Cape Horn
Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Starry Night | Cape Horn
I was inspired by this weekâs @flashfictionfridayofficialâ challenge - Storms and Thorns. My interpretation is a little thin in definition, but it inspired me, so I grabbed it and ran.
Unfortunately, what it inspired me to do was part of a much larger fic, so in order to keep the word cound down, Iâve written a single 825 word scene based in my Where There Be Dragons fic. I hope this doesnât breach any rules, but in any case inspiration!
Many thanks to @katblu42â for the readthrough and advice ::hugs you silly::
This is Steampunk AU and the main story in that universe. Donât expect much, it is just a little thing, but the most Iâve written in this AU since last year.
I hope you enjoy it anyway ::hugs::
-o-o-o-
Scott Tracy was a bird without wings. He loved the sky, the air, the freedom to move and the speed.
He was not a fish in any shape or form.
Thunderbird Five dove deep as they swept around Cape Horn. It was just as well, as their good luck gave up on them the moment they grew near the vaunted passage. One of the Southern Oceanâs ship-tearing storms blew in from nowhere, forcing John to dip them further below the churning waves.
The winds above, the waves, the icebergs calved from the southern ice lands, and the forbidding rock above and below the water led to the decision to slip off the continental shelf and into the churning open ocean between continents.
He felt Johnâs concentration like a physical miasma infecting everything and everyone on the bridge.
Because everyone was on the bridge, even Grandma. It was as if they all felt the need to gather together as they tackled this obstacle.
Gordon stood by John behind the great wheel, his eyes skipping over readouts and occasionally offering recommendations. No-one denied Gordonâs expertise in all things marine, and while Johnâs knowledge was extensive, he wasnât precious about who knew what. The facts were the facts, no matter who stated them.
Scott was just happy to see the two of them in the same space, actually speaking. It had been tense between them since the accident, but you wouldnât know it to watch them work together smoothly.
For the moment.
Grandma stood to the back of the bridge, likely to keep out from underfoot, but in order to keep an eye on all of them anyway. Beside her stood Eos looking evermore a metal mannikin from a womenâs dress shop. The dress was obviously one of Grandmaâs.
The automaton caught him staring at her and she started, metal eyes widening like they always did when she realised he was watching.
Grandma frowned at him.
He pressed his lips together and, pushing his weight onto his cane, shifted his body back to facing the blackness.
Thunderbird Fiveâs bow was an ordered patchwork of floor to ceiling viewing windows that stretched the length of the bridge. They were built into the bow as a fully functional part of the structure. Hiramâs brilliance lay in their strength, durability and almost 180 degree view they enabled.
Most of the time they were full of greens, deep blues and the gentle flicker of moving water.
Today there was nothing but black.
And Scott hated it.
Around them the massive âbird was solid and reassuring, but every now and again Scott swore he could hear the strain she was under.
Off to his right that thought was only emphasized by Virgil.
His mechromancer brother was standing at the supplementary engineering console, but he wasnât looking at anything. Instead he stood with both hands on the panel and his eyes closed.
He was frowning.
And a gentle glow shone between his fingers.
There was no doubt that Virgil knew exactly the state of Thunderbird Five.
Scott forced himself to look away. There was something intimate about his brotherâs connection and since his mechromancy had shown Scott in vivid detail exactly what it could do to his brother when wielded too strongly, he had grown wary of the skill.
It wasnât that he didnât trust his brother. Nor was he scared of his ability. It was justâŠ
Virgil was his brother and he loved him.
And obviously all this dark confinement was already getting to Scott. It itched and stuck into his side like a thorn.
âPosition?â A subtle abuse of his command to kill off a few minutes doing something other than staring into the depths of dark ocean.
Johnâs voice was crisp as he gave their nautical position. It was nowhere as close to relief as Scott would have preferred.
About halfway.
Scott sighed internally.
âStatus?â
It was Gordon who answered this time. âSheâs performing well.â
Virgil hummed a note, forcing all eyes in his direction. Eyes still closed, he tipped his head to one side, still frowning. âMain port-side propeller is straining slightly more than starboard.â His frown deepened as his fingers flickered dimly. âMight be a slight power deficit.â Suddenly the light beneath his fingers flickered out and he was moving. âItâs minor, but Iâll inspect the generators.â
As his brother strode towards the rear entrance of the bridge, Scott arched an eyebrow. Perhaps he wasnât the only one unnerved by the black deep.
Eos scuttled after his brother.
Grandma arched an eyebrow at Scott.
For a moment, he recognised the opportunity to get off the bridge and away from the firm reminder of exactly how much water was between him and the sky, no matter how stormy and grey it likely was.
But only for a moment. He straightened, his cane tapping softly into a firm grip on the deckplates, and returned to staring out into the darkness.
-o-o-o-
