‘What was that?’

Jupiter turned at the voice of the other prisoner. Under their hooded head their head now directed at him as if he could see through the fabric.

‘You said something. What can you see?’

‘Just the skyforts, away down the coast,’ Jupiter said. ‘Or thought I saw them.’ He cast his gaze back along the railing and beyond to where they had left the skyforts under repair. He could almost imagine them there, but with no sail raised and in the faltering light he could not see anything.

‘You would have sharp eyes indeed for a human to see them at this remove.’ The prisoner slumped down once more.

Jupiter took in the coast again but could see nothing of the phantom skyship.

He returned to the mast, easing the tension on the rope bound to his wrist, and leaned back. ‘I guess we will not be hunted today,’ said Jupiter.

‘A night hunt perhaps.’

‘You’re an optimist I take it.’

‘No. Indeed not.’

Jupiter sighed. Sarcasm was pointless with manisaurs when they took everything presented at face value as the truth. He smiled at the double meaning.

Tharumiyo had been such a strange one to deal with for that very reason. He seemed to be more human, but more alien as well.

It fell full dark now, and a chill rose in the air. Fruit and water left for them lay close by, but the other prisoner had no way to eat it. They did not release his hood, or hands. Jupiter brought food to his mouth with bound hands, and drink from the ceramic water bottle, but he remained hungry.

The Air Lord wanted him fed, and fit, but not too much.

In time Jupiter fell asleep. He would never have believed he could get bored waiting for death. But it happened.

Jupiter and the former captain were dragged awake, brought down below decks by the guard-captain who pushed them into a pair of cells.

‘Lucky you. Hunt is tomorrow. One more night to think on your fate.’

The sweet dank smell of animal filled the air. Jupiter was not sure if he was in the brig, or an animal pen. In the dark Jupiter could not see what lay on the floor, so he wedged himself against the corner of the cell and tried to sleep sitting up.

He failed.

And spent some hours thinking of improvements to The Jupiter, of what he would say to Maggie. And how he might explain his absence when he, or if he, got home. He doubted now that he could ever return to Earth.

He fell asleep but woke up to a crashing thump, and the stamping cries of the crew. In the mayhem of noise from the deck above he heard fighting, the ringing of blade upon blade, and the call for regrouping for battle.

Several times manisaurs ran the length of the corridor outside his cell.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

‘Hey, what’s happening. Let me out.’ Jupiter kicked and hit at the door. He hoped the rebels might attempt to rescue him. But no one came.

A huge screeching cry rang out, a battlecry. But he heard the cries — ‘Retreat. Back to the skyship.’

Not one voice, instead an echoing cry repeated throughout the ship. More banging and scraping and then relative silence. The cries of manisaurs brought to order by their squad leaders. A role call.

Then came a silence broken by the occasional screech cut short even as it fell away.

Jupiter guessed the skyfort had been attacked, and had fought off the rebels after some loss of crew. That the rebels had come so close, but not found him, frustrated him. All because he could not do anything about it locked up. He kicked at the cell door. He had always thought he was on his own. No one would come to save him. But perhaps Gan, or Qhawana, or Tamm, had somehow arranged to rescue him.

Except no one came to rescue him, or even searched below deck. A ridiculous thought he knew. To think they might have even attempted a rescue. How could they even know he had been locked up here, on a different vessel to the one has had crashed into. Gan and his skyfort rebel crew did not know anything about Dahk’s skycutter.

Could it have been a skyfort even? Such a large vanziyaq would have overwhelmed the smaller skycutter and captured the whole vessel? Except the rebels did not have much crew, while the Air Lord’s honour guard crammed the skycutter to almost overflowing. A hand-picked crew had perhaps been enough to fight off any skyfort boarders.

Who had attacked and why? The battle had been short. Why had they given up so fast?

The night dragged on with no more activity. No one visited until morning, when a guard slammed the door open and dragged him on deck. A different manisaur this time. Not the guard-captain he had come to know and hate. Instead another of the Air Lord’s rangy honour guards became the object of his hate as the guard returned Jupiter to the mast, and roped him to it once more.

But without the captain’s suspicion and precaution the guard tied them to a ring in the middle of the deck. The other manisaur lay there bleeding. The stink of something rotting filled his nose and he snorted to clear it. Dark stains marked the deck, spread with sand. The evidence of the battle lay obvious everywhere. Jupiter even saw a few manisaurs with ripped and torn fur-feathers. Limping crew, and a general downcast atmosphere. Almost like the changing rooms of the losing side after a rugby match.

Jupiter grinned, but tried to hide it by bowing his head to his chest like a lying manisaur.

He sensed a presence draw close then, and he controlled his expression with effort.

‘You’ll not be so happy soon, young human.’ The Air Lord’s voice rang clear and close by. Jupiter raised his head and they locked gazes. ‘I’m looking forward to some sport.’

‘Sure. When you can change the rules in your favor.’ Jupiter gave his best aura flashing glare at the Air Lord. ‘You’re nothing but a cheater.’

‘By what rules do you propose then?’ The Air Lord took a step closer and lowered his head to glare at him.

Jupiter would not be intimidated. He had moved beyond that now. ‘No ropes. I want to be able to run free. Some food and water. And an hour’s start.’

‘My thoughts exactly. A turn of the glass you say? Very well.’

‘And the same for the captain here.’

‘Oh. I have a different fate for him. He will have a start alright. A flying start.’ And the Air Lord gurgled his strange laugh.

Jupiter glanced over at the bound former captain. The manisaur did not move. The captain would not be much of a challenge. He’d given up already. Well Jupiter was determined to do better.

To his bewilderment, the guard released Jupiter and gave him the food and water he had asked for. And then they ignored him. He did not see the previous day’s guard-captain at all. It struck him then that perhaps his oppressor had fallen in the battle the previous night.

‘Good,’ Jupiter said. That he could wish death on anyone dumbfounded him a moment, and a pang of guilt shot through him. No one deserved to die. ‘And perhaps he had been imprinted.’

And the failed captain? Had he been imprinted too? The sudden change in fortune might have been too much for an imprinted loyal officer. Jupiter had a better understanding then of how the captain might feel, and horror at the imprinting process the Air Lord had used.

And Tharumiyo? Did imprinting potion get used on the rebels too? And the reality of how impossible it would be to know where anyone truly stood in all of this. Could the old-bird have used the imprinting process to create rebels? Or to turn rebels to the Empire? Had Tharumiyo been turned himself?

He did not think it likely of Tharumiyo though. He had seen how the old-bird changed when with the Air Lord. Almost as if his very nature had been revealed.

He had not seen the ‘old-bird’ for some time. Where had Tharumiyo got to now?