James E. Carter
The rope burned through his gloves faster than he expected. Carter slid the last few meters of the rope line uncontrolled, teeth clenched as heat tore into his palms.
When he couldn’t hold on anymore, he let go.He crashed down onto a canvas tent stretched beneath the mooring post. The fabric sagged, snapped, and collapsed under his weight, cushioning his landing. He still felt the impact of his landing as the tent poles clattered and the whole thing gave way. The world turned into a tangled mess of canvas with shouting voices, and flailing hands as soldiers underneath stumbled back in confusion, more startled than ready.
“What the hell?!”
Carter rolled on the canvas as realization hit him, he came up coughing and dusting off canvas fibers. Pain flared through his arm and thighs but he forced himself upright before anyone had the presence of mind to grab him, the mess of canvas still on top of the soldiers at the tent.
He ran, his boots pounded the ground as he sprinted along the base of the tethering post, favoring his left side but not slowing.
Shouts rose behind him, “Da-halt, stop him!”
A patrolling soldier stepped into his path, half-turning a corner of crates with a rifle still slung over his shoulder. Carter drove a punch into the man’s face as he passed him, his right knuckles crunched against the soldier’s cheekbone, he went down hard, skidding onto the ground.
Carter veered around another stack of cargo crates, nearly losing his footing as he clipped a corner. He bursted straight through a cluster of unsuspecting engineering staff, they wore overalls and gloves. They scattered in panic as he shoved through them with muttered curses and startled cries following him.
“Out of the way!” he growled, pushing one of them to the side as he landed clumsily onto another pair of patrolling soldiers.
“W-what, halt!” One of the soldiers yelled out as he slungung his rifle from his shoulder.
Carter didn’t heed as he bolted over a service barricade and out of the port and into the city proper, as he did, someone behind him fired. The shot went wide, landing against a stone wall only meters away from him.
He immediately made his way into the narrow turning streets. Civilians scattered at the sight of a bloodied man running full tilt and gunshots coming behind him. He turned once, then twice more, his lungs burned and his leg screamed in pain with every step, the street then opened abruptly onto the river embankment.
With no hesitation Carter vaulted the stone edge and slid down the steep moist slope, his boots scraping uselessly against damp stone as he hit the water and went in feet first. The cold currents slammed the breath out of him as they seized him immediately. He went under, came back up choking, then forced himself sideways into the flow as shots began to crack behind him once more. He gulped air, then let himself sink again, angling with the current as it dragged him, the ones taking potshots at him would lose sight of him.
Once the current had swept him further away he rose up, gasping for air as he did, pain flared everywhere at once, arm, hip, hands, but he let the river take him, pulling him downstream into the city flow.
Itzi Ku
The room they brought her to looked more like a private library than anything official. Dark wood shelves, most of them only half-filled. A globe sat near the corner top a small table with a lamp. A heavy desk was pushed against the far wall below a seemingly fancy looking painting, it all reeked more of appearances than work.
A single Commonwealth marine stood near the door. Blue uniform and polished boots, hands relaxed but his holstered pistol made it obvious he was not unarmed. He hadn’t said a word since she’d been led in.
Itzi glanced then crossed her arms tight against her ribs.
“Well…” She began, “I’ve been sitting here for a while,” irritation crept into her voice. “So what exactly is going on? Because from where I’m standing, you’re all wasting time.”
The Marine didn’t react. The door opened before she could say more.
A man entered, he looked every bit the diplomat. Late forties, maybe older, with hair thinning at the crown carefully coaxed by a thinning patch. He bore a neatly trimmed mustache and brown suit, tailored to his fit by the looks of it.
“Miss Ku,” he said pleasantly, closing the door behind him, “My apologies for the wait.”
He turned his head slightly toward the Marine, “Thank you, Corporal. I’ll take it from here.”
The soldier nodded once and stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him.
The man gestured to a chair across from the desk, “Please. Sit.”
She didn’t immediately, but after a second she did, her fingers tapped against the armrest as he set a small stack of folders on the table and took the seat opposite her.
“Ambassador Edwin Crane,” he said, offering a polite smile. “Commonwealth of Ardell, obviously.” He said as if telling an uninspired joke.
She nodded, unimpressed. “Then you already know why I’m here.”
“I do,” Crane replied calmly, “And I appreciate you bringing the matter to our attention.”
He opened one of the folders, glanced at a page, then folded his hands together.
“To be clear, we are aware that an Ardellian citizen may currently be in danger. Unfortunately, at present, we do not have confirmation of his whereabouts.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Itzi shot back, “He was on the airship, there was shooting and now-”
“And now the situation has become complicated,” Crane said gently, but firmly.
He leaned back onto the chair, “We are dealing with overlapping jurisdictions. Mitteland authorities, Inburian military elements, a port still in partial lockdown and the ongoing collapse of civil order further east. I don’t expect you to comprehend all of that immediately but I assure you, the matter is being addressed.”
She clenched her hands together, “How exactly? Because it doesn’t look like anyone’s doing anything.”
“I will be speaking with both the Mitteland officials and the Inburian representatives,” Crane replied, “As soon as channels are properly cleared.”
