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  Epos (Maltia)

  11 November 2355

  Ethan’s 21st day on Tersain

  – – – – – – – – – –

  My days on the Epos are gradually becoming more structured. It took me a while to get my bearings and acquire the basic information I needed to get around here; after those first few days of treading carefully, I’m now starting to get a sense of how to balance my activities into a routine.

  I like having a defined daily life. Being able to organise my time and energy helps me to manage my efforts as best I can—something that, unfortunately, I’ve found difficult lately. Well… even now, new things crop up from time to time, but I don’t actually mind a bit of variety; in fact, it makes everything more interesting, so long as I have a “comfort zone” to return to if needed.

  As of today, I’ve been on Tersain for three weeks. In the evening, as I sit on the bed in my cabin, I can only be grateful for being one of the few granted a single room. I presume it’s because Archeos wanted me close by… and from what I’ve gathered, he’s an important figure, entitled to an officer’s cabin. All the rooms in this section of the corridor are, so I’ve ended up with one myself.

  It’s made my life a great deal easier, as it gives me the peace I need to put my thoughts in order.

  A little drowsy, I let out a huge yawn.

  So, there’s going to be another expedition, uh?

  In the end, it seems that having a clear routine won’t be so easy. Tomorrow morning I’ll have to deal with the philosophers, and in the afternoon Dawn will want to continue the training. After that, I’ll need to prepare for the mission… and then, I’ll be in the hands of the rebels I’ll be travelling with. From that moment on, it’s darkness as to what will happen to me.

  This situation I’m in… as much as I’m getting used to it, it’s still hard to accept. I don’t like being so at the mercy of other people’s decisions. But as long as I’m stuck here, I have to endure: the goal ahead of me remains clear… to gain more and more trust, step by step, until I’m in a position to determine my fate, at least in part. What I’ll do with that power, once I’ve obtained it… we’ll see. Unfortunately, until I know more about Tersain, I can’t make any predictions.

  The problem is what I’ll have to deal with until I have the autonomy I’m after. For example… things like what happened during the last expedition.

  Fighting… that really didn’t sit well with me at all. To be clear, I’m not an inveterate pacifist: I don’t like violence and conflict, but at the same time I don’t reject them on principle when situations arise that leave little choice.

  I realise that, on that occasion, I acted mostly out of defence or external compulsion, so I can’t blame myself too much. Moreover, unlike what tends to happen in England, here it’s almost expected that I should be ready to bare my fangs in the name of the “cause”, so I don’t feel the weight of public disapproval if I commit violent acts against the Republic.

  Part of me, though, warns me to be cautious… to avoid situations where I’ll have to act that way. Because in any case, I really don’t relish the thought of pulling a trigger again.

  Let’s hope it goes better this time.

  In all this, today as well my attempts to move the flames with my mind have failed. By now, I’m completely at a loss. One really has to doubt whether I actually used mayea.

  In fact, the idea that it was all just an illusion is still the most plausible one. It’s a shame, though, that the image of the flames coming to life at the movement of my hand is still vividly imprinted in my mind… and along with it, the strange thoughts and sensations I experienced at the time.

  I just can’t ignore the sense that something impossible on Earth really did happen here. This gnawing doubt urges me to seek the truth.

  Could I squeeze this issue in somewhere amongst tomorrow’s things to tackle? I wonder, flopping onto the bed to get ready for sleep. Hm… perhaps I’d better see what Dawn thinks. She’s the one with the most experience: I ought to ask her advice.

  – – – – – – – – – –

  Epos (Maltia)

  12 November 2355

  Ethan’s 22nd day on Tersain

  – – – – – – – – – –

  In its steady course, the Epos crosses an area of snowy sky. In reality, it’s a particular meteorological phenomenon peculiar to this world: the flakes formed from the clouds actually float on the currents without falling, only settling on those fragments whose gravitational fields capture them.

  The temperature has dropped quite a bit, putting everyone off the idea of poking their noses outside. Since the inside of the Epos is heated, the crew are more than happy to stay indoors, though the necessity of daily maintenance on the outside of the airship forces someone to take on the unpleasant task of going out.

  Luckily for us, neither Dawn nor I have any duties requiring us to work outside. In fact, being a philosopher exempts me from physically demanding tasks. As for the young woman, she limits herself to her inventory work in the storeroom that supplies the central engine rooms.

  After a gruelling afternoon training session, the girl and I are sitting at opposite sides of the room we use for practice. It’s the very same place where, only a few days ago, Dawn explained to me how mayea works. We use it regularly, as we reckon it’s unlikely anyone will disturb us here.

  Now, after being beaten yet again in our latest fight, I’m panting a bit, worn out by the rebel’s energy. My forehead is beaded with sweat, so much so that a few locks of hair have stuck to it.

  “Listen…” I say, once I’ve caught my breath enough to speak properly. “But why do you care so much about this learning to fight business? I don’t really see the necessity for it.”

