Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Under the Five Moons ❯ Fateful Meetings ( Chapter 2 )

See previous chapter for disclaimer. I don't own Trigun, those people I mentioned before do.

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Inside the steamer, Jeremiah had finally gained an upper hand in the card game. The funny part was that he had done it without cheating. A quirk of fate had landed him with four kings. "Aha! Four of a kind"

Nikki slammed her cards down on the table. "You've been cheating all night! Of course you have four kings!'

"Oh come on! I didn't cheat this time, God just smiled upon me! Anyway, you've been cheating just as badly as I have!"

Nikki leaned back and crossed her arms. "How could you make such an accusation? I am a lady of breeding, and would never cheat!" She stuck her nose up in the air.

Jeremiah rested his head on his hand. " A lady of breeding eh? What kind of lady of breeding wanders around with two over-sized six shooters?" He said pointing to Nikki's revolvers. He continued, "What kind of lady of breeding has knives hidden under her jacket," gesturing to Nikki's red jacket. Nikki reached across the table to the deck. Jeremiah's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "And what kind of lady," he said, "carries extra aces in her sleeve?" He reached into her sleeve and pulled out an ace of hearts.

Nikki chuckled. "The same kind as a gentleman who carries extra kings in his," she said. Her hand shot out and pulled a king of clubs out of Jeremiah's sleeve before he could react. The both grinned and each other as the sand steamer rolled on.

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On the bridge of the steamer, the captain sucked at his coffee. "There is nothing on the planet," he said to no one, "like a good cup of coffee on a cold night." He sipped at his coffee again.

The helmsman smiled. "I'll agree with you on that one sir. Any chance of me getting one?"

The captain smiled into his coffee. "Helmsman, you may have a cup of coffee when your replacement comes and not a moment before. Coffee this good has to be earned." He took another sip of his coffee.

Noise erupted from the tube to the engine room. "Uhhh… Captain?"

The captain sighed. Couldn't these people just leave him to enjoy his coffee? "What is it engine room?"

"Well sir, the 3rd portside tank is reading kinda high. We're getting kinda worried own here…"

The helmsman raised a hand. "Sir, I got an idea" The captain nodded to him. "Move the pressure from the 3rd portside tank to the 5th starboard tank, then move some of the heavier luggage from the starboard hold to the port hold to compensate for the weight."

The captain shook his head; it was always kind of creepy the way the helmsman knew the ship so well. He relayed the instructions to the engine room and hung up the tube. He signaled to a crewman. "Get Helmsman Kaite some of this delectable coffee, he's earned it."

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Out in the desert, all was calm. The only noise was the steamer as it chugged along on its journey. The passengers inside played cards, the crew drank their coffee, and one man out on an overlooking cliff enjoyed his cigar.

An explosion ripped through the night, spraying rubble in the steamer's path. Kaite threw himself on the wheel and the steamer swerved to the right. As the steamer swerved, Nikki and Jeremiah flew to the floor. About twenty yars away, Lt. Evans stood up and scanned the horizon for the source of the explosion. Right next to the steamer, the outlaws took advantage of the momentary slow down by scrambling up the steamer's various ledges and handholds. Their leader elected to simply leap up onto the deck. He pressed his face up to the window and tapped on the glass.

"Goin' my way?"

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It took about five seconds after falling on the floor for Nikki and Jeremiah to react. Nikki ran to the door and Jeremiah bolted for the window. "Uh oh," he said.

Nikki turned around. "Badlads?" she asked.

"Well, somebody's climbing up here. Doesn't look like the Badlads, unless Brilliant Dynamites Neon ran out of florescent lights."

Nikki rolled her eyes, grabbed her revolvers, and snapped them open. "I don't suppose," she said as she loaded them, "that I could have one peaceful day with an old friend?"

Jeremiah grinned and shook his head. "Told you so," he said.

Nikki snapped the revolver shut and tossed it to Jeremiah, it's red surface barely reflecting the faint, artificial light. She opened the green one and shoved some bullets in. "I know, I know. I appear to have inherited my father's trouble magnet." She snapped the revolver shut with a decisive click.

There was a pounding at the door. "Open up, the boss wants to see y'all!" Nikki and Jeremiah glanced towards each other.

"Window?"

"Window."

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On a short cliff overlooking the sand steamer, Lt. Evans stared at the takeover. He backed away from the cliff and turned to his thomas. "Well," he said to his thomas, "It's only a couple of yars down, right? If I time right, I shouldn't break. . . too many bones." He shook his head, "I've been out here too long if I'm talking to you."

He sprinted towards the cliff's edge as the steamer barreled towards him. "I MUST BE INSANE!" he yelled as leapt over the edge.

He was about halfway through the jump when he realized that he had undershot the mark. "Ohhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttt!" He slammed into the side of the steamer as it slowly accelerated. He scrambled to find a hold, but his grasping hands could find no purchase. Grimacing, he felt himself slowly sliding down the steamer, and admitted to himself that this was probably a pretty stupid idea.

