The guard that brought a tied up Jupiter to the main deck had the strung-out rangy physique of a hunter, or of the Blackbirders he had seen. The manisaur could intimidate with just the glare from his aura. With no words the manisaur said he meant business and Jupiter had no choice but to cower and obey. He figured the manisaur had practiced that look a lot.
Jupiter did not quite cower, but he did not resist. Why would he if it meant returning to daylight from the dank skyfort interior?
Across the deck, under the brilliant white sun, busy manisaurs worked to repair the skyfort. A hot drying wind blew across the deck and he wished he could unzip his wetsuit but with bound arms he stood and suffered. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and an itch in the centre of his back made him stretch and wriggle.
His guard eyed him with suspicion. ‘You stay.’ The shout in his ear came accompanied by a shove as the guard released the grip on Jupiter’s arm. ’If I seen you move, I toss you overboard, no matter the Air Lord wants with you.’
With his hands bound and no place for to go Jupiter saw no way out. At least he stood in shade, but the heat of the wooden planks still rose through his sailing boots. As the main deck bustled about repairs he became the one place the navy crew avoided. The intimidating glare of his guard saw to that.
Some crew had formed up into squads held at the ready, others stamped along the deck to haul ropes, or lay out sails, or made repairs to running gear. Upon the masts and spars swinging crew strung ropes and reeved knots in them. Everywhere a burbling cacophony filled the air as if a dawn chorus of song birds practiced for a rock concert. He rotated his head to find the quietest direction, but every which way deafened him. He wondered how they understood one another. Then he saw the flickering of the crews tails, and the shimmer of auras. They spoke in their visual language as much as by speaking.
‘Then why so much racket?’ Jupiter grumped. He lay one ear on the sticky fabric of his wetsuit’s shoulder but it made little difference to the noise.
Floating off the starboard beam the upended skyfort had been drawn within thirty meters, and the gap between strung with ropes. Bridges of cord and wood swayed with crew running materials between the skyforts. Cranes swung larger beams on ropes. Along the railing facing the gap, at every ten paces or so, crewmen stood with axes held at the ready. Long blades hung at their sides. No one seemed alert or seeking an enemy. Even his guard seemed bored.
Underneath the sound of the manisaur’s hubbub came uneasy moans and groans. The capsized skyfort seemed to suffer in pain somehow. As well it might since the loss of the stern had changed the mass balance so much the hull had rotated at right angles. Its bulk now shifted again under the weight of activity as they made repairs to it. In a flash of understanding Jupiter saw the need for the axes. If the broken vessel dropped or rotated without warning, the captain would want to cut free the ropes that bound them together and so save his own skyfort.
The work on the damaged vessel focussed on building a long jutting pylon. Spars had been seated in the wreckage of the hull, then braced and cantilevered out horizontally. The vertically hanging skyship had come to resemble an upside down L, with the hull the vertical part of the L, and the pylon the shorter extension. The damage inside would be extensive. Floors and ceilings would become walls, the long central corridor a dangerous shaft.
The manisaur crew jumped and swung over the upended vessel with ease. And he realized these acrobatic beings were much more suited to dealing with the upturn of their ship than any human could possible be.
He saw then their plan. A set of ropes connected the end of the pylon with raised anchor points on the main deck at the stumps of the masts. As the ropes were shortened, the L shape would turn into a flatter shape until the skyfort rotated level once more. Inside the bracing of the counterweight a huge beast stood confined within a round structure like a big open-ended drum. Now it paced like a rat in a spinning wheel. The rotation winched the ropes shorter around the barrel of the drum. The beast moaned then, and the source of the painful sounds became clear.
Stones, and barrels, and other heavy items were packed on platforms on the counterweight — but the huge beast itself would have been almost enough.
‘Wonder where that behemoth came from?’ Jupiter grinned when after a mental struggle, he found the right word for the beast. ‘Behemoth… Behemosaur.’
A groan rumbled from beneath Jupiter’s feet. Could another Behemosaur be carried aboard here? Perhaps all skyforts had the beasts within their huge bellies. He recalled then the same moaning call he and Maggie had heard the night of the attack on Vanukam. The Behemosaurs were used as tugs to haul skyships across land.
