alonewiththemoon | iron and blood

I’d never noticed the taste of air before.

Of course I have always had a perfectly functional sense of smell, although sometimes on a fishing trawler one wishes one didn’t. Now however I can taste currents and strands of air almost as solid and discrete entities. The air hanging around the ship’s hull gives off an iron tang flavored with salt and oil. A pathway of the taste of blood has wound out from the bridge. They are nearly the same flavor. It is hard to remember that the air will not suffocate me, that I continue to breathe even though tastes flood my mouth as though I am drinking from a bottomless cup.

I had always heard a saying about the smell of fear, but whenever I’ve been in situations where those around me were afraid, they smelled the same as always. Maybe a little sweatier or fishier, given the context, but not abnormal. Now I know what fear smells and tastes like, because my crew leaves it in their wake around them as they look at me.

Before I revived Melville and woke the rest of them up, I changed all of the security codes on the bridge. The Ehrengard is not a very sophisticated ship and so I will still have to watch for signs of hacking, but at the very least I would have some advance warning before anyone could turn the ship around. This will not win back the trust of my crew, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t turn back, and I don’t want to hurt them, even if I am quite possibly mad and sending us all to our deaths. I don’t even know that we have the fuel to get where we’re going. I can’t worry about that though; I can only trust whatever’s calling me to remember that I’m on my way and make sure I get there.

So: the crew. I revive Melville, who just two nights ago invited me into her bed and now cringes from me. I ask her to wake the others and she nods, backing out of the room. I say that I don’t want to hurt them, yet I remember now how I hurt her as my wings erupted from my flesh, striking out with a primordial urge that no ape ancestor of mine would recognize. I can tell by the way Melville looks at me that she remembers this quite clearly as well.

It takes some time to wake them all. I wait on the bridge. The galley is more comfortable but I want to remind them that I am the captain and this is my ship.

I taste them moments before they arrive. My first taste of their fear.