Second Exit

by London Lampy

Chapter 4

I run into the first class bar a few steps behind Vin and the steward, still buttoning up my shirt, my feet bare. Vin is muttering a string of swear words to himself, I can't imagine Sampson getting stabbed on our first night away is going to do him any favours with the company.

I'm expecting a bloodied corpse from the way the steward is acting, but inside we find Sampson looking very much alive. He's sitting in a large leather armchair dressed in his evening suit minus his jacket, his left shirtsleeve rolled up and a bandage stained with a spot of bright red blood about the size of a shilling is wrapped around his upper arm. A uniformed crew member is fussing over him, a man with a stethoscope slung around his neck who I take to be the ship's doctor is repacking his bag and a sandy haired barman is handing him a large glass of brandy.

"Ah, Govinder," Sampson waves the man in uniform away. "Would you believe it, that damn blue bastard stuck a corkscrew in me, right here." He indicates the bandage, as if we couldn't have worked that out. "Bloody Surosians, too touchy by half. Anyone would think they had won the war the way they act."

"Was it the waiter who did it?" Vin asks him. His tone of voice is calm, but I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

"Yes, that's the culprit," Sampson nods, pulling at the edge of the bandage and squinting underneath. "This chap here," he points to the crew member, who's still hovering beside the armchair. "He saw it all, he can give you the details, he's the bursar."

"Purser," the uniformed man corrects as Vin goes over and introduces himself.

I'm not sure I'm really needed here, but I'm also kind of curious to see what's going to happen, so I go over to the bar and jump onto one of the stools to watch. As I sit down the barman returns and lets himself behind the bar. "He your chief?" he asks me, indicating Sampson.

"Sort of," I say quietly, not wanting to be overheard discussing him.

"Have this," he glances around to check that no one is watching us then pours me a glass of brandy from the bottle that's still out. "You also have my sympathies."

I'm not really keen on the brandy but I take a small sip. "What happened?" I ask him.

"Honestly? It was six of one and half a dozen of the other." He looks round again, then helps himself to a brandy. "Your boss over there kept going on at Demas, that's the bloke who stuck the corkscrew in him, about the war, how badly organised the Surosian troops were, and so on, until the moody bugger snapped and went for him. Good job all he had on him was the corkscrew." I nod in agreement. "Thing is, you have to accept all kinds of shit in this job, if a passenger wants to stand there and call your mother a whore to your face you just have to smile and take it. See the pay's crap but you make up for it in tips, and if someone really pisses you off, you can always add a little extra to their order, if you know what I mean." He mimes spitting into his glass, and I vow to never get on the wrong side of a waiter or barman. "Well as you now know, Demas is Surosian, you ever met a Surosian?"

"Yes, I used to know one very well," I reply, trying to ignore the ache in my chest.

"So you'll know what they're like. We've had quite a few Surosian lads on here over the years, none of them ever lasts long, but Demas was the first one who ever attacked a passenger, stupid bugger. They got him locked up in the brig now, most likely they'll turn him over to the cops once we get back to Parnell, if that's what your man wants, all because he couldn't ignore a bit of bullshit from an idiot." He shakes his head sadly then takes a swig of brandy.

I look over at Sampson who's now deep in conversation with Vin; I can't imagine him not wanting to press charges. Vin turns round and beckons me over so I try to finish my drink in one gulp and nearly end up spitting it all over myself. I manage to swallow it down somehow, it makes my throat burn and my eyes water though.

"We're going to be staying in Sir's suite tonight, make sure no one else tries to attack him." Vin 's back is to Sampson and the expression on his face tells me how stupid he thinks this is, but his voice betrays no emotion.

"Too bloody right," Sampson booms out from the armchair. "Can't trust anyone, could be assassins lurking all over the place." He looks across the room, spots the barman who is now wiping down the counter top and fixes him with a glare. The barman ignores him.

"Should I go and get Vio?" I ask.

"No, no point in waking her, I think that the pair of us should be enough to see off any would be assassins," Vin rolls his eyes at me, and I have to try very hard not to smile. Vio won't like not being included one bit, but he's right, dragging her into this silliness would be pointless.

When we came here we were moving too fast for me to notice anything, but as we make our way through first class to Sampson's suite I look around. It's hard to believe that I'm still in the same ship as the one my cabin is in, everything is gold or marble or fancy, or all three at once.