  “I do,” she replies, not looking particularly tired, unlike me.

  “Why?”

  “You can’t take part in the Resistance’s military operations without at least a bit of physical preparation,” the girl asserts, gesticulating as she speaks. “Even if your role is ‘support’, you need to survive in order to carry it out.”

  “Making sure I survive is the fighters’ job, isn’t it?”

  “All right then. When you find yourself before the Creator for having fallen in battle, you can explain that to him. I’m sure he’ll bring you back to life, eh?”

  “…”

  “I’m joking. But you do agree that it’s not always possible to look after the weaker members of the group, right? So, if they can at least fend for themselves a bit, it increases their chances of surviving.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Though I inwardly admit the validity of these arguments, I scratch my head sceptically.

  “All right…” I say. “But if armed republican soldiers get in my way, I’m hardly going to start punching them… I could try, but I doubt I’d get very far.”

  “Do you know how easy it is for a fight to shift from firearms to hand-to-hand combat?” the young woman replies.

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Antony told me, and he’s got plenty of experience.”

  “Really?”

  I don’t like relying on hearsay, but I don’t fancy questioning the junior sergeant’s words… not in front of his sister.

  “Anyway, I still doubt the usefulness of these exercises… it all feels a bit too much like ‘‘comic-book hero training’,” I concede. “I don’t think they’ll improve me before I go through loooads of sessions.”

  “That’s how it works, you know?” Dawn observes, ignoring the parts of what I’ve said she doesn’t quite understand. “It really does take ages. It took me years to become… well, how I am now.”

  I watch her for a moment as she tidies her hair. Then I ask:

  “Why did you train to fight if there was no one to face on that fragment?”

  “I was aiming to join the Resistance,” the girl replies, as if it were obvious. “Given my family and what my father taught me, it was always something more or less expected in my future. Of course, I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

  I don’t answer. I’m not sure how comfortable she feels about approaching the subject of her father’s disappearance, so I let her decide where to steer the conversation.

  “But…” Dawn adds, “I suppose what really pushed me to try was seeing my brothers join the Resistance. You know, it does have an influence.”

  “But you could stop now, couldn’t you? You’re in.”

  “I have to stay up to scratch: the speech I gave you applies to me as well,” declares the rebel. “It’s true that recently I’d let myself go a bit. But you gave me an excuse to get back on track.”

  “I don’t think I’m much of a training partner for you.”

  “You give me a run for my money, you know?” objects Dawn. “You don’t realise it, but having done martial arts in the past has left you with a certain… instinct. I mean, you’re not completely hopeless in a fight.”

  “Mmm… if you say so.”

  “It’s true! If you don’t slack off, those kicks of yours are going to start hurting soon.”

  “All right, all right.”

  I sigh.

  “I need something to drink,” I announce.

  “Let’s go to the mess hall, then.”

  ???

  In the engine rooms, work is in full swing. The low-temperature area the ship is travelling through is causing various difficulties for the machinery, so the order has come to increase speed in order to get away as soon as possible. In the meantime, however, some of the boilers are starting to act up, and their pistons have stopped.

  The artificers and their assistants are very busy getting everything back in order.

  “Stupid contraption,” grumbles Nipria, banging a connecting rod with her spanner.

  “That was a truly advanced repair procedure,” comments Jim, watching her work as he leans on his shovel. “Hitting the connecting rod with an artificer’s spanner… I’d never have thought of that.”

  He ducks suddenly, just dodging the spanner the young woman has thrown at him.

  “You’re far too violent,” he says, straightening up. “If you keep that up, you’ll never find a husband.”

  “Jim…” says Nipria, her tone threatening, “Shall we try using you to fuel the boiler? Maybe it’ll start working again if you’re not the one shovelling the coal in.”

  “Nobody shovels coal as masterfully as I do,” declares the young man. “Maybe it’s offended with you instead.”

  “You two, instead of wittering on, get back to work,” snaps a nearby artificer.

  “I’d gladly do that, but if she doesn’t fix the boiler I can’t do anything,” replies Jim, pointing at Nipria.

  “Then go scrape the ice off the deck,” says the artificer.

  “What? In this cold?”

  “Would you rather clean the…?”

  “No! I’ll go.”

  Looking disconsolate, Jim puts down the tool he’d been using to shovel coal and walks off. As for Nipria, with a huff she turns back to the boiler.

  “When are we going to replace this scrap?” she complains, switching off the machine. “They’re so old they give us trouble every time winter comes. I’m not saying we should throw them out, but they’d be more suited to less important ships. The Epos ought to have the best.”

  “If only we had new parts,” replies the previous artificer. “Just do your job.”

  Once the boiler has cooled, Nipria starts to dismantle it and clean its various components.

  The Resistance has never been particularly well-off, she thinks. But lately, things are especially bad. Let’s hope it’s only a passing crisis.