‘Or to power winches and act as counterweights. Or ballast even.’
The huge spaces he had seen along the corridor made sense now. Perhaps crew moved the hauler-beasts along here? Even use their weight to change the trim of the skyship. Except the zharaqsa flight-engine would do most of that work. Probably, until it failed, or became over-stretched like on the damaged skyfort.
Jupiter could not see much of the animal through the winch structure. But he knew they bulked huge, and grey, and four footed, with a short powerful neck. He could see all that in the shifting silhouette. Each pace took over a second to make. Slow and powerful — like an elephant. But from the scale of the manisaurs near it the Behemosaur was a lot bigger than an elephant.
Another four legged-bird-dinosaur creature had taken the place of mammals on Earth. He might have to get used to the idea that on Eoth he, like all mammals, was an evolutionary dead-end.
‘And soon to be endangered.’
A distant horn blew far away off to port. Jupiter turned to see but staggered to his knees when his guard cuffed him. He pressed a stinging ear to his shoulder once more — shrugged it against his ear a couple of times to ease the pain. The guard hauled him spinning to his feet, but in doing so gave him a glimpse of the source of the horn.
Activity on the skyfort changed as the horn blew again. Manisaurs quieted to listen and look. A smaller skyship lay off to port and now moved close. A long rope trailed beneath it out of sight towards the ground.
Jupiter got the sense the sounding of the horn from the new arrival served as a salute rather than a warning or alarm. Lookouts would already have alerted the captain of its approach. The small skyship had a reduced sail and flew only a long streaming banner from its masthead. The flag was similar to those he had seen during the battle, but colored red and yellow with white bands between. Once it came close, the vessel proved to be a lot smaller than other skyships he had seen, a short rear mast, with a tall foremast. Just two side masts were set amidships so the rig would make it easier to sail with a small crew.
The guard dragged him to the railing, curious of the newcomer themselves. Jupiter saw then how the rope beneath the skyship lead to a small rowing galley in the water. And for the first time Jupiter saw his captor’s skyfort lay close to shore, tethered and unmoving. Away towards the bow of the skyfort stretched the curve of a long sandy bay. Mountains like battlements rose in the far distance. Snow lay upon their tops.
The pounding of surf underlay the hubbub of the manisaur crew. He should have realized the strong wind on the deck meant they were not floating in the wind. Perhaps the arriving skyship had followed the curve of the shore to meet with the Air Lord’s skyforts.
That the skyfort crew were relaxed meant he could forget his brief hope of rescue from a small rebel craft. Jupiter’s heart ached a little at that. He had known he’d have to find a way to escape on his own. There would be no help coming. The dashing of the fleeting hope bit at him with a painful jolt.
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As the new arrival approached, signals flashed on the small Imperial skyship’s panels too fast for Jupiter to catch. Crew manned the yard arms and threw ball-ended ropes to the skyfort, and drew first thin, then thicker ropes and cables which they pulled in to raft up the two skyships hull to hull. Jupiter’s guard shoved him forward.
‘Hey. Come on,’ Jupiter said with frustration. ‘Just tell me where…’
‘No talk.’ The guard nudged him towards the bridge structure where the captain and the Air Lord sat on benches. No cushions here Jupiter noted.
As he entered the shadow of the bridge his guard pushed him again, he stumbled. As Jupiter fell forward, he ducked his head and rolled onto his shoulder with a thump. He sucked air then as his hands and arms were crushed between his body and deck. The guard seemed disappointed he had not been hurt.
‘Marine-captain.’ The Air Lord’s voice rang out harsh and commanding. ‘Do not spoil my hunt. Give it some water. The mammal has probably pissed itself dry by now.’
A chorus of manisaur yipping laughter rose in response, but at least Jupiter got a cup of water, and his hands cut free in order to drink. The guard kicked at him, Jupiter dodged, and smiled when the manisaur stumbled. The Air Lord glowered at the marine-captain for the barest second and then returned to his conversation.