"I say," Sampson utters as we cross a marble and gold inlaid floor. "You haven't got any shoes on."

"Um...no. I didn't have time to put them on," I reply.

"Ah, rushing to the rescue and all that, but you know, I think you're the only echoback I've seen wear shoes, do you need to wear them?"

"In the city I do."

"Of course, there is some truly noisome rubbish discarded on our fair city's streets. Last week I saw a dead dog, just lying in a gutter, you wouldn't want to be putting a naked foot in that."

"No." I don't know what "noisome" means, does it mean noisy? I can't imagine that rubbish is ever noisy.

We arrive at the suite and Sampson lets us into a large drawing room with three doors leading off it, you could loose my cabin at least twice over in here. He bids us goodnight and disappears off into what I assume is his bedroom. The drawing room contains a lot of ornate furniture including several carved gold leafed blue upholstered chairs and a small couch to match, none of them looks very comfortable but the couch looks to be the best so I go and sit on that. Meanwhile Vin starts looking through a pile of papers left out on a shiny dark wood writing desk.

"What does noisome mean?" I ask him.

"Smelly...for the love of...this stuff is confidential." He holds up a piece of paper and shakes his head in disgust. "It's leaving stuff like this lying around he should be worrying about, not assassins."

"Does he really think that waiter was trying to assassinate him?" I watch as Vin tidies away the paper work.

"Yes," he sighs. "I saw you talking to the barman, did he tell you what actually happened? My guess is he pissed off the man so badly he just snapped and went for him."

"That's pretty much it."

"Huh. Don't let Sampson near Surosians, we'll have to remember that."

"He's going to have the waiter prosecuted isn't he?" I stretch my legs out in front of me and yawn, it's been a long day and it's now well past midnight.

"Yes," Vin comes and sits beside me.

"That doesn't seem very fair, he didn't really do any damage. Do you think if he apologised and explained to Sampson that he's not an assassin and that he just lost his temper he'd let him off?"

"Maybe," Vin shrugs and yawns. "He's got some funny ideas about gentleman's codes and all that crap, and to be honest he seems more bothered about the hole in his jacket than anything else. Why do you care?"

"Just seems unfair, it was as much Sampson's fault as his." Would I care if the waiter wasn't Surosian?

Vin moves closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. "We got interrupted," he says, his lips against my ear.

"We can't," I protest. "Not with Sampson in the next room, he could come in at any time."

"Doesn't that make it all the more exciting?" he licks my earlobe.

"No, it would be horribly embarrassing if he caught us, and I'm not sure we should even if he wasn't around."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with the idea back in our cabin," he gently bites my jaw and I'm starting to loose my train of thought.

"But..." I try to pull my thoughts into order. "...Toni."

He stops what he's doing, sits back and looks at me. "She's not here."

"But...I like her," I try to explain.

"So do I, I married her."

"She'd be really upset if she knew." This would be a whole lot easier if he wasn't looking at me with those green eyes.

"I'm not about to tell her, are you?" he leans in and kisses me on the mouth, and I give in, it doesn't take much.

A muffled thud that sounds like a door closing comes from the other room and makes me pull away. "I really can't with him in next door."

"You're going to make me spend the night in here with you and I have to keep my hands off you?"

"Yes. Come on, do you really want your boss walking in here and catching us doing it?"

He laughs. "You know, it would almost be worth it to see the expression on his face."

I start to laugh as well. "What do you think he'd do?"

"The gods only know, but I seriously hope he wouldn't want to join us."

"Eww."

"Might get you a promotion," he says through giggles.

"Eww, no, I'd rather go back to working at the power station chasing pigeons off the roof beams."

Neither of us take the job of guarding Sampson from would be waiter assassins very seriously . We both attempt to get some sleep, me on the small couch and Vin on two chairs pushed together, we do leave the light on though, just in case. I wake up after a couple of hours with a cramp in my back and a full bladder. I roll off the couch, stretch out and go to look for the bathroom. Ignoring the door to Sampson's room I open the one to the left of it, it's a cupboard full of clean towels and bed linen so I try the door on the right, which turns out to be a small but very well stocked bar, neither of them have a toilet in them. As I shut the bar door Vin stirs and looks up at me.

"What the hell are you doing?" he mutters sleepily.

"I need to pee."

"It's off the bedroom," he points to the door.

"I can't go in there, Sampson's in there."

