“No,” Liam said. “And if there was something, we’d see it from quite far away, I should think. We’d have plenty of time to prepare for whatever it was.”
Aaron nodded and dried his hand on his pants, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon. Every now and then he thought he saw a bump or two far away, but then the bumps would waver and almost disappear, though one seemed to be quite consistent. He stared at it until his eyes watered. Closing them for a moment, Aaron imagined himself sitting and relaxing on the rocks by the water. It seemed like it could be very pleasant here, as long as Quill wasn’t about to be attacked from all sides.
Soon the moment of peace passed, and he grew anxious again.
“All right, well, that’s enough of that.” He turned and started hiking up the rocky bank toward the palace. As he climbed, his mind replayed the conversation. Something was stuck in his craw and he couldn’t seem to get beyond it.
When they reached the driveway once more, Aaron turned to Liam. “What do you suppose Gondoleery is up to?”
Liam’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know, sir, but I’m not certain that I trust her to be fully, ah, supportive of you. I might be wrong, though.”
Aaron scowled, remembering the bolt of fire she’d hit Meghan with. “I don’t trust her either. She’s sneaky and dangerous. Don’t be afraid to speak up if you notice anything amiss, all right, Governor? But I’m betting on us. Once we get a plan in place with General Blair, we’ll have the full support of the Quillitary, and we’ll no longer have a need for her. I’m thinking it’ll soon be time to send Governor Rattrapp back to the Ancients Sector. Her usefulness to me has quite run out.”
Liam nodded. “That might solve some problems,” he said lightly. The biggest problem of all was more like it. It wouldn’t fix everything, but . . .
As always, Liam kept his thoughts to himself. It was an interesting tightrope to walk, he mused, and his respect for the dearly departed Eva Fathom continued to grow. He was actually a little afraid of being able to fill her shoes. He just couldn’t mess this up. Not for Artimé, not for Claire, and certainly not for Meghan, who was the only one who seemed to believe in him. At least for now.
The pressure was blinding.
Aaron Scores
The trip to the Quillitary was slow and labored due to the extra weight of the barrels, and for a time Aaron feared they wouldn’t make it. He was tempted to pour a bit of the oil into their jalopy’s engine to ensure their arrival, but after having topped off the barrels so perfectly, Aaron didn’t want to dip into the precious liquid until the general had seen it.
As they puttered along, Aaron took in the new, somewhat shocking view of the sea the entire way. The Quillitary and Necessaries had done a decent job smoothing out the rubble, spreading it from the side of the road, down the slope, and to the shore. Aaron had to admit the work was quite impressive. It was strange how quickly he was growing accustomed to seeing the water all around.
When they finally arrived inside the Quillitary grounds, Aaron, Liam, and the driver wrestled the barrels of oil from the vehicle. Aaron sent the driver away to wait for them while one of the Quillitary soldiers went to get General Blair.
As they waited, Aaron looked around. The Quillitary grounds remained enclosed with walls on all sides—only the gate provided access, as before. Aaron scratched his head, wondering about it, but soon General Blair came striding toward them. Aaron put the thought aside and stood tall, extending his hand in greeting.
The general eyed the barrels. “What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s the oil I promised you for your vehicles,” Aaron said. “Would you like to have a look?”
“Humph,” the general said.
Aaron took that to mean yes, so he unfastened the lid of one of the barrels and lifted it, letting the excess oil drip back in.
General Blair dipped his finger into the liquid and withdrew it. He rubbed the oil between his thumb and finger and studied the residue. He put his thumb to his nose and sniffed, then held his hand out in front of him, regarding the oil once more.
“Does it work?” he asked.
Aaron blinked. He hadn’t actually done a test. Liam shifted uncomfortably next to him, and Aaron blurted out, “Of course it works.”
“Let’s see, then.” The general looked around the yard and chose one of the vehicles that seemed to be in good shape.
Aaron, who had forgotten to bring along a smaller can in which to transport the oil, looked around the yard for something he could use. He found a rusty pail, shook out the dust, and dipped it into the barrel, careful not to make it overflow.
Cupping his hand under the pail to catch every precious drop, Aaron walked over to the vehicle. The general lifted the hood and propped it open, and then he stood back and folded his arms across his chest.
Aaron looked over all the different parts of the engine, trying to figure out what each was for, and trying to locate the right spot for the oil without giving away his ignorance. After careful examination, Aaron determined that there were only three possible parts into which he could pour liquid. He eliminated one of them immediately, and then blindly chose from the other two, unscrewed the cap, and peered inside. He couldn’t see anything, but it smelled faintly like chicken grease.
Feeling quite sure he’d found the right spot, he first crawled under the vehicle, looked around for a way to remove the existing grease, unscrewed a cap below the tank, and drained the liquid that was in there. When the container was empty, he closed the drain, slid out, and poured his cashew oil into it. He screwed the cap on and dropped the hood with a startling clang, then went to the driver’s seat to see if he could get the vehicle to start. He’d never done that before, either, but he’d watched how it was done on several occasions and he felt pretty comfortable giving it a try. He glanced at Liam, who was doing a terrible job of hiding his anxiety, and turned the key that sat in the ignition.