Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 10

The remains of the helicopter slid to an ignominious halt, right outside the hangar next-door to Number 6. The hangar doors were open and lights were on inside, and some alien jet sat, APU running, airstairs down. "EVERYBODY GO! GO!" Ally yelled, at the same time turning the remaining engine from flight through idle to off. Flipping her goggles up, she threw off her straps and bailed out, the curly-chord separating after two or three steps and hitting her in the back like a reminder. Stopping, she turned to see smoke pouring out of the aircraft, from a main transmission that had been seconds away from disintegrating. And Aisha, still inside, fighting with her harness.

Skidding round the nose, Ally tore the door open then leant inside and twisted the buckle. "Sorry, Babe," she huffed, "are you okay?"

Aisha climbed out and her knees gave way, but she quickly composed herself and reached for her rifle. Ally raised a hand. "It's okay, Aisha, you won't be needing it."

"I'm sorry, Miss Ally, but I have signed for it."

Ally, all in her stolen helmet with the goggles flipped up, gave a nod. "Can't argue with that." Kissing her fingers, she gave the flattened, smoking aircraft one last pat, then took Aisha's hand and set off in a stooping run, rounding the aircraft to find Yan, Penny, Thip and Sophany waiting for them. Fifty meters away, a figure stood just inside the hangar, madly beckoning.

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Leaving Cassandra, Hope and Floraliza at the entrance to the alleyway, Beck and Watson tiptoed off between two hangars, searching for a way in. There was a dependable ubiquity to these aviation facilities, and Beck was sure they'd find an unlocked doggy-door, or at worst an open window somewhere. Sure enough, way down the back, they came across a rear-entrance to the admin office, and past it an engineering workshop that led into the hangar. Beck opened the hangar door a crack and peered through. The lights were off but the emergency exits cast enough of a loom for her to make out the shape of her beloved jet. She looked at Watson jumping up and down. "There she is!" she whispered, clapping silently, "My baby!"

Sagging with relief, Watson swabbed his forehead. "Thank fuck for that! So what should we do?"

Beck looked him up and down, scowling. "You're the crusty old wise man. You tell me."

Watson raised his hands. "Nuh uh. I just quit. Now I'm just a doddering old senior citizen with no responsibility."

Beck gripped his arm and spun him around. "Go get the others and bring 'em back here. I'll meet you at the Stream."

Watson departed, and Beck let herself into the hangar, tiptoeing silently across the concrete floor under the tail. She looked up and her heart sank.

It seemed to take a very long time, and when they turned up, Beck was in the admin office wondering how to break the news. Beck's erstwhile handmaidens were sniffling and hiccupping, and before Beck had a chance to dash everyone's hopes Watson said, "Hope and Floraliza have something to tell you."

"Well I've got something to tell you."

"My Dear Lady Rebekah," Floraliza cut in, anxious to get the dirty work done, "it breaks my heart but we must take our leave."

Beck stood blinking. "Take your leave? What do you mean?"

Hope and Floraliza looked at each other, then Hope dropped to her knees, clutching Beck's legs and sobbing into her thighs. "Get up!" Beck whispered angrily, pulling her up by the arm, embarrassed and confused in equal measure. "Hope! Hope! Look at me. What do you mean, 'take your leave'?"

How to tell this weird, wild creature, with her outlandish friends, and that odd old man she called her 'partner'. They'd committed a list of crimes as long as both of their arms, and if the king should get hold of them- the new one or the old- there wouldn't be enough left to feed the buzzards. What, with Beck throwing her weight around and goading the palace. Having sex with at least one of them in front of CCTV. Escaping the clutches of a murdering prince... now the king... and stealing a royal helicopter. It seemed the young maiden's driving force was some sort of a deathwish, and as much as they loved her, sooner or later she'd get them all killed. "I beg you, My Lady. Where you are going I cannot follow. I want to go home. To my own land and my own people."

Beck turned to Floraliza. "Lizzy?"

Floraliza took her hand and pressed it to her lips. "My Lady." she said, then began sobbing. Beck pulled her into a tight embrace, while Watson looked away and Selene and Cassandra stood smearing their eyes. "I wish I could come. But I have been away from my home and family for so long."

Beck held Floraliza at arm's length, smiling through her tears. "Tell the truth. You're just scared I'll beat you at monopoly."

"My Lady." Floraliza said thickly, chin wobbling. "I... I... I was cheating.

"No shit Sherlock." Beck rolled her eyes. "I know you were. Me and my old man played Monopoly all the time. Didn't we Dommy?"

Watson nodded, happy to play along with the benign little lie.

