Chapter 10 - Skysick

Overnight, it rained quite heavily in the area, but not long enough to cause flooding. All of the wood of the top deck, polished by years of military boot prints, was slick. Some of the more experienced men had some short nails stuck into the soles of their boots. Temora put a couple of these in her own as some crewman suggested, before going to sleep. All of the sails were where they needed to be, and would be put up by another shift of sailors. The three of them could get some rest for now.

They went to sleep late, but woke up to brightset anyway. Around the aeroina, a siren was set off at brightset as well. Not to warn of the incoming light, but to wake up the crew for the day's work. The stewards already had brightfeast prepared for them, and it was distributed up through the deck on a pallet hoisted through the floor grates. A simple meal of multigrain porridge, put into a double pan large enough to serve a full bowl to about 40 people. It was sweetened and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg already. It was better than most of them expected, given the arrangements.

At the front end of the deck on either side was a wooden barrel. Inside this barrel was water being constantly produced by a blue colored gem resting at its base. The barrel was partially lidded with an opening for water to be gathered for drinking. Below that lid was an outlet which poured a constant flow of surplus water out as it was generated by the gemin stone.

Nobody on this ship would be without one of these in their home, and normally this outlet went directly to drainage and out to the sewer. The aqueduct and sewer system leading to the edge of the skyland would lead this wastewater to fall into the clouds below.

On this ship, the arrangement was different. The outlet instead fed the water to a second barrel, which contained a red gemin stone. This stone's job was to heat the water, to be used for washing and sterilization. The hot water, still flowing, would then have its excess jettisoned from the craft, out into the clouds. The water it produced was quite hot, near boiling. With a dishrag and her hands, she wiped the remaining sticky porridge out of her bowl. Steam billowed from the rag. As the mornings got colder, the soldiers would soak their rags in this hot water to keep warm. Temora rinsed out the rag and wrung it out. She used this to clean her face.

The final preparations for the ship's departure were complete, and the boarding plank was lifted up from the aeroina platform dock. They did not bother with using the hoist. It was hauled onboard by sheer manpower. Not long after the ship was decoupled from the dock, it was given the go-ahead to take flight.

Each platform had to await its turn for one of its ships to take to the sky. This was their turn. They were the first of the Argentian military vessels to depart from the aeroina. Everyone felt themselves sink toward the floor minutely as the ship accelerated, gaining lift.

One would figure that a flight craft like this would become inclined as it climbed in altitude, but not these larger aeroships. Its, would have been, change in pitch was counteracted flawlessly by each floatstone's desire to keep the ship level. The discovery of this basic principle of yellow gemin was foundational to almost all socioeconomic development of the last four centuries.

No matter the ship's moment of inertia, it was counteracted by the gemin stone. In a roundabout way, it was gyroscopically stabilized. A working aeroship always remained flat. Everyone onboard, however, was still able to feel any changes in the ship's acceleration and yaw. If the ship was rolling or listing, adjustments would be made to the nacelles to compensate.

This was the first time that Temora had been onboard an aero of this size while it was in motion. While she could open one of the porthole shutters to look outside, the top deck was going to give her the best view. She rushed up the steep stairs of the gun decks to emerge onto the breezy top deck. The men in charge of the sails managed to pick up considerable speed. It wasn't long before the aeroina was far below them. Up here, she could see her house, which the ship was level with and quickly climbing away from. Temora waved at her house. Not that her mother would know, nor be awake.

The aeroship continued to elevate to a height that the crew felt would be sufficient for adherence to the Port Authority's rules. Once this was done, they pulled away from the skyland and well outside of the volume of shipping traffic passing into and out of the city. This ship was one of a fleet that would be traveling in an established formation.

There were 6 four-masted ships of the frigate class. Supporting them were about twenty schooners, which served to encounter or board an enemy before they could fire upon the main fleet. Then about a hundred or so sloops. Fast and nimble ships operated by a three-man team that served a fighter-interceptor role. In a pinch, they could be used as lifecrafts in case of emergency. These small ships enclosed the six frigates like a swarm of wasps.

