Big Red

Chapters

Branching Paths
Separate Ways
Apprehension
Good intentions
Pact
Birds Of A Feather
Onslaught
Favors
Revelry
The Pirate's Code
Medicine Woman
Strange Bedfellows
Miscommunication
Preparation
Tides of war
The Storm
Babbling Lips
Sinking Ships
Sailor's Delight
Triumph
One for the road

Branching Paths

You could always count on an Apple.

For a few generations now, that had been a frequent enough phrase in Mansfield that even visitors left knowing it was true, using it themselves even if they didn’t fully know why.

Even before their national recognition by the crown with an honorary nobility or, more locally, the town’s mayor granting the middle Apple child an award from the town itself, everyone knew the Apples were a clan to be depended upon and trusted. “No Apple would ever cheat you.” “Apples’ll always tell you how it is.” “I’d trust an Apple sooner ‘an my own wits.”

You could always count on an Apple.

But some Apples could be counted on different things than others.

The current crop of Mansfield Apples were united under this familial truth. Bound by more than a name, but a tradition going back generations, a tighter knit family would be hard pressed to come by. And yet, despite this unshakable similarity, each Apple stood apart, a unique individual capable of walking their own true path.

The previous matriarch of the family, lovingly called Granny Smith by family and friends alike, had often described it similar to their orchards. Despite the distinct varieties or even the differences in individual fruits on one tree, they were all apples. It didn’t matter where you went, or where you were from--they were all Apples; they were all family.

She had been known for her homegrown brand of wisdom, even well before her first grey hair. One could always count on Granny Smith Apple to know just what to say, no matter the situation. And often without asking.

The next eldest of the Mansfield Apples was quite the opposite. Where Granny had been a source for the troubled to get advice on what to do, Macintosh--Big Mac to most--could be counted on just doing. Even before the tragic car accident that took his parents’ lives, he had been taciturn, preferring drawled out monosyllables when he had to speak and actions when he didn’t. He’d taken his place as head of the farm easily, working hard almost every day to see his family farm continue to prosper.

Folding back the other way, the middle Apple, Jack, was not only a doer but an incredibly vocal doer. Above all things, one could count on Jack Apple to be true to herself, honest and open, regardless of the situation or circumstance. She’d not only made wonderful, lasting friendships but earned the respect of the entire town of Mansfield. Granny Smith had called her an Apple’s Apple, and no one could disagree.

Which left the last of the Mansfield Apples: Alice Apple. Though a devoted and much beloved member of the family, even the Apples had to admit that the thing a person could most count on from Alice Apple was a knack for getting into trouble. Earnestly, with nothing but the best of intentions, true, but trouble nonetheless. After founding the Crusaders with her two friends, Sarah and Stephanie, that trouble had only multiplied by leaps and bounds. Still, as Granny would often be heard saying, those with a knack for getting into trouble also had a knack for getting out, sooner or later. And young Apples often had a strong need to prove themselves, whatever the consequences.

With all the things her sister and friends were doing, it was inevitable she’d find a way to help, no matter how small. Or how big. She just needed an opportunity.

Realizing that no one was going to give her one, she decided to find her own. Though she was allowed in the Hub--the base of operations for Jack and the others--she would always be shooed out when they talked of anything important.

That’s why she had had no choice but to sneak in.

Though most of her eavesdropping sessions had amounted to nothing, the night before, she had heard the news that Twila’s brother, Llewellyn Shields, and the Dark Princess herself, Luna, had been exiled to a region called the ‘Ghost Rim’. Twila wasn’t prepared to go there herself. She had other priorities. So if she couldn’t, Alice would.

It had taken hours and several mugs full of coffee but somehow, Alice had managed to stay awake longer than everyone else in the house. Through till morning, in fact. She lay under her bed sheets, reading a book on the Ghost Rim by candlelight. The book had been ‘borrowed’ from Twila’s library, and it was the only research Alice could afford to do. Unfortunately, it didn't tell her much.

She quietly listened for any sounds. The only thing she could hear was the slow, rumbling snores of her brother. Nodding to herself, she shut the book and blew out the candle, then carefully climbed out of bed.

Kneeling down, she retrieved a rugged, brown backpack from under her bed. She had already packed everything she needed, simple supplies like food, a multi-purpose knife...only things she’d need. Finally, she got changed out of her yellow pyjamas and got changed into her normal clothes, overalls and all.

Now came the hardest part. Alice bit her lip, taking a wary step closer to the door. The floorboards creaked in protest as she moved, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes every time they made a sound. The house was incredibly old, no comfort to thieves.

Eventually she made it to her door and, with a trembling hand, turned the knob. The door slowly swung open, creaking of course. Once she was in the hallway, Alice closed the door behind her. If it looked like she was having a lie-in tomorrow, that’d buy her some time. She wasn’t stupid; she knew her family would come looking for her if--no, when--they found out she was gone.

She slipped past the bedroom doors as quietly as the building would let her. She had made this journey before and, every time, her sister caught her in the act. That was when she was young though. This time would be different.

The young woman stopped just outside Jack’s door, leaning towards it. She could hear light snores from two people: Jack and Dash. Alice smiled to herself before continuing onward; at least they weren’t doing anything raunchy.

Then came the stairs. A stealther’s worst enemy. Alice swallowed and went for it, each step making its protest at her every move. Once she reached the bottom floor, she froze in place, listening out for any movement. Nothing. Alice grinned.

She was home free now.

But she wasn’t completely done yet. Before she left, one final thing had to be done. It’d completely reveal her intentions but to not do so just wasn’t... Apple. The last thing Alice wanted was her family to worry sick over her. Especially Jack.

Going into the living room, she spotted what she needed on the small, coffee table. A notepad, accompanied by a pen. She crouched down, crawling over to them and peering at the front page of the pad. It seemed that Pinkie had done some crazy doodles. Or something, it was hard to tell exactly.

Ripping the front page off revealed another, blank one. Alice picked up the pen and began to determinedly scribble down what she needed to say,

Guys;

I’m sorry. I can’t just sit around anymore. I’ve gotta help. I promise I’ll be back with Luna before you know it.

She hesitated, and then quickly added,

Love you all.
-Alice

It was a short note, yes, but hopefully it’d get her point across. She wasn’t really a wordsmith anyway. Taking one last hard look at her words, she headed out of the room, going to the front door. She paused when her hand touched the cold door knob, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes.

Here I go.

Her eyes flashed open, and she opened the door, almost leaping outside and slamming the door behind her. She began to sprint away but gave the old house--her home--one last look. With a sad smile, she wiped a tear from her eyes and went on towards her first destination: the clubhouse.

In life in the Tyrant’s reign, it was comforting to know that she didn’t decide to burn down clubhouses. Alice and her friends’ ‘homebase’ still stood alongside the great apple tree, located in the eastern field. Thankfully far removed from the damage that was inflicted on the farm. For the girls, it was and always would be a safe haven of sorts.

Originally the clubhouse was Jack’s, but it had been reduced to a dire state since then. Alice took up the mantle of maintaining it, repairing and sprucing it up herself. While she was proud of her efforts, Alice always preferred to help her family out rather than build some tables.

Alice walked up the ramp, wood creaking under her feet. Hopefully she’d find her two best friends here and if not... well, she’d wait and think over what she had heard. After she had overheard Twila and Spike, she’d immediately sent word to her friends to meet up with her in the morning, as early as they could manage.

Thankfully, a bored groan from within told Alice all she needed to know. She strided inside the main clubhouse room, spotting a Scrabble board between her two friends.

On the right, a girl with messy, cerise hair sat, chin resting on her hand. She let out a long sigh, staring at the board without any interest. Opposite her was a girl who may as well been the complete opposite. She had curly, but well groomed, purple hair, with pale pink highlights. She wore a lavender skirt and white t-shirt, contrasting with the other’s orange hoodie and denim jeans.

“Stephanie, can we stop this boring game now? We already know you’re going to win...”

“Wait!” Stephanie exclaimed, hurriedly putting some tiles onto the board. She then giggled with excitement and cheered, “Triple word score!”

“Yeah, whatever...” The tomboy rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Scoots, hey, Sweetie. Whatcha doing?” Alice asked as she approached.

“Ending this boring game, that’s what,” Scoots answered, flipping the board and sending tiles flying into the air.

“Sarah! Now we’re gonna have to clean that all up!” Sweetie protested, folding her arms and pouting.

“Yeah yeah, we can do that later.” Alice waved a hand dismissively. “I got news and an awesome idea!”

Scoots raised an eyebrow, shuffling closer towards Alice. “I do like awesome ideas. Go on.”

“Well listen up!” Alice cleared her throat before explaining, “I heard Spike and Twila listening to the radio and that on these islands called the ‘Ghost Rim’--”

“Did you say ‘Ghost Rim’...?” Sweetie asked, freezing in place.

Alice gave Stephanie a blunt look. “Yeah. I did. Anyway!” she exclaimed, taking in a breath before unloading her spiel. “They heard that Princess Luna herself might be on these Ghost Rim Islands and--”

“Alice, where are you going with this?” Scoots questioned, tilting her head to the side.

“If ya’ll let me finish, maybe you’d find out!” Both Scoots and Sweetie nodded rapidly, saying no more. “Good. Now mah sister and her friends aren’t gonna go there ‘cause they don’t have the time or somethin’. So I was thinkin’ that if they won’t, we can!”

Stephanie and Sarah shared skeptical looks before staring back at Alice, Sweetie raising a hand like a timid child in a school lesson.

“Yes. Y’all can talk now,” Alice deadpanned.

“Alice, I don’t think that that’s a very good idea...” Sweetie said, resuming her tidying up.

Alice frowned, glaring at her friends. “Why in the hell not?”

“As awesome as it sounds, that plan has more holes in it than the sweaters Sweetie knitted us for Christmas.” Stephanie blushed, busying herself with the scrabble pieces while Scoots continued, “First, how do we know that they’re even still there?”

Alice puffed out her chest and confidently answered, “‘Cause Twila knew it. And her brother’s there, so if she’s sure, then she’s right.”

“How does that even work?”

Alice shrank, rubbing her chin. “Uh... well it’s a sibling thing! I could tell when either Jack or Mac were in trouble, if I thought about ‘em.”

Sarah swatted her fringe away from her eyes. “Okay, so even if they are there... how do you plan on getting to the Ghost Rim?!”

The farm girl leant towards Scoots, staring into her eyes with a deadly seriousness. “Well maybe if you’d help me figure this out instead of whinin’ ‘bout it, we could figure that out!”

Scoots snorted in defiance, bringing her head closer to Alice’s so that their noses almost touched. “We’re not whining, we’re being smart!”

“Says the girl who thought disturbing a hive full of bees would be a funny idea!” Alice retorted. It wasn’t long before the two girls were butting heads quite literally.

“Guys! Stop arguing already!” Sweetie stepped in, pulling the angry Scoots away. “Both of you just calm down,” she ordered in a motherly tone that almost mimicked her sister.

“She started it,” Alice said, pointing at her former opponent.

Sarah widened her eyes in anger. “No way! She--”

“GUYS!”

Both Alice and Scoots flinched at the extremely loud yell. For such a sweet looking girl, Stephanie had one of the loudest voices in the world. She could even give Pinkie a run for her money. And she sounded better, too.

“Look, Alice,” Sweetie said before the others could bicker again. “We both understand that you want to help your sister out, but we’re just looking out for you. We’ve done some crazy things in the past. But this could be really dangerous.”

“But I’m tired of doin’ nothin’ while my sister risks her life out there! Ya know what happened to her! She could’ve died!” Alice shouted, raising herself onto two feet.

“But she didn’t, Alice!” Sweetie replied, getting a little heated by Alice’s raw emotion. She could definitely feel her hurt and anger. Still, she tried to not let it affect her. “There’s no sense in risking your life too.”

“So ya want me to stand by and do nothin’?! Mah sis ain’t...” Alice swallowed harshly. She could feel her eyes getting watery. “She ain’t invincible...”

“Yeah, but she’s your sister. With her friends, they can handle anything,” Scoots pointed out, leaning back on the floor, resting her head on her hands.

Alice glanced at the nonchalant girl. “Oh really?! Have ya seen mah sis lately?! She’s... she’s real messed up. She puts on a brave face but...” Alice was failing to make one of her own, tears starting to coalesce. “She’s hurtin’... I can tell.”

Scoots sat upright, now looking at her distressed friend with concern. Sweetie extended a hand towards Alice, calmly saying, “Alice, we just--”

Alice batted away her hand. “Don’t say anythin’. I need some time to mahself.”

Before the other two could interject, Alice was already heading out of the clubhouse, lost into the maze of apple trees.

“Single to Gaingridge, please,” Alice requested, looking through the glass at the woman before her. She nodded in recognition and pressed a few buttons on a device near her side, printing out a ticket.

“That’ll be six dollars and twenty cents.” Her voice was monotonous. But who’d expect anything else from someone working the early morning shift?

Alice dug into her pocket, retrieving the required amount of change. “Here ya go.” She was given her ticket and left without another word.

She went through the lobby and onto the station proper. Scraps of rubbish blew about in the wind. Some of the ads pasted on the nearby walls were faded and torn. The station was almost dead. Not many came or went these days, considering the rising tensions lately. Alice remembered when this had been a fairly fun place to go; a gateway to new horizons.

The sign displaying train times told her all she needed to know. It was simple enough; the final destination of the train she had to go on was the port town, Gaingridge. But Mansfield was fairly landlocked--there were several other stops along the way, so this wouldn’t be a short journey.

Alice squinted her eyes, peering at where the sign, looking for which platform the train would dock at. “Er... platform two,” she muttered out loud to herself.

Looking up, she spotted another sign helpfully displaying the way to the right platform. She followed the direction it gave her, going down a tunnel that went under the tracks. The tunnel was arguably the worst part of the station. Dark, smelly and wet, with graffiti coating the walls. Unconsciously, Alice sped up her pace when going through it.

Her stomach began to rumble when she emerged from the darkness, but Alice told herself to wait until she was on the train before eating. She hugged herself in order to try and ward off the bitter, morning chill. Sitting down on a rusty, metal bench, she immediately regretted doing so, her rump feeling like it was sitting on ice. She did up the zip on her brown, patched-up coat and waited for the train to arrive.

She decided to go over her general plan. Gaingridge was a port town in the south of Torani. From there, Alice needed to take a boat to the island port of Misemo and then... find some way to the Ghost Rim. She’d cross that bridge when it came--money could take a girl anywhere. Scoots and Sweetie had laughed, but she’d knew that saving up her money for a special emergency was a good idea.

Alice yawned, then flicked herself on the cheek for doing so. Sleep could wait until the journey. According to the timetable, her train arrived in ten minutes. So she’d have to wait fifteen; public transport was never reliable.

A pit of emptiness began to form in her stomach. It wasn’t hunger.

Dang it Alice, stop feelin’ so homesick already! You’ll be back before ya know it! Alice grinned to herself. And with a Princess!

Fact was, she didn’t need to feel lonely because she was never truly alone. She put her hand down her shirt, retrieving a silver locket that hung around her neck. Opening it up carefully, she smiled when she saw what was inside: A picture of her parents, her mother holding a small baby with a red bow on her head. She was beautiful, with blonde hair that cascaded down her sharp, angled face and green eyes projecting motherly warmth. Next to her, with a large, powerful hand on her shoulder, was a heavily tanned plain-faced giant, with a red beard and scraggly, unkempt blonde hair. Despite his brutish appearance, Alice always noticed the small, trace beginnings of a smile at one corner of his mouth. In a way, it reminded the girl of her brother.

Love ya, Ma, love ya, Pa, she thought, giving the picture a light kiss, then slipping the locket back under her shirt.

The rumbling, grating sound of a train coming into the station interrupted Alice from her nostalgic memories. ‘Bout time.

Alice stood up, the train grinding to a halt on the rails. It was a simple vehicle, merely a dull grey in color. Looking inside, the seats didn’t look very luxurious either. She went to the train doors, watching them part aside. No one went out, so she went on in.

She took her seat well away from anyone else, placing her bag on the small table that came from the wall. Her place was next to the window so, in case she couldn’t sleep, she had something to look at.

Opening up her bag, she rummaged around in it for a while before retrieving a shiny, red apple. Licking her lips in anticipation, she took a big bite out of it. It was fresh, juicy and tasted really good. How could it not? It was from her farm after all.

It wasn’t long before the doors closed, and the train started chugging along. Alice’s stomach lurched slightly; she was sitting with her back to the direction the train was going in, and it felt a little disorientating. She got used to it soon enough though.

Eventually Alice had reduced the apple to a mere core. She peered at it, wondering what to do with the leftovers. Shrugging, she simply chucked it aside. It would hardly look astray alongside the empty packets and crumbs anyway.

Her stomach content, but not full, Alice folded her arms and leaned back against the seat. With a big yawn, she slowly closed her eyes. By the time she would wake up, the others would know that she had left. The thought of that unsettled her, yet she had bigger priorities to focus on.

She wasn’t a Prince or knight by any stretch of the imagination, but she was gonna do whatever it took to find Princess Luna.

The buzz of an alarm clock rose Macintosh from his slumber. He reached over and slammed the top of the device, rising sluggishly. It was the worst part of his day, rising. He lived for the hard work and satisfaction of getting things done with his own two hands, but mornings...

Yawning, he scratched underneath the elastic of his briefs and moved to the closet. Mac chose the gold standard--plaid, long sleeved shirt and jeans--and went to the bathroom down the hall. After a blissful hot shower, he emerged feeling a bit more like himself. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. Twenty past six. Good. He was actually on schedule for once.

Macintosh decided to bite the bullet and went back to his room to work on tending to the farm’s bookkeeping at the small table by his nightstand. He hated the fact that he was currently balancing their budget around dirty money, but it wasn’t like they had much choice.

Besides, it was at least giving Alice a nice little college fund.

It was hours later when Mac heard the room next door open, followed by the businesslike footsteps of his sister. Behind those, the nearly numb, clumsy footsteps of Isabelle. A few more hours and she’d be able to dance on the head of a pin. After just waking up? He’d seen newborn calves with better coordination.

He chuckled under his breath, then gave a small sniff in the air.

Someone was making pancakes. Alice’s favorite.

The giant of a man rose, smiling nostalgically at the thought of the youngest Apple. He remembered making pancake men for her all the time when she was around nine or ten. Bacon smiles, hashbrown hair, strawberry eyes. She always said she was too old for those kiddy things now, but she still seemed like a little girl to Mac.

Humming a merry little tune, he pushed aside the dozens of receipts lining the table and went to the hallway. Mac went to Alice’s room and knocked on the door.

“Sweet pea? Time ta get up. Soup’s on,” he drawled out in his deep baritone voice. He waited for a moment, listening for a confirmation. “Alice? Ya in there?” Slowly opening the door, he poked his head inside.

The bed was unmade, and several cabinets and drawers had been flung open. Odd, considering Alice was usually halfway tidy, unlike a certain other Apple who would remain nameless. He decided to quickly look for her.

Don’t panic yet, he repeated to himself, checking the bathroom, Jack’s room, the attic, and after a brief pause with his hand on the doorknob, Granny’s old room.

Nothing but dusty memories.

Macintosh returned to his room and picked up an old, outdated flip-phone. He dialed the number to the clubhouse on the edge of their land. The man remembered thinking how much of a waste putting a line there was when they first did. Nowadays though, there were just too many risks to not have a way to get in touch with his sister.

The line rang several times before Mac gave up. He swallowed, feeling worry sink into his stomach like a rock that got tossed into a lake.

Try her friends, he thought. Mac nodded at the idea and quickly punched his sausage-sized fingers along the buttons of the phone.

Two calls later, he had more questions than answers. Neither had said they had seen her, rather, they had simply been evasive when he talked to them. With that in mind, he tromped downstairs. A courtesy glance across the kitchen showcased his sister and her friends, but no Alice.

Macintosh looked over at Jack. “I can’t find Alice,” he bluntly said.

The blonde woman snorted, stuffing a large bite of her pancake into her mouth. “Well, she is that age, Mac.”

“Yeah,” Dash agreed with a yawn as she played with a strand of her hair. “Hell, when I was her age, I’d be out all night climbing roofs and shit. Girl’s probably just out with some friends.” Her smirk widened. “Or maybe with a boy.”

“Or a girl,” Pinkie added. Isabelle gave a casual shrug, suggesting it was a possibility. Mac had his doubts. Alice didn’t seem the type.

Then again, neither had Jack.

“Ya really think...?” Mac trailed off. He didn’t mind it, but he really didn’t want to think about the family baby being with someone right now.

Chylene coughed quietly, her gentle demeanor drawing Mac’s attention instantly. “I’m sure she’s just with Stephanie and Sarah, in their clubhouse.”

He shook his head. “Nope, checked there. Called their homes, too.”

“What about Sweet Tooth Lane? Maybe she went ta get a milkshake?” Jack offered.

“I can go check there! I have to look after the twins anyways!” Pinkie announced, nodding her head so quick her bangs bounced everywhere.

“Or hell, the library even.” The farmer glanced over at Twila. “You got an assistant workin’ it today, right? Maybe she’s there gettin’ a book on somethin’--she’s a bigger reader than the rest of the family.”

“I’ll go give him a call, be right back,” Twila said, leaving to the other room.

Mac bit his lip, wringing his hands as he stood about, deep in thought. He was snapped out of it by a hand resting on one of his powerful arms.

“Go ta the livin’ room. Sit,” Jack said, briefly locking glances with him.

Mac frowned. “But--”

“Jus’ do it,” Jack sharply countered, giving his back a hard slap. Mac nodded and took a few slow steps into the living room.

He ignored the television for now and moved over to his favorite recliner. The tanned man had used it so often that the cushion might as well be molded to his butt. Before he could sit, he noticed a hastily written note resting on a countertop nearby. He picked it up.

Guys;

I’m sorry. I can’t just sit around anymore. I’ve gotta help. I promise I’ll be back with Luna before you know it.

Love you all.
-Alice

His pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he read the simple message over and over. Finally, he managed to let out a loud bellow.

“Jack!” he cried out, “Get yer fuckin’ ass in here!”

Separate Ways

The rain came down in large, nearly painful drops. He was thankful it was at least warm. It seemed to vary by the hour, almost. Rain came all but daily, but it could be uncomfortably wet and humid or biting cold at a moment’s notice. The Ghost Rim’s reputation as a sailor’s worst nightmare was more than just rock and reef, with sudden thundersnow storms and gale force, mast-breaking winds unpredictably common.

The rainfall, combined with the thick, overgrown foliage, made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet. The keyword being ‘nearly’.

He was trained for ‘nearly impossible’. Trained to make it possible, at a moment’s notice. Raising the rifle sights to his eye, he moved slowly, scanning left to right. It wasn’t finding the enemy, no, that wasn’t the real trick. There was only the enemy and himself. So all he had to watch for was movement.

There, he thought, noticing a dark splotch in the distance as he pulled the trigger, aiming at the relative spot of a human’s head.

The retort was muffled by the sound of the rain, but his eyes stung with the flash as the gun fired. He was rewarded by the falling of the splotch. Unmoving, he watched carefully--his target didn’t rise.

Breathing out, he lowered his rifle, chambering a new round. There had been only the one hostile. Now that it was neutralized, he could relax and go on back to camp.

Yet, his shoulders itched. It was a silly superstition, but he’d not been wrong quite yet... Raising the rifle again, he repeated his sweep. This was their shield, their armor. If the perimeter had even one weak spot, it could mean the end of them all. And he wasn’t prepared to let that go for anything, not even the Rim’s vengeful weather.

It wasn’t on the first, or even fifth, sweep, but he caught more movement. What were these pirates thinking? They’d been here for just a few months, and not once had the enemy managed to mount a successful assault. Again, he held his breath for a second as he pulled the trigger, dispatching the second scout.

“Aegis, copy,” came a broken voice from the radio at his shoulder. “Hearth here, Aegis, please copy.”

Letting out the breath in a tired sigh, he put a hand to the radio in his ear in an attempt to cover the noise of the rain.

“Aegis copies,” he replied, mentally scoffing at the name. “Go ahead, Hearth.”

“You’re late coming in, the Lady wants a report.”

“I’m done here, but there were two scouts, not one. I’m going to do a few more sweeps, reset the traps, then I’ll return. Aegis out.” That last he growled out, turning off the radio as he did. He slung his rifle across his back and leapt from the raised platform they had built in the tree.

It had become such a routine now. One shift in the morning, one shift in the evening, alternating with the eight hard points surrounding their camp. He had lost track of how many pirates he had dispatched. More than he cared for.

Something had to change. Though they scavenged what they could off the dead, supplies were at a premium for his men. They’d lucked out in finding their current shelter--it was decently defendable, with clean water and fish. That nearly turned his stomach; he hated fish.

Reaching the first corpse, he saw his shot had landed in the throat. The man’s hands were bloody--he had clawed at the wound in his death throes. Dismissing it, he did a quick rifling through the man’s clothes. His find was typical: an old pistol, this one he recognized as an old Walther TP, with a couple spare clips but predictably no gloves to soften usage, and an unrecognizable short-barrelled shotgun that was clearly custom made. He threw it all in his carrier bag, then went to find the next corpse.

He was thoroughly soaked at this point--the stand having something of a canopy to lessen the rain--so he double timed it. The next had fallen in the foliage, so he grabbed the man’s belt and heaved him back easily enough. Almost immediately, he drew his own pistol and began scanning around him. What he saw he hadn’t expected at all.

His shot was clear--it had merely taken the man in the shoulder. Potentially debilitating considering the rounds fired by his Lee-Enfield, but hardly lethal. But the man was dead, his throat cut cleanly. Any weapons or ammunition he had had on him had already been stripped.

Whoever had done it had done it quickly. He estimated it had only taken him about three minutes to loot the other pirate and find this body. They would still be nearby.

His shoulders itched. Gripping the pistol, he turned quickly, calling out, “Stop!”

There was nothing, not at first. But he kept on, never wavering. Waiting, watching. For anything, for everything.

A small rustle of the brush, just to his right. He turned his gun and almost fired. But he paused.

Blue. Blue, blue eyes watched him through the green. They shone, shadowed under the brow of a heavy leather hood, observing his every action. He did not fire, he stared back. Stared at eyes that showed no malice or vengeance, but holding him in curious, indifferent regard, reminding him of a cat’s eyes.

The spell was broken by a loud cry of, “Captain!” from behind him in the distance. Despite himself, he turned. Cursing, he turned back. The trees and the brush were all that met his gaze.

He lowered the pistol, his thoughts a rush. Had it been another pirate? Though some of the smarter ones had been working together to try and capture the princess, most had no qualms about slaughtering each other just as quickly as they would he and his men.

But the cut to the throat had been clean, quick and painless. That didn’t sound like any pirates he knew.

“Blue Eyes... Who are you?” he asked, holstering his weapon.

“Captain! Captain!” came the cry again, closer. It was a different voice. They had sent a search party.

He sighed and started back. Luna was furious with him, if she sent out men to find him.

Crossing into the perimeter beyond his stand, two of his men broke through the brush--one, a shorter, stockier fellow, falling to the ground in the process. The other, a tall, lanky young man, stopped and gave a crisp salute. Noticing his comrade, he said, “Get up, stupid--it’s the Captain!”

The other soldier tried to scramble to his feet, but he slipped in the mud and fell again.

“At ease, men,” he said, holding up a hand to placate them. “She sent you, I take it?”

Nodding enthusiastically, causing his teal hair to bob up and down with him, the man still on his feet replied, “Yes, Captain. She, uh, didn’t exactly like your report.”

He’d moved to help the other man get up. Giving the worried looking grunt a pat on the shoulder, he asked, offhandedly, “What was it this time? Spit and roasted alive? Tied up to three different trees by my fingers alone?”

Swallowing, the shorter said, “Replacing the quartermaster’s broken anvil for a week.”

He laughed. “Oh good, she’s not that mad, boys.” It was true, the pair were barely old enough to join. He hated that this had ended up their first ‘assignment’, worse the fact it had been him who had allowed their joining. He clapped an arm around both of them, saying, “Let’s get back out of the wet. The men will enjoy the lashing I get, and I’m interested in seeing what Marls did with those spindly, little squid things we found yesterday.”

“But, Captain--” started the taller man.

“What’d I say? Just call me Lew, OK?” His expression turned glum as he took in their surroundings. The rain was finally showing signs of letting up. Would tomorrow bring snow? He hoped for good weather, at least long enough to dry his clothes. “Little need for decorum out here, I think.”

As they headed back, he quickly turned the conversation to the usual soldier’s fare, ridiculous, overly masculine stories, the call for good food, the hope for pleasant, soft company. Lew was worried--not only were the pirates beginning to send out more scouts at once, but they had a mysterious assassin in their midsts. But a good captain kept his men at ease, no matter how ill his own was beginning to turn.

Though he had wanted something, anything, to change for several weeks, he was beginning to worry he might just get it.

000

Macintosh checked her usual haunts along with the others; the sweets shop, the school, the library. Nothing. Girl up and vanished like a ghost. His stomach hurt--had ever since he and the girls had agreed to look through the town. He walked across the gravel parking lot to his pickup truck after checking the movie-rental shop and adding another failure to his resume. He got in the rusting piece of work, slamming the door shut. His bulky frame took a moment to adjust to the cramped interior. Once it did, he leaned his head back and scrunched his eyes tight.

Mac couldn’t believe this. The baby of the family was gone. In between him and six other girls looking through the sleepy town, there had been no stone unchecked. Hell, he had a feeling Dash had probably even looked in the sewer system and, still, nothing.

He looked over his phone. No messages or calls. Girls came up dry too, he bet. Alice had skipped town already--it was too little too late on their search. Mac shook his head with disgust and reached over to the worn and torn passenger's seat, and the note he had tossed over there before everyone had shot out of the house. He looked at Alice’s uneven, sprawling handwriting, running a finger over a few of the words as he pondered his options.

Hell, there were no options, save for one. He wouldn’t be able to sleep right again if he didn’t do what he had to. With that in mind, Mac fired up the ignition and headed home to get ready.

000

Macintosh drove home as fast as his beat up truck could handle. As he pulled up the dirt driveway and walked past the young persimmon tree out front, he could hear a voice all the way from outside.

“You... Goddamn... bitch!”

Mac froze briefly. Sounded like Jack was in one of her moods again. They didn’t come often and they died in pretty short order, but you were dumber than a sack of hammers if you stood in between the tornado and the barn it was heading for. A part of him briefly did an about-face, intending to head back to town until she cooled off. He was snapped out when another voice pierced through where he stood.

“Fuckin’ hit me then!” Isabelle shouted from inside. “I know you wanna, so do it! Take the Goddamn swing!”

That got Mac’s feet moving. Jack might shout you deaf when she was pissed, but she’d never hurt a fly--Isabelle had proven that time and time again; the girls were great at pushing one-another’s buttons. With that in mind, Mac made a brisk walk to the door, just as Dash cried out “Do it!”

He made his way through the kitchen and stopped at the archway leading into the living room. There, alongside her friends, was Jack, weeping openly alongside Isabelle.

Twila gave a small, nervous swallow at the scene, then glanced the blond man’s way. “Hi, Mac.”

Mac might not have been a well-educated fellow, but he knew the root of this problem without even so much of a thought, and what he had to do to fix it; to fix all of it. He swallowed his emotions and said in his taciturn, mellow way: “I’ll find her. Don’t y’all worry.”

“Mac...” Isabelle trailed off, looking behind her at the giant of a man.

“Izzy. Take care of my sister,” he said, turning to head down the hall. “I’m gonna go pack.”

“Pack? Mac, for all we know, Alice is actually on her way to the Ghost Rim! Do you know what that means?” asked Twila.

Macintosh shrugged indifferently. “It means I’ll need some money fer a train ride.”

“But you-- It’s dan--” Twila sputtered from the other room. Mac heard the sound of quick footsteps crossing the living room and coming into the dining area. He felt a tug at his shirt and turned, looking at the scholarly woman and the desperate gaze she held. “...My brother is down there, Mac. If...if you make it that far... Could you...?” She trailed off, her silence saying everything.

“I’m hopin’ nobody’s that damn foolish; lettin’ a girl like Alice near a place like that. But if she is there...” He put a strong, calloused hand on her shoulder and slowly nodded once in agreement. “God willin’, I’ll find him fer ya.”

She smiled, tears welling in her eyes. Raising up on tiptoes, she tried to kiss him on the cheek, but managed more of his lower jaw. “You’re too tall for your own good.”

“Heard that since I was ‘bout fourteen.” He gently smiled at the woman. Hell, just about his entire family on his dad’s side was too tall--even Alice was a bit of a bean sprout compared to the girls she spent most of her time with.

She laughed. “You haven’t met Lew. You’ll get along, I think.” Mac noticed Twila’s quick look over to Jack. Her voice changed to a whisper, “You better talk to her some more, Mac. You know how she’s feeling as well as I do.”

Macintosh blanched. “I...” He scratched at the back of his head in thought. “I know. Jus’... I ain’t good at that. Normally I let her come ta me if she needs ta...”

“I know,” Twila said. “But right now she needs you, Mac. Her big brother.” She gave a nod, then went back into the living room, checking up on Chylene.

Mac made a small grunt of acknowledgement. He was the man of the household, and sometimes a man had to do shit he didn’t like. He turned and peaked into the room. “Come here, Jack.”

Jack choked out a sob and complacently walked across the room, weakly joining the man out in the hallway. He guided her upstairs to his room. The man sat Jack down at the foot of his bed, then joined her, his elbows resting on his knees as he slouched forward, waiting for his sister to open up.

Jack focused on a stain above her, where water damage from a leaky roof left a brown halo in the off-white ceiling. The woman sniffed hard. “Mac... she stabbed me in the back.” Jack scowled. “She stabbed all of us in the back.”

Mac glanced toward his sister, then returned his gaze straight ahead. “Come on now. Ya don’t really think that.”

“Well what else would you call this?! She wanted ta leave Alice behind!”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’d call it havin’ ta make a hard choice--she’s gotta look at the big picture on this.” He sighed, adjusting himself on the creaking bed. “Ain’t much point of savin’ the girl if ya don’t save where the girl lives, ya know?”

Jack scowled. “Yer on her side too?! Goddamnit, Mac! I--”

“This ain’t about takin’ sides, Jack. This is about a girl we all love goin’ missin’, and none of ya able ta look for her.” He pointed a thumb at his chest. “I’m here, so I’m lookin’ fer ya. ‘Bout time I do somethin’ while yer stickin’ yer neck out on the choppin’ block.”

The woman’s anger briefly sputtered out. “Mac, ya do plenty. Don’t think any other way.”

“Plenty? Like watch my sister risk her life, an’ not even have the balls ta hear the whole story on what y’all are doin’ out there?” he bluntly asked, then raised his hand to silence his sister’s protest. “Nah. It’s the truth.” Macintosh wrung his hands, then briefly glanced Jack’s way. “I should be doin’ this stuff, not you, Jack. That bullet wound says it all.”

He rose, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Let me do the dangerous job this time. I’ll get her back. You can count on me.” The man adjusted his button-up shirt. “Jus’ get some rest, ok? I’mma pack an’ swap Izzy’s GPS fer a sec;’ get an idea on where I need ta go.”

Jack swallowed. “Y-yeah.”

Macintosh turned to walk out the door.

“Mac?”

He stopped.

“...Be careful. I ain’t sure what I’d do if...”

He nodded. “Same ta you, Jack, alright?”

The head of the Apple clan wandered the house for a few precious moments, loading a satchel with a spare set of clothes fresh from the wash, some canned goods, a few bottles of water, and a roll of warped and crinkled twenties from the hidden safe in the living room. He fleetingly frowned at the thought of touching the blood money, but let it pass like vapor in the air. Once he hid the safe behind a picture of his dad, he went to Jack and Dash’s room to find the athlete's GPS.

He wasn’t surprised Isabelle wasn’t in their room--girl tended to run off after spats, after all.

He searched the table by the bedside where Dash kept some of her things and finally saw a small flat screen. The farmer muttered, looking along the sides for a power button. Finding it, he pressed the switch on. The tablet sparked to life, showing a backdrop picture of Jack that Macintosh would rather forget. He looked over the small icons once they loaded, finally selecting one simply called ‘maps.’

There wasn’t much information on the Ghost Rim--he doubted there would be. Rather, he looked for anything north of them. Islands, oil refineries, boat docks. The man made a note of them, deciding to look at what would have been Alice’s first leg of the journey.

Well, he could eliminate any destination involving driving. So that left the trainway. It had been years since Mac had rode the trackways, but he remembered that there was a route to Gaingridge--one of the more southern port towns. Maybe she...

He tapped a finger at the town, then traced an imaginary line south. His finger crossed a small island that he had noticed during the first part of his investigation.

“Misemo,” the blonde said. It was his best chance--it was the closest island to the mainland, and, despite it being small, it was apparently a popular haunt for seafarers. Was she hoping someone would take her south? “Hold on, Al. I’m comin’.” He turned off the power to the tablet and grabbed his satchel. Mac didn’t say goodbye to Jack on the way out--would be easier this way.

Tossing the supplies into his truck, he started the motor. Just as he prepared to leave, a thought struck him.

Down south was dangerous. Very dangerous. He wasn’t keen on fighting, but he wasn’t no fool either. He kept the truck running as he made his way down to the Hub.

Dash sat at one of the tables reassembling a handgun. She eyed the sights, mute and thoughtful as she took a level nearby and made sure everything was aligned.

Mac didn’t say a word to her; he went to one of the boxes stuffed with guns on the lower levels and started to look through it. He set his sights on a fifty caliber handgun. Macintosh hoisted it up and looked it over. All clear. He went to another crate and opened it up, only briefly looking at the note taped to the top showcasing what ammunition caliber was where.

He grabbed four magazines for the semi-auto, feeding one into the gun and pocketing the rest. The giant of a man double checked that its safety was on, then tucked the thing into his jeans pocket.

Mac went upstairs, brushing past Dash, then paused. He knew that the woman must be feeling lower than a snake in a wagon rut right about now.

“Izzy,” he addressed. She looked up from her work. “If yer gonna take pictures of my sister in her undergarments, please don’t put ‘em as yer background.”

