COMPETE: The Atlantis Grail (Book Two) - Preview

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (draft)

Logan trains his compelling hazel-eyed gaze upon the Atlantean boy. "It is, but I am not at liberty to speak to you about it. It is high-level and concerns your Command Pilot only."

Gennio bites his lip. "Can anyone verify this? Your commanding officer?"

"Come on, let's just go," I say. "Consul Denu is waiting. And Logan's just another passenger. I take full responsibility!"

"All right," Gennio says thoughtfully. "But I really don't like it."

"You don't have to like it." Holding on to the Consul's box with one hand, I push Logan forward with the other, and we climb the staircase leading into the shuttle.

* * *

Once on board, Logan eases up on the intensity and becomes his usual charming self. He also takes a seat strategically as far away from me as possible, on the other side of Gennio, while I end up seated in an end seat next to Kem.

Consul Denu sits pompously in the seat right next to Anu's main Pilot chair. The shuttle seats are all taken, except for one, and that last one becomes the repository for the Consul's grand trunk.

"Strap it in." The Consul points one elegant claw-like finger with its long painted nail to the trunk in the end chair, and Gennio rises sadly from his co-pilot seat and pulls the trunk's seat belt together and engages the harness around it. As he does this, Anu sits, rolling his eyes.

"And who is this?" Now Consul Denu has noticed Logan, and is examining him with some suspicion.

Logan gives him a confident smile, followed by a perfectly executed Atlantean salute, ending with his head in a slightly inclined position. "I am Cadet Logan Sangre. It is a privilege to share this shuttle with you."

"Very pretty posture, hmmm." The Consul raises his chin at him, then brings it down in a faintest nod. "It is refreshing to see at least some Imperial Fleet Cadets who follow proper protocol on their second day."

And then Logan is ignored.

Anu and Gennio start up the shuttle, and this time there is no pretense to engage me in the piloting process—they are too tired and stressed to bother.

The hull sings the now familiar melody, we coast off the platform and enter the shuttle bay tunnel. This time, as we blast off, I don't bother watching the view outside the window. Instead all my focused attention is on the two pilot consoles, the constant rapid flipping around of the four holo-grids, key functions, and the process of flying.

* * *

We arrive back on ICS-2, and once more everyone gets to carry Consul Denu's belongings. Even Logan volunteers, and gets handed a medium-sized ornate box.

"Let the pretty Cadet take the Face Colors box. It is the least fragile," the Consul says graciously.

We walk from the shuttle, and past the usual guard station where we are stopped only briefly for scanning. Seeing the splendid figure of Consul Suval Denu, the Atlantean guards come to order, and rain salutes upon him as he sails by.

A minor mishap happens, just as we are about to enter the closest shuttle bay exit corridor leading inside the ship. Kem and Logan walk behind us, bringing up the rear. It is unclear who runs into whom, and who drops what first, but I hear a minor crash behind us. I turn around, and there's Logan's box on the floor, lid off, and what seems to be a hundred small chalks or cosmetics sticks of various delicate colors rolling about all over the floor and under the feet of the guards.

Logan cusses softly and squats down, starting to pick them up one at a time, while Kem is barely holding on to his two boxes of Scents, which are teetering in his grasp.