otherwise, but it seemed to take him longer than most people Archer knew to work out what he was going to do with his hands whenever he joined a game.
Still, even then Archer wasn't sure if it was something to do with the man himself or if it was just the result of him not being able to play as much, and thus being less experienced. Whatever the reason, he'd never known anyone comment on it whilst they were playing. Jokes about anyone else taking too long to make a decision were almost expected, as was the good-natured ribbing that came with it, but he'd never heard anyone make a joke at the expense of the young cook. Archer was still relatively new, and he had thought that perhaps it was just a coincidence, but given how well-liked he was by the rest of the officers, and how... childlike he often acted, Archer wasn't going to make any jokes at the man's expense unless he knew for certain that he was okay with it, along with the rest of the officers. Talon seemed to naturally make people want to protect him, however silly that may have sounded, and Archer really didn't want to find out what would happen if he were on the receiving end of that protectiveness.
He went to open the round by declaring his opening bet, but he was interrupted by runner bearing a message who he recognised as midshipman Darren, the young boy who'd given their message to start the engines to the captain.
"Mr Walker, sir!"
Lawrence rolled his eyes at the title, only to visibly stop and look at the young boy with a worried expression on his face when he took in the tone.
"You have a message for me?"
The boy nodded and ran up to him, whispering a message in his ear before taking two steps back. Lawrence looked over at the lad again, his face panic-stricken.
"You're certain?"
The boy nodded once, with a dreadful finality, and Lawrence swallowed.
"God, no. That... that bastard."
The room went deathly still as all present seemed to be thinking something over. All of a sudden Archer felt the most curious sensation of his every hair standing on its end, of alarm bells ringing out in his head. He was confused; why was this sensation flooding through him? It seemed to be affecting the others in the room, some people looking as confused as he felt and others feeling fearful.
"Mr Walker?"
The man stared forwards blankly, and Archer was uncertain if he had even heard him speak.
"He's taking us through. He's actually taking us through. You bastard. You miserable fucking bastard."
The engineer rose from his chair abruptly, haphazardly tossing his hand of cards across the table.
"Mr Haywood, up. Now."
It wasn't a request. His boss had an air of almost palpable dread around him, tempered only by a rising air of resolution, of true determination.
"What is it?"
Lawrence suddenly whipped around to face him, a look approaching panic still on his face. If he's beginning to panic then that doesn't bode well for any of us. Lawrence took a deep breath. Archer felt the need to lick his lips at the motion, at the very thought of Lawrence fearing something in the air, but all of a sudden his mouth felt very dry.
"Right, we've got a job to do. More urgent than what we've been doing so far. I don't expect you to know what we're doing fully, but there won't be any time for me to explain in-depth like I have so far. When I say to do something, you do it right away unless stated otherwise, understood."
Archer swallowed as best he could with his dry throat, nodding once. Lawrence returned the gesture.
"Good. You're a good man, Mr Haywood. I'll let you know when we're in the clear again, don't you worry. We just need to do our jobs and we'll all come out fine, God willing."
"Why, Mr Walker? What's going on?"
The man sighed once more before beginning to move.
"Because despite telling us we'd be going around, the captain is taking us straight through the Thornbush Mortuary."
There was a moment of quiet at the table, and then everyone began panickily shouting all at once. Everyone except Archer, and except Lawrence. He wasn't sure what everyone at the table was talking about, only that they were talking. He felt as though his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach at the news, but there was little time to dwell. He nodded once at Lawrence, and the man returned the gesture. Silently he rose from the table, as did Cooke, who made to stand in front of them.
"No. No, you can't. You're not going into the balloon whilst we're travelling through that place. Please, Lawrie. I'll talk to the captain, just don't go up there."
Lawrence gave him a tired smile as he responded, the man not even commenting on the use of the nickname.
"We have to. The balloon is most important thing to repair. We'll likely be on shift all night if everything goes to plan, but as soon as we pass the initial danger things will quiet down quite a bit. There's little to be done other than my duty to the Sunbird."
"I'll talk to him, get him to turn the ship around!"
Lawrence let out a dry chuckle at that, and Archer could practically taste the bitterness of his words.
"Talon, I've been following dangerous orders from Captain Crowle ever since his father passed away and gave him the captaincy. There's little different this time."
Lawrence pressed a chaste kiss to the man's knuckles, though whether it was the gesture of friends who had a closeness he could never understand or the gesture of a lover he was unsure.
"I'll be back with you come the dawn. I promise."
Lawrence turned back to face Archer, who had turned away a little to give the two some privacy in case he was intruding on a moment.
"Mr Haywood. We're to fetch all the canvas as well as some needles and strong thread from storeroom D. We're taking them up into the balloon. The air pump is working fine, so there's little worry about that. You'll be responsible for operating the winch and, if needs be, taking over from me. Understood."
No, was the answer he wanted to say, but he understood that there was little time for such distractions.
"Yes." Was the answer he gave, but in his heart he felt as though nothing was further from the truth.