The athlete grinned, rubbing at her nose. “Heh. Think of it this way: you saw my tamest one. I got a ton of ‘em tucked away on that thing that--”

“I don’t even wanna know,” Macintosh replied. “Look,” he started. “Don’t get too pissed about Jack, alright? She, uh...”

Dash somberly nodded, her joking demeanor disappearing as quick as Mac’s did. “She’s got a temper and shit hit the fan. No big.” The two heard the sound of a toilet flush. Chylene entered, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“M-Mac?” the pink-haired girl said. “Are you r-really going to get Alice?”

“I’m the only one that can.”

Dash let out a breath and crossed her arms. “Goddamnit...” she said under her breath.

Mac adjusted his plaid shirt. “Jus’... jus’ take care of Jack. If somethin’ happens ta me...”

“Shut the fuck up, Mac,” Dash dismissed, returning to her gun. “We both know nothing’s gonna happen. You’re gonna bring the girl back.” She ran a delicate finger over her multi-hued hair and glanced over at Chylene. ”Swear, between you and that sister of yours, you’re all gonna fuckin’ worrywart me to death.” She wiped down the silencer of her pistol then started working on the trigger. “Now go get her.”

“G-good luck, Mac,” Chylene said quietly, looking down. “And come back to m--us, soon.”

He nodded, giving a small wave to the two as he left the Hub and started his journey.

Apprehension

Lew wiped the sweat from his brow; uselessly, as more took its place right away. Three days with not a drop of rain; only blistering, overbearing heat. He cursed his thick, baggy clothing--it was damned hot, but too useful a camouflage in the jungle. Still, he missed his uniform. Like so many things these past few months, the captain was forced into strange choices by hard circumstance.

First into seeking captaincy of princess Luna’s Royal Guard contingent to avoid the war path his Queen seemed determined to follow. Then their late night retreat, barely escaping the Queen’s so-called justice, which found them crammed into an aging warship, scrambling to learn the sailor’s profession in hours before they capsized or lost themselves to the endless seas. Now here in the Rim, fighting and avoiding pirates. Suffering this thrice-damned weather.

He spotted a large rock, looking all too inviting in a shaded copse. Taking a seat, he set his rifle down and started rustling in his bag, pulling out his canteen. He drank sparingly, though he wanted to down the whole thing. Pulling off the long, ragged cloth that served as both hat and scarf, he poured just a little of his precious water along it. Back to his bag went the canteen as he rose, sliding the mostly green wrap back over his sweat-soaked blue hair.

It had been a handy find, that. Apparently it had once been a long strip of banner cloth, hung along the ship’s sides during celebratory tours. Elondrie knew when it had seen the sun last. They hadn’t found much in the cargo hold of the Runabout, but that and a few other old bits of cloth--old sailcloth, other ratty banners, and used uniforms--he’d worked into a simple but effective camouflage outfit. Lew had been rather pleased with his work. His princess had laughed for the better part of an hour.

Coming back to the matter at hand, he checked his mental map. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was probably about three miles from their camp. With such clear weather, Lew had insisted he be allowed to properly scout. Find the pirates and measure their actual capabilities. Luna hadn’t liked it, but she was becoming just as antsy turtling as he was. They needed to start working out a way to leave, soon.

But that meant finding a way around or through at least a dozen different pirate crews, some with multiple ships. It wasn’t a very good prospect, but Lew was determined. It was his duty, and he was determined to never fail again.

That pushed him stronger, still. He still hadn’t given up that he had failed in his other, just as important duty. Not yet.

Pushing against the small lump at his chest, he closed his eyes and remembered a strong laugh--at him, most times--paired with deep purple eyes; the scent of lilac and winter rose he caught face deep in soft multi-hued hair; the warmth and love of naked nights, limbs intertwined as the words whispered between their hearts.

“I love you, Cadence,” he whispered softly, his chest aching. Somehow, he knew her safe. But for how long? Every day that passed made it harder to sleep, harder to focus. And that was dangerous.

A crack of splintering wood followed by a dim thump told him just how dangerous it was. Hefting his rifle, he sprinted through the brush he’d cleared early that morning. Though he fully intended to scout out the pirates, his primary reason for being so far from camp was to try and lure out their mysterious, blue-eyed assassin. He hadn’t told Luna that, of course. She’d never have allowed it.

But those eyes had almost haunted him, replacing his usual dreams of Cadance. They taunted him, promised him, called him. Something in them was going to change his soldiers’ situation, if only he could make them tell. So he had set about it, as he set about anything that needed to be done.

Before the sun had risen, he had made his way to a particularly overgrown tract of jungle. He’d gone about setting various traps in a circuitous route--one that would seem like he was just lost, rather than intentionally walking a circle for hours. Assassins often prided themselves on being the predators stalking their prey; Lew smirked as he ran, a confident alpha having turned the game on its head.

He stopped a dozen steps away from his pit trap. Looking up, he saw the broken branch he’d cut through halfway. Snapped, it pointed almost accusingly into the pit below. Raising his rifle, he crouched and approached one small step at a time.

Just as he was close enough to see the bottom if he stood tall, he grabbed a nearby stone and threw it to the opposite side of the hole. It made a small crash. Hoping his target had been distracted by the noise, he rose, aiming down, eyes ready to find a weapon to shoot away.

The pit was empty.

“Damn!” he said, crouching again and looking to the forest surrounding him. How? How?! He was baffled--no one could get out of that pit, at least not in the time he had allowed. Suddenly he felt vulnerable. He’d chosen this spot for it’s relative lack of undergrowth, which suited well for his trap. But it suited just as well for his trap to be turned against him.

A loud, hearty laugh echoed from the trees, and he heard the racket of someone running through the brush. Knowing it was foolish, he took off, fast as he dared. Though it still slowed him down, he had become somewhat adept at avoiding the rock and twisting roots that could easily catch a foot, breaking an ankle and bringing the runner down.

His quarry seemed no worse the wear, gaining ground twice as fast as Lew managed. Laughing, still. Lew had no idea how he managed that. He was taking as deep of breaths as he could, and still his sides began to burn.

Logically, he knew he must be headed straight for a trap. But something about this bothered him. Not his itch, that wasn’t it. Something about this whole situation just felt...harmless, in a way. More a game than combat. And that made him curious. While he didn’t have his sister’s insatiable thirst for knowledge and talent for learning, most Shields still possessed a strong sense of the curious. So, despite his mind screaming at him to stop, he pressed on, grinning through his exhaustion.

They must have been running for twenty minutes before he caught his first sign of his target. He was little more than a blue between trees, caught only every minute or so. If Lew didn’t know any better--and he damn well did--he’d have said the runner was holding back, making sure Lew followed him.

By Elondrie, If he wants to be followed, then I’ll follow, he thought, throwing a bit of caution to the wind and picking up the pace.

Later, he’d realized his first mistake had been not paying attention to where he was being led to from the start. But at the time, he felt his only mistake was speeding up.

Whatever the reason, when his foot landed in his own snare, he heard a loud pop, then his vision swam in color as the thick vine pulled him up and tumbling over, leaving him staring in confusion at his rifle on the ground. He was vaguely aware that it had discharged, but he couldn’t tell if he’d shot himself or not.

Swinging lightly back and forth, he growled out a string of obscenities. His own damned trap. How could he be so green? But that led to another thought.

Had it been on purpose?

He heard another low laugh, followed by a woman speaking in an unusual, heavily accented dialect. “Indeed it is a strange thing I saw--a panther bested by his own maw.”

He turned as best he could to see the source of the strange voice. Ahead, Lew saw a figure emerge from the treeline. It was a woman with ebony skin and symmetrical, white-lined scars flowing down her arms, legs and face. She brushed her snow-colored bangs behind her ears and furrowed her brows as she stepped forward, clutching the hilt of a knife she had at her side in a makeshift sheath. “Speak loudly, child, don’t be coy. What are you doing here, boy?”

Good intentions

"We are now at Gaingridge, the last stop on this route. Please, collect your belongings and disembark the train. Thank you for travelling with us.”

The monotonous voice of a woman--who’d clearly only been paid for an hour or two of voiceover work--woke Alice up from her sleep. Rubbing her eyes, she got her belongings and quickly stepped off the train, as did many other passengers aboard the carriage. The station was definitely more packed than any she had seen before, with all types of people walking about the station platforms.

As soon as she got outside, Alice was hit by a wave of humidity. She had read that the South of Torani was quite tropical, but she’d never expected it to be just this hot. She felt an itch at her hand and she looked down to see that a pesky mosquito had landed on her skin. Frowning, she gave it a quick swat and shook it off. Her body pest free, she began to head for the exit, groaning with contempt; she’d probably face a lot more pests in the near future.

She parted with her ticket, the ticket machine gobbling it up and allowing her to pass through. Sneaking through the busy crowd, she headed through the glass doors to face Gaingridge proper. And what a sight it was.

Clearly she was on top of a hill, as she could see most of the town down below her. Tropical plants, greener than what she was used to back home, were scattered all over, growing between rustic looking buildings. Far ahead of her was the ocean, looking blue and endless. Up above in the sky, birds flew and chattered to each other, making calls that Alice had never heard before. Peering into the distance, she could just make out a marketplace, hundreds of people shuffling between wooden stalls full of goods. Just beyond that was the port, various boats anchored, waiting to be taken across the high seas. That’s where she needed to go.

Quickening her steps, she set off down the road. She wiped her brow, it becoming sweaty rather quickly; she’d have to change into something more suitable later. The heat did remind her of something else though: hydration. Jack always said that was vital, especially when working a long day at the farm. Alice slung the backpack in front of her, opening it up as she walked and getting out a bottle full of fresh water. She forced herself to drink only a fair amount, knowing that she’d have to conserve it.

Just as the bottle parted from her lips, Alice felt a whoosh of wind next to her.

“Watch it kid!” shouted a speeding passerby on a bike, pedalling down the hill with a frantic speed. Alice huffed, refraining from shouting back at a stranger. He was the one that should’ve been watching where he was going, not her. And he wasn’t wearing a helmet! Even Scoots wore one when she did her fancy tricks.

Alice smiled, remembering the time Scoots built her own stunt ramp for her scooter. It was impressive but the landing was... less so. At least she only got band aids and not casts.

The farm girl quickly shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. As nice as they were, she couldn’t let old memories of home slow her down. She had to keep on trucking.

Bottle back in her bag, Alice continued going forward. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, Alice knew where she was going: she needed to get a boat to the island port of Misemo. As far as she was aware, that was the closest settlement to the Ghost Rim. Getting on a boat, however, might not be so simple.

Alice was so focused on the boats floating on the sea, she barely paid attention to anything else. There were so many, all of different shapes, sizes and colors. Which one would she be on...

The manic barking of a wild beast snapped her out of her focus. Alice quickly looked to her right to see a massive rottweiler yapping wildly at her, showing the girl all of its sharp canines. She yelped in fright, stumbling as she backed away from the animal. Luckily, she didn’t need to fear for her life; the dog was on a chain and behind a metal fence. Those things didn’t stop Alice from briskly getting out of the dog’s sight though, her heart beating so rapidly it could’ve leapt out of her chest and fled towards the ocean.

Soon enough, she came to a t-junction. The left went towards the marketplace, while the right would have taken her to some more houses. Alice looked both ways down the road, watching a white pickup drive past, before crossing the road and heading towards the market. It would probably be interesting to see what things were for sale anyway.

It wasn’t long before she was lost in the hustle and bustle of the large crowd. She squeezed past sweaty passersby, gagging at the stench some of them possessed. The crowd was so big and she so little, she quickly got disorientated and lost. Bursting forth from between two big men, she nearly crashed into a stall. Looking up, she saw, and smelled, meat of all sorts. Some were hanging from hooks and others stacked neatly on the stall itself. Some were dripping with blood.

“Well hello there, little girl! You look like you need something to put some meat on your bones!” came the hearty voice of a large gentleman running the stall. He was the biggest person Alice had ever seen in her life--even bigger than Mac. A lot fatter too. He wore a white apron, covered in grease and blood, and gave Alice a grin that seemed genuine enough.

“Uh...sorry sir, but I was just lookin’ for a ship to Misemo,” Alice replied politely.

“Misemo?” The fat butcher burst into a fit of laughter. “You must be kidding me! Come now, instead of buying a ticket to an island of scum and villainy, fill yourself up with my delicious meats!”

Alice shook her head. This market may have looked a lot different to the one back home, but she knew the same principles still applied. This guy was clearly trying to bargain with her and it wasn’t going to work. “If ya ain’t gonna tell me, then I’m clearly wastin’ ma time.”

“Slow down!” the man cried, holding up his hands, indicating Alice to stop. He leaned closer to Alice, lowering his voice. “Listen, kid, I can tell you’re not from around here. You look far too delicate and, let me tell you, the crooks in Misemo would crush you like you was nothing. Go back home.” He smirked, grabbing a nice chicken leg and holding it in front of Alice. “And take one of my goods for the journey back home, eh?”

Alice pushed the leg away. “Ya wouldn’t understand. I need to do this.”

The fat man shrugged, putting the chicken leg back. “And you don’t fully understand what you’re getting into, little girl. But if you’re not going to buy from me then the best I can do is wish you good luck.” The butcher then turned his attention to the crowd and yelled, “Meats! Get your fresh, scrumptious meats right here!”

Eventually Alice escaped the busy market, going down some steps and along a cobblestone path towards the docks. Ahead, she could see the outline of a man lazily reclined in a folding chair, one hand barely holding onto his fishing line, the other limply laying at his lap Even from where she stood, she could overhear his low humming as he stared out into the water.

Alice couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. She’d been fishing before with Jack, and she was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be many fish in these waters. You’d have to go far out in order to get anything good.

“I don’t think you’ll catch anythin’ here, mister,” Alice said, approaching the fisherman. He stopped humming, briefly surprised at someone approaching. On seeing it was a girl, his aged and lined face broke out into a kind smile.

“Perhaps not this late in the day, little miss. Earlier though?” he chuckled. “Earlier you woulda thought different. Motors scare the young fish away. That just leaves the big troublemakers floating around like they own the place.” He reached to the side of his chair, away from Alice’s view. “Would you like a soda?”

“Ma sis said not to take anythin’ from strangers,” Alice replied. The offer did sound tempting though...

“Your sister’s a smart gal,” he agreed, coming back up with two cans of root beer. “You’ll have to forgive me--I thought you were a local. ‘Bout all who come talk to me are.” He opened one of the cans and took a drink. Finally, he gave a polite nod. “Name’s Hans. Might I ask for yours, little miss?”

“Alice Bloom Apple,” Alice answered, returning the gesture.

“A lovely name for a lovely little girl.” He returned his gaze to the waters. “So... if you’re not a local, Miss Apple, what are you doing here? On vacation with your kin?”

Alice gave Hans a sweet smile and proceeded to tell a lie, “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

The fisherman took another sip of root beer, then wiped his dark features with the back of his hand. “Well, you’ve picked a good day for it. Weather’s perfect--I’ve seen people comin’ and going all on boats all day today. And that’s saying something, me living by the oceanside.” He smiled at his own joke and lazily gave his rod a small twist on his fishing line, bringing the bait a few inches closer.

“Huh...” Alice began to sway on her feet. “So er... any boats going to places like... eeer... Misemo?”

His hands stopped turning the crank for his fishing line. He glanced back to the young girl. “That seems like a very specific spot to ask about, Miss Apple,” the old man replied, taking another drink of his root beer.

Alice shrugged. “Jus’ sounds like a cool place to be.”

Hans seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “I couldn’t suggest a young child such as yourself to go there. Because while there may be some good men and women just stopping or living there for the right reasons, there are a dozen others that are nothing but cutthroats, pirates and slavers. Maybe just common thieves, if you’re lucky.”

“I could avoid ‘em,” Alice said, before hastily adding, “If I was to go anyway.”

He scratched at his jaw. “‘If you’re wanting to go there, I’d need a good reason. Aside from it sounding ‘cool,’ Miss Apple.”

Alice quickly racked her brain for a decent sounding excuse. “Uh... because... I’m meeting my folks there before we take another boat from there!”

“What are your folks doing at Misemo?” he once again questioned the girl, then casually took another drink of his root beer.

“Er, I got an uncle there. So they’re vistin’ him.” Alice nodded rapidly and clasped her hands behind her back, fairly sure that her plan was working.

“Surprised your folks didn’t tell you what boat to take, then,” he answered observantly.

Alice fiddled with her overalls, saying, “I kinda tuned out when they talked about it... heh...”

He gave a long pause of consideration. He threw her the other can of soda, which she only just caught. He wryly smiled. “Since we’re not strangers anymore, Miss Apple. You find yourself a ship called the Esther. Its captain is a Mister Jaffery. He’ll take care of you.” Hans returned his gaze to the water. “Though you should work on your lying technique, if you intend to stay on ‘vacation’ in Misemo for a long time. I’ve never seen anyone as antsy fibbing as you, Miss Apple.”

Alice’s face went a light red. “I must have gotten that from my sis...” she explained, letting out an awkward laugh. “I better get going then.” She smiled, the color in her face returning to normal. “Thanks, Hans. Good luck with yer fishin’.”

“Take care,” the old man replied. “I mean it,” he added under his breath.

Alice gave Hans a wave before leaving him behind, biting her lip as she thought over his last words. Misemo couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She inspected each boat she passed, looking for a name on every one. Some of the boats were grand, probably owned by some rich family. Others were... well, the best thing that could be said about some was that they were only half covered in barnacles. When she found it, she saw that the Esther was a mix of both.

The ship clearly had been grand during its heyday. Now, however, the vessel seemed to be a ghost in limbo, full of rustic charm, technological advance, and contradictions. While it seemed to be modeled after a small, wind-powered merchant ship from the 18th century, the large engine at its stern told the truth of the kind of ship it was. Directly above the obviously modern engine was a set of letters spelling the ship’s name, all surrounded with chips and dings. At starboard bow was a man dressed in the classical getup of a pirate: an opened shirt, a saber at his side, and, most importantly, a frilled and triangulated hat. A trike something, Alice couldn’t quite recall.

Alice looked from the ship to the captain, utter confusion on her face. “Er... this is the Esther, right?”

He did a crisp about face, snapping his heels tight and spinning quickly to face Alice. “Indeed it is, ya scurvy dog! And whoabout’s be askin’?!

Alice couldn’t help but lean away from the man. “Alice Bloom Apple,” she answered simply.

“Alice Bloom Apple!” he repeated, then gestured his hand out in a sweeping motion towards the ocean.

“Yeah... that’s what I said.” Alice looked around. Nope. Nobody to help her here.

“Do ye thirst for adventure?! Long for the feel of the ocean under ye boots? Wish to do battle with a Kraken?! Then hop aboard the Esther! I’m in need of a good first mate to share me booty with!” He briefly paused, looking around the area and adjusting his eyepatch. “Are ye folks around? I’ll need their blessing before we can haul anchor!”

Alice rolled her eyes, muttering, “Seriously? Oh my God...” She then put on her best smile and sweetly said, “I’m meeting them at Misemo so we can see my uncle!”

The man seemed to stumble briefly at her exclamation. “M-Misemo? Yer folks be quite a ways out indeed if they are in Misemo!”

Alice flashed the captain a cheeky grin. “What was that about havin’ a ‘thirst for adventure’ then?”

He looked out towards the docks then back to her. He lifted his eyepatch up, showing both his baby blue eyes. “Look, kid,” he said in a far more subdued tone. “I’m a tour guide for those, you know, ‘wacky’ trip things kids love. We dig for treasure, fight a dude in a rubber costume--that kinda thing. Misemo’s full of actual pirates.”

“But Hans told me you’d take me there, Mister Jaffery,” Alice said assuredly, puffing out her chest slightly. “And I just gotta get there!”

He rubbed at his face. Well, he wasn’t exactly teeming with customers right now... “How much do you have?”

“How much do ya want?” Alice reached into her backpack, rummaging around for her dollars. She’d haggle her way through this one.

“Eighty dollar’s is the normal tour rate,” he promptly replied.

“I’m guessin’ ya want a bit more than that for this trip, right? How about eighty-three?” Alice got out some dollar notes, flicking through them like a deck of cards.

“Eighty-five. Gasoline,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Eighty-four,” Alice speedily replied, looking the captain square in the eyes.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Five!”

“Eighty-two!”

“Eighty-three. Wait, shit!”

“Deal!” Alice laughed triumphantly, planting eighty-three dollars into the captain’s palm before striding aboard the vessel. “At least ya only lost a dollar. Could’ve been worse,” she offered.

“Don’t expect me to stick around. I’m dropping you off and turning back home,” Mister Jaffery said sullenly, walking to the large wheel of the ship. He pressed a button and the diesel engine rumbled to life.

Alice nodded, gripping the sides of the ship and looking out to sea. “Misemo can’t be that bad...right?” It was a question she had to ask, but she knew the answer would probably be one she’d regret hearing.

“It wasn’t, until a few months back.” He turned the wheel, getting them free from the docks and making their way into open water. “That’s when pirates started outnumbering the merchants, the fishermen, and the villagers. It was the oddest thing, just a group or two of ‘em came up from the Ghost Rim and started coming and going from Misemo just as fast as you please.” He opened a latch to his side and pressed a button. The ship started going on autopilot as he looked over a chart map. “Now they more or less call the shots. If you’re really going there to meet your folks, be careful.”

Alice gulped. It seemed that the only way to get to the Ghost Rim was with pirates. But she never expected this whole journey to be glamorous anyway. “Yeah... yeah, I know. I can take care of mahself.”

Pact

His head still spinning some, Lew muttered the first thing that came to mind. “B-boy? I’m n-not a boy, damn it.” He closed his eyes, trying to focus. Opening them again, he adjusted for his vision being upside down and examined the trickster more closely.

He could see it was a woman, rather than the man he had suspected. Cadence would give me hell for that, he thought automatically. Her skin was dark--darker than any he had ever seen, and he had been around. He might’ve called her Somani, but she was far too small. More curious than that, white scars the width of a pen cascaded in horizontal streaks down her body, going from her face, past her bare--and well cut--torso, along down the one visible leg he could see under her blackened sarong.

She stood, one hand on the hilt of a knife, and the other briefly reaching to touch a pocket on the unzipped flack jacket she wore. Lewin briefly looked away when he noticed the only thing she wore to cover her sizable chest under the open jacket was a furred bra. She paid his brief distraction no mind, instead pulling out a small crinkled and warped package of gum from her vest--no doubt a prize from some conquest or another--and briefly chewed a piece as she looked at the royal guardsman.

“A man is not the one I see, if he fell into his own trap for me,” she replied in her thick accent, adjusting the belt she wore around the shoulder--Lew could see the tip of a primitive, but well-kept spear peaking out from behind her long, free-falling hair.

She’s got you there, he told himself. Now what, genius? “Uh... Who are you? What are you? Pirate?” he asked carefully.

“I assure you, I wish to see no blood on the sand. My tribe merely lives upon this land. The ones you slaughter without remorse--they’re a far cry from our course.”

That upset him. “Don’t judge me! I do what I have to--those men make their choice, and I get to live with the--” He cut off, his mind registering something. “Why--why are you speaking in rhyme?”

She wryly smiled, putting a thumb to the side of her narrow mouth in thought. “This tongue I speak is a foreign beast--I learned your language from a passing priest. My rhymes are a bridge between, and help to keep my sword-words keen.”

“That makes sense... I guess...” He chewed his lip, thoughtful. “A traveling priest? Of Elondrie? And you said Torani is foreign to you... Do you...” He almost couldn’t believe it. “You live here? Here? In the Rim?”

She nodded without hesitation. “My fathers and the ones before, had the ocean as a house and the islands as a door. The dirt upon here you stand, is where I reside with my own band.”

“But...” He couldn’t seem to find the right words--plus he was beginning to suffer from hanging upside so long. “L-look, can you get me down from here? It’s hard enough with your rhyming, but I’m starting to see spots.”

“If you are seeing spots, perhaps you should connect the dots,” she easily replied. With a fluid flick of her wrist, she unsheathed her knife and propelled it through the sky, cutting through the rope holding Lew up.

Before he could protest, Lew found himself falling with a cry of, “Dammit!” Luckily, he managed to shift his weight just in time, landing on his shoulder to go into a roll. While taking no injury, Lew still found the breath knocked out of him from the impact. He sat on the ground, heaving a couple of deep breaths. The strange woman simply stood, giving him an almost comical smile.

“Don-- Ugh, don’t look so... so amused,” he coughed out. “...and thanks.”

“Your thanks are not needed, my young friend.” She easily walked over, offering her palm. “Take my hand. Ascend.”

Taking the offered hand, Lew was surprised at the strength in the pull. He started dusting himself off, rearranging his holster and the sword at his belt. Looking up at the now severed rope, he remembered to bend down and remove the loop on his ankle. As he did so, he asked, “So, natives huh? That’s something else--no one from the mainland would ever suspect anyone lived here. Even the pirates just hide out, and then only the bravest.” He slid the small bit of rope into a side pouch. “Or the foolish.”

“The foolish and the brave go hand in hand. Together they fight--together they stand,” she cryptically replied, nodding.

He nodded slowly, unsure exactly what to say. He tapped his forehead with a palm, exclaiming, “I’m sorry! Uh, hi,” he said, offering a hand, “I’m Llewellyn Shields, Captain of the Royal Guard attached to princess Luna, of Torani. Just call me Lew, though. You are?”

“You learned your manners well.” She put a hand to her heart and briefly dipped her head down. “My father named me Zecora Zasamel.”

“Well, points for originality there, I suppose.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “You’ve been following me. And killing pirates. Why?”

“It surprises me you express shock. Is it so unnatural for a shepherd to tend to her flock?” she retorted, tilting her head. “The pirates have transgressed upon my land. It is no surprise I rise to make a stand.”

“That I certainly understand.” He thought for a moment. “But alone? There’s no one else to fight with you?”

“Our warriors are few and far between. The fighting falls upon their Queen.”

That made Lew raise his brow. “Queen, huh?” He laughed. “What’re the odds of that. I think princess Luna would enjoy meeting you, Zecora. You’d have a lot to talk about, I bet.”

“Perhaps we might, young Lew.” She briefly glanced at the rope trap he had failed to set on her and couldn’t help the small, sly smile that crossed the corner of her lips. “Tell me: is she a hunter too?”

“One of the best,” Lew said, simply but surely. He hadn’t really ever seen his princess in action until recently. Though he’d be reluctant to say so, she made the best knights of the realm look like green pages. He shivered--watching princess Luna, the Nightmare Knight herself, fight had chilled him. Quietly, he said, “She’s a terrible beauty to behold on the field.”

“A beauty in its own right--a man or woman who knows how to fight.”

“She certainly knows that.” He leaned against the nearby tree. “Well, Zecora, if you’re an enemy of the pirates, I’d like to consider you and your people friends to Torani. You’ve nothing to fear from us, I swear to you. On my honor as a knight.”

“An oath upon your honor? Quite bold.” She looked him over for a moment, gazing over his face. After a long, drawn-out pause, she nodded. “Very well--until proven otherwise, I will consider your words gold.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So, were you watching me to see if I was a threat to your people? Our camp as well, I assume?”

“Your homestead I watched with growing alarm, until I realized your people meant no harm.” Zecora gestured to the side, sweeping across the numerous trees lining the area. “The wandering seafarers battle your tribe. I saw your kin suffering and wish to keep them alive.” She stopped, looked over the man once more, sweeping his torso and arms with her piercing eyes. Moments before he spoke to break the silence that came between them, she quickly asked: “Have nerves reduced your appetite? Your armor is not fitting right.”

He blinked once. Then twice. Then he spoke, a little defensively, “It’s not easy surviving in lands you’ve never even dreamed of visiting, filled with plants and animals you can’t even begin to recognize.” He crossed his arms and stared hard at the ground. “Yeah, I’ve skipped a few meals. I can take it--but the men? They can’t know how low our supplies are starting to get. Not before I find a solution.”

Zecora walked past the knight, going to the trunk of the sturdy tree and retrieving the deeply embedded knife she tossed earlier to free him from his self-made prison. After wiping the blade along her sarong she turned, walking the other way. She gave a small, downward beckoning motion toward Lew.

A bit confused, he followed her lead. Though something told him he could trust her, he kept a ready hand for the pistol at his belt, just in case.

“Sated hunger for your people, safety for mine. Perhaps our destinies can intertwine.” She silently walked, treading along the undergrowth as if she were simply walking in a homestead. Without missing a beat, she began pointing at what seemed to be random plants with reckless abandon as they traveled. “Heartwreath for the injured hand, Gramsbeast to cure sore glands. Dimsleaf makes a tasty dish, Groomsweep is for a bug-bit itch.”

Lew took careful note of the look of them, though he’d have to work on the names later. Herbology was taught to all the knights and, now that he knew what did what, he could begin to see similarities to more familiar plants back home.

She pointed to a black-laced leaf with red, veiny lines running in its innerworkings. “That belongs to the Ravensgroan. Do not eat it if you wish to make it home.” She smiled, looking at a blue, rounded flower that seemed foreign amongst the flora of the ghost rim. “A Blue Maidenlife. It’s my people’s tradition to give one to future wives.”

Bending over, Lew examined the flower. It was one of the oddest, yet alluring, plants he’d ever seen. Carefully, he reached low to the ground, pulling the flower up by its root. He placed it in his satchel. “This is fascinating, and helpful, but here’s a real curious thing. Even after several weeks here, none of my scouts have seen much in the way of wildlife. Not counting those horrid things from the sea and the fish in the river we’ve camped at.” He shivered, remembering the cook’s disastrous last meal.

“Do not judge on looks, young Lew. The ocean beasts sate your hunger--they do.” She glanced across the dense jungle. “Quiet mouths and keen eyes, will be your most powerful allies.” With a point, she gestured to a toppled log about thirty feet away from them. “Over there is a lodge--the creature inside hides in camouflage.”

“What sort?” asked Lew, curious. “I’ve seen creatures that look like rocks or sticks, others that simply fade into the background, some that have distracting abilities to let them escape.”

“The beast inside the wooden den is a large lizard, my friend.” She began slowly creeping forward, lowering her voice as she continued to speak. “As for the creatures of rocks and sticks, they will keep you full--even if they taste like candle wicks.”

Crouching low just behind her, he followed. While he had become somewhat adept at moving silently, compared to Zecora he might as well been blowing a bugle as he moved. When Zecora came within ten feet of the log she reached behind her, arming herself with the spear she kept on her back. The ebony woman crouched low and tensed her legs. She snapped like a coiled spring, leaping forward and plunging her spear squarely into the log. There was a pig-like shriek, and the log shook and trembled briefly before remaining still. Zecora pulled out her bloody weapon and nodded. “The meat of a gulag sweet and filling. You will find none better, I am willing.” She reached inside without hesitation and pulled out a creature similar to a chameleon, save for the fact it was far larger--about the size of a dog, and had several barbs surrounding its torso. Its forked tongue hung limply out of its mouth and the creature’s rounded eyes gazed emptily to either side.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied, giving the thing a distrusting eye. But within he was excited. If Zecora could teach him and his men more about the island... They still needed to find a way off, a way home. But now they had time, something Lew desperately thought they lacked.

“I can’t thank you enough, Zecora,” he said solemnly. Then he gave a boyish smile and asked, “One more thing--any idea where the pirates are encamped?”

“They vary their location each passing day--where they are now? It’s hard to say.”

He gave a small grunt, then was silent for a moment. Shaking his head, he said, “Guess that was too much to hope for. We’ll worry about that a little later. Right now, I’m more interested in dinner.” He pointed to the lizard-like creature. “In the old stories my parents used to read to me, warriors would often share a kill to foster camaraderie. Shall we?” He smiled again. “Then tomorrow, let’s combine our skills and take the fight to the pirates. That’ll be by thanks to you.”

“Tomorrow we tackle different beasts. But tonight?” She returned his smile. “Tonight we feast.”

Jokingly, he asked, “You wouldn’t be able to spear up something a little harder than water, would you?”

Zecora threw her head back and laughed. “The fermented juice of the orange band... well, try it. It’s grand.” She reached into one of her vest pockets and tossed a small canteen Lew’s way.

He opened it and took a whiff--the scent was piercing, watering his eyes some, but faintly fruity. Raising it her way, he said, “To victory.” then took a large swig. He only hoped he wasn’t counting their chickens before they hatched.

Birds Of A Feather

They traveled the waters for hours--the captain nearly nodding off at the helm, while Alice sat at the edge of the ship, lost in her thoughts. She soon fell into a slumber herself, only waking up when she was violently shook.

“Time to go,” the captain ordered. Alice yawned and opened her eyes, getting up from the box she had been leaning against.

They were by a shoreline. The engine was still running, and the captain was all but lifting her up at this point. He gestured to their right, towards a small plume of smoke that rose past the shore, going deep into a line of trees in the distance. It drifted lazily in the afternoon air, blowing away from the two. “Make your way to that smoke trail. That’s where the town is. Don’t go anywhere else on the island. Straight there, you hear?”

“Gotcha,” Alice replied, slinging her bag on her back. She prepared to disembark, one leg hanging over the side of the ship. “Thanks, captain.” She gave him a small smile and a short wave before hopping off the edge of the ship and landing with a splash onto the shoreline below. He watched her take a few steps onto the sandy beaches, then was off, tearing like a bat out of hell.

Alice looked over her shoulder, watching him go for just a moment. In another scenario, she could have been with him and a couple other kids, hunting for ‘treasure’. The way the world worked sure was funny sometimes.

The path ahead went in between jungle trees and plants, and only a few wooden planks were laid out on the ground. The rest was sand and dirt. Alice assumed it led to town. It was better than carving her way through a mass of foliage anyway.

The sun was still high in the sky but was beginning to make its descent. Not that it mattered anyway; the jungle canopy blotted out most traces of sunlight. Parrots and even a monkey or two could be heard, making their cries all around Alice without being seen. Unknowingly to herself, Alice’s pace sped up just a little.

Eventually, she came to a clearing. Ahead, there were several ramshackle guard towers made out of the local flora that appeared to be unoccupied. Running from tower to tower was a fence, with several large holes punched into it. The path she was on lead to an opened gate, where three smaller buildings stood, lined with graffiti and trash. From the largest one on the right, she could hear music playing. The one in the center had a sign just above its doors in a language Alice couldn’t read--Kvaat, she thought? It had a block style and weird backwards lettering in it. She was pretty sure that’s what Kvaat’s wrote like. Lastly, the building to the left seemed to be apartments. Probably for the workers that had to fuel boats here.

Alice slipped through the gate. She wrinkled her nose; the port stunk of oil smoke and fish. A haze of smog even hung in the air, making everything look dark and cloudy. She kept close to the side of the largest building, listening in. There was definitely a rowdy rabble inside. Pirates...?

Whether they were or not, she’d need their help. Taking a few deep breaths, She closed her eyes and summoned all the courage she could before stepping out from the corner. The front of the building had a sign that said, ‘The Diamond Tiara’. An oddly named place for pirates to be. It reminded her of one of the children at school.

Hope this place doesn’t share her personality, she thought. What a total bitc--

The door suddenly swung open, a slim man flying through the opening. Alice quickly darted back around the corner, but kept an eye on the ongoing action. The man on the ground was clearly drunk, stumbling as he attempted to stand on two feet. From within, the roar of shouts could be heard, directed at the intoxicated pirate. Once he managed to get up, he flipped the bird at the others inside and received an empty bottle to the head for his efforts, which smashed and sent pieces of glass everywhere. Alice backed further away, behind the corner. A meaty thump told her all she needed to know: the poor sap had been knocked out cold. A chorus of laughter erupted from within, and the door slammed shut.

These were pirates alright.

Running a hand through her hair, Alice stepped back out into the open. She peered at the unconscious man, blood dripping from his head. A big part of her wanted to help him, but she knew that’d only attract attention. Plus, the guy was probably used to the rough life anyway. She gingerly walked around him and placed a trembling hand on the door knob.

“Three...two....one...go!” she whispered to herself, opening the door just enough to slip in quietly upon the final word.

The inside of the building was even more smoke-filled than the rest. Alice coughed, keeping to the walls for now, simply staring at the scene before her. At the back of the room was a bar, a gruff looking barman with a scruffy beard standing behind it, peering carefully at his patrons as he wiped at a milky glass. Hanging over the bar was an old box TV, showcasing a football match. Behind the barman was a catalogue of different drinks, all alcoholic. Some men stared longingly at the drinks, leaning against the bar table. Some were resting their heads on it, asleep in a drunken stupor.

One corner of the room was definitely designated for games. A dart board hung on the wall, two burly men competing against each other--though with knives, rather than the forgotten darts in the board. Nearby was a scroungy pool table, two other dirty looking men looking over, fat cigars in their mouths and cues in their hands. On the opposite corner was a door, possibly leading to the restrooms. Alice didn’t even want to imagine what those would be like.

Scattered across the room were several round, wooden tables. Most showed damage of some sort, showing rough finishes, hastily patched up legs, and graffiti galore. Pirates crowded around them, drinking from mugs and occasionally bursting into fits of laughter and shouts. Many would spill their drink to no notice or spit thickly at the ground. She noticed it was covered in sawdust, but was so dirty and sticky as to rival the worst movie theatre she’d ever been in. Alice didn’t want to approach anyone, she didn’t even want to move from where she stood.

Too bad that they did instead.

“Oi. What’s a lil’ girl like you doin’ in a place like this, eh?”

Alice gasped, looking to her right to see two muscular men standing side by side. They were grinning maliciously, their dirty teeth on full display.

“Y’know,” the one with a red bandana said, nudging the other’s shoulder, “she’d probably be worth a pretty penny in some places.”

The other man laughed, folding his arms. He had messy black hair that went down to his shoulders and was very greasy. In fact, all of him was. “Yeah. Doubt she’d last long, though. Everyone ‘ere would be too rough for her.”

The bandana pirate forcefully grabbed Alice’s arm, pulling her closer to himself. Alice struggled against him, but it was futile. She was pretty sure his iron grip was cutting off the blood supply to her hand. “Hah! Look at her! Arms like breadsticks!”

“Lemme feel.” The greasy one then grabbed Alice’s other arm, and the girl struggled even more. “So ‘ey are! I could break her arm right now, just by clenching me fist.”

