Gaia's Brood

Chapter 53

The honorable Judge Longfrie, turns to Jack McGraw, who is looking resplendent and handsome in his best Cadet uniform. "On the basis of your most thorough report, Mr McGraw, concerning the circumstances of Miss Swift's notoriety. I am compelled to drop all international charges and issue warrants for the real culprits. The only charge remaining is the domestic charge of piloting an airship without an air-worthiness certificate."

The judge turns to me, standing in the witness box. "Miss Nina Dorothy Swift."

Yes, Dorothy is my middle name. I bet my friends are snickering behind their hands at the sound of it.

"You are charged with piloting an airship from the docks of New Frisco without an air-worthiness certificate. How do you plead?"

I straightened myself in my Pilot's Guild uniform, newly pressed for the occasion.

"Not guilty, my Lord." I lie.

It's two months since our sensational return. The scars on my arm are healing nicely, but the severed tendons will never repair. Jack's father, Mayor of New Frisco, arranged for a famous Coggler to construct an exoskeleton round my left hand. Tiny brass pistons and levers perform the same function as the missing ligaments, giving me almost full control of my hand again. Jack thinks it makes me look rakish; Izzy says I'm now a fully—fledged pirate.

The court room is packed with spectators, to see the notorious Nina Swift. No doubt Fernando is cringing at the naked publicity of it all.

The judge turns back to Jack. "On what basis does the state of New Frisco bring these charges?"

Jack retrieves a notebook from his pocket, he loves playing the part. "Unfortunately, M'lord, the airship in question, the Shonti Bloom, has disappeared; presumed destroyed, stolen by a Microtough agent. Without any evidence, there is no way to determine whether the charges are true or not. I must, reluctantly," he gives me a wink, "move that the charges be dropped."

The Judge nods once. "Agreed. Case dismissed. Miss Nina Dorothy Swift,-"

Does he have to keep repeating my full name?

"- you are free to go."

Outside the courtroom I give Jack the hug and kiss he deserves.

He whispers in my ear, "Well done, Dorothy." And earns himself a punch on the bicep for his cheekiness.

"Yuck." Scud still doesn't approve of deliberate bodily contact, but he is warming to the idea of Jack and I as an item—slightly.

Izzy is there too. "Well done Nina. Well done Jack."

Fernando slips an arm around Izzy's waist. I guess they have made up again. Without the immediacy of death and the adrenaline of adventure their relationship seems somewhat rocky. "We're off to the Square Balloon. Anyone else care to join us?"

"Excellent idea." I link arms with all my friends and guide them towards the Square Balloon. Time to celebrate my freedom. I no longer head the wanted lists of law enforcement agencies across the globe. Except for my enemies, I could set foot on any platform, anywhere in the world, with impunity.

As we stroll off across the square, I think I catch a glimpse of Trent in the shadows, but when I look again there is nothing—just my imagination.

Even though I am now a free woman, my future is now far more dangerous than I've made out to my friends. Sometime it keeps me awake at night: did my mother survive the Microtough assault? Are the Daughters of Gaia still out there? Will the assassins want revenge for Borker's death? I am determined to spend the next three years applying myself diligently to my piloting master's degree. There is no way I am leaving New Frisco territory anytime soon.

When faced with an uncertain future, defeat anxiety with feverish activity—in this case, a party.

Jack separates me from the group. "You lot go on in, I want to show Nina something."

With an arm around my shoulder, he guides me down the street towards a jewelers. Oh, no, he can't be serious. I'm not ready to have my freedom curtailed yet.

Jack stops before we reach the Jewelers. "Bet you thought I was going to show you a ring?"

"Didn't even cross my mind." How easy it is for me to lie to Jack.

"I just wanted some privacy so I can give you a proper kiss, without Scud making disapproving sounds." Jack is such a romantic.

I reach up with my arms around his neck. Suddenly, something crashes into me with such force it knocks us both into the mouth of an alley and we sprawl on the ground.

"Nina, thank goodness I found you." Trent. It really is Trent, but no Trent I've ever seen. He is dressed all posh: he's wearing a gold embroidered waistcoat, under a long black frock—coat, and a smart top hat—which is now in the gutter.

I scramble to my knees, then realize I'm covered in blood. In a panic, I check myself and then Jack, but it is Trent who is injured. Gouts of blood are pumping from a wound in Trent's stomach.

Quickly, because I can see the seriousness of the wound, I tear away a wide strip from the tail of my shirt and press it against the wound. "Trent, you are hurt. Hold this here, it will help staunch the blood. Jack, we have to get Trent to a doctor."

With an effort, Trent raises himself on one elbow. "Take this." He thrusts a small package, wrapped in brown paper, into my tunic. "Take it to a Reaver called Papa Doyle, he'll know what to do with it."

Jack has regained his feet and pulled his pistol. "Where is Nina's airship, you rogue?"

Trust Jack to go into lawman mode. "Jack, Trent is wounded. We have to help him."

Trent ignores both of us. "Papa Doyle—got that?"

I nod.

"Repeat it to me!" Trent orders.

"Take the package to Papa Doyle. But not before we've got you to a doctor." I try to raise Trent to his feet.

"Stan The Man will help you."

I nearly drop Trent in surprise. "Not Stan Wellingham-"

"-It's very important, Nina. Don't let her do it again." I don't need to ask who he's referring to—I know he means my mother. Is she still alive?

Bang.

A shot rings out from the entrance of the alley. Trent jerks once, then flops across my lap, he looks up in surprise, blood gushes from his mouth. He tries to say something, but has no words left. "Papa Doyle," he mouths. "Don't let her..." The spark leaves his eyes, his mouth falls open, his body slackens, and he droops limply in my arms. He's dead.

"No Trent. No," I sob. In panic, I search for help. "Jack, do something."

But Jack is staring unwaveringly down the barrel of his gun, at the mouth of the alley.

Just inside the alleyway stands a booted woman in a green velvet dress. Her face is hidden behind a dark net veil, hanging from an elegant top hat—her dress exactly matches the wide green ribbon round brim of the hat. She holds a parasol over her shoulder, conveniently shielding the scene in the alley from public gaze.

The woman points a small sidearm straight at my head.

                                                              

                                                                 The End