Bram Möller's Arc

Chapter 52 of 63

Cora had the north line half free when Bram stopped her. Her hands were red and shaking on the knot. Omondi stood at the mast with the mug still in his hand, blinking at the rope as if he had forgotten what it was for. Vex leaned in the harbor office doorway, arms crossed, watching them the way she watched a bad seam. "Stop," Bram said. "Tie it off." Cora looked up. "We are cleared. The stamp is dry." "We are cleared to fly. We are not fit to fly." He pointed at her hands. "You have not slept. Omondi is holding a cold mug. I signed a witness log an hour ago and cannot remember what I wrote." Omondi looked at the mug. He set it down on the crate. "He is right. I would miss the vent cue." Cora tied the line off. She did not argue. Vex pushed off the doorframe. "The bag will not fly itself, and Kesh is two harbors ahead. Every hour you sit here he stretches the lead." "He stretches it whether we launch tired or rested," Bram said. "Tired we wreck the bag on the first pass. Then he wins the circuit and we lose the aircraft." He opened his journal on the crate. The wind notes from dusk still held. North front building, but slow. He turned to the page where he had drawn the coastal lane out of this harbor. A blind turn at the second headland. A crosswind at the third. He tried to picture the second headland and saw only the harbormaster's stamp coming down twice. "Four hours," he said. "All three of us sleep. Vex wakes us." Vex uncrossed her arms. "I am not crew." "You are a clock with a voice. Wake us at eleven." She almost smiled. "Eleven." Cora went into the office and lay down on the bench Bram had used. Omondi folded himself onto a coil of rope beside the mast and was out inside a minute. Bram sat with his back to the fuel crate and closed his eyes. He heard Vex go inside and set a kettle on. He woke to her boot against his knee. The light had shifted. His hands felt like his own again. Cora came out of the office chewing bread, eyes clear. Omondi stood at the mast checking the vent ring, steady. "Front is still slow," Vex said. "You have a five-hour window." Bram climbed to the bag. He ran his hand along the crown seam and found it tight. He set his journal on the console and opened to the coastal lane. "Cast off north," he said. Cora freed the line clean. The bag lifted. Bram eased the vent a quarter turn and felt the answer come up through the wheel, exact. They cleared the mast with room to spare and turned west, four hours behind Kesh, and flying a bag that would not break on the first mistake.