A Spit O' Rock

Without missing a beat, Ana replied in a much more cheerful tone, "I can do the cleanin' part now. The rich business will take a while, but I can do that too with some 'ard work. I jus' need to speak good."

Alistair stared at her. "You must first learn to speak well, and care for the manner in which you speak. A true lady does not talk of 'jus' needin' t' speak good'." The professor had seriously drilled him on his speech when he was learning posh, and he wasn't about to make it easy. It wasn't easy. In some ways it was practically like learning an entirely new language.

"Then you'll teach me?" She asked, moving to look directly at him in a hopeful, almost begging expression. "You'll teach me to speak well?"

"Perhaps," Alistair answered. He wasn't exactly hopeful. She didn't seem particularly bright, and he could never teach her all the things the professor had taught him. She seemed much too honest and lacking in desperation to take up charlartanism. And, worst of all, she was not remotely clever. In the world of ladies and gentlemen she would hardly be any prize at all, even cleaned up.

"All we need is air fer the balloon," Ethan told Hywitt, "By chance we crossed paths with a free-faller only an hour or so out'a Central. Used up most our air in pursuit." He glanced at Syme then back at Hywitt, "What's yer price these days?"

Ethan was getting less sure of the situation. He hadn't know Syme was a wizard and the revelation was making him all kinds of suspicious. Who was the blue-blood really? Why had he come along? For that matter who was Juliana?

Ana's grin grew wider. "Great, we can start the lessons tomorrow," She said, turning to look back out at the outside situation.

In her experience, perhaps and maybe almost always meant yes if she was willing to compromise and push the issue. Granted, this wasn't all that important but it would be nice to eventually be able to act like a real lady. And maybe wear some lace and bows and jewels. Or one of those big hats or fancy dresses. She had seen several pictures of them, though down where she lived she never got to see one in person.

---

"Twelve cylinders per ducet, since ya just got out of Central," Said Hywitt, not following after Ethan's glance. That should have been enough to fill the entire balloon from scratch, at least one as small as the one he was currently in front of.

Ethan gave Hywitt a brief nod. "We'll inform the captain. I 'spect we'll be needing 'bout two dozen cyls. Might ask yeh fer some coal too, while we're here."

"Come on Blue-blood," Ethan growled at Syme, as he turned to head back to the ship.

Syme decided it'd be best to protest Reagan's or rather "Holm's" nickname at some later time and only gave him an annoyed look, as he fell in behind the bigger man.

Hywitt waited for the two to get close enough to the ship for him to feel comfortable sending Lefty and Righty to begin to fetch and pile up cylinders, to Righty's annoyance.

Ana was all too anxious to get out of there, waiting outside the entrance door for the two to return. She was quick to head out and finish the transaction, keeping on a brave face. Hywitt was rather bewildered by old Holm flying under a wiry captain who barely looked like she could lift a rock, though her money was money and she hardly looked like any sort of threat.

Once they were all geared up, the airship took off again. Juliana paused in the central room, deciding she was going to take a detour before returning back to the cockpit. She opened the door to her room and pulled out a trunk form under her bed, opening it to dig to the gold hidden under the clothes. She pulled off her kerchief and started filling it with pieces, until she had gotten to 350 ducets worth of gold. She then stood and bundled up the gold, closing the truck and carrying her make-shift sack down the hall to Syme's door. With a moment of hesitation, she knocked.

Syme opened almost at once, "Ah Captain Highland," he greeted when he saw her, "I was just on my way to go find you," His tone wasn't as brisk or cheerful as usual, but he smiled politely, as he opened the door wide for her, "Please come in."

The Heat's captain's cabin looked much smaller than before, now that it was cluttered with the various books, trunks and other tools Syme had brought him. Nonetheless, the clutter was organized and rather than burning an oil lamp or candles a Syme had lit the room with a pure magical glow, shining from what looked like a tiny white star hovering near the ceiling.

"What may I do for you?" he asked.

Juliana stopped to look over the room, edging her way in with careful steps as if she was trying to avoid invisible bugs on the floor. She couldn't help but stare up at the magic light, tilting her head to the side to try and get a better look at it. She didn't remember that being in there before...

No time for distractions, no matter how interesting. Setting her jaw in a feeble attempt to steady her nerves, the young captain looked him directly in the eyes. "Er, Lord Syme, you said 'fore that you're not interested in travelin' with convicts an' that you wanted, er, t'go back to Central City..."

She was not very good at confronting people. At least, she felt like she was doing a terrible job.

"Er, don't think we should. If... if you're not alright with that, 'ere's your big ol' payment back," she said, holding the bundle out to him like he was a crocodile ready to snap her hands off.

Syme had clasped his hand behind his back while she spoke and he looked from her to the money before shaking his head and sitting down at a table.

"I won't say I'm not disappointed with the way things turned out, Miss Highland," he said, "But I certainly won't take your money. Hiring the Heat was a risk I chose to take and you are under no obligation to return any fees which I have already paid."

"But please," he motioned for her to take a seat on top of a large trunk sitting by the table, "Before we say more I'd like to talk to you about your navigator."

Juliana paused, holding out the money for a few seconds after the invitation. She was still not entirely sure what was going on. She had never seen someone refuse a refund of any sort. Slowly pulling it back, she clung it to her chest and moved to sit down.

"Pace? What 'bout 'im?" She asked, still feeling rather small despite the clutter of the room.

