Categories > Original > Fantasy > Tradewinds 10 - "Reflection"
VIII
Morning came to find Max up with the dawn, standing of the deck of the Reflection, stretching. Bandit sitting on his haunches as his boy gazed out at the Ocean beyond. While Shades and the others were still asleep inside, he reflected on how great it was to once again have a sky above his head. He had not quite awakened with the crack of dawn, but now that there was an actual dawn to wake up with for the first time since he left Paradise, he was already falling back into a natural rhythm of sorts.
After all that storytelling last night, his dreams were all over the place. Of Tranz-D robots storming the Isle of Paradise. Of the Mall being part of the Harken Building. Of his parents and their party fighting their way through the Building. And, of course, of his own grim struggle within its many walls, as well as Justin and Shades facing those monsters…
“Ah! Good morning, Max!” Abu-Sharrah said, in a manner far too chirpy for anyone but a natural morning person, as he strode out onto the deck. Earlier, Max had seen him sleeping— or meditating, Max couldn’t really tell which— near the entrance to the cabin. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yeah… I guess so,” Max replied, the old man’s question dropping him neatly back into reality. “Did you sleep well?”
“You could say dat.” Abu-Sharrah headed for the bow deck, telescope in hand.
For his part, Max stepped back into the cabin, Bandit lingering for a moment, then trailing behind him. He saw Shades seated in the dinette chair, head tilted slightly to the left; through those mirrorized lenses, there was no way to tell if his eyes were really closed or not. Justin was curled up in the corner, snoring.
“Good morning!” Shades exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Gesturing toward the Reflection’s small galley, he added, “Wake up! It’s breakfast time!”
“Morning?... Already?” Justin muttered, blinking away at the sleepiness as he rolled over and struggled to his feet. Like Max, his sleep had been most uneasy, frequently interrupted by nightmares about being chased by NK-525. Sometimes through Tranz-D, sometimes through the Harken Building; it didn’t really matter. NK’s dead, he told himself, I’m free of that bastard. Though he knew the Enforcer was gone, destroyed once and for all, he now understood it would be some time before he completely got over the horrors he had endured.
Shades stretched as well, again noticing how strange it was after all these years not to have that triangular medallion hanging against his chest. Easy come, easy go, he told himself, reminding himself that there was aggravatingly little he could do about it. Guess I’ll just have to find some other exotic trinket…
Unlike the others, though, his bad dreams had scarcely even involved himself. If it wasn’t John in some kind of trouble, then it was Amy. He hadn’t wanted to tell Max about how John was still grappling with his sinister doppelganger, both wearing grey trenchcoats, and for some reason fighting their recurring battle of wills in his neighbors’ bathroom, of all places. John’s reflection somehow as maniacal and dangerous to him as ever. Will kill himself… Murder… Those words by no means reassuring in the face of these foreboding dreams.
And Amy continued her ceaseless flight, only now she ran through parts of the Harken Building he recognized from his own creepy tour, as well as places he was sure his friends had described last night. In addition to her usual faceless pursuer, she was also accosted by spooky hitchhikers, shambling corpses, even forced to play cat-and-mouse with a certain black van in Justin’s parking garage when she briefly managed to lose her nemesis…
He shook it off, telling himself that now he was free, that now he could really begin the search for his friends. Still, the more he thought about their conversation last night, the more disoriented it left him feeling about just how long that night had really been. He was about to check his watch, but decided that, if they were passing through different realms, it would stand to reason that days and nights might not be the same length from one place to another.
“So what is for breakfast anyway?” Justin asked, noticing with some measure of annoyance how stiff his neck and shoulders were.
“More of the same, I would imagine,” Shades replied.
“Shut up.” Justin wishing silently that, just for once, the universe would give him a choice between something other than bad or worse.
“You shouldn’t complain,” Max told him. “Others are sharing their food with you.”
“As they say,” Shades added, “beggars can’t be choosers.”
“What the hell would you know about it?” Justin pointed out crossly.