"Are you angry, My Lady?"

"Nahh... it was worth it for all those body slides. Best I've ever had."

"My Lady," Floraliza blubbed, on the brink of changing her mind, "I wish I could go with you."

"Well," Beck said, then and looked at Watson, "that's the thing."

Watson's shoulders slumped. It was bad news, he could almost smell it. "Hit me, Moosh."

Beck lay her head on Floraliza's shoulder for a quiet cry. Like she'd done countless times before, when she was stressed-out and homesick or simply frightened. She looked up, face glistening with tears, and wiped her eyes. "The number one engine's gone." she said. "The jet's up on jacks. And the cockpit's been pretty much gutted. She's being parted-out. They must be making a fortune."

"But can it still fly?" Cassandra asked plaintively.

"No, Cassie. It can't."

Floraliza put a hand to her mouth. Just when she thought her responsibilities were over. "My Lady. What will you do?"

"It's on a foreign registry." Beck said unconvincingly. "Once we're inside we're technically on foreign soil. OUR foreign soil. Our embassy will have to come and help us. Don't worry, we'll be right."

Never had reassurance rung so hollow. "Hope?" Watson said, "Floraliza? What will you do? Go back to the palace?"

The maids' eyes went wide at the very suggestion and Hope raised her hand. "NO! No. There are many workers here from my country. Many live in housing, near the airport. They will help me."

"Floraliza?"

"If I can get to my embassy they might help."

"If they don't?"

Floraliza shifted uneasily.

"You have no money, no passports." Watson went on.

Hope took Floraliza by the arm. "I will help her." she said. "Many girls escape. There is, how do you say, an underwater group."

"Underground?" Watson suggested.

Hope snapped her fingers. "Underground. It costs money, but it can be done. Don't worry, we'll find a way."

Watson took Cassandra's elbow. "Cassie? Can you come with me a minute. Wait here, Moosh, we won't be long."

Beck watched them go, glaring daggers at Cassandra's back as they stole away into a workshop. Then she caught herself. Her old man had travelled halfway round the world. In a freakish disguise, with a cover story that would leak like a sieve if ever put to the test. Into the maw of a medieval land, and a royal island. He'd risked his life to rescue her, in the most hair-brained, foolhardy, irresponsible manner imaginable. And Cassandra. She'd... well... she'd sort of looked after him. The jade dragon of jealousy that had just uncoiled in her gut, took one look at the weapon her old man had given her and withdrew, hissing, whence it had come. As long as Cassandra didn't mind sharing. Or him, come to think of it.

Next door, Watson bent at the waist and shucked up his robes, exposing his bare lower back and several layers of heavy-duty duct tape. And underneath, five 1-kilo gold ingots, the middle one bearing a deep gouge as if it had been struck by the point of a knife. "Here," he said, "pull out the ones on the sides."

"What are you doing?" Cassandra asked, briefly terrified she was about to be sent packing. She'd fled the Blood Moon, breaching her contract, and was now looking at prison. Even 2 more gold bars wouldn't be worth it.

"Giving them to the girls."

"The maids?" Cassandra frowned, peeling the layers of tape apart and working the gold bars free.

Watson nodded.

"Hope and Floraliza?"

"Who else?"

Cassandra pressed the tape flat again, smoothing it over. "A bar of gold? For each of them?"

Watson shot her a glare. "You don't approve?"

As he straightened, Cassandra threw her arms around his neck. "Approve?" she cried. "Never in my life have I ever met such a beautiful person. Such a beautiful man."

"Well, they're gonna need something." the old man said, taken aback.

"I mean it. You're just so... so thoughtful... whoever you are."

Watson offered a lopsided smile. "Maybe. But bad luck for you. I'm not quite the billionaire you ordered."

"I don't care!" Cassandra sniffed. "I love you, whoever you are. If you weren't already taken..." She left it hanging, hoping against hope he might say otherwise.

"Come on," Watson said wearily. "If they still wanna go they should get on their way."

The others were pretty much where they'd left them, Back, Hope and Floraliza in a clinch, saying their last goodbyes, Selene in the background staying invisible. Watson took Hope's delicate little hand and lay a body-warm bar of gold on her pink palm. Beck looked at Watson and Cassandra in turn then shook her head. "I'm not even gonna ask."

"Take this." Watson said, laying the second ingot on Floraliza's hand. The maids stared at the gold open-mouthed. A veritable fortune, and this strange man seemed to be giving it away. "One kilo each. That should help you on your way."

Beck looked at Cassandra. "Is that gold?"

Cassandra nodded, surreptitiously fondling her own gold bar in the little silk handbag she always carried.

