04-332 Haven

  Kvenrei lay on the sofa, eyes tightly shut. He wished that the footsteps approaching in the corridor were not targeting him. The door opening nullified his hope, and the rhythmic clicks from the high heels punctuating irritated words forced the man to open his grey-blue eyes.

  “Wake up, Jonathan. Your presence is required, and by the touch of the ash, try to present yourself as a seriously…”

  The steps and the words stopped simultaneously when the speaker saw the man he knew as Jonathan. Miss Ohanu wore carefully applied makeup, including rhinestones glued in the corners of her eyes. The golden jewels harmonized with the decorative stitching that drew ornamental flowers on her wide-sleeved, sky-blue kaftan. Her hairdo was adorned with blue feathers, and she carried a decorative fan in her manicured hand.

  The self-proclaimed center of Haven’s outer city entertainment business glared at her pet gangster, eyes full of barely contained fury, and Jonathan wondered what he had done wrong at this time. Before Ohanu could lash out, the sounds of another person entering the room made her hide the temperamental outburst behind a cloud of determination.

  Behind Ohanu, a woman standing a head taller than her hostess appeared. The tall woman was wearing a simple dark green suit with trousers. She was bald, her features angular, and the tattoos on her scalp reached her neck and temples in a cascade of symbols and geometric markings.

  Jonathan Byrd or the Bird, as he was often called, was 25 years old, blonde, and having a hangover. A straight nose and high cheekbones cast an illusion of sharpness on his tired face. Jonathan had trousers on, but he had lost his shirt and socks. He accepted being half-naked, dropped his feet to the floor, and rose with a fluid movement that seemed more relaxed than it felt.

  “Good morning, my mistress, how may I be of service?” Jonathan’s throat was parched, turning his voice coarse. Lamplight streaming into the room highlighted the blonde growth on his scalp and chin. The dawn would be in three days when Watergate orbited to Abyss’ dayside.

  “Excuse him, Navigator Thomms, he is still young, and a stray dog by heart,” Ohanu said.

  The tall woman smiled broadly, keeping her mismatched eyes - a grey and a brown one - fixed on Jonathan. She seemed to evaluate him before she spoke. “Good morning, Mr. Byrd. A hard night, I assume.”

  “It was a long one.” Jonathan had a hunch that ‘the navigator’ did not imply a steersman of some minor boat. She had the stature and look of a woman who had taken a good look at the world's rotten soul. The tattoos told Thomms was a navigator from the dark seas and the red twilight; a creature tested by shipwrecks, ghosts, and illnesses that dwelled in the reefs. She carried her travels tattooed on her skin, as was the habit on the planet’s side that forever faced the red gas giant.

  “I can see that.” The Navigator smiled and sat on a chair decorated with blue embroidery. She directed her words to Ohanu. “He might fit in the role.”

  Ohanu glared at Jonathan again. “I recognize the raw talent when I see it. Now you will do exactly what Madam Navigator tells you to do.” She continued by forming words with her lips only: “Or I will tell Viper.”

  Jonathan grimaced, mentioning his employer was a hit under the belt, as Ohanu very well knew. Jonathan was an illegal immigrant from the North. He had taken the first chance to leave his home country, burned the tracks, and erased all the similarities he carried to the father he despised. Jonathan had shaved his head to get rid of the blonde hair, and would have grown a beard, but his genetics didn’t agree with it.

  “I was told you are a talented actor, capable of pretending to be a woman,” the Navigator said. “Walk closer and sit down, please.”

  Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly. The morning was taking a curious turn, but he didn’t mind. He tilted his head, smiled, and swung his hips while walking towards the strange woman.

  “Do you manage socializing with ladies?”

  “Sure,” Jonathan’s voice lost some of its masculine deepness.

  “And can you do something about your looks?”

  The bald man sat in the chair with a chuckle, elegantly crossing his bare ankles. “Of course I can, don’t be silly. A wig and some make-up will work wonders. Let’s add some filling and maybe a high collar to hide my Adam’s apple.”

