The Elementalist

25. The Trouble with Captain Neverri-1

The Trouble with Captain NeverriLester met Voi in front of the hangar, his expression resigned. “The captain wants to speak to you.”

Smile faltering, Voi walked quietly with him to the office. Captain Neverri was seated at his desk with his knife out, allowing it to fall and stick into the wood with a loud thunk, only to pull it out and repeat the process—again, and again, and again.

Voi fidgeted in the uncomfortable silence. Lester cleared his throat.

“You may leave, Lester,” the captain said. “Close the door.”

Voi gave the engineer a look. After hesitating for a moment, Lester did as he was told, leaving the two alone.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Voi shrugged self-consciously, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Well, your Manta Ray maneuvers quite nicely.”

“Does she?” Neverri didn’t look up. Thunk. Thunk.

Voi bit her lip.

“Four hundred and fifty-five miles per hour,” he said.

“There was a problem with the plane wobbling and sideslipping at speeds over four fifty. However, it did stop when I decelerated. Still, it’s worth looking into.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that it could possibly go faster.”

“Possibly… yes, if the wobbling and slipping issues were addressed. Also, the landing speed you recommended was too fast. It should probably be lowered another fifty miles per hour or so, though it really ought to be tested more thoroughly.”

Captain Neverri held the knife this time. Silence washed over the room. “What else?”

Voi thought for a moment then pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “Nothing. Everything else was fine.”

Carefully, he set his knife down then folded his hands and leaned forward, causing his stool to squeak.

Voi cringed, prepared for the worst.

“I really wish you and Lester would have followed protocol so we could have a written, detailed report of the MR-6’s performance. However, this is a milestone: no one has managed to fly for as long as you have in that aerocraft and land safely with their full mental faculties intact.” He leaned back, finally making eye contact with the aviatrix. “That will be all for today.”

She stared to the side, unsure whether she should leave. She was turning when he spoke again.

“I don’t… suppose you have any plans for this evening.”

Voi paused, realizing this was supposed to be a question. She looked back. “Plans?”

The captain arched an eyebrow as if his meaning should have been obvious.

“Well,” said Voi, “I do need to see to my lodgings.”

“I was told your driver would be taking care of this.”

“Yes, but I’d like to unpack and get settled. Nothing too important, really.”

Captain Neverri stared at her longer then rose from the desk, smoothing the wrinkles from his pants. “You’ll accompany me to Fifi’s tonight, then.”

She c****d her head, as this was definitely not a question. “I beg your pardon?”

Buttoning his trench coat, he explained matter-of-factly, “Fifi’s. It’s a place over in central Kippoli, not far from here. I think you and I should go together.”

Speechless at first, Voi eventually managed to laugh. “Certainly not!”

“Well, why the hell not? You just said you had nothing else to do!”

“Were it a proper request, then perhaps I could have properly considered your offer. I am not some soldier to be ordered about, Captain Neverri.”

His jaws tensed, and he spoke slowly. “Will you… accompany me… to the city… please?” The last word was forced.

“No,” she said, tilting her nose into the air. “No, I don’t think I will.”

With all the fury of a ram, Captain Neverri got up and stormed towards the door. He flung it open, banging it against the wall. “Good day, Miss Román!”

Voi blinked a few times in wide-eyed bewilderment before flying out the office herself, only to halt upon realizing that Milia and Colonel Snipes were waiting for her. They turned to her together, the colonel relaxing his folded arms.

“I can’t believe you actually managed to fly that thing,” he said. “I mean really fly it.

Voi ignored him, facing Milia instead. “Can we please leave?”

The woman frowned. “Has the captain granted you permission to leave?”

“Quite thoroughly.”

Milia looked back at the office with Voi, where the captain still lurked with a scowl on his face. He slammed the door, shutting himself inside. “You haven’t gotten yourself fired already, have you?” Mia asked.

“Of course not. He just hasn’t any use for a girl who speaks her mind, apparently.”

Milia led Voi away by the elbow. “Alright, well, come along. We’ll have one of the personnel take us to meet Troy at the hotel.”

Anything sounded more appealing to Voi than dealing with ‘Captain’ Neverri.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes into their drive, Voi caught her first close-up glimpse of Kippoli as various species of cacti became prevalent in the landscape. Tumbleweeds rolled across the dirt roads, eventually giving way to pavement the closer they got to their destination.

The desert town was filled with mud brick structures finished in stucco or wood siding. Everything was painted in faded earth tones. Spiraling iron fencing lined the balconies wrapping around the upper levels of buildings, in keeping with the usual artistic Borellian flair. Bolder colors could be found on the doors or window shutters—the opposite of what was usually seen back in Du Mon, Voi noted.

At last, the driver stopped in front of an ochre corner building then helped the ladies out of the truck. Troy had the rest of their belongings waiting for them inside, he told them.

Voi followed Milia through the rustic front door of the inn, observing the sienna earthen tiles on the floor. Weathered structural beams stretched across the ceiling while plaster peeled and cracked from the walls in uneven patches. A dining room off to Voi’s left remained mostly unoccupied, despite it being well into the evening.

Milia cast a somewhat condescending gaze about their surroundings then boldly approached who she believed to be the receptionist. However, the woman was sweeping at that moment. Milia cleared her throat, causing the Borellian to look up.

The receptionist—who turned out to be the owner, Voi learned—was an impatient, fast-talking Borellian with a harsh southern accent. Milia, who was immediately put off by this, leaned back. To smooth things over, Voi stepped in and gave the woman their names.