“That might be too late.”
He studied her for a moment, then softened his tone, “You’re from Hunya, yes? South of the Main..”
She nodded.
“A long way from home,” he said. “I do appreciate your concern. Truly. It speaks well of you.”
That didn’t comfort her.
“You should remain here, for the time being,” Crane continued. “If there was violence aboard the ship, it’s possible others involved may also be at risk. Including you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not worried about me.”
“I am,” he replied evenly, “And so is the Commonwealth, insofar as you are currently under our roof.”
Itzi leaned forward. “You don’t understand, he could be hurt, maybe dead, all because he tried to do what he thought was right.”
Crane exhaled quietly through his nose.
“Miss Ku,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “the Commonwealth is not presently in a position to intervene broadly in Old Continent affairs. Especially not for a single individual. We still have citizens in Inbur, Calaria, and beyond. People in business, missing relatives and expatriates, detentions by those barbarous Communalists. We cannot mount rescue operations for every case, however regrettable.”
“So you’re just going to let him die?” She said accusatory.
“No,” Crane said firmly, “But there are limits to what can be done without provoking a diplomatic incident.”
“Carter didn’t want to provoke any of that,” Itzi rose her voice, “he’s stubborn and reckless and probably getting himself killed, but he’s brave and—”
Crane’s eyes sharpened, “Carter?”
She hesitated, “James Carter… Yes.”
The shift in Crane was noticeable, his eyes widening slightly. He reached for the folder again, flipping pages faster now.
“James E. Carter?” he asked.
“I guess,” she said, frustrated.
Crane closed the folder, “I see, that was information not made clear…” he said quietly.
He leaned back again, but this time there was calculation behind it.
“That changes matters.”
She blinked then raised an eyebrow, “It does?”
“Considerably,” Crane replied. “Mr. Carter is… a known figure. A war hero from the last Commonwealth–Iktani war.”
He pressed his hands onto his knee, “The Commonwealth has no interest in seeing one of its veterans die abroad or worse, become the center of an international scandal involving Imperial gold and foreign troops.”
He met her eyes then rose slowly. “Please come with me, Miss Ku. I’ll need to make several calls.”
Itzi looked at him puzzled as the ambassador then offered her his hand and guided her towards the door.
“You were right to come to us,” he said. “We will… reassess our options.”
Urses Mallory
The ringing in Urses’s ears hadn’t faded yet, not from the shot, not from the shouting, not from the way the whole damned hold had turned inside out in a matter of seconds. His gut still throbbed where the crowbar had struck, a sick ache that made every breath feel like fire.
He stood there with the rifle half-raised, half-forgotten, staring at the empty space where Carter had been moments before.
Now he was gone.
The realization hit harder than the blow to his stomach. He’d let it get away from him. No… he’d
pushed it there.
Urses swallowed, his throat felt tight. He could still feel the recoil in his shoulder, still hear his own voice spitting threats he hadn’t thought through. He had been guarding gold, yes, but somewhere between duty and fury he’d stopped guarding his senses.
His eyes flicked to the others in the hold. Aden had gone stiff with exhaustion. The woman chugging out orders. And then the Captain Le Marinier, as always infuriatingly calm and standing there but as a tired man trying to keep a bad situation from becoming a catastrophe.
Post Captain Le Marinier
Telagrams and Talks.
.455 Hot
“Private, Mr Urses. Permission to approach the guard.” He said much more calmly and returned his gun to his side but he had a round in the chamber. Ready but also not actively a threat. “Put your rifle on safe, the horse has bolted the stable. Condition 1 or 3, dealer's choice. Zero, this is a thin hull, and thats a powerful round.”
It took a great force of will to place a hand on the man's rifle and gently press the barrel to face the deck. Away from the others in case he got jumpy. He with his other hand returned his revolver to its holster as a show he did the same. “A drink? Medicinal.” He gestured to where he took a drink from a hip flask engraved with the Favis national crest on one side and a Navy cypher on the other. His sister least knew about alcoholic gifts.
Hopefully someone came for the captain, he could ask for permission to secure the Ramp with Favis Marines until someone came up with a better idea. Risky but someone had to secure the gold…until it could be taken to the vaults of which the treasury was chosen.
Urses felt suddenly, acutely young.
The captain’s hand pressed the rifle barrel down. Grounding Urses back into reality.
For half a second, Urses almost resisted as his pride twitched, the reflex to cling to the one thing that still made him feel in control. But then the control slipped anyway from him as his arm sagged. He exhaled a long shaky breath.
“…Safe,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
His fingers fumbled with the mechanism, slower than he meant to, then he let the rifle go. It clattered softly against the deck.
“I lost my head, sir” Urses said, his voice dry, eyes fixed on the floor, “Thought if I held the line hard enough… none of this would spill over.”
He pressed a hand to his gut and hissed through his teeth, the pain finally catching up now that the fire had burned out.
“All I did was make it worse.”
His face turned to the Captain, sunken and resigned.
“Do what you have to, sir,” he said quietly. “I’ll answer for my part in this disaster...”
