Dashing Devil Omnibus 1: Books 1-3, page 85
“Do you need any help with your things?” Boyd asked.
Daisy looked from the big pink duffle and overnight bag tucked under one of Boyd’s arms to the large yellow case under the other. Then they shifted to a large black duffle at her feet. It was standard issue for The Authority. Boyd recognized that it must be the Changed woman’s things. It sat at her feet and appeared to be over-stuffed.
Since it looked to be about the same size as Tinker’s pink duffle, that meant it was way too big for her to carry. Then again, Daisy burned even brighter than Silvie did under his Black Flame vision, so maybe it wasn’t too much for the slip of a girl.
“It’s pretty heavy, so I wouldn’t say no, but it looks like you’re…”
Having heard everything he needed to hear, Boyd’s tail snaked out to lift the bag by its handle.
“Oh! Okay then, thank you,” she finished a little uncertainly.
“Of course. Laura?” Boyd asked, turning to the nurse.
“Thank you, but my belongings are already loaded up.” She smiled at him.
“No problem,” Boyd assured her with a smile before heading towards the open door.
Ellis had already entered the elevator, so he wouldn’t be any help. Getting on the elevator themselves would only be backtracking. Besides, from the glimpse of the Grav sled Boyd had caught through the open door, he was even more excited to ride this one than he had been the last.
Glancing over his shoulder, he confirmed that all four ladies were following him.
“Seriously, what’s with all this cloak and dagger stuff?” Daisy asked.
“Apparently, we are sneaking out of the city,” Boyd replied.
“But… you couldn’t have used a bigger box?” She seemed fixated on the size of their box, of all things.
“Probably… but it was Silvie’s plan,” Raev quipped.
Boyd chuckled.
“Welcome to the team by the way, both of you. My name is Kitsune, but you should call me Raev. It’s because of my butt.”
Boyd snorted when he heard the sound of her spanking herself behind him.
“Nice, right?”
“Ah… right.” Daisy sounded uncertain and Laura let out an amused laugh. “What does it ‘being a Silvie plan’ mean?”
“That means the plan had two goals—sneaking Boyd out of the city… and into Tinker’s pants,” Raev stated with another velvet chuckle.
“Did you have to put it so crassly?” Tinker sighed.
Her voice filled with incredulity, Daisy asked “Is that seriously the reason?”
“I did warn you about her,” Boyd rumbled, then he shook his head.
“I am not getting in a box with you,” Daisy stated rather firmly.
He heard Laura’s voice say something that he couldn’t quite make out, but Raev’s raucous laughter led him believe it probably wasn’t meant for his ears, anyway.
“I promise never to ask you to,” the kitsune told Daisy.
Boyd sighed again, but then spoke up—likely because he realized that statement required a qualifier. “Unless we have to take cover from a bomb or some other life or death situation,” he added as he stepped through the open doorway.
He wasn’t sure what to do with Silvie. She’d promised to stop pushing him to add more women to their relationship, but then she’d plotted to put him in a small box with two attractive women. He was half surprised she hadn’t figured out a way to get Daisy and Laura into the box, as well.
“I think I’ll take my chances with the bomb, thanks.” Daisy’s musical voice dripped with sarcasm.
Boyd thought the sentiment was a little extreme, but he didn’t need another woman trying to work her way into his life. He wasn’t about to complain if Daisy wanted to keep them all at arm’s length.
Chapter 8
The room beyond the subway station portion of the underground chamber was massive for an underground space—at least eighty feet tall and two hundred feet wide. Poured concrete walls, and a thick, metal beamed ceiling gave it a hangar or bunker like feeling. Bright lights dotted the ceiling, illuminating the Grav-sled that was underground for some reason.
It was an impressive craft, painted a matte, light-drinking black. This craft had to be at least twice the size of the one they’d left behind. The fuselage was about a hundred and twenty feet long and thirty feet wide. It had two sets of slightly stubby-looking wings, one just behind the front, and the other just behind the craft’s midpoint.