Clutching the treasure to her chest, Hope gave Beck one last hug, then took Floraliza's hand and pulled her to the door before the crazy old bleacher could change his mind. Halfway there, Floraliza pulled free and ran back to Beck. "My Lady?" she said, throwing her arms around her former mistress, "Will I ever see you again?"

Beck gave Floraliza a squeeze. "Remember these three words. Roger... Bragg... and Lawyer. Goggle it when you get back home. He lives in Australia. Find him and you can find me."

"Floraliza!" Hope called, "We have to go. Daybreak is coming."

Floraliza stepped back, smearing her eyes. "Roger. Bragg. Lawyer. I will find him, and I will find you."

"And when you do bring Hope along with you. For coffee with that kangaroo, remember?"

They hurried away, silent as shadows. Beck watched the door close behind them, feeling bereft, as Cassandra said, "They were nice."

"Hope risked her life for me." Beck sniffled. "Not even risked. She knew Rashiid would kill her when he found out."

"What for?" Cassandra asked.

"Hope let the palace know it was Rashiid who had taken me. It was meant to look like the southerners but it was him. He was gonna start a war."

Watson squinted at her. "He wanted you that bad?"

"Why not?" Beck sniffed. "You're the one who always said my body could start a war."

"Or end one." Watson reminded her.

Cassandra bit her tongue, badly wanting to ask, 'What about mine?'

"And what was that cloak and dagger about?" Beck demanded. "Going next door to get the gold. Where were you hiding it?"

Watson turned and hiked his robes up. "I didn't want to offend your delicate buddies."

Beck covered her mouth, tittering. "Oh, you idiot. Where did you steal that?"

"Roger. Where do you think?"

"This one's got a cut in it." Beck said, tracing a gouge in the gold and several layers of duct tape.

"Remember when that knuckled-dragger tried to stab me?"

Beck palmed her forehead. "Jesus Christ! Damon Watson. How many times is that?"

"What?"

"That the Universe has saved you?"

"Saved both of us, actually." Watson shrugged.

"He would have killed you."

"Well, he was doing his best."

Beck raked her hair back. "Well let's just hope we're good for a few more favours." she sighed, looking up. "Universe, if you're listening."

"Come on," Watson said, tilting his head in the direction of the hangar, "show me the aeroplane."

They wandered around the dead machine in the near darkness. Bits and pieces were missing all over the place, scavenged by engineers to be sold on the spare-parts black market. The GulfStream was a goldmine in its own right, its components selling at ten times the market rate in those countries stifled by international sanctions. Watson climbed the airstairs and sat down in a cream-lather armchair, tired, worn out, exhausted in every fibre. Beck sat down at the top of the airstairs, golden hood pulled up, chin on her fist, watching Selene and Cassandra play hopscotch on the hangar floor below. As the entitled offspring of a ruthless military officer, in a country riven by political violence, Cassandra had long ago perfected the art of blissful ignorance. And as for Selene. After a childhood of rural poverty and struggle, even Buddha turned to her for lessons in detachment.

Beck looked at her bare wrist. "How long has she been gone?"

Watson shrugged. "About that long."

Beck shot upright and snapped her fingers. "Hey! We still have a helicopter."

"If she hasn't lost it." Watson said, unable to rouse any optimism. "Or broken it. Or sold it for a ticket back home. How much fuel does that thing carry?"

"Enough to get us out of here with any luck. Anywhere would do."

Watson yawned. "Maybe we could lob into a fishing village. Swap it for a boat."

"Or just head for the border. Seek political asylum."

Watson gave a grunt. "Mental asylum more like it."

Cassandra hurried up the stairs and leant into Beck. "My Lay..." she whispered, "I mean Beck... Sellie really needs a toilet."

Beck gave a flick of her fingers. "Just tell her to pee in the corner. I won't look."

Cassandra put her lips to Beck's ear. "It's not for a pee." she said. "I think her thingy just started."

Beck's eyebrows elevated. Compelled by the laws of the sisterhood, she lay a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "Try the admin area." she said quietly. "There's gotta be a dunny in there. Has she got what she needs? All girl aeroplane." she thumbed over her shoulder, "We have a secret supply."

"I've got some." Cassandra nodded, patting her handbag. The bare essentials, enough for the first day. Oh, and a wad of cash. And a gold bar she could sell for fifty-odd grand. "Don't go without me." she said, turning to step lightly down from the plane.

"I'll do my best." Beck said into her knuckles, eyes closed, chin on her fist. Giving the girl a good minute's come back time, she looked at the old man over her shoulder. "Jeezuz, Dommy. What are you gonna do with that ditz?"

