Hello my lovelies! (Well, our lovelies, heh) We've finally got something new, for your delictation and delight! And guess where I (Sirocco) wrote this? No other than the Dominican Republic, which fyi is the Caribbean country that shares an island with Haiti - small world, no? What an appropriate place to write. So anyway, here it is...
"At the Atrius Institute in Haïti, the time machine is controlled – well, eh, how do you say, in a 'loose' sense of the word? – by Herr Arkouche. He can lock and unlock the door, and turn on apparatus. And at this end…" Van Müller paused and glanced nervously over his shoulder before turning back to the attentive faces crowded round, on both sides of the brig bars. "At this end, the portal is operated by means of a key, of which there is no copy. Even if we reach the portal itself, and that is unlikely, we will not be able to get home without this key."
"And Halcón has it, right?"
Van Müller nodded to Mulder.
"He keeps it at all times, though he does not yet know its purpose. He only knows it is connected with us, and therefore treasures it. It would be impossible to steal it."
"Well, it's also impossible to escape from this ship, but me and Yelena have done it."
Benson snorted. "Hardly achieving the impossible – you were re-captured, and have had the shit kicked out of you for it."
Soledad slumped and dropped her head onto a dejected hand. "Touché."
"Look," Ken Stewart cut in, "I'm glad you're so sure of yourself, Fernand, but if it's impossible to get to wherever the portal is, and impossible to get the key, then what the hell are we supposed to do? How do we get home? How do we even get off this God-forsaken ship?"
Van Müller scratched his growing stubble pensively. "I am working on this, mein Herr."
"Where is the portal, anyway?" Mulder pressed, impatient as ever and suffering with the ever more violent movement of the ship.
"I believe it is outside a town called Oro Negro, near the coastline, similar to the positioning of the portal in Tortuga. I was able to speak to many people before I came aboard this ship, and I am almost certain that it is there."
"Of course that's not where we're going," added Benson. "But we will be sailing past Oro Negro, right Fernie?"
Van Müller nodded confirmation. "We will be passing it today, I believe."
Benson groaned. "Fate loves to taunt me."
Mulder tried to make a comment on how little time that left them, but found himself suddenly unable to make himself heard over the din. The rolls of storm-laden thunder had been growing longer and closer during the course of the conversation, and at that moment, there was another avalanche of thunder followed by an avalanche of rain. The heavens had opened. Mulder's head shot up,
"Woah!"
Shouts came from above of "All hands on deck!", among a cacophony of names, orders and reprimands. An officer rushed past, slamming his hand on the metal grating and shouting something indistinguishable. It might have been Spanish, as although they all leapt to their feet, Soledad and Yelena rolled her eyes as they did so.
On deck, confusion reigned. The rain was gushing down in bulbous drops that pounded exposed skin and filled their eyes, and the wooden planks underfoot had become covered in a treacherous film of water. Halcón was attempting to stride majestically down the stairs onto the lower deck, though his chic was somewhat spoiled by the careful way in which he observed precisely where to place each foot and the hand that was holding his hat in place against the wind. None of the gang who had just run up from the brig saw, but he had just replaced into his inside pocket a large, bronze key, with writing in a mix of French and Creole stamped onto one side.
Soledad and Yelena were instantly dispatched to the far end of the deck, and Van Müller summoned to join the navigators. Two pirates pushed past Mulder, shoving him against the side of the ship. He needed no further agitation to flop his head over the edge and relieve himself of the sea-biscuits he had eaten earlier, clinging onto the precious wood of the ship for dear life. Gillpoyo, running up, took one despairing look and abandoned all hope of making use of him until the storm was over.
Mulder would have been comforted to know he wasn't the only one falling over – many of Halcón's crew were poorly shod, and they were worse off that those with no shoes at all, when caught in a storm. All over the deck feet were sliding, or in some cases, lifting clean off the wood when it lurched, and here and there were bodies on the floor from when such a slip had resulted in a head being cracked against something and thence unconsciousness.
It was towards one of these bodies that Halcón was striding, careful as ever in his heeled officer's shoes but striding nonetheless; a young hand almost ran into his path, and was struck forcefully aside.
"Let the captain through!"
Halcón stepped forward on the path cleared by his accompanying officer, wiping rain from his eyes, and bent over the figure before him. He seemed distracted; at the back of his mind he was concerned for his precious, valuable prisoners in the brig, and was looking for spare sailors to guard them. He kicked the pirate at his feet.
"¡Levántate! (Get up!)" There was no response other than a groan, swallowed by the roar of the storm. "¡Levántate!"
From above, he was within Soledad's line of sight as she worked at a sail which had come loose and was gathering water. Seeing him about to strike again she made a lighting-fast calculation, then gave a tug on the sail – bringing the water down onto Halcón's head, and knotting off the rope so fast it blurred before her rain-filled eyes.
Halcón's hat gave way under the weight of the cascade and tilted, at one shedding the water and inclining itself onto the wind. It lifted clean off his head and began flying along the deck; Halcón's ferocious expression vanished and he let out an effeminate shriek. He leapt forwards to pursue it. Having utterly forgotten to watch his feet, however, he tripped smartly on the semi-conscious sailor and came down, with a thud and a roll.
Behind him, Soledad swung down from her perch and caught herself in a somersault, flipping forward into a crouch just in time to see Halcón's coat flap open. From an inside pocket, the fateful key slipped out, and was tossed away by a jerk of the ship. Soledad flew after it, leap-frogging a barrel of rum and snatching it straight out of the air. Briefly she stumbled and spun round, eyes alight, to see if she had been seen: it seemed that she hadn't. Yet Halcón was back on his feet, and thrashing his way across the deck in the direction the key had gone – in other words, towards her. His accompanying offer, a fierce Kazak by the name of Karkabayev, had his eyes fixed on her as though he knew what she was up to. She froze; not panicking, but running out of ideas, with the key held firmly behind her back as she tried to push it into her sodden clothes.
A couple of metres away, Yelena turned from what she was doing and saw Soledad, with the key visible through her fingers and Halcón and Karkabayev closing in on her. She didn't understand, but when Soledad looked round and threw her a meaningfully alarmed look, she immediately grasped what was going on. She cast a quick glance around, and caught sight of a bunch of keys hanging from a pirate's waistband. Agile and stealthy as a cat, she reached out and unhooked one while he was looking the other way, and a second later was behind Soledad, relieving her of the valuable Haïtian key and slipping the newly-purloined one into her hand in its place. Having done what was necessary she disappeared, aware that her presence near Soledad would only arouse further suspicion.
Karkabayev glared down at her. "What you doing just standing there, eh?" He shouted through the storm. Halcón caught up and seized her shoulder.
"¿Dónde está la clave? (Where is the key?)"
Soledad looked at him in mock confusion. "¿La cuál? (Which one?)"
He struck her across the face. "Give it to me!"
She assumed an air of carelessness and brought up her hand. "Well I found this on the deck, don't know what it is…" He snatched the key from her and shoved it deep into his coat without wasting the time to inspect it, then glared as though to let her know he was watching her, and hurried away. Karkabayev twisted her arm behind her back and dragged her to where she was supposed to be, leaving her with a blow that drew blood from her mouth. She wiped it away with her sleeve as she watched him retreat to another part of the ship, but from behind her arm, she was smiling at his back.
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Well now you've read the latest, don't forget to review and make us both smile lots!! I'm (Lily) going to be writing the next part, so it could take a while lol! Enjoy!!
Lily and Sirocco
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