Jenna nodded. “I think you’re right,” she whispered.
Bekka smiled. “You’ve come a long way, Jenna,” she told her. “I’m proud of you, and proud to call you a friend.”
Jenna smiled and blinked back the wetness in her eyes. The half-elf was right: she had come a long way. She took a deep breath and stood, then leaned over to give Bekka a hug. Both woman smiling in surprised embarrassment, the first mate turned away to find the Captain.
Bekka watched her leave and sniffed back the tears. Xander could only last so long, she knew, and it would take many hours to have the ship in a condition that gave it a chance against the wind spirits above them. Then there was the matter of being able to land again with a strut so damaged that it would not hold their weight. A tear ran down her cheek. She vowed that she would not end up like Kaskins or those of her youth. She reached down to touch the pistol she had tied to her side. It was cold and brutal, an alien weapon to her that she normally disdained. Now it gave her a measure of grim hope.
* * * *
The shifting had strained the aft port landing strut as well, though Dexter and Rosh, under Willa’s surprising tutelage, were able to shore it up safely enough. The bow strut was worse than ever, and not something Dexter had any idea how they would fix. Even Willa, who seemed to be somehow channeling Kragor’s knowledge and skill, was silent about it.
“Captain!”
Dexter glanced up at the sound of Logan’s voice calling to him. The man was largely quiet, but as far as he was concerned, he had proven his worth in gold that day by helping as he had and, more so, by helping Rosh escape a crushing end under the landing strut.
“Aye?” Dexter asked.
Logan looked up to the sky. The mists had been slowly parting, allowing them to stare into the ruins and see the bodies moving about them more clearly. Expressions and details were still difficult to make out, and now that the sun was setting darkness was shrouding what the mist could no longer hide.
Dexter followed his gaze and saw what troubled the priest. With the setting of the sun the moon was due to emerge; the moon that had been waxing the past several nights.
“I must go below,” Logan said, his voice somewhat labored.
Dexter frowned, but nodded. He had to find out just what the ailment was that affected the priest, but he had no time to do so now. Now they faced a far greater problem. A wet growl from behind him reminded him just how great their problem was.
“Cap,” Rosh said after Logan left. “You see how he kicked that stone into my side earlier?”
Dexter glanced at Rosh, then returned his gaze to the ruins and the bodies that tried to find a way past the protective charms Xander had placed around them. He had not seen what Rosh had referred to, though.
“That weren’t no light stone,” Rosh said. “It held up the ‘Hawk long enough for me to get out!”
Dexter nodded again, “You saying you couldn’t have done that?”
Rosh snorted. “Yeah, I’m saying that! Leastways not without breaking my foot and walking funny for a few weeks after.”
Dexter looked over at Rosh again. “What else are you saying?”
Rosh shrugged. “Just saying that ain’t right is all. If this were my boat, I wouldn’t want something that ain’t making sense on it.”
Dexter’s eyes narrowed. “Good thing it’s not your boat then,” he told him. “If it was, you’d be holding up the ‘Hawk and having trouble drawing a full breath.”
Rosh opened his mouth to retort, but found nothing to say. He clamped it shut a moment later then turned away to study the strut with Willa some more. Dexter looked away as well and went back to the where a rope ladder hung from the railing of his ship.
“Problems?” Jenna said softly when she saw him come up over the edge.
Dexter shook his head, dismissing it. They were in a tight spot, tempers were bound to flare. It did not make it right, but as long as there was no mutiny going on, they could still work together and find a solution. Speaking of working together…
“Shouldn’t you be helping Bekka?”
Jenna shook her head. “She’s able to do it fine on her own,” she said. “I need to show you something.”
Dexter sighed softly and followed her as she led him down to the bridge. Once there she shut the door behind him and turned as if to point out a problem with the outer hull. He followed her gaze and stood close to her.
“This is what I should be doing,” she said to him, then turned to the confused Captain and pressed her lips against his.
Dexter’s eyes widened and he pulled away from her. “Are you mad, woman?” He hissed at her. “You know what kind of trouble we’re in here?”
Jenna just stared at him. “Dex,” she said, her eyes sparkling with moisture. “I asked Bekka how she had seen this kind of thing before and she told me. The ‘Hawk’s in bad shape, she’ll take hours to make airworthy again.”
“From what she told me about them that’s out side, getting away’s the only way to deal with them. The mist will leave eventually, but those touched by it are cursed and won’t stop coming for us until they’re put down or we join them.”
Dexter listened intently. He was glad that Jenna had gotten the information out of Bekka, proud of her, even. On the other hand, her behavior was disturbing him.
“Thirty some men, who knows how many of those Perryn, and who knows what else,” Jenna said. “There’s only ten of us, including Aidan, and he’s done nothing but stare into the mists for a while now.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, suspecting her ulterior motive but wanting to know for sure.
“I’m an elf,” Jenna said after a deep breath. “We live for hundreds of years; I’ve already lived over a century. I’m patient… I’ve been waiting for you for how long now?”
“I’m afraid to wait any longer,” she said. “Dex… I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to see you like that… or any of them! If you came after me I don’t think I could do what I had to.”
Dexter stared at her. “We got a lot of fight left in us yet,” he pointed out, feeling somewhat drained by her grim outlook. “Xander’s spell is keeping us safe too.”
Jenna nodded. She smiled sadly, “He’s human, he can only go for so long without sleep and he’s had a rough week already between the brewing and today’s action.”
“So what are you for then?” Dexter asked her bluntly. He was angry with her for stating things thusly and angry with himself for not being able to counter her arguments.
“Love me, Dexter,” she whispered, a tear running down one cheek. “We may not have much time left, let’s take what we can and share it.”
Dexter felt himself drawn to her and, for a brief moment, he wanted to give in to her. Her arguments were sound; his desire for her considerable. His reasons for abstaining seemed petty in light of their troubles. He leaned in and kissed her, sharing a moment in time that stood still for both of them, yet vanished in an instant of ache and longing.
“We’re not done for yet,” he said to her, smiling.
Jenna looked at him, frustration and longing on her face. “We who?” she asked him bluntly.
He grinned. “All of us,” he said, and then he turned to head back up on to the deck.
Jenna reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him up short. “Dex, I-“
He turned to her and shook his head. “Jenna, stop worrying,” he told her. “If we was that done in, you think I’d be turning your offer down?”
He gave her hand a squeeze and then let go, heading with quick and powerful strides out of the bridge and back up on the deck. Jenna watched him go, fresh tears running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, recomposed herself, and then laughed softly. In spite of their situation, in spite of his apparent rejection, she was smiling. It made no sense at all, but by doing what he had done he had renewed her faith in him and her hope they might live. She shook her head, wiped her tears, and followed after him.