The back set of wings had a span of about ninety feet—thirty feet either side of the fuselage—and swept back from the midpoint of the craft. The front set only stretched about forty feet—roughly five feet either side of the fuselage—and swept forward towards the front of the craft. The nose tapered down to a point in a vaguely beak-like manner, giving it an avian appearance. Its cabin was a little boxy, but sleek organic lines negated some of the effect. The back, which Boyd could fly into with his wings fully extended in a pinch, was open with the ramp lowered.
Boyd couldn’t see any exterior weapon hardpoints or senor systems but suspected a suite of each lay just beneath the surface. The craft had the feel of something that could hold its own in a fight. Four landing struts with oddly shaped ends extended from beneath the fuselage.
Each looked something like a bird's talons—though with much thicker digits. There were two struts in the front and another two in the back. They looked like they might grip the ground, to allow for landing on uneven surfaces. The lack of wheels or landing gear indicated it was capable of vertical takeoff, not that such was uncommon.
There didn’t appear to be any other doors to the cast hangar-like space, leaving nowhere else to go. He climbed the ramp and heard the other’s steps on the black grip-improving-coating that covered the metal deck. Inside, the craft was as sleek as the exterior, but not completely black.
The walls were primarily backlit white panels with steel accents, and the metal support structure was a dull blue steel. Comfortable looking ergonomic black seats lined both walls facing the center. Several large metal crates were already strapped down with thick webbing, taking up the majority of the space.
“I don’t recognize the design,” Boyd said, walking towards the back of the craft.
“Uh… Y-yeah,” Tinker agreed, a little awkwardly. “It must be a custom job.”
There was enough space in the webbing for Boyd to tuck the duffel bags securely into place, so he did that on the way to the front of the craft. Tinker’s oddly heavy device found a spot near the ground. That done, he continued forward and grunted as the cockpit came into view.
There was a strip of a windscreen that was probably more for aesthetics than navigation. It wasn’t large enough to provide much in the way of navigational data. Three crew stations faced towards the front but left plenty of open space between them.
Two curved couches for additional passengers spanned the back wall to either side of the cockpit door as you entered. The relatively spacious cockpit was lit with a pale white light that shone off stainless steel or was absorbed by the black leather of the couches or crew chairs. The whole space toed the line between luxury and efficiency.
“This has to be a custom build,” Boyd murmured as he moved towards the primary indicator that the ship had been assembled, or at least modified, specifically for their team.
One of the crew stations was placed right in the center of the space. The chair was much larger than the others, and the backrest was oddly shaped. It had a cut out on either side that would perfectly align with Boyd’s wings when he sat in it. There were two strips of paper taped to the back of the headrest.
Boyd recognized Silvie’s simple but pretty handwriting.
The first read ‘Boyd’s chair’ which he thought was a little redundant, given that it was so obviously designed for him. The second read ‘Daisy and Laura can sit on the couches or in the back.’
After tucking the papers in his pocket, and relaying the message to the two support staff, he walked around the chair. There was even a divot in the seat which allowed his tail to fold in either direction while still providing lumbar support. The chair’s construction looked sturdy and would partially encase his legs and torso. There was an array of buttons and small displays near where his hands would rest on the arms. He slid into the chair and, after blinking in surprise, let out a soft groan. It was the single most comfortable chair he had ever sat in.
“D-do you like it?” Tinker’s quiet voice asked from near his shoulder.
“It’s wonderful.” He settled in a little more soundly. “The single most comfortable thing I have ever sat in.” He repeated his thoughts exactly. “It’s your design?” That was the only reason he could think of that she would ask like that—not that he was exaggerating for the sake of her ego this time.
