|
|
|
|
|
"The Fourth Option" by Phil Tortorici Race week at King’s Mountain was always a colourful affair, and this season’s first event was no exception. The mud-bogging was in full...mudding, and there was the smell of exhaust fumes mixing in with the cheap food, and with the excitement of the crowd. Between announcements from the public address system, over out of some stage, somewhere, he could hear snippets of the "Apotecosi Del Mistero" being performed live. These locals had a sense of history. The fairgrounds had acheived that carnival feel with row after row of brightly coloured pavilion tenting, complete with streetmongers hawking their wares to the passing crowds. He stopped to purchase a programme, and was off- threading his way past the waxing and waning flow of spectators, in various stages of sobriety and dress- or undress, as it was quite warm today. The man made his way to the mews, where the mechanics and drivers were working to prepare their machines for the next event. Showing his agent’s credentials to the security guard at the gate, he was admitted to the infield, and walked the rows of make-shift garages, until he found the three of them. It was definitely them. The information that he had bought was indeed correct. Before he would talk with them, he would have to observe them first. He took up a shaded position, and watched. Through his binoic eye he could see the three of them, working during a break between qualifying heats. The brown haired-one in the tanker shirt and carapace leggings, must be the cyclist. Ther was a seche laziliy smoking in one hand; she was handing tools to another, who was working under a stock-class extra heavy cycle. Though it was heavily modified, he could pick out the disguised, yet familiar form, of a space marine battle bike. He smiled. The cyclist was short and fairly robust, and the years she spent as a novice had done nothing to hurt her appearance. No visible discipline scars. A bandana tied around her left bicep hid the tattoo of her order; he observed that under her sweat- stained top, she wasn’t wearing a binder. "Another good habit forgotten," he thought. The woman covered in lubricant, under, then over, then under again, the bike, was obvious the mechanic of the trio. Convent life, or life on the circuit ("...on the run?") appeared to be wearing on her. Or was it the rush to fix the bike before the next heat. He couldn’t tell from this distance. There were tension lines around her eyes and the temples of her buzz cut were slightly greyed. She too, was in a sleeveless top, and had some sort of bandage over her tattoo. The third- a black haired thin woman- the youngest of the the three- had the traditional sister’s hair cut. ("Bold, or foolish....") The ex-novice could easily pass for male, dressed in the bulky fatiques of a track-side chirugeon. She looked the least comfortable of the three. While her two companions worked on the cycle, her dark eyes were busy taking in the faces of all the passer -bys. She seemed to be expecting someone and this visibly bothered her. She was already through her third seche and was lighting up a fourth. Hopefully Wallis would be able to help them. A commision from a courrier houshold was now out of the question, with the sighting of Ali, a few cycles ago. It took a certain amount of fortitude to race a purloined marine bike on the hill climb circuit, and also use your pre-novitiate identies. The information on the massacre in the official report -dated almost a year ago- said that there were no survivors. They were obviously wrong on this account. Wallis had first heard of the three ex-novices through rumours on the hillclimb circuit, and then through some digging on his own. It was now obvious that others were privy to this information. Some tech priest wanted to purify the spirit of those bikes real bad to hire bounty hunters. Nobody had holes blown in them... yet. After the recovery of their missing property, the women would surely be turned over to the Inquisition; and he was dead sure of that. Pettianne would be very disappointed to find out that she would not be racing at King’s Mountain this season. Of course, she wouldn’t be flayed alive by Inquisitors, either. "... And the man who arranged their escape would surely be cursed by the three." He smiled at that thought. But all that mattered now was that they would be remain alive. For now. There were no guarantees after that. The three had spirit. A familiar presence broke his train of thought. "Dear Pologne, what have you discovered for me this day? " Wallis turned to face the dimunitive man who had slinked up to his side. "Master, it is as you had feared. The Mirazadeh gang is on-planet and they look for the missing equipment. It will not be long before they "schedule the interview.’" "Fine. We have to ‘interview’ first. Send the ladies my calling card and invite them to dine and discuss with me this evening. If they are as the others are on this circuit, they must be anxiuosly expecting an offer or two. Make the rest of preparations, as planned. Are you positive that a representative of Kaptain Vindammer was in port?" The lackey nodded his head in aggreement. "I will contact him personally. I am sure that we will have much