"I don't think you've got much choice, unless you want to try and find your way back to our cabin."

I stand by the door and listen, I can hear snoring coming from inside.

"It would be more of a problem for me than for you," Vin says. "At least you can see in the dark, you're not going to trip over something and have him thinking we've let a waiter with murderous intent into his bedroom."

"But if he does wake up, what do I say?" I put my hand on the handle.

"You've got a proposition to put to him regarding a promotion," he starts laughing and it takes me a moment to catch up.

"Eww...again. I doubt that would work anyway, I don't think he's into men."

"I think you're right, but for fuck's sake hurry up if you're going in there, I want to go back to sleep."

I slowly open the door, sticking my head round before entering fully. The room is dominated by a large four poster bed, and it briefly crosses my mind how much fun you can have with a bed like that, then I remember who's in it. He's still snoring so I creep inside and look around, fortunately there is only one door that could lead to a bathroom. A thick rug on the floor muffles my footsteps and he doesn't seem at all aware of my presence. The bathroom door squeaks as I open it but the snoring never changes rhythm so I tiptoe inside, shutting it as quietly as I can. The bathroom matches the rest of the suite, it has a marble sink, a bath big enough for two people that rests on clawed feet and even the toilet is decorated to look like marble. Not that I care what it looks like, I just use it with relief, hoping he can't hear the splashing, although once I've finished I'm left with a dilemma, do I flush or not? My toilet at home makes a loud rattling noise for quite some time after it's been flushed, I complained to Mr Costa about it once but he said that as long as it was still working he wasn't about to pay for a plumber to come out and look at it. In the end I decide not to flush and I quickly rinse my hands then make my way out of the bedroom.

"Find it?" Vin asks me sleepily from the chairs.

"Yes." I nod and lie back down on the couch, trying, and failing, to get comfortable.

"You should have come and got me." Vio complains over bacon and eggs in the cafeteria, put out that she missed all the drama of last night.

"Then there would have been three of us stuck in Sampson's suite trying to sleep. Fancy furniture is not comfortable." I rub my shoulders.

"So now one of us has to stay with him at all times?" she asks, spearing a last bit of bacon.

"Yep, at least while we're on the ship, he thinks the waiting staff are all out to kill him. Vin wants you to take over from him after breakfast."

"I can't fucking wait," she sighs. "What are you going to be doing with yourself?"

"Having a shower then taking a nap," the first part is true.

She chews her bacon and looks at me thoughtfully. "Just out of interest, what the fuck would you do if you were guarding Sampson and someone went for him? I mean, no offence monkey boy, but when it comes to a fight your talent is running away really fast."

"Sampson wants us to carry his gun now, I suppose I'd use that."

"You've never shot anyone though have you, do you think you could?" she looks kind of concerned.

"I know how to shoot." I'm quite good actually, my instructor said my accuracy was excellent for a beginner, but maybe that was because he wanted to get into my trousers, which he did.

"Yeah, but there's a shitload of difference between shooting at a target and shooting at a person, that's what I'm getting at."

"I suppose I would if I had to." I remember Vin killing Jasper, could I do that? I'm not sure. "Have you ever shot anyone?" I ask her.

"Yes, and trust me, even if the fucker is about to blow your brains out it's still not an easy thing to do, or live with having done."

I come out of the bathroom after my shower with a towel wrapped around me to find Vin sitting on his bed looking through some papers. He's still wearing the shirt and trousers from the borrowed dinner jacket.

"Hello," he grins, looking me up and down. "Now that's a better sight than Sampson eating kippers."

"How is he after last night?" I ask, sorting my clothes out.

"Fine, he's grumbling about his arm being sore, but grumbling much more about his shirt and jacket needing to be mended. He also intends to demand a refund on the cost of his passage."

"Do you think he'll get it?"

"Of course he will, the shipping company won't want the bad press of the head of Municipal Works being stabbed by one of their staff. Thing is our company is paying for all of our travel costs, but the refund will go straight into his wallet." I unwrap the towel and start drying my hair with it. "Oh gods, you are fucking gorgeous." I don't reply, just smile at him, I'm not about to turn down a compliment.

"Doesn't he have enough money already?"

"More than enough, but that's the kind of behaviour that gets you rich and keeps you rich. Why are you getting dressed? Vio's minding Sampson, I need a shower, but after we could..." he finishes his sentence with a suggestive grin.

