Chapter 2
'Is this what you dragged me away from the Palaver for?" Chris whispered furiously to Pendle, who was unhappily running her finger along a dusty rolled up turkish rug in hideous orange and blue tones.
She shook her head "Don't be a dunce, of course it's not." she bit her lip and looked very much like a lost and forlorn girl fresh out of the education system. Her companion was having none of it and instead looked almost delighted.
'Great, let's go then." He said grabbing her elbow.
"I can't." She said a little too loudly. The shopkeeper lifted his head and made movements towards them.
"We close in ten mineets missers." His thick accent was even more difficult to decipher through his thick handlebar mustache. Nothing about his attire made him look like a shopkeeper, but he'd hadn't denied them entrance to the warehouse when Pendle had brightly gushed about searching for the perfect accoutrement to her dining room.
But if Chris thought any of these obstacles would make his unwanted charge resign herself and go home, he was sadly mistaken. If anything, her eyes only got more of a spark in them and her small chin got a stubborn twist to it. Her companion noted these changes warily. "Oh come on, if you think I am going to do something completely insane like hide in a rug until everyone goes home, I'll tell you that your brain is completely fuzzed."
"I can't leave." was her logical rejoinder. The shopkeeper was closing blinds and counting the money in the cash box with so many long looks their way, it was impossible to miss his meaning. "We have ten minutes." she reminded Chris...and loudly enough for the shopkeeper to hear too.
Chris gave an exasperated sputter and followed her over to another pile of rugs that all looked like they belonged more in a thrift store or a junk shop. His fingers were itching to feel the comforting hardness of the 560 strapped to his leg, but he resisted. The hairs on the back of his neck were very annoyingly standing up despite his best attempts to convince himself that everything was fine and he'd soon be ensconced safely in the galley of the Palaver eating Serene's flax chili and getting a tongue lashing from the Captain.
Pendle discovered a new pile of rugs and was busily digging through them. The rugs were stacked up against the wall like giant rolls of paper towels...dusty paper towels. Sweaty hair stuck to her cheeks as she heaved another rug off to the side. She was getting closer, she could tell. If only she knew what she was getting closer to, it would be so much easier. Although everyone on board the Palaver treated her well enough, only the captain put any stock in her “visions” and even he was known to laugh them off with a wave of his hand “Child, when I want fairytales instead of jobs, I’ll let you know.” The others...Serene, Lee and Chris had been nervous at first when she joined the crew a few months ago. She glanced at Chris who looked about as comfortable right now as an outlaw in a church...ok, so maybe everyone was still nervous around her, but it didn’t signify.
Sometimes she wistfully wondered what it would be like to be normal. To live with the brass in one of the nice cities and have a tri-lobe class airship that you only flew if you needed to go somewhere. Vaguely she remembered that at one point in time she had lived in one of those places. Distinct flashes of memories would sometimes hit her. An indoor garden with black roses. Getting dancing lessons from a man who looked like a toad in a gold suit. But Madame Horten said that was impossible. That Pendle had lived her whole life in the Hatchway system. That she’d grown up in Tower-Eleven with the Madame and forty other wards of the Hatch. She’d probably still be there if she hadn’t begged for a job at the coffee shop in the real tower across the street. It was there that Captain Dru had found her and offered her an even better job aboard his ship the Palaver. Madame Horten hadn’t been happy about letting Pendle go, but she was up against a far more worthy opponent when it came to Captain Dru. Pendle didn’t know then that when the Captain made up his mind, you might as well give yourself up as a gentle breeze for all the good it would do you to change his mind.
As soon as her hand reached behind the last rug and felt the cool metal of a brass doorknob, she knew instantly she’d found the object of her restlessness. Serene, in an attempt to understand Pendle, had once asked how Pendle could tell when the magic would work and the best Pendle had been able to do was that it was like hearing music in your head where you knew the tune and thus could sing the next line. Well the music in her head was crescendoing like Beethoven’s fifth at the moment, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had to open the door. The door stuck for a second, like it hadn’t been used for awhile. As she pranced excitedly over the pile of rugs on the floor, she caught a glimpse of the shopkeeper coming towards them, his mouth open in horror. Curses and obscenities sprang from his mouth, as Chris stepped in front of him, his own answering string of street slang erupting effortlessly in response.
Pendle paused, looking around and trying to adjust her vision to the dim room. Something was mewing a soft little cry. A pile of fabric wiggled and for a confused second, Pendle thought she’d discovered kittens. It took awhile for it to dawn on her that a live human baby was the author of the plaintive crying noises. She took two steps towards the baby and her foot caught on something soft and warm. In horror, she realized she had tripped on another red faced infant who must have been sleeping on another pile of rags on the floor, because it was now scrunching its face into a human rendition of a squashed tomato.
