Before Beasts, There Was Ice--Book 8

The Silent Scream

The empty cargo hold vibrated with the pounding of Rachmoninov's first concerto. What sounded like sixteen keys of a piano being played at the same time with a full symphony, complete with brassy trumpets, stung his ears as good as any blaring rock music, but with less cultural grating.

In truth, he didn't know why he was trying to block out Ayah's hearing. It wasn't like he was muttering dark secrets to himself or having a special moment with bowel movements. He was just doing his usual workout routine, hung upside from a rail on the ceiling using only the muscles of his good leg, which was screaming at him nearly as loud as the injured one.

Thirty-eight, he thought as he curled his chin to his knees. He crunched his wings at the same time, though they had gotten use to their own weight by now. Thirty-nine. Forty.

Perhaps having Ayah confirm that she had heard the entire argument between Kai and Tyson before Kai threw himself out into the sky had to do with it. Or maybe it was all the naked time he had spent in public over the past month. Or being essentially pushed into a specimen box for a gaggle of scientists to gawk at. Or, hey, having to sleep with four other people in the same bed when he had personal bubble issues and had to deal with being stalked by one of said four people over the past week.

Oh, not to mention Ayah having to remount a pretty much pantless him to redo the stitches he had torn on his bleeding thigh.

Yeah. He needed some privacy.

Eighty-four...Ninety-three...hundred and one...

The first concerto had died down to a grand finale that he felt through the rail in his knees. The next concerto was far more gentle, however. Too gentle and soft for his taste.

So, after letting himself hang for a minute, feeling the burn of his muscles stretch, he dropped, flipped, and floated down to the floor some twenty feet below. The CD player was in the observation box on ground level, and he limped his way to it swiping his brow more out of habit than the need to get sweat out of his eyes. Only heat waves obscured his vision now.

Damn it, what if I melt something in the player? The silicon in circuits had a much lower melting point then metal, after all. That's why they always told you to not leave computers and other devices in the sun or in a hot car.

So he stopped and did a few, one-legged, hoping line touch sprints, hoping the concerto would eventually pick back up into Rachmoninov's usual boisterous trumpeting. When the music built up, just to die away again, he considered dosing himself with the emergency water hose next to the door and changing the CD. Maybe there'd be something blare worthy in the little case some poor schmuck had left behind.

The decision was made for him when Tyson all but kicked the door of the cargo bay open.

"Oy, spy guy, we got a situation you're gonna love." He blinked at the site of Kai's naked, stitched up thigh, and let out a low whistle. "Ayah's gonna be pissed."

Kai let out a sigh and used his wings to heft himself over to the hose, his good leg more or less done with him. Heaven forbid someone knock for once. But hey, what was privacy or courtesy when you were an endangered species mutated from humans by a girl vibrating your spinning top with a spirit beast inside? No, no, that was too much.

The water hissed into steam as it hit his flesh. Good thing he hadn't been wearing his pants. Something he had found after being 'reborn,' in a sense, from the volcano was that it had gotten much easier to heat up, and therefore, burn his clothing. The sort of loin cloth of feathers his body had grown didn't do much, but it hid the necessities, and as long as he kept his tail down, his rear was covered too.

But still...again to the knocking...

Tyson let out a low whistled follow by some cussing which was drowned out by another upheaval of piano keys, trumpets, and strings.

When he pulled himself from the chilly, and oddly refreshing, spray, Tyson had crossed the cargo bay and leaned on the wall beside him, eyebrows raised.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked.

"Only at first. I think it's the quick drop in temperature, not the water," he turned off the flow and shook his head. Within seconds he was nearly dry, feathers and all. "It was so bad when I got thrown into the ocean because I was in that phoenix form, hot enough to melt bullets. That's a really quick drop in temperature."

"Yeah. Could crack steel," said Tyson. When Kai gave him a questioning look, he said, "Gramps taught me a bit about sword forging. Salt water's the worse. It's good to know I won't be killing you if I spill my pop the wrong way."

Kai snorted and went about finding his pants and bandages and turning off the music. The cargo jeans were where he left them on the office chair next to the CD player, which he switched off with more than a little regret. Good-bye sweet privacy.

"So, problem?" asked Kai, picking up his recently modified shirt. He had to step through it to put it on and tie it behind his neck when he was done, but it did the trick. Fully clothed. He had managed to find a crutch too in the ship's tiny medical office, which his spent good leg thanked him for.

"We reached the gas station and it looks like a freaking ant hill, just like the last one."

Kai let out a grunt of frustration. "On that little spit of a port?"

"Must be tuna season or something."

That was a problem. Max and Ray had already concluded they wouldn't have enough gas to make it to the station behind them, meaning they were running on fumes as it was. They had figured Max could always steer them into port, as long as they could find a port to gas up without too many eyes to notice their extra appendages.

Kai shook his hair again, but the dampness had fled to the tips. Only a few drops fell out as he crutched his way to Tyson, who took a step back.

"Dude, not too close, I can still feel you. Damn, you sure you don't need some more time under the hose?"

Kai didn't mention that the pain came back if he stayed under cold water for too long. Spilled pop and all. "We need Max and Ray to head in and get a schedule on the place, see when it's most empty."

"Uh, midnight? Maybe?"

"Boats work with the tides, Tyson, not your sleep schedule."

"Oh, my sleep schedule's all over the place, but I get what you mean. So, we find a time when it's most empty, then what? What do I get to do?"

Kai folded his arms the best he could with crutches under his pits and raised an eyebrow. "What can you do?"

Tyson gaped at him, as though deeply affronted. "I can fly like an eel in the water and lift Max for ten whole seconds."

...."Can you control the wind? Maybe a light breeze?"

"Uh, maybe if I whip my tail around a bit—hey! Don't just walk away from me like I'm some rookie! It pissed me off back then and it pisses me off now!"

Kai ignored him. He just kept on walking. Like always, Tyson didn't show (or was it find?) his true power or strength unless put under pressure. Of course, a lot of people were like that, but the amount of pressure Tyson had to be put under had to be world bending. He was a guy always needing to be challenged in order to reach any of his potential, otherwise his ambition sparked up only when it was fun.

Irritating.

"Come on," Tyson whined. "I can fly faster than you or Ayah, doesn't that mean anything?"

Yes, because a flying dragon was what they needed for a stealth mission.

Ugh. He wanted the Rachmoninov back.