It took about a beat for the remaining ships to leave the aeroina and join the growing clutter. People on the ground occasionally looked up toward them in the distance. From up here, Temora could not make out the whites of their eyes. To them, they were a smattering of sails among the sky. An occasional pocket of water vapor between them.

Temora had a brief moment of enjoyment on the deck, overlooking the rails toward the city below, wide-eyed and in awe, before reality quickly approached with a stamping clatter over the polished wood.

"Novice! What are you doing on my flight deck?" The female captain chipped in a tone befitting her size. It was obvious to her now how she came into a position of leadership.

"Oh, I... umm... sorry!"

"Did I give you permission to come up here? Do you see anyone else with a blue uniform up here?" The tall, middle-aged captain looked her dead in the eye, expecting an immediate and tactful answer.

Temora rapidly checked her surroundings. She did not; all of the uniforms were silver, blue, and gold, the colors of the flight crew. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be up here." She stoically delivered, dumbfounded that she somehow missed this information.

"If we got a gust of wind, you could be thrown out into the abyss either over the rail, or under it!" She yelled, gesturing to above and below the rail with a single arm outstretched and a flat hand. This statement was hyperbole. The flight crew spent plenty of time around the rails. Temora wasn't about to argue with the captain about it.

"Sorry, I'll return below at once." She bowed at once and immediately paced toward the lower decks.

"Not so quick Novice. What are they teaching you at the academe?" Her arms were flailing with wide swings in disbelief.

"Pardon?"

"It was not rhetorical, miss..." She leaned into Temora's uniform pocket. " Fayn. What has the academe taught you about being on an aeroship?" She retracted and now stood with her arms crossed, foot tapping, clicking against the wood slats.

Her recent training taught her everything needed to combat an enemy while on a ship, but not much in the practicalities of the operations of the ship itself. They were occasionally used for manpower when needed. Though, she did find it odd that she was the only one up here to be scolded.

"We learned how to maintain the cannons and how to board. Use the protective equipment..."

"Are you currently wearing that protective equipment?" She quipped sharply toward Temora before she could continue.

"No, but..."

"Return to your bunk, I'll have a discussion with my Prodeans later."

Temora did not bother responding. She walked somberly back toward the stairwell. Upon descending, there was a sizeable group of young men standing at its foot. They knew the mistake she had made and heard the yelling.

"You really are that new to this, huh?" One of the men chimed with a mocking grin, but she didn't react.

Continuing down the steep stairs toward the lower gun deck, everyone was finished with their meals by now. She'd only been gone for a moment before returning to her bunk as instructed. Her two confidants were sitting in the area, seemingly awaiting her return.

Cocole was the first to speak up. "You ran up there before I had a chance to stop you. Being up there isn't our place." He pointed up at the ceiling before resting his arm back between his legs, squatting. "During take-off, we stay down here. When we cruise, maybe we can get some fresh air."

He stood up and walked toward their bunk's gunport. "If you want to look outside, you can do that from here." Cole opened the shutter to the gunport and leaned halfway outside of it. Taking a deep breath and returning inside, he motioned her to come up to the gunport hole.

Temora leaned out into the open air, bending over the sill of the window. Arguably, she had a better view of the city below from here, because the ship and the nacelles weren't in the way. At their current clip, the city was a ways behind them already. Although, the mountainous terrain below the ship peaked. She felt as if she might be able to reach out and touch it.

She took a deep breath in, and, while still leaning over the sill, immediately vomited. Emptying her stomach of the contents of her brightfeast.

"That happen to me my first time in the sky." Albe, sat on a half-height empty crate, turned over. He chuckled, not at her expense, but at the awkwardness of the noises she continued to make outside.

An unconcerned male voice resonated from a deck above. "She throwing up now?" The same young man from moments ago. Temora wouldn't stand for that, but wouldn't be doing any standing in her current state. Her ejection continued.

"Try not to look at nearby objects as they pass. Focus on a point far away." Cocole instructed her through the first time she had ever dealt with motion sickness. She had never experienced this feeling before. A combination of dizziness and vertigo. It wasn't the heights, but the shifting. If she were still on the deck, she would have needed help.