Never having been at a loss for words in her life, Pendle found herself backing up with her brain searching for what to do. “Chris! Help...quick!” her voice sounded strange to her own ears, strangled, for she’d spied two more babies asleep in a cardboard box that was ripped on one side. “Chris!” she called more urgently. The symphony in her head had reached new heights and it was so strong, she felt dizzy and little sick.
Chris dashed through the door, feeling abused and harassed. He had the 560 in his hand. “What are you screeching about?” he demanded “I’ve been busy enough with that right canty gent. A real piece of work I’ll tell you, he tried to….” his voice trailed off as he took in the squalling infants. “What in munning sheol?”
Pendle was trying to decide between which infant to pick up first or if she was going to vomit first. “Oh do stop standing there,” she said “call the Captain quick, the poor little things.” The music in her head was so overpowering now, that she couldn’t quell the retching of her stomach. Chris felt like her chastisement was grossly unfair considering he’d just knocked a fellow in the head for her, hopefully not for squalling infants. The least she could do was pull herself together. Outside a whirring sound went off, the lights flickered and the building started to thrum as if someone had stuck it next to a power plant.
“Oh freeze it all to munning pergs,” Chris said, stepping to the window and looking outside, “the feds are here.”
Barely had the words left his mouth when he found himself knocked unceremoniously out of the way. Both windows crashed open and men in gray saelor suits started crawling over the place like ants with walkie talkies. Pendle’s first instinct was to throw herself in front of the two infants closest to her, but she didn’t have a chance before she recognized the brown boots and suede camel colored pants of someone she was well familiar with. Her eyes traveled upwards past the navy blue coat and up further to the eyes of the Captain.
“Capn!” She exclaimed in delight. There were only two people in the world who weren’t intimidated by the captain, and the only other one besides Pendle was his mother. Far from being surprised to see Pendle there, he merely raised one eyebrow and flicked an invisible piece of lint off of his coat as he surveyed the surroundings of his young protege. He seemed to take it all in and understand far more than she did, and she would have thrown herself into his arms and had a good cry, except that he caught her by the arm. “Dear child, do comport yourself more decently, may I present to you Lord Brockmore lately from Force Zero?”
Pendle gave him a very proper two finger offer, and he took her dainty hand and bowed over it. If she had been less distracted by the current conundrum she was in, she might have noticed that he didn’t sport the same uniform or gear as the medics and adjus. In fact, his coat and boots were of the sort that were so high quality as to be quite unimpressive and understated, but made other young men wonder in vain who his couteriour was. If it weren’t for the faint sneer on his lips, and the glossy shine to his hair, he could have easily fit in among the stalwart airman class. His shoulders were wide enough and his jaw strong enough to be considered tolerably good looking even without his reputation as being “loaded to the nines.”
“How do you do?” She said politely to him, but it was clear she was distracted. She bounced from one foot to the other impatiently and turned away to address the captain. “I’m sure you’re in a great fuss as to why I’m here, but you must not blame Chris, I dragged him here against his will.”
Chris, who had quite unjustly been put in handcuffs as a precautionary measure after he’d smacked two adjus’ heads together and taken offense to being treated like a possible henchman in this abominable quest, snorted. “It’s bad business Capn’ and I don’t mean to let a foragey girl take no credit for the trouble, if you catch my meaning, I’m all up to snuff whenever needed, but it’s bad business.”
The captain did catch his meaning perfectly well, but replied mildly, “Next time you decide to take out a stool pigeon, it would help if you didn’t alert the entire operation of your presence. We’d appreciate our share as well you know.”
Chris flushed at this, “I didn’t know we were in the line of work helping the fuzz...sir.” He stopped and nodded in Lord Brockmor’s direction “excepting whoever you are of course sir, I mean no offense.” Chris hadn’t ever seen Cap'n hobnobbing with the elite before. Normally the kind of jobs the Palaver picked up were specifically the kind that avoided any run-ins with the Feds or folk from Force Zero.
“Oh where are they taking them!” Pendle interrupted as the captain freed Chris. She dashed towards one of the medics who had slapped a potassium and calorie pack on one of the babies and was prepping it in a web to be taken away. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparked with indignation. She’d been so sure she was supposed to be here, and now… she supposed she should just be glad she wasn’t in as much trouble as she expected. But when she tried to follow the baby out, the captain stopped her. “Are you going to take care of a half dozen squalling wee babes by yourself?” He asked, when she turned with flaming eyes and shook him off. “In a ship like the Palaver, where do you plan on putting them? I suppose you will have already stocked the larder with milk and bottles? And turned the engine room into a nursery full of cribs?”
“But I found them!” she retorted, “and I was supposed to find them. I had a vis…” her words trailed off as the captain pursed his lips and shook his head almost imperceptibly. She started to say something else when Lord Brockmore interrupted dryly “May I suggest we adjourn to the quarters on my ship for some refreshments?” Pendle wished she could tell him in Chris-like terms exactly what she thought of this suggestion, but another quelling look from the captain stopped her.