Tharumiyo remained out of sight. The Air Lord spoke instead with another officer in similar feathered finery as the Air Lord, but more subdued. A cape made of small colorful glinting fur-feathers hung over one shoulder. Under that, and across his breast, lay a cross bracer of red and green straps hung with badges of rank. Jupiter guessed then — the skyfort’s captain. He briefly stood when another manisaur entered the bridge but soon returned to their padded bench. Jupiter raised himself to a seated position and rubbed his hands together. He glanced at the marine-captain expecting another kick or prod — but his guard stared distracted at the new arrival. Jupiter followed his gaze.
This manisaur wore a black coat, and held a staff with bright blue feathers that shimmered in the subtle movements of his hands, almost as if in the flashing motion they signaled some message. Jupiter had learned that manisaurs used visual communication on many levels, but most too subtle for him to catch. He guessed this could be more of the same. Iridescent bands of color shone on his shoulders as he walked in sunlight, and then the flashes faded to a subtle sheen within the shadow of the bridge.
The new arrival nodded to the Air Lord first then the captain. ‘I am First Officer Vishvasalana, lately of The Hasmiqaram under Captain Hasmiqaram Sanaqarup.’
‘Very good Vishvasalana.’ The Air Lord greeted the officer with a bobble of his head. ‘You know Captain Hantiviqu Lashuptulan here of this worthy skyfort The Hantiviqu. How come you to command a skycutter? And to be here?’
Jupiter held his breath. Vishvasalana — Faithful-Waters. The turncoat Navy Officer who had taken some zharaqsa catalyst gems from him.
Somehow the manisaur had found him. Jupiter had jokingly called him Dahk — a playful version of Dhakara — leader. But now that seemed all wrong. Dahk projected a commanding presence in front of the Air Lord entirely different to the officer that had met him prior to the attack on Vanukam. But Jupiter also recalled him as the stern officer who had captured Qhawana on Black Spire Island, almost as if he embodied two manisaurs within one person.
Dahk — First Officer Vishvasalana — told the Air Lord about the chaos of the attack on Vanukam and how he had commandeered a skycutter and taken off in pursuit of stolen skyships fleeing the Narushkam. No word of rebels, and Jupiter he ignored entirely. Jupiter breathed a little easier.
Dahk spoke also of how a faltering zharaqsa flight-engine had brought him and his skyship to the coast after the storm where they had worked their way along the shore heading for a qhayuvakdha — sentinel path.
The last term confused Jupiter. Sentinel meant a lookout. How could a lookout be a path? Unless it referred to the road that led to a sentinel lookout post. That made more sense.
When Jupiter returned his attention to the conversation he caught Dahk staring at him. Jupiter recalled then the imprinting the Air Lord had discussed, and how Dahk claimed to be a rebel because his imprinting had failed. But how long did the effect last for? Had Dahk been turned again?
But Dahk flicked his attention back to the Air Lord and the ship’s captain.
‘As you see, we refit our consort.’ Captain Hantiviqu Lashuptulan said. ‘But progress is slow and our zharaqsa fails too. Damn those rebels for destroying our flight-works just when we were under replenishment.’
‘Indeed.’ The Air Lord put a harsh emphasis on the word, as if it had only four letters. Jupiter could almost hear the raptor accent of his native language underlying it. The Air Lord paused and continued in a more measured tone. ‘The quarter-masters will pay for this. But at least the rebels only destroyed the works, and did not take any gems.’
Jupiter hid a smile of satisfaction then.
‘How lit is your zharaqsa?’ Captain Hantiviqu Lashuptulan stood to level his gaze with Dahk’s as if he felt intimidated by the height difference when seated.
‘Just under half, Captain.’
‘Better than most. You are fortunate.’ The Air Lord stretched.
‘Yes, Air Lord.’
Jupiter saw the Air Lord’s discomfort, that he didn’t like the bench, even if padded. The others took no note. He wondered if some things were invisible to manisaurs, that as a lowly mammal he sensed things they did not. People often saw only what they wished to see.
‘So only the one zharaqsa?’ the captain asked evenly.
‘Regrettably, Captain Hantiviqu.’
‘Well Vishvasalana,’ The Air Lord’s gaze did not waver as if he tried to see any untruth in Dahk’s words or aura.