As she hung out, a bright rufescent light washed across her face. It was warm, red, and covered the bottom quarter of the ship. It was enough to shine through the gunport, and into the cabin area; tinting it red as well. The ship lurched forward abruptly, and they picked up speed.

"They finally turned the engines on." Cole stood up from his squat. "Now it'll be a little less cold. It can get bitter as the ship climbs higher." He pointed his thumb back toward the back of the ship. "It was a good call to take us away from the latrines. The engines are gonna warm that up."

Temora heaved again. She was glad they weren't over the city. That would have been awful for someone below, or a lower deck of the ship, for that matter. Though, someone might need to clean the side of the ship eventually. Perhaps a bit of rain would get that off.

She stepped back from the window, filling her mess kit cup with hot water from the barrel, and reached into Albe's storage. Taking a pinchful of his tea, something she'd now become accustomed to doing, she dropped it into the cup to steep. Temora didn't bother straining the leaves. She let her lips alone hold the loose tea back. "Thanks." She tipped the cup toward Albe, which was only out of courtesy. He had plenty to share and always offered.

"My day has only just started." Temora spoke, staring out toward the clouds.

Cocole approached the gunport and closed its shutter. "Maybe not look out there until you're windborne." He tightened his lips, bringing one side of his mouth up, matter-of-factly. She concluded that was good advice for her.

She lay back on her bunk and rested her stomach. Skipping lunch as others around her ate. She fell asleep quickly, which violated protocol, but that protocol was relaxed while still in Argentis. They would still be in the country for a couple of days. When dinnertime rolled around, her friends got her up and practically forced her to eat. Others around them nearly joined in pressuring her to do so. Having the strength to fight when needed was more important. A weak soldier was a liability.

"This does smell pretty good." She looked down into the bowl taken from the serving cart, which was set upon Cole's crate chair. Temora poked at a heavily seasoned fillet, in broth, with her trowel. "Wait, what is this anyway?"

Albe, sat beside her, already half finished. "Blackened flyfish. I say these galleymen have good taste." He chewed a small piece he flaked off with the flat side of his trowel. "You ever ate flyfish?"

"Once." Temora cut into it eagerly. "I don't remember it, though. It would have been with father." She put a quarter of it into her mouth at once. It was lukewarm. "That is... peppered, and salty. Good... but salty. I can barely taste the fish."

"It's to make sure we hydrate, I think. That would be my guess anyway." Cocole was eating the fillet whole with his hands, dripping broth back into the bowl. "Salty food provokes thirst, makes you drink more water." He voiced his tepid conspiracy theory, as there was no other conversation topic.

Temora leaned forward. "Are... are either of you scared of going out there? Encountering, fighting?" A concerned expression washed over her face. She set her trowel down gently into the wooden bowl.

Albe and Cole looked at each other, then back at her.

"We have trained well, and there are many people with us here. We are not alone." Albe looked around at the filled bunks around the mast. Groups of three just like them. Sitting and talking just like them. "We all be nervous up here, but afraid I am not." He leaned a hand against the middle bunk, holding a broth-filled bowl, drinking from it.

"I'm not scared of combat, but I did question who we are combating." Cocole leaned close toward Temora, and whispered close to her. "I think we should be scared of what we are fighting for." A stern expression was plastered to his face, something she had never caught from him before. "I know we are going toward Fraction, on an 'operation', but we don't know where this ride stops." He opened one hand fully next to his face and backed away in steps. For Cole, this was certainly dramatic.

"That is true." She whispered loudly back. She might have well just said it at full volume. Members of the bunk across eyed her. Not suspiciously, but curiously.

The three of them returned to the nearby hot water barrel and cleaned their bowls. Hanging their wrung-out, damp rags to dry across a wood slat on the side of their bunk, they took to lying down.

"Not much more for us to do today. Nor tomorrow, for that matter. Might as well rest while we can." Cole lay down on his bunk. By this time, night was approaching. Temora had already spent most of the day asleep, so she wasn't going to. She took this long night awake, writing a letter under the light of Albe's small personal oil lamp. The letter wasn't long, but she had difficulty finding words that wouldn't worry her mother.