“Let go of me!” Alice protested, trying her hardest not to scream and cause a commotion.

The bandana pirate looked at his mate, a twisted smile on his face. “‘Ey. Whaddya say we go take her to the alleyway and--”

His cheek was punctured by a dart. It sunk in, piercing his tongue. He turned to face his attacker, only to get another dart into his chin. He began to wail in agony and frustration, letting go of the girl to reach up and pull out the darts impaling his face, only for another to land into his hand.

“OK. That just keeps getting funnier,” a low woman’s voice said from near the dartboard. She gave one of the burly men playing a pat on his shoulder and stepped forward, towards the greasy pirate and his groaning friend. She was an odd sort for a place like this. For starters, she had the smug, aggressive posture of a leader. Her shoulders were thrown back, bare and muscular and primed for action, like a snake coiled to strike. Her toned chest puffed out in defiance of the two men she had set her hawk-eyes on. Clicking with a cold, calculating grace, her worn and muddy combat boots made their way across the floor. When she came within five feet of the men, she smugly stared up at them and briefly ran a finger under the neckline of her sleeveless shirt. “Odd choice for a plaything.” She sneered, her eyes still dangerous and wild. “I pegged you boys as the kind to suck each other off.”

The greasy man let go of Alice, who stumbled onto the floor. He turned to the newcomer, snarling. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?” He pointed at a door behind the bar table. “Kitchen’s that way, bitch.”

“You’re right,” she said, oozing fake cheer. “Be a dear--go in there and get me a beer. Tell them it’s for Gilda Almadia. They’ll put it on my tab.” She glanced around the bar. “Considering that they’re housing about a quarter of my men in here, after all.”

The man looked around, scoffing. “Bullshit.” He then clenched his fists and raised them, ready for a brawl. “Anyway, if a bitch talks smack, she’s gonna get a big ass whack.”

Surprisingly, she threw her head back and laughed hard at his statement; her grey hair shook as her shoulders bounced up and down at the motion.

“You sound like my second in command,” she explained. Before anyone could react to her words, her mood did a complete turn about and she stepped forward, with an intense, dark expression, pushing her face inches from his. “But you wanna fight, you piece of shit?!” she loudly screamed, shoving him hard. “Come on! I’ll break you like a fuckin’ twig! You hear me?! You’re fuckin’ dead!”

“Wanna play rough, eh? Well you’re in luck, ‘cause that’s just my game!” The pirate pulled a switchblade and suddenly lunged at Gilda, shouting like he was screaming a war cry.

It was a tragedy.

Alice didn’t even really know what happened until it was already over. Gilda twisted on the ball of her foot, dodging to the inside of the blow and wrapping her armpit around the man’s elbow. With one quick use of leverage, she heard the satisfying pop of his shoulder dislocating, then she reared back and struck him hard in the mouth. With the grace of a bird, she instantly let go, twisted him around, and kicked his back, stumbling him forward and into a wall lined with beverages. He fell and cracked his face against the bottles, shattering several as he fell to the ground.

The other man had just recovered and sent a sluggish punch aimed right for Gilda’s face. She responded by leaning her head back and dodging the strike. As the man pulled his fist away, she lunged forward, cracking him in the nose with a headbutt. Deciding on overkill, she took another step closer and brought her knee upward, driving it hard into his balls. He let out a groan (a rather high-pitched one at that) and quickly fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

A shout announced that the greasy pirate had come back into play and he wasn’t messing around. He had picked up the remains of the glass bottles from the floor and was resorting to flinging them at the woman, standing back on two feet. Gilda dodged to the side and stepped forward. She ducked under another. Finally she got in range of the man and sprouted a feral grin, slamming her foot into his gut. Before he could recover, she planted her foot back down and yanked hard at the weapon in his hands. With a small twist, she heard a pop at his other shoulder, and welcomed it like an old friend. The man yelled in pain, going down onto his knees. Gilda gave a kiss to her knuckles, then delivered a final haymaker straight into his jawline. He fell to the ground like a stone in a pond. He didn’t get back up. Meanwhile, his friend was whimpering and crawling towards the exit, hands cupped around his once ‘manly’ parts.

The rest of the bar patrons were in an uproar, cheering at Gilda and thumping on the bar tables. Alice stayed on the ground, her heart rate fast and her breaths heavy. The grey-haired woman briefly ignored her, instead moving to the unconscious body of the man. She rooted around in his pockets, discarding some bits and bobs before pulling out a wallet. The lean woman took a courtesy glance inside and smirked.

“Next round’s on me, lads!” she called out, pocketing the man’s supply of bills. She then moved over to Alice and squatted down by her. “You alright, squirt?”

“Y-Yeah...” Alice slowly got up, dusting herself off. She tried to put on her best brave face. “Just a lil’ shaken is all.”

The woman offered a smile and tousled the girl’s hair. “Heh. You got balls, kid.” She moved over to a stool by the bar counter and waited. Soon, a timid looking man wearing a bowler hat peaked out of the kitchen.

“Morgan,” Gilda addressed. He nodded, then started searching through the ruins of his cabinet. He paused.

“T-that was one of the bottles that broke.”

Gilda growled, “Fine. Honey cocktail. Don’t skimp on the booze.”

Alice glanced around. Nobody else seemed to be as friendly as this woman was so she was probably her safest bet right now. She moved to the bar table and stood there awkwardly. Every other stool was taken.

“Curt,” Gilda addressed, staring ahead.

“Hmm?” the man to her side grunted in reply.

“Go play a round of pool.”

“Uh... alright, boss,” he addressed, rubbing at the camouflage bandanna around his forehead. He rose and went off to play a game.

Alice quickly seized the seat for herself. “Er, thanks,” she said, looking at all the bottles of alcohol. Wasn’t there anything nice to drink? She looked to Gilda and hurriedly added, “And thanks for helping me back there.”

She shrugged easily, brushing off the girl. The woman leaned to the side and shouted down to the kitchen. “How’s the cocktail comin’?”

“Good, g-good!” a nervous voice replied.

“Well, add a grape soda to my order,” the woman said, briefly playing with her eyebrow ring.

“Ya don’t have to do that,” Alice said, leaning against the bar table. Even if they were pirates, they were still people and Alice just felt bad getting so much for free from anyone, without giving anything in return. Still, this was probably the most decent anyone got around here...

“If ya don’t want to,” Alice added, giving Gilda a quick nod.

“I said I was going to,” she tersely replied.

“Got it,” Alice said swiftly. She wasn’t going to argue with any pirates here.

Their drinks came shortly afterwards, Gilda’s in a traditional champagne glass, Alice’s in a large fountain glass. The woman took a sip of her beverage then leaned forward, resting her arm on the bar. Alice began to drink her soda, relishing in the taste and the buzz it gave her, but she always kept an eye on the woman next to her.

Gilda gave an irritated sigh, finally speaking once she nursed half her drink. “Kid. What are you doing here?”

Well, this was it. Alice had already formulated an excuse before heading inside the bar. She just hoped it’d slide. “I...I wanna become a pirate.” She gave Gilda a firm nod.

Gilda returned to her drink, shuffling in her seat. “Fuck off, kid,” she said plainly. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” Alice retorted, attempting to take a hearty swig of her drink just like a pirate would. She nearly choked.

The pirate stayed silent for a long, uncomfortable minute. Without warning, she turned to face the young girl. “Have you ever killed a man?” Gilda asked.

Alice tapped the bar table. “No but...I got balls.” There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. “And I’ve helped put down animals on the farm before!”

Gilda ran a finger along the rim of her glass. She took another drink. “I started when I was about your age. Left my country behind on some shitty freighter. Was a smuggler. Captain liked to transport cocaine, heroin, mostly. Though we had to do some human trafficking when we were completely broke.” She flicked her hard eyes towards Alice again. “Used to have nightmares. Grimy kids my age in cuffs screaming at me to let them go. Still do, sometimes.” She finished off her drink. “I do things a bit differently now, but the point’s the same. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you become a pirate.”

Alice scratched her leg, avoiding Gilda’s gaze. “I got nowhere else to go really...” It left an awful feeling inside, having to lie so much. Jack definitely wouldn’t approve. But the ends justified the means.

“There’s always someplace to go,” Gilda replied, briefly playing with her pierced lip. With a scowl, she reached into her pocket, pulling out the wad of money she had taken. With deft hands, she counted off one hundred dollars and put it on the counter by Alice. “Get back to the mainland, squirt. There’s an orphanage in Camelot ran by a woman named Charlotte. Tell her I sent you. That cash should be enough for a ticket and a few meals.”

Alice frowned, pushing the dollars away. “I don’t wanna go to some orphanage. I wanna be a pirate ‘cause that’s freedom.”

“You’re gonna be a good little girl and go there,” Gilda instructed with a scowl, pushing the money towards Alice.

The girl stared at the money, steeling herself for what she was about to do next. She didn’t want to do it but Gilda left her with no choice. She looked into Gilda’s eyes and defiantly said, “And what if I don’t?”

“You know what? I don’t give a shit. I gave you an out. Up to you if you got the balls to take it.”

Alice turned to her drink, taking another sip. “I guess ya won’t mind if I stick around you then.”

“Kid,” Gilda warned, her voice low and menacing. “I’m not playing here. You’re not coming with, and that’s that.”

“Fine then!” Alice downed the rest of her drink, slamming the glass on the bar table. “I’ll just hang around here!”

The pirate rose with a shake of her head at the girl, tossing a few more bills on the table. “We’ve killed enough time--let’s move, boys!” she called out with a snap of her fingers. “Rim’s calling us!”

Dozens of men rose, polishing off their drinks and belching. They followed Gilda’s example, dropping cash for their drinks and quickly filing out. Soon, only a few scattered men sat in the bar. Alice pretended to stay put until all of Gilda’s crew had left. Once the bar was (relatively) quiet, she slipped off her seat and followed them out the door.

By now, it was going into early evening and the sky was painted with a beautiful orange. A cool wind blew through the town, picking up cans and paper like tumbleweeds. Gilda and her motley crew headed outside of the fenced-in buildings then traveled northwest, going around the fence and heading down a thin, dirty trail that the jungle seemed to swallow whole. The group walked along the loose dirt path as it sloped downward, leading to a fairly hidden fueling station. Dozens of boats lined the edge of the water, with one in particular being almost half the size of a cruise ship, seeming to be more of a galleon than an actual modern boat.

The ship was worn and had obvious years under its belt. Its sides were decorated with Kvaat writing in bold, white lettering. At the front was a figurehead of a griffon--it’s wings spread as if in flight and its claws holding a stack of arrows. Alice couldn’t help but be entranced the moment she saw it. She could admire it later though--soon she’d actually be on deck!

She walked a short distance behind the crew, their chatting and shouting making it easy to be quiet. As they neared the ship, the girl took cover behind a box and waited for them to get aboard.

The group split up, several called out to the large, imposing boat waiting on the waterside, while others seemed to be saying a few more goodbyes to people working on the docks. Gilda simply stood where she was, looking with anticipation at the water and seeming to thumb something in the pocket of her camouflage cargo pants. Alice kept her eyes on her. She didn’t want to move until the woman was on board.

With an intense scowl, Gilda made her way towards the boat, just as a walkway came down from its side and landed on the concrete dock’s edge. Gradually the rest of the crew followed her and made their way onto the ship. Just as the last crew member got onboard, Alice sprinted to the walkway and speedily made her way across. Thankfully, the crew was busy prepping for the ship’s departure--it gave her enough time to make a mad dash to the shutter leading below deck. She flipped it open and quickly ran down a small stairway and through the open room she found herself in, hiding behind a collection of large, dusty barrels in the corner of the room.

The ship took off moments later and her journey was underway. Alice watched from her hiding place as pirates went about their business, loading supplies into the large storage room. Several went back and forth through a door alarmingly close to Alice. From inside, she could hear the clattering of pots and pans being knocked into, along with the more familiar sound of a whisk running through liquid. Several minutes later, after the crew had settled down on loading their supplies, Alice heard the sound of something opening, then a familiar woman’s voice calling down from the shutter leading up away from the ship’s innards.

“All hands up top!” Gilda ordered. “We’re discussing the plan of attack.”

Alice kept silent, listening in as best she could. With luck, they’d be heading exactly where she intended to go.

The girl heard the kitchen door open, then the sound of two people slowly walking in sync. “Man, do you really think we’ll get those sons-of-bitches this time?” a man’s voice asked, deep and rumbling.

“I dunno,” another voice answered. “I mean, we stumbled on them by luck at first. Now that we know where they’re holed up? Ain’t gonna be no contest, even if they have the locals on their side.”

The first man snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure we need to be worried by some grass-skirt wearing spear chuckers.”

The other laughed. “I dunno. I hear their leader’s a pretty scary woman, for a spear chucker.”

“I’ve yet to meet anyone scarier than a bullet,” he replied. The two came into view; Alice held her breath and made herself as small as possible.

They didn’t even notice her. They just kept walking. One seemed to be a man of average stature, he briefly whistled a little off-key tune under his breath and looked over a pistol. The other was a giant, even to Alice’s eyes. The man had to be at least seven feet, if not more. His ebony skin was scarred with dozens of bullet wounds and his powerful body showcased a life of hard work and healthy living. He gave a good-natured slap to the other man’s back. “Come on, pal, let’s get up top before Gilda starts squawking.”

“Yeah, ok, Will.”

Alice watched them until they left their sight, then reclined against the barrels. She bit her lip, thinking over what had just been said. She wanted no part in any fighting but maybe, just maybe, ‘those sons-of-bitches’ included Princess Luna. Whatever the case, the only thing she could do was hide and wait.

Onslaught

His head pounding with every step, Lew took quick, precise steps trailing Zecora. The native woman moved fast, last night’s drunken celebration seeming to have hardly fazed her. To be fair, Lew reasoned, he hadn’t expected the honey-ish tasting concoction she gave him to have such a massive kick.

Still, he was on the tail end of his hangover at last. It was becoming easier to keep pace, though he had to hold his stride in some. The smaller, shorter strides of Zecora were making it a little tougher on him--plus, they had entered into jungle whose terrain was half jagged stone and boulders. That meant they weren’t too far from the shoreline, Zecora mentioned.

He saw she had stopped at the top of a small rise. He doubled timed it, slowing as he approached to take a crouch next to her.

They’d been climbing up the sloped side of a small cliff. In front lay a sheer drop, cracks and gripping trees marking the fall below. But it was the base of the cliff that mattered far more.

They’d found a pirate camp.

“Tell me, are you ready for a fight? Or are you still struggling from last night?” Zecora asked with a sly smile as she squatted low, peeking over the rise.

He rolled his eyes and loosened the sword at his belt, then checked the rounds in his pistol. As he did so, he said, “Didn’t you have enough laughs then?” He scanned the camp. Offhand, he saw six or seven men. The rocky coast was probably a hundred yards or so away from the base of the cliff; a small, sleek vessel--designed for speed, not assault--was anchored to a low point. “From what I can see and the size of that ship, I’m going to put it at a dozen men. Maybe a few more.” He gave her a measured look. “Think you can deal with that?”

Her expression hardened. “Child’s play for a knight and me. The cowards will fall--wait and see.”

“Mmm,” he said, pulling out a pair of binoculars from his carrier bag. The camp was small and poorly put together, tents placed haphazardly with no real direction or thought to defense. Along its western side the terrain turned very rough, with jagged, spike-like rocks jutting in all directions. He pointed as he said, “There’s our best approach if we don’t want to be seen. Plenty of cover, though questionable footing. Maneuverability might be limited.”

Remembering who he was talking to, he added, “Or at least for me, it might be. If you think you can keep yourself safe, I’d suggest you distract them from that side.” He gestured to the other side of the camp, which led into the jungle. But only after about thirty yards of clearing the pirates had made. “I’ll come from that end, sniping targets as they try and hit you. They’ll figure out they’re taking fire, then take cover against me. Giving you an opening to charge and push to melee.”

Standing, he tucked away his binoculars. “Between the confusion that will generate and you pushing them out of the open for me to pick off, should be an easy enough operation.”

Zecora nodded earnestly, drawing the spear from behind her back. “A plan like that works for me. It’s a talent of mine--not being seen.”

Setting down his bag, Lew pulled his headdress up, wrapping his face tightly till nothing but his eyes could be seen. He unslung his rifle, chambered a round and said, “To battle we go, with Elondrie’s guidance we’ll come out whole. Good luck, Zecora.”

“Same to you, little Lew.” With an adjustment of the cloak she wore, Zecora was off--crouched low and using her hand as a balance, she snuck her way across the terrain with an enviable grace.

Heading off in the opposite direction, Lew dashed as fast through the trees as he could. He’d seen where the land sloped down and around, leading to the base of the cliff. It was a little childish, but he sprinted as fast as he could, hoping to beat Zecora getting into position.

The tribal woman ducked into the rocky field, hiding behind one of the many large rocks nearby the camp. She laid her spear to the side and cupped her palms. She blew sharply into her hands and adjusted her fingers as she did, producing a call similar to a toucan's cry.

Cursing, Lew came up to his spot just a moment afterwards. He hadn’t thought to make any signal. Nothing came to his mind--he certainly didn’t think he could make the sound of a toucan. Hoping she’d just realize he was in place, he found a good spot, crouched, and sighted through his scope. He could see about three pirates, but what was better, he could see the other side to the rocks where Zecora was lurking.

He watched, and waited.

Zecora listened briefly, getting a feel for what was behind her hiding spot. She heard two footsteps approaching, and the shuffling of another man a ways back. Deciding to gather them near her, she picked up a palm sized rock and threw it at her feet. The clacking noise echoed across the camp as she leaned back against her cover and waited.

There were a few utterances of confusion between the patrolling guards at the noise. They cautiously crept towards the rocky field, slowly sweeping behind the rocks with their battered and worn Kalashnikov’s.

Zecora held her breath and waited for them to come closer, her keen ears telling her exactly where they were at on the gravelly terrain. When they were mere feet from her hiding spot, she sprung, turning and lunging her spear forward, embedding it deep into the closer guard’s chest. He stared down in confusion at the object piercing his heart and briefly moved his hand to the shaft, before giving up the ghost and going limp.

The other guard turned at the noise and, with an alarmed yell, fired. Zecora crouched down behind cover just as the bullet ripped, sparks flew as it skidded across the sharp and pointed rock. With a blur of motion she rose, reaching across the chest-high rock and grabbing the man’s shoulders. The tribal woman yelled, pulling the bandit across the rock and dropping to her knees. The sharp crag pierced through his gut and out his back as she pulled his body down towards the ground.

A shot from across the way hit the splayed out body, briefly misting the air with red. Zecora reacted, leaping toward another rock as another bullet ripped across the camp.

It seemed like the others were finally awake. Zecora grimly frowned as she unsheathed her knife, hoping Lew would get a few shots off before they assaulted her cover.

The captain had watched it all through the clarity of his scope, a beautiful but deadly dance that had lasted mere moments. Everything after that exploded at once, with the entire camp waking to the death cries and grabbing their weapons to avenge their comrades. A couple charge, weapons raised in hope to violently send Zecora to her doom. The rest held back, guns up and flashing, spilling bullets all over the field of rock.

He grinned. It was too easy, really. Drawing and holding in a deep breath, he sighted at the shooter closest to his ally, lining up his shot right at the base of the neck. The pirate was waving his rifle right and left, but left his vulnerable head quite stationary. It didn’t remain that way for long.

Almost mechanically he pulled the trigger, felt the slam of the riflebutt in his shoulder, then moved right along to the next target. While he’d seen plenty in the past, this time he didn’t even register the unseen hammer of force that knocked his first victim forward and down, a wide cloud of red spraying from the spot where his head had once been.

He did it a second time, a third, a fourth--by then the pirates had realized they’d been caught in a pincer. His fifth shot would’ve found its mark, but for another pirate knocking his friend to the ground. Lew cursed, taking his eye from the scope to get a wider view of the camp. The pirates now knew about him and were taking cover from the sniper in the jungle.

Zecora readied her blade and sprinted over to another large rock, one closer to the camp. She saw a man in cover from Lew’s shots, clearly distracted by the rifle shots. With a toss of her knife, she struck his skull, dropping him instantly. The tribal woman ran over to his still-warm corpse and stole the poorly maintained rifle in his hands. Zecora took to shooting it, her aim poor and inexperienced, but still managing to graze a few behind their cover. When the clip ran dry, she hid behind cover, pulling her knife free and wiping it against her sarong. She tensed, waiting for Lew to distract them one more time.

The pirates were disoriented, their morale quickly fading. Lew almost felt bad for them. They’d really never stood a chance. He took down another pair as they leapt away from Zecora’s poor marksmanship. Lew was going to have to talk to her--she could’ve hurt herself, being so inexperienced.

Nine, he thought. Three, four left, tops.

But in their desperation, the remaining pirates had managed something of a perfect position. Between them and Lew stood a tall pile of logs, the trees they had cleared, cut down and awaiting to be thrown in a fire. Despite the power of his shots, Lew knew he’d never pierce the obstacle. Able to ignore his sniping, they could focus all their firepower on Zecora; all that stood between her and them were the pirates’ tents. They couldn’t see her, but they didn’t necessarily have to. Lew lowered his rifle, reshaping his plan before something went terribly, terribly wrong.

Zecora knew beasts. She had spent years hunting and gathering all manners of creatures for her people. She knew their mating calls. She knew their roars of aggression.

She knew fear.

She could smell the panic on the pirates. Could envision their shaking hands and labored breaths.

She did what any predator did to weak, pitiable prey.

She charged.

She charged across the sands and the rocky terrain, all trace of subtlety gone. As she ran across the camp, she bellowed a call in a tongue Lew had no comprehension of. Bullets rained down on her, yet she seemed invincible, never altering her course amid the chaos. She finally could see enough of the survivors to notice the panic and raw, abject terror in their eyes.
Zecora let out a primal roar and pounced, landing on the chest of the closest pirate. Without even stopping to check on him, the woman pressed on, throwing a knife at one of the few men who still had a trace of wits about him. It struck his throat. His finger spastically twitched in his death throw, spraying the area with random, wild bullets, striking one man through the kidney, and nicking Zecora across the dark skin of her neck. She pressed on to the last man, who was all but a blubbering mess. With a deft slap, she knocked his gun away and took to throttling him, hoisting him up with her hands and began slowly strangling his life away.

Meanwhile, Lew had ran from his jungle cover, hoping to make a target of himself for the pirates--he’d found his little outfit made him a hard target, if he moved fast enough--but realized he was already too late as he rounded the logs. Looking dumbfounded at the panting Zecora, blood splattered and dripping down her body, he pulled out his pistol and finished off the few who weren’t quite dead.

A couple minutes later, he holstered the gun and looked at the carnage around him. Taking in another deep breath, he let it out slowly. Again, he told himself they were most likely all murderers, rapists, the worst kind of scum. This was his duty. This was justice.

It didn’t settle the ache in his chest much, but made it more bearable. Through tight lips, he said, “It’s over. We did it.”

Zecora took a breath and nodded, visibly weary as she held a hand over her bleeding neck. She moved over to a corpse, pulling her knife from his body and taking to feeling through his pockets.

“You have proven you’re no runt. You did well upon this hunt.”

“Thanks. You’re no slouch yourself. I know Royal Guardsmen who don’t have half your skill,” he said, lowering his headdress. His hair was matted with sweat and messy. The cool breeze wafting in from the ocean felt amazing. But, as he had always found in the Rim, the scent of it was off. Not the salty tang of your typical ocean, it instead held a more organic odor, not unlike rotting vegetation.

He shivered then looked over their victory again. “A small camp, probably no-namers. But still. They’ll have ammo, food, maybe other supplies--like something to bandage your neck.” The young captain started searching through bodies and tents. Beyond a mess of cheap canned foods and more bottles of beer than many bars could boast to having, he found little of use. But finally, it the largest tent, he found a standard medical kit.

Taking some disinfectant and gauze bandage, Lew approached Zecora. “You’re lucky they didn’t hit your carotid. Charging like that was...” he trailed off, not quite wanting to finish his sentence.

She gave a shrug, removing a hand from her neck and brushing her white hair away from the wound. “They were frightened, running scared. I knew their aim would be impaired.”

Giving a neutral grunt in return, Lew went to quick work, cleaning and dressing the wound. His hands were a little clumsy for such precise work, but he’d been practicing field medicine enough in the past few weeks that he quickly had the wound patched. “Well, I’m no medic but that should be alright, won’t get infected at least.”

Zecora gave a nod, smiling slightly at the action. “I appreciate the aid. Though you look quite unlike a nursemaid.”

“They teach you all sorts of things at the Academy,” he said, smoothing one last piece of medical tape. “Ok, you’re good. I think we should get some rest, then take what supplies we can carry back to my people’s camp.” He crossed his arms, watching her. “If you want to, that is.”

“Meeting them would be a delight. I want to speak with the Princess of night.”

Nodding, Lew replied, “She’ll want to meet you, too. I’m sure of it. Alright, let’s pile what we can, pack it, then relax. I dunno about you, but I’m always beat after a fight.”

“A rest is needed to keep healthy and fit.” Zecora then paused, glanced at her bloodstained clothing. “And a wash, while we’re at it.”

“Right,” Lew replied, heading back to the leader’s tent to see what he might take. It had been risky, but with weapons and ammo--provided he could get it back to camp, after all--for his men, they might just stand a chance at taking back their ship.

With Elondrie’s guidance, he prayed hard they would make it home after all.

000

Macintosh briskly walked through the crowded streets of Gaingridge’s main road, looking frantically in every direction, hoping, praying, that he’d spot her. He had had no luck so far, but he was far from giving up yet. The port town was fairly large, chances were good he might have just missed her. Still, the day was drawing to a close and the incoming darkness would only make his search harder. He doubted that she could’ve ever managed to find a boat. After all, who’d be willing to take a kid that was by herself out to the ocean?

His complexion paled. There were some people willing to take a kid by herself out on the water...

“No,” he said to himself, clenching his fists tightly at his side. He couldn’t think like that, not this early. Not until he ran through every other possibility. His feet took him towards the docks as his mind wandered through every agonizing possibility of what could’ve happened to Alice.

“Hey. Tall guy. Look down ‘ere for a sec,” came the whiny voice of a short, stout man. “Yer blockin’ the stairs to the boats. Go ahead and move would ya?”

The giant of a man stepped to the side. An idea came to him. “You a dock worker?”

“Yeah. And you look like a tourist. No idea where ya goin’.” The man sighed, shaking his head and muttering something as he began to make his way down the steps.

“Wait,” Macintosh said, his voice leaving very little room for argument.

The dock worker stopped, lazily turning around. “What?” he replied bluntly.

“I’m lookin’ fer a girl. Red hair, tanned like me. ‘Bout five-five. I think she mighta been tryin’ ta get a boat. Ring a bell?”

The man scratched his head. “I see a lot of kids runnin’ around here...but none of that type.” He looked around the dock, making a grunt of approval once he spotted someone approaching the two. “Might want to talk to Ol’ Hans. He’s been fishing all day,” he explained, pointing at the guy in question. Hans noticed the point, raising a brow and adjusting the cooler he had in hand.

“Good evening, boys. Were you needing me for something?” the dark-skinned man asked, shifting his easy gaze from the dock worker to Mac.

“This big fella’s been lookin’ fer a girl. Might be related ‘cause she’s got a similiar tan to his, apparently. Much shorter though--this guy says about five-five. Also she’s got red hair,” the dock worker said, coughing after giving his spiel.

“Red hair...” Hans snapped his fingers. “I remember a girl like that. She said her folks were over at Misemo.”

“Our folks are dead,” Mac bluntly said.

“And she was a bad liar.” Hans slightly smiled. “That’s gotta be your girl.”

“Where is she, old timer?” The giant put his hands to his waist.

“Misemo,” he stated, looking at Mac.

Macintosh broke away from the two without another word, heading down towards the docks proper.

“Where you going, son?” Hans called out.

“Gettin’ a boat. Goin’ ta Misemo,” he answered.

“I hope you don’t mind pirates.” The dockworker scoffed, folding his arms.

Macintosh froze. He turned to stare hard at the dockworker. “Don’t care,” he replied. “I’m gettin’ my sister back.”

“Well good luck with that,” the man replied, turning away to get back to his work. But before he left, he stopped in his tracks and simply uttered, “Though considerin’ where she’s at, she might need it more than you.” He then left the two, not even sparing them a glance.

“How do I get there?” Macintosh asked, staring hard at Hans. The old man sighed, looking over the giant farmer. After a beat, he tilted his chin towards the docks.

“I’ll take you.”

000

The ocean rocked Hans’s small fishing boat in what felt like a million different directions to Macintosh. He spent most of the long, hour-filled ride hunched over the side of the raft, throwing up what little he had ate. He had never been on a boat before--the rocking made him completely nauseous. Hans had laughed it off at first, but as they came closer and closer to the black, barely lit island on the star-filled horizon, the old man’s attitude had gotten progressively more and more grim.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Hans asked. Mac weakly looked up from his position over port bow.

“A... as soon as I hit land.” Mac wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and rose, wobbling a little from the boat’s movement.

“Won’t be much longer then, young’un. Almost there.”

“Thank God,” the giant said under his breath, wiping at his sweat-coated brow.

They traveled the rest of the way in silence, Hans made his way to the fueling station, and pointed Mac towards a dirt covered path that led into the forest.

“Stay on the trail. There’s not much here, save for a bar.” He paused, then added, “At least, not much else civilized. Stay safe, son.”

“Thank ya,” Macintosh replied, climbing down from the boat and onto the concrete dockline. He could almost kiss it--hell, he could almost kiss anything that wasn’t a damn boat right now. He gave a small wave to Hans and began his trek up the dimly lit path.

He traveled along it for several minutes, the torches lining the walkway few and far between. He debated taking out his flashlight from his pack, but decided against stopping. Mac wasn’t sure how friendly the locals were, but he guessed from what the dockworker said about them being pirates, he didn’t want to test their hospitality.

Macintosh trekked uphill until he came to a fenced in shantytown. Three buildings were sealed inside the fence line. The one on his left seemed to be the liveliest. Music played inside, practically wafting through the wooden structure like a scent. He followed the fence until he came to the other side of the structure, where a rusty gate opened the way for him. Cautiously, he entered then approached what he guessed was the bar. Opening the door, he caught the middle of a conversation between two men that sat at the counter of the nearly deserted bar.

“Fuck me, man...” came the hoarse voice of a man. “She beat the shit outta us!”

“Quit your fuckin’ bitchin’. We’re still standin’. Beaten, but standin’. If she had the balls, she would’ve finished us off,” said another.

“Easy for you to say! You didn’t get hit in the fuckin’ balls!”

“No, I didn’t. I just got knocked out cold, you shit for brains!”

“In front of a kid too...gah!” The bandana wearing man slammed a fist on the bar table.

Mac’s ears perked at that. It wasn’t like there were many kids around pirate towns. He ambled on over and slid into a seat next to the men. The barkeep briefly poked his head out of the backroom.

“Whiskey. Straight,” Mac grunted, raising a single finger. The barkeep nodded, pouring out the farmer’s drink and sliding it to the man. Knocking the shot back, he barely showed any reflex as the alcohol dug into his gut. He finally glanced over at the two men occupying the seats next to him. “Was the kid a girl? Red hair?”

The bandana man leant over the bar table, getting a better view of Mac. “Yeah, she was. What about it?”

“Where is she?” he asked, ignoring the other’s question.

The greasy man gave his friend a sharp glance before answering Mac. “Some pirate captain took her. She was screamin’ an’ everythin’. Fuckin’ terrible. That’s why we both look like shit.”

“God...” Mac trailed off under his breath, looked forward once more. He put a jaw to his chin, troubled by the info. “She’s out there...” The Apple returned his gaze to the two. “Where the pirate take her?”

“With her crew. I don’t really know ‘em. Not from around here I think,” the greasebucket of a pirate answered. He pointed towards the barkeep. “He’ll probably know.”

“I’m a barkeep, not an informant. I keep my ear out of that--keeps me alive,” he argued.

“The dock workers,” Mac suddenly deduced. “They might know somethin’.”

“Probably,” the greasy man replied. “If you’re goin’ after her though...give her hell. She’s the worst kinda scum.”

Mac mulled it over. “I’ve got over one thousand dollars on person. I’ll give you each five hundred ta find where she went, an’ get me to that bitch.”

Both pirates flashed a grin. “Consider it done!” the bandana pirate exclaimed, both jumping up from their seats.

“We’ll be back shortly. For now, heh, enjoy the booze. That’s some good poison,” the bandana man said, gesturing for the other to follow him. The two swiftly exited the bar, grinning fiendishly.

The farmer was a simple man. Simple, but not stupid. He knew cutthroats when he saw ‘em. Those boys took him for a sap. Odds were, they would take him out to the water. They’d take him, then kill him. Probably dump his body into the water. Spend the night counting his bills. He felt in his bag, finally grasping the reassuring weight of his gun. He transferred it to his pocket and returned his attention to his drink. His mind turned toward not only to the little girl he was after, but the little girl at home.

He sighed. She ain’t a little girl neither, no more, he thought. It was true. He wasn’t that much older than Jack, but there were times when he sure as hell felt like it. The girl going out there and getting shot up while he waited at home hoping for the best? It didn’t set right with Mac, never had and never would.

“At least now yer doin’ somethin’ ‘bout it,” he said under his breath. He rose, tossing a twenty on the bar. He looked down the hallway the bartender disappeared to. “Left my money on the counter,” Mac called, already heading for the door.

The farmer stepped outside, taking just a moment to feel the air running through his rough blond hair. The giant felt once again for the weight of his gun, breathing a sigh of relief when he confirmed it. He took off through the ramshackle town, glancing towards the few buildings that occupied the fenced-in area. Each one seemed as worn as he felt right now--like a stiff breeze could collapse them. He left the gated community and headed towards the docks. The tropical trees once again felt claustrophobic as his boots crunched on the dirt pathway leading downward. He heard a noise to his left. Mac tensed up, almost waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to try and ambush him from the treeline.

When it didn’t happen, he visibly slumped. Damn nerves, he thought, continuing down the path.

Mac made it through the thick woods and started down the slope leading to the docks. He scanned through the small group of people still wandering the fueling station and didn’t notice the two men he spoke to in the bar. Mac sighed in irritation, but didn’t lose hope yet, they could just be somewhere he wasn’t seeing.

“‘Ey!” came a voice from behind him. It was his ‘informats’. “We got whatcha need,” proclaimed the greasy pirate.

“She’s fucked off with her crew on her ship: The Bloodied Talon,” the bandana guy grimaced, “Weird name if ya ask me. Couple of the dockworkers said she’s heading to the Ghost Rim. Apparently that’s a normal thing for her.”

“We spoke to a couple good men, y’know, connections and managed to get you a boat there.” The sinister grin on the grease bucket’s smile plainly told Mac that it was more than just ‘speaking’ that they did. “It ain’t pretty, but it’ll do.”

The two gestured for the farmer to follow them, and they took him to their vessel. It wasn’t much: a mere fishing boat. Small, rusted, worn, but serviceable. A few workers were onboard, seemingly a bit too occupied with their duties.

“Step aboard, mate.” The cleaner man (in comparison to his friend) gave Mac a light shove towards the boat.

“After you two,” Mac instantly replied, turning to stare at both of them.

They shrugged and casually strided on board. “Fine, if you’re offerin’,” the greasy man said.

Macintosh followed after them, keeping a close eye on everyone present. He felt again for the heat at his side. His companions barked orders to the workers and they hurried about. It wasn’t long before the boat was set in motion.

Don’t worry, Alice. I’m comin’ ta save ya. Mac looked up at the stars, wondering if his little sister was doing the same.

Favors

A loud, rapid clanking noise jarred Alice away from her sleep. She briefly stumbled, trying to re-adjust to the strange surroundings. Rubbing her eyes, she could hear the harsh, brutish voices of burly men up above. Something about anchors? She figured that they must’ve hit shore or something; ship wasn’t swaying so much.

Stifling a yawn, she carefully shuffled about, trying to peek from the barrels and get a view past them. The massive Sominai man she saw earlier was hauling an oversized barrel up to deck, as a shorter man passed by him on the stairwell and walked towards the barrels Alice was hiding behind.

She held back a gasp and quickly went back into cover, desperately trying to hold her breath until the pirate walked away. She heard a small grunt, and felt the pile she hid by shake slightly as its weight redistributed. He walked to the upper decks, a small barrell in tow. Judging by the voices coming from outside, there was something going on.

Curiosity took a hold of the girl, spurring her on to creep into the open. She looked to her left and right for any incoming men, similar to how she watched the road for incoming cars. Just like Jack told her too.

She let out a guilty sigh. Her sister was probably worried sick by now. Out of all the Apples, she was the one closest to her family. Sure, every Apple was, but... Jack was more than most.

The sooner I listen in to what’s going on up on deck, the sooner I can find Luna. And then the sooner I can go back home, she told herself—reassured herself. The floorboards creaked under her weight as she went across, but the commotion upstairs probably would have drowned out her noises.

Crawling up the stairs, she peered about for any more pirates. They were loads of ‘em. Luckily, most were distracted by whatever was going on...

Alice took a deep breath, then sprinted across the deck as fast as her legs could take her. Then, she jumped, diving behind some crates near the mast. She hid for a couple of seconds, then turned back, looking at whatever the heck the fuss was all about.

Dozens of men sat around, loudly drinking and telling stories. The most obvious, the Sominai man, held two tankards and was alternating which one he dove into with every breath. The ship’s cabin door opened, and a stern looking Gilda marched forward, a pistol in her hand. The others, save the giant man, paid her no mind. She promptly lifted her gun into the air and fired. Several of the men yelped, one instinctively reached for the gun at his waist, only to have the massive hand of the giant Sominai rest on his shoulder and calm him. Alice herself flinched, although she did not yell.

“Formation, maggots!” Gilda called, adjusting the collar of the jacket she wore.

Her men promptly lined up. each puffing their chest out and staring straight ahead. Gilda marched in front of them, looking even more hateful than she did at the bar.

“Status reports to me, men! Food supply, Will!.”

The giant stepped forward. “Over a month’s worth, and even then, we can reinforce it with hunting small prey, captain.”

“Good. Ammunition, Naomi.”