But manisaurs did not lie. Jupiter realized Dahk must only have the one catalyst gem, and had offloaded the others. Or did the imprecision of the question leave room for a half-truth? Only one zharaqsa on the skycutter? Perhaps the other remained in Dahk’s pocket.
‘If you are to host me and my party on your vessel, we had best promote you. Now full captain — Nakhevaqum Vishvasalana.’
‘You are generous Air Lord. I do my duty only.’
Jupiter understood then that Dahk had received the name of his vessel the same way Peter had become Jupiter. Peter had been the boy from Lyttleton — long gone now.
‘I commend your initiative on the night of the attacks. Few enough of us were prepared, even though the fleet should not have been in port for the storm.’
‘The weather-masters failed us there, Air Lord.’
‘Captain Hantiviqu Lashuptulan.’ The Air Lord stopped the conversation, and took an overlong pause. Jupiter sensed a tension in the air. ‘Captain Hantiviqu. Complete your assistance of your brother commander’s recovery of the Lankharuqo — Battle Echo. Such an appropriate name for the ruins of a perfectly good skyfort.’
‘Yes Air Lord,’ said Captain Hantiviqu.
Lashuptulan — Jupiter heard the meaning of Sharp Lake in the name. But also a sense related to deep waters and strong intellect. Hantiviqu — Serene Sanctuary… He shook his head to focus on what happened before him.
The movement drew Dahk’s attention back to him, and this time the Air Lord’s as well. Even seated on the deck Jupiter felt exposed under the hooded gaze of the two manisaurs.
‘I am planning a hunt. This curious mammal shall join the late-captain of the skyfort Lankharuqo. His failure under battle deserves this discipline. And you, Captain Nakhevaqum Vishvasalana, shall provide the field.’
‘Air Lord?’ Dahk said the name as both an acknowledgement and as a question.
‘My honour-guard and I shall transfer to your skycutter Captain Nakhevaqum. And we shall have a hunt. I know just the place. The Naru’Qhayuvakadharavi.’
Jupiter’s mind spun. He heard manisaur burble-pops and quardle-oodles… but his mind rang with the human language Thaluk and the meaning — sixth sentinel path.
‘Naru’qhayuvakdha,’ Dahk said. ‘Understood. In this wind the opening to The Way is less than three hours by Gharumal haulage along the coast.’
‘Good. The hunt can begin mid-afternoon.’ The Air Lord seemed excited as he turned to Jupiter’s captor. ‘Prepare them guard-captain.’
‘Air Lord.’ The guard-captain pulled Jupiter to his feet.
Jupiter glanced over at Dahk. The manisaur ignored him and Jupiter wondered how he lied so well. And to the Air Lord too. Perhaps he had not got it right. Could manisaurs lie?’
As the guard-captain led him away he heard the Air Lord continue.
‘Captain Nakhevaqum. We will of course have to renew your crew’s loyalty to me and the Emperor.’
‘As you wish. Air Lord.’ Dahk said. ‘We are your faithful servants.’
The guard-captain made a strange gurgle deep in his chest before almost strangling himself as he swallowed the reaction down. After composing himself the guard-captain lead Jupiter off.
‘Captain Hantiviqu Lashuptulan.’ The Air Lord’s voice trailed off as Jupiter walked away. ‘Arrange enough crew to transfer over to complete Captain Nakhevaqum Vishvasalana’s complement.’
Jupiter glanced up to see the guard-captain’s aura, to see what the gurgle meant. But all he got for his interest was a shove in the back that once more sent him staggering to recover.
‘Touchy aren’t we?’ Jupiter guessed the guard-captain was excited for the hunt. ‘But you had better be nice to me like the Air Lord asks.’ To hide his mounting fear Jupiter grinned at the guard-captain, who raised his hand to cuff him but thought better of it.
A knot grew in the pit of Jupiter’s gut. Even with Dahk on board he felt alone. And did Dahk remain a rebel? Jupiter knew now of the loyalty imprinting process, the potion. But would Dahk turn now?
Jupiter had not felt more alone since the first day on Black Spire. But back then he had no idea there of any danger, that he walked on an alien planet, about to be hunted like an animal. He thought again about the gurgling excitement of the guard-captain. No amount of smiles would hide the fact…
‘I’m dead meat.’