Watson shot upright, wrenched back from the precipice of sleep. "Wha... who... What Moosh? Did you just say something?"

"I said what are you gonna do with her? I mean, isn't it time you cut her away? Got rid of both of them?"

"Well no, obviously, not right now. Not since we've committed several capital crimes."

"Well, they haven't, surely. They were just, like, innocent bystanders. You're gonna have to do it sooner or later. Isn't it time you sent 'em back home?"

Watson struggled upright, swiping sleep-drool from the corner of his mouth. "Hang on. You're the one who said I had to take care of 'em. Cos' I bonked 'em, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

Watson got wearily to his feet, then sat heavily beside his girl at the top of the stairs. He draped his arm over her shoulders. "What's your problem, Moosh?"

Beck leant into his familiar warmth, inhaled his familiar smell. "It's Cassandra. She's such an airhead. And Selene. What a zero. She wouldn't say boo to a goose."

Watson yawned. "They're models, Moosh. I don't think that takes a PhD."

"They follow you around like a couple of little puppies... I swear if you threw a stick they'd run off and fetch it. And Cassandra. I've seen the way she looks at you."

Watson gave Beck a squeeze. "Do you think she thinks I'm cool?"

"I'm serious. With that sweet little face and those sweet little tits. And I don't think I haven't noticed. She's got a two-finger thigh gap."

"Yours is three."

"I'm serious, Damon. Are you falling in love with her?"

"Me?" Watson hooted. "Asks the king of Ab Aldafra's fiancé?"

"Like I had a choice."

"Like I did." Watson said and heaved a sigh. After a short silence he spoke up. "You've lost your sword."

"I keep cutting the fucking thing's head off but it keeps coming back." Beck cried. "She's a total little firecracker, I'll be honest, and so is Selene. And to be perfectly honest I wouldn't blame you."

"You know," her old man sighed, "the first time I ever laid eyes on Selene, Cassie was fucking her."

Beck shot upright then slowly turned to look at him. "Cassandra?"

Watson nodded.

"Was fucking? That sweet little China doll?"

"Like crazy. While I was sitting watching in an armchair. Interfering with myself, while they tribbed. Cass said Selene was so wet she almost slipped off. And then, when I came all over them..."

Beck thumbed in the direction of the admin office. "Those two were tribbing?"

"Like their lives depended on it. Then, when they finished, and I got behind Selene, Cass slid underneath and put me in."

"And she didn't get jelly?" Beck asked, eyebrows elevated. "Cassandra I mean? When you poked Selene?"

"Jelly?" Watson exclaimed, "She was right there with me, slapping my ass cheering me on."

"Oh..." Beck said and sat back looking around. "Oh..."

"Still, if those girls are making you feel insecure... I'll give 'em some gold and tell 'em to beat it. Instead of beating me. If you get my drift."

"NO!" Beck raised a hand, "No. I mean... they've come with us this far. And Cass did show us that boat."

"Even if it was mostly submerged."

"It's the thought that counts. And she showed us the chopper as well don't forget. And you didn't see, but Selene tried to smash one of those knuckle-draggers over the head. With a big fuck-off rock. That was pretty cool."

They sat in silence for a while, then both spoke up at the same time. Watson won the game of, 'No, after you', and Beck said, "Cassandra... Do you think if I asked her nicely?"

Watson bumped her with his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure, even if you were a little impolite. 'Oi! You! With the sweet little tits and big grey eyes! Get over here'."

"And Selene?"

They both looked up at the sound of running footsteps. Cassandra pulled up at the bottom of the airstairs and thumbed over her shoulder. "You guys! There's an airplane next door. In the next-door building."

Beck and Watson swapped a glance. "What sort of airplane?" Beck asked.

"A jet. Like this. And all the lights are on."

Beck was already on her feet, heading down the stairs. "In the plane?"

"In the building."

They waited for Watson to join them, then followed Cassandra through the unlit hangar, into the admin, past the toilets, 'men' to the left and 'Ladies' to the right. Then through another door into a vast, well-lit hangar. Beck stared, slack-jawed, at the hulking great aeroplane, like a GulfStream on growth hormones, its varicoloured paintwork- reds, golds, purples- gleaming under the lights.

"Well waddaya know?" Watson breathed, "It's the Shanghai express. This is how we got here. Sookie and me."

Cassandra looked at Beck, her face a portrait of disarming sincerity. "Do you think it will help?"

Beck took Cassandra's face in her hands and kissed her on the lips. "Know what I'm gonna call you from now on?" she asked and Cassandra shook her head. "Our little Pathfinder."