  “The Bird will not be a beauty, but he has the makings of a respectable middle-aged lady,” Ohanu said.

  “Good enough for my company,” Thomms smiled. “What about the other thing? You seem to be of the northern breed. What can you do?”

  “What would you like me to do, mistress Navigator?” Jonathan answered, his voice full of suggestion.

  “A good question, boy,” Thomms said, missing the connotations altogether. “A sky captain has a grudge against me. Still, he has invited me to visit his mansion. He will present an invention, and I am curious to see it, but I have a bad feeling about the gathering.”

  The small hints in the details of the navigator's clothing and speech connected in Jonathan’s head. This was not some boat company representative he was talking with; Thomms was associating with the flying elite. This put her in the topmost category regarding money, power, and enemies.

  Thomms continued. “I feel threatened. I can handle the ordinary violence, but I need an extra set of eyes, a hidden weapon, and this is where you, wearing a wig, come into play. I want you to prance among the captains and their officers, to keep your eyes open and, if needed, escort me out alive. Are you up to that task?”

  “I can fight,” Jonathan dropped his feminine show.

  “He is not exaggerating. The Bird has had some training. However, he sadly missed the lessons about self-discipline and getting up at decent hours,” Ohanu said.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I can live with that. We have a deal.”

  “Affirmative,” Ohanu answered without asking Jonathan’s opinion. “You can use him. I’ll inform Viper.” Viper was a crime lord whom Jonathan served and Ohanu’s long-time friend. He would not object as long as he got his share from the profits.

  “Well, Jonathan. I am Navigator Bladewater Thomms, officer to Captain Samuel DeLangre. I serve the Eastern Trading Union on the patrol ship Odysseia.”

  “Odysseia was a lover of Major Myers, born in Haven. She was a pretty girl,” Ohanu said, but the Navigator’s blank face told that any rumors about somebody’s love life were meaningless to her.

  “The reception will be in Captain Veringe’s house in four days. On Thursday.”

  Jonathan nodded. He had no clue about sky captains. People like Captain Veringe were high above the people with whom Jonathan associated. The Navigator did not seem to expect questions, and Jonathan was too hungover to ask anything clever.

  “I’ll meet you at five.” Thomms named a well-known location as a meeting point, and Jonathan nodded again.

  Ohanu looked first at Jonathan and then at the Navigator. “Are you sure you want to do this? It will leave a mark on your reputation.”

  Thomms frowned. “I have no idea what you are implying, Miss Ohanu. I was not born here, and to put it bluntly, I find your play with hidden meanings confusing.”

  “I wonder if I can explain…I trust you are not offended.”

  “You have my word, I am not easy to offend.”

  “Navigator, you are known to associate with people far below your class, and you do it very openly.”

  “Ohanu, be straight about it. I give my time to the people I consider interesting. I am too old to pretend anything else.”

  “As you say. The rumor says that you sleep with these acquaintances. People will believe Jonathan is your plaything.”

  The Navigator laughed. It was a dry but honest sound, rumbling from her throat low and untamed. “I have lived over sixty years and buried two husbands at sea. I can read the wind and the weather, unlike any of the people born on the gentle seas, and…and they gossip about my sex life.” Thomms swiped her eyes. “It is an excellent rumor, let’s keep it alive. It gives this young man a free rein to do his work, as the respectable people avoid him.”

  “Dear Thomms,” Ohanu set her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I am twice your age, and this city is still drooling over gossip about my relationships.”

  Jonathan could read Ohanu so well that her disbelief was evident. Miss Ohanu lived for the stories and used rumors as valuable resources.

  “Is it true then, that you were here when the Ainadu appeared?” the Navigator asked. Jonathan straightened his posture. This part of Ohanu’s history he hadn’t heard as a firsthand narrative.

  “Trying to ask my age and even you, Jonathan!” Ohanu smiled like a girl. “Yes, I was there, and I was sixteen.”

  “The sea has been gentle for you.” The navigator said. Ohanu’s bodily aging process had stopped early and almost perfectly. Her years showed only in the thinness of her face, or maybe she covered the changes with makeup. Only a few were so lucky. Compared to Ohanu, the navigator looked ancient, and Jonathan avoided thinking about his aging.

  Unlike the rest of the planet’s population, the Ainadu didn’t possess the genetic mechanism to slow the body’s natural aging process. Still, Jonathan’s father, who was a few years older than Ohanu, seemed ageless. Of course, it was of his own doing, but Jonathan was afraid that the same would happen to him. He feared that he was not like the others: that the work his father had done with his body had been fruitful.

  Jonathan had regular nightmares about bones, not any bones, but his own. He imagined feeling the blood flowing along his skeleton, feeding the matrices his father had carved there. Jonathan didn’t know what kind of power the markings channeled, and he loathed the idea of having them, of having anything that reminded him of his childhood.

  “Yes, I have been lucky. But I’ll see if Jonathan fits your style. Do you have other requirements?” Ohanu was saying.

  “Unfortunately, he must come unarmed. Weapons will be confiscated.”

  “Do you need a weapon?” Ohanu asked.

  “No,” Jonathan said.

  “He improvises them,” Ohanu said, and Jonathan could almost hear her thinking about what had happened between him, an armed intruder, and a newspaper.

  ***

  On the agreed evening, Jonathan walked beside the navigator towards Captain Veringe’s doors. With heels, Jonathan was almost the Navigator’s height, and a flower, perfecting his brown wig, raised to the top of the Navigator’s bald head. Lis and Jadeia had helped Jonathan dress, and the two had enjoyed themselves while applying the makeup and giving him lots of tips. Jonathan -now Joanna- was prettier than he had thought he would be.

  The embroidered black jacket hid the shape of Jonathan’s shoulders, and its lacing faked him a waist. A dark blue skirt reached down to his ankles. The laced shoes originated in the theatre's storage, and they had been painted to suit the skirt’s color. Jonathan had looked at himself in the mirror and sent himself a kiss.

  This role didn’t threaten his confidence, and the Navigator seemed to be a reasonable person. Jonathan did not feel like playing an involuntary part in Thomm's fantasies was on tonight’s schedule. It was almost the opposite; the tattooed woman was oddly sincere and straight-spoken, like she was not hiding secret agendas people always had.

  The walk to Captain Veringe’s house had strengthened Jonathan’s impression of the navigator. Her opinions seemed honest, and she had surprised Jonathan with her knowledge of poetry. Poetry was not considered fashionable among the upper classes, but Thomms had mentioned many of the same pieces Jonathan liked.

  The Veringe house was in the better part of the city, on an avenue on the seaside hills. The air was clearer than in the lower reaches and remained breathable even when the reefs were flowering.

  A servant opened the door and led the navigator and Jonathan inside. Nothing changed in Thomms’ bearing or face when they stepped inside. Jonathan had looked closely but hadn’t seen a mask or a role taking over. The Navigator carried on their discussion as if poetry were the most natural thing in the world. Jonathan noticed that he liked this refreshing attitude.

  They were stopped by a man wearing the uniform of the Ronsilde Trading Company to which Captain Veringe belonged.

  “This way, Navigator, Thomms, please. We check the guests just in case, of course, you understand.” The man was determined and looked like a career soldier who did not care if the guests understood the necessity of the check.

  “Of course,” Thomms said, “This is unusual, isn't it? Are you expecting trouble?”

  The soldier patted the Navigator in a way that showed his experience and indifference to the body underneath. “Captain’s orders. We are ensuring the visitors' safety.”

  Soon, Thomms was leading Jonathan inside the apartment. Jonathan’s check had been less thorough. “Was this a special welcome gesture just for you?” he whispered to the Navigator.

  “It is possible. Veringe has grown suspicious. They say that someone plans to steal his invention.”

  “The one he is planning to present tonight?”

  “I think so. He has given hints about a breakthrough in his research and a leap towards the stars.”

  “Does anyone know what it is all about?”

  “There was something about utilizing Ainadu technology. As I mentioned, I am curious to see it.”