By the time they'd arrived at the dockyards, Cora was still saying silent on the matter of her new eyes. She'd bandaged the front of her face across the eyesockets, claiming she didn't want to horrify anyone with the sight of them.
But Ana had caught her smiling and if Cora was smiling, it meant that something must be growing in those sockets.
If only they had Nate on hand to speed it up.
With just her white bandages covering her face, she looked a little odd, but Ana had seen much more oddities in people, especially the cybermodded.
They landed in the dockyards without any fanfare. Watta Lien Bay was a port built into the sea, the only way they could find enough space on the crowded planet of Tarnarus. Most of the Lunari military was serviced in Watta-watta, as the locals called it, and with that much need came the best mechanics, engineers, shipbuilders and interior designers and builders.
And with the resources in place, so came the nobility, because nobody wanted to settle for second best.
They had descended slowly, wanting the best view over the mass of ships, docked in an extending radial around the central circular plaza of workers. Gleaming whites with yellow stripes for the nobles' small ships, pure whites for the military battlecruisers, their skin marked by the tell-tale blasts of bug fire.
Regular shuttles could take you or your cargo back to the mainland, but Ana could see that an industrial village had popped up in place of one of the docking positions. Shanties and shops, for the worker that didn't want to — or more likely, couldn't afford to — travel back home before the new day.
She scampered down the ramp, trying her best not to walk like a Princess, swinging Cora's hand back and forth as she guided the blind girl.
The security guard looked appropriately scandalized.
"Your majesty, we weren't expecting—"
"And you weren't meant to," Ana interrupted. "I am conducting an investigation into the embezzling of royal funds. If you tell anyone of my presence, I shall assume that you are involved. Am I clear?"
"Yes, of course—"
"Good, thank you." Ana beamed at him. "You're very good at your job, I can tell. Perhaps you should go welcome that three-pronged Wingwave landing over there?"
"Yes, thank you, your Majesty." The man bowed his head, pale, and practically sprinted away.
"Embezzling?" Cora muttered to her, clinging to her arm.
Ana shrugged. "Could be true." She pulled Cora along, neck craned to stare at the ships above. It was a sight that never failed to amaze, these great beasts casting their shadows, enormous cranes rising alongside them, walkway rigs, hanging panels. Sometimes, they'd been opened up like a tin can and you could see inside, the magic trick revealed, the naked frame, a blimp without its covering.
Figures worked within or outside, sometimes harnessed, sometimes striding along a wing, not even as big as the lettering on the wing.
"I wish you could see this." Ana told Cora.
"Eh, not my first dockyard. I do love them, though. Aside from the smell," She wrinkled her nose.
The sea salt spray was a pleasant scent; less so the sulfur of the fuel and the furnace where metal was being bent and treated.
It didn't take long to find the ship that the Prince had escaped on. They'd seen it coming in. And they'd also seen the supremely high corrugated fencing around it, as thin as could be but still unclimbable.
"They've fenced it in. High walls." Ana muttered.
"Is that unusual?"
"Not really. Even noble ships carry weaponry and you don't always want others to see what you're carrying. Might be seen as uncouth, see?"
"Carrying quad-stacked plasma beamers on your pleasure liner might be a bit vulgar, huh?"
"Something like that." Ana smirked.
"What's the security look like?"
"Just two but they look big and...and mean." Ana hesitated.
"Really?
Mean?"
"If you could see them, you'd agree."
"Can you do your hoity toity Princess thing?"
"My what?"
"You know — your 'begone peasants, do not even look at my face' thing."
"I don't do that!" Ana said, affronted.
"You literally just did it to that security guy—"
"I was very reasonable."
"He's going to piss blood later—"
"Don't be uncouth—"
"Oh, now
I'm
uncouth."
Ana paused, examined Cora. Twitching lips. "Are you playing with me?" She demanded.
If Cora had eyes, she would have rolled them, but she still tilted her head to the skies. "You think? Look, just point me at the big meanies, I'll take care of them, you go in and do your thing. Okay?"
Ana felt a pit in her stomach. "But-but what are you going to do? You can't even see!"
"I'm going this way." Cora declared, stepping in more or less the right direction. "Just watch."
Ana did watch as Cora walked forwards, hands outstretched, a pink-haired blindfolded creature of the undead.
"Alright there, ma'am?" Ana heard one of them say.
"Who is that there?"
"Ma'am, we need to you to step back. This is a private area."
"Oh, I'm looking for the private area. I've been booked, see? Don't tell anyone, but I'm the very private dancer, if you get me?"