A lanky, narrow woman with as gruff of a look in her eyes as Gilda crossed her arms, wiping at a grime spot on her cheek. “Enough bullets to blow out a whale’s snatch. Not to mention three guns for every man on board, captain.”

“Good. We got enough for repa--”

“We’ve got everything,” a man’s voice said, rolling his eyes. “We just restocked, we even sent you the Goddamn papers. We’re fine.”

Gilda scowled, obviously perturbed by his insubordination. She marched down the line towards him, and, without breaking stride, snapped her elbow up, cracking him across the jawline. He fell hard on the dock and moaned, clutching at his cut face.

“Forgot to say ‘captain’ at the end,” she said, casually looking over her gun. She took a step back and pocketed the pistol, before putting her hands behind her back and observing her men.

Alice observed the events, letting out a quiet, shocked gasped as Gilda hit the man. She knew by now that this woman was tough as nails, but to show such aggression towards her own crew was something else.

Then again... they were pirates. Alice remembered the times when she went out of line with her folks. Spanks hurt, but they taught her a lesson. Maybe pirates were like that, but ‘cause they were adults, they needed bigger hits?

“The reason I asked about our fucking supplies, is because we’re going to be stationed here for a bit. Seeing how we do have plenty, there’s no Goddamn excuse to leave this place again until we’re done.”

She cracked her knuckles and walked past the line of men, grabbing a tankard and filling it from one of the barrels resting on deck. She took a drink, then returned to the front of the group.

“We’ve gotten a few new faces after we docked at Misemo, so I’ll give you the rundown, in case Will hasn’t said anything. ‘Course, that’s pretty fucking rare.”

“Not that much of a talker,” he complained, looking dejected.

Alice suddenly clamped her hands over her mouth and did the unthinkable: she giggled. She knew she couldn’t but... seeing a man that big act like a little child looked so funny!

Thankfully, they seemed to not notice, Gilda simply glared hard at her men and began talking.

“We’ve been here, close to this same situation before. We’re dealing with some serious shit.” She pointed starboard. “The exiled princess Luna is, obviously, our target and prize. Shame she’s hiding behind her men, somewhere on the island. That, and her guards have seemed to have struck up some kinda agreement with the tribals. We’re in for a hell of a fight with the locals.”

A spotty, skinny man raised his hands and shook his head. “Wait wait wait... you’re telling me those Luna fanboys have made an alliance with them dirty apes?!”

“Bingo,” she agreed. “That’s why we’re in this with some other lads--we’re docking off-shore for a few days and waiting on them to arrive. I expect you to treat them like one of us. Am I clear on that?”

Despite her authority, there were grumbles all around.

“I thought we could take these assholes on our own...”

“I ain’t sharing the spoils with a bunch of newbies!”

“Well... this is bullshit.”

“They’re gonna take all the loot for themselves and stab us in the backs!”

Gilda looked blankly at the group. “Are you done bitching yet?” She waited, daring any one of them to speak again. There were a few grumbles amongst them, but no further outcries. “Thought so.”

She took to pacing once more, clenching and unclenching her hand. “You’ve seen what the grass-skirts around here can do,” She pointed towards one of the men. “Donnelly. Tell the others what happened at one of our camps while you were away hunting.”

“You all ain’t gonna like it,” he told them, twiddling his toothpick in between his grubby fingers. “Came back with what we could find. Found ‘em—all dead. Some had their chests impaled, others with their brains blown out. Shit, one poor bastard seemed to have been impaled through a damn rock.” He tossed away his item, snarling. “Didn’t think Luna’s boys would’ve been dragged to their level, but the evidence was there, clear as day. And covered in blood.”

Alice tried hard not to imagine the details, but it all seemed so vivid. Although she knew it would’ve been worse to stumble upon such a scene. Such a grim attack didn’t seem like the Queen’s style. Even more strange was the fact that she was starting to feel a level of sympathy for these swashbucklers.

“And whoever was fucking bitching about them stabbing us in the backs: Do you know who in the hell you’re talking to?” Gilda leaned in closer to the group, jabbing her chest sharply with a thumb. “Anyone pulls any shit and they wind up dead.”

“S’alliance of convenience then,” one man spoke up, rubbing his stubbled chin. “Still doesn’t answer what’s gonna happen to the loot rights. Captain,” he hastily added.

She smirked coyly. “Depends on how the kids act. They play nice and we’ll play nice back, let them have their toys. Besides, I’ve already called the lion’s share--Luna’s coming with us. Meaning...” Her smirk turned into a full on, feral grin, exposing her unnaturally sharp teeth. “We’re raking in that fucking bounty.”

The mood of the crew improved considerably after that, a few cheers going around. Alice twitched nervously. She couldn’t let them take Luna away... but what could one girl do against a whole gang of pirates? Leaving Stephanie and Sarah behind didn’t seem like such a good idea after all...

Unless she used her intelligence. She wasn’t the brightest in her class, yet Miss Cheerilee always said that she worked hard. So, maybe—just maybe—she could turn this around.

The crew were talking amongst one another, providing a perfect backdrop for her plan. She waited a few moments, before clearing her throat and speaking out in the deepest voice she could muster, “What if we work with Luna’s lot? We might get royal rewards ‘n’ stuff... like gold!”

“Who said that?” Gilda asked.

A lot of shrugs went around. Alice bit her thumb. She froze.

“Who in the fuck said that?” Gilda repeated.

“Yeah, ‘cause whoever said that was an idiot,” one pirate said, looking around his colleagues.

Gilda scowled, looking over the men. “Must be a new member, ‘cause anyone who’s anyone on here knows we don’t play that fucking game.”

Alice hugged herself. The butterflies that were in her stomach had turned to hornets. All the pirates shared nervous, confused glances.

“The deepest pits of hell go to liars and backstabbers. We may be pirates, but we’ve still got some Goddamn idea of rules here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a pistol. “I’ll ask one more time: Who the fuck said it?”

“Uh, Gilda?” Will spoke, not even flinching at the Kvaat’s temper. “I don’t think it came from us. Sounded like...”

The girl closed her eyes. All she could was wait for the inevitable. Heavy footsteps crossed across the ship, followed by dozens of lighter ones. Soon, they rested nearby.

“Shit,” Will quietly said, turning quickly around. “Nothing here,” he plainly announced. “I know I heard something, though. Men, search inside the ship, bow to stern!”

Alice opened an eye, but she didn’t dare look. Some of the men grumbled, but gradually their presence faded. She could begin to hear a few below deck.

“Gilda, come here,” Will instructed.

“What?” she asked, stepping towards the man.

He took a few more steps and halted. “Check some of those boxes.”

“What am I, your fu--”

“Do it,” the giant firmly instructed. Gilda grumbled under her breath, but approached the freight anyway. She leaned over, finally coming into Alice’s view. Her yellow eyes widened in surprise.

Alice timidly raised her head, looking up at the captain. “H-Hi...?”

“Goddamnit kid!” Gilda hissed. “What in the hell are you doing here?!”

“Don’t throw me overboard!!” Alice pleaded. “Don’t shoot either!”

“Do you realize what you’re on? We’d shoot you, then throw you overboard!” Gilda snapped, gesturing to the side of the ship. “That’s what happens to stowaways, Goddamnit, kid!” she repeated.

“We can’t do that. I won’t do that,” Will said, stepping into view and staring at the woman. “Not to a child.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she shouted, throwing her arms to the side. “I don’t want to do it either, but you know I can’t just let this slide, she’s gotta go!”

“Your father wouldn’t do what you’re thinking.” He thrust a heavy, meaty finger hard against her collarbone. “And I won’t let you do it either.”

“Don’t bring him into this!” Gilda retorted, clenching her fists. “You’re on thin ice!”

Will shook his head, his braided goatee twisting with the jerking movement. “I don’t care how thin it is. You’ll think of something to tell the crew. We’re not doing this. I haven’t kept you in check all these years just so you can piss any decency you have in you away.” He turned to face the girl, squatting down to the ground in a half-hearted attempt to get eye-level with her.

“I... I can h-help around, if you like,” Alice said, finding strength as she looked at him. “I’m from a farm. I do a lot of work there.”

“You’re a stowaway. We can’t jus--” Gilda started, only to be shot down by a glare from Will. He turned his attention back to the girl.

“Extra muscle never hurt on board. Especially when it’s labor we can afford.” He smiled at himself. “Heh. Rhyme. Gilda,” He rose, popping his massive back and looking at her again. “Let her work off her debt to the ship. It’s the right thing to do here.”

Slowly, Alice rose. She saw no one else atop the deck, much to her relief. She turned to Gilda, although her glare was making it difficult to look at her. “I won’t get in your way... Captain?” She scratched her cheek, getting a little lost in thought. Does this make me a pirate now?

“Don’t call me that,” she tersely replied, turning away from the girl. She rubbed at her mouth, looking around and shaking her head.

“Er... okay. Sorry ma’am.” She couldn’t exactly help it; it what just part of the manners her family had taught her.

“Shit. This is gonna fucking bite me in the ass. I just know it.”

Alice chose to ignore Gilda’s protests, so she went to Will. “How am I gonna fit in?”

“We’ll think of something, kid. Until then, stick close to me. The men can be a little... intense at first.”

“If they try anything...?” she asked, trailing off. She knew what could happen, but it didn’t make saying it out loud any better.

“They won’t do what you’re thinking of,” Will dismissed. “I see to that.”

Alice let out a thankful sigh, then stepped out of her cover. “So... where do I start?”

“You start by going to the captain’s quarters,” Will said. “You get rested up and we’ll show you off once Gilda explains the situation to the men.”

“Fucking joke...” the Kvaan said under her breath, crossing her arms and staring towards the ocean.

Alice bit her lip, gazing at Gilda. Tonight was going to be awkward. Even more so than that sleepover where Sweetie accidentally wet the bed. “Al... right...” Alice slowly said. “Ya’ll wanna take me there?”

Will offered his hand, hoisting her up easily. He turned and gestured to the only door on deck. “There.”

Alice offered the man a genuine smile. “Thanks!” Then she bolted for the door, quickly entering Gilda’s quarters and closing the door behind her.

“Will. What should I tell the men?” Gilda finally asked.

“That you have a student. Training to be the next captain. Her first exercise was to board the ship undetected and stay as a stowaway until we make it to the islands.” He crossed his arms. “Since she failed, she has to do menial labor. Once she pays off her ship debt, we toss her back at port. We’ll think of why we kicked her off later.”

She thought about it. “Not fuckin’ bad, ox. Brains and brawn--fitting for my second in command.”

“I’ve got charm coming out the ass too.” He smirked, then turned, heading towards the steps leading belowdecks. “I’ll call the men, you tell them what we discussed.”

“Owe you,” she said, a rare ghost of a smile on her lips.

“For more than this.”

000

Gilda’s personal quarters were rather refined compared to the rest of the ship, but not even they escaped the mess of a pirate ship. A comfy looking bed with a wooden headrest lay next to some windows, looking over the sea. A red rug with a complex gold design lay in the middle of the room, covering the scuffed floorboards. Weapons and basic looking paintings adorned the walls, as well as trophies of Gilda’s exploits; mainly animal body parts. A small washroom of all things tucked away behind a set of heavy curtains.

There were a couple of chests, one open with a variety of odds and ends pouring out. Alice considered playing with some of the cool stuff she found, but thought better of it. She also thought about lying in bed, yet she ended up staying on the rug.

A heavy creaking of a door hinge announced Gilda’s presence. She walked over, barely acknowledging Alice as she kicked off her boots, threw off her jacket and fell hard onto the bed. Alice kept quiet, looking away and fiddling with the frayed edges of the rug.

“You could've been killed. Ocean laws you should of been killed,” Gilda snarled, glaring hard at the girl.

Alice froze, gulping. “Uh... I’m jus’ lucky... I guess?”

She narrowed her brows. “You’re ‘lucky’ because I let you be lucky. So from now on, remember that I own you until you pay off your fucking debt. You’re going to follow everything I say, and there’s going to be no worming your way out of it. Understand?”

Alice blinked. Did she mean...? From the tone of her voice, she did. That meant that Alice was effectively a slave girl now, nothing more. “Yes, ma;’am...” Alice said, subdued and letting out a sigh.

“Repeat it.”

“But I—”

“Repeat it.” Gilda gazed hard at the girl, her calm, icy expression doing more to unnerve Alice than the loud, angry tones she had used earlier that day.

Alice closed her eyes, shaking. “Y-Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She sighed as she looked over the kid. “When you eat last?”

“Not since this m-mornin’...”

Gilda rose, scowling as made her way wordlessly outside. Several minutes later she returned, unceremoniously tossing a small loaf of bread Alice’s way. “There’s water at the pump. Knock yourself out.”

Alice grabbed the bread, devouring it greedily, then rushed over to the pump and drank from the cold water. Wiping her mouth, she returned to her place on the rug, then mumbled a thanks while she ate the rest of the bread.

“I hope you know how to mop,” Gilda warned. “‘Cause that’s what you’re doing tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I d-do...” She shuffled about on the rug, trying to get comfortable, to not avail.

Gilda rolled her eyes and pressed herself against the far end of the bed. “Come here,” she instructed.

Alice turned to face her. “Wh-what?”

“Or do you want to sleep on the Goddamn rug?” Gilda barked, turning to face the wall as she lay on her side.

“Okay then...” Alice got up, then slowly approached the bed, sitting on the very corner of it. “... I’m fine on the floor if I just got a pillow or something...”

“For God’s sake...” Gilda hopped up and slammed a pillow down onto the rug. “Take the fucking bed, kid. Shit.”

Alice raised an eyebrow, looking at the bed, then at the floor. “Ya sure about that...?”

“What did I tell you earlier?” she asked in a warning tone.

Alice nodded, then hastily climbed into bed, putting the covers protectively over herself. “Thanks,” she said.

Gilda said nothing, instead resting her arms behind her head and staring at the ceiling. After a moment, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a silver coin, a hole punched towards the top and a chain hanging from it. She looked at it, running it over her fingers in a rhythmic, almost hypnotizing motion. The woman quietly mouthed some words, their tone and pacing reminding Alice of a nursery rhyme.

“I did not see what he slew, I wonder what will be in our stew...” She seemed to ponder the words briefly, then continued in a low, muttering tone, entranced by the coin rotating over and under her fingers. “Is it beef? Is it ham? The haunches of a Clicker man? Tor-a-liddle, for-a-di, of what meat are we about to dine?”

Alice quirked an eyebrow, resting on her elbows as she looked over at Gilda. “That sounds, er... cool. Whatcha singin’?”

Gilda paused, as if just realizing the girl was still in the room with her. “Nothing,” she quickly said, pocketing the coin self-consciously. “Just a Kvan folksong.”

“Ah,” Alice replied. For a moment, silence passed, Alice rubbing her leg under the bedsheets. “I don’t know many myself.”

She shrugged. “I don’t either. That’s just one my dad told me.”

Alice nodded. Silence fell again. The girl bit her lip, then blurted out, “Ya like apples?” Her cheeks went just about as red as one after that.

“What?” Gilda paused, raising her brow. “Uh, I guess so. Cobbler’s not bad.”

“Supposin’ you’ve never tried Apples from the Apple Family, then?”

“Named after a fruit and selling it.” She shook her head, then rolled her eyes. “No. Can’t say I’ve had an Apple’s apple.”

Alice looked away for a moment to scowl and roll her eyes. “Well, they’re the best darn apples ever.”

“What happened to being an orphan, by the way?”

Alice blinked, then went completely still. “Er... whatcha mean?”

“At the bar. You told me you didn’t have anyone to look after you. Apple.”

“I never said I was an Apple!” she defended, crossing her arms.

“You more or less did now. Apple.” She stared at the kid. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be having such a temper tantrum.”

“... darn.” The pillow that had once been behind her was now lying against the opposite wall. “Well, that was jus’ an act so you’d let me come along...” She shuffled. “I guess it was a bit stupid...”

“Goddamn right it was,” Gilda snapped. She put a hand to her temple. “You have any idea what the hell we’re going into?”

“Swashbuckling adventure? Booty an’ all that?”

“Are you that fucking stupid? Nobody is around with cutlasses and that kind of shit. We’re there to do a job, not go sailing around.”

Alice looked down at her fingers, fiddling them. “Ya sure do swear like a sailor,” she muttered.

“Sorry if I offend your virgin ears, stowaway,” she dryly retorted. “How about you shut up now and sleep? Tomorrow’s not going to come any later.”

“Sorry,” Alice hastily amended. She lied down and turned away from Gilda, holding onto the covers. “... G’night, I guess.”

“Yeah. Night, squirt.” Gilda replied, shutting her eyes and resting the back of her head on her hands. After a long, drawn out pause, she added. “More blankets under the bed. If you get cold.”

Alice only gave a nod in response, her eyes already shut. It wasn’t long before sweet sleep took hold of her.

Revelry

It hadn’t taken too long for Lew and Zecora to gather up the most important supplies on a pallet, ready to carry back to his camp. It had taken the better part of a day and a half to actually carry it all the way back. But it had been worth it--ammunition, a few medical supplies, cheap but edible food from back home…

And still, it had all been forgotten as soon as the camp got a good look at Zecora herself.

The Royal Guard was a coed regiment, like all the Torani military. However, like most, it was still made up mostly of men. Men who were either single or hadn’t seen their wives and girlfriends in many months. Despite being entirely devoted to his wife, Lew could still recognize Zecora’s exotic, animalistic and sexual pull.

In retrospect, he told himself, bringing back most of the pirates’ beer had likely been a poor choice on top of that. But he knew the men needed to let off steam.

Besides, his princess had told him--it was traditional to feast and celebrate during important matters of state. And what could be more important than the discovery of a new culture and allying with them?

At first his princess had been furious with him, especially when he came completely clean in what his little scouting operation had amounted to. Luna had chewed him up one side and torn him down on the other. The effect on morale, the unnecessary risk, the lack of proper leadership in the camp…

He had unwisely mentioned that she had the commanding rank whether he was there or not.

She had ranted and rebuked him for another solid hour before he was finally able to introduce Zecora--still dirty, sweat and blood caked and matted over both her and himself. But true to form, Luna had given the native warrior a bone-cracking hug, before welcoming her and her people to the camp at any time. She had ordered a feast be prepared and celebrations begun.

After passing out the short straws for who would be skipping to keep guard, Lew had finally gotten himself to a bath. He grumbled as he made his way to the tiny, cramped soldiers’ baths--Luna had allowed Zecora access to her private tub, a strange luxury that had come with the ship. Despite being a seasoned warrior worth the battle scars she carried, well used to living on spartan surroundings, Luna allowed herself a few comforts here or there.

Scrubbed clean and still damp, Lew found one of the few spare uniforms that was being unused. It was a bit tight around the chest, but would serve while his own custom job was being cleaned and repaired. It felt especially nice to be back in traditional uniform, especially as the heat was still strong, despite the setting sun.

As he walked back to the mess tent, a smile found its way to his lips. Everyone was already celebrating and looking far more relaxed for it. Though usually straight laced, Lew had relaxed his standards and allowed the men triple beer rations. He suspected many would go over, but enough of the Guard didn’t drink that he wasn’t worried.

Despite the short time they’d been back, it seemed Zecora had been busy telling the men what was edible and where the hunt was. Already he saw the strange chameleon-like gulags being spit and roasted; beside them a peculiar squirrel-looking beast, its skin mottled green and grey and brown, like the trees around them. A few fruits and various plants sat gathered in baskets, the cook, Marls, examining and experimenting with the new varieties Zecora had shown.

He stopped and checked in with everyone, one by one. Though not always possible, Lew had always preferred a personal touch to his command. The captain could name each of his men, easily. As well, he had at least a basic knowledge of their capabilities, training specializations, rank, and experience.

That hit hard, as he shook hands and shared a few drinks. Some of his closest friends had been on the Guard with him for years. Many of those were gone--while he had simply transferred to get away from Celestia’s madness, they had gone AWOL. He both understood and couldn’t comprehend their choice. Either way, he missed them.

He missed his little sister, too. The young woman had really taken the country by storm, Celestia’s chosen protege or not. She was scary intelligent, and very capable, but he had been relieved when she’d made such wonderful friends at Mansfield. Knowing they would have his sister’s back, he honestly could say he wasn’t too worried for her. Despite their age differences, Twily had always been one to keep her head screwed on right when things went a little crazy.

But above all that he missed his wife. Cadance. Capable though she was, he was worried about her. Nearly terrified. It hadn’t helped that they had more or less been married right after a terrorist attack had nearly killed them--from day one, he had been a bit overprotective. Now with so much of the world going mad, turned on its head… What could they trust anymore? Everything that seemed so certain, so sure, had proven unreliable, false.

Before he had left, there had been rumors from the Crystal territories. Whispers of the return of the Cult of Sombra he had dismissed immediately--his sister and her friends had made sure they’d never be able to terrorize anyone ever again. But he didn’t dismiss the idea that Celestia might try and use his wife as leverage against the north. They loved their marchioness dearly and would likely do anything to protect her.

He briefly wondered how bad the nightmares would be tonight. The thought that he had failed in his most important duty--protecting his own wife--terrified him. He thanked Elondrie for the training that allowed him to use that fear to push him forward. He had other duties he needed to focus on, he told himself. Luna was even more important, in the long run, as Torani’s last legitimate heir to the throne. When Celestia was deposed, they’d need her to avoid a likely civil war.

The young man stopped and wondered just when his mood had turned so black. Looking around, he saw again the cheer and merrymaking going on--and here he was, thinking of Torani’s first civil war as likely. Roughly, he patted at his cheeks before pinching and pulling. Yes, he was awake. Why, then, did reality feel so false?

Ignoring his own headspace as well he could, he pressed on. That could all wait. Right now, he had to make sure things were going well with Luna and Zecora. He wondered exactly where the pair were. Everyone was intermingled, with food, drink, and entertainment spread throughout the camp.

But despite the chaos of the camp, there was one sound, now that he was paying attention, that was entirely too constant.

A loud cry of voices, somewhat muffled by the rest of the camp, was chanting, “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

He sighed, both amused and dreading what he would see. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said, readying his belt as he headed towards the infirmary tent. That made sense, he realized--it was the largest clear space they had set up, thankfully empty.

It didn’t take long to reach the tent, or rather the gathered mass of Guardsmen surrounding it. They were still chanting, most holding their own bottles and scrappy tin mugs. It took some effort to be heard, but when he managed to catch the attention of a few of the men, they let him inside the circle.

There had been a great many preconceptions of Princess Luna that Lew had dismissed very quickly. He recalled swapping stories with his sister’s experience with Celestia--they had never fully agreed on which of the royal siblings were more unlike the public’s image. With Celestia, it was usually in regards to her tenacity and physical capabilities. She was a fighter herself, despite the constant diplomat of peace look so well known by everyone.

With Luna, it was a bit different. Everyone expected her to be rough and tumble; they knew of her fighting prowess, even of her slight disconnect with most people due to her isolated upbringing and being controlled by the traitor, Dorcas. The illusion was just how far she took it.

Most of it was fairly standard military fair, in Lew’s experience. A preference for male clothing, for civvies instead of more regal wear due to her position. A distaste for the finer things in entertainment and dining. Barring a few examples, Luna was fairly standard in that regards.

There were two areas in particular she pushed the envelope however. One was in her truly incredible combat talents. The other was in her capacity for drink.

Which was why, when he pushed through the circle to see his princess and their guest sitting across from one another from a simple wooden table, bottles of all sorts and shapes emptied in front of them, downing yet another to the cheers of the onlookers, he held no surprise and instead raised his own cheer. After all, he thought, why fight the fun?

Zecora reared her head back and loudly laughed on catching sight of the guard. She raised her glass and tapped at the empty container, silently gesturing for another. “Well look who’s come--our little Lew! Sit down with us and drink your brew!”

Lew was going to politely decline--the sheer number of bottles was somewhat intimidating--but a few shoves from the Guardsmen behind him, followed by a mixture of cheers and catcalls, made him reply, instead, “I’d love to, but I’m a bit behind you two.” He moved forward, pulling over another chair. To Luna he said, “Evening, Princess. I see you and Zecora hit it off, huh?”

With a gasp of satisfaction, Luna slammed down another emptied bottle and wiped at some running down her chin. “Oh very much so, Captain. Unlike you, she knows how to celebrate properly during times like these!”

He raised an eyebrow, giving a faked hurt look. “I had to shower, then post sentries, then ensure the supplies got around, then--”

“Oh do hush, Captain,” the princess said, sliding him a bottle. “This is cause for much joy! Drink! Relax, or you’ll bore us all to sleep.”

“It’s true, young soldier--drink your beer! There is no shame in relaxing here!” Zecora added as a man quickly moved over and handed her another cup. She extended it towards the Princess of the Night. “Seems we both have another round. Do you have the stomach to wash it down?”

“Uh, Zecora, I wouldn’t--” Lew tried to say before Luna let out a raucous laugh.

Hefting the cup, she cried, “I’ve bested every man who’s ever tried. Such a pretty thing as yourself won’t break that streak. The night is young, and the night is mine, so bring another!”

She smirked. “Within me, you’ll find a threat. Perhaps we can spice up the drinking with a bet?”

Lew choked on his drink, sputtering, “Y-you mean you’ve not been doing that already?”

The princess looked thoughtful. “You’re right--we were so enthused, we forgot to set the stakes.” She looked at the gathered crowd. “I suppose the obvious is some sort of childish game involving disrobing.” The crowd cheered their support for the idea. Luna wickedly smirked at Zecora. “But you and I can establish much stricter terms, I’m sure? As you are tonight’s guest of honor, I must ask: did you have something in mind?”

The tribal quirked a brow and coyly smiled. “The thought of you bare is quite the tempting one. Seeing your... battle scars is my idea of fun.” She put a considering hand to her chin and crossed her thighs. “Though as a rule along this coast, the plotting of entertainments go straight to the host.”

Rubbing her palms together eagerly, the princess gave a hearty laugh. “Never let it be said the Torani are ungracious to their guests, least of all Luna Orlaith. Now…” She rubbed her chin in thought, occasionally glancing at Lew. The gleam in her eye made him uncomfortable. “If I claim victory, you’ll take the frilliest outfit we have for a day. The captain here can borrow your own clothing, just to make sure.”

Lew sputtered, “W-wha—why d-do I—”

“Call it punishment for bringing an ally who doesn’t measure up, dear captain,” Luna replied, her tone brooking no refusal.

“Lew wearing this would be quite the sight!” Zecora announced cheerfully, running her thumbs behind the straps of her bra. She leaned forward, shaking her hand. “But I plan to win you tonight.” She pointed at the princess. “If I win this match of drinking brew, there is a plant I want from you. A flower with petals, a heartfelt blue--it is what you must accrue.” Zecora playfully winked over at the captain of the guard, looking quite pleased with herself. “I’m sure you know of the plant? Of why the Maidenlife I want Luna’s hand to grant?”

Instead of responding, Lew reached carefully to his satchel and pulled out the flower he had plucked a few days before. “This one, right?” he offered, setting the mostly intact bloom on the table. “Didn’t you say that was for—”

Zecora quickly interrupted him, reaching over to put a hand over his mouth. “That is the other part of this betting’s rule. Tell her its secret after I receive it, you fool.” She dropped her hand and her gaze turned cat-like and predatory as she stared intently at the woman seated across from her. “If it’s brought to me, I’ll consider it a sign. A creature of beauty I want to make mine.”

Lew was about to speak up, but Luna pounded the table hard, throwing a hand towards Zecora, and said, “Let the agreement be shook upon! I accept the terms, and declare the best warrior shall come out on top.”

“On top you say?” she repeated, grinning coyly and taking the woman’s hand. “I find that idea quite ok.”

Luna blinked, but shook it off as she shook Zecora’s hand vigorously. “Splendid! Men--more drink, double quick!”

A chorus of, ‘Yes, ma’am!’s roared painfully in Lew’s ears as he tried to stop what he felt was a situation spiraling quickly out of control. He looked at the native woman, grinning fiercely and making banter with Luna. Or was it small talk? It was hard to tell, between the dark tone of her skin and the already impressive amount of alcohol they had consumed, but he almost thought she was flushed with excitement.

Though he wasn’t sure if whatever was going on was a good idea, he had no choice to give it up. The princess was as stubborn as stone on the best of days--Zecora seemed just as hard, if not harder. Besides, he told himself, there was no telling what tomorrow would bring. With their newfound ally, Lew was feeling much better about their chances.

But even still, their information was too limited. And not only here in the Rim, he wondered what was happening back home in Torani. Though Luna needed to find assistance from abroad before returning, Lew feared they might be too late. If Celestia were able to unify all of Torani under her tyranny, fortifying its borders against invaders… Or worse, if she sent out forces to assassinate the dark princess before she could even return.

As fast as he could, Lew grabbed the nearest full bottle he saw. Twisting the cap off with one practiced stroke, he downed the whole thing, then grabbed another.

The last night to celebrate, he told himself. Make it count and worry about the fate of everything later.

After the third downed bottle, his men had brought the remaining stores of alcohol Zecora and he had captured. Moving it to a spot between the princess and the queen, Lew got up and placed an equal number of bottles in a line in front of both of them.

“Alright, men! Listen up and I’ll lay out some ground rules,” he declared loudly. “This’ll be speed and quantity. Rounds of four bottles each--we keep doing rounds until one of you can’t finish or fails to finish within two minutes of the other. Agreed?” He looked at each competitor in turn and received a nod. “Where’s our food?! I can’t judge on an empty stomach!”

As plates of steaming lizard-flesh were brought in, Lew scrounged up a stopwatch from someone and began the competition. The crowd of Guardsmen threw up their hands and cheered.

It was going to be a long night.

000

The room was moderately large. Too large for a simple living room, the table reaching from nearly one end to the other suggested it might have served as a dining room at one time. But whatever purpose it might have had before, it was being used for something very different now.

Instead of silverware, or perhaps plates of steaming hot dishes, the entire length was taken up by an enormous model. The rise and fall of craggy ridges was offset by stretches of wavy blue and smooth green; smaller models of trees were clumped here or there, nestled between grey monolithic cities and small, crooked blue river markers. On closer inspection, a few wooden huts seemed to mark various towns and villages nestled in the remoter corners of the model.

Lew realized it was a map of Torani when he saw Mansfield scrawled in a fine hand underneath one said village marker. With his realization, marks began appearing on it before his eyes. A barren, rocky plain would be starred then connected to the nearest city with a straight, dark line ending in an X. Grey blocks were dropped upon the surface and scooted, gathered, rearranged. Notes were scribbled along the lines, directing the blocks--which, he realized, represented troops, supplies, and armor.

They really were little more than scribbles, but Lew squinted and leaned close. They appeared and disappeared, moving, attacking, defending, jumping from place to place. He wasn’t able to catch any details, but after a moment, he leaned back and looked at a distance.

There. He could see a pattern emerging. Ignoring the various feints and softening attacks, the lines and notes seemed to be directing the flow towards the greatest concentrations of population before spreading out like a spider’s web and covering all. Tracing back, he found the magnificent crystalline piece they originated from. Glowing a sickly green but laced with cruel black, it was a perfect replica of Orleith Castle in Camelot.

The map began to be overtaken by a disgusting green fungus; tracing along the paths and following the scribbles to the letter, it spread and covered, growing and consuming the model one inch at a time. Too late, he noticed that it had spilled over in places, only to continue growing on the room’s floor.

He screamed, turning to run towards the door, but found there was no exit. The walls had turned from a pleasant burgundy wallpaper to gunmetal grey, solid and inescapable. And still the green grew on. It had devoured the table, breaking it down with splintering pops and an unnerving grinding sound--the rivers and lakes dried up and filled with mold; the forests were broken and shattered; the mountains milled to rubble, then dust.

Lew huddled in a corner, backing as far away as he could. His mind raced with questions. How did he get here? Where was he? What had happened to Luna and his Guard? Was… was this a dream?

A dream! He laughed, manic and panicky, as he began pinching himself, then hitting himself, then slamming his head against the wall. Why… wouldn’t… he… wake!?

Creeping, silent and deadly, the mold filled the room, crawling up the walls and along the ceiling, expanding to fill the entire space. Lew felt his lungs begin to burn, the room’s oxygen thinning fast. His pounding and thrashing slowed just as he felt the wetness of his own blood, splattered across the wall and dripping down his face. He slid down, leaving a messy trail, and fell into a gasping ball on the floor.

As the air ran out, he let out one silent scream, the mold stopping just before gathering and smothering him in a massive wave. Despite the pain and his lack of air, Lew threw a hand out, trying desperately--vainly--to save himself from the all-consuming parasite.

Launching up and out of his bed, Lew instinctively grabbed his sword, lying unsheathed and ready beside his pallet, and swung blindly. Fear and the lizard part of his brain craving survival filled the blow with more strength than he would ever use.

A painful shock against his arm and an ear-shattering clang brought the captain into full consciousness. He blinked several times, working the fuzziness of sleep out of them.

Before he could tell it was still too dark to see, he heard an amused laugh, followed by, “Terrors in the Night? How unfitting for my captain, don’t you think?”

“L-Luna?” Lew asked. “What’re you do--what time is it?”

“Early. Or rather, late,” she replied, telling him nothing. “We must away, captain. Or did you plan on standing here until dawn testing my sword arm?”

“What?” Looking, Lew saw he had grabbed his sword and swung at his imagined attacker. Luna had brought up her own--still mostly sheathed--and was holding him back, his blow aimed right for her exposed neck. She had a loose, relaxed grip on her sword, showing how terribly easy it had been for her to check his overpowered slice.

Lowering the weapon, he knelt and found his sheath. “Forgive me, lady. I drank far too much last night.” As if waiting for the cue, his head pounded and his body ached. He still felt a little tipsy, even--how long had he been asleep? He remembered something Luna had said…

“Did you say before dawn?!” he exclaimed.

Again her amused laugh. “About two hours, at my guess. But with the way this confounded Rim changes day to day, I may be off. No matter, we should have plenty of time to complete our task.”

“Our task?” Lew asked, his brain still trying to catch up.

“Are you so addled, captain?” Luna asked, tsking in disappointment. “You barely imbibed a third of what Zecora and myself managed. Such a shame we ran dry…”

As she berated him, Lew began recalling the previous night. He remembered the call for a drinking competition, which he had gotten dragged into. The princess and their guest, Zecora, had kept up with one another long after Lew had been forced to stop, lest he blackout. While they had finished the stores taken from the pirates, Zecora had snagged the last beer, and thus claimed victory.

He stiffened. “You mean the bet? To get that flower?”

“Just so,” she replied with a nod. “Let us be on with it, captain. The night is waning.”

Lew thought about all the reasonable responses he could give. He also wondered how his princess was even standing, let alone seemingly stone cold sober. Finally, he just rubbed at the sweat on his brow and began gathering up his clothes.

Quickly wrestling into his clothes, he picked up the all-enveloping cloak he’d made and began the tedious process of donning it.

Luna laughed. “Must you wear that ridiculous gown of yours?”

His voice was muffled by layers of cloth as he replied, “It’s not a gown, it’s camouflage! I don’t see why you can’t appreciate how effective it is.”

Luna sniffed. “Effective, perhaps. Tis still a gown. And it takes far too long to don. Swiftness, captain. We mustn't tarry.”

“I know, I know, I’m done. I still don’t understand why we have to do this now.” He began wrapping the long scarf-like mask around his face as they exited his tent. “Zecora said the flower was rather rare in this area. I know it’s probably one of the brightest bits of color on this island, but at night? It’ll be nearly impossible to find.”

The princess waved a dismissive hand. “A better challenge is merely a surprise treat. No, I have better reasons.”

“Better reasons?”

She nodded. “Quite. Frankly, captain, I’m bored. My blood cries for battle! Barring that, I think it will settle for some exploration.” She stopped, gesturing to the camp around them. “I have already commanded the camp moved to Zecora’s village. They need me not for such a trifle. In the meantime, you and I shall find this flower as we scout out the enemy.”

Nearly awake, Lew easily saw the sense. “OK, that I get. But, Princess…” How did he explain what the flower meant to Zecora’s people? I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, he told himself. “Aren’t we a little under-equipped?”

Giving him a flat look, Luna replied, “What a green question. How unsuitable. If your hands are not enough, then, by all means, visit the armory first.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lew grumbled, adding, “A sword hardly counts as your hands.”

In short order, he visited the so-called ‘armory’, grabbing one of the better spare handguns and his rifle. After a few seconds of consideration, he loaded a few throwing knives under his sleeves. Lew was terrible with them, but still--his instructor had always said you could never carry enough knives.

Finished, he rejoined the princess at the edge of the camp, where she had been performing a few warm up exercises.

“Sorry for the delay, Princess. I’m ready.”

She nodded, saying nothing, and headed into the jungle, Lew following.

It didn’t take long for both to work up a sweat. The night didn’t hold the heat like the day, but the humidity was still intense. Zecora had said it was signs of a massive storm brewing, likely before a cold snap rolled in. She had gone on to explain that the weather, while violent, was hardly unpredictable. Though she had tried to explain in more detail, Lew hadn’t been able to keep track of all the minute signs and omens. He hoped the storm would wait long enough for them to find the flower and Zecora’s village.

The sky was clear. He told himself that was a good sign. Luna’s namesake was a tiny sliver, leaving the night itself darker than he was entirely comfortable with. He moved as quick as he could, avoiding roots and rocks and other dangers, but he was quickly falling behind Luna. Maybe those rumors of her being able to see in the dark are true.

“Captain,” she called suddenly, stopping long enough to let him keep up. When he did, she moved on, but slower, so he could run next to her. “I must be open with you, Shields. I recruited you for another purpose: Your advice on what course we should follow.”

“You want to talk, Princess?” he asked, curious. Luna was always so confident in her own abilities and decisions; Lew had never seen her ask anyone else for an opinion on what she should do.

Nodding, she said, “You’re the Captain of my Royal Guard. You’re the only other soul I can talk to, in this situation.” Closing up, she pushed forward with a grim look on her face.

The pair moved on in silence, Lew waiting for his princess to speak rather than trying to drag anything out of her. He knew she must be fighting with her own pride. Ever since his sister and her friends had saved her from the traitor, Dorcas, she had been fighting years of training and skillful brainwashing to try and fit into Torani society. It was slow going, but she had made much progress until Celestia’s own betrayal.

