Through the monitors in the pilot’s cockpit, the Swordsman watched with a dull fascination as Rayna tormented the two men in the cargo hold with a sadistic look of pleasure over her face.
On his way back from the sick cabin, he found the pantry, and in it a fridge containing some bottled-up liquids. The dark-colored bottles were filled with an almost clear yellowish liquid that tasted slightly alcoholic, but were otherwise utterly unremarkable. The Swordsman took a sip of this; and deciding that it wasn’t any good, he grabbed the clear bottle instead and quenched his thirst with simple, plain water.
He briefly considered joining Rayna in the cargo hold, but then decided that all things considered, his injured shoulder notwithstanding, she could handle the situation as well as anyone else.
He glanced over to the screen that stood up from the console, showing a terrain map of some sort. It seemed to be a live feed, updating in little blips as the airship went along its way. If the dot in the middle of the screen was the HMS Clarent, the Swordsman figured that it must be a very big map.
On top of the dials and switches, there were several indicators, most of which he could not recognize for what they were. If he had learned to drive before, he might have recognized the fuel indicator, and saw that the needle was pointed dangerously close to “empty”. However, spent as his youth was on urgent and trivial things, the Swordsman never found the need to bother himself with automobiles.
Ignorance was temporary bliss.