the sharp scent of flint
Oct. 28th, 2003 05:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alonewiththemoonThey arrive together, tense and sweating, except for the elegant and refined Nasr. Even when he is hauling in nets of fish he always looks vaguely removed, as though he ought to be somewhere else, somewhere with a string quartet and rarified conversation and food far more exotic than the stinking slippery modfish flopping around his gumboots. I didn’t ask him why he wanted to be a sailor when I hired him, and he never volunteered the information, not even on those maudlin nights when the crew weeps in its cups over its collective lost fortune and lot in life. So Nasr is not outwardly tense and sweating, but he does turn the color of ashes as he sets eyes on me. I see his hand go to his prayer beads. He is a smart man and he knows that although the others might have simply been sleeping off their liquor, he was not, and that his extended sleep was nothing natural.
“Well,” says Melville, “we’re here. Now you can explain what the hell happened to you, explain where we are and why we’re there and not at Lunar Prime, and while you’re at it, why you’ve changed the navcontrol codes.” She must have stopped by the engine room on her way to wake up the others. Defiance tastes like peppery cinnamon, tickling the back of my nose, but her fear tastes like--I was going to say rotting fish, but I’ve never actually tasted that, only smelled it. It’s the closest thing I can think of, though. Variations on the same smell roll around the others as they ring the bridge, arms folded. The smell is nauseating, the more so because I know that I am the reason for it.
Deep breath. Calmness. “I don’t know what happened to me. You saw some of it as it was happening, Melville--you can tell them it was nothing I did.” She doesn’t look all that convinced, but some of the defiance is ebbing away. She, at least, wants to trust me. To the others, I say “After liftoff, I started changing. You can see the changes in my body.” I stretch and flex my pinions for emphasis. Gudrun blanches. “And I also…” How to tell them this? “I also found a new purpose, a new direction that I have to go. You can see from the navcharts where we are.” Moving to the navpanel, I key in a code that will allow the charts on the bridge’s viewscreen.
A collective gasp, a curse, and Jean strides forward, his fists clenched. Anger is a raw smell, bitter. Stay focused. “You’ve taken us past the military border! Are you trying to kill us? We need to turn this goddamn ship around now and pray we can talk our way back in past the guards. How did you get past them in the first place?”
Another deep breath. “We can’t go back. And I’m not trying to kill you. I need--”
“She’s mad! You all see that, right? She’s got some sickness, some infection. We have to go back now before we all catch this plague!” Gudrun nods once, and Jean pulls the stun stick, for the sharks and big fishes, from his belt, lunging towards me.
I do not clearly know what I did. Melville later told me that I smiled and spread my arms “like some fucking angel thing” and that when Jean reached me, he fell to his knees before me, dropping the stun stick and clapping his hands to his ears. When the blood began to run from between his fingers, the others dragged him back from me, and it was Gudrun’s screaming that brought me back to myself, back from somewhere blue and sharp-scented like a piece of flint, somewhere somewhat fierce.
“I didn’t want to do that. But you see, we can’t go back.”
“Well,” says Melville, “we’re here. Now you can explain what the hell happened to you, explain where we are and why we’re there and not at Lunar Prime, and while you’re at it, why you’ve changed the navcontrol codes.” She must have stopped by the engine room on her way to wake up the others. Defiance tastes like peppery cinnamon, tickling the back of my nose, but her fear tastes like--I was going to say rotting fish, but I’ve never actually tasted that, only smelled it. It’s the closest thing I can think of, though. Variations on the same smell roll around the others as they ring the bridge, arms folded. The smell is nauseating, the more so because I know that I am the reason for it.
Deep breath. Calmness. “I don’t know what happened to me. You saw some of it as it was happening, Melville--you can tell them it was nothing I did.” She doesn’t look all that convinced, but some of the defiance is ebbing away. She, at least, wants to trust me. To the others, I say “After liftoff, I started changing. You can see the changes in my body.” I stretch and flex my pinions for emphasis. Gudrun blanches. “And I also…” How to tell them this? “I also found a new purpose, a new direction that I have to go. You can see from the navcharts where we are.” Moving to the navpanel, I key in a code that will allow the charts on the bridge’s viewscreen.
A collective gasp, a curse, and Jean strides forward, his fists clenched. Anger is a raw smell, bitter. Stay focused. “You’ve taken us past the military border! Are you trying to kill us? We need to turn this goddamn ship around now and pray we can talk our way back in past the guards. How did you get past them in the first place?”
Another deep breath. “We can’t go back. And I’m not trying to kill you. I need--”
“She’s mad! You all see that, right? She’s got some sickness, some infection. We have to go back now before we all catch this plague!” Gudrun nods once, and Jean pulls the stun stick, for the sharks and big fishes, from his belt, lunging towards me.
I do not clearly know what I did. Melville later told me that I smiled and spread my arms “like some fucking angel thing” and that when Jean reached me, he fell to his knees before me, dropping the stun stick and clapping his hands to his ears. When the blood began to run from between his fingers, the others dragged him back from me, and it was Gudrun’s screaming that brought me back to myself, back from somewhere blue and sharp-scented like a piece of flint, somewhere somewhat fierce.
“I didn’t want to do that. But you see, we can’t go back.”