Since then, she had been even more taciturn and slow to trust than before. What was worse, it had shaken her to the core--she had been the warrior princess. Celestia the diplomat. Now that seemed to have been turned on its head. Lew suspected it was harder for her than anything she’d done before and didn’t mind giving her her time.

They stopped at what seemed likely spots, both searching through the underbrush for any sign of the blue flower. After turning up nothing four times, Luna cleared her throat and, somewhat awkwardly, asked, “In all honesty, Captain, what would you do?”

“Me? Well, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, thinking. “Well, your Guard is still somewhat new. Well trained, but somewhat inexperienced. Combined with our persona non grata status in all of Torani and her closest allies, we’re about as dangerous to Celestia as a kitten. We need help, Princess. Badly.”

“As detestable as it is, I can see the wisdom in the statement, Captain. But from where?”

Hesitantly, he replied, “The only place we can go--Kvaan. Now, hear me out!” he cried at her heated and disbelieving look. “Rocky as relations have always been with them, the current Warlord was still more or less considered allied with Torani. The old Torani. Considering how they’re being set as the badguy in this whole mess, it wouldn’t take much convincing for them to back us up.”

“Or,” Luna said sardonically, “to bind us in irons and throw us to ransom.”

“It’s a risk,” Lew agreed,” but a calculated one. This is civil war, Princess. Working with a possible enemy is likely going to be the easiest risk to take in the coming days.”

Letting out a tired sigh, Luna finally gave a half-hearted nod. “Unfortunately, I sense you’re more right than you could possibly understand, Captain.” She started walking on, darting through the trees as they headed towards the coast. “I…” She hesitated, dumbfounding Lew. She never hesitated. But after a few more moments of silence, she went on. “I feel so tired, Captain. The seasons have barely cycled more than once since my homecoming--that is all the time I have been able to enjoy reuniting with my sister before...before her madness.”

Stopping, the princess let out a deep sigh. “Sir Shields, I was...happy. With my dear sister, and the others of the castle. And when your sister and her friends visited? All the opportunities they assisted me in adjusting to normal life…” She laughed, and it was true laughter. “Such fun as I had never known in all my life!” Then her face fell, and she was silent.

After seeing she couldn’t quite continue, Lew offered, “And then it all came crashing down. Celestia began acting strangely, taking the whole court with her. Even the city started changing. Twila and the others stopped visiting. All the good in your life, still so new, was pulled away.”

Closing her eyes, Luna gave a curt nod. “Indeed, Captain. Too true.” Lew knew he must be imagining the slight tremor in her voice, the hollow tone that marked a fighting of tears.

Feeling somewhat awkward, he quickly gave the princess a strong clap on the back, forcing out a laugh and saying, “Well, that’s what why we fight, right, Princess? To get it all back.” For a moment, she looked thoughtful, but then she began giving him a harder look as she noticed his arm still on her back. Nervously, he started walking forward, calling over his shoulder, “And the first step is this flower. It’ll be dawn soon, so we should probably get going, right?”

She began walking, replying, “Right you are, Captain. Lead the way for a spell--I grow weary of doing your job.” Her tone was back to its usual self--strong, somewhat superior, with a half-serious mock to push him harder. Lew was glad to see her back to her old self.

But for a brief moment, though it was too dark to be absolutely sure, Lew thought he saw a glimmer of pale light at the edge of her eye as she cracked a girlish smile.

The Pirate's Code

Mac awoke to the sound of heavy pounding at the door. He groaned, turning over and wrapping a blanket tightly around his body. “Jack, don’t hog the pancakes,” he grumbled, shutting his eyes once more.

“Oi! Get off your lazy arse right now before I put my boot up it!” shouted Darris, slamming harder against the door. “We’ve found her!”

That snapped him awake. He stumbled to his feet and moved to the door, tossing the chair he had blockaded himself in with to the side--he sure as hell didn’t trust these guys enough to sleep unguarded. He threw the door opened and stepped out on deck. “Where?”

“There, you big dummy.” Darris pointed into the distance, right ahead of them. It was dark, way too dark for Mac’s liking, but he could just make out tiny lights in the distance.

“They docked?”

“Looks like it,” Jim said, coming up to them. “We’ll come up close, then you do whatever crazy shit you gotta do.”

Mac nodded. “Lifeboat? Jus’ row on over?”

“That’s the plan. Darris.” He nodded to his companion, who began untying a small wooden boat from the ship, dropping it into the water. With a pair of oars, he went down, Jim following. “Climb in.”

Mac gave a small pat at his side for his gun then nodded, following after the two. Darris took a hold of the oars and moved them through the water with powerful strokes, his muscles bulging.
The closer they got to the ship, the more impressive it got. And for every bit it got magnificent, it became twice as terrifying.

“Alright,” the farmer whispered to the others. “We climb up the anchor line and keep quiet. Anyone on deck we either subdue or kill. Y’all follow?”

“Shit… we really doin’ this?” Darris questioned, looking up at the vessel. “Must be over a hundred guys in there.”

“Don’t mean shit if we’ve got surprise on our side.” Jim took a hold of the anchor line, grinning. “Which we do.” He shook the rope a little, gesturing to Mac. “You first.”

The giant of a man wordlessly nodded, taking the rope and giving it a small pull to make sure it was secure. Then, with a shrug, he began climbing, going hand over hand and using his feet to brace against the ships wall. He climbed until he reached the end of the rope and reached, struggling hard until he finally got his fingertips on the railing above the anchorline. A few tugs on the rope indicated that the others had followed. They quietly hopped on deck, daggers and guns drawn.

Mac scanned the area. On the starboard side was a guard, ideally watching the ocean. Mac swore, gesturing quickly to Darris and Jim, then to the guard. He ran a thumb across his neck. Jim nodded, then crept up to the man. In one swift motion, the guard’s neck was cut open, Jim’s hand over his mouth as he gently laid him down.

He nodded at their work, then gestured at the cabin’s door nearby. Mac pointed at the men and made a walking motion with his fingers and gestured around the deck, then pointed at himself, then towards the cabin doors. The two nodded, sticking close as they patrolled the deck, on the lookout for others.

Mac took a few careful, quiet steps towards the cabin and turned the handle, only to have it twist under his hand. The door flew open; he stumbled forward just as a knee slammed into his groin. His survival instincts kicked into high-gear. He blindly shoved his assailant back and reached into his pocket, pulling out his gun, just as he heard the ‘click’ of a spring. A knife sat a mere inch from his throat, as his gun was held tightly in his palm, ready to fire at a frame’s notice.

“Who the fuck are you?” a voice called to him. He glanced away from the blade and stared at the woman holding it, a woman with an expression so fierce and furious, it made every time Dash was upset look like child’s play. He could guess instantly who this woman was.

“Gilda. Captain Gilda,” Mac drawled out. She clenched her hand tight around the blade.

“No, you shitbird, what’s your name?”

“Ya have somethin’ that belongs ta me,” Mac drawled out, staring evenly at the woman.

“I’ve got a knife ready for your gut. Talk.”

“Yer forgettin’ who has the gun here,” the giant growled out.

“Try,” Gilda said. Before Mac could even react, she lunged forward; Mac twisted to the side as she thrust her blade--it cut through his shirt and left a superficial wound across his torso just as he fired a round that went wild--putting a hole in the wall and drawing a loud, panicked gasp from deeper inside. There was movement, the sounding of bedsheets being rustled.

“Aw shit!” Darris shouted, literally getting thrown across the deck. Will glanced between the two, his hand reaching for the pistol he kept at his side as he sprinted at an almost nightmarish pace towards Jim. He slapped the man’s gun away and grabbed him in one powerful hand, lifting him high in the air and squeezing tight on his windpipe.

“Drop it if you want your friend to live,” he said, not even glancing towards the other man. Darris rubbed his head, getting up from the broken barrels he found himself lying with. He crept up upon Will, dagger drawn, then raised his hand and plunged the weapon into Will’s shoulder blade.

He didn’t even flinch as the blade punctured into his dark flesh; rather he snapped his arm, cracking Darris across the mouth with the barrel of his pistol and dropping him to the floor. The sound of the rest of the crew getting roused from their sleep started to fill the ship as dozens of footsteps echoed throughout the decks.

“Bad choice,” Will said, holstering his gun and grimly pulling out the blade from his body. He threw it into the ground, embedding it inches away from Darris’s head. “If the captain’s injured, I’m skinning you alive,” he said in a low, menacing growl, not even a trace of jest in his tone.

Macintosh grabbed Gilda by the wrist and neck; he twisted and slammed her against the wall, shaking the blade free from her hand. “Where is she?” Mac barked, spittle flying from his mouth.

“R-right here, Mac,” Alice said, shaking slightly in her boots.

His expression died as he stared, almost unbelieving towards his sister. “Alice…” he quietly said, his grip relaxing on Gilda.

“Wh-what are ya…” she trailed off, staring between him and Gilda, sharing his disbelief. Gilda took advantage of the moment; she leaned forward, biting Mac on the nose and snapping her arm forward, cracking him in the throat. He stumbled backwards, clutching at his neck and gasping for breath. Gilda roared and jumped onto him, knocking him through the door and slamming him to the ground on the deck. “Mac!” Alice screamed, going after them.

Gilda cracked her fist across the man’s cheek, then struck again and again. With a grunt, Mac shot up and wrapped his body tightly against hers, stopping her blows. He squeezed harder, until he heard a hard, deep pop from Gilda’s body. She let out a choked gasp and struggled against his bear hug as he adjusted himself and rose to a knee.

The sound of dozens of footsteps rang across the deck and a deep, booming man’s voice called out.

“Let her go,” Will commanded. He marched towards the two, his gun raised in warning.

Alice bit her lip, watching the scene unfold. She took a deep, shuddered breath. “... do it, Mac.”

Mac swore under his breath, but relaxed his grip; Gilda took a gasp of air, coughing hard. She rose, looking down on the man. She snapped her leg forward, kicking him in the chest. Mac let out a gasp and clutched at his ribs.

“Fucker!” she shouted. Alice flinched.

Will walked to her. “You alright?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the man.

“Fine. Bastard just tried to kill me, is all.” She spat, landing it directly onto Mac’s face.

“I’m here fer the girl. That’s it,” Mac said, brushing the spit away with his palm. Gilda paused, realization slowly coming to her. She bit at a lip and glanced over at the kid again.

“Why would he want the girl?” one of the crew asked.

“He’s, er…” Alice gazed at the hard faces of the crew. She could lie, but look at where that got her? Plus, to lie in front of her kin… “Ma br--.”

“It’s obvious what he is,” Gilda said, glaring down at him. “What else would go after a girl that young?”

Mac turned red. He all but quivered in indignation at her words.

She gave a casual shrug. “He saw my protege at port and thought to himself, ‘Maybe I could stowaway and get a piece of that.’” Gilda crossed her arms and sneered. “Shame he didn’t realize what we do to stowaways.” Her hard expression briefly flickered as she met his eyes and glanced towards Alice. “All stowaways.”

The farmer wasn’t a fool by any means. Just because he didn’t speak often, that didn’t mean he was slow. He knew what Gilda was trying to hint at with the stowaway line. Why she was protecting the girl? He couldn’t say. But for now, he could only play along with her hints.

“Read me like a book,” he plainly replied, exhaling and glancing over towards Alice. “Ya know how ta train ‘em--I’m sure she’s a helluva student.”

“Er… sure am,” Alice said, scratching the back of her head. It was odd to see her brother lying to another person’s face, but if he was doing it, that probably meant it was free game to lie through her teeth.

“The best I’ve had,” Gilda said, sneering. “And you’re not touching her.”

“Reckon not.”

Gilda looked to her men, gesturing up. “And what do we do to men like that?”

“Hang ‘em!” someone called out.

“Quarter ‘em!” came another.

“Castrate ‘em!” A third. Gilda held up her hands, silencing the sailors.

“Why do that, when we can do the funner method?” She looked at Will, then stared hard northeast, for a good long while. Mac looked over her shoulder. There, in the distance, was the faint, misty vision of an island. Once she noticed Mac had looked where she had, she turned to her men. “How about walking the plank?”

A cheer went around the pirates at the idea, several took to wrapping their arms around one-another’s shoulders and laughing as Gilda stared at Mac.

Alice scrunched up her nose. “I thought that was jus’ somethin’ they did on cartoons…”

Will shrugged. On seeing everyone else was distracted, he quickly spoke in a hushed whisper. “It was either that, or a bullet in his skull.” The girl quickly fell silent after that.

“Get a board and some rope!” Gilda called out to the men. “We’ll have ourselves a little party!”

Several of the men ran downstairs to search for supplies, leaving only a handful on deck. Gilda walked over to Mac and stared at him.

“I’m doing what I can,” she said in a whispered hiss, jabbing a finger at him.

Before Mac could respond, she stomped back to the remainder of the crew, just as more returned to deck, a long board and a healthy length of rope around one of their shoulders.

“Tie ‘em up!” one called out. They approached, the rope at the ready.

“I’ll handle the tie-up, men! That’s an order!” Gilda called out, much to the disappointment of the crew. Will gave Mac a hard shove, pushing him towards the captain. Mac stumbled forward just as Gilda grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along towards the boat’s deck.

Alice wasn’t watching; it was too frightening to see her brother being treated like that, and yet… something felt off. Given Will’s words and how Gilda had acted towards her recently, plus the fact she was doing the tying, it seemed fairly reasonable to assume that maybe she was giving Mac a chance. That might’ve made her smile, were it not for the fact that this would probably be the last time she’d see him. And she couldn’t even say goodbye, lest she arouse suspicion.

Gilda led Mac up to the plank, a pistol aimed squarely at his back.

“March,” she spat.

Mac stepped up to the plank and took a few slow, shuffling steps forward, flexing and wiggling the arms tied behind his back in a desperate bid to free himself.

“March,” Gilda spat out again.

He took another step forward, pausing for only a moment to look apologetically over at his sister. Gilda gave him but a second before raising the pistol and bringing it crashing down on his back. He didn’t even flinch at the strike, but did walk a few more half-hearted steps toward the edge of the plank. Sucking in a quick breath, he stepped off.

Alice reached for him, held in place only by her own survival instinct. Will grimaced, putting a hand on her head as they heard Mac hit the water and sink like a stone.

Medicine Woman

The village was a secluded thing, hidden in brush on one of the most isolated areas of the world. The villagers themselves were simple people for the most part. Wise in their own ways of the land and how to survive in one of the most deadly islands known to man, yet naive on many of the goings on tied to the rest of the world.

Zecora was wise in many ways the others were not.

Her father was the chief before her, as was his father before him, and as such, they were required to aspire to even greater heights of knowledge than the normal men and women of her tribe. Her father’s father traveled, bringing dozens of books back to her tribe. Her father became one of the strongest warriors the tribe had even seen, and one of the best trackers since the days before them all, and the legends shrouded in mystery, names and allusions to their accomplishments the only trace of her people from then. Herself? She walked many paths in her time. She stood proud as a warrior, as a scholar, as a medicine woman. There was one path she had not walked yet, however.

A woman carrying a large clay jar upon her head walked past Zecora, saying a greeting in their rhyming, gentle-toned tongue. Zecora smiled and returned the greeting, before walking with purpose to a small straw-coated house made of bamboo shoots. She entered, speaking a small apology to a weary old woman wrapped in shawls. The woman responded in kind, apologizing somberly for wasting the tribal chief’s time. Zecora shooed her concerns away with a gentle brush of the older woman’s hair, speaking in a gentle coo to reassure her. She moved over to the old man on the bed.

His true name was lost to Zecora and had been for years. When she was a child, the other children and herself called him Babi Babo. Babi meaning grandfather, which he was to several of the children in flesh, and all of the children in spirit; Babo for baboon, which he reminded them of with his wide nose and unkempt silver-grey hair.

He took in several shallow, phlegm-filled breaths, hacking and turning toward her, his rheumy eyes taking her in before a hand reached to her, brushing her hair to the side, and running a thumb over one of the hundreds of scars her body held, each a testament to her people. He leaned back onto the bed and spoke quietly the woman’s name. She made her way over to Zecora and Babi, and Babi weakly, weakly gestured for her to come closer. She leaned over to his mouth, her ear almost resting against his lips. Zecora felt a small pang of empathy grace her, reminding her of the path she herself had not taken yet, but otherwise showed no outward emotion.

On finishing, he shut his lips and closed his eyes. The woman stepped back, biting one of her knuckles as he took in Babi’s emasculated body and Zecora stepped forward, knowing what she needed to do.

She spoke the quiet chants of her people as he lay upon the bed. From what she had gathered, there was a similar ritual to the people who followed Elondrie’s light. She never bore witness to it, but from her studies, it seemed true.

Zecora reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small mortar and pestle. She mixed a collection of green a black herbs together, her quiet chanting and the grinding of the stone the only sound in the hut. When the herbs were ground into a fine powder, Zecora added a dab of water and stirred the concoction until it was a thick black paste. She took two of her fingers in it and trailed them over Babi’s sunken cheekbones, leaving two parallel lines. Zecora then added more water to the mixture, giving it the consistency of soup, which she brought to Babi’s mouth.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded, swallowing the mixture. Babi clenched his teeth, shut his eyes and gave one hard convulsion, before laying still, breathing no more.

Zecora shared a look with his wife, putting an arm around her wispy frame for a moment, speaking quiet condolences to her loss. When the old woman finally had the strength to stand on her own, Zecora gave her a gentle peck on the cheek to comfort her and left the tent. She passed by a few of the younger boys at camp. She told them about the body, then went right away to remove it. Babi would be buried by his father, at the western edge of the village.

Moving back to her own home, she entered and lit dozens of herbs with a weak, small flame she made with a quick brush of her knife over a flint. As the aroma filled the room, she sat, cross-legged on the dirt and reached for a small clay bowl filled with a fine white powder. Zecora chanted a familiar tone to her, a requiem for the dead, and brought the blade close to her body. Without hesitation, she drew the blade across a thigh, drawing blood. As it lazily fell down her dark skin, she took a thumb, licked it, then coated it with the powder, before wiping it across the cut. In a matter of seconds, the wound closed up, leaving behind another white lined scar on her body to match the dozens, almost hundreds of others on her, each a reminder, each a name the chieftain was obligated to carry and know. Every part of her dedicated to her tribe and its well-being.

She stood, walking to her makeshift bed, and lay down on it, briefly acknowledging its size. Her father was a larger man than her, and that left the bed far more empty when she was on it.

No, that is not quite right, she thought. It is only truly empty at night.

Zecora stared up at the ceiling, a hand opening and shutting one of the buttons on her jacket. The woman--the Princess, as the man Lew was quick to state--had intrigued Zecora. There was no speaking against that. She carried herself well. Like a true warrior. Honest, uncompromising, brave. In many ways, Zecora saw parts of her father when she gazed at the princess.

Well, there were other parts of the woman that drew her attention as well…

Zecora brushed that thought away, though it admittedly lingered far longer than she cared for it to. But at the same time, how could she just throw those thoughts to the side? Their entire people were one of the most intriguing things that had happened to their island for a long time. The pirates, there had always been men like that. Her father had said to her once that there would always be vultures, beasts that prey on weakness. They came before, and would come after. But the others? The men who sought solace on her people’s island? They were something unusual for these lands. They intrigued her. She intrigued her. And if the island and its bounties were hers and her peoples, then so too should the princess be hers. Provided she strived for her, that is. It was not different than hunting, when Zecora put it in perspective. Their Luna was like a jungle cat, piercing eyes and deadly claws. Yet also a certain deadly sensuality to her as well. Grace in motion and beauty at rest.

Zecora chuckled at her own analogy, the mental image doing well to take her thoughts away from Babi, at least for the moment. She rose, and left her hut to breath in the morning air by the town’s fire.

From the north came the murmur of dozens of villagers, their speech frantic, urgent as they seemed to run in every direction. Zecora hesitated for only a moment, briefly considering the spear in her hut, before forgoing it and rushing to her people.

000

The trip to Zecora’s village was quiet, but tense with an atmosphere that was half curious excitement and half trepidation at what was to come. Lew was glad for this--twice he had made a mistake in his nervousness, losing the path Zecora had explained to him. Thankfully, the princess seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts to comment, if she even noticed.

The path drove on more or less parallel to the coast, passing from the rocky, open ground into the strange woods that seemed so randomly distributed on the island. It became easier there, as a clear path had been made, twisting and turning this way and that. On the other side, they came to much larger hills, which slowed them down, making them work up quite a sweat in the increasing heat.

From the top of the hill, Lew could easily make out the signal that led to the hidden village. A lone tree, scorched and broken from a bolt of lightning, pointed the way, but looked as if it simply had fallen in the spot naturally.

Down the hill brought to view a break in between the rocky sides of another. It was through this passage that Zecora had said her village lay. And after they passed through, it was here Lew got his first look at the place, surrounded by the wall behind them and the high brush all around.

It was a strange thing in a way, something so orderly existing amidst the chaos, but that’s truly what the village was, a safe haven against the chaos outside the natural walls. Circular, with huts at regular, almost clocklike intervals, some traditional things made of straw, grass and wood that reminded Lew of a few bits and pieces of information he had read in his studies, and others made from improvised materials, sheets of metal, bits of rope tying it together, straw for insulation. Children chattered in their native tongue in a corner nearby, splashing at a water pump that had seen its fair years of use. Up ahead at the center of the village was a large bonfire, a place of community where many of their meals were cooked, and where many celebrations happened during the colder seasons, according to Zecora’s words.

It was all very quaint and homey, in a real, unique way, not the tacky and manufactured way that so often brought about those words. However, it didn’t take long before Lew noticed something odd.

“Where is everyone?” he asked suddenly, realization kicking in.

“If I am not mistaken, I believe I hear a large gathering at the other end of the village,” replied Luna, continuing forward in the direction she’d indicated.

They rushed between homes and quickly saw a crowd formed around one of the largest buildings in the village. It was mostly comprised of people of the same dark complexion as Zecora--these turned and looked at Lew and Luna for just a moment before they let them pass--but Lew also saw his men scattered amongst them. He stopped when they neared the entrance, pulling one to him.

“Raleigh, report. What’s going on here?”

With a quick salute, the middle-aged man said, “I’m not entirely sure, sir. None of us saw nothin’, and these fine people speak the damndest tongue. But one o’ the men says they found somethin’, carried it here. Or maybe a pirate scout.” He spit at the ground. “That one lady--Zecora--said we should let you and the princess in when you arrived.”

“Good man.” He clapped the soldier on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you all what’s up in a moment. Lady,” he said, bowing his head to Luna as he stood aside so she could enter first.

Taking the hint, Luna complimented the soldier as she entered, Lew hot on her heels. The inside was large, spacious, as it was just one room. Heavy shades on the window kept the hot sun out, with slits at the top to allow heat to escape. Three different fireplaces suggested their solution for when the weather turned cold.

All along the back wall were low beds, with grass walls that could be moved between them. Lew wasn’t entirely sure what the place could possibly be used for. It was too large for just a home, and there was little more than the line of beds.

“A hospital,” Luna said quietly. “Something of a surprise, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

“Yeah it’s—” he started to say when Zecora’s voice said, “Come my friends, please be a dear, I’d like to see you over here.”

The pair found her standing next to one of the beds. Which, as they approached, they found was occupied by a very large man. Lew blinked. The man almost looked like…

“No! It’s not… There’s just no way,” he said, rubbing at his forehead, a grin splitting his face.

“Is there something that you’d like to say? The emotions on your face betray,” Zecora remarked, her hand working a mortar and pestle easily as she walked along the bed and took stock of the two.

“He… seems familiar to my recollection, yes,” said Luna, curious. “And he is no native. Nor pirate.”

“That’s because he’s a farmer,” Lew said, matter-of-factly. “His name is Macintosh Apple--you remember Jack Apple? This is her older brother. Big Mac, everyone calls him.”

“Oh yes! The big Apple, I remember seeing him during one of my visits. A very quiet sort, but by all accounts a noble soul.”

“‘Big’ you say, is quite true, I say. His height is as obvious as the day.” Zecora put a finger into the mixture she was stirring, and put a small dab to her tongue. She nodded, then moved to the back wall and added a small vial to the mix and stirred it. Zecora dipped her finger into it again and put it into her mouth before nodding once more.

“So what in Elondrie’s name is he doing her?” Lew asked. “It makes no sense.”

“Do not ponder when you have an answer-filled up,” Zecora replied. “Simply ask when I wake him up.”

“How long has he been out?”

“Since you and your princess went away. If I had to estimate, I’d say midday.”

“Indeed?” Luna said, raising a curious eyebrow. “That seems interesting timing. Perhaps there is something more to this than just odd happenstance.”

Lew nodded. “I’m incredibly curious, myself.” He nodded at Zecora, saying, “We appreciate this, Zecora.”

“Is it not custom within your lands, to aid and provide a near-drowned man?” She quirked a brow, then brushed a dismissive hand in front of her. “I simply jest. My humor may be dry, as my tribe can attest.”

“I think he simply means that a little caution in these uncertain times would not be out of line,” explained Luna. “But perhaps our own recent troubles have made us think too practical.”

“A pragmatic life is one hard to do,” she replied, glancing over to Luna. “I’ve experienced it, believe me you.”

“As have I,” replied Luna quietly.

The captain looked from the tribal warrior to his princess, curiosity on one and the shadow of the past on the other. He forced out a small laugh, saying, “Well, I for one can not wait any longer. You were going to bring Mac around, you said?”

“Indeed,” Zecora agreed. “Let’s return him from the dead.”

She took the fine powder she had crafted and placed it in a modestly ornate dish. Thumbing through her jacket, she produced a worn, dinged lighter, which she flicked on after several attempts. She held the flame underneath the dish, and soon the room was filled with a peculiar scent of ammonia and ginger. She held the dish under Macintosh’s nose. The large man twitched, then inhaled deeply, snapping awake and coughing at the harsh scent. Zecora flicked the lighter shut and put the dish on a side table next to the bed. Mac weakly rose to a side, resting on an arm as he tried to get his bearings. Finally free from the dumbness of sleep, he looked around him.

“Where…?” he drawled out, clutching at his head.

“I’ll leave you three to talk,” Zecora remarked. “Your princess can tell me the details later during a walk.” With that, she sauntered past the two and left outside.

Macintosh finally rose to a full sit. Taking just a moment to think, he then threw his legs over the side of the bed and rose, only to stumble down to a knee.

Lew, expecting nothing less, rushed forward and offered the farmer his shoulder, saying, “Whoah there, Mac, easy. Get back on the bed for a bit.”

Mac took it and hoisted himself up and back on the bed. After another moment to collect his thoughts, Mac let a snort of humor out. “All sorts of damn questions. Like they’re bottleneckin’ in my skull.” Taking another breath he looked at the two. “I guess I should ask where I am first. An’, uh, excuse me fer not bowin’, princess. I ain’t never been good at rememberin’ formalities.” He narrowed his brow. “Nah, hell with where I’m at, either of y’all seen Alice?”

The captain looked to Luna, who simply shrugged. Turning back to Mac, he said, “Alice, your youngest sister, right? Surely… Are you feeling alright, Mac? I don’t see any head wounds, but you never know.”

“I suspect he’s made of tougher stuff than that,” said Luna, amused. “You said it yourself, Captain—him being here makes little sense. But if he was on a quest after a missing Apple?”

“It would answer that question, yeah. Is that why you’re in the Rim, Mac? Is Alice here, too?”

The man nodded. “It’s a hell of a long story. Things back on the mainland have gotten worse. A lot worse.” He stared at Luna. “Yer sister’s nuttier than squirrel shit.”

Lew winced, expecting an angry tirade. But Luna laughed, and laughed hard. He simply stared; it was unusual, to see that much mirth on her face.

“That is certainly—” The princess started between laughs. “Certainly a unique way of describing it. Oh do not look so mortified, Captain. Can we possibly disagree? There is no other explanation save that my sister has taken leave of all her senses.” Her laughing fit quieting, she told Mac, “I had hoped she might come free of it but… I see our lack of information is even worse than we suspected.”

“Mac, my sister… How is she?” Lew asked, worried.

“She’s with mine, Twila’s—” Mac started to tell Lew what they had been doing for the last few months, but decided to stop himself, wanting to ease Lew’s concern. “She’s fine. Keepin’ her head ducked low, like all of us. Save fer my lil’ sister.”

“I told you it was foolish to worry, Captain. Your sister is perhaps more capable than all of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Yeah, she is. Well, Mac, we’re not really going anywhere for now, so if you don’t mind telling us what’s going on, maybe the Guard can give you a hand.”

“Alice got it inta her head ta try and find Luna, so she snuck off while we were all sleepin’, an’ came down here lookin’ fer ya.” He pursed his lips. “Somehow, pirates got involved with her.”

“There’s little else around here, I’m afraid,” said Lew. “But damn--she managed to get all the way down here on her own? That’s impressive. And a fair bit scary.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” Mac said. “I managed ta find her by accident, but, well…” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “I couldn’t get her off the ship. They ended up bootin’ me inta the ocean an’ I got washed ashore. Got lucky. Real lucky.”

“I’ll say. They dropped you off the coast of probably the only inhabited island in the entire Rim. This small tribe are the ones who found you--we only just got here, ourselves.”

“Those pirate fellas know yer here, I take it?” Mac crossed his arms, frowning a bit as he glanced to the side.

“It has been a harrowing time for us,” replied Luna. “They seem to think I am worth no small amount of reward to my sister. Thankfully, they are fools, especially to the Captain’s well-disciplined Guard.”

“We’ve been lucky just as often as not,” Lew said, grimly. “It’s not a situation I’d like to perpetuate for too much longer. We’re actually going to take the fight back to them soon, now that the locals here are on our side.”

“Locals?” Mac repeated. “On the Rim?”

“I know, I found it hard to swallow at first myself. But it’s true--one even speaks our language thanks to an old Elondrie missionary. The pirates have apparently been using them for sport while they look for us.”

He shook his head. “An’ what are ya gonna do when they find ya? There a plan?”

“The plan, my large Apple, is to no longer play this game of cat and mouse.” Luna put on a wicked grin. “Tonight we discuss specifics, but the goal is already known: We shall take the fight to the pirates, and return to our homeland so that we might save it.”

“Count me in,” Mac replied, putting a hand to his neck and twisting his head until he heard a satisfying pop come from his body. “I’m gonna have ta fight through ‘em ta get Alice back anyway, an’ I reckon yer gonna need all the hands ya can get.”

“Your assistance is gladly accepted, Apple. You should rest for now, but you will be invited for our planning later this evening.” Turning to Lew, she said, “I shall go to our host and report my success. I’ll trust the men to you, Captain.”

Saluting, he replied, “Yes, my lady! We’ll be ready.”

“Very good.” And with that, she left the building, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Don’t worry, Mac. We’ll get your sister back and see you both home safe.”

“I’m countin’ on you an’ yer boys ta do jus’ that,” Mac replied. “Savin’ her is the only thing that matters right now.”

“I understand,” Lew said, quietly. “Well, you rest up. I’m going to check on the others. I’ll come get you when it’s time to plan.”

“Eyup.” Mac nodded, leaning back on the bed and shutting his eyes. He frowned a bit at how his feet hung over the base of the bed, but said nothing, his only thoughts on the matter homesick ones, where he had a bed that fit him and the world was, if not safe than at least safer.

Strange Bedfellows

Zecora sat by the fire, a whetstone in her dexterous hands. She brushed it along her spear’s tip, humming to herself as she performed upkeep on the weapon. The knife she carried had already got its treatment and had a thin coat of oil applied to it and the leather sheath she wore. Zecora gave a gentle blow across the weapon, content with one side. She swapped hands and once more angled the blade’s edge, sending the stone across it a few times before deeming her treatment good.

A knock, short and strong, came from her door. Unsurprisingly, it was followed by the princess’ voice, saying, “I’ve come to settle the challenge between us, if you have a moment to spare.”

Zecora quirked a brow, resting her spear against the wall. “A challenge you say? Enter, friend, without delay.”

Luna entered, closing the door behind her as she tossed something on a table next to the native. “I believe this sufficient to meet your requirements?”

She looked over to the table and paused. There before her was a delicate, beautiful blue flower. Zecora laughed.

“You did well, this I must say. Seeing this flower has made my day.”

“It certainly was not the easiest to acquire. But nothing so invigorates as a climb up a waterfall. It has been many years since I’ve done something so… adventurous,” replied the princess as she found a chair and sat. “Twas fun, I readily admit. So you have my thanks.”

“I’m pleased to hear you loved seeing it through.” She gave her next words some thought as she cupped her elbow in her hand. “Though I must admit, I had an… ulterior motive too.”

“Captain Shields’ strange behaviour hinted as much,” Luna replied, grinning. “I couldn’t let him know I was in on it, however. That would have spoiled the fun!” She raised a hand as a friendly gesture, saying, “May I enquire as to the nature of said motive?”

“All right.” She returned the grin and put a hand in her pocket. “Princess Luna. The flower is a wedding rite.” Zecora held up a hand quickly. “Though a bit too quick for that action, I say. Rather, I just wanted you to know I like your…” The tribal woman looked the princess over and gave a shrug of a shoulder. “Sway.”

Tilting her head to the side and resting it against her palm, Luna said and did nothing else, but simply looked into Zecora’s eyes. After a few moments of silence, she said, “Well, that is certainly new, I must admit.” Straightening her back to sit upright in the chair, she returned Zecora’s head-to-toe look. “Coming from you, I find that rather flattering.”

Zecora laughed, a deep and throaty thing, and returned farther in the room, sitting on the end of her worn and spartan bed. “Your reply makes me laugh, I must admit. You’re acting like people fawning for you is new, a bit.”

“With a sister like mine, it certainly is,” Luna said. “I was not one the lords--or ladies, for that matter--sought out. For some, surely, it was the fact that I would not inherit the throne. But most found my personality too… non-standard. The frills, the etiquette, the so-called ‘class’... I never could find much patience for it.”

“I rather find that admirable. A dislike of ‘frills’ as you say simply seems practical.” She tapped her temple to illustrate her point. “Skill with a blade and also a gun. Neither of these traits can be outdone.” Then, glancing over to Luna, she added as she lifted a leg up to her thigh and held it with her arms. “Unless we count perhaps your smile. That is a trait that cannot be reviled.”

“Cease, or I may blush! Truly, it is too much.” Luna laughed again, then rubbed her chin in thought. “So a marriage rite, was it? I can see the reasoning, certainly. A physical challenge to show true devotion. Though I’m assuming this flower can be found elsewhere? Not all are cut out for a climb of that magnitude.”

“Of course not all exist on a peak. There are a few for even the meek.” She tilted her head, letting her heavy hoop earrings slide alongside the motion. “Upon the mountains, even within the sand, they can be found here, far and wide within our land.”

“Fascinating. Out of curiosity, have you made the climb yourself?”

“River water I have drank, sand I have clutched, there is no place in my world I have yet to touch.”

“This could be, as they say, poorly timed. But certainly, I find your interest curious, if nothing else.” A wicked grin crossed the princess’ face. “I am not one to say ‘no’ to any sort of challenge, no matter how new.”

Zecora shared the same nearly predatory grin. “Your interest it seems I have accrued. I am pleased to see your warrior’s spirit shine through.”

“I’ve always found it only truly shines when faced with an adversary of equal might. And even then, it is best after much… vigorous testing.”

“‘Testing’ you beseech?” She chuckled, rising off of the bed. “Very well, I would be happy to teach.”

000

Hours later, ignoring his questions of where she had been or what she had been doing, Luna commanded Lew to bring his lieutenants to the medical house where Big Mac was still resting. The tribe was preparing them a sumptuous dinner, which they could enjoy as they planned their next moves. Lew had been pleased to see his men had fit in nicely, setting up watches and generally showing their organization and training without getting in the way of the locals. The two groups--both fascinated by the other but unable to truly communicate--had been approaching one another with curiosity the entire time.

The captain and his men approached the house as the last light of day faded to the now-familiar sky speckled night sky. Around them, the village was celebrating their guests. The strong smell of both flame-cooked meat and powerful drink filled the air. The only thing missing, thought Lew, was music. Though there was a good reason that was the case.

Opening the door, inside he found most of the smells of the outside were absent. Of course, he thought, it’s a hospital. But it wasn’t like modern hospitals back home, with their sterile, flat air of caution and worry. This was a place for healing. It was calm, healthy, and full of life--not standing on the precipice of death, but merely subdued, resting to find strength.

Inside, Big Mac was in bed still, propped up and digging steadily into a meaty stew. Sitting beside the bed were Zecora and the Princess. He and his men took chairs on the other side of the bed.

“Good evening, Captain,” said Luna. If Lew didn’t miss his guess, she seemed in exceptionally high spirits. And for the first time in a long while relaxed.

It was rather odd, but he decided not to comment on it, simply returning the greeting as they waited for Mac to finish his meal. More than one stomach rumbled in anticipation of their own.

He ate methodically, blowing on the stew, waiting for a moment, then taking the spoon and eating its contents, before repeating the process. In front of his family, he’d be wolfing this down without a second thought, but here he at least tried to show a bit of manners.

“Good stuff,” he said to the people present, before going back to his meal, oblivious to the shared glances of the others as he worked on the stew.

“So,” Lew said, clearing his throat, “shall we begin?”

“Yes, that would probably be wise,” replied Luna. “We shall require all the rest possible, to follow through with our plan.”

“Speak of your plan,” Zecora said. “For all of our sakes, I hope it is grand.”

With a nod from his princess, Lew explained, “Grand might not be the right word. But effective? Oh yes. Basically, we need to leave. That’s all there is to it. The longer we stay here, the better the chances the pirates will get lucky. And, after what Big Mac has been telling me, our country needs us--specifically Luna. With all the allies she can bring with her.”

Zecora humed in thought. “Not to ruin your plot with a rip, how are we to leave without a ship?”

“Well, that’s the danger,” he admitted. “We’ve as many ships as we can appropriate at our disposal. We just have to take them from the pirates, first. Which, really, might not be too difficult. You and I have taken a small crew by ourselves. With my entire Guard, backed by any willing and able warriors of your own people, we should be able to commandeer a large enough vessel to get us all safely back to the mainland.”

