Sketch: Haven at Kaldus

Roselight broke over a different world.

Her warmth across the glassy horizon preceded her. Sheets of ice, jagged boulders and crooked floes, lost their edge, softening, pulling apart from one another, slumping into the sea as amber tones crept across the deep dark sky. As she emerged in the following hours, rosy highlights bloomed along the first tenuous clouds to reappear; the wind came steady, breathing life into the sea. The mirrored surface stirred and rippled and broke, scattering embers of Rosa in miniature.

Kaldus cast a long veil upon the water, its angular cliffsides fluorescing against the gradient sky. City lights still twinkled on its shadowed face, tracing their winding constellations up the island’s cobbled pavements. A few aerostats droned about its serrated peaks.

Sheltered in the rocky coast, Northbay was already metabolizing as Roselight shimmered across the waves. Champions of the night lumbered into the harbor, steel mountains to rival Kaldus itself, escorted by a clergy of pilot balloons; their fortress walls gleamed as they settled in their thrones, attended at once by their skeletal harems.

Haven was a ship, its wings glistening, unused, in the feeble dawn. It crept cautiously amidst the drifting floes, making its measured way into port, holding time and again in deference to Ark titans. Its motor chugged wearily, its blades idly chopping through the crisp morning chill.

Noira watched the ground crews scatter across the dockside, tossing their mooring line and deploying their gantries. In the still air she could hear their calls, orders she’d memorized, rehearsed and practiced so often before, the routine of what was once her life. Her eyes came to rest on the empty pier upon which no workman trod; its monarch lost, its attendants dismissed. She watched gentle waves lap at the berth, the sea unburdened.

She thought about Kori, who had spoken of her wife and children; of the men from the catwalk, cards in hand, laughing to each other under the starlight; of the boy in the lifeboat, the helpless sorrow in his eyes that mirrored her own. What had it been for? Why had the threads of their fate been severed in that hour, and she herself left behind?

The cool breeze sent chills up her neck, her hair tossed about carelessly in the light wind. It seemed so arbitrary, in hindsight. She thought of the hours she’d spent mapping the labyrinth corridors of Ark Royal, the care she’d put into every hour of her shifts, the precision of her labor which had earned her stability in the field for the past few years. Every face she’d seen aboard, the temp crews and the long-haulers, had charted their own journeys, had made their own way. What could any of them have done that night?

It was something she couldn’t understand, and she felt she would never make peace with the question. She looked up, to the aerostats milling about overhead, and thought of the aircourt in Eterna, of her siblings on the platform, so small beside their mother, waving up to her from far below.

“Next in queue! Deck hands to mooring stations!”

Behind her, from Haven’s forecastle, came the Captain’s cry, shattering the tranquility. At once the crew scampered to their posts about the bulwarks, lashing lines over cleats and calling across the deck to one another. Captain Dorian surveyed his ship for a moment, scanning the workers intently from his high vantage; Noira ducked to avoid his gaze. Apparently satisfied with their pace, he descended back into the bridge cabin.

“Look alive, girl!”

Rapid footfalls on the damp metal alerted Noira to a pair of workers bounding towards her. She leapt back abruptly from the rail as they skidded into their places, jointly swinging a lancelike docking pole over the ledge. One of them tossed a pointed look at Noira, glaring up through her close-cropped hair, before turning her attention to the dockside. Noira pulled her coat tighter and turned to walk aft along the deck, resolving to find a more secluded spot along the ledge.

Haven lurched in the water as its motor spluttered into action, a muted, whispering thrum emanating from its props. The sea carved around its bow, parting to Haven’s moderate authority, and the small ship began its approach into port.

Silence drew its haunting veil across the deck. Slowly, tentatively, the crew at their stations turned their eyes upwards. Noira followed suit, clutching the cold railing.

Kaldus stood over them all, monolithic, cold; it looked down upon them from beyond the sky. The droning airships were its eyes, scrutinizing the foreign vessel as the great mountain deliberated its approval.

From all sides, vast Ark vessels fixed their gaze upon Haven, the weight of their judgement a lead blanket upon the deck hands. A few shifted nervously, though none dared avert their eyes.

Cold waves lapped at the hull, apprehensive tones resonating from deep within.

The air was still.

Kaldus relented.

Haven sailed across the threshold.

The sounds of the harbor rose into Noira’s ears. The moment had passed, and she felt her shoulders relax as the crew began to chatter amongst themselves once more.

Footsteps came quietly behind her, pausing as they drew near.

“Noira.”

She turned to see Marion. He stood as upright and composed as ever, but there was a softness in his voice. The sight of him summoned the pain and tragedy of the night back to the forefront of her mind. Unable to meet his eyes, she turned back to the rail, guilt and shame at her own helplessness bubbling up from within her.

He came to the rail next to her. For a moment, they stood together, quietly watching the dockside approach.

“I wanted to apologize. I was curt with you that night, and there’s been much to address in the wake of the accident. I never properly offered you my condolences. I realize you’ve lost much more than an occupation.” He looked over at her, as tears ran silently down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Noira.”

She could say nothing in response, lest she risk losing her composure in front of him again. She managed only to nod to indicate her appreciation. Again they stood in silence, the chatter of the workers filling the space.

Marion produced a document from his coat, seeming to review its contents before he spoke again. “I’ve been in communication with the Company over the past round. I’ll be returning to Tanura full-time.”

Noira clutched the rail tighter. She tried to fight off the thought, but Marion was the only survivor of Ark Royal she’d known. With him gone she would be truly alone.

“However…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve perceived an opening for an additional role in my department. Excavation Devices. There’s new ground to be broken, so to speak, and we — I could use a young trainee to help with hardware development.”

Finally she turned to look up at him. In her eyes was a new light, a feeling she hadn’t known since long before that fateful voyage.

“I’m offering you a position, Noira. The Company has agreed to provide whatever accommodations are necessary for your relocation and housing. I’m aware this is somewhat beyond your area of expertise, but…it could be helpful for you.”

Hope. It had been absent from her life on Orus for so long she had forgotten to miss it. The rounds since the accident had made her feel as though it might have left her for good. Now, unexpectedly, it stood in front of her, offered plainly; the promise that things could still change for the better. It was overwhelming in a way she didn’t remember how to manage; she was crying again, her heart overflowing.

“Now, this isn’t time-sensitive, so you may take whatever time you need—”

“I’ll take it,” she managed. “Please.”

The slightest hint of a smile softened his face, in spite of his poise. “Very well. I’ll work on making arrangements once we’re ashore. My flight for Tanura is in about thirty degrees. I’ll make sure there's an additional seat for you.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

With a jolt, Haven sidled up against the berth. At once, the crew were tossing mooring lines across the deck and leaping ashore. Overhead, the sky was warm, the soaring clouds shining brilliantly in the Roselit dawn.

~     ~     ~

Feeling a bit down lately, so I wanted to follow up the latest plot update with some relevant, hopefully more uplifting prose I wrote a while ago. I'm proud of how this one came out; it's a really important moment that I wanted to capture. It also makes for a nice segue into things to come :)