"Ma'am, this is not a dance area—"
Cora reached out to pat the guard. Ana choked. Her hand shot down to his waist, grabbing for a can of his impedi-spray.
"Ma'am, what the f—"
Quick as a flash, Cora threw the can back towards Ana, whipped off her bandages and started screaming. "They blinded me! They blinded me! Look at my eyes! Help! Help! Please," Her voice broke into sobs. "Won't someone help me?"
Her red raw eyes bled claret tear drops down her face as she fell to the ground. She cried loudly, quickly grabbing the attention of both the dock's security patrols and passersby.
Ana gaped and then quickly caught on. "They just sprayed that woman's eyes out!"
"Shit, I'm gonna retch." A pampered young man commented.
"You can't trust the security here, they're on a power rush." His pretty date said, tutting.
"No—that—I mean, she was blind already!" The guard cried. His face paled in horror as he realized what he'd said.
Ana took one last look at Cora's dramatic wailings in the center of the gathering crowd, and then easily passed by in the commotion. Past the fence.
The ship wasn't large. It had the emblem of the tribes the Prince represented, a ship in the sea and a ship of the stars right above it. The twin seas. The emblem was painted in copper red, a not so subtle reminder that the history of these tribes was red with blood.
But which of the Lunari tribes weren't? Her mother had made all of them fight for everything they had, for every crumb that came tumbling from Mother's hand.
The ship was lit up — even the computers were on, running a software update. The workers were busy.
She didn't have much time.
But she knew what she was looking for. The engine room was at the back, burrowed under a floor hatch.
It was locked — a old school padlock. Ana grimaced. She should have brought a blaster. She grabbed the fire-axe from the wall instead and hacked at it like a logger, sweat shining on her forehead. The computer sounded a fire alarm, but she'd be long gone, soon enough. The lock split like sugarcane, in two.
Below, the room was cold. Too cold. Engines ran real hot and engineers usually ran engine stress tests when they were on solid ground.
But this engine had more problems wouldn't pass a stress test.
Of the eight core fuselarium flows that ran in the chrome beast, two had been shot up. A black and purple fire radius scorched the flows around it, staining the reinforced glass that contained the fuselarium. A small close-range impact.
A blaster. A handgun.
Not a big bug blast.
"I knew it!" Ana clenched her fist, examining the engine closer. The Prince had been lying.
"But why?" She murmured to herself. "Out of shame...or because he's a traitor?"
"Perhaps I just didn't want to die for the daughter of the greatest psychopath our people have ever seen?" A voice cut through. Elathariel's voice.
Ana tried to turn around, but she was frozen, limbs shaking. In a second, his arms were around her waist, squeezing so hard it hurt.
His breath on her face, cold. "Oh, Ana." He murmured, chin resting on her head.
She tried to say something. "Prince, I—"
"I was just snooping in your engine room, looking for evidence so I can get my murderess mother to execute you, so she can gain full control of our people."
"No, that's—"
His hand drew circles on her stomach and dipped down her leg as she struggled. Tears sprang to her eyes as she wrestled ineffectively.
An elbow to his chest to gain a gap.
He gasped.
She jabbed his face, just like Nate taught her. He only laughed as she backed away. The ladder to the hatch above was closed. She'd never be able to climb it in time.
"Ana, darling," Elathariel called out soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Stay the fuck away!" She screamed, swiping her face clean. "I'll never marry you! I'll never love you!"
He snorted, unbuttoning his shirt. "Who ever said anything about love? You should count yourself lucky, you know. I'm going to bring peace to our people. You're going to be revered as the first wife of Prince Elathariel, the mother of the Twin Seas tribes."
"You could never unite our people."
He smiled, an ugly twist to his mouth. "Something I learnt from your mother dearest — sometimes you can unify by
force.
" He leaped forward, smacking away her punch and wrapping a strong arm around her windpipe.
She gagged, coughing, trying and failing to smash her elbow backwards, trying to find leverage with her feet to push back, trying anything to escape him. Her vision swam.
"That's right," He cooed. "Surrender. I'll make you feel so good." His hand slipped to her ass. "I've never seen such a body."
Ana wanted to fight back. Had to fight back. But she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't...the room was so dark. Everything was so dark.
And then light.
"Arrgh!" Cora yelled. She jumped down and with her she brought down the axe, splitting into the Prince's head. It split like a watermelon, a blood bath. His grip lessened as he sunk lifelessly to the ground. "Fucking rapist asshole!" Cora screamed, wrenching the axe out and bringing it back down.
Ana just cried, covered claret. She was cold until she felt Cora's warmth, hugging her tight. Tears ran down her cheeks, unable to dismiss the thoughts of what-could-have-been.