He got up and began to pace. “So far, we’ve only played defensively. But between our two peoples, I think we can take the fight back to them. They’d never break off a single ship large enough to attack us directly--but your people? I think they’d bite at that. And we’d be waiting to bite back.”

“You remain, hidden in the shade. Then when the time’s right, strike like a blade.” Zecora nodded. “You have the blessing of me and my clan. When you are ready, we shall act out your plan.”

“And in return, you shall be welcome allies of Torani. And a new home granted to you, safe and secure, with the pirates kept well at bay by the vigil of the Torani navy,” swore Luna.

“If your princess decrees it, then it’s surely a must. Her words are truly things you can trust,” she replied with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow, running a hand through her hair.

“So it’s agreed, then,” said Lew. “And you, Mac?”

“I ain’t leavin’ without my sister,” he sternly replied, finally pushing his empty bowl away from him. One of the villagers quickly moved to take it, and promptly left. “So unless yer plan involves lookin’ round fer her, I ain’t sure how much I can help.”

“We’ll be tackling pirate ships. Maybe even the one she’s on. And…” He paused, thinking about his next words. “Well, depending on the ship we get--who knows? Knock them into a strong enough state of disarray and we might be able to take them all down.”

“Hell.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I’m in, but I’m gonna find her, one way or the other.”

Luna took one of the big man’s hands in hers. “As a citizen of Torani, it is my duty to see her come to no harm. The Captain must be cautious, it is his duty. But this is mine. We will rescue her.”

“Thank you, princess,” Mac said, placated at her oath. “I’ll trust ya.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Lew. “We’ll send scouts in the morning, more than before. I think it best if we watch them for a day or two, try to see exactly what their movements are, find the best place for our attack. Or attacks--it might take more than one try to get a ship large enough for our needs.”

“Then we should retire to rest,” Zecora said. “Tomorrow we shall be put to the test.”

Miscommunication

Alice watched as a sweaty, fat and heavily tattooed pirate tinkered with a battered radio, twiddling the knobs with his thick fingers. The radio whined with static for a while, before finding a fairly stable equilibrium.

He turned, facing Gilda. “S’patched in, Cap’n,” he said, gesturing to the equipment.

She nodded, reaching forward to pick up a headset, which she held to an ear, placing the Yes, mouthpiece to her lips.

“Captain Almada reporting into the party,” she said with disinterest.

“‘Almada’ sounds weird.” Alice remarked.

She gave an exasperated glance over to Alice. “No shit?” she dryly questioned. “Would you rather it be ‘Smith?’ Shit like that?”

“Just sounds kinda fancy…” the girl mumbled, putting her hands in her pockets. Gilda rolled her eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered, a bit more polite, but only a hair. “We don’t get to pick our last names, kid.”

Alice snorted, tightening her hold over her pockets, but speaking out nonetheless. “Yer gonna listen to the radio or are ya keep goin’ on yappin’ with me?”

“Fuck off,” she snapped, returning her focus to the radio, where several other men seemed to be reporting in.

“Captain Cortez, reporting in,” a gruff voice stated.

“Captain Ross, here,” a woman stated.

“Captain Albert Alexander, ready,” another called.

Another half dozen or so names called over the system. Despite herself, Gilda was impressed. With all the interference the Rim normally produced, even localized systems--like the one they were using--tended to only go so far. That so many different ships were tied into the broadcast and still steady and clear showed some signs of some major hardware in play.

“So we’re all here, huh?” the last one, another voice, ancient and authoritative in his tone, addressed.

“Sounds like it, Admiral Forthright,” Gilda answered.

“Most pleasing,” he said. Gilda rolled her eyes, a scowl on her lips mimicking the word. He went on. “We’re readily approaching the final stages in this profitable venture. Captains Cortez and Kmov—report on the status of the last independent vessels.”

Gilda tuned out as the various reports were made. It seemed like they were very close to being the only power in these waters—and thus the only group who would benefit from the Princess Luna’s capture. One by one, every independent captain had been sunk or joined flag under one of the others.

“As expected,” Gilda said, turning to glance at her crew. “You either run with the group, or get stomped out. Just like everywhere else.”

“Excellent,” said the Admiral. “I am most pleased to hear that. It would not do to repeat past mistakes.” There was a dark and poignant pause. They all knew what the Admiral did to those who disappointed him. “Once we are all in place and in formation, those Guard fools won’t know what hit them. And so many of you expressed doubt at my plan and leadership.”

Gilda glanced at everyone nearby and cocked a thumb out at her own chest. “And some of us still do,” she said to her crew, making sure she didn’t broadcast that over coms.

“But I remind you that, taken individually, none of your crews could tangle with an experienced Royal Guard regiment.” The Admiral’s voice was stern, but in a paternal sort of way. “Together not only will we capture the wayward princess, but the seas will tremble at our might.”

There was a general chorus of agreements and hurrahs. It turned Gilda’s stomach.

The Admiral went on. “Scouting ships. That’s Ross and Alexander, yes? How close are we to the target?”

“We’re looking at two days transit at the most, before we rendezvous with Captain Almada, who is just about on top of the bitch.”

Gilda figured that was her cue. “I’m parked within view of the island’s shore. Have been for a few hours now.”

“And what else can you report? Are the natives pacified?”

“They’re primitive, but adaptable,” Gilda said. “Seemed to be scavengers, they’ve killed some of my men I sent as scouts the last time I was here. But it seems to be just a handful of their tribe, for lack of a better word. I’ve seen a few of the rest of their group as they were gathering berries and shit, and they seem mostly harmless. Old ladies and kids.”

“I didn’t ask for a damned book report, Captain,” snapped the Admiral, angry. “All I want to hear from you is that they have been eradicated.”

Gilda cupped a fist in front of her mouth and shoved her tongue to her cheek, then moved her hand back in forth in tedium while pushing her tongue against the wall of her mouth for a moment at his words, then caught the second part of his response.

“Eradicated?” she repeated. “Did you hear the part where I said they were mostly harmless? I bring them enough trinkets and they’d give Luna to us.”

Faintly, the intake of breath could be heard over the line from some of the other captains. After another clear moment of silence, the Admiral said, “Are you questioning my orders, Almada? You yourself said they’ve managed to kill some of your scouts--not to mention that just this morning I’ve been told the Guard unit moved their camp. If the natives have decided to shelter them, they are our enemy and shall be crushed”—there was a loud bam, as he slammed his hand onto the table; loud enough to make Alice jump—”beneath our heels.”

“Real big man, ready to stamp on kids to get to where he needs to go,” Gilda replied, crossing her arms and mouthing the word cocksucker to her crew. She dryly smirked, brushing her hair back. “Let me tell you something, Admiral, I see any of those Guard fucks? They’re wasted before they can breathe. But you get someone else to take care of spear-chuckers who can’t even lift their weapons. The Almada family still has at least a bit of honor left in them.”

“Honor? Honor?! It sounds more like insubordination!” shouted the Admiral. “You’ve always had a willful attitude, too stuck in your own head by a long shot. I’ve let it go before in respect for your ability. So just for you, Almada, you get this one chance to tell me the right answer when I give you your orders. Eliminate any and all obstacles to our goal--in this case, that means those worthless barbarians. Do I make myself clear?”

Gilda glanced over at Alice before muttering a quiet, short, “Aye-aye, sir.” There was a period of silence, although the conversation on the radio still continued.

“Kinda sounds like a big baby, if ya ask me,” Alice said, frowning at the equipment.

“He’s a bastard,” Gilda said, clenching the headset. “Talking to me about insubordination? That cockgobbler,” she shouted, slamming the headset down onto the ground, “abandoned his post in the navy. Fucking turncoat insults me?!” She shot her foot out, kicking at the headset so hard it unplugged from the headphone jack and skittered across the metal flooring of the room, before Gilda grabbed a nearby railing and rocked it back and forth with her body. “I’ll kill him!”

Alice pressed her back against the wall, heart rate raising as she saw Gilda rage. “A-At least you’re b-better than him… for a pirate, y’know…”

“Nobody,” she said, her voice calmer than a moment before, almost eerily calm. “Nobody fucking disses Gilda Almadia and her crew and gets away with it.”

“What are ya gonna do…?” Alice asked, although a part of her already knew the answer.

She spat to the side, crossing her arms. “We take it all. As soon as they push forward, I come from behind and twist a knife. Fuck honor, this got Goddamn personal. I get the bounty, more crew members and some new ships at my helm. Anyone not willing to serve under me gets to have their throat slit.”

“Sounds like a plan. Er, I guess…” Alice rubbed her arm in a slow motion. “What about me?”

Gilda gazed down at the girl, her hard expression briefly leaving. Glancing at the side she shrugged, kneeling down by her. “What to do indeed…” She shook her head. “What do you want, kid?”

“Just to go home.” Alice coughed, then added after a quick pause, “Captain.”

She nodded, hesitantly reaching out and putting a hand on Alice’s shoulder. “Then we’ll get you home, once this shit’s down and out, alright?”

Alice tensed at the touch, but quickly relaxed, staring up at Gilda. “You… you sure?”

“How often did I tell you to fuck off before you snuck on board? I’d be crazy to keep you around now that you’re wanting off the damn ride.”

“Huh… I guess.” The girl raised a curious eyebrow. “So, why are you even a pirate? I think you mentioned the navy back there, but what happened?”

She frowned. Looking over the kid. After a beat, she cocked her head towards the door. “We’ll talk outside.”

“If ya say so.”

They stepped outside, Gilda tapped out a smoke and lit up, resting against the ship’s railing and staring out towards the island. She wasn’t a reflective woman by any means, but seeing the sun set behind the island, causing everything to emit a beautiful glow, made her homesick for the first time in years.

“What kind of family you got back home?” Gilda suddenly asked, breaking the tranquility. “And how about you tell the fucking truth this time.”

Alice sighed, placing her arms on the railing, feeling the cool sea breeze slip between her fingers. She sighed and stared at the horizon, lit up by the setting sun. “We’re farmers. Well, ‘least my brother and sis are. I don’t do much yet. We don’t like to mess with anyone, but if you cross us, then we’ll get mad. We’re family and…” She blinked, swallowing a lump in her throat. “And we stick together. Except I guess I didn’t…”‘

Gilda slowly nodded. She paused, then took another drag from her smoke. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said. “I think he made it, though.”

“‘Course he did,” Alice snapped. “Mac can do anything! That’s why they call him Big Mac!”

Gilda offered a grunt of agreement. She wore a smirk as she stared out at the ocean. “I had a brother too.”

Alice winced. “Had?”

“Are you deaf?” Gilda questioned with a glare. She chewed on the butt of her smoke. “Yeah, had.”

“Oh.” Alice looked down, tapping her fingers absently on the edge of the boat. “I might know what that’s like. Kinda.”

Gilda remained quiet, the only clue that she was listening was the tilt of her ear towards Alice.

“Well, maybe. I still have my brother, and my sister. And Dash, kinda. But…” She clenched her hands together. “I never really knew my parents. They died before I grew up, so I don’t remember them. And… it’s kinda strange, but I don’t really care that much—I mean, I do care, but I don’t remember all the memories like Jack and Mac do. So I never really lost much.”

Alice sighed, brushing back a strand of her hair. “Don’t even know why I’m telling you this; it’s not like you’d care. Losing Granny was much harder on me anyways… farm just doesn’t feel the same without her around…”

She trailed off into silence, positive that Gilda had long since stopped listening.

“He saved me,” Gilda said quietly, tapping her cigarette in thought against the ship's railing. “When I thought nobody was going to come, he did.” She moved her hand hesitantly over to Alice’s shoulder and rested it there for a moment before pulling it away. “I didn’t know my mom, so I guess we’re alike there, but…”

She scowled, her face bitter. “I got him, m-my brother,” she clarified, “killed because I was fucking stupid.”

“What happened…?” Alice asked, letting the question hang there.

Letting out a small grunt, Gilda looked briefly at Alice, then back to the water. “You can tell I’m not from around here, right?”

“Er, a li’l.” She shrugged. “You’re different, that’s for sure.”

Gilda spat to the water. “I’m a Kvaat. We’re a bit different than you guys. How we do things. Oriole...” She considered her words. “He didn’t like what was planned for me. In the country, that is. So he got me out and on a ship with that big fucker Will. They executed him for helping me out. Found out from a newsletter.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Alice looked up to Gilda, even if the woman was looking away. “I really am. But… how is that your fault?”

She polished off her smoke with one last hard pull and flicked it into the water. “Did you not fucking hear the part where they executed him for treason? I’m the one who got him into that fucking mess.”

“But that wasn’t your fault!” Alice exclaimed. “That was stupid people in power making those decisions. It’s not like you gave the order, right?”

“I didn’t, but if I had been less of a Goddamn idiot, he wouldn’t have had to save my ass in the first place!” she snapped back, crossing her arms.

“Then what—” Alice stopped herself, quietly expressing an irritated sigh. “Look, doesn’t matter what you did back then. But I think your brother would forgive ya. And he’d probably tell ya to stop worrying over him. You got a life to live, so live it right. That’s what Mac tells me.”

She grunted. After a long pause, she raised a brow. “You and your brother close?” Pausing once more, she shrugged. “Hell, I’d guess so, not everyone’s fucking stupid enough to board a pirate ship to hunt family down.”

“He ain’t stupid,” Alice snapped. “He’s brave. There’s a difference.”

“A bullet doesn’t care if you’re stupid or brave,” Gilda said sternly. “It just shoots what’s in front of it.”

“That’s dumb. Of course a bullet doesn’t care; it doesn’t think at all. But people do, and both Mac and Jack—Granny too, especially Granny—say that a good person stands by their principles, no matter what.” Alice frowned, crossing her arms across her chest.

Gilda looked down at the kid. Finally, she let a world-weary snort of laughter out. “Principles, huh?” she said. “Your clan’s something else, kid.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Alice shouted, nostrils flared. Gilda rolled her eyes, planting her hand on top of the girl’s head.

“That you’re fucking idiots. But at least decent ones.”

Alice narrowed her eyes, shaking off Gilda. “If I’m an idiot, how did I manage to sneak on your ship without anyone noticing? And don’t tell me I got lucky.”

“Fine. I won’t say you were lucky.” She offered a sneer that Alice could almost believe was an attempt to be friendly. “I’ll say you were fortunate.”

“Now you’re just being… eugh!” Alice threw up her arms and stormed off elsewhere, her heavy footsteps making creaks through the whole ship.

Gilda smirked, reaching into her pocket for another cigarette and humming a surprisingly chipper tone as she watched the smoke drift up to the sky.

Preparation

Zecora sniffed the wet, damp pre-dawn air. Pausing, cocking her head, she pointed east, moving on all fours through the thick hillside grass. Luna reached down to a pair of binoculars and scanned where Zecora had pointed. Sure enough, there sat a ship at the water’s edge, motionless and as silent as a ghost crew.

“Captain,” the princess whispered, “is that vessel suitable?”

Bringing up his rifle’s scope, he studied the ship carefully. At this distance, exact proportions were difficult. If one of the crew were there… “Ahhh,” he said, finally seeing one of the perimeter guards. “They’ve learned to be a little more cautious, it seems.” Quickly, he compared the rough height of the pirate to the ship. Assuming an average height--and the size of the camp around it, telling the number of crew--he was fairly certain when he said, “It doesn’t have quite the cannon I’d like, but for size, we should be set.”

“Excellent,” replied Luna, her voice tinged with excitement. “Firepower pales to skill, so worry not on the cannon, Captain. Let us focus, instead, on stealing it.”

“Commandeer,’ he corrected. “Or liberate, if you prefer.”

She sniffed. “You military types and your terminology. It is all the same.”

“Either word nets us a boat,” Zecora added, looking behind her at the two for a brief moment. “Either word involves a slit throat.” She returned her attention to scouting, crawling ahead with purpose.

Automatically, Lew said, “Ship, not boat.” Then, slinging his rifle to his shoulder, he turned to the loose dirt at their feet. He made a sharp crescent, an X on the inside and a half circle opposite it. He then tapped his finger four times, twice on each side. “Offhand I saw four sentries. But if they’re smart, they’ll likely have a sharpshooter or two in the trees on both sides. I think, considering the more ordered state of their camp, they are smart. Or at least smarter.”

“So no daring do, as you and Zecora performed the last,” said Luna, bored. She shrugged. “Get us past those guards and it will hardly matter, Captain.” She made a quick maze of lines within the half circle. Lew was shocked as he realized it must have been the layout of the camp itself. She had amazingly sharp eyes. “See? They have turtled too strongly, making the camp itself a confusing, tight quarters maze. A melee in there can only go one way for someone such as myself.”

“Fine, yes,” he agreed, “but you said it yourself: We need to get past the guards.” He looked again at the camp. It was a far smarter location than the last.

The ocean pushed into the land itself, creating a small cove that Lew was shocked had been deep enough for the ship to anchor as close as it had. He had to hand it to the ship’s navigator, it had been a risky, bold, and in the end successful choice. A near-circle of beach enclosed the water--a far cry from the typical rocky shores Lew had seen so far. Worse, it acted like a peninsula, meaning there were no flanks beyond the sea itself.

And the worst part was that it was likely just dumb luck they had chosen it. It was the flattest, clearest space along this cliff shore, allowing them to effectively dock with the island itself, rather than using the smaller landing boats. The terrain beyond the camp, though wooded, stayed flat. And though they left the trees, it looked as if the pirates had cleared the majority of the brush, making the space between the trees open and deadly.

All in all, it was rather well thought out. Lew suspected they were dealing with more than just pirates, but said nothing.

“Honestly, I’m unsure, Princess,” he finally said. “If we had some artillery, or explosives of any kind, perhaps…”

“Distraction?” she asked.

“Might be our only way, though you know I hate offering up one of my men as bait. I don’t see any better approaches, between the open woods and the sea.”

Rubbing at her chin, Luna closed her eyes in thought as Lew took to studying the camp again. After a moment, she asked, “Captain, how fares the tide?”

“Milady?” he asked, confused.

“The ocean waves--are they still? Or is there a strong current?”

Not understanding, Lew took a look. “Within the cove it’s still, of course. The waters around the peninsula don’t seem all that rough either. Why?”

Reaching to the long cloth hanging from his neck, she brought it up and grinned. “I believe I’ve found our approach.”

Lew’s face scrunched in confusion as his mind tried to understand what she meant. The current and his camouflage… Then his eyebrows rose as comprehension dawned. He tilted his head. “Do you mean to…?” He trailed off.

“You said you required some artillery, Captain. Why not take what our enemies have so kindly left for us?”

He nodded once and then turned to his lieutenant. “Ask around, find the best swimmers. We need… Three or four men should do it. Quick!” The man gave a salute and started walking among the platoon Lew had brought with him, the other three still at the village in case the pirates lucked out in finding it. “Zecora, we nee—” He stopped. Turning to Luna, he asked, “Where is Zecora?”

“Off having fun, I surmise,” she replied, smirking and giving an affected sigh of impatience. “Would that I could act on my own and not be slowed by such things as plans and strategies.”

“So glad to be of service,” grumbled Lew, but he was too deep in thought to put any real sting in it. “You men,” he said, gesturing to a few soldiers nearby, “start cutting some of this brush. The darker, larger plants.”

As his men got to work, Lew wondered just what Zecora was up to.

Zecora crept through the tall grass on all fours, her spear clutched tightly in her palm. She held her breath, only breathing when the wind would cover up the noise. She set her eyes at the treeline to the west, noting a movement at the heights of the tree trunk. A blotch in green camo. It would have been hard for normal eyes to spot, but for hers, man-made camouflage was nothing compared to what the jungle hid.

She waited until his attention was focused in a different direction before she reached at the ground and picked up a rock. She rubbed its jagged surface with a thumb, taking in a breath before giving it a sideways throw under his line of vision. As soon as it made a dull thud of impact against the ground she shot forward, moving like a noiseless wisp closer to the man as he snapped toward the noise, gun in hand and eyes staring down the scope. On seeing nothing, he turned; Zecora twisted, hiding behind a thick tree trunk and once more holding her breath.

She sat for a few silent moments, listening to the world around her. She listened to the insects creeping along the ground and trees, listened to the birds, shifting and stirring within their nests. She listened to the subtle groan and creak from the man as he once more adjusted himself to a more comfortable position.

She went around, creeping yet again along the uneven jungle terrain until she came to rest below the man. He sat some fifteen feet high, on a sort of wooden bench attached to the tree by ropes and an plank at an angle against the tree, reinforcing the bench.

Her first thought was to shatter the reinforcing wood, sending him down to the ground, but she realized the amount of noise that would cause. Instead, she reached to her side, unsheathing a heavy hunting knife. She sat her spear down quietly on the ground, then made a sprint at the tree. Jumping, she landed on the trunk, then used it to spring up. She grabbed the ledge with an arm and swung herself up. The man had turned his head, the additional weight causing the perch to sag; his only reward for his reflexes was the knife already sailing through the air.

She stabbed him straight through the throat.

His eyes widened in alarm for a brief, struggling moment, before he stilled. Zecora pulled herself up fully onto the bench and patted him down. She took a few knickknacks, coins and some magazines for the gun he had carried. She picked up the rifle, looking over its body. It didn’t appeal to her, but she slung it over her shoulder, deciding it would make a good gift to Luna, or the man she traveled with. Taking one more moment to observe the camp she found herself nearby, she turned, making her way back to Lew and Luna.

Ten minutes later saw Lew to his volunteers—Rey ‘Al’ Riff, who had the short name for no reason Lew knew of; Sarissa Flash, who he knew from her training at the Academy; and Tom Bintel, who had garnered the nickname Lucky during his trip overboard when they fled Torani—and a pile of greenery that they were working to weave together to form a solid, but natural looking patch that would cover them from above as they swam from the shore around the beach to the ship within the cove. Lew was a little worried about getting to the shore itself, but beyond that, he was confident in the plan.

After his practice with his own outfit, Lew was adept at putting the various leaves and vines together to form a sort of covering, draped across the shoulders, that could be slipped over the head. Whether they would look right on the water… That was to be seen.

“This should do,” he said, tying up the last and handing it to Lucky. “Be careful with that, it’s more fragile than it looks.”

“Yes, sir!” Lucky said, saluting as he joined the others. They were being outfitted with whatever weapons the platoon had that were reliable once wet. It was likely they’d have to take the ship by force.

Approaching the lieutenant, Lew said, “Ready the others to lay a covering fire once the fighting starts on the ship. Keep far enough away to make sure nothing has a chance to hit anyone--it’ll waste our shots too, but it’s the safest bet. Once the ship is ours, the cannon will make short work of any resistance.” Affirming the order, Lew took his place beside Luna, who had continued to observe the camp. “Any sign of her?”

“Oh, Captain,” she chided,” I think you of all people know that if Zecora doesn’t wish to be seen, she will not be seen.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” They stood for a moment and he cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, before stating, “You spent the night with our host.”

“Mmm,” was all the reply she gave.

Letting the topic go at that, he said, “Well, we’re ready whenever she returns. I’d rather her join in the assault on the ship.”

“As would I, Captain. She is an impressive warrior, even by my standards.”

They heard a low chuckle, Zecora grinned at them as she approached, running a thumb under the strap of a hefty rifle.

“Your words are kind, simply too much. I have to say they’re making me blush.” She reached behind her, tossing the rifle off her back and presenting it to Luna. “My aim with a gun lacks, I fear. But I believe your sights are true, my dear.”

She took it and hefted the weight before slinging it to her shoulder in imitation of the captain. “For the necessity of it. Though guns are hardly a warrior’s tool.”

“Well, I’ll feel a bit better with the princess covering me, that’s for sure,” said Lew with a laugh. “So what can you report, Zecora?”

“Their eyes to the west have been undone. I left their gunman in a pool of blood,” Zecora replied. “And if I may to you be quite frank: It left them open to a quiet flank.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” Gathering up the volunteers and their bundles, he said, “We’ll be going for the ship from the sea--turning their cannons against them is the easiest way.”

As the small party approached the shore--trying to give the camp as wide a berth as possible, while keeping the ship in sight--he explained the plan to Zecora, and handed her one of the plant bundles.

“Hope you’re a good swimmer,” he said. “There’s no telling how bad the current will be, but it’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“I’ve been swimming these waters since I was a pup. If anything, Lew, I hope you keep up.”

“Well, we’ll need to stagger our approach. I’ll go first, then I want Lucky, and you Sarissa, together. Then, Princess, you should go. Then Al, and, Zecora, you take the last crossing. If anyone gets in trouble, you’ll be best suited to helping out.”

“The idea sounds grand.” She gave a small bow. “Your wish, Lew, is my command.”

The princess said nothing, but nodded, and his men saluted as they prepped their camouflage. Wrapping his neck and face tight--the material was designed to be somewhat waterproof, so he hoped to keep himself from getting too soaked--Lew donned his own makeshift bundle as he stepped into the water. Though his boots held, his pants didn’t, and an involuntary shiver ran up his spine from the chill of the water against his legs.

“I’ll see you all at the ship. Remember--don’t just go for it. Let the current wash you some, drift. And be careful you don’t wash up on the shore.”

Not even waiting for a reply, he threw the mound of tangled leaves and vines over his head and waded into the deeper water. The material of his camo was as waterproof as he hoped, but still the sea splashed his eyes and soaked behind his mask. The salt tasted bitter, incredibly bitter. He stopped, floating, and spat as best he could before sucking in a deep breath. Between the sea and the mass of plant matter above, he had little room to breathe, and it took no time before he felt uncomfortable.

Carefully, he lifted the covering and found the ship. Letting it drop, he hoped they had made it long enough as he slowly kicked his way forward, roughly parallel to the shore. It was slow, tedious work, and he stopped to just float, checking on the ship, many times.

At least I’ve not heard any gunshots yet.

Confident the plan was working, he saw he was nearing the bend around the shore. His lungs ached, and his legs were starting complain at the errant trail he had to swim. He could say one thing about this little adventure, at the least--he had a whole new training regimen developed to put his men through if life ever got back to normal.

As he circled the small peninsula, he felt the current pick up. But, after a quick check, he saw it was taking him exactly the way he wanted, funneling into the cove. A couple course corrections saw him heading straight for the ship’s hull.

Lew kicked his way to the ship. It was a small risk, but he felt it worth it so he could see where the others were at. Crashing gently into the hull, he was thankful the pirates had a series of ropes (They’re called lines, he reminded himself) hanging over the deck to the waterline, in case of men falling overboard.

Gripping one, he held himself steady and kept the mass of plant matter above him as he turned to see the progress of the others. It didn’t take long before a large, green mass approached, revealing Lucky and Sarissa as they grabbed their own ropes. The princess was next.

As she reached the ship, he saw her grin, her hand pulling hard on the rope. “That was invigorating, Captain. But you shouldn’t take your time--I had to slow three times to not pass you all.” Lew ignored her as the next bundle arrived. Al, quiet as usual, grabbed a rope and waited for Lew’s next orders.

Just one more--there, he thought, as the Zecora mass floated next to him.

Zecora rose herself after a moment, glancing behind her for any stragglers. Finding none, she nodded to Lew, herself grasping a rope. “I watched your men go one-by-one. Your comrade’s seafaring for now is done.”

“Alright, so far so good,” he said, looking up. “Zecora, you’re the best climber--you play scout. See if the deck is clear.”

Moving as soon as he said the word ‘scout,’ Zecora went up the rope, scrambling less like a person and more akin to a beast, fluidly, almost pouncing every step up the rope, rather than a simple climb. It wasn’t long at all before she was over the railing and vanished onto the deck. They waited one moment, then two, before a figure flew off the ship. Lew caught sight of it just as it crashed into the water. A man, his throat heavily dug into and torn. Looking back up as the body sank underwater, he saw Zecora, leaning over to them from the deck and making a ring with her index finger and thumb.

Climbing up, with a wave for his men to follow, he made the climb as quick as he could, dropping the disguise below. Topping the railing, he look at Zecora’s proud smile and said, roughly, “I said ‘scout’, not make a very obvious splashing noise that would give us up.”

“Mind your voice,” she cautioned, staring evenly at Lew. “And you act like I had a choice. It’s simple, my lord. The man saw me as I hopped aboard.”

“You sure as hell did,” he hissed, “since I only wanted to know if the deck was clear--that means just looking, not hopping the rail. If it wasn’t, we’d have cleared it, our way.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, it’s over and done with for now, and we’re not dead yet. We got lucky. Let’s clear the rest of this ship before their watch goes missing.”

By then, the others had boarded and were readying their weapons. The princess was the last aboard. She nodded to Zecora, saying, “Excellently done, lady Zecora.” She pulled her hair back, tying in a tight tail, then drew her sword. “Now it’s my turn.” She headed for the door to belowdecks.

“Now your princess, she makes sense,” Zecora said, crossing her arms and watching Luna travel to the door. “She knows the value of a good offense.”

“And I know how to do my job,” Lew replied, walking quickly to the departing princess and grabbing her shoulder. He was pleased when he didn’t recoil from her frosty look. “Wait, Princess, wait!”

“Captain, why are you stopping me? You yourself mentioned our need for haste.”

“Men,” Lew said flatly.

“Yes, sir!” each said in unison, thankfully quietly, as they saluted.

“How do we train you to succeed.”

“By running swiftly to victory, not hastefully to an early grave.”

He gestured with his hand to the three soldiers, giving Luna a knowing look. She looked surprised, then slowly nodded and sheathed the sword. “The Somini battle chant. I often forget the Guard has adopted much of their ways.”

“Because they work, Princess,” Lew said, more respectfully. “You and Zecora are both fine warriors, the very best, I am not disputing that. But this is our territory--we’re soldiers, this is close-quarters assault. There are methods and we’re going to follow them so no one gets hurt except the enemy.”

“So what exactly are you saying, Captain?” the princess asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That I need both you and Zecora, for the duration of this mission, to follow my orders exactly as I give them. It’s time you let us show you what we’re really capable of.” He turned to the soldiers, still standing at attention. “Lucky, Al, bayonets, or whatever we’ve got. Sarissa, you’ll take point behind--clear and recognize. Our targets are a complete, quiet sweep of the ship, top to bottom, followed by the cannons.”

“Yes, sir,” replied all three. Slinging out their rifles, Lew saw they had duct taped combat knives to the ends, while Sarissa pulled out a beaten short sword.

He turned back to Luna and Zecora. “Well, my ladies?”

Zecora exchanged a look with Luna before nodding at the man. “Your hostility I wish not to accrue. So I will follow what Luna wishes to do.”

The princess merely shrugged. “You’re the captain, Captain. Let’s see you work.”

“Thank you. Men, move out. Zecora, Luna, follow me. Blades only.”

Lucky took the lead as the group moved to the door. Gripping the handle, he waited for Al to pull a smaller knife and give a thumbs up. Silently, Lucky counted down from three with his fingers. On zero, he pulled the door open and Al rushed inside, Sarissa close behind. Inside was a short hallway that opened up to a large space. Two doors--one on each side--would open to small cabins, and stairs, or rather a ladder, could be seen centered down the hall.

Entering, Lew waited until both Zecora and the princess had entered, then he pulled the door closed behind them, quietly. Lucky and Al had already taken the left door and were awaiting Lew and Sarissa on the right. Pulling out his boot knife, Lew gestured for Sarissa to take the door. This time, he took the count, and both Sarissa and Lucky opened their doors, nigh simultaneously.

Rushing in, Lew scanned the room quickly--it was small, probably seven by twelve or so. Two bunks were built into the wall, both surprisingly made and thankfully empty. Little else could be seen beyond a single small desk, which had several rolls of paper. He left the room, giving the all clear signal as Al gave the same.

“Downstairs,” Lew mouthed silently.

The group headed down the stairs, none wincing at a single creak. As he and his men had learned very quickly during their retreat from the mainland, it was a ship. It creaked. It creaked a lot.

Belowdecks was much the same as above. A longer hallway, with several doors along the right side but only two on the left. That likely marked it as the captain’s cabin. Leaning next to Zecora, he explained, “You’re the fastest, and it’ll be a big room, so you’ll make the breach. Should be empty, but if not… Throat the closest target, Sarissa will be right behind after the next. If the target is asleep, no kill, Sarissa will disable.”

He approached the door and gripped the handle, as Lucky, Al, and Sarissa each took their own door. Again, he gave the count. Three… Two… One. “Go!” he mouthed, twisting the handle and swinging the door in a controlled thrust, opening it without slamming it.

She wordlessly nodded, reaching for the knife at her side and lowering her body. Dashing in at a half-crouch, she looked left and right as she made her way to the center of the room. There was a weak groan of protest; a man lay sleeping on the bed, an empty gin bottle at his socked feet. There wasn’t anyone else, at least for this room.

The guardswoman moved fast, taking a position over the man and quickly shutting off his airway with her forearm. There was a slight choking noise, his eyes bulged open but no cry left his lips. After a few moments, his eyes closed again as his body went fully limp. Removing the pressure, Sarissa waved the others in. Lew closed the door behind them.

“Good work,” he told her, making gestures for the others to tie him up. They complied quickly as Lew looked about the cabin. It was much larger than the others, but still relatively small and spartan in its furnishings. An actual bed--still built into the wall--took up most of the space, with the rest being filled by one writing desk and one small table that had radio equipment on it. “Well,” he said, “that explains the man here. Guess they always keep someone on the radio, just in case.”

“If I may offer something like a muse, could we perhaps use the radio for a ruse?” Zecora offered, looking over the technology.

Lew thought about it but shook his head. “I don’t like it. Let’s keep to our current plan.” He did, however, gesture to Lucky. “But, Lucky, I want you to stay here. The last thing we need is for the whole game to be spoiled just because someone doesn’t pick up the radio.”

“Roger, sir!” the young man nodded, then took the seat beside the radio. Lew noted, approvingly, that he kept his blade ready, rather than pulling a sidearm.

“As for the rest of us--let’s double time it, men!” They saluted and, Luna and Zecora following, the group headed out the door to sweep the rest of the ship.

As dusk fell, Captain Alexander looked over his men as they finished the last chores of setting up camp. The boys had done good and he was positive about the operation that was commencing the next day. Finally, he would scout no more--now, they could take the prey they had been so calmly watching and tracking. It was a good feeling. The best feeling.

The stillness before the strike.

Standing in the entrance to his tent, he clapped once, then waited as his crew stopped whatever it was they were doing and gathered in the central clearing of their camp. After a moment he had everyone’s attention.

“Lads, I just want to say you have done a fantastic job. Not like that idiot Bearcry and his hooligans and thugs. No, these damned guardsmen won’t catch us unawares!”

There was a general cry to that and he let it go on for a bit before waving it down.

“Now, as you know, the Admiral has tasked us with keeping our target right where she’s at for tomorrow’s big action. So, as we’re the best of the best, we’re not going to let anything escape our notice!”

His crew cheered again and, those not designated for the watch that night, raised their mugs in toast.

Alexander smiled, looking forward to his own private stash of very fine whiskey. He had a habit of taking a single shot before the most important days of his life. The bottle was still a little over half full, but he suspected that, under the Admiral, the coming days would see it drained quickly.

He opened his mouth to join in the cheer just as the first explosions blossomed amongst his men.

“Ready! Load those charges, double-double!” cried Lew as his guards worked, loading the powder charge and tamping it before rolling in another explosive round. Lew was impressed at the small arsenal the ship possessed. But cannons weren’t easy without practice, and his men weren’t the quickest at reloading.

“Armed, Captain!” cried Sarissa as she turned away and covered her ears.

“Fire!”

Another deafening shot rang out, sending the cannon hurtling back as the roller system it sat on locked and slowed the recoil.

“Captain,” reported Al. “We got lucky, with them grouped up like that. They’ve scattered.”

“Excellent--let’s give them a third round, then call for their surrender.” He turned to the princess. “You care to go abovedecks for that, my lady?”

A wolfish smile broke her lips. “Oh, it would be my pleasure, Captain. Awaiting your signal.” She turned and left, heading for the ladder back up.

“All set, Captain,” reported Sarissa a moment later.

“Target the largest tent--that’s likely to be their captain’s,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” both guards said in near-unison.

“Fire when ready,” he said, giving a small smile.

Though he hated the necessary evil of casualties in combat, even for criminals such as the pirates, Lew gave a small prayer to Elondrie that his men, his friends, were safe. His plan had worked. Then his face turned darker as he gave another prayer.

Today’s plan had gone off without a hitch--but what would tomorrow bring?

Tides of war

Mac groaned, rubbing his aching head as he took stock of the bed he lay on. Knowing that resting would get him nowhere closer to saving Alice, he finally rose with another groan and stood before sinking to a knee. He was still weak from the near drowning he suffered earlier it seemed.

Don’t matter, he thought. Get yer damn ass up an’ get ta lookin’ fer yer girl.

That spurred his movements. Rising, he looked over to the side of the bed and donned his shirt, then, glanced over at the pistol that had been laid out for him. He grabbed it and unloaded the magazine, checking to make sure the object was free of dirt and grime, before loading it again and pulling the slide back.

Mac knew he didn’t have the experience of Lew, Luna, or, judging by appearances, even the tribal woman Zecora. They all outshone him, but he knew he had to try. He knew Alice was counting on him. With that in mind he crammed the pistol and a few spare mags into his pockets and charged outside, determined to make it to the coast and hunt her down.

Although he hadn’t really seen the coastline himself, he had a general idea what to hunt for. He wasn’t completely helpless in that regard. He might of been a man of few words, but he did know a thing or two. Like tracking animals, hunting, finding his way around rough terrain. Finding a coast would be a breeze.

He plodded on in his slow, meandering way, briefly wishing for a dip. It had been forever since he had chewed, but man did one tempt him now. Jack used to get onto him about it, but, considering that she smoked, it wasn’t like she could call the kettle black.

Turning his body to the side, he scooted in between two gnarly trees and ducked under a thick wall of tree limbs.

He used to take Jack hunting. It was something they did when the deer were in season. He had went with their dad before he passed, tried to give her the same experience. Tried to step in and be a replacement to him. Sure, it didn’t work all that well, considering Jack ran off to Manhattan, but he had tried. And was trying to do the same for Alice. Him and Jack both. They weren’t the real deal by any means, but he tried to be as much of a father figure as he could to the girl. Isabelle helped too in that regard--that woman was mean when she had to be.