business to discuss before dinner. And escort them personally over to the resto. Perhaps Ali will show some ‘professional courtesy’...eh? Pologne looked at his employer with concern. "Yes, dear Pologne, even though we owe them nothing, they shall be. And no good deed goes unpunished. Be off now; and make your arrangements." Wallis waved him off with the back of his hand. "I wish to spend some time alone with my thoughts of what I must do and what is to come." Pologne, smiled a black-toothed smile, and was off. His employer fancied the dramatic. "This wouldn’t be too much trouble," thought Wallis, "Ali and his benefactors would get what they wanted: but with no bonuses on this deal." He turned his bionic eye back towards the three, and smiled deeply to himself. The rider and mechanic were argueing over some mechanical bits from the engine. The medic still looked into the crowd. Searching and, smoking. She knew. He was sure of that. ---------------------------- Pettianne could barely contain herself as she flashed the calling card to the others. "Mannie...I told you that this was going to work. First King’s Mountain, and then a courier route..." Tears started to appear in the corners of her eyes. "Grandpere, he would be... proud..." The cyclist reached out and hugged the chirugeon, who stiffened in resistance to the embrace. Pettianne hugged her even harder. Then she looked over at Ruby, and her eyes pleaded for some help to convince Mannie. "Ruby, didn’t I tell you that this was going to work? Didn’t I say that?" "Yes, yes, you did...you said that nobody would question us about being gone...the orks..refugees...seven years...yeah. Ruby’s look turned skeptical. "It isn’t a done deal, yet, girl." Pettianne let go of Mannie, walked over to Ruby, and took her by the arms; looking the mechanic in the eyes. "Its a start...its gonna be alright...I told you- both of you..." She started to choke a bit on the emotion. Looking back at Mannie, she said, to comfort her , "Immanuellla, we’’ll work it out...I promise. I promised both of you. Where one goes, so do we all. By the grace of the Emperor?" She hoped this plea to the Emperor would calm her fears. Mannie had remained the most pious out of the three- except for that smoking habit. She was really content with being a novice of the Hospitaliers order. She was anticipating the taking of her final vows. The siege at the abbey changed all of this. Now, she felt she was doing the Emperor’s work just to keep the three of them on His path. And in this secular world of racing, this was a monumental task. Those last moments at the abbey had shaken her faith, badly, and in that moment of weakness, she decided to bail out with the rest of them. She had was nothing left to do there, anyway. "The Emperor sees fit to bless us today, at this occasion. We dedicate ourselved to succeed in His name." Mannie intoned, and she bowed her head in reluctant aggreement. "Blessed be the Emperor, " they replied, "He watches us and we gloify His name, though our actions." But in her heart, Manuela knew that it wasn’t going to go the way it was planned. --------------------------------- The three arrived at the resto a little late. Race week at King’s Mountain was a crowded affair, and the three had been accosted several times on the way into town. On the stage, a local band was stumbling through a version of "Hero and Heroine" and only the keyboardist seemed to be getting it right. The dinner crowd was too drunk to notice otherwise. It was good to be back to real life. The lady behind the bar called over a server to let the partron know that his party had arrived. Pologne soon came over, bowed and escorted the ladies over to the booth, and when they entered he drew the curtain closed and stood watch outside. Hopefully Ali and friends wouldn’t interrupt their soiree. The band started to play "the Waltz of the Dark Riddle". It seemed oddly appropriate, tonight. --------------------------------- The dinner started easily enough. Beverages and finger foods were ordered and Wallis discussed hill climb trivia with two of the three of the girls. Mannie, as always, seemed distant, and at unease. Wallis noticed this and tried to address it. "Mse. Artola, please forgive me for excluding you from our conversation, here. I take it that you are not a racer, then?" He had already known this, but was trying to engage her in conversation, and build up some sort of rapport. This would be crucial later on in the evening. " I can see by your badge that you are a chirugien. Where did- excuse me- when did you get into the field?" No embarassing questions tonight. "Have you been doing this for long?" Pettianne and Ruby were talking among themselves and drinking lightly . The formal opening business ritual had not been performed, yet. But all four of them were eating and drinking lightly in anticipation of the ritual. Just as Wallis expected. " I have just been reinstated into the Chirugien’s Guild, thank you. My papers had been destroyed in the Orkoid Invasion and I had to take all of the exams again. I was only able to do this after my refugee status was revoked. I teamed up with these two..." Mannie motioned with her glass over at the others. She smiled weakly. "... afterwards. They helped