The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2 by Nathan M Farrugia Page B

I not having second thoughts?’
    ***
     
    Jay woke to the sound of Damien mumbling softly in his sleep. He’d heard Damien return to bed earlier, so it was good to see he was getting some sleep for once. He dug under his pillow for his hip flask. It was exactly where he’d left it, beside his false New Zealand passport. The flask was two-thirds empty, which concerned him because they were only halfway through their travel. What day was it? Three, four? He’d lost track already. Whatever it was, he just wanted this to be over. He still hadn’t approached the skipper about a drop-off on the New Zealand’s western coast.
    He put his lips to the flask to let the Irish whiskey do the talking and, for the briefest of instants, saw the last six months of his life align like planets in orbit. It looked depressing, unremarkable. He started feeling sorry for himself, which started to annoy him. He capped the flask and tossed it back under his pillow.
    In the mess he found half his group at their usual table. This time there were no crew with them. The skipper was nowhere to be seen. At another table, he recognized Chickenhead and Big Dog. They were doing a bad job of pretending not to notice him. Either that or their breakfast was intensely interesting. Jay ignored them back, glad he didn’t have to deal in pleasantries, and, like an automaton, filled his plate with bacon, eggs and a very sad-looking sausage. He planted himself beside a very tired-looking Benito.
    ‘Didn’t sleep well?’ he asked.
    Benito shook his head and sipped a cup of orange juice.
    Sophia was sitting opposite him, with Nasira tucked in the corner. Nasira seemed to be the only one actually in a good mood. Sophia ate slower than usual; Jay could tell her mind was elsewhere.
    DC arrived with only half a plate of food. For a tall, broad man, he sure didn’t eat much. Sophia was eying him as she made way for him to sit. Neither said a word.
    Jay stood suddenly. ‘Coffee?’
    Everyone shook their heads. Jay shrugged and helped himself to some instant. He was pretty sure he heard one of the crew whisper, ‘Make way for the super soldier.’ That should’ve set him off, but right now he couldn’t be fucked. He just wanted coffee to compensate for the lack of whiskey.
    Damien arrived, poured himself a decaf and loaded up a modest plate of food. He parked himself next to Jay and started eating, one food at a time. First his eggs, then his bacon. Damien, the compartmentalized eater. Jay reminded himself this was why he was here: to eat. Once he’d lined his stomach, he started to feel better.
    He surveyed everyone at the table. DC looked barely social. Sophia was still staring into space as she ate. She was worlds away.
    Jay snapped his fingers to get her attention. ‘So,’ he said, ‘if I’m coming along for the ride, I’d like to know where we’re going.’
    Sophia finished chewing and turned to DC. ‘I second that. I’m all ears.’
    DC was busy stabbing scrambled eggs with a fork. ‘I can’t tell you that,’ he said.
    Jay shook his head. ‘That’s bullshit.’
    DC didn’t take his eyes from the eggs. ‘That’s protocol.’
    Jay threw up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Who are we going to tell? We’re all going there, aren’t we? You think I’m going to tweet this from twenty thousand leagues under the sea?’
    ‘Eight hundred feet,’ Nasira chirped from the corner.
    ‘Whatever,’ Jay said. ‘I didn’t sign up for this. I’m along for the ride, whether I like it or not. I’d at least like to know where the hell I’m going.’
    DC looked at him. ‘So you can work out how much whiskey you have to see you through? Is that it?’ He put his cutlery down. ‘Because it can’t be for any other reason.’
    Jay leaned in. ‘I’ve gone to hell and back for these people, for Sophia, for the Akhana.’
    ‘And you got paid for that,’ DC said.
    ‘Hold up, Kevin Costner.’
    DC blinked. ‘Kevin Costner?’
    Jay paused, making sure