Offshore
Episode 16: Candle Dance
Three days of regimental diets and workout schedules ended on Sunday morning. Anqien barrelled into the ferry terminal an hour before the sunrise, luggage swinging at their side. The Ukiba, the weathered steamship that ferried them to the race every year, towered over the wharf, its lamp-speckled smokestack silhouetted against the starry morning.
Straightening their jacket, they scanned the wharf and saw, radiant in fuchsia in a circle of lamplight, the unmistakeable shape of their teammate. Waving from across the concrete, they flew to meet her.
Anqien had long learned that these rides on the Ukiba, in which they shared the lounge with crew and sponsors, entailed generous amounts of polite socialising. Jinai was dressed for just that, wearing a shimmering, tailored gown of fuchsia silk, accented with lavender brocade flowers. It was split to the thigh, swishing and glimmering with every sway.
“Good to see you,” Jinai called as they stumbled to a stop before her.
“Uh—hello,” they answered, looking resolutely at her face, “how, how are you?”
She turned her head so she was smiling sidelong at them. “I’m fantastic, thank you, how about you?”
“I’m, good.” They nodded at the Ukiba. “Feels like leaving on a cruise every time. We should...probably head up.”
Together they went to meet the suits from Cloud Connectors, who mingled with the ferry crew by the gangplank. “Ah, there you are, Mx Liu, Ms Vailu, welcome!” A representative stepped up to meet them with their tickets. Once they had taken them, the two sailors were handed over to a ferry officer in smart black, sweeping them a bow and leading them up the gangplank into the towering steamship.
Emerging into the glinting lounge, they discovered Telaki already set up near the bar, looking sharp in a beige suit as she conversed with Janda. When the team arrived, their coach abandoned the intel officer, swooping forth to swallow them in a hug. “How are my little stars?” she exclaimed. “Ready for the big race?”
“About as ready as I could hope to be,” Jinai replied.
Anqien drew their mouth into a line. “I’m not.”
The conversation rambled through a scattering of light topics, Telaki buying them their drinks of choice while she launched into a tirade about her rocky taxi trip to the port. Many a time Anqien and Jinai turned to each other, exchanging a look that telegraphed I’ve heard enough about taxis for today, but they listened and nodded and voiced sympathetic dismay.
“Last time I said I’d never give them my business again, and yet—”
They were saved by the ferry’s foghorn cleaving the conversation in two, and then the crescendo of the ship’s engine as the vessel pulled out into the blue morning. Staring out the windows, they noticed the dark shapes of passengers congregating on the deck beneath their full-height windows.
“Ah, isn’t it nice to not be with the riffraff,” Janda sighed from just beyond their huddle, gazing through the glass as the golden lights of Muli Bay glided away towards the horizon.
“I feel kinda bad for it, to be honest,” Anqien said, chuckling. “We aren’t even paying for our own tickets.”
The public address tympana crackled then, emitting the buzz of the captain’s voice. “Welcome aboard the Ukiba!” they declared. “This is your captain Narao speaking, all set to take you southwest, to the city of Maka-do, Niro. The time now is six twenty in the morning. We are currently headed out of the beautiful harbour of Muli Bay, have a look at the lights if you can. The trip will be about twenty-five hours long, so make yourselves comfortable! Food and beverage services will begin shortly. We wish you a pleasant journey!”
Life in the top deck of the ferry felt almost no different from a leisure cruise, with drinks at their fingertips, a carpeted lounge room, and a hole-in-the-wall Niro restaurant one floor under. As the sun rose over the waters and stained the world pink, they chugged into the open sea, passing other marine traffic like a royal amongst commoners: fishing boats, sailboats, and coast guards, all well clear of their trajectory.
After offloading their luggage in their two-bed cabin, Anqien and Jinai took up residence in the lounge sofas and peered out on the passing sea. Peeking through the waves like the heads of breaching whales, they saw from above the islands they had verged before, landmarks on their westward flights. Each time Jinai stretched her legs on the chaise longue to adjust the gown over her knees, Anqien looked away.
It was hard to ignore Iki who spent much of the morning bumbling around the lounge while muttering, eyes affixed to his oversized filograph. “Hey, two of you,” he finally called out.
When they both turned, he dropped to a knee and flipped the device to face them. Onscreen, in whites and blues, glowed a map they knew well: of the three major landmasses and the speckling of smaller islands along the race route. Four cities on the map, each labelled among a web of topographical lines, were connected by hastily-scrawled lines.
“So, just a little preview,” said their navigator. “The route’s similar to last year’s, except for the change on the third port. Leg one runs from Maka-do to Nara-sa, then leg two from there to Antao, not Lijong.”
