Read Wind Dancer: Secret War Steampunk Series - Adventure, Mystery + Mad Science for Free Online

were hired on this ship. One
of them stated that you not push yourself on a shipmate unwilling, remember?
You may nod your head,” she ordered. Olaf found that he could no longer move
his lips to reply to this nightmare in front of him. In fact, he couldn’t move
a single muscle in his body of his own will. He silently began gibbering inside
as his head moved up and down of its own accord.
    “I could gut you right now, and not a soul here would stop
me,” she stated sweetly. “I suspect, however, that you fell in with bad company.”
She glanced over at the two riggers who were rooted to the spot in horror. “Is
that right? You may nod your head again.”
    Olaf nodded again, the whites of his eyes showing. Saira
nodded in mock sympathy.
    “As I thought,” she said calmly. “Now remember Olaf Anderson,
the women of this ship, and even some of the men, are much fiercer than I, and
not as understanding.” She shook her head as the razor edge parted the cloth of
his pants with ease. Olaf dropped his mug. “Can you remember that Olaf?” He
nodded again.
    “Good,” Saira smiled up at him again. “Now remove your hand
from my shoulder, slowly, and say you are sorry for interrupting.”
    His hand did so, otherwise his body would not move. Then
wetting dry lips, Olaf mumbled what sounded like an apology.
    “Good boy!” Saira replied with a grin. “You can go sleep it
off now.” She released her hold on his spirit, while moving the knife away.
Olaf’s eyes rolled up into his head as he collapsed on the floor with a thud.
There were hoots and laughter from the other patrons in the mess as the giant
fainted away.
    “You two,” she ordered, pointing her knife at the two
riggers. “Take him back to his berth.” The two came forward each taking one of
the giant’s arms. They hauled him up between them. “Arms-Master…” one of them
began.
    “Do not even try,” she said coldly. Saira made a cutting
motion with her forearm-long knife. “I know what has happened here. Be grateful
I do not turn my eye on you . Now git,” she waved the knife. ‘Git’ was
one of Cap’n Wills’ expressions which she approved of completely. Nothing in
English quite said the meaning so well. The two hapless men swiftly took their
burden away. Entertainment over, the watchers in the mess returned to their
previous conversations. Saira made the knife disappear and picked up her bottle
again.
    “My fault,” she said ruefully to McGuire. “I should have been
here to meet the new hires in Calcutta.”
    “So you do not think friend Anderson will be with us long?”
McGuire knew that she had been off ship for several days, but didn’t ask where
she had been. You didn’t pry into what others did in their off-time. If she
wanted to say, she would have.
    “Oh, his spirit is not truly bad,” she replied. “He was full
of drink and stories from the riggers. We will have to see what he does with
what has happened to him when he wakes.”
    “Well, I be afraid that you have a true challenge coming your
way,” Michael said looked over her shoulder, “one named ‘Rogers’.” He stood up,
draining his mug. “I was on the bridge when he learned of your shooting feat,
and he was mad as a wet chicken.”
    “Mr. McGuire,” Rogers said crisply, coming to stand at the
table. In his hands were two bottles. “I believe that your presence will be
required on the bridge shortly.”
    “Aye Aye, Mr. Rogers, I was just on my way.” McGuire gave
Saira a look as if to say ‘good luck’ and hurried off.
    “Arms-Master Brighton,” he began, and then stood there
awkwardly with the two bottles.
    “Mr. Rogers,” Saira said coolly. She raised an eyebrow at the
bottles. “Two? I know it has been a difficult day but I think that you would
want to make a better example to the crew. Two fisted drinking so lacks
discipline.”
    “Damnation Mr. Brighton,” he hissed between clenched teeth.
“Can we at least do this with a modicum of