to support me through the review, and I helped to patch them up from time to time. And others." "In my inquiries, I have found you to be a very important asset to the circuit. It would be their loss were you to go ‘household’." At this compliment, Mannie again smiled weakly. She did not appear happy to be here. Wallis furrowed his brow and asked his next question. "Normally I only negotiate for riders and mechanics. You realize that having you as part of the ‘package’...well, it complicates things a bit." Pettianne cut in at this point. She had obviously heard the question. "Listen. Mr Wallis..." "Please call me, Rudolph...." "Mr. Wallis. Three of us, or none of us" Pettianne was risking the whole deal, with this stance, but she felt obligated to include Mannie in her future. It had been Pettianne’s fault that Mannie was here, and the cyclist was trying to make it up to her. "Pettianne, of course, I shall see to it that your associate will find a position, in organization I represent. I cannot, of course, guarantee that the three of you will be serving at the same sub- station. Since loyality is so prized by those who serve the Emperor," The four bowed their heads in respect. "and since I also admire that quality in you, I attempt to broker a deal for the three of you. You will all serve together." This he knew, for sure. Wallis wasn’t sure that Mannie had picked up both meanings, as well. She still looked uneasy. -------------------------------- Wallis started the business ritual with the wiping of the ceremonial cups with the prayer shawl, and the blessing of the negotiation wine. As the only business representative present, it was his duty to lead the three in the opening chants and responses. This went on for a good ten/ twelve minutes before they were able to get to the main meal. Wallis guessed that it was about fourty five minutes after the four of them started drinking and sociallizing. The hypno-drug that Pologne had atomized in all of the glasses should be well into their systems by now. Hypnodi-ethyline was illegal for private citizens to use in business transactions , or even to possess. The drug opened the user up to suggestion and to conditioning; its use was widespresd in the various training regiments of the elite troops of the Imperium. He suspected that Pettianne and Ruby didn’t get enough of it in their initiation. Any contracts found to have been negotiated under the influence were automatically nullified. This contract, unfortunately, was a matter of life and death and there was no time for lenghtly explanations. The ‘signees’ had to move fast, to avoid detection. The three girls’ eyes appeared to be a little more glazed then would be normal for the amount they had imbided this evening. It was time for a test. Wallis reached for the salt cellar, and shook a little over his meal. He looked over at Mannie. "Mannie? May I call you ‘Mannie’?" She nodded in approval. "It looks like you meal could use a bit of salt" He passed the cellar over to her. She accepted and started to shake it- with a slight look of concern- over her food. "Keep going, " he said, "I will tell you when to stop." She continued to salt her food, and was a bit more accepting of this odd behaviour. About fifteen seconds later, he had her stop and put it down. During that time he tested the pliability of the other two. "Ruby, you look real thirsty. Why don’t you drink your drink and Pettianne’s." She complied, willingly. "Now all of you, raise your left hands in the air." The three obeyed but Wallis could see that Mannie was fighting this. At this point he couldn’t tell if it was willingly, or unwillingly. "Allright, put them down. Pettianne, gently place your left index finger into Mannie’s ear. Yes, that one." Without hesitation, Pettianne did what she was asked. It seemed perfectly normal to her to do this; Mannie flinched slightly, but allowed this to happen. She was glancing over at Pettianne, with confusion. Wallis smiled. "Success, so far," he thought. Putting his professional look back on his face, he then had Pettianne remove the offending digit. "You and Ruby, talk about torsion bar set-ups and the like," he said, " I will back to you later. And keep your voices down." They obeyed. He now turned his full attention to Mannie, who was wiping off her ear, with a serviette. "Mannie, I know that you can hear me and I know that you suspect something. You are correct. Now I have to enlist your aid. I know who you were, and where you were." The ex-novice’s eyes dilated in acknowledgement and fear. "I have no intentions of turning you and the others in; listen to me...there are others who do. An ‘interiview’ has been scheduled for you by some agents hired to recover your bikes. I can tell by your reaction that you have been anticipating this moment. Do not panic. My confederate and I have arranged for you three, transport away from these people; a contract with another firm; far from here- away from the direct influence of the Inquistion. I do admire the loyalty that you three have for each other, and your spirit for trying to make new lives for yourself. I am losing a good commision to do this, but I see no point in sacrificing your lives to purify a couple of machines. I need you to cooperate