Shades shrugged. Hope that’s not what the casserole dish is for, he thought, noting Abu-Sharrah’s stock of mostly canned and dried foods, remembering his old friend Sandy’s Spur-of-the-Moment Casserole. As its name implied, the exact ingredients varied from one casserole to the next, based on the contents of whatever cans he could scrounge up from his mother’s kitchen, all stirred together in one big bowl and nuked to perfection. Just add whatever’s in the cupboard! Vince would often laugh.
But before another argument could ignite, though, Abu-Sharrah returned, and they began preparing breakfast in earnest. Turned out that Shades was right, and their meal did bear a strong resemblance to last night’s dinner.
Shades himself ate light this time. Max and Justin had clearly traveled on seagoing vessels before, and it didn’t take them long at all to rediscover their sea-legs, while this was his first time on the high seas, and he was beginning to wish he had left his stomach back in Centralict. Thanks mostly to Sandy’s bandmate Becky Chandler’s family cabin cruiser, he had his share of experience boating on Flathead Lake, and he suspected that was all that kept him from losing his lunch. The real secret, he quickly figured out, was in keeping a balance, allowing himself to become neither hungry nor completely full.
Somehow the conversation kept revolving back around to the Triad and their betrayal; Justin just wouldn’t leave it alone.
“If you guys don’t want the damn things back,” he reiterated, taking the same tactic as last night, “that’s your business, I guess. But I’m goin’ after them, and when I get them, they’ll be mine.”
“Whatever.” Shades doubted anything he said was going to change Justin’s mind.
“There is the principle of the thing,” Max admitted, drawing on one of Shades’ favorite expressions. “They did steal from us, and I’m sure they’ve stolen from others, too. The problem is, I can’t see any way to take them back as things are.”
“Point,” Shades conceded. “Still, since there’s nothing we can do about it, then why worry?” Then, seeing a possible way out of this irritating repeat-loop, he offered, “But if we ever do run into them again, I’m behind you all the way about confronting them.”
“Yeah,” Max added, hoping his friend had figured out a way to appease Justin, “if we do meet them again, count me in.”
“But in the meantime, we should think of what we’re going to do right now.” Shades wasn’t about to devote his life to a wild goose chase. Or maybe he was, and it was just that he had his own to attend to already. After all, in such a vast world, without any leads, his own chances of finding both John and Amy were almost as astronomical as Kato’s. But that’s completely different, he told himself, then said, “It pisses me off too, man, but I’d rather get on with my life than dwell on the past.”
I already have enough past to try not to dwell on.
“Fine.” Justin was starting to conclude that he was alone in his quest for vindication.
“Kato is a fool,” Shades remarked. A fool who would probably waste her entire life chasing that particular rainbow. “If I were a betting man, I’d say her chances are about the same as being struck thrice by lightning.”
Abu-Sharrah just shook his head and kept out of it. Neither Max nor Shades were surprised to hear Justin’s response. Sadly, they both expected him to part ways with them at the first opportunity. Shades could tell Max really liked this guy in spite of his attitude, and he wasn’t sure how his friend was going to take it.
After breakfast, Shades stepped out on the deck with Max to practice with their new weapons, figuring it might at least take his mind off his unsettled stomach. The Reflection was a small ship, and there wasn’t a lot of room on the rear deck, just barely enough for their purposes. Shades’ stun-sticks were identical to tonfa, so there was no need to adapt any of his kata to them. One of the coolest abilities of these energy weapons, he quickly discovered, was that he could use arm blocks to deflect Max’s energy blades. Max’s ankle was still stiff, so he kept a mostly defensive stance while Shades practiced his offense.
Later, Justin got into the act, but at first he just watched. He didn’t have to observe long to realize that Shades’ unassuming appearance hid an unexpectedly competent fighter. Don’t take me lightly… Shades’ words echoed in his head, and he was now fairly sure that he would get his ass handed to him in a clean fight with this guy.