He stopped for a moment in the thick trees decorating his world, listening. Hearing nothing, he moved on, returning to his thoughts.

Mac had been a bit reluctant at first to Dash coming to live with them. Not outwardly hostile, by any means, but he had been guarded around her for a long while until his granny just about tore his ear off lecturing him.

Looking down at the ground, he briefly skirted his fingertips around a clear bootprint in the mud. Mac guessed Luna, judging by the foot width and length. That was good, meant he was on the right track.

A stiff upper lip was important to keep when you were head of a household. He was the only one that didn’t cry at their granny’s funeral. When Isabelle had gotten pissed off at him over that, well, he knew Jack and her would be alright together. What she didn’t know was when they got back home, he had locked the door to his room and bawled like a baby.

A hard roar snapped him away from his memories. He instantly threw himself behind a tree, drawing his pistol. The hard roar was followed by two more just like it, alongside screams in the distance.

Taking a chance, he quickly pressed on, coming to the outskirts of a treeline that lead to a sudden drop off down to the coastline, where burning wreckage and a small crater greeted him. Bodies lined the area, the scent filling the air reminding him of barbeque. That thought gagged him. As he observed the man-made hell, he saw a few men scrambling, guns drawn and pointing excitedly at the ship.

Mac held his own weapon close as he made his way down to the beach, creeping along as well as a big man could. Thankfully, most seemed distracted by the ship. As he neared, however, he stumbled on a rough patch of sand and fell with a grunt. That drew the attention of a pair of men. They turned around and seemed to realize Mac didn’t belong. Before they could shout any other alerts, Mac aimed and squeezed three rounds out. He wasn’t quite the sharpshooter his sis was, but it got the job done, sending two slugs through the stomach of one and the chest of another. Scrambling to his feet, Mac looked for more stragglers. Finding another cradling a wounded leg, he held no mercy, pulling the trigger once more into his back. He made his way down the beach, firing and engaging men from the flank. He wasn’t going to get his damn fool ass killed today. Now wasn’t the time to be a hero. Now was the time to make sure Alice had someone to go home with.

He ducked behind a tree and loaded another mag in, then popped back out, his gun at the ready as he continued to slink like dog down the way, slow, methodical, and lumbering.

Suddenly a voice cut through the sounds of shouting and panic, clear and authoritative. Mac recognized it as the princess’s. Despite the distance between the shore and the ship, she spoke strong and clearly.

“Enemy mine, surrender and disarm or face utter destruction!”

“Eyup. Sounds like the princess, alright,” he spoke under his breath. Holstering his gun, Mac rose from his hiding spot and headed towards the royal figures calling.

The demands continued. “I hereby claim this vessel under the authority of the crown of Torani. You will stand down and present yourselves for incarceration, to await trial and sentencing under a proper court. Elsewise, under my command and authority, Captain Shields will continue shelling this beach until naught remains.”

The remaining pirates Mac could see had stopped and were now looking to one another. It seemed no one wanted to be the one to reply, lest he overstep his bounds. After a moment, he sensed a shift in their attentions. A single man, his finer clothes marking him out as the captain most likely, was walking forward, a cutlass in his hand.

Quite deliberately, the man raised the sword high, then tossed it down. The men scattered about did the same quickly afterwards, throwing down swords, axes, guns, whatever type of weapon they had found in the chaos. The captain yelled, “I am no fool, nor do I seek to sacrifice my men’s lives in some vain hope to overcome you. That is not what Captain Alexander will be remembered for. I know when I am beat, and submit myself to your mercy, Princess.”

Mac crossed his arms, watching the scene. It amazed him how easily the princess could sway the peoples hearts, be it men like himself, or the scum that prostrated themselves before her.

“A wise decision, captain. It will be mentioned before the courts. Now, if you would be so kind as to pile what weapons you have, then gather your men twenty feet away. Captain Shields and his men will come to shore to detain you, but until then know this ship’s cannons are aimed and ready to fire at the slightest provocation.”

“Duly noted,” replied Alexander, who began shouting orders for his men to comply. In no time at all, they had gathered up the weapons near them into a single pile then, as one, they marched to a spot away from the pile where they sat, the captain at their head.

Mac continued to look over the men, scanning for Lew, the princess, anyone he would know, debating between calling attention to himself, or to silently hunt.

Finally, deciding to be bold, he cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted above the noise, “Lew!”

The pirates turned, some jumping to their feet in surprise. But just as quick came Luna’s voice. “Is that the eldest Apple I hear? Macintosh?”

“That’s he! Or, uh, me!” he called out in return. “Where y’all at?”

“The Captain will join you shortly, Sir Apple. If you will perhaps keep a guard on our captives? Though I advise you not to stand too close, lest we require the ship’s cannons again.” While her advice was serious, Mac could definitely hear an amused edge to her voice.

“Uh, as ya wish, yer highness,” he replied, moving over to the men and holding his gun at the ready.

There was a few moments of awkward silence as the pirates watched Mac cautiously, although they didn’t seem intent on causing anymore trouble. Looking at the ship, the farmer saw movement, four figures were lowering a smaller boat to the water. They climbed in and headed to the shore.

Alexander coughed gently, asking, “You’re with the princess, then?”

“Reckon I am,” Mac agreed, watching him carefully.

“You’re sure as hell no native, but you don’t look like any Guard I’ve ever seen,” the pirate said lightly. “But you got past my men, that much is obvious. Are they dead?”

“Some of ‘em,” Mac agreed. He stared evenly at Alexander. “I’m lookin’ fer a girl. She’s a young’n. I think she mighta been on yer ship. Was with a gal named… Gilly? Somethin’ like that.”

“Aren’t any girls on my ship, that’s for certain. Any of these lads tried something like that…” He shook his head. “You’ll have to try elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“Captain,” said one of the men quietly. “He might mean that bitch, Gilda. She’s soft enough in the head for such things.”

Alexander rubbed at his pristine and finely trimmed beard. “That’s true. If so, heaven help you, lad. She won’t last long at the rate she’s going.”

“My gal, or Gilda? ‘Cause there’s a bullet waitin’ fer her if anythin’ has happend ta Alice.”

That last got some laughs amongst the pirates, though they shrank under Mac’s hard stare. Alexander said, “It’ll mean both, as the Admiral won’t rest until her ship docks with the deeps. It’s only a matter of time, the mouth that woman has on her.”

“The Admiral?” Mac repeated, furrowing his brow.

With a widening of his eyes, Alexander’s face showed he felt he had said too much. “I’ll say this, if you want to save the girl, you had best be quick about it, lad. If Captain Gilda gets on the Admiral’s bad side...” He trailed off, letting Mac’s imagination fill in the blanks.

Mac considered his words, then slowly nodded. “I’ll do it. Jus’ you wait.”

“Mmm,” was all the reply he got. “We’ve got company--your Captain Shields.”

Mac looked and saw he was right--the young man was instructing two guard to tie up the rowboat, before he and Zecora walked over to the pirates. Lew had his rifle readied and, after they had finished with the boat, the two guards drew mismatched weapons of their own.

Lew’s face was impassive, but he gave Mac a nod of recognition. “Glad to see you’re up and about. Surprised, but glad.”

“Ya can’t keep a good man down,” Mac replied. “So I have no damn clue how I’m up.” He cocked a meaty thumb at Alexander. “Ya know anythin’ ‘bout an Admiral?”

Lew turned to the captive, curiosity on his face. “Admiral? What’s he talking about?”

“I might tell you,” offered Alexander, “but I want fair shakes for my men. Let us tend to the casualties…?”

With a wave of a hand, Lew replied, “We were going to do that anyway. Now, speak.”

With a long sigh, the captain asked, “Did you not have any suspicions? Several different pirate crews--a kind of man notorious for not playing well with others--working for the same goal?”

“I had my theories.” Lew nodded. “So the Admiral is taking the title literally. He’s your leader.” When Alexander nodded, he asked, “How many ships?”

“Admiral Forthright had convinced nearly fifteen different captains, initially. Though that number has been cut some, between those you’ve killed and a couple of cowards. Maybe ten? Give or take a couple.”

“Sounds like we’re really outnumbered,” Mac said to himself.

“Nothing we weren’t expecting,” Lew replied, too calmly.

“I don’t know what you were expecting, lad, but the Admiral wasn’t it. You want my advice, you take the Ire Wind and leave, quick as you can. There aren’t many places for your sort to go, wanted by the most powerful woman in the North as you are, but still. Best chances.”

“It all depends, really,” replied Lew. “And you’ve already seen how badly you underestimate us. Now, my men will be watching--no one goes out of our line of sight, or you’ll be disabled, no warnings. Let’s see who needs help. No one else needs to die today.”

“Fair enough, Captain Shields,” replied Alexander. “You heard the man, lads. Don’t try to be cute, we’ve lost fair and square.” To Lew, he said, “I tip my hat to you, Captain. Your Guard would make fine pirates, it seems.” With that, he took to instructing his men.

Lew went over to the two Guardsmen he had with him--one of whom was a woman, Mac noticed--and whispered his orders, leaving Mac and Zecora alone.

“So, now what?” Mac asked Zecora. The tribal woman shrugged.

“We need to go, and hurry soon. Let us hear the orders from the princess of the moon.”

Several hours later found an exhausted Lew alone with Luna inside the previous captain’s cabin. He stood to attention despite his aching back--several of the pirates had thankfully lived from their bombardment, but had needed to be carried--and gave her a salute. “My lady, the prisoners have all been seen to and placed in the ship’s brig. It is a bit of a tight fit, but should do.”

“And the injured?”

“The unit’s medics are tending to them, beyond our initial field dressings.”

“How many dead?”

“Thankfully few. The crew numbered around thirty, and we’ve dug five graves today.”

“Mmm,” replied the princess, cradling her head on her hands in thought. “And of this Admiral--it is likely?”

“More than likely,” Lew replied. “While I’m not particularly familiar with the Royal Navy, I believe there was a Forthright who mutinied, commandeering his ship to pirate the Kvaat waters.”

“He has a Torani warship?” Luna asked.

“Unfortunately, but a light one, thank Elondrie. It’s no battleship, but a step above these pirate ships, that’s for sure.”

“What do you propose we do about that?”

Like it’s nothing out of the ordinary, Lew thought with a mental laugh. It was occasionally frustrating, but one had to admire her sheer confidence, both in herself and her subordinates such as Lew.

“Deception and targeted assault. We utilize this ship to get close to the Admiral’s, storm it, and take out the pirate leadership. While it’s impressive he’s managed to sway them under his banner, without him, they’re still just pirates. And with a proper warship in our hands, with my men’s training, they won’t be able to touch us.”

The warrior princess nodded. “It seems sound, although it is a risky proposition. I quite like it, Captain. Has Alexander spoken anymore of their plans?”

Lew nodded. “A little. It’s slow going, but we’ve worked out the basic details. It seems the more he’s given to think on it, the more cooperative he becomes. I think the Admiral does not tolerate failure well.”

Luna laughed. “He is a traitor and a coward. Fear is the only tool he has to keep his followers in line. It is rather disgusting.” She tapped an absentminded finger on the desk. “I’ll leave the preparations to you, Captain. I expect a harsh battle, so I must prepare.”

“Thank you, Princess,” replied Lew, bowing slightly. “I’ll see to it the men are readied.” He turned to leave, then stopped. A thought had occurred to him. “My lady?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“What about Macintosh’s sister?”

“Have you taken into account her rescue in your plan?” she asked, one corner of her lips angling slightly in a held back smile.

“Well… Yes,” he admitted.

“Then all is right with the world. Dismissed, Captain.”

Giving a deeper bow, Lew thanked her and headed back to the lower levels of the ship. He had much to do that night, and the first thing on his list was yet another chat with the ex-Captain Alexander.

The Storm

Everything around Alice was pounding. Mostly her head and her ears, yet she could hear the muffled sound of some commotion above deck. Groaning groggily, she forced herself to sit up, rubbing her head.

A hangover, then. No thanks to Gilda. She muttered out a curse under her breath as she struggled to keep away the headache.

She felt… well, she felt like shit, honestly. The last time she was hungover was at a new year’s party. Good times. Better times. She distinctly remembered waking up with Jack at her side, looking down at her. Her sister both teased and chewed her out a li’l but the warmth of her hand spoke differently. Alice gazed down at her fingers and wiggled them a little, sighing.

Thinking about home only made the headaches worse, so she forced herself out a trudged towards the door. Nobody was in the room, not even a hungover crewmember or something.

“Wait,” she said to herself, then gasping as the realization struck her. “The battle!”

Hastily, she ran over to the door, eyes bloodshot but fully alert. Putting an ear on the door, the sounds outside were even louder. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked and, with a trembling hand, she grabbed the handle and slowly pushed the door open.

Men crouched at the starboard bow, several armed with heavy weaponry and taking potshots over the railings at a nearby ship. She squinted, noting several men on the other returning every shot they received with two more. Ahead of her, a man let out a wild shriek as a bullet pierced through his shoulder, sending a blast of blood hurtling through the air and onto the ship’s deck. He landed hard, groaning and clutching the wound, before another round struck, piercing through his head and silencing him forever.

She crouched down onto all fours, hearing bullets whizz above her head like angry hornets. The blood of the man began to spill down towards and she scrambled away, her heart feeling like it was going to rip out of her chest as she struggled to keep her breathing under control. A familiar voice rose above the chaos, its tone leaving no room for argument.

“Hard starboard!” Gilda barked from up above, in the crow’s nest. “We’re bringing these sons of bitches a party! Boarding crew, prepare yourselves! Everyone else, supporting fire!”

The ship lurched hard to the right, tilting so hard Alice wobbled and nearly tipped even on all fours, before steadying itself. The shots continued to ring out, the blasts from the other ship sounding just a hair more desperate. Gilda spoke words that made Alice pause.

“Ramming speed, you bastards!” the captain roared, slamming her hand down onto the railing of the nest. “We’re gonna hit them so hard their fucking grandmas will feel it!”

There was a chorus of roars and cheers so fierce, the whole crew seemed reignited. Even the wounded apparently shared the same spirit. But between the gunfire and the shouting, Alice simply felt deafened, stumbling towards the bottom of the crow’s nest and hugging around it for support.

The ship launched forward, picking up speed with every passing foot, charging wildly towards the larger ship. It seemed insane to ram into it, asinine even, but they held no reservations about it, in fact, their shouts grew even louder with every inch closer to the beast. At the last moment, the giant ship lost its nerve and swerved away from the charging boat, missing one another by mere feet.

“Now!” Gilda called. Instantly, men on the starboard side stepped forward and threw ropes high up into the air, the hooks on the end catching on the railings of the ships. “Double pay for anyone that kills the fuckers trying to take the ropes off!” Gilda called out to frenzied cheering among her men.

Alice watched as scores of men leapt off the ship and clambered onto the enemy vessel. Not all of them made it, getting shot and disappearing into the sea below. Before long though, the scene on the other ship was a complete mess. Shots firing everywhere, swords slashing wildly and frenzied screams from everyone.

There came a noise from up above. Gilda slid down on a rope, landing beside Alice with a small grunt. As she caught her bearings, she glanced over toward Alice and froze.

“The fuck?!” she roared. “How are you up?!”

“I dunno!” Alice screamed, clutching onto the crow’s nest tightly. “I guess I’m stronger than I thought?!”

“You dumb piece of shit!” Gilda bristled, clenching her fists tightly to her side. “Should I have put a roofie in your drink too?!”

“I ain’t the one that thought it’d be a good idea to get some girl plastered right before some huge battle!!” Alice shouted, forcefully gesturing towards the scene at play. “I had to wake up sometime, didn’t I?! Maybe ya should’ve given me some earplugs!”

Gilda snapped her hand forward, grabbing the collar of Alice’s shirt and bringing the girl scant inches from her face. “Get your ass downstairs. Will could use you. Do exactly as he says. Exactly. Otherwise you’re gonna wish you’d never woken up.”

Alice grunted, fidgeting and wiggling around to try and get free. “I don’t know where he is!!”

“Go to the mess hall, he’ll be around there.”

“Er, right!” Alice scurried away, keeping her head down low. Screams and gunshots fired all around her, almost deafening, thanks to how suddenly alert she felt. She did her best not to shout like a little girl as she felt a bullet fly past her and soldiered on, almost stumbling back inside. Once she was safe from the battle, relatively speaking at any rate, she pushed past the dozens of others shuffling through the hall, their shouts almost louder than the gunfight outside. Finally she saw him, a good head above the rest, gesturing to others and barking out orders at everyone present.

“Humphres! Check the engine room! Samson! Go upstairs, give the frontlines more guns! Leblanc! Follow me, we’re gonna try the gun ports!”

“Will!” Alice shouted, frantically waving her arm about and jumping on the spot.

He somehow caught sight of her and shook his head, shocked. “The hell? How are you up?!”

“Turns out a freakin’ war can really sober up a girl!” Alice retorted.

“Well, you’re not going back up there.” He rubbed at his chin, before nodding. “You’re coming to the gun ports with me and not leaving my sights.”

“As long as I don’t get shot, that’s fine by me,” the girl said.

He turned, prompting the girl to follow. They went through the mess hall and down a narrow corridor, then to another wide room, with small shut windows on either side.

“We open these up and take shots.” Moving a keg placed right next to a closed window, he popped the top open and pulled out a hefty rifle, before setting the barrel’s top shut again. “Ever shoot a gun?” he asked.

“Not to kill anyone but…” She slowly nodded. “Yeah. Family taught me how to use a rifle at least. Could hit apples sitting on barrels from some good distance away.”

“Do you want to shoot anyone?” Will asked, his face a mask of neutrality at the question.

Alice’s eyes drifted towards the closed window. “Well… it is self-defense ‘n’ all…”

“So yes or no?” he asked impatiently. “Because if not, I’ll shoot.”

“Two guns are better than one,” she said, holding her hands out for the weapon.

“Just be careful of the kick,” he warned, moving to open the shutter, then going to a shutter next to her own. “And if they start shooting back, duck away.”

Alice snorted and moved up to the shutter. “I’m a girl; I ain’t stupid.” She then took a deep breath and looked down the sights, adjusting the way she held the rifle to make sure the kick wouldn’t break her shoulder. The rifle wasn’t like the ones they had back on the farm but she supposed the basic principles were the same. A few missed shots were okay if she picked up how the gun worked quickly enough.

“Not stupid,” Will agreed, shouldering his own rifle and all but swallowing it in his larger grip and frame. Without breaking sight from his scope, he added, “But might want to look at your safety.”

“I got this far, didn’t I?” Alice said, giving Will a quick smirk before a concentrated frown set upon her face. She aimed at one of the enemy ships in target, thankful that nobody was aiming back at them. Yet. Or at least she thought so.

Holding her breath, she focused, lining up the shot on a man in a similar position to her. After a few seconds to make sure she was stable, she pulled the trigger. The bullet flew from the barrel with a loud bang and she had to hold firm in order to not get knocked back by the recoil. She tried to follow her bullet as best she could but given the fact her target was still alive, she clearly missed.

“Damn it!” she cursed, ducking into cover and beginning the tedious process of reloading.

“Don’t hold your breath. Take a shot after exhaling,” Will instructed, letting loose with a shot of his own. He gave a brisk pull of the bolt back, letting a bullet clatter to the ground, before aiming down the sights again.

“Right, gotcha,” Alice said briskly, stepping up to the shot again. She repeated the process again, almost as if it were almost natural to her.

She blinked. That was kinda a scary thought.

Taking aim regardless—battles weren’t a place to think deeply—she held her breath, aimed at the man she had before, then exhaled right as she pulled the trigger. A loud ‘ting’ next to her made her dart back into cover and then she started to reload. “Did I get him?”

“If you didn’t, you scared him off,” he replied. “Try aiming for their top deck. I think Gilda might be planning an assault.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Alice paused for a moment. “Sorry, didn’t mean that.” Putting the bullet in the chamber, she went back up and followed Will’s direction. The targets were a lot more exposed, although there were a lot more. She indecisively flicked between targets, before settling on a rather burly man who seemed to be having way too much fun shooting.

She repeated the steps. Breath, aim, release, fire.

The shot sped towards the man, impacting his chest. He went down, completely unaware of where his assailant was. Alice didn’t watch for long, ducking back to reload. “Got it!”

“Nice one!” Will stared towards his own target, firing a round that sailed and struck a man in the stomach, dropping him to the ground, if not dead, then incapacitated. “Make sure once they start boarding to watch out for our boys!”

Alice swallowed. “I didn’t think of that…”

“Just be careful. Don’t take shots you don’t trust yourself on, alright?”

Alice nodded firmly. “Yeah. Kinda sounds like what Jack would say…”

000

“Fuck ‘em up!” Gilda roared, leaping onto a rope one of her men had latched onto the admiral's ship. She threw her arms up over and over, climbing hand over hand until she reached a banister, which she hoisted herself up and over, a pistol in her hand. She wasn’t expecting the massacre before her.

Men she knew lay slaughtered, strewn across the deck under the barrage of bullets the Admiral's men rained down upon them. Thinking quickly, Gilda dove, taking cover behind a large exhaust port.

“How many men are on this shit heap?!” she shouted in frustration. As she watched a man, Danny, collapse to the ground, gagging and clutching at his ruined, bleeding throat, she grit her teeth, putting her men before her pride. “Retreat! Retreat you cocksuckers!”

Several froze, looking at her like it was a foreign concept. One look at her stern eyes said it was no joke.

“What?!” one asked.

“Fucking go! Keep the ropes up, fight defensively from the ship!” She looked across the deck, towards the open stairwell leading to the ship’s bridge. “I got a plan!”

A hesitant pause, then one man looked behind him, whistling at the men climbing up on the rope. They ceased their endless approach and reversed, allowing some of the lucky ones the chance to flee. The unlucky ones let out a surprised grunt as another round of bullets tore into anyone foolish enough to leave the sparse cover of the deck.

Swearing once more, Gilda sprinted towards the stairwell. A round hit her halfway there, the impact so strong she nearly was shoved over, but she regained her footing, diving forward and ducking under a guardrail that sprang up from the sides of the stairs. Quickly looking down and feeling at her stomach, she let out a breath of relief when she realized it handn’t pierced her bullet-proof vest. The son of a bitch would sting tomorrow, but it at least kept her alive today. She rose, coming almost face to face with a man, a knife ready to plunge into her chest.

Then there was a sound of a bullet piercing the air, something impacting and then a choked groan from the man. He stumbled backwards, holding onto his neck, bleeding like a broken dam. He moved his knife towards Gilda, his arm shaking, then stumbled backwards, falling off the end of the stairway and onto the deck below. He landed like a broken doll, unmoving and a pool of crimson slowly expanding from him.

Unknown to Gilda, back on her ship, the youngest Apple was reloading. “That was way too close,” Alice said to herself, wiping her brow with her sleeve before searching for another target.

Gilda spared only a glance towards her ship, before returning her attention first and foremost to the deck.

Now that her head was fully in the game, Gilda rose to the challenge, climbing the steps two at a time. When she came to the stair’s landing, a movement caught from the corner of her eye. Taking no chances, she snapped to the movement and squeezed a trigger. The shot came slightly too short, ricocheting off the guardrail. Gilda ducked behind the stairs railings just as another loud sniper shot roared, dropping the man to the floor.

Gilda took advantage of the chaos, climbing to the top of the stairs. Her lips curled into a cross between a triumphant grin and a feral smirk when she saw the bridge’s door. Throwing her shoulder against it, she slammed into it hard, nearly stumbling to the ground when it gave way.

Recovering, she raised her pistol, waving it slowly at the room full of technicians and civvies all sat around electronic terminals and devices.

“I’m looking for the Admiral. You’re going to tell me where he is. Tell me before I get mean,” Gilda warned, her brow narrowing. it was then she heard the unmistakable click of a pistol turning its safety off from behind her.

“You are in requirement of something from me?” came the unmistakable voice of the Admiral.

Gilda smirked, not dropping her bravado. “Yeah. Your ship.”

The Admiral snorted, kicking Gilda at the back of her knee, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Smiling to himself, he placed a heavy boot on her back. “Enough of the games now.” His tone was infuriating--a disappointed parent disciplining a wayward child.

“Why? You tired, you old fuck?” Gilda snapped back, looking over her shoulder as her face was buried into the steel flooring. “Would explain why your fuckin’ boys are on the deck, but not you.”

The Admiral flicked off a speck of dust from his navy waistcoat, looking quite uninterested. “A foolish girl like you could never understand--you’ve proved as much with your lack of support for the fleet. I use tactics, not boneheaded bravado. As I’ve told you all from day one, without me, these people are worthless. Useless. Powerless. But under my careful direction… Well, a barbarian like you could never understand the finer rules of warfare.” He grinned, aiming his pistol down at her head. “Fitting I should honor you with a barbaric end then; your brains splattered across my ship. Most pleasing.”

Gilda stared hard down the barrel, watching a tendon in the back of his hand flex as he began to grip. Time almost seemed to slow as she watched his finger slowly shift back. Then, to her surprise, he stopped.

“No,” he said quietly, relaxing his grip on the gun but not changing the aim.

“Sir?” asked one of the men behind him. “No?”

The Admiral grinned wickedly. “No.”

Struggling for just a moment against the man’s boot on her back, Gilda asked, “The fuck you mean, ‘no’? Just do it, you fucking coward!”

She yelped despite herself as he ground his boot directly into her spine, pressing the slight heel of his polished navy boots down hard. “Quiet, child, and listen. You will pay for your transgressions, as I have decided. But as I have decided, you shall suffer how I decide.” With his other hand, he pointed to a short, bespectacled man. “Radio the gunners. I am ordering a full broadside on the traitor’s ship, immediately.”

“B-but, sir! At that close range, the backblow damage—”

“Will be minimal!” cut in the Admiral angrily. “The Indomitable will withstand such a paltry blow and need little more than a fresh coat of paint. Now, do not question me again or I shall replace you.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” said the man as he began relaying the orders.

Turning back to Gilda, the Admiral leaned down. “I will teach you one last lesson. No one rebels against me, Almada. My leadership is unquestionable. Any of those foolish enough to betray me will reap the proper rewards. And for you? That splintered dinghy of yours will suit the world much better at the bottom of this cursed sea. That is my decision. Yes, most pleasing.”

Gilda’s mind blanked as she seethed, a terrible fury burning behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth and spat, launching a splatter of blood and saliva on his clean, white pants. “Fucker,” she said in a low growl.

“You… dare… You dare!?” he yelled, slamming his foot down again and again. “Enough, lesson learned. Now, I’ve wasted enough time. Goodbye, Almada. Die knowing you’ve done nothing but get everyone who trusted you killed.”

Again, he took steady aim and began squeezing the trigger, a rictus of fury on his stern features the only sign of how she had squirmed under his skin. Again the moment stretched. Death was coming, and Gilda knew there was nothing she could do to fight this one.

Reality snapped back as the ship lurched, hard, nearly throwing the Admiral off his feet. Quickly he regained his aim on Gilda, shouting over his shoulder, “What the hell was that!? Report!”

One of the pirates spoke a few words in a small radio and, after a couple of squawking replies, said, “S-sir, it’s the… the Ire Wind! She’s attacking our ships!”

“WHAAAAT?!” roared the Admiral as the ship shook again.

Babbling Lips

“Go go go!” Lew cried, raising his rifle and taking out a pirate on the deck of the Indomitable. “First line, covering fire!”

The turncoat pirates who had been on the deck raised their weapons and fired up at the much larger warship, causing the enemy there to scatter and duck, as Lew’s men came topside and raised ladders to begin climbing. Despite the covering fire, return fire began raining down on them, and Lew saw a few of his men fall to the ground, wounded or worse.

Suddenly there was a terrible cry and a dark shadow leapt from the deck to over halfway up one of the ladders. Throwing off the ragged cloak, Princess Luna let out another battle cry and raised a spear toward the ship in challenge. Lew could only guess that she must have gotten it from Zecora. Again, Luna threw herself up, going over the remaining rungs and the railing, thrusting forward as she landed. An unfortunate pirate who had been aiming down fell back, his chest pierced and then torn as the warrior princess ripped the spear free and move down to her next target.

Shaking his head in disbelief, praying she would be OK, Lew lined up his next shot but was thrown wide and nearly off his feet as the ship’s port guns fired at one of the circling pirate ships. On their mad rush to come alongside the Indomitable, they had fired and managed to seriously damage one of them and, due to their proximity to the warship, were now hopefully too risky a target for return fire. Still, they needed to keep boarders off of their flanks as they assaulted the pirates, so some of Lew’s men were to keep up the cannon fire.

The first of the Guardsmen approached the top of the ladders, their swords at the ready as they threw themselves over the railing and into the fray.

Lew took another pair of shots, watching as his men covered their fellows climbing. More and more of his men were reaching the top, but he also saw the unit medics treating the injured, pulling the wounded back to cover. He gritted his teeth every time he saw them approach a body and leave it, the cost of the attack growing one lost life at a time.

It was then he noticed something odd. At first they had met somewhat light resistance--unsurprising considering the Admiral’s men had been fighting off Gilda’s pirates from the other side. Now more and more of the enemy were turning to repel the Guard.

Taking one last shot, Lew slung his rifle across his back and leaped as high as he could, grabbing a rung of the rope ladder and scaling up to the Indombitable’s deck. His men had thrown various crates and large coils of rope from the deck into a makeshift barricade as they allowed more of his men to climb aboard. Throwing himself behind an already bullet-ridden crate, he ordered his men to better cover and firing support as he leaned to the side. It was then he had his answer.

“Why are Gilda’s men retreating?” he asked aloud.

“Forthright’s men must be pounding the piss outta ‘em!” one of his men--a Jerry Frissee, if he recalled correctly--exclaimed, grimacing from his cover. He rubbed at a shoulder, where a bullet had just barely grazed the skin.

Beginning to reload, Lew frowned. “They’re not attacking her ship are they?”

Jerry shook his head. “Not yet, sir. Guessing they might try to board it, close as we are!”

“Well thank Elondrie for that--but we need to get out of this pin!” he called in between taking a pair of shots. Both sides were more or less frozen in place, hiding behind cover and taking shots that tnged harmlessly against the deck or fwmped on wooden crates. “Is the fore assault team boarding yet? The sooner we get this pincer up, the better.”

After a moment conversing with a comsman, the soldier replied, “Boarding now--and apparently that warrior woman you found is really showin’ ‘em up, sir!”

Despite the tense situation, Lew laughed. He could well imagine. “As soon as they’re in position, we need to find the target and neutralize him, ASAP.” He looked around and noticed something that had been nagging his subconscious. “Wh-where the hell is the princess?!”

Jerry rose and took a quick shot before falling back down and reloading. “She leapt over the railing, never seen a damn thing like it, sir, poked a few people before pulling out that old peashooter of hers. She fought her way to the ladder down--I assume she’s meting out old-fashioned princess justice.”

“Damn it!” Lew swore hard. Most likely she was fine, but… “The fore team needs to get in position now!”

“Too damn right, sir!”

Lew patted the man’s shoulder and began taking more shots, wondering if he should be praying to Elondrie for his princess or for the men she was stuck with.

Zecora dashed across the deck, a blur of speed as she juked to cover, running like a woman with a deathwish, unafraid and bearing a stone-cold stare as she moved closer and closer to her prey. Mac followed suit, albeit far more cautiously, moving from his cover only during a lull in fire from the loyalists.

Peaking from over a set of tossed about crates, Zecora offered a doggish grin, snapping forward once more, sprinting on the deck in a dead run towards a group of three men distracted by Lew’s group. When she got within a body’s length to them, one turned his gaze to her, returned to Lew, then did a double take as she charged, spear at the ready. She impaled it deep within his sternum, the blade vanishing into his body like a grim magic trick. Before he even fell dead to the ground, she moved to his companions, reaching to her side and withdrawing a knife. In what was almost a gesture from a ballroom dance she pirouetted, stabbing one man in the neck, withdrawing the weapon in the same fluid motion, then tilting her chest back, dodging a surprised, fearful swing of the last man’s gun. She shot her hand forward, pulling the gun away, then striking once more with the knife, all but disemboweling him with one thrust and hard pull.

“Elondrie…” Mac said, feeling sick. He sucked in a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down in the midst of this hell.

“Where’s the Captain?” a voice loudly asked amid the panicked group.

“Hell! I dunno!” another replied, rubbing a hand over his bandanna and looking up towards the deck of the Indomitable. “Last saw her when we went scrammin’ down those ropes.”

Alice lowered her gun, having seen everything through the sights of the rifle. She quickly turned to the big man beside her and cried, “What are we gonna do, Will?! She’s done fer, out there!”

Will looked away from the sights on his gun and turned his attention to Alice. “We stay safe. You stay safe,” he instructed. “Gilda wouldn’t want her whole crew getting wiped off the map.”

“How can you say that?!” one of the crew snapped. “I ain’t givin’ up on the cap!”

“Same!”

“Here here!”

“Fuck her orders!” another cried.

“Fuck ‘em!” several bellowed in agreement.

“Idiots!” Will shouted. They paused, only briefly, before the sound of gunfire grew louder still. Squinting towards the deck, Will shook his head. “They got company.”

“If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is!” one of the crowd called out. Will gave a considering nod, before looking to Alice and putting a large, meaty paw on her shoulder.

“Stay here. Watch us,” he instructed.

Alice frowned, shrugging off his hand. “And if you guys get killed too? What the hell do I do?! I’d rather be with you guys than that Admiral asshole.”

“I’m not gonna let you get shot up,” Will countered. “And don’t swear,” he added as an afterthought. “You’re just a kid.”

“Would ‘just a kid’ have even gotten here in the first place?!” Alice shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

No, but maybe an idiot might have, echoed almost tauntingly in the back of her mind.

Will looked to the men then nodded towards the stairway leading to the deck. “Let’s go.”

Alice gave it a few seconds, watching them storm out, then followed the crew. She kept her head low when she was in the open, staring as the men grabbed hold of ropes and swung themselves across, leaping into the carnage, ready for the fight.

She bit her lip, watching them go. Only a few crew members were still left with her and they were busy making sure the ship didn’t separate from the Indomitable. She flexed her hands, then grabbed hold of a piece of rope. Staring across at the enemy ship, she sighed, taking a few steps back with the rope.

Closing her eyes, she gripped the rope tighter. The only reason she was here right now was because she was stupid enough to make the choices she had. As her family might say, she had made her bed. Now it was time to lie in it. No regrets.

With a burst of speed, she sprinted forward then jumped, physics guiding her towards the other ship. She opened her eyes then let go, screaming and flailing as she fell right into the mess.

“Look out!” she screamed, wincing as she met contact with an enemy pirate, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Thanks for the save, missy,” a man said, presumably from her side, as he delivered a killing blow to the prone pirate.

Alice flinched. “Er… no problem?” She hastily crawled off the dead man and wasted no time in running through the frenzy, trying to find Gilda.

A man, clutching a horrifically bleeding stomach stumbled down a flight of stairs, landing hard on the deck. He let out a choking grunt, blood and saliva bubbling to his lips as he took in a slow, shuddering breath.

Alice shuddered, the contents of her stomach threatening to rear their ugly heads by way of her mouth. She covered her mouth with a hand, almost retching and nervously stepped past the dying man, heading towards the bridge.

“Gild…” he stuttered out, drunkenly moving his hand towards the stairs.

Alice glanced in their direction, wasting no time in climbing them. Her legs trembled as she scaled them, each step feeling more painful than the last. Her head was pounding from all the gunshots and her stomach felt like a bubbling cauldron.

Finally, she came to a heavy door. Grabbing hold of the handle, she opened up it slowly, the din of the battle obscuring any noise the door hinges would have made.

What she saw almost made her give away her position. Gilda was alive and for the most part totally unharmed. There was just one issue: the Admiral had his gun pointed to her head. Worse, he was surrounded by at least a dozen men that she could see. At the moment, it looked like he was yelling at them for something, rather than giving Gilda any attention.

What can I do, what can I do, she thought to herself frantically, looking around. Her heart started pounding, the headache from earlier returning. She had been running on adrenaline up to this point, pulled in by the excitement of the others and her worry for Gilda. She had even shot… She had even…

The Admiral continued yelling, but the gun never wavered from Gilda’s head. In her heart, Alice wanted to do something to save her. Something, anything, no matter how foolish or stupid. But, as she fell to her knees, time slowing as the hard reality of the situation she found herself in sank in, her mind drew a blank.

Gilda…! No!

The seconds ticked by as her mind raced, and her heart pounded. She had to think of something--fast!

It was there and gone, almost faster than he could comprehend.

A blur of red hair running up a flight of stairs. But Mac knew, he knew it was her. Rubbing his face, he took the plunge, lowering his body and taking off at a sprint, his feet slapping the deck deafening him almost as much as the bullets pinging and crashing into the ship. He blew past Zecora, who watched him with surprise bordering on alarm, past a group of pirates. A few noticed him, recognized him from earlier, but the Admiral's men drew their attention enough that they made move to pursue him.

He began rising. Climbing up the stairs two at a time to catch up. He had lost sight of her, but—there!—saw a door not quite closed. His gut confirmed it. That was it. That was where he was needed.

He gripped the latch and pulled it open, entering, hoping and praying he was not too late.

I’m coming, sis. Hold on!

Turning to his men, Forthright barked questions and curses, demanding to know what was going on outside. For the moment, his attention was not on finishing his captive. The Admiral distracted was Gilda’s best chance. Hell, her only chance. She shot to her feet, ramming into him and grabbed his wrist, twisting the weapon away from her.

Growling, she wrestled with him, struggling to free the gun from his hand.

“You’re… dead,” she snapped, slapping his wrist against her thigh.

The gun flew from his hand as he snarled in anger. “Not from a whelp like you, girl!” he yelled, slamming the heel of his palm against her ear in a massive blow. Flexing his other arm, he wrenched it free and shoved her away from him.

Stumbling backwards, she fell, landing hard on her ass and glaring daggers at him. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she shot up, making a desperate lunge once more for him.

The man sidestepped her, his features hard. Immediately her eyes saw his dropped gun on the floor in front of her. She half-dove, rolling over her side as she scooped the gun up and turned to face him. Gilda squeezed the trigger.

