the grappling hook, never intended to save the shuttle. The plan had been to ride in with the wind and escape using the cargo compartment, abandoning the shuttle, and the last two years of his work, to be ripped apart in the storm, its specially crafted engines sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
Very well done, Gilda. A brilliant performance. Perhaps the best you’ve ever given. You’ve earned your accolades this time. You’ve made your point. Now it’s time for me to make mine.
She glanced up, her delicate expression sobering when she saw him standing there. Her lips parted, on his name perhaps. She managed to look stricken, no longer able to play the part of the fearless heroine, the golden goddess, illusions that still existed for the public but not for them. Not for years. She seemed to lose her bearings, choosing to hold his gaze as she was pressed from one man to the next, urged quickly along the path to safety.
Just when he thought she might call out, her expression hardened, becoming something guarded and resolute as she focused on the hatch ahead. It was opened wide for her, revealing a glowing corridor and a worried looking lieutenant waiting to greet her in dress whites.
Lady Sinclair had arrived.
“She made a pretty mess of your machine, didn’t she, Mr. Lanchard?” The LSO clapped him on the shoulder, his laugh booming above the storm. “No offense, but we’ll be shoving the rest o’er the side as soon as the medical supplies are unpacked. Can’t have that wreckage rollin’ about.”
Nathan swore under his breath.
“Yes, I know,” the LSO quipped, walking into the pouring rain. “She laid waste to ya.”
Hardly the first time. Nathan glowered at the man’s back, feeling the familiar strain of anger, exhaustion. But, with luck, it might be the last.
She’d been alarmed, taken off guard. And who could blame her? Her ears still rang from the crash, her ribs stinging with the hard impact, her hands shaking with the lost feel of the throttles. Had he cared? Not in the slightest. He looked furious standing there, his big shoulders silver with rain, his dark hair freed from its knot, his cold expression glossed with water and light. Of course, he would be furious. But what could he say? Nothing. The medicine she had brought on the shuttle was desperately needed and would save wounded men, soldiers even now at the mercy of the Avenger’s surgeons.
That was certainly a lofty achievement.
And the fact that her arrival had suddenly spoiled his ability to meet privately with the Navy’s top notch—well, that was just what he deserved.
Gilda felt a delicious glow of pleasure in that. You think you have the right to do whatever you like, don’t you, Nate? Well, you asked for this lesson, didn’t you? We’re still partners and there’s not a damn thing you can do without my permission, nothing you can keep secret from me.
She followed Lieutenant Something-or-other, a kind man with round face, down an endless corridor choked with pipes and steam release valves, heading for the compartment that had been prepared for her. The Lieutenant somehow walked counter to the sway of the ship, so that whatever the dreadful tilt, his rather pudgy frame stood angled in exact opposite, keeping him neatly in the center of things.
Gilda, on the other hand, swaggered like a drunk and considered swearing like one too. Sea ships were God-awful beasts, and battleships the worst of the lot. “You’d think they’d run out of gray paint, eventually.”
“Pardon me?” The Lieutenant looked back at her.
She’d interrupted him, she realized. He’d been babbling on about all the little round-faced juniors back on the farm. “You must miss them terribly. I can’t imagine.”
“It does get tough. But I’m needed here. There’s talk of a new strike from the Sultans. They’ve sent a few Dreadnaughts and striker teams into these waters. They mean to take control of the islands, perhaps.”
“Well, that is
Very well done, Gilda. A brilliant performance. Perhaps the best you’ve ever given. You’ve earned your accolades this time. You’ve made your point. Now it’s time for me to make mine.
She glanced up, her delicate expression sobering when she saw him standing there. Her lips parted, on his name perhaps. She managed to look stricken, no longer able to play the part of the fearless heroine, the golden goddess, illusions that still existed for the public but not for them. Not for years. She seemed to lose her bearings, choosing to hold his gaze as she was pressed from one man to the next, urged quickly along the path to safety.
Just when he thought she might call out, her expression hardened, becoming something guarded and resolute as she focused on the hatch ahead. It was opened wide for her, revealing a glowing corridor and a worried looking lieutenant waiting to greet her in dress whites.
Lady Sinclair had arrived.
“She made a pretty mess of your machine, didn’t she, Mr. Lanchard?” The LSO clapped him on the shoulder, his laugh booming above the storm. “No offense, but we’ll be shoving the rest o’er the side as soon as the medical supplies are unpacked. Can’t have that wreckage rollin’ about.”
Nathan swore under his breath.
“Yes, I know,” the LSO quipped, walking into the pouring rain. “She laid waste to ya.”
Hardly the first time. Nathan glowered at the man’s back, feeling the familiar strain of anger, exhaustion. But, with luck, it might be the last.
She’d been alarmed, taken off guard. And who could blame her? Her ears still rang from the crash, her ribs stinging with the hard impact, her hands shaking with the lost feel of the throttles. Had he cared? Not in the slightest. He looked furious standing there, his big shoulders silver with rain, his dark hair freed from its knot, his cold expression glossed with water and light. Of course, he would be furious. But what could he say? Nothing. The medicine she had brought on the shuttle was desperately needed and would save wounded men, soldiers even now at the mercy of the Avenger’s surgeons.
That was certainly a lofty achievement.
And the fact that her arrival had suddenly spoiled his ability to meet privately with the Navy’s top notch—well, that was just what he deserved.
Gilda felt a delicious glow of pleasure in that. You think you have the right to do whatever you like, don’t you, Nate? Well, you asked for this lesson, didn’t you? We’re still partners and there’s not a damn thing you can do without my permission, nothing you can keep secret from me.
She followed Lieutenant Something-or-other, a kind man with round face, down an endless corridor choked with pipes and steam release valves, heading for the compartment that had been prepared for her. The Lieutenant somehow walked counter to the sway of the ship, so that whatever the dreadful tilt, his rather pudgy frame stood angled in exact opposite, keeping him neatly in the center of things.
Gilda, on the other hand, swaggered like a drunk and considered swearing like one too. Sea ships were God-awful beasts, and battleships the worst of the lot. “You’d think they’d run out of gray paint, eventually.”
“Pardon me?” The Lieutenant looked back at her.
She’d interrupted him, she realized. He’d been babbling on about all the little round-faced juniors back on the farm. “You must miss them terribly. I can’t imagine.”
“It does get tough. But I’m needed here. There’s talk of a new strike from the Sultans. They’ve sent a few Dreadnaughts and striker teams into these waters. They mean to take control of the islands, perhaps.”
“Well, that is
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