"I think it's fairly obviously, after what just happened, that he is not who he said he was," Syme said, "The men at that port were clearly less than law abiding citizens and Reagan was one among them. From what I heard of the conversation, he is known as Holm and narrowly escaped a hanging sentence."

He looked at her, with a worried frown. "Didn't you ask for papers or references when you hired him?"

"N... no," Ana said, looking down at the table, now muttering in embarrassment. "I kindda decided that I don't care about what people were 'fore they joined my crew. Everyone deserves a second chance once in a while."

Alistair actually helped to load the gas into the balloon, and check the lines to make sure all was secure. Though he could not claim to be an expert, he at least showed he knew what he was doing for the most part. Once the ship was headed off again, he took a seat on deck, far away from the rail.

"Your sentiments are clearly meant well," Syme said. He as trying to be polite, but his words came out a little patronizing nonetheless, "But not everyone is looking for a second chance. Or to them the chance you give may simply become a chance to take advantage of an opportunity for selfish means. It could have been possible for Reagan to lead us all into an ambush at the rock this evening. We could easily have been robbed and murdered by his friends and I, for one, see it as a narrow escape that we were not."

---

Ethan oversaw a lot of the transactions and loading, mainly because he didn't trust either Hywitt's men or Ana and her crew to not say/do something stupid. He was thankful that Syme at least stayed out of the way and he was impressed with Alistair's handiness. The free-faller clearly knew his way around both people and ships, which was more than could be said for the rest of the Heat's crew.

Once they were out to open sky and a managed to catch a steady up currant, Ethan set the controls and walked out on deck. He had no intention of heading back for central, but Ana hadn't yet made her decision clear to him.

However, when he didn't find her right off, he wondered over to where Alistair was sitting and casually took out a cigarette. "So," he said, leaning against some ropes and striking a match, "Yeh flown before, 'aven't yeh? I 'sume a shipman knows better than te slip off'a rail. Yeh tick off yer old captain, or was yer starwalk just some bloody mistake?"

"The important thing is 'e didn't," Ana said, keeping her eyes down. "It means I'm right to trust 'im until 'e actually tries to rob us or kill us. I know not everyone wants a second chance, but it don't mean they should be denied one. Not until they've abused it."

"The mistake was in boarding the wrong ship. The captain was none too pleased," Alistair muttered darkly.

Syme let out his breath and absently straightened some papers and a journal that were lying on the table. "Your faith in mankind is both inspiring and terrifying," he commented a little flatly then said more seriously, "I do not want to tell you how to run you ship, Miss Highland, but I will say that, personally, I would return to Central City at once and hand both Fairchild and Reagan over to the authorities. I believe it to be the just and civil course of action. I usually like to think I know best, but whether I do or not, I will admit that it is not me decision to make in this case. As your employees, they are under your protection."

He looked at her intently and his gaze was almost worse than the glare he'd had earlier. He was still disproving, but there's was only a seriousness in his disapproval and no personal grudge or affiliation. "However, I must inform you that if you intend on keeping Fairchild and Reagan on bored, then I will go my separate way once we arrive on Phiah."

***

"Hrm," Ethan grunted lightly and lit his cigarette, "Sto'way then?"

"It's been good workin' with you, Lord Syme, though I think we differ too much on what we think is just and civil," Said Ana, keeping her eyes on the table. She slid the 'pouch' of money closer to him again, muttering, "The offer for a refund is still on the table. 450 doucets is too much for a trip to Phiah."

"Perhaps, but it was my mistake, not yours," he replied, "Keep the money, Captain. I don't doubt that you shall have need of it."

He looked at her with some slight concern. She was so young and he was quite sure that she was also very foolish to be so trusting. I almost seemed irresponsible of him to walk away and let her make her own decisions and he wondered where her parents were, but Juliana wasn't his responsibility and if he tried to take responsibility for her, he'd be infringing on her rights. He could only conclude that behavior such as hers was the reason women and commoners shouldn't be ship captains.

"Do what you think is right, Miss Highland," he said, feeling obligated to at least give some last advise, "But just because you have decided to trust your men, doesn't mean you cannot try to become better informed about the risks you may be taking in doing so. Grace and second chances are one thing, but ignorance and foolish risks are something else entirely." He pushed the money back over to her and got up.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ana said, still looking down at the table and pulling the money closer again. "I'd try to persuade you to stay on the ship, but don't think I can." She moved to stand up as well, still looking down.

Syme opened the door for her. "I'm sorry things did not work out Captain," he said, "I hope for your sake that I am wrong about Fairchild and Reagan."

Despite himself, Syme was feeling guilty. Business was much easier to conduct when you weren't facing young and disappointed young ladies. No wonder most men didn't like the idea of women entering business and politics.

Ana forced a smile in his direction, her worry still showing through. "Good luck on your them... the... this... school thing." She then headed out of the room and for the cockpit. To her surprise and slight annoyance there wasn't anyone there, though she couldn't help but get at least some relief in having some time alone.

If she had a journal, she imagined it would have gone something like this:

Dear journal: Saved a free faller and saw a priate's cove. Lost a crew member in the first 6 hours, but not dead yet and still have all my limbs. So far so good.

"Hrm," Ethan grunted lightly and lit his cigarette, "Sto'way then?"

"No," Alistair answered, somewhat sardonically. "I just fell asleep in a crate and they threw me overboard. Smugglers are much too picky."