with me- for the sake of the others- on this. Do you understand?" Mannie nodded in reluctant approval. "May the Emperor bless us all in our undertaking, " he said, hoping that he had won her over. Wallis had told her the truth, but not the awful truth. This, the three would learn later. Much later. "Seche?" Mannie, relaxed a bit from this suggestion, and took one from Wallis’ case. She smiled, and struck it. She seemed to be turning to his side. It was time to make his move. "Pettianne. You do not look well, at all. Doesn’t she, Mannie." Mannie, nodded, adding, "That rich food just didn’t agree with the apertif. I warned you about mixing...." "That’s good, Mannie. Don’t embelish." He sighed. "Ruby." She looked up at Wallis- alert. You go with Pologne to the mews and collect all of your personal gear. And bring a travelling tool kit. Mannie, you help Pettianne out of the booth and follow me. Pettianne, you look like you need to be helped out of the booth." Parting the curtain slightly, Wallis whispered to his lackey, "Pologne. It is time. I hoped you enjoyed the show. You will gentlemanly accompany this lady to the mews, help her with her things, and meet me over at the port. Their destiny, awaits. Be gone." Wallis waited for those two to be off before he lead his two out of the resto. The three would bring a fair price, as they were skilled, and those skills were in demand. And they would leave here alive, and be far away from here, in a few hours. He was glad that he wasn’t going to be around when they awoke. Wallis kept his promises as best as he could. --------------------------------
"...Why are we hiring m’zonnes?" "Don’t know. The first one we rescued worked out just fine. Maybe, the Kaptain, he likes tall ones..." The two guards watched over the three sleeping prisoners. They were laid out on the deck of the airlock hold- their duffel bags in use as pillows. "Pah! These are bondugardes; don’t you know. Just like Snow..." "Yes, but if they are with us, then there must have been some trouble at home." There was movement on the deck. One of the guards drew his laspistol. "They’re starting to wake; buzz the Kaptain. I wonder how they’ll take the ‘new recruit’ speech." The other went over to the communicator on the wall of the hold and called in. He then drew his laspistol and joined the other guard.. "Betcha a ‘yard’ that they go quietly..." "Yer on, matey" Mannie was the first to open her eyes- ever so slowly. She wasn’t focusing on anything in particular in the dimly lit room, as her head seemed heavier than usual. So did her arms, for that matter, and the rest of her upper body, as she hoisted herself into a sitting position. It felt like she was moving underwater, but she wasn’t wet- and not very buoyant. She heard low voices off to her left, and turned, in slow motion, to face them. "Ah. I see you have finally joined us. Good. You will not be able to move as normal; normal for you- that is- for a while. You will adjust to the feeling soon enough." A short man in an officer’s uniform filled her eyes. A very short man, with a neatly trmmed beard and powerful eyes. He had the bearing of a man-in-charge. Two others, just like him, stood behind him, in soldier’s fatiques. These two also had beards, and each had a drawn laspistol sidearm- at their sides, but ready. At least they weren’t pointing the guns at her. The officer motioned to one of them to roust the other two women. The guard holstered his pistol and moved over to help Pettianne and Ruby into sitting positions. Mannie could only see Ruby, from where she sat, and by the look of her, she was having the same troubles as her. The other guard was now watching the three with much more intent. The officer continued. "Ladies. Welcome to the Forgeron Alliance merchant trader- "The Carbon Miranda". I am the ship’s captain, Hoek Vindammer, and you now officially welcomed to my crew, as new recruits. ("What?") The details will be explained to you at later time. For now, you need to get your ‘ship legs’ and become accustomed to moving around in higher gravity. The ‘Miranda’ will be your home for a while. Stand up. Slowly. And watch your heads." Questions filled Mannie’s mind as to her new situation. But the only word’s she was able to utter were, "You’re ‘stunties’ ; aren’t you?" And just as quickly, she wished that she hadn’t said that. The captain’s counternance grew darker as she asked that question. "We prefer for you to refer to us as ‘Squats’, "he said, icily, "as that is the coloquial that has been used since the Age of Rediscovery. However you and yours had better be smiling when you use that term, or there will be trouble. And as for me, the term you will use is ‘Kaptain, sir!’ " The two guards snickered at that. The captain turned and shot them a glance, and they quieted, stood back up at attention. Vindammer sighed, and turned back to the three. His expression was a little less severe. "Perhaps now is a good time to do a little explaining. Ordinarily, I would have had you flogged... " More snickers came from behind him. A small smile broke across the captain’s face when he said this, "... by now, but the Forgeron Alliance does not normally receive conscripts in this fashion. You are a special case. I am sure that you know Commander Wallis..." ‘Commander Wallis?’ Vindammer could see from the girl’s reaction that he had their rapt attention. There is always more than one way to solve a problem. He continued. "...Wallis and I served in the PFMC together, and he needed a favour..." "Wallis was a PF?", thought Pettianne, whose head was starting to clear about this time. "I had heard that they had all died in the chaos war." "...He informed me- through an agent- that he had found some replacement crew-if I needed them- and then asked that that I take you even if I didn’t need you. Wallis described your skills- which I can use- and your loyality to each other- which is a quality that we prized in PF. I am sure that I can make use of you somewhere in the roster. And besides, his commission wasn’t that outrageous...." "We were sold?!" Pettianne’s mind screamed at the thought. She launched herself at the captain. Of course, her attack would have been more successful had she attacked him in a one graviity situation. But the Carbon Miranda was operating at a little less than a typical Homeworld gravity, but at more gravity than she was used to. At one and a half gees, her attack took on an almost comical slow-mo effect, as the captain smartly stepped aside, letting her pass. Pettianne did manage to strike out a single blow at him as she passed; this was blocked by a blue-gauntleted hand, which arched with energy as it contacted her arm. She fell, stunned, to the floor, breathing heavily, and twitching in slow-mo, as well. Ruby and Mannie started to react, and move towards her, and the pistols of the guards moved up to a position to convince them to keep back. Vindammer bent over Pettianne and effortlessly picked her up and placed her into a sitting position, then stepped back. "I would have been disappointed, had one of you not tried this. Wallis also admired your spirit." The captain paused for a second. " Oh, and don’t any of you ever try this again or you will find yourselves walking back home." The captain came to attention and saluted the three. The guards came to attention, as well, and returned the salute to the captain. Ruby and Mannie clumsly stood up and returned the salute- tenously. They were obviously confused. Pettianne managed a half-hearted attempt, from her sitting position, as her arm was still numb from the blow with the stun-glove. She felt clammy all over. Kaptain Vindammer, turned on his heel, and left the airlock, muttering something about how Wallis was going to owe him big for this. The rest was lost as he stalked down the hall. The guards were left standing in the airlock, looking crossly at the girls. "Well, get your dainties, ladies, and follow Reine, here. I will follow up behind you to be sure that there will be no more trouble. Then again, now, where would ye go anyway? And mind yer heads; this ship wasn’t built for you m’zonnes. Kaptain’s got someone you need to ‘meet and greet’ in the rec area, before we get you to duty. Seem’s like he wants you to adjust out well, and all." Ruby helped Pettianne to her feet and grabbed Pettianne’s duffel bag. Mannie picked up the other two bags and started down the hall ,first, after the squat crewman. Ruby caught up with Mannie; Pettianne was rubbing her arm and followed up the two. Out of the three recruits, only Pettianne managed to bang her head against a low pipe, much to the trailing crewman’s amusement. Mannie looked over at Ruby and said flattly, "Well, I guess there was a fourth option, after all- wasn’t there now?" "Shut up. Immanuella," was Ruby’s only response. --------------------------- The rec area was a partitioned-off section of the main hold. Reine motioned for the the three to go inside. "You’ll figure out who ye need ta see," was all he said. When the other guard joined Reine, he elbowed him knowingly. Reine looked disgusted. A few of the off-duty squat crewmen looked up from their drinks to acknowledge the three, but the attitude of the room remained apathetic. Three human females in the middle of an all- male Squat ship didn’t seem to phase them at all. Ruby was the first to guess why. Over to her right, and seated at a makeshift gaming table with a few other Squats, was another human female. She was a head taller than everyone else at the table, and was laughing, drinking, and smoking with the rest of them. The girls snaked their way through the crowd of chest-high males to the woman. This woman had hair the same colour and styled as Mannie, and when it was pointed out to her that the three were staring dumbly at the back of her head, she turned to greet them. Part of her face was scarred; Mannie guessed that it was burned in some sort of accident, from the way it had healed. The scarring didn’t affect her mood though; she was playing some sort of tile game with the others, and apparently was losing. "You pirates will have to wait until later to steal the rest of my coin, " she said. She then tossed a few credits down on the table, gathered her drink and seches and turned to ‘meet and greet’ the three. On this woman’s bicep was the unmistakable tattoo announcing to the world that she was a member of the Adeptus Sorroritas. It was now becoming clearer to the three why they were here, on this ship. Though not much clearer. Ruby wondered what a member of the Sorroritas was doing socializing with these ‘aliens.’ "Kaptain Vindammer told me that you’d be here; I didn’t expect novices, though." The three novices gave no response save blank stares to the sister. " Is this how your Adeptus training began?" said the sister with a trace of annoyance. "Look. We are holding up commerce here. We’ll grab a table to ourselves, and sort this out." On the way over to an empty table, a crewman was heard to mutter, "There goes the Homeworld..." The sister shot him a rude gesture and lead her charges through the crowd. The Squat just smiled and went back to his drink. "These guys are allright- for MUTANTS-" She emphasised that for all around to hear. A couple of low responses and half-serious glances followed that comment. "As long as you pull your own weight, you’ll have no trouble with the bulk of them. By the way, my name is Whiteney, but everyone calls me ‘Snow White’; don’t ask- its a long story; I’ll tell ya later. We’ll have time, fer sure, because you’re my new bunkmates." She looked into their disbelieving eyes, again. This wasn’t going to be easy. "Lucky me...", Whiteney intoned. "Have a seat... set down your load...do you mind if I light up; this is one of the few places on-board where we can do so safely." Mannie pulled out a pack of seches and Snow’s eyes lit up. "Can I have one of them?", she asked eagerly. "I haven’t had an Imperium seche in ages..." Mannie offered her one. The introductions went quite well after that. Ruby was the first to ask the begging question- "How did you get here?" "These guys saved me from the massacre on Yardbird’s Dream. Actually, it was my battlesisters that caused the massacre. Remember that flamers in use around ship refueling tanks is a bad thing. " Snow said this as she stroked one of the scars on her face. " From what the boys here could piece together, the atmosphere on Yardbird’s Dream had a tendency to bring up repressed memories..." She could see the confused look in their eyes. "I didin’t understand it either. Our order didn’t take the precautions that normal visitors would take, and we blew up the place in our collective paranoia...." Mannie looked the shocked, out of the three, at Snow’s statement. In all of the years that Mannie had been in the priory, she had never heard one of her own refer to the Order as paranoid. Snow sensed this. In fact, she expected as much. The conditioning in Mannie was stronger, appeared to be stronger than in the other two. "Mannie, you were a imperial’ s child...weren’t you?" No response. "Sussed it. You mates there have the look of the ‘Blessed Urchins’. I was one, too. Reclaimed me out of a street gang, they did. " Snow’s eyes started to get misty. "Excuse me...I should not think ill of my ancestors. You know, the Squats that found me patched me up and gave me a chance to earn my keep. Who would do that for a potential enemy? Would those of the Sororitas have done the same? These aliens demonstated tolerance and respect - and the respect I had to earn. We have to prove that we are worthy of this respect for each other, each day. But then you already know about that, from your indoctrination. And you will learn about earning respect here, soon enough. Air isn’t free, y’know...." "Skill-based respect and tolerance? That’s all there is to it?", Ruby asked.
" It’s that simple. You ladies want a refill on those drinks?", said Snow, getting up from the table. "Too much sentimentality makes me dry. ‘Learn the lessons from the past, or you’ll be repeating it’. I’m buying." She smiled a crooked smile. "Don’t ever try to drink these guys under the table. Squats don’t have a ‘bottom’. And they brew this stuff fresh." The sister picked up the mugs and shuffled off to the bar.
Pettianne swore softly to her self. "Well, if skill is what they admire, at least I’m going to be back on a bike. I think." "Any thoughts?" , she asked weakly. "It seems that Wallis didn’t lie to us," answered Ruby. "We’re here- wherever that is- together. May our faith keep us strong." All three girls bowed their heads, and intoned the response and beat out the word’s rhthym on their chests, in unison. Snow returned with four mugs- dripping with foam. "Did I miss mealtime prayers again?" The three girls looked up hatefully the sister, after that remark. "Sorry. Meant no offense. Now, we’re all on the same side, and all. The Inquisition was right- the urchins are too secular to be saintly." Snow, set the mugs down, and set herself down. " We down these, and then go off to my cell to stow your gear. It’s in another part of the hold. Y’know, I am a little tall for their bunks." She took a big swallow of ale. "And because of you, I don’t have pull deck duty next shift. Praise the Emperor. And learn to smile. Our stuntie keepers have a wry wit. You’ll get to appreciate that, too." Snow smiled, and took another swallow. The girls followed her lead. Mannie started to brighten, a liitle. After they finished the round, the four were off to learn the ship and what was to be expected of them in return for their new life. It wasn’t much different then being sequestered in the priory, expect it was a lot less painful. With the exception of the low ceilings, of course. |
