11. The Airlock ution #2
“I also have a statement here from Captain Dezeeves Pire.” He clears his throat.
Shuffles his papers, bringing a new one to the front.
“Threatening any prisoner of war – be they Integrating or Fully Integrated, is against our system here on The Emperor. A system that has been highly praised by The Assembly for reflecting our value of mercy. A system that not only combats our declining crew, but in improving the fleet through the knowledge and – in some cases – blood magic these Rhavnans may have.”
Ephraine says, with a tone of finality, “In light of this infraction of The Assembly’s Accords, article two under On Conduct, we call forwards your State Craftsman, Lore Mallory of Lore Village, to deliver the verdict.”
The ageing man in State Craftsman uniform steps forwards.
“Guilty,” he declares.
For the first time, Chapp’s composure slips. He tries to flee for the platform’s railing – only for Ephraine to kick him to the ground with such force I can hear the crack of bone from here.
“The sentence will be – in accordance with The Accords – Execution by Airlock.”
He hauls up Chapp by his long hair – Chapp flails against him, but it’s pointless – and then swings open the glass door and throws him through it into the smaller, self-contained dome.
Chapp beats his fists against the glass with such horror in his eyes, such violence, it makes me wince. He’s clearly shouting, screaming, for his life, but all we can hear is silence.
I turn to face the others for the first time. Riss, for all of her confidence on the platform, looks pale now, as does Cosmer.
But Drake, as always, seems unnervingly relaxed. He could be watching a Rhavnan play, or listening to a poet, for all you’d know from the look on his face. Has he witnessed many executions? Or is he just highly skilled in hiding anything he’s thinking or feeling?
After watching Chapp thrash about a while with what I’m sure is enjoyment, Ephraine finally yanks down a large lever by the glass door, set into the platform. The back of the smaller dome slides left instantly, and from what I can see, it’s like a rush of wind floods in.
One second Chapp is there, the next he’s gone.
Ephraine and the State Craftsman nod at each other before climbing down from the platform. The soldiers and pilots around us are leaving.
I realise I’ve been holding my breath. Like I’m expecting there to be more. Chapp hardly even had the chance to defend himself.
Even though I know for a fact he was guilty, what I’ve just witnessed somehow still seems wrong.
I force my eyes away from the platform. They land on Cosmer, who, it seems, has been staring at me strangely.
I hate it. Because it reminds me of the last time he looked at me like that – right before he scolded me for not staying in the cabin.
It made me feel so small. And weak.
“Please don’t ask me if I’m all right,” I say to him.
His eyes crinkle up. “Okay, then. I won’t.”
I turn to Riss. Look at her, pleadingly.
“I want to learn how to fight,” I say, my voice clear. “If there’s ever another Chapp, I need to be able to defend myself.”
She looks taken aback.
But Cosmer pipes up before she can answer. “You don’t need to know how to defend yourself. You’re in Intelligence. It’s not part of your Integration.”
“What about at night?” I ask. Sharp.
“At night, I’m in your room.”
“And if you’re asleep? Or you’re not there?”
He seems genuinely confused. “Why wouldn’t I be there?”
I burn up. “Oh, I don’t know. What about next week, if I Fully Integrate? You’re not still going to be in my room then, are you?”
He sort of flinches at that. But says nothing.
So, I push on. “What happens then, when a random soldier decides, hey, maybe I don’t actually like having an enemy in the cabin next door? A traitor to their country? What if, a whole bunch of soldiers decide they don’t like it?”
Riss cuts in. “That hasn’t happened, Ara. FIs, they’re part of the crew. Dezeeves would put on trial anyone who threatened a member of his crew. He just did.”
“That’s not good enough,” I say. “I don’t feel safe here.
My upbringing…” I look sideways at Drake.
Wonder if he’ll get my meaning. “My upbringing was probably different to the other prisoners here. And I’m not a captured soldier with actual combat training behind me.
I don’t like walking around, feeling like an easy target. ”
Drake speaks up for the first time, his voice low.
“She’s right. She needs training. And quickly.”
Cosmer’s eyes snap to his, over the top of my head. “No one asked for your opinion.”
“An oversight, clearly. Seeing as I’m the only one among us who understands what she means when she says the ship isn’t safe for us.”
Cosmer’s nose and freckles crease. “Do you not hear what an idiotic thing you’ve just said? The ship isn’t safe for any of us. We’re at war! We could get ambushed tomorrow, for all we know—”
“All the more reason to train her,” Drake counters. Quieter, he states, “Ara, I can do it. If they won’t.”
I’ve been having to keep looking between them. But now, I spin to face him fully.
“Great—” I start to say.
But Riss speaks up from behind me. “Ara. You asked me to train you, and I’m your keeper. Since Cosmer doesn’t want to – and since Drake, being another prisoner, isn’t allowed to be alone with you – I’ll do it if that’s what you want. Okay?”
“Riss,” Cosmer says. “This is a bad idea.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it’s not.” She shrugs. “Either way, I’ll add it to her book.” She throws him an easy smile. “I’m all up for trying to get some extra credit.”
“When could we start?” I ask.
Riss’ gaze flicks up to the sun.
“I reckon we still have a good couple of hours before we need to start getting ready for the Captain’s Dinner. So, now?”
Making the bed is easy compared to the hard work Riss puts me through in the Training Room for the next hour. I thank the Sisters for the breeches I’ve been given. I would never have been able to do any of that in a dress.
After the intense drills, she leads me onto a mat and demonstrates how to stop someone from attacking me from behind.
We practice the move, and I do my best to ignore Cosmer and Drake, who, with nothing better to be doing while they wait for us, are doing their own thing on separate ends of the room.
Drake is lifting weights, while Cosmer is pushing himself up and down a bar with the kind of athleticism I’d admired in him when we were friends.
He’s taken his shirt off. His muscles are rippling. His skin shines with sweat.
But his back. The way his skin stretches over it. I’m aware, again, of how thin he is.
I’m torn away from him, as at that moment, Riss stabs me in the back with her arm and flips me using her hip. It makes me smack down onto the floor on my knees.
“Stop staring at Cosmer, and concentrate,” she snaps. “You’re supposed to be blocking.”
I rub my knees. Look up at her. Someone of her small size and height should not be able to flip another person like that.
It’s good. It gives me confidence that, with my own lean, shorter frame, I can learn too.
I get to my feet.
She’s already stepping backwards, getting ready to run at me again.
“Riss,” I say, quietly, facing forward. “Are you sure Cosmer’s all right?”
I can hear her running towards me. I brace myself, aware this is most certainly not how it would play out in real life.
She’s on me. I respond the way I’m supposed to. After the manoeuvre, I twist around.
“Great,” she says, shaking out the foot I stepped on. “Now you’re in a good position to get a right hook on me. So, you’re going to—”
“Riss, I asked you—”
“And I ignored you.”
“But he’s so thin,” I whisper.