Interlude - Provenance

“What about that one over there, then?” queried Keats.

De Havilland raised a set of digital binoculars and started focussing on the details of the vessel.

“It's The Provenance” responds Ylanath, her mouth turning sourly downwards after she had spoken.  “It belongs to the the Paladindrax.  It transports all his own personal wares and interests.  We should keep well clear of that one.”

Ylanath and Keats started looking back across the range of the spaceport for alternatives from the edge of the cliff edge they were lying upon.  De Havilland had kept his eyes firmly on The Provenance, a faint smile spreading across his lips.  Keats turned round and noticed it.  He looked back to the ship and then quickly back to De Havilland.

“Anton, it's unnecessarily risky.  We don't need to do that.”

“It's the last place they would ever think of looking for us.  You have got to admit it.”

Keats turned back to look at the ship.  It was beautiful to behold, the sweeping arcs of the lines across its fuselage suggested subtle power lay underneath that grim dark exterior.  A little spark lit up in his mind as he toyed with the idea of letting lose with such a majestic beast.

“I'm with Keats, Anton”, spoke Ylanath, “It will be well guarded. They wont really be looking for us here now, too much time has passed since we escaped.  We would be wise to seek passage on another vessel.”

The more he thought of it the more the idea pulled at him though.  Having been a guest of The Paladindrax for many months the idea of leaving this domain in his own ship really appealed to him.

“Keats, you have the final say here.  If things go south then it would all be down to you to navigate us back to Twilight safely.  Its your call.”

Keats nodded and looked back at the options laid out below. Lots of good ships, all prospects. 

“We should look to the dock schedule.  That would tell us when ships came in and when they are due to leave. If it were down to me, I would look to that first to determine our best option.”

De Havilland nodded his agreement. “Good call Keats”, he responded and turning to Ylanath asked, “Any idea where they would keep such a thing?” 

*******

Keats poured over the document within the dimly lit office.

“Well, anything?” asks De Havilland urgently. 

Keats lowers the desk lamp further and runs his fingers across the pages.

“Actually, The Provenance is due to set sail in 7 days time.  Not the first ship to leave but its not as far down the list as I had anticipated.  It might be enough time.”

“Enough time?” queried Ylanath leaning over Keats to get a look at the document.  De Havilland held an office door open ajar and was peering into the darkness of the corridor.

“Yes...”, followed Keats, “Enough time to work out how the hell we are going to get on board... AND, before you suggest it Anton they wont be taking any laundry baskets aboard”

De Havilland had his mouth open but promptly shut it again and turned his attention back to the corridor.

*******

There exists only the low pounding drum of the engines whirring not so very far away.  Ylanath and Keats are packed snugly into a small service room that acted as an interlnk hub between different service tunnels for the ship.  The whirring is endless, but comforts Keats, for whom the cold embrace of space feels like sanctuary, like home.  Keats eyes Ylanath unflinchingly suspiciously.  Ylanath looks distinctly uncomfortable about it and starts looking around the room at something else.

The original introduction by De Havilland to Ylanath had been kept very brief and momentum since then had meant that there had not been time to really begin to determine much about her.  There were a few clear observations though; she was breathtakingly pretty, something which Keats was certain De Havilland would not have failed to miss.  She had high cheek bones and dark brown eyes which she emphasised with a mist of black make-up.  She was very tall, long limbed and looked way too thin.  Keats had seen such creatures before in images of court from Masque magic lantern shows.  All beauty and no brains, and not much good in a fight either.  Having said that though, Keats suddenly thought of Chastity. Deadly beauty, brains and lethal at a pinch.

Ylanath wore mostly dark clothes, a mix of leggings, warm layers with an overlayer of finery, similar to lace. She had good boots now that Keats came to think of it, more practical than he had perhaps realised before.  Clearly she was used to walking long distances.

Keats leant forward slowly, “Ylanath, I feel I need to speak plainly with you.”

Ylanath looked at Keats and waited expectantly.

“Our entry on board this ship.  I cannot explain it.  I don't think anyone can explain it.  Certainly not anyone I have ever met.”

Ylanath just looked on at Keats clearly wondering what to say next.

Keats continued, “That is not to say that I am not grateful.  Because I am.  But...”  there was a pause as Keats thought through the next words carefully.

“Anton”, responded Ylanath suddenly, “You are worried for him...”

Keats rested back against the metallic wall behind.

“He's been a good friend to me over recent years.  Stuck by me.  I value that loyalty, Ylanath,  and would gladly repay it tenfold.”

Ylanath leant forward and was about to speak when a grill next to her was suddenly swung open and De Havilland pushes his way though.

“Bloody awful squeeze”, he gasps, “Their engineers must be midgets.”

Keats and Ylanath look to each other knowingly.  Perhaps more would have to be said in the future but for now at least perhaps Ylanath would understand this Keats a little better