Chapter 70: A Truce of Steel and Silk
The silence inside the Little Express was a fragile skin stretched taut over a core of simmering resentment. The universal translator, mysteriously restored after Erza and Hancock's forced, silent communion, now functioned perfectly, yet it did little to bridge the chasm of mistrust that had opened between them. Himeko, her datapad displaying a topographical map of Healdsburg, was the first to break the quiet, her voice a calm, deliberate counterpoint to the cabin's emotional chaos.
"The plan remains," she stated, her analytical gaze sweeping over the assembled, fractious group. "A two-pronged reconnaissance. Mirajane and I will investigate the industrial park, where Pip's energy signature was last detected. Erza, Miss Hancock, your objective is the electronics scrapyard off the 99, Zylar's most probable location."
Erza gave a curt nod, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The logic was sound, but the prospect of being paired with the Pirate Empress was as appealing as wrestling with a Vulcan. She felt the familiar pull of her sense of duty warring with her profound irritation.
"And you expect us to simply… traipse through a refuse pile?" Hancock drawled, inspecting her nails as if they held more strategic value than Himeko's map. "It sounds dreadfully unhygienic. A task for subordinates, not for an Empress." Her arrogance was a shield, masking the unease that lingered from the vision of her fallen empire.
"Your hands will survive, Hancock," Erza snapped, her patience already worn thin. "Unless you'd prefer to stay here and compose odes to your own reflection while the rest of us deal with the actual threat."
"My reflection provides more inspiration and strategic clarity than your entire brutish guild ever could!" Hancock retorted, her eyes flashing.
"Both of you," Mirajane interjected, her voice gentle but firm, placing herself subtly between their lines of sight. "We agreed. A truce. For the sake of the mission." Her desire to maintain harmony was a palpable force, a quiet strength that momentarily quelled the rising tide of their animosity. She looked from one to the other, her expression one of maternal plea. "Please."
With a final, withering glare at each other, the two warrior queens subsided.
Himeko, satisfied that a fragile cooperation had been restored, turned to the two youngest members of their impromptu crew. "Joey, Lyra, you will remain here. The Little Express is the most secure location. Monitor the comms, and do not, under any circumstances, open the ramp until you hear my voice command."
Joey nodded numbly, his heart a frantic drum. He felt the familiar, crushing weight of inadequacy. They were all going out to face the danger, while he was relegated to babysitting duty. He knew it was for his safety, but it felt like another confirmation of his uselessness.
I'll only get in the way. The words from his note echoed in his mind. Lyra, sensing his distress, quietly squeezed his hand, her silent support a small, warm anchor in his sea of anxiety.
The two teams prepared to depart. Mirajane gave Joey and Lyra an encouraging smile before joining Himeko at the ramp. "We'll be in constant contact. Don't worry."
Erza, without another word to Hancock, strode towards the exit, her focus already on the mission ahead. Her loyalty to her friends—and by extension, the protection of this world that now sheltered one of them—was a powerful motivator, strong enough to temporarily override her personal grievances.
Hancock rose with a sigh of profound theatricality. "Very well. Let us be done with this… rustic excursion. But if my garments are sullied by the filth of this place, someone will be held accountable." She glided after Erza, an empress being led to a peasant's hovel.
The ramp hissed shut, leaving Joey and Lyra alone in the starship's silence. The quiet felt vast and heavy.
"They… they fight a lot," Joey whispered, more to himself than to Lyra.
Lyra looked at the closed ramp, then back at Joey. "Strong," she said, her single word encompassing the power, the pride, and the fury she had just witnessed. She then added softly, her gaze meeting his, "Joo-ee… strong too." She patted her heart. "Here."
Joey stared at her, a familiar lump forming in his throat. He didn't feel strong. He felt like a fraud.
The Healdsburg scrapyard was a mechanical graveyard, a mountain range of rust and decay under the pale light of the setting sun. Skeletal cars were piled high, their empty headlights like vacant eyes. Hills of twisted metal, discarded appliances, and forgotten electronics created a labyrinth of sharp edges and shadowed passages.
"Charming," Hancock declared, her voice laced with venom as she delicately stepped over a patch of oily mud, holding the hem of her simple trousers aloft as if they were priceless silk. "Truly a destination befitting a queen. I feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to contract tetanus."
"Focus, Hancock," Erza's voice was a low growl. She was already scanning their surroundings, her eyes sharp, her senses alert for any sign of Zylar or a potential ambush. Her warrior's instinct was on high alert; this was enemy territory until proven otherwise. "Himeko's scans indicated recent, non-terrestrial energy readings from the center of this junk pile. That's our target."
"And you propose we simply march in? Announcing our presence to whatever desperate, cornered creature is lurking within?" Hancock challenged.
"I propose we proceed with caution, but with purpose," Erza countered. "Unlike you, I don't intend to stand here trading insults with discarded washing machines all day."
They fell into a tense silence, moving deeper into the maze of metal. Erza took the lead, her steps sure and quiet despite her armored boots, which she had Reequipped upon leaving the probe. Hancock followed a few paces behind, her movements fluid and impossibly graceful, yet every line of her body screamed her displeasure.
Suddenly, Erza held up a hand, stopping dead. "Wait."
"Have you spotted another puddle to complain about?" Hancock inquired silkily.
"No," Erza whispered, her gaze fixed on a makeshift shelter constructed from corrugated metal sheets and the door of a van. "Look."
A thin, insulated wire snaked out from the shelter, leading to a rusty car battery that was connected to a bizarre-looking antenna crafted from old television rabbit ears and copper piping. The antenna was pointed towards the sky, humming with a faint, almost imperceptible energy.
"Zylar," Erza breathed. "He's trying to build a transmitter."
"How wonderfully industrious of him," Hancock commented drily.
Erza signaled for silence, gesturing for Hancock to take a flanking position. They began to approach the shelter from two sides, their earlier animosity sublimated into a shared, predatory focus. This was a battlefield now, and on the battlefield, they understood each other perfectly, even without words.
As they crept closer, a voice from within the shelter drifted out, filled with frustration. "Come on, you primitive piece of junk! Modulate the carrier wave! Just give me a stable frequency!"
Erza and Hancock exchanged a look. Their quarry was here. The reconnaissance was about to become a first contact. And in the volatile landscape of Healdsburg, there was no telling whether it would end in an alliance, or in another spectacular, destructive clash.
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on Patreon. with 40 advanced chapters available on Patreon
https://www.patreon.com/c/JoeyLean