Guess I’ll have to get Max to train me some more, he thought glumly.
Morning came to find Max up with the dawn, standing of the deck of the Reflection, stretching. Bandit sitting on his haunches as his boy gazed out at the Ocean beyond. While Shades and the others were still asleep inside, he reflected on how great it was to once again have a sky above his head. He had not quite awakened with the crack of dawn, but now that there was an actual dawn to wake up with for the first time since he left Paradise, he was already falling back into a natural rhythm of sorts.
After all that storytelling last night, his dreams were all over the place. Of Tranz-D robots storming the Isle of Paradise. Of the Mall being part of the Harken Building. Of his parents and their party fighting their way through the Building. And, of course, of his own grim struggle within its many walls, as well as Justin and Shades facing those monsters…
“Ah! Good morning, Max!” Abu-Sharrah said, in a manner far too chirpy for anyone but a natural morning person, as he strode out onto the deck. Earlier, Max had seen him sleeping— or meditating, Max couldn’t really tell which— near the entrance to the cabin. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yeah… I guess so,” Max replied, the old man’s question dropping him neatly back into reality. “Did you sleep well?”
“You could say dat.” Abu-Sharrah headed for the bow deck, telescope in hand.
For his part, Max stepped back into the cabin, Bandit lingering for a moment, then trailing behind him. He saw Shades seated in the dinette chair, head tilted slightly to the left; through those mirrorized lenses, there was no way to tell if his eyes were really closed or not. Justin was curled up in the corner, snoring.
“Good morning!” Shades exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Gesturing toward the Reflection’s small galley, he added, “Wake up! It’s breakfast time!”
“Morning?... Already?” Justin muttered, blinking away at the sleepiness as he rolled over and struggled to his feet. Like Max, his sleep had been most uneasy, frequently interrupted by nightmares about being chased by NK-525. Sometimes through Tranz-D, sometimes through the Harken Building; it didn’t really matter. NK’s dead, he told himself, I’m free of that bastard. Though he knew the Enforcer was gone, destroyed once and for all, he now understood it would be some time before he completely got over the horrors he had endured.
Shades stretched as well, again noticing how strange it was after all these years not to have that triangular medallion hanging against his chest. Easy come, easy go, he told himself, reminding himself that there was aggravatingly little he could do about it. Guess I’ll just have to find some other exotic trinket…
Unlike the others, though, his bad dreams had scarcely even involved himself. If it wasn’t John in some kind of trouble, then it was Amy. He hadn’t wanted to tell Max about how John was still grappling with his sinister doppelganger, both wearing grey trenchcoats, and for some reason fighting their recurring battle of wills in his neighbors’ bathroom, of all places. John’s reflection somehow as maniacal and dangerous to him as ever. Will kill himself… Murder… Those words by no means reassuring in the face of these foreboding dreams.
And Amy continued her ceaseless flight, only now she ran through parts of the Harken Building he recognized from his own creepy tour, as well as places he was sure his friends had described last night. In addition to her usual faceless pursuer, she was also accosted by spooky hitchhikers, shambling corpses, even forced to play cat-and-mouse with a certain black van in Justin’s parking garage when she briefly managed to lose her nemesis…
He shook it off, telling himself that now he was free, that now he could really begin the search for his friends. Still, the more he thought about their conversation last night, the more disoriented it left him feeling about just how long that night had really been. He was about to check his watch, but decided that, if they were passing through different realms, it would stand to reason that days and nights might not be the same length from one place to another.
“So what is for breakfast anyway?” Justin asked, noticing with some measure of annoyance how stiff his neck and shoulders were.
“More of the same, I would imagine,” Shades replied.
“Shut up.” Justin wishing silently that, just for once, the universe would give him a choice between something other than bad or worse.
“You shouldn’t complain,” Max told him. “Others are sharing their food with you.”
“As they say,” Shades added, “beggars can’t be choosers.”
“What the hell would you know about it?” Justin pointed out crossly.