“Isn’t that just a few kilometres off?” Anqien put in.
“That’s right, no problems there as long as you’re paying attention.” Iki nodded. “Leg three runs from Antao back to Wulien, you know how it goes. We’re expecting weather to be a major factor, there are squalls on the forecast over the week. We’ve got Lujang with the anemo setup at the stern, gathering data as we speak.”
“Thanks for the great work, you two,” they said.
“Hey, I spent half my life studying for this role,” he answered, pushing up his glasses with barely concealed delight. “I’d be thrilled if my work could give you that final push to victory. You know?”
“I do know you’re amazing,” Jinai replied.
Iki’s sheepish thanks became an equally sheepish goodbye, and he disappeared down the ladder not a minute later, muttering about Lujang.
Telaki joined them briefly on the back of Iki’s interruption. “Sorry about all the ranting earlier,” she sighed, shaking her head. “That was too much, strike me down. Nothing a drink couldn’t soothe.”
“Glad you’re feeling better about it,” Jinai replied. “So who’ve you put in charge of the Cloudlander?”
“We got the Nitina Company in again,” she said. “They’re the ones you liked, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, it arrived in one piece,” Anqien answered. “That’s about as good as you could hope.”
“Oh, tell me about it. I’ve seen entire helms ripped from their axles. You’d have to go out of the way to achieve that, let me tell you.”
Outside of peering at the occasional islands and lagoons that floated by on the blue, the passing sea quickly became an exquisite wallpaper for their goings-on inside. They were proper socialites for the afternoon, making friends among the Cloud Connectors employees, cracking jokes and partaking of the canapes.
Afternoon passed into evening, and momentarily the sky on every side was awash in gold and red. Telaki, Jinai and Anqien were glued to the windows till the last sliver of pink had seeped out of the sky. Their coach sipped on a raspberry seltzer, and seeing their wanting looks she clicked her tongue and said, “No alcohol until after the race. We’ll toast to you, promise.”
So instead, before the hour of dinner brought the crowds, the pair clambered down the ladder in search of the Niro restaurant they’d made a habit of visiting every time they rode. The hole-in-the-wall counter peered into a traditional kitchen, furnished like an authentic establishment which almost seemed to give lie to the industrial metal passage they had just left. Here the velvet-draped tables were lit in red, purple and gold, and the dark carpet reflected no light. On three sides, tall windows looked onto the surface of the nighttime sea, and the plucking of a zither floated over the room from invisible tympana.
They sat down at a table in the centre and watched the dancing light of the spherical lantern in the middle, ornate metalwork throwing curlicued shadows across the tabletop. The waiter, straight-backed in a Niro-style coat, was nothing like Masiu or any of the waiters serving the tables on the Muli Bay promenade. They presented the leather-backed menus and asked for their orders in a rehearsed patter coated in a thick layer of formalities.
“I’ll never get over how stupidly fancy this place is,” Jinai whispered.
“I’m always keen for the braised lamb stew though,” Anqien answered. “Don’t think I’ve eaten anything this good since last year.”
Jinai, who had ordered the same—except with extra chili—nodded with a grin that flashed her teeth. “Telaki would throw a fit if she knew we were dining like this.”
“Oh, I know,” they replied. “We could stop eating when we feel like we’ve had enough. But let’s maybe…not worry too hard.”
Their companion nodded, and the conversation landed gently in silence, but still Anqien let their eyes wander over Jinai. The lights’ rainbow hues highlighted her every soft and sharp edge, the colours mingling on her skin and silken dress.
“What are you staring at?” Jinai murmured, a smile tweaking the corners of her lips.
Anqien’s gaze flew to the ceiling. “The lighting, it’s nice in here,” they replied.
No more words were spoken until the arrival of their dinners gave them both something to focus on. It was effortful eating for almost twenty minutes—rich stews of meat, vegetables and roots that they worked through until they grew sluggish. The sky dimmed, till it seemed the world beyond the windows had gone pitch black, catching only the lanterns’ reflections.
“This is a damn good meal,” Jinai said, pausing to slurp up a noodle strand, “but I think I’m about done.”
Anqien glanced at her bowl—the soup and gravy remained, along with some noodles. They felt they were approaching the same point, right next to full but hard-pressed to abandon the dish before they had found every morsel of lamb.
Wiping their mouths with the serviettes, they pushed their chairs back and stood. Not one step away from the table, Anqien felt Jinai’s hand tug on their wrist. “Wait up.”
“Yeah?” they said as her fingers dropped away. "What's up?"
She had fixed Anqien with a strange, intent stare that instantly sharpened their attention to a point. “A lot, to be honest,” she replied. “But if I could, right now—I wanted to ask…” Her voice dwindled to silence.
