Page 29 of Carousel

Sure enough, Dezeeves has sunk into his seat, head lolling. I hadn’t noticed.

It strikes me that Drake always seems to be one step ahead of me. I try to tell myself that’s a good thing.

“Oh, he’s terrible when he’s in one of these. Asleep in seconds. I’d love to ink a moustache on him one day.” Cosmer’s tone has a hint of – oddly – something like affection. It’s like he’s talking about someone’s grandfather falling asleep in his oatmeal, not a sky captain sleeping on duty. There are things at work here I don’t understand.

Maybe Drake notices it too. His mouth has become a fine line. But he doesn’t say anything.

We’re travelling quickly now, over more of Hevalla and villages that look identical to ours.

Squinting out of the window, I ask Cosmer, “How can you tell where you are? It all looks the same to me.”

“A combination of things. These are telescopes.” He jabs a thumb at the small brass objects by his head. “And you get to know the shapes and colours of countries and bodies of water when you’ve been flying over them long enough. I go by the sun, moon, and stars, too.”

Drake scoffs under his breath.

But Cosmer hears, and spins around. “What was that for?”

Drake speaks coolly. “The correct answer to that question is, you go by your compass, your maps, and the coordinates you’ve been given. What would your officer have said, if he’d heard you just then?”

Cosmer’s face contorts. “Are you high or something? I am an officer.”

“Is that so? Hevalla’s army really is getting desperate.”

Cosmer faces the window again. His words, which are said cheerily, sound forced. “Now I get it. You were a ship’s comedian! That’s great. We could all do with some more laughs.”

Drake sits straighter, his fists in his lap.

I decide I need to cut in before anything else is said.

“Okay. Let’s all just calm down for a second.”

My choice of words irks me. I sound like their mother.

But what choice do I have? I have to put a stop to whatever this is.

My words work. For a moment, there’s only silence.

But it’s taut. The machine has been hot this whole time, but it’s like we’re now being steamed. My clothes are clinging damply to me. The back of my neck is tingling. And I’m very aware of the smell in the cramped space, which is an oppressive combination of leather, metal and men’s sweat.

Drake leans forwards again, looking at the control table.

“You do not need so much thrust,” he says flatly. “You will fry your lasers.”

Cosmer whirls around again. His face is vaguely starting to match the colour of his hair.

“You know what?” he spits. “Why don’t you just have my seat? You clearly know all there is to know about ships.” He pulls a lever forcefully, only half-looking at it. “And hey, why not just eject the rest of us idiots while you’re at it. You’d be doing us a favour at this point.”

I stare at Drake. There’s a fire waiting to light in his eyes, like a spark has been let loose, as he says, “I won’t need to eject anyone if you keep ragging your lasers. You will kill us all just fine.”

Within the space of two seconds, Cosmer completely lets go of the ship’s wheel, and I watch in horror – shriek – my body on a precipice, as he grabs Drake by the collar.

“Who in Cosmos do you think you are?” he yells.

I’m yelling, too. “Cosmer! The wheel⁠—”

But he’s not listening, and his voice drowns out mine.

“Are you not aware of the situation you’re in? You’re a prisoner of war. Nothing. No one. Rhavnan scum.”