Shades shrugged. Hope that’s not what the casserole dish is for, he thought, noting Abu-Sharrah’s stock of mostly canned and dried foods, remembering his old friend Sandy’s Spur-of-the-Moment Casserole. As its name implied, the exact ingredients varied from one casserole to the next, based on the contents of whatever cans he could scrounge up from his mother’s kitchen, all stirred together in one big bowl and nuked to perfection. Just add whatever’s in the cupboard! Vince would often laugh.
But before another argument could ignite, though, Abu-Sharrah returned, and they began preparing breakfast in earnest. Turned out that Shades was right, and their meal did bear a strong resemblance to last night’s dinner.
Shades himself ate light this time. Max and Justin had clearly traveled on seagoing vessels before, and it didn’t take them long at all to rediscover their sea-legs, while this was his first time on the high seas, and he was beginning to wish he had left his stomach back in Centralict. Thanks mostly to Sandy’s bandmate Becky Chandler’s family cabin cruiser, he had his share of experience boating on Flathead Lake, and he suspected that was all that kept him from losing his lunch. The real secret, he quickly figured out, was in keeping a balance, allowing himself to become neither hungry nor completely full.
Somehow the conversation kept revolving back around to the Triad and their betrayal; Justin just wouldn’t leave it alone.
“If you guys don’t want the damn things back,” he reiterated, taking the same tactic as last night, “that’s your business, I guess. But I’m goin’ after them, and when I get them, they’ll be mine.”
“Whatever.” Shades doubted anything he said was going to change Justin’s mind.
“There is the principle of the thing,” Max admitted, drawing on one of Shades’ favorite expressions. “They did steal from us, and I’m sure they’ve stolen from others, too. The problem is, I can’t see any way to take them back as things are.”
“Point,” Shades conceded. “Still, since there’s nothing we can do about it, then why worry?” Then, seeing a possible way out of this irritating repeat-loop, he offered, “But if we ever do run into them again, I’m behind you all the way about confronting them.”
“Yeah,” Max added, hoping his friend had figured out a way to appease Justin, “if we do meet them again, count me in.”
“But in the meantime, we should think of what we’re going to do right now.” Shades wasn’t about to devote his life to a wild goose chase. Or maybe he was, and it was just that he had his own to attend to already. After all, in such a vast world, without any leads, his own chances of finding both John and Amy were almost as astronomical as Kato’s. But that’s completely different, he told himself, then said, “It pisses me off too, man, but I’d rather get on with my life than dwell on the past.”
I already have enough past to try not to dwell on.
“Fine.” Justin was starting to conclude that he was alone in his quest for vindication.
“Kato is a fool,” Shades remarked. A fool who would probably waste her entire life chasing that particular rainbow. “If I were a betting man, I’d say her chances are about the same as being struck thrice by lightning.”
Abu-Sharrah just shook his head and kept out of it. Neither Max nor Shades were surprised to hear Justin’s response. Sadly, they both expected him to part ways with them at the first opportunity. Shades could tell Max really liked this guy in spite of his attitude, and he wasn’t sure how his friend was going to take it.
After breakfast, Shades stepped out on the deck with Max to practice with their new weapons, figuring it might at least take his mind off his unsettled stomach. The Reflection was a small ship, and there wasn’t a lot of room on the rear deck, just barely enough for their purposes. Shades’ stun-sticks were identical to tonfa, so there was no need to adapt any of his kata to them. One of the coolest abilities of these energy weapons, he quickly discovered, was that he could use arm blocks to deflect Max’s energy blades. Max’s ankle was still stiff, so he kept a mostly defensive stance while Shades practiced his offense.
Later, Justin got into the act, but at first he just watched. He didn’t have to observe long to realize that Shades’ unassuming appearance hid an unexpectedly competent fighter. Don’t take me lightly… Shades’ words echoed in his head, and he was now fairly sure that he would get his ass handed to him in a clean fight with this guy.
Guess I’ll have to get Max to train me some more, he thought glumly.
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