As if this made all the difference in the world, the owner’s countenance lit up. Milia and Voi were promptly accommodated for, as the Borellian eagerly shared the hours during which meals would be served before handing over the keys to their rooms, directing them to the stairwell where the ladies climbed to the third floor then went their separate ways.

Voi located her room number, 306, then unlocked the door and switched on the nearest lamp, happy to find her luggage on the bed. She turned around when she noticed the heater rattling then sighed, watching as daylight began to recede through the window sheers on the double doors leading to the balcony.

Satisfied enough with the accommodations, Voi walked to the bed then flopped onto it, her head bouncing on plump pillows. Exhausted from the day’s events, she closed her eyes and decided to take a nap—almost forgetting her annoyance with the captain.

* * *

A sudden knock on the door awoke Voi from a much-needed slumber. She rose groggily, wiping the sleep from her eyes, then went to receive the visitor.

Milia stood in the hallway wearing a thick cotton robe and a suspiciously cheerful smile on her face. “I have something for you,” she said, revealing part of a revolver from inside her robe. She pulled it out slowly.

As Voi took the weapon, she realized it was no ordinary g*n—for the grip was crafted from fine ivory and carved with swirling winds. “Where did you get this from?”

Milia came inside, and Voi closed the door. “My father gave it to me.”

“And what does your father do, exactly?”

“He was a bounty hunter. Killed by the Haran. Ambushed, rather.” She said this dispassionately, though Voi wasn’t fooled. His death had clearly left a mark on the woman.

So that’s why you’re so zealous about finding the Haran. Voi thought about Ronny’s explanation about hunters who specialized in capturing adepts. “I see,” she said, brushing past Milia to place the revolver in the top drawer of her dresser. She then unpacked her nightgown and switched on another lamp. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to change into something more comfortable.”

“By all means.”

Voi looked around for a wash basin. There was one on a small table beside the dresser.

“There’s a public bathroom down the hallway, if you want,” Milia offered. “To the right.”

“Alright. I won’t be long.” Voi supposed she could have waited until after Milia said her piece before washing up and changing, though she suspected the conversation that awaited would be heavy. Instead, Voi stepped into the hallway.

It was quiet.

The bathroom was occupied, so she waited with her back against the wall. A few minutes later, a shirtless Borellian man with dark ruffled hair emerged, his sculpted waist wrapped meagerly with a towel. He seemed a little surprised at spotting Voi there, as if coming upon an unexpected delight. He admired her with a grin she severely disliked, rubbing his scruffy chin in contemplation as she shimmied past him against the wall.

“Three oh seven, love,” he called out from behind in Borellian. “Come visit me sometime, ey?”

Great, looks like we’re neighbors. Voi ignored him, hurrying into the bathroom then locking the door. She breathed, pleased to find no offensive smells but instead the spicy scent of potpourri. She made quick work of cleaning her face and privates with a bar of soap and tap water—cold as it was—then changed amidst the all-white amenities before scurrying back down the hallway to her room. While she knew she would regret waiting until morning to properly bathe, she was much too spent by the day’s exhilarating events to do so now. And, besides, Milia was waiting for her.

After pulling her suitcase onto the floor then setting her traveling bag aside, Voi realized that Milia had been leaning against the dresser for some time with her arms folded. Voi sat on the bed. “Is something the matter?”

The blonde turned, looking at a radio on the dresser. It was designed to receive coins, though Milia bypassed this, placing her hand on the object with her eyes closed until there were some clicking sounds. Symphonic music came to life—just loud enough to mask their conversation. Then she took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. “You and I need to have a little chat.”

Voi frowned. “Regarding…”

“Regarding this thing,” she said this distastefully, “that’s developed between you and Neverri. About the effect he seems to be having on you. About his intentions.”

Voi said nothing.

“I want to tell you a little story about myself. Is that alright?”

“I suppose.”

Milia took a breath before she began. “Well, I can clearly recall my first time experiencing what you went through today. However, in my case, I hadn’t understood the need to restrain myself. As a result, my… victim wasn’t so fortunate.”

Voi furrowed her brow; wasn’t she the victim here? “You make it sound like it was your fault.”

Milia smiled then looked down at one of her crossed legs as it bobbed up and down. “I was but a pubescent when it took place. There was a boy I saw at a market back in Mej Rahada and—”

“Wait, you grew up in Darmoil?”

“Yes, Voi,” Milia said wearily. “I’m trying to tell you something important about myself. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

Milia sat there silently for a few seconds then went on. “Anyway, I ended up pouncing on that boy like a lion. He was mortified, to say the least.” She shook her head. “I hadn’t the slightest idea what came over me. All I knew, besides being obviously attracted to him, was that I’d been seized by an overwhelming physical impulse to control an essence which called to me. He had a quiet, unbendable strength which I found irresistible—a quality of metal or even earth types, to be sure. Of course, I didn’t realize at the time this had anything to do with my elemental leanings towards metal; my abilities hadn’t fully manifested yet, you see. And it wasn’t that I wanted him so much as the opportunity to test his strength, to bend it to my will.

“It was all very terrifying, yet thrilling. I didn’t understand how to control my urges yet.”

Voi recalled a similar feeling when she met the captain: an overwhelming urge to drink the breath from his lips and selfishly mingle with his essence. “But you learned to control these impulses eventually so a similar outburst wouldn’t happen again, yes?”

“Oh sure, though it still continued to happen,” said Milia, “just on my terms. I allowed it the second time—and the third and the fourth.” She smiled, one of her feet bouncing. “When I grew older, I went to university and began my training in diplomacy, then…” She looked up. “Well, perhaps there are other things you should know about me first.”