D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

Courtney decided she didn’t like ocean voyages.

There was a knock on the door, followed quickly by the screech of the lock opening. Sixth Officer Hantin poked his head in.

“Time for a little supper, miss,” he said warmly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Now, now,” the ship’s officer cajoled. “Don’t want you to become a patient in this hospital ward, do we?”

He was followed quickly by a steward wearing a white coat, pushing a rolling table that was draped with a white tablecloth. Silver domes covered plates of food that Courtney had no intention of eating. She rolled over in her bunk.

The steward cleared his throat and said, “Come now, miss. Me thinks you’re gonna be liking this, I do!”

Courtney had heard that strange accent before. She looked up in time to see the steward stand straight up, wink at her, then spin and swing a punch at Sixth Officer Hantin. He landed a haymaker that was so unexpected, it sent Hantin sprawling back against the bulkhead. Hantin tried to push off, but the steward nailed him with another punch that straightened him up. He hung there for a second, then crashed down onto the rolling table, unconscious, sending food and plates flying everywhere.

“Now I know I’m going to be sacked from the hotel,” Dodger said as he shook his aching hand.

Courtney stared at the little guy with her mouth open in shock.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, insulted. “I was a Golden Gloves champ three years running.”

Courtney jumped off the bunk and threw her arms around him. “I can’t believe you found me!”

“I told you, this is nothing more than a floating hotel.” He pushed away from Courtney and went to work. First he cleaned up the overturned cart. “Word of a stowaway travels fast. I know how to listen. Alls I did was pinch this outfit from the linens, grab a tray like I owned the place, and brought it right here. Easy-peasy.”

“Yeah, right. You are awesome.”

“Agreed. Now, we’ve got to be crafty. Once they figure out you’re gone they’ll be looking for a scruffy tomboy, not a beautiful young society lady.”

“Know any?”

Dodger reached under the cart and pulled out a sparkling white evening gown and matching shoes. “I do now,” he said with a smile.

Courtney’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the dress. “Where did you get this?”

“Went shopping on Regent Street,” Dodger answered casually. “You stole it.”

“Nah.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “This was charged to a Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Galvao, suite twelve-twelve, cabin class. They won’t see their bill until we dock. That should be interesting.”

Courtney laughed, jumped behind the bunks, and started pulling off her clothes. As she changed, Dodger went through Hantin’s pockets. He pulled out keys, a pair of handcuffs, and finally his pistol. He dragged Hantin to one of the bunks and hoisted him in. He handcuffed him to the rail, and pulled the blanket up to cover his face.

“Anybody peeks in, this is you, sleeping like a baby.”

“What happens when he wakes up?”

“He could scream his head off and nobody’ll hear. We’re fine until somebody comes to relieve him.”

Courtney stepped from behind the bunk. The dress fit perfectly. It was slim and silky, with short sleeves that showed off her muscular arms. Dodger whistled.

“Wowee. I knew there was a girl hiding in there somewhere.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Courtney said with a scowl, though she liked the compliment. “What about you? I don’t think the stewards hang out with the passengers.”

“Right you are,” Dodger exclaimed.

He unbuttoned his white steward jacket and pulled it off to reveal he was wearing a tuxedo. It was perfect, right down to the shiny black shoes and slick tie. Dodger brushed his hair back and held his hands out for Courtney to appreciate him. “Not too shabby, huh?”

“Courtesy of the Galvaos?”

“They’re a very generous pair,” Dodger replied. “Let’s get out of here. I found out what suite Mark is in and-” “He was here, Dodger.” Dodger froze. “Uh… what?”

“He came here, to this cell. With Newa Winter. I know her, Dodger. She’s a Traveler. And she’s a traitor. She helped Saint Dane win Quillan. It was Newa Winter that got to Mark on Second Earth and told him that if he changed history he could save his parents from dying in that plane crash.”

Dodger blinked and scowled, taking a second to let the wave of information sink in.

“Wow,” he gasped. “It was simple as that? She flat-out lied and he bought it?”

“Not so simple. Mark’s parents were here too. They’re alive.” “But-“

“Yeah, I know,” Courtney interrupted. “I don’t get it either. Nevva delivered. It’s hard to blame Mark for doing what he did.”

“Even if it meant giving Saint Dane an army to conquer Halla?”

“I don’t think she mentioned that part,” Courtney answered sarcastically. “Mark didn’t know Andy Mitchell is Saint Dane. I told him but he didn’t believe me.”

Dodger scratched his head and whistled in wonder. “So Mark is still a good guy.”

“Yes, but we’re going to have a hard time convincing him to destroy Forge.”

Dodger frowned. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

“I can do it,” Courtney said with certainty. “Mark is my friend. My best friend. If we can get him alone, away from the others, I’ll convince him.”

She went for the door. Dodger followed right behind. He took one last look to make sure everything seemed in order, then closed the heavy door and used Hantin’s key to lock it. “Snug as a bug,” he declared.

The two walked quickly forward down a long passageway. Courtney did her best to tie her hair up, trying to make it look like it was actually an intentional hairdo.

“Where’s his cabin?” Courtney asked.

“Not cabin, suite. Those people from England spent a pretty penny to bring him over. They must know how valuable his gizmo is.”

“Okay, where’s his suite?” Courtney asked, getting impatient.

“Main Deck forward. But he’s not there.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because there was a dinner reservation for five, the Dimond party, in the cabin-class dining room,” Dodger said proudly.

“You’re amazing.” “Yes, yes I am.”

The two moved quickly through the ship, up from the depths to the Promenade Deck and the same elegant restaurant that Courtney had sprinted through earlier. They forced themselves to calm down and walk slowly, pretending to belong. They got a few second glances, but Courtney was sure it was as much because her hair was a mess as anything. The two strolled casually, arm in arm, through the wide-open doors of the dining room.

Music from the big band filled the elegant room, which was now busy with diners. Inside the double doors was a sitting area with a huge fireplace and comfy chairs for passengers to sit in while waiting for their tables. To the right was a velvet rope leading up to a podium where a stiff-looking host with a slim mustache greeted passengers and showed them to their seats. Courtney and Dodger made a point to avoid that guy. They strolled past him into the sitting area. From there they had a view into the large dining room. Peering through a potted palm plant, Courtney and Dodger scanned for their quarry.

“There,” Courtney said, pointing.

Halfway across the room, toward the stage, was a table for five with Mark, Andy, Nevva, and the Dimonds. Nevva and Andy were laughing and having a good old time. Mark and the Dimonds seemed more reserved. Mark twiddled his spoon, not interested in the food in front of him.

“May I help you two?” came a stern voice from behind.