Just before he fell off, a black-gloved hand swung around to catch him by the arm. Evans looked up at his savior. She was tallish, with blonde hair cut short for practicality's sake. Here blue-green eyes tried showed a combination of worry and annoyance. The left side of her long jacket bulged outwards, more than likely hiding a revolver in a shoulder holster. The maleness in Evans realized two things. The first was that she was very pretty. The second was that if he moved just right, he could probably see up her dress. Fortunately, the brain realized that this would probably get them killed and overrode the testosterone influence.

Jeremiah, standing on the ledge that Nikki was hanging from, saw that the situation would result in a very painful death for the both of them. The guy Nikki just caught was way too heavy; she would never be able to hold on with just one arm. Suffering from a great desire not to see his friend fall to a painful death, he leaned over and pulled them in both. All three collapsed against the steamer walls. Evans turned to Nikki and tipped his hat. "Ma'm".

Nikki slapped him in the face. "What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed yourself!"

"I dunno," Evans said, "seemed like a good idea at the time." He shrugged. "Hell, what else was I gonna do? Just wait around while they hijacked a sand steamer?"

Jeremiah breathed in heavily. "Don't be so hard on the guy Nikki, you know damn well we both would've done the same thing in his situation."

Nikki opened her mouth to say something, but when faced with Jeremiah's analyzing stare, she couldn't bring herself to lie. Instead, she turned to the crazy jumper and stretched out her hand. "Nikki Stryfe, at your service." Evans shook it. Jeremiah reached out his own hand. "Jeremiah T. Wolfwood, pleased to meetcha," he said.

Evans looked at his other rescuer. This guy was damn tall, with sandy brown hair sticking out at angles. His carefree grin was off set by a pair of intense blue eyes that seemed to stare straight threw yours and right into the back of your mind. His blue suit was in desperate need of cleaning, though his tie was surprisingly straight.

Evans slumped back against the wall. "I'm Lieutenant Evans Braxler of 14th Calvary," he said, "You two armed?" Nikki drew the green revolver from her shoulder holster. Jeremiah raised the red one. "I've got this," he said, "but I'd be better off if can get to the cargo hold. That's where my gun is."

A speaker beside the started to crackle as it came to life. Then a voice came out of it. It was a voice to slither and slime it's way into your very soul. It was a horrible, evil, untrustworthy voice that would promise you everything than take everything the moment you turned your back. It wasn't the voice of the devil, but it came damn close.

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"Greetings all passengers aboard this fine sand steamer. A special greeting to the worms clinging to the side, don't think I don't know you're there. Now, I am here to assure you that about 95% are going to live through the night. The rest of you will not be as lucky. Just as a piece of advice, a great way to add yourself to the 5% is to show an unreasonable attachment to your personal possessions. Thank you, good night, and be sure to tip the food girls, they do work so hard." A hand set the tube back in its place. The hand, they eyes, and the voice all belonged to a pale man with dark hair and hungry green eyes. He had taken off his brown coat and now sat languidly on the console.

In fact, Kaite noticed, in almost the exact same position Brilliant Dynamites Neon had occupied twenty-two years ago. Kaite couldn't take it much longer; the irony was too much for him. "Look who the hell are you anyway? I'd just like to know the name of the psycho holding us hostage!" he yelled. The captain flinched; the helmsman might have just added them all to the 5% list. The man seemed completely unconcerned by Kaite's outburst. He reached out to pet the same black cat Jeremiah had encountered earlier. The cat hissed and backed away. The man raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

He grabbed the speaking tube from its resting place. "Please forgive my lack of manners, I forgot to introduce myself," he said. He grinned, revealing two very sharp fangs. "I am the twenty-first Gung-Ho Gun, Martinez the Bloodsucker."

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"Twenty-first?" Nikki said.

"Gung-Ho Gun?" Jeremiah said. They both looked at each other, remembering a day five years ago. It was the last time they had both seen Nikki's father. He had told them a story then, a story about him, Jeremiah's father, their mothers, Nikki's uncle, and a group of people known as the Gung-Ho Guns.

"Well, any ideas anyone?" Evans asked, breaking into their remembrance. "I mean; we're certainly not going to retake the steamer with your revolvers, my service pistol and saber, are we?"

Jeremiah shook his had as if to clear of the thought of Nikki's father. "If we can get to the cargo hold and get my luggage, the odds will tip back into our favor," he said.

"You must be packin' some heat there buddy," Evans returned.

Jeremiah grinned and nodded. "You don't know the half of it, my thomas riding friend." He stood up and looked around for an entrance back into the steamer. He pointed at a window. "If we go through that window we should be able to sneak to the cargo hold with little trouble." Evans stood up. "Works for me," he said.

Nikki stood and swung herself up onto a ladder. "You two go down and get Jeremiah's luggage, I'll get a closer look at what's going on in the bridge. I wanna see this `Bloodsucker' for myself."

"Alright, don't get yourself killed Nikki."

"Do I ever?"

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Jeremiah: Everyone has faith in something. Even if it's faith in the idea that there is nothing to have faith in, we all believe in something. The creatures of the night are rumored to fear holy objects, but the question is why? Some believe that they cannot stand to be near a symbol of an enemy, but I feel differently. I believe that when you have been in the night long enough, faithless and friendless, the reminders of your old ways frighten you. This fear of the old ways then becomes so hard set that the creatures develop a literal allergy to them. Now it burns to the touch, those old ways. Next Chapter: Faithless Monster