"I need some fresh air," I lie "I want to take a walk around the deck."

"Are you going to come back after that?"

"Hmm," I mumble without too much commitment, tucking in my shirt and doing up my belt.

"Good. By the way, you didn't flush Sampson's toilet last nigh, he thinks he's been sleepwalking, or sleep peeing maybe."

"I didn't forget, I thought the noise might wake him." I fasten my boots and stand up. "I'm off, see you later."

"Don't be too long." He gives me that sexy crooked grin of his and for a second I'm tempted to stay and play with him, but we can do that later, I've got something else I want to do now.

From what I know about ships I assume that the brig has to be somewhere under the waterline, they wouldn't waste a porthole on a gaol. There's a ship's ladder at the end of the corridor and next to it is a sign saying "No Passengers Beyond This Point", so I descend, guessing I'm heading in the right sort of direction. At the bottom is another corridor, this one floored in lino with roughly painted walls, from the row of doors with numbers stencilled on them this looks likely to be the crew quarters. When I get to the end of the row of cabins I have the choice of either turning left or descending another ladder, I'm trying to decide which way to go when a man dressed in uniform comes out of one of the doors, he spots me and frowns. "Passengers aren't allowed down here, can I help you?"

"Yes." I try to find as much authority as I can, it's not much. "I work for Sampson, the man who was attacked by the waiter Demas last night. I've been sent down here to speak to him."

The man nods but looks doubtful. "About what?"

"Um...about what he did...and if he has any connection with Clearwater." That doesn't sound very convincing.

"Alright, the brig is this way, follow me." I can't believe that worked.

I follow him in silence, he stops to pick up a bunch of keys from some kind of office then leads me to a door that looks like all the others except it has the word "BRIG" stencilled on it. "I'll wait out here, don't be too long, I've got things to be getting on with," he says as he unlocks it.

"I won't," I reply, not having any idea how long I'm going to be.

It's not that I expected Demas to be Topher, or even look particularly like him, but I'm still disappointed that he isn't, and it's only really the man's colouring that's the same. He's sitting down but it's clear he's quite tall and he looks to be fairly muscular too. His hair is midnight black but it's closely cropped to his head, not worn in a thick mop that comes down to his eyes, his skin is the very dark shade that the Surosian's like to think of as being blue, but isn't, and I would put him in his early twenties.

He looks up at me in surprise. "Who the hell are you?" he asks, and for a moment I can't answer, I'd almost forgotten that strange, slurring accent.

"I'm...I work for the man you stabbed in the arm," I manage, trying to get my emotions under control.

"Huh," he snorts.

I look around the room, it's not all that different from my cabin, a little smaller maybe and the only furniture it contains are a pair of beds, but it does have a door that I assume leads to a bathroom. The brig on The Firebrat was a dark smelly hole with leg irons bolted to the floor, but then I don't suppose the crew on a passenger ship get the cat if they disobey orders, they probably just get the sack.

I sit down on the bed opposite him and he glares at me. "What do you want?" he asks, he doesn't sound very friendly.

I take a deep breath. "Look, I know Sampson is a a pain in the ass, and I can see how he annoyed you enough to make you want to stab him, but I think perhaps if you were to talk to him and explain why you did it, and apologise, he might agree not to press charges."

"What the fuck? Apologise? Do you know what he said?"

"Not exactly, but I assume it was insulting."

"I lost my father, my brother and my uncle in the war, and that shit tells me we deserved to loose, that our soldiers deserved to die," he sounds quite worked. "Because as a nation we are disorganised and morally and intellectually inferior to Twin Islander." Yes, very insulting.

"I'm not surprised you lost your temper, but do you really want to be arrested and possibly go to prison?" I try to sound calming.

"I do, if it is for the honour of my nation," he peers at me. "Why do you work for that shit? You are not a Twin Islander."

"I sort of am a Twin Islander, it's complicated." I really don't want to get into my life story now. "Please, just apologise, you don't have to mean it."

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because someone I care about very much is Surosian." Is all I can think of to say.

"Then you will know that we always stand our ground, that the word surrender is not in our vocabulary." He looks at me as if daring me to argue with him, I'm not about to, surrender is in my vocabulary.

"There's no point in me trying to persuade you to change your mind is there?"

"No, none at all," he declares. I give up, how the hell can idiotic stubbornness be a national trait?