“Sure, ask about? The race?”
“There’s that, but this…” She wrung her hands, shifting her weight on her feet. “I got reminded of something Xye said, the other day. At the Sail Fed party.”
No words came for a few seconds. “Yeah, I remember that. You stopped talking when I showed up…was I not meant to hear?”
Jinai nodded slowly. “We were talking about you.”
Something about those words made a cold, leaden dread solidify in their chest. “Right. Makes sense.”
“She was trying to flirt with me, just your typical Xye, so I told her I wasn’t interested. Actually, I told her I wasn’t…interested in romance at all. Because I’m, um, still going through it after what happened with Josa, and, I’m just not ready. It wouldn’t be fair to…anyone else.”
Anqien felt their fingers going colder. “Yeah, you've had it really rough,” they murmured, “I figured as much. That you weren’t looking. But, you wanted to ask…”
By now, neither of them was facing the exit. “It’s just,” Jinai began, “Xye said you’d be disappointed if I told you. That I’m not looking for someone. I tried to convince myself she was just teasing, but I just haven’t been able to stop wondering…”
“Uh…well.” Each word hit like a thunderclap. They stood rooted to the ground, cornered by the storm with nowhere to run. Was this where they finally dropped the charade? “I appreciate you confirming that. Because…”
She sucked in a breath. “I’m not confirming anything—”
“Because she’s right, I am kind of disappointed? Because…” Their voice shrank. “A part of me was hoping? I promise, I understand everything that’s going on...I just...wish I could help any of this.”
“This? You mean…”
“I mean…” They clutched their face with both hands. “I'm just, kinda, extremely in love with you right now. That’s all. Sorry.”
Jinai’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow.”
That was it, then. There was no changing tack now. “I know you’re still dealing with all that stuff with your ex, and I mean, you’re my teammate, and I can’t imagine you'd ever be interested in someone like me anyway—”
“Hey, hey, don’t you start.”
“—and you’re just so amazing, and I’m just me, so—”
Anqien felt Jinai’s hand clamped down on their wrist, and they stopped short, hands falling away from their eyes. “Anqien.” She glared. “First off, thank you for being honest, it means a lot to me. Second, me saying ‘I’m not looking’ isn’t an invitation to put yourself down. I’ve been saying, and I’ll say it again—you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. And this doesn’t change that! If I reject you, it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because I’m not ready. And that’s on me.”
Everything fell out of focus as she spoke. None of these emotions made sense in combination—agony and elation, terror and relief, swirling in a fearsome cocktail in their chest. “You really think I’m…”
“Yes! You’re amazing, and you’re stunning by the way, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
They laughed unsteadily. “Gods, are you trying to make me fall harder?”
Jinai paused, eyes shining with all the hues of the room. “I’m, not sure,” she murmured.
“Oh.”
Even with that syllable, Anqien was aware of her hand slipping along their shoulder to spider over their nape. There was a demand in her eyes and in the pressure of her fingers, and they leaned into her pull, eyes closing as if before the crash of a wave.
Her hands were hard with use, but her lips were soft, pressed against theirs, filling their mind and washing out all thoughts like ocean currents rushing into tidepools.
No, wait, what happened to—
As each sensation registered, they felt like they were being lifted off the ground by an updraft. Dizzy, they let themself lean farther, cautiously deepening the kiss. Jinai responded in kind, eyes fluttering shut as her other hand crept to clasp their face.
In that moment, they felt like they might just pass out.
But Jinai wrenched herself away violently as she had dived in, and her warmth vanished. Her gaze snapped to the floor, and she gripped her forearms. "Uh, that, I shouldn’t have,” she said, “I wasn’t supposed to…” Then she groaned, hitting her forehead repeatedly with the ball of her palm. “I just said I wasn’t ready! I’m an idiot!”
"Hey! No, no, it’s fine!" Anqien stepped forward as Jinai shrank back. “I don’t expect anything, I promise!” That was all the words they could muster up.
She lowered her hand, dodging their gaze. “You're…so good, you know, you've always had an irresistibly energy from the day we met. And you deserve someone who can give you all of themself. Not—me.”
But there’s no one else like you. They felt the retort bubble up, but they did not speak it. “I get it,” they breathed. “I understand.”
"Besides," their teammate added with a bitter edge, "we can't get distracted. We have a race tomorrow. This never happened, alright?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m with you.” They turned to the counter, the aftershock of everything still holding them captive, and waved listlessly for the bill.
SURPRISE it happened before the ending. If you thought I wouldn't draw that moment, you were wrong.
In a spoiler just in case someone accidentally scrolls all the way down before reading the chapter:
