Promotion/Day Five of Captivity
His right hand shook uncontrollably, the muscles spasming off and on again. It would end in another few minutes to just tiny tremors. A side effect of what they were dubbing 'Mist sickness'. The nausea had passed twenty minutes ago after they vented the suit and pulled him from it, the exercise in the field another success with the MED suits. The new suit, one that employed lightning enchanted scythes on the arms, was being calibrated in the cargo bay. A new pilot, they said.
The shaking finally turned to tremors, leaving him with a relieved sigh. The General had been walking around the new suit, examining it for any flaws in its design. These were to be deployed in the next sortee.
"So tell me, Captain Bunansa. What is your opinion of the MED suits thus far, now that you had a chance to test them in live fire in Emberstrand?" the General asked him, the leering face studying for a weakness.
Bunansa pressed his trembling hand against his side to hide weakness. "Sir?" He coughed before continuing. "In physical combat, there's no comparison. But we faced mixed forces of firearms, melee weapons, and arcane. To be honest, sir, we didn't fare well against the arcane."
The General frowned darkly at the assessment, beetle black eyes studying the pilot of the MED suit. "I see. And not a single person among your men are magically adept?"
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Unfortunately, no, sir. We were recruited for our melee abilities. The team researchers didn't think--"
"Obviously," the General interrupted, irritation painting his features. He turned to study the new suit model. "Then we know the weakness. I'll see it taken care of. Good work, Major."
Bunansa was confused. Wasn't his rank ...? "Thank you, sir!" he saluted instantly as it came to him.
* * *
Moonlight came through the bars of the window, bathing her cell in an eerie blue light. She lay upon the tiny cot, staring upwards. By her reckoning, it had been five days since her capture, and there had still been no word of rescue from her father or his allies.
'Alone,' she thought bitterly to herself. Her captor had made it clear that she wouldn't be rescued any time soon, not after the damage done to her father. They were in a secure location, he said.
Her ears strained, trying to listen for any sounds that would give her a remote clue as to her location. The sounds of hammers hitting metal, cursing and swearing of soldiers, and the rise and landof airships had been her only clue. Boots scuffed on the stones of her prison outside the locked door. The key entered the lock, and Masha sat up reluctantly.
The door opened, bringing a new visitor than the standard who had shown himself three times daily to drop off food and take out the chamberpot. This new visitor had been a Hume, unlike her Galkan guard earlier in the day. He brought in a tray and a chair with him. A mute nod to the outside guard, and the door shut once again.
"So I hear you're the new pilot?" he began without preamble, placing the tray on the foot of her cot before dropping gracefully into the chair, gray eyes studying the Elvaan captive.
Masha cleared her throat, straightening her clothes to appear the proper lady as her father had taught her. "I was unaware I would be piloting anything."
The gray eyes studied the other woman again, his lips twitching into a smile. "Major Ffam Bunansa. And you are?" His voice drawled, bespeaking upper class Archadian.
The Elvaan studied her new visitor in return, noting the uniform, his seated poise, even the way his eyes studied her. Blonde hair, gray eyes, sun darkened skin that was lightening with being indoors. Officer's cut uniform with special regiment markings. "Of the Archades Bunansa's," Masha responded after studying the other man. The many lessons of childhood flooded back to Masha from her father. "Masha Corlan."
His brows rose, threatening to hide in his hairline. "Related to the General." It wasn't a question. The Major leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tremors in his right hand. "I'm guessing it was not voluntary."
Masha shook her head, casting her eyes downward to study the tremor. "No, it wasn't." She frowned, studying the hand. "Your hand is trembling. War injury, Major? Nerves?" The healer's mind became active, sensing a sickness or injury to resolve. "I've training in being a chirgeon and alchemist..."
"Mist sickness," Ffam responded, shaking his head. He held out his hand, the trembling still there for her to see. He held his breath as the Elvaan took his hand in hers, studying and turning it over to examine. "It comes from being exposed in the suits too long."
"I see," Masha said, her voice sounding absent. Events from Emberstrand whirled in her mind, eyes glancing from the man's hand to the cutlery on the food tray. She had appeared docile in the several days of captivity, waiting for rescue. Her mind whirled as the events replayed themselves, all the sounds, smells, sights. His voice sounded faintly familiar. 'Objective.' "Were you at Emberstrand, Major Bunansa?"
The Hume shrugged his shoulders elegantly, the woman still examining his hand. "Yes, I was. Why?" The trembling in his hand subsided once again, the nerves calming.
"Oh, I was curious," Masha added lightly. 'Now or never,' she told herself. The Elvaan gripped the man's hand, turning it over to examine it once again as her free hand reached for the tray itself. Then chaos broke out.
The try came outwards, catching the man off guard as the dishes crashed to the ground and he fell sideways, temporarily stunned by the blow to the head. Her cell door came open, revealing the large Galka guard. Small and diminutive in comparison, Masha attempted to dive under and between the guard's legs, only to be stopped cold, drawn up by her belt. The Major shook his head, shocked as he stood, food staining the side of his uniform and carrots still stuck to his now disheveled hair.
Masha struggled, held aloft by the back of her belt. The Galka pulled her up to be eye level with the Major, its deep voice rumbling. "What do you want me to do with her, boss?"
Ffam absently flicked off another carrot stuck to his uniform shoulder, gravy still dripping down his cheek. Emotions ran through his mind, none of them rage. 'It's just a girl you helped kidnap and she wants to go home.' His eyes traveled lower, catching the glimpse down her shirt. 'Correction. Woman.'
"I'm starting to like you, Miss Corlan." He looked to the Galkan with what appeared to be a trademark crooked grin. "Just hold her there until the mess gets cleaned up. It's not often a woman gets the better of me. And with a mess tray, nonetheless, Talbott." He waved a pair of fingers in the direction of his forehead in a mock salute before he left.
Masha glared daggers at the man's back, and returned her best withering look to the otherwise indifferent Galka.
Archadians one, Masha zero.
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