There was a loud cracking sound and then a massive weight slammed into her thigh followed by burning heat. A crimson trail leaked through her clothes and dribbled onto the floor.

Another gun in his hand, the Admiral took a single step towards her, saying, “No more talk--goodbye, Almada.” Again, he lifted the gun at her.

But before the end could come, the double doors on the far wall broke open, followed by a group of familiar faces--her men!

“Save the cap!” one of them cried as they charged, swords waving and pistols firing.

Gilda dove to the ground, grunting in pain as she landed on her wound, but at least avoiding another bullet in her. The Admiral and his own men leapt for cover--though not before one fell dead, his head split open, and another pair catching grazing shots--and began firing back as the room exploded into chaos.

Crawling away from the chaos, Gilda hid behind a desk, sweating. With a hiss, she gave a tender touch to her wound, then pressed down harder to stop the bleeding, nearly crying out in pain when she put heavier pressure on it.

Through all the madness and bullets flying, a girl running through the room looked less noticeable than it had any right to be. Alice covered her head with her hands, sprinting her very hardest. She flinched and screamed as she heard the gunshots, the roars and the pained screams of the crew around her. But she didn’t get hit. At least, she thought she didn’t.

Her legs fell out from under her, but she slid on the well-polished floor, sliding along until she was right behind the cover that was giving Gilda refuge. It surprised her--she was pretty sure carpet burn hurt worse. She’d always imagined the pain would be unending.

Then it got worse.

She pinched her hand, hoping that pain would distract from the burning sensation her leg felt. When she stopped, she gave it a quick rub. It was warm, but she didn’t feel much blood--she realized she had only been grazed. She let out a slow sigh. She was ok, for now.

“Kid?” Gilda asked, almost disoriented as she stared first at her wound then at Alice. “The… fuck?”

“Yeah. Was kinda thinkin’ the same thing too,” Alice breathed, approaching closer and trying to peek at the wound. “Lemme see.”

“Don’t touch it,” Gilda snapped. “It’s sore.”

“I know, I know…” Alice took another breath, running a hand through her hair. She looked over at Gilda’s men, then back to her. “What the hell are we gonna do?!”

“Let’s get out of here. Captain or not, I don’t think they’re stopping until this shit calms down.” She gestured towards a doorway nearby. “Maybe through there? Fuck, I don’t know.”

“B-But you’re bleedin’!” Alice exclaimed, gingerly moving a hand towards the wound.

“We’ll be bleeding a lot worse if we don’t get out of here!” Gilda snapped back. “That fucker could come after us any second, my boys or not!”

“Get up then!!” Alice shouted, taking Gilda’s arm and placing it around her shoulders.

Gilda stumbled over, nearly dropping to a knee, but finally stood, leaning heavily on the girl. They ran forward amid the chaos, Gilda tripping but still keeping righted, until they came to the door. Pulling back from the girl, she leaned by the wall, breathing heavily.

“Rotate the wheel on the door. Get it open.”

“On it!” Alice replied, grasping the wheel. She grunted as she used what strength she had to turn it, her hands hurting from the amount of pressure she was applying to the thing.

“Kid!” Gilda said, furious. “Turn it like you mean it!” Adding to her point, a bullet pinged overhead, making both of them jump.

“I’m tryin’!” the girl protested, using all her upper body strength now. As the wheel slipped the right way, she almost fell into it, putting a hand against the wall to keep herself steady. “There!”

Gilda turned, pushing into Alice and forcing her inside. “Go!”

Alice stumbled, bringing her hands to the floor so she didn’t fall over in a heap. Recovering quickly, she turned back to check on her companion.

“I’m right behind you!” Gilda said, glaring across the room. “Fucking move it!”

“Mac!” Lew called again. “Ma--ack!” His cry was cut off as Jerry tackled him down.

“Watch it, sir. Lose your damn head and, well, you’ll lose your damn head!”

“Thanks, Jerry,” he breathed, getting back to a crouch. “But what the hell. You saw that, right?”

“Right I did, sir,” the man replied. “Your friend seem a little suicidal lately?”

Lew shook his head. Confusion wracked his mind. He had been about to order the fore team to pincer the enemy with his own when Gilda’s men charged from the other side again. It seemed like a lucky break, but then Mac had broke through the line on his own, stampeding towards the ship proper. Last Lew had seen of him, the man had rounded a corner that the captain assumed led to the upper deck.

Gilda’s men, too, had beelined for the cabin doors. Now was their best shot.

“Alright, men!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Order the attack--let’s show them what the Royal Guard can do!”

The men and women of the Royal Lunar Guard called back and began moving, their countless hours of practice and drills allowing them to advance almost as a single organism. Orders were relayed and followed as naturally as breathing. Shots rang both directions, but his men pushed forward.

“I’m going on ahead, Jerry. You and the others can mop up here,” he told the man as he slung his rifle and pulled up his cloak. “I’ve got to find Mac. The Princess. Mac’s sister. Everyone, it seems!”

“Let me go with you, sir!”

“No,” he ordered, adding, “I’ll need to move quick and quiet. It’ll be easier to avoid the enemy alone.”

“But you can’t go alone, sir, that’s suicide!” the soldier protested.

“Suicide, perhaps, for one,” a woman’s voice announced. Zecora stepped forward, rubbing her hand across the blade of her knife in a quick effort to clean it. “But with two? It shall be done.”

“Zecora?” Lew asked, genuinely surprised at her sudden appearance. “What was Macintosh all about, do you know?”

“I saw the man charge right on through.” She turned, gesturing towards the starboard side of the ship. “Up the stairs, after a girl with a red-head hue.”

Nodding, Lew said, “I suspected as much. There’s little else he’d charge like that for. Well then. What are we waiting for?” The young man held out a hand to Zecora. “Let’s finish this, shall we?”

She looked at the man’s palm and quickly shook it. “The dawn approaches, Lew.” She nodded her head towards the stairwell. “Quickly now, with you.”

Giving out the last remaining orders, the pair waited behind as the Guardsmen fought back the Admiral’s men. Seeing their chance, Lew took the lead towards the cabin doors, opening one quickly and gesturing for Zecora to enter. Hot on his heels, she ducked inside, and Lew closed the door in after them.

“Let’s find the ladder up,” he whispered. Zecora nodded, putting a finger to her lips in a silent agreement.

The two moved quickly and quietly, listening carefully for any activity inside. The thick metal walls had muffled the sound of the battle outside, though it was occasionally broken by a deep thud of cannon fire. As they hurried down a corridor, they heard a commotion coming from the far right. As they found a side passage, they passed into a larger room that looked like it was used for storage or something of the sort.

Some of the Admiral’s men were fighting with Gilda’s. Most had abandoned their guns and were in melee. They hadn’t noticed the pair’s entrance.

Mouthing, “Over there,” Lew pointed toward the far wall where a set of steep steps led up.

Watching each other, they moved from cover to cover along the back wall, slowly approaching their way to the upper deck. A man, holding his gut as his lifeblood bled away from a wound, noticed them. Before he could sound the alarm, Zecora almost casually snapped forward, plunging a knife into his throat and pulling it free. She was already gesturing for Lew to press on before he collapsed, eyes already clouding over in his last moments on earth.

Just part of the routine at this point, he thought, scanning his eyes over every potential target, every potential threat. As he moved in tandem with the islander, Lew noticed how much easier it was to stay calm. Something about the way the woman moved, the way she held herself… It simply seemed as if, with her help, they couldn’t help but have the upper hand.

But would it hold against the Admiral? As they made it to the staircase and ascended, Lew knew the ultimate test would be on the upper deck.

Another door behind them and the fighting downstairs became as muffled as that outside. Lew let out a sigh of relief. “One step closer.”

“Keep your eyes open. Who knows what man could drop in,” Zecora remarked.

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Same to you. And keep an eye out for a little red-headed girl.”

Zecora snapped out her hand, catching Lew by the chest. She cupped a hand to her ear, looking up.

Raising an eyebrow, the captain stopped and tilted his head. After a moment, he whispered, “You’ve got better ears--what is it?”

“They shall make no fool of I. I distinctly hear a child’s cry.”

Without a second thought, Lew said, “Run, now!” and took off, true to his word.

Zecora only hesitated for a second before following, hot at his heels. The pair tore through the hallways, booted feet slamming loudly on the floor.

Lew traced what he knew of the ship’s design so far, based upon the older Torani ships he had become more familiar with in his exodus from home. No matter the size or purpose, they were all based on the same basic design principle. So he hoped, as he made his guesses on a left here and a straight through there, that he was leading them to the ladder for the upper deck.

Another right turn and he saw it, just as expected. He pointed to it and gestured for Zecora to move up first. “If either of us is going to be seen, it’ll be me--at least you can get up first.”

She nodded, already grasping one of the steel rungs of the ladder. “Very well. All I ask, is that you, Lew, are to watch my back.”

“We’ve come this far. Now let’s save the day, yeah?”

Chuckling, she scrambled up the ladder like a monkey, vanishing away from Lew’s sight in a matter of moments. He gave it a moment and, hearing nothing, began climbing himself. Approaching the opening, he slowly rose his head up, looking around. The ladder was on a far corner, surrounded by a small metal wall. Probably to prevent anyone accidentally falling in.

Satisfied it was safe, he climbed on out, doing his best to stay low. Zecora, flatter than he believed possible, was behind the wall. He quickly took a place beside her.

On the far end of the ship, facing each other down, was Mac on one end and the Admiral--with Alice held in a painfully tight grip--on the other. Another woman he assumed must be Gilda was on the floor near the Admiral, her face set in a furious grimace.

The Admiral shouted something at the big farmer, lifting Alice up from the floor by her arm and waving a pistol in her face. As Mac dropped his weapon, defeat mixed with anger twisting his features, Lew raised his rifle. But as quick as he was to try the shot, he swore and lowered it. From this position, the way the Admiral held Alice, she was shielding him from the side. He had no shot. He had no time.

“Damn!” He grit his teeth and raised the scope back to his eye. Seconds--you’ve got seconds, Lewellyn! Make it count!

Sinking Ships

Gilda turned back towards the girl, shuffling forward into a long stairwell. “Up!” she barked, gesturing up the landings. “Move!”

“Why’s the woman with a bullet in her telling me to move?!” Alice cried, using both her hands and legs to make the climb up easier for herself.

She said nothing, gritting her teeth and climbing up. Finally, she spoke again, spittle flying as she hissed, “Because the next one might kill us.”

Alice fell silent for a short moment. “A-Alright. But I’m not leaving you behind either!”

“Just get out of here!” Gilda snapped. “Haul your ass! That’s an order, you dumb sack of shit!”

“But—” When Alice turned, she saw Gilda’s face and the expression she witnessed could have only been described as ‘furious worry’. She nodded. “Fine! Fine,” she said, gaining more speed.

As they rounded the landing, the sound of footsteps became louder. Alice grew further and further distanced from Gilda, until the woman trailed behind almost an entire floor. Upon feeling the sea breeze upon her face, she started to slow down, hoping Gilda would show up only seconds later.

She waited and waited, but the woman never came. From below, she heard a yell, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Heart leaping in her chest, Alice went back to way she came, holding out a hand to balance herself as she rapidly descended the stairs.

Gilda lay, sprawled out on the stairway, looking up at the Admiral.

“Hello, girl. Thought you could get away?” He gestured with a gun towards Alice. “Be a dear, child. Help this lost lamb up and climb on up to the deck, yes?” His voice was calm, back to its paternal tone, which conflicted with the rest of him. His perfect uniform had been smudged in places with blood and sweat, but little of it was the Admiral’s. He bore no more than scratches, and the muscle of his body showing through tears and cuts added a primal aura of danger beyond the pistol in his hand.

Alice froze up, eyes drawn more towards the weapon than anything else. She nodded stiffly, her movements almost robotic as she went down to help Gilda up and bring her onto the deck, the Admiral watching every second.

“G-get out…” Gilda said to Alice, staring at her like a drunkard as the girl cupped her hands around Gilda’s arm.

“I-I can’t,” Alice stuttered, dragging Gilda along. “Sorry…”

“You…” Gilda growled, her vision sharpening for a moment, glaring daggers at the child.

Approaching her, the Admiral slammed the butt of his pistol against Gilda’s head. “Silence! No one asked you.” He smiled at Alice. “This dear child merely knows when its best to listen to her elders, unlike some.”

Gilda limply hit the ground, unmoving for a long moment, before she rose her head up. Blood ran down her nostrils and over her lips. Despite the injury, an eerie, queer smile came over her. “Elder is right. You’re burning the candle wick even if someone doesn’t fucking fill you full of lead.”

Ignoring her, he growled at Alice, “Keep moving or she dies, now.”

Alice stood in front of Gilda, jaw dropping as she the amount of blood dripping down the woman’s face. Then she looked at the Admiral, how he stood so apparently tall and mighty, prepared to finish her off when she had beaten her enough already.

Just like a school bully.

“N-No,” Alice stammered, clenching her fists and standing over Gilda.

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, as the Admiral slowly rose a thick eyebrow, focusing it on the girl. “...what?”

“Y-Y’all heard me,” Alice said, trembling. “Or is there too much hair in yer ears for ya to hear proper?”

“Alice. Go,” Gilda quietly said.

“And let this bully kill you?!” Alice shook her head. Her bow, now awfully tatty and worn, swayed with her movements. “Family ‘n’ friends? They stand for one another. That’s… that’s what I’ve always been taught.”

“They got one another’s backs…” Gilda looked over to the Admiral. With a yell, she threw herself to the side in a desperate ploy to tackle him. “Alice!”

But blood loss and the exertions of the fight had left her drained. As she hit him, the wind left her lungs when she slammed into his solid frame. He looked down at her, leering, before backhanding her to the ground. Then, in one swift motion, he reached out and grabbed Alice’s arm, wrenching it powerfully as he lifted her off her feet, bringing them face to face.

“Let me tell you about your ideals, girl. About family. Friends.” He spat the words, twisting them to curses. Then he gestured to the broken and bleeding Gilda, still dazed on the ground. “That is all such drivel leads to. A short and pitiful death. Do you understand?” He placed the gun against her temple. “The only things that matter in this world are power and the strength to obtain it. That is all the world recognizes, all that can change this world to suit you. Nothing else is worth a damn!”

Alice squirmed, trying to wiggle herself free from the iron like grip the Admiral had on her arm. She looked him in the eyes. “I’d feel sorry for ya… but I think yer jus’ a li’l wuss.” With those words, she defiantly spat at his face.

The pressure on her arm exploded as he gripped tighter then slung her against the railing. Picking her back up, he brought her close. “I brought together some of the hardest, most difficult men these seas have to offer, whelp. They listened to me. They fear me. No w-wuss could do that! These men who terrorize you soft, pathetic civilians. You all hide behind your Navy, your Guard, your Queen. And I’m the one you hide from. I deserve respect! So I won’t have you showing me such insolence, you insignificant fucking insect!”

A shot rang out, exploding a block of concrete near his ear. A giant of a man stared up at the Admiral, slowly walking up the stairs. “Only bug I see here is ‘bout ta get stepped on.”

The Admiral turned, moving Alice between himself and the farmer, holding the gun back to her head. “Enough! Interruptions! Fire again and she’ll face the consequences!”

Feeling the cold metal rest against her skin and seeing her brother for the first time in way too long, Alice’s vision started to blur with tears. “Oh God, Mac… help me!!”

Mac hesitated, looking towards Alice, then staring up at the man. “You wouldn’t,” he said plainly.

“Wouldn’t I!” he screamed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. With more composure, he added, “I won’t, provided you do all I say. Exactly as I say it. Prove as much a fool as these wenches, and I will. Make no mistakes, boy. I will no longer be tested.” He paused, taking a careful look at Alice and Mac. “I take it, by that unholy shade of red in her hair that you share, you’re related. A daughter, perhaps?”

“Sister,” he said, his face a mask of calculated indifference as he lazily observed the man.

“Sister then,” the Admiral said with a nod. “Well then, be a good brother and drop the weapon. I’ll be taking my leave off this ship--when I reach the gig, I’ll release her. You have my word.”

“So far, ‘yer word’ involves beatin’ women-folk and snatchin’ kids.” He narrowed his brow.

“Tsk tsk. That’s merely etiquette. My subordinates know the price for betrayal. It’s simple proof: I keep my word. And I will keep this, rest assured.” He glared hard. “Now your weapon. Throw it aside. I grow impatient.”

He rubbed his palm on the pistol’s grip, debating. A part of him thought he could take the shot from here. But Alice might…

Finally, he sighed, stepping forward and letting the weapon drop off the railing. “Let her go.”

With a hearty chuckle, the Admiral nodded his head slightly. “Good man. A good brother, who knows who his betters are.” A wicked grin split his face. “Shame to kill you all, then. But I didn’t get where I am by leaving enemies alive. Goodbye, girl,” he said to Alice as his finger squeezed the trigger.

There was a loud crack, nearly drowned by the scream of fury and anguish from Mac’s throat, and then silence as the Admiral fell back, reflexively throwing Alice to the ground. A glimmer in the sky caught Mac’s eye and faded as he caught sight of the Admiral’s pistol flying through the air.

“Move again and the next shot goes between your eyes, Forthright,” called out a voice from the far side of the deck. Kneeling, rifle aimed and steady, was Lew, with Zecora right behind him, her spear in a reverse grip, ready to be thrown. “Alice, you alright?”

Alice rubbed her arm, a sore looking red imprint now on it. She gazed up at the sky, which seemed to move by itself. “I’m okay… who… wha…?”

“Alice, I need you to get up, OK?” Lew said calmly. “Grab Gilda and go to Mac.”

Her head pounding, Alice rubbed her eyes, vision slowly focusing. “Right, right… on it.” She rolled over, getting onto her hands and knees and crawled her way to Gilda.

“You’re… Captain Shields? Lewellyn Shields?” asked the Admiral conversationally.

“Quiet,” he replied.

“So young to be a Captain of the Guard… But, really, boy, we’re on the sea now. Do you really think you’ve won? With your landlocked Guard and this pirate rabble?”

“I said quiet! Mac, get your gun, get your sister.”

Mac took a step forward. “A gun?” He took another step forward, popping his neck. “Nah.” Slowly ambling forward, he took to rolling his wrist, popping his fingers, then, when he was mere feet away from the Admiral, he shook his head. “Know somethin’?” he asked the man.

With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, “What?”

Mac offered a wry smile. “I don’t give a shit ‘bout ya.” He let a hand rise and fall around him. “Or any of this. There’s always gonna be people like you. People that think they’re bigger than everyone else walkin’ the street. News fer ya: where I’m standin’ at? Yer awfully small. Like a—how’d ya put it?—fuckin’ insect. Nothin’ else needs said.”

“Grrr.... You…”

“Mac, back away. We’ve got him,” instructed Lew.

“No, no, Captain,” the Admiral cut in. “By all means. Let the little man justify his ignorance.” He idly flexed his arms, shrugging them lazily. “Go on, brother Mac. I’m the insect? Prove it.”

Mac glanced over to Lew, nodding. “If he pulls a gun…” he instructed, not needing to finish the sentence. The captain nodded back, keeping his rifle at the ready.

Shrugging off his torn coat and revealing the muscular physique underneath a simple vest, the Admiral laughed. “I shan’t need one. Not for this.” Turning to Lew, he asked, “And if I win? Let me go, Captain. Consider this a sanctioned duel, yes?” Lew said nothing, but he knew the man had a point. The Admiral rolled an arm and cracked his knuckles. “This will be fun.”

“For me? Eyup.” Mac’s expression finally broke into a hard grimace. “Hope yer fists are as quick as yer mouth.”

“And I hope whatever pitiful little job you do has prepared you. I’ve taken down men twice your size, over the years. First in the Navy, three times a day, then amongst the seediest, nastiest back alley scum you could imagine. I’ve overcome all the cheats, all the drunken, drugged-up berserkers I’ve ever come across. And I’ve never been beaten. Putting it simply...” Slamming a fist into his palm, he said, “I will annihilate you.”

“Ya talk too much,” the man said. “Quit stallin’. Yer boys ain’t gonna bail ya out of this.”

The Admiral responded by taking his stance--it was a fairly standard boxer’s stance, but looser, owing to the man’s recent years of fighting dirty more often than not. It wouldn’t just be about skill, and certainly not about form. There was a fire behind his eyes, a hidden rage that had sparked but was only now being allowed to blaze to life. It cried for bloody murder.

With a building yell, the Admiral stepped forward and launched a left swing for Mac, powerful but controlled. A testing blow. Mac brought up a forearm, blocking it, then took a left-handed jab of his own toward the Admiral’s stomach.

He took the blow, giving a small grunt before grabbing Mac’s wrist and slamming down with his right palm right in the middle of the farmer’s forearm.

Ignoring the painful sting, but mentally thinking how much that damn thing would swell later, Mac went even closer to the Admiral, snapping his forehead towards the man. This caught him off guard, but only for a moment.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he roared, emphasizing the last word with a tight spin that shot his elbow for Mac’s sternum.

Mac let out a pained oof! at the strike, nearly buckling in two. Forgoing finesse, he shot forward, wrapping his powerful biceps around the other man in a bear hug. The Admiral glared hate at him as he pushed out, a vein popping out in his neck the only evidence of his struggle against Mac’s immense strength. Smirking, he slammed the heel of his foot onto Mac’s toes, grinding in viciously.

Mac aggressively grinned, showing off his teeth. “Fighitin’ dirty? I can too.” he mocked. With a turn of his body, he shot a knee forward, aiming for the Admiral’s groin.

But the older man caught it deftly, turning it to the side and landing a left hook in the process, pushing Mac away. “When you fight with pirates, boy, you learn anything goes--anything to be the one that walks away alive.” He charged, bringing a series of haymakers, right, left, right.

One caught his face and he recoiled, stumbling back. The rest he caught the tempo, blocking high, low, center, then offered a sudden uppercut at the other man’s jaw. The Admiral fell back. He wiped at his mouth, then spat a gob of blood to the deck before coming at Mac again, this time more controlled, more cautious.

Lew watched carefully, amazed at the fight. He was tough, Guard-trained and able to handle his own, but both Mac and the Admiral were just so damned strong. They gave terrible blows and took them, only showing pain at the sharpest of hits. As the pair slugged and grappled their way around the deck, Lew could only root silently for his friend’s success.

Mac pushed the Admiral back and brought a hammerblow down onto his head, then swung once more for the man’s jaw. This one merely connected with a raised shoulder and then Mac found himself falling back as the heft of his enemy slammed into him, bringing them both to the ground.

The Admiral tried to give a headbutt of his own, but it lacked any real power behind it as they hit the deck. He jabbed his fist into Mac’s side again and again. Mac shifted focus, turning and pinning the man to the ground. Wrapping his meaty hands around the Admiral’s neck, he squeezed, hard enough to set the veins in his arms alive.

Contorted in rage, the Admiral’s face turned brighter than a beet before slowly darkening as he tried to jerk his body one way or the other, hoping to dislodge the big farmer.

“Ain’t so brave now, are ya?” Mac hissed out. “Know what I see in yer eyes right now? Yer scared.”

From between his lips, reddened spittle bubbled, the only result of his trying to talk. His nostrils flared as he pulled an arm out from under Mac’s leg, then another. He gripped Mac’s wrists and dug into them with his thumbs, then clawed both his hands to dig in with all his fingers. He scratched and twisted frantically, finally striking lucky and getting a finger in Mac’s eye. The farmer let out a surprised gasp, pulling back reflexively and rubbing at it, before delivering a kick to the man’s side.

Breathing heavily, the Admiral let out an animalistic scream and scrambled to his feet and tackling at Mac, low. He slammed into the farmer’s stomach before ramming his palm into his side. He lifted up his head, catching Mac’s chin. Balling his hands together, he raised them high and brought them down into his neck.

He followed it with another slam, and then another, driving Mac down to his knees. Seething, the man said, “No one bests me, no one!” He reared back and delivered a crushing left to the farmer’s jaw. “Me, scared? Meeee!?” A wild right. “I will show you your place!”

Furious, the man grabbed Mac’s shoulders and delivered a powerful knee to his chest. He took a few steps around Mac, saying, “This is what happens to those who think less of me.” A swift kick to the side. “And when I’ve crushed your skull, know this. For your transgressions, the girl?” Here he gestured over to Alice. “She will pay the price. A bullet is too good for her, a complete waste of a golden opportunity! While not my usual stock in trade, I do happen to know one little island, off the Kvaat mainland, where she’ll make a killing on auction. Oh yes--nothing to the bounty on the Princess, but a fine little treasure trove in her own right!”

And he laughed. He roared with laughter.

One of his eyes had already swelled far beyond being able to see out of it, but his other sparked to life at the man’s words. Snapping a powerful leg forward, he struck true at the man’s kneecap. The way it seemed to buckle said one thing to Mac. It was shattered. The bastard’s howl of pain as he fell to his one good knee confirmed it. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Mac rose, towering over the crippled man. He reached down, hoisting the man up by the scruff of his shirt, effortlessly bringing him eye to eye.

“Go on. Think ya were sayin’ somethin’ funny.” Mac snapped. For added measure he adjusted his grip, once more wrapping a hand around the Admiral’s neck, while his other went to the man’s injured knee. He delivered a hard punch to it without even a flinch of remorse. “Ya can pound on me all ya want. But nobody, nobody touches our girl.”

“W-w-wait…” the Admiral hissed.

“Told ya earlier. Ya talk too much.” Mac adjusted his grip on the man, throwing him effortlessly over his shoulder as if he were a sack of grain. Taking a deliberately slow march to the edge of the roof, he lifted him up in both his hands. “Nice view,” he commented, turning the man to let him see the long fall down. Mac paused for only a moment, looking behind him towards Lew and Alice.

Lew gave him a small nod, seeming to say, “Put an end to it.”

He turned his gaze forward, standing on the edge. “Look away, Alice,” Mac instructed.

“M-Mac…?” she stuttered, holding Gilda’s hand as she lay on the floor.

“I don’t want ya ta see this.”

The girl slowly nodded, looking down at the floor before closing her eyes.

With that done, Mac gave one more adjustment of the dead weight in his hands, then threw the Admiral over his head.

Time seemed to slow as Forthright fell. He started backward, but quickly turned and plummeted headfirst. The scream that escaped his lips was terror and rage and frustration as he saw the deck approach, felt the chains of his death that he couldn’t avoid. His plans, his ships, his men… It was lost. Lost like his blue horizons, now replaced by polished woodgrain.

And then it was black for Admiral Forthright.

“Can—can I open my eyes now?” Alice asked, her eyes tightly shut.

“Don’t look down,” Mac said. “Don’t look over the edge.”

“O-Okay,” she replied, opening her eyes. She looked to her brother, then down at the woman beside her. “Gilda…?”

Gilda wiped at her bloody face and weakly rose to a kneel. “Kinda beat up, but…” She sighed. “I’ll live.”

“Okay, o-okay…” Alice breathed, lying down on her back. Her body ached, her ears were ringing and her mind felt like it was about to implode on itself. She lay there, biting her lip, trying not to show any tears.

“We’ll make sure of it,” said Lew from behind her. “A medic is on his way. So don’t make any trouble, deal?” His face was smiling, but his hand hovered near a pistol holstered at his belt.

Gilda let out a small laugh and winced at the motion. “If I had a gun on me, I would of shot him already.”

Lew laughed with her, but his hand never moved as he stood. He walked over to Mac. “He’ll have some pain meds for you too. Not much he can do for your face, though.”

“Ain’t too bad. Ever been bucked by a cow?” Mac asked, reaching up to touch the swelling and wincing despite the dismissal.

“Can’t, uh, can’t say that I have, no.”

“Guess it’s right ‘bout how it feels.”

“Well, let the medic look you over. That was one helluva fight! Remind me to never piss you off,” Lew said, gently clapping the big man on his shoulder.

Mac snorted. “Doubt ya have it in ya ta make me that mad.” He returned the clap, then glanced over to Alice. “Excuse me.”

He approached the girl and dropped down to a knee, spreading his arms out for her.

She didn’t need any prompting. Immediately she got up and ran to the big man, burying her face in his chest and crying into it. “I-I’m… I’m so sorry!!”

“I thought…” Mac swallowed, tears leaking from his good eye. “I thought I mighta lost ya.”

Alice shook as she cried, hugging Mac as tightly as she was able. “I’m sorry… I j-just wanna go home. I missed,” she sniffled, “I missed you, I missed Jack, I missed the farm! I’m sorry I’m sorry…” she kept repeating, sobbing.

“Al… ya…” He was halfway debating between hugging or strangling her through his tears. “Ya can’t never do somethin’ like that again. If ya were gone… ain’t no way me or Jack’d manage, understand?”

“B-But… I’m not as useful as y’all. That’s why I went off, to try and be, I dunno… useful.” She sniffled again, wiping at her eye. “I’m an idiot.”

“We’ll find some way ya can help. Jus’ not this. Alright?” He hugged her once more, pressing her tightly against his chest, as if he couldn’t believe she was there in front of him. “Elondrie…” he stammered out. “It’s like a damn dream.”

“I’m sorry, Mac,” she said once again. “I love ya.”

“Love ya too, girl.” He reluctantly broke from her and rose, grimacing. “Now, come on. Let’s get everyone taken care of.”

Alice nodded, rising with him. She held his hand, grasping it tightly.

Lew was talking with some of his men that had arrived, but when he saw the pair approach he turned to them. “The battle should be about over--but we can’t risk the rest of the Admiral’s ships deciding to fire on us. We need to get back to the Crystal Chaser now that we’ve got everyone,” ordered Lew. He started heading for the stairs down, then stopped in his tracks, slapping his hand against his forehead. “Not everyone--the Princess!”

As if on cue, a terrible screeching sound filled the fair. A quick look brought to attention a loudspeaker near the cabin wall. The screeching continued for a moment, followed by silence. Then, “This is Luna Aldis Orleith, rightful sovereign ruler of the Torani nation. It is my immense pleasure to report that this ship, stolen property of the Torani Navy, has been rendered completely under my control. For any in doubt, the traitorous, so-called Admiral’s corpse marks the bloody proof. You are defeated. Lay down your arms, or they will be removed by force, and surrender to the nearest Royal Guard. By order of your prin--by order of your Captain.”

Lew smiled and looked at the others. “Well, I guess that should come as no surprise.”

“An’ ya said ya didn’t wanna get on my bad side.” Mac chuckled.

“You’ve no idea,” Lew replied, laughing himself. “And look! The remaining pirate ships--are they leaving?”

Sure enough, most of the ships had already disengaged and were fleeing the waters. All save for one with ropes attached to the Indomitable’s port side.

It took her several long moments, but Gilda rose and limped towards the group. “Figured those fucks would be too stubborn to let me go,” she commented, though her voice housed a pleased tone to it.

“I was impressed, believe it or not,” Lew said. “They fought well. They’re very loyal, your crew. For pirates.”

“You’re Goddamn right,” she smugly agreed. “Best in the business. Could probably even take on your Navy, if we gave some thought on our attack.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Lew said flatly, “Let’s not test that.”

Gilda smirked, but said nothing. She turned, giving a limp towards the stairwell. “Well. I guess I should get while the getting’s good, huh?”

Lew gave her a blank smile. “Oh you’re not going anywhere, Miss, uh, Gilda, was it?”

Her smile faded and she observed the man, her eyes slowly turning cold. “That a fact?”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Lew took a few steps, his back turned, saying, “Well, there’s the obvious fact that you and your men are pirates. That would be enough. But on top of that, we have consorting with traitors to the crown; we could probably swing attempted murder of the island natives since you were in league with the Admiral; and, of course, there’s plenty who would believe you kidnapped my friend’s sister, there.”

She bristled, taking a step towards him and clenching her fists. “You shut the fuck up about the last two. Part of the reason I stabbed the cocksucker in the back is because he wanted to go after the fuckin’ grass-skirt spear-chuckers!” She threw a palm to the side, towards Alice. “And this little shit was a stowaway. By code, I’d have to toss her overboard! Don’t you pin that on me too!”

“Hey, wait a minute!” Alice cried, wiping her eyes and walking over to Gilda, standing in front of her. “So what if she’s a pirate? What if she had to become one? That doesn’t mean anything! I know that sometimes she can seem a bit…” Alice grimaced, looking up at Gilda. “Difficult, but that doesn’t mean she’s bad. All she’s ever wanted in this madness is me safe. She was doing all she could to make sure I was away from her. I didn’t leave though, ‘cause…” She smiled at the captain. “She’s my friend.”

“Kid…” Gilda shook her head, amazed at the girl’s defense. She muttered an almost unhearable “Thanks.”

Alice grinned up at her. “Still think I’m a dumb sack of sh—” She quickly shut herself off, looking at Mac.

The captain took this all in, then nodded his head. “Mmm, perhaps.”

“Besides,” Gilda continued, starting out calmly, but getting more heated with every word,” there are enough people out there that’d put you as deserters and betrayers to the crown! Don’t you dare get high and mighty with me you pissant!”

“I serve the crown,” Lew snapped back. “Princess Luna is Torani’s rightful ruler. The law is, ultimately, on our side. And you have broken it, Elondrie knows how many times. I must do my job…” He paused and let out a low sigh. “The fact remains, you’re pirates. You would have kidnapped the Princess had your internal feud gotten in the way.”

“And we could do that right now if you don’t let us walk away right now.” Gilda grit her teeth. “What you say? Wanna test my boys?”

“Both of ya shut the hell up!” Mac roared, drowning the two out. They stopped for a moment, looking over at him. “Gilda. Yer a pirate, ain’t no gettin’ ‘round that. But—” He raised a finger towards Lew. “But she’s a pirate that took care-a my sister. What if she had taken care-a Twila? Would ya shut the books on her that quick?” He shook his head. “All this bickerin’ ain’t doin’ us no favors. We’ll talk this out. Calmly.”

“Your words are appreciated, Mac, but I’ve already made up my mind. I just have two more questions,” Lew said quietly. “One: You care about the men under your leadership, right, Gilda?”

Gilda seemed ready to snap again, but she glanced over at Mac and Alice and sighed. “As much as I’m guessing you do yours.”

Another nod. “Then don’t be so quick to throw their lives away for your pride. Most are wounded, some are dead. They’re in no shape to fight. And second--now wait a minute before you yell at me--second…” He tilted his head ever so slightly. “I’m somewhat unfamiliar with them, and you don’t have the strongest accent, so forgive me if I’m wrong but… You’re from Kvaan, aren’t you?”

She stood for a moment before she gave a small gesture, an open armed bow, as if to self-insultingly say here I am. “The Hawk Soars, knight-captain.”

“Well, then…” Lew turned and, to her surprise, he was genuinely smiling. “My mind was made up when I saw that Alice was still alive and unharmed. Captain Gilda, you’re a criminal, there’s no doubts on that score. But you’re also, in your own way, a good person.” He held out a hand to her. “I think a pardon might be in order in exchange for your services. If that suits you?”

She looked down at his hand, then back up to his face. “Services. Such as…?”

His face hardened, just a bit. “Yes or no, Captain? A gift horse like this doesn’t come around so often you can look it in the mouth.”

Gilda shook her head. “This shit is why we don’t like Torani politics. Ultimatums out the ass.” Finally, she reached forward, shaking his hand. “I’ll have my eye on you.”

“Maybe not,” he said, shaking her hand solidly. “How do you feel about going home?”

Gilda froze, looking both confused and suspicious. “Home?” she repeated.

Sailor's Delight

As the sun settled low in the sky, Lew climbed back up the stairs to the upper deck where it had all finally come to an end.

Well, not all of it, he thought morosely. The real fight starts now.

There, silhouetted against the sunset, stood Luna, her hair waving lightly in the breeze. It was odd, seeing her with her hair down. Somehow it made her seem more fragile, mortal and vulnerable as opposed to the impeccable warrior and leader he knew her so well as. It surprised him, how reasonable that seemed now. Before, it would have been unthinkable, that such a universal force as Princess Luna would seem anything but herself. But one such universal force had changed.

And everything had changed with it.

“A penny for your thoughts, Captain?” came Luna’s quiet voice.

“Just thinking about… everything. And nothing. Life, your Highness,” he said as he took a spot beside her. After a moment, he added, “A few of the pirate captains who retreated have hailed us. Seems Alexander wasn’t the only merchant the Tyrant’s activities pushed to piracy. They’re willing to work for us, in exchange for time in the Navy once the… conflict is over.”

Luna made a silent grunt, but said nothing.

They both stared, quiet, at the sea. The waves were small, even, gently breaking against the steel hull. A calming, staccato rhythm resulted, playing with the light breeze to form a soothing toon. It was an oddly peaceful night, an unnerving close to what had been such a violent day.

“The night comes,” Luna said, breaking their silence. “Ever since I can remember, Captain, I have felt… easier during the eve. Most children fear the dark, but not I. I,” she stopped, idly laughing. “I can remember all the times Father and Mother punished me for staying up past curfew.”

“There’s something I’d never thought I’d hear.”

“I suppose we’ve both been thinking about everything. And nothing.”

Again, silence but for the crashing of the waves, as the last of the sunlight faded and the first stars began appearing overhead.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go to Kvaan, my lady?” asked Lew tentatively. “At least let me go with you…”

“No.” Her reply was certain, but not hard. “You told me, not too long ago, of your fear, Captain.”

“My fear?”

She nodded. “Yes, of having to choose between your duties as a husband and your duties as the Captain of my Guard.”

“Oh. Yes. That.”

She gave him the softest, kindest smile he had ever seen her make, saying, “You do not have to choose, Captain. I’ve made the choice for you. Take the Crystal Chaser, a contingent of the Guard. Go to the northlands and save your wife. I will order it, if need be.”

“I…” Lew stopped, finding the words dying in his throat. He choked back a sob as he felt the cool wind evaporate the tears on his cheeks. “I thank you, my lady. I shall not fail to save the Lady Grania and rally the Torani reserve.”

“There is also that. But save your love, Captain. I think the big Apple and his quest for his sister has proven that to us. It is what makes us strong. Our dearest, strongest connections, bolstering our hearts and uniting us as one.”

Touched by her words, Lew almost missed it. The words between the words, the things unsaid below those lines. “My lady, your sister…”

She turned an eye to him and, this time, he could not miss her own tears. “Sometimes saving the ones you love, Captain, requires