Lumbar support was hard to come by when you had to deal with a tail, and his wings complicated matters when it came to the rest of his back. While he could sit in most chairs, this one worked around his additional limbs perfectly—while still supporting his spine. The headrest perfectly contoured to his skull, and he could easily see himself leaning back in it and falling asleep. That might have been in part because he’d skipped sleeping the night before, of course.
“Yes,” Tinker confirmed. “The whole ship is my design, actually. Yes… ship, not sled. If they built it to my specifications, it is capable of space travel. Nothing far, of course, but we could get to the moons and back safely. I have no idea how she got it built, though. It’s… it’s pretty resource intensive.”
Boyd turned and arched a brow at her.
Tinker blushed. “It would be a hit to any city’s budget. Again, that’s if it was built to my specifications, which I doubt. They probably cut a bunch of corners to save money and resources. The design was intentionally over-engineered to show off my skills.”
“Well, it looks awesome, Tink—and this chair is perfect. I hope they didn’t cut too much out on your design,” Boyd responded.
“Thank you,” their brilliant engineer sighed. “Although… I always pictured it in pink.”
Boyd withheld a snort. He wouldn’t have gone for black, himself—but anything other than pink, really. Black was a color he tried to distance himself from. The ship looked a lot better in black than it would have in pink, though. That might be a little ostentatious for something this size. At least black had the added value of stealth in night flights and for space.
“I never thought it would actually be built when I was designing it,” the petite woman admitted. “I was torn between thinking Silvie was either humoring me when she asked for my designs, or planned on using them but I would never actually meet you.”
“Silvie isn’t like that.” Boyd frowned, wondering if maybe she was like that when he wasn't around.
She had been up to a lot behind his back. Could she be using and discarding people like that? He didn’t want to think so, and it didn’t feel like his lover. He had been one with her in a very literal way; he’d experienced the world through her mind.
That gave him a level of insight that made him certain his Silvie could do neither of those things. He also acknowledged that her… her Silvie-ness—was that even a word?—might make people feel that way. Someone as intelligent as Tinker might feel like she’d been used.
Boyd discovered that the chair swiveled if he leaned with a little force, so he turned to face the women behind him.
“I’m sorry if she made you feel that way, Tinker,” he admitted. “Would you like me to talk to her about it?”
“Oh, please don’t.” Tinker rapidly shook her head. “I was obviously wrong to feel that way in the first place. She has been nothing but supportive about me joining the team and clearly took my designs seriously.”
She gave him a shy smile. “Silvie let me make your suit, after all—and that’s no small thing. If she takes anything seriously, it’s you. Now, she’s letting you fly in a ship I designed. If anything, I owe her an apology for thinking that way about her.”
Boyd was the one to shake his head this time. “You don’t need to apologize for your thoughts or feelings. It’s not like you’ve been slandering her. If you felt that way, she probably had something to do with it. She can be a little… well, I don’t know what.”
“A little Silvie?” Raev interjected.
“I can’t think of a better way to put it… so, yeah, she can be a little Silvie.”
“No, really.” Tinker shifted from foot to foot. “She was sweet and bubbly. Pretty and perfect and… it was a self-esteem thing on my side, not anything she said or did. It just...” She blew out a sigh. “It seemed too good to be true. Please don’t bring it up.”
He nodded. “I won’t bring it up, then. That’s the ‘little Silvie’ we are talking about, though. We are also going to have to work on your self-esteem. Both of you are incredibly intelligent and beautiful women—truly a double threat. And you have no reason to be so self-conscious,” Boyd assured her.
Tinker ducked her head a little, cheeks turning pink. “Silvie actually said almost the exact same thing after our second meeting.”
“See?” Boyd nodded his agreement. “It must be true. Like you said, Silvie is sweet, bubbly, pretty, and perfect. How could she be wrong? Now, I don’t suppose designing it means you know how to fly this ship?” He frowned. “Does it have a name?”
“No and no,” Tinker responded ruefully, “but flying it should be pretty intuitive—at least that’s how it was designed to be. I can start it up, but I recommend leaving the actual flying to the autopilot. If I had to guess, given our trip in the box and the secrecy behind all this, it probably has a flight path pre-programmed.”
“Well, go ahead and start her up, Big Guy!” Raev strutted past Boyd, brushing him with her tails as she headed towards one of the crew stations.
Boyd swiveled his chair around to follow Tinker as she moved to the second station, which he noted was sized smaller—obviously made for her. The other two crew stations were similar to his, but had more instruments and screens angled to face them.
Tinker slid into her seat right after Raev and pressed a few buttons that had the viewscreens blinking to life. As the other stations came online, a screen raised on an arm from the side of his fancy new chair before swinging over partially in front of Boyd. There was another piece of paper taped to it.
Hi Darling!
When you’re ready to come home to me, simply say “ship, take us home” … and it will. See you soon! Love you!
Forever yours,
Silvie
The signature was in her carefully practiced cursive. The Authority had trained them to write in cursive—for autographs and the like. Silvie used cute little hearts for dots of the two i’s. She’d even put thought into how she’d sign things with her personal name.
Boyd pulled the paper off the screen and carefully folded it before sliding it into his pocket. He had a small keepsake box that he’d stash the letter in later. Turning back around to face the rear of the cockpit, he confirmed that Daisy and Laura had found a seat—sitting together on one of the two couches.
The two couches were set up behind his chair and curved slightly so that every seat faced him at the center. He noted that there were viewscreens hanging from mounts in the ceiling above the couches. Boyd assumed that there was a command that would lower them to a more usable position.
Daisy looked a little nervous and Laura was reading something on a handheld tablet so he judged neither would benefit from the hanging screens.
He turned forward before asking “Is everyone ready? Our course is set on my voice command.”
“Yup,” Raev said, scanning the displays in front of her as they came online.
Boyd felt interest but uncertainty across their Bond. He assumed that meant she didn’t know what she was looking at, but was interested in understanding it all. He would make sure everyone learned the basics of piloting the ship, but if Raev wanted to become the team’s pilot, he had no issues with her taking that role.
“Mhmm. Everything is looking good,” Tinker responded after scanning over the viewscreens in front of her station.
Glancing her way, Boyd saw several dozen scales, dials and graphs were digitally displayed on the screens. They were all green, which Boyd took for a good sign. The numbers, dials, and positions meant little to him.
After a moment, Boyd swiveled around to check on Daisy and Laura.
Laura replied promptly with, “All set.”
Daisy blinked her colorful eyes twice before saying “Oh, I’m just a passenger, here. I didn’t think you were asking me… but, yeah, I’m ready. Going to close my eyes though. I hate flying.”
“Really? You have wings,” Boyd pointed out.
Personally, he loved to fly. Few things were as exhilarating, yet strangely soothing, as feeling the wind under his wings.
“True,” Daisy admitted, “but I fly close to the ground and it's nice and slow. I get the feeling this flight will be neither of those things.” Daisy leaned back into her couch and closed her eyes. “Just tell me when we get there.”
“Come here, dear,” Laura offered, sliding over to remove the space between them. Their trauma specialist draped her arm over Daisy’s tiny shoulders and pulled the delicate looking young woman into her side.
Boyd didn’t know Daisy well, but he was a little surprised when she leaned into the slightly older woman. Laura wore an expression Boyd wasn’t all that familiar with—somewhere between concerned and amused. He recognized it from some of the nameless caretakers in his earliest memories.
“It’ll be okay, Daisy. Didn’t you hear? This ship is Tinker’s design. It’s perfectly safe. The hospital had her look over all of our Grav-sleds and we haven't had a problem with a single one since. They were constantly having minor issues before she made some changes.”
“Oh, logically I know it is perfectly safe.” Daisy nodded, keeping her eyes closed. “It’s not really about the ship. I think it’s an instinctual thing. I don’t like wide open spaces in general, and flying high in the sky seems to make it worse.”