  In the end, she finds a deformed gear. In all likelihood, that’s why the connecting rod isn’t working. The girl takes care of the replacement and puts everything back together; it’s a routine job, one she’s done so many times it doesn’t take her long.

  “Shall we give it a try?” asks one of the men in charge of fuelling the boilers, noticing that the artificer has finished.

  Nipria nods. She waits, a little tensely, for the man to fire up the machine, and when she sees the connecting rod start moving again, she nods in satisfaction.

  Another task successfully completed, she congratulates herself as she begins tidying up her tools. No one can say I’m not good at my job.

  Compared to other artificers who still have a long way to go, the girl has finished decidedly quickly. So, now she finds herself with a fair bit of time ahead of schedule, which she decides to make use of.

  “I’m done here,” she says. “I’m off for a break.”

  “Make it a short one,” says the artificer she was talking to earlier.

  “Don’t be such a pain.”

  ???

  As water supplies on board are limited, the precious liquid is rationed carefully. The bathrooms dispense only what is strictly necessary, and any waste of the ship’s reserves is forbidden. These reserves are mostly obtained by collecting humidity from the atmosphere, using very advanced technology.

  Since the air on Tersain is often laden with fumes from the widespread use of coal engines, it’s not advisable to drink the liquid extracted from the clouds without treating it first. For this reason, the only place on the Epos where one can get drinking water is the kitchen attached to the mess hall. Even there, they keep track of how much each crew member consumes.

  “True enough,” I say, drinking from a bottle handed to me by the mess hall attendant. “We could land on a fragment now and then, you know. This ship is always flying; no wonder it’s hard to resupply it.”

  “We can’t stay in one place, not with the Republic hunting us,” Dawn explains. “We’re far too recognisable.”

  “Really? So we just keep wandering about with no destination?”

  “Well, I suppose they tend to stay wherever it’s most convenient for the operations centre to be. What can I tell you? Even I don’t know how they decide where to set course.”

  “Mmm…” I mumble, taking another sip. “Do the other Resistance ships do the same?”

  “I suppose so… wait… how do you know about the other ships?”

  “Well, it’s obvious there are others, isn’t it?” I reply, genuinely surprised by Dawn’s reaction. “If it were just this one, no matter how big, I don’t think you’d be able to put up much resistance.”

  “You’re right…” admits the rebel, relaxing. “In fact, I know of several large vessels owned by the Resistance. I think they’d make quite a fleet, if you put them all together.”

  Dawn finishes her water. Leaving the bottle, she declares:

  “Rationed water or not, I’m going to have a wash. See you later.”

  “Oh…” I murmur, embarrassed. “All right…”

  “Hmm?” she says, giving me a questioning look.

  She must have picked up on my discomfort. However, she doesn’t try to ask about it. Rather, since I offer no explanation, she simply walks away.

  Hah… she doesn’t seem to realise her boldness makes things awkward for me, I think, sighing. Am I too old-fashioned? No… I think it’s more a lack of experience.

  As natural as washing is, the fact it involves nudity… I don’t know, it’s as if it’s a topic I’m inclined to avoid, with a member of the opposite sex. I know, though, that it’s an oddity I’ll have to fix sooner or later. Rationally, there’s nothing wrong with talking about it.

  I can only hope that, in time, I’ll get used to these things enough not to be flustered by such trifles.

  I give myself a sniff, and with some dismay realise I could do with freshening up too. I finish my drink and am about to leave the mess hall when I see Nipria come in. I wave to her. On seeing me, she comes over.

  “Hi!” the girl greets me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was thirsty,” I reply.

  “Me too.”

  “I can well believe it: working in that furnace must be tough.”

  “Oh… not as much as you’d think,” she answers, shaking her head in embarrassment. “Erm…”

  I watch her uncertainly. Is she about to say something?

  “Have you seen the snow?” the artificer asks me.

  “Barely, through a porthole.”

  “Do you want to get a better look? The deck will be completely covered in snow: the ship attracts the flakes just like a fragment.”

  Since being here, I’ve picked up a bit of nautical vocabulary, so I know that—even though all the Epos’s floors are called decks—if you don’t specify which, it usually means the main deck.

  “It’ll be cold, I bet,” I remark.

  “Don’t worry about that: I’ve got what we need to wrap up,” declares the rebel, confidently. “Or are you busy?”

  “No, I haven’t really got much to do.”

  I look at her for a moment. Then I shrug. My shower isn’t urgent, and until Dawn’s finished washing, I can’t ask her about mayea.

  “All right, let’s do this,” I accept, since she seems to be hoping for a positive answer from me.

  “Hooray! I mean… I’m glad. I had some free time, so if we go for a walk I’m happy,” the girl giggles.

  Again, I look at her, puzzled.

  “Come on,” says Nipria, pulling me by the sleeve.

  “Er… yeah,” I agree.

  But wasn’t she thirsty?

  ahead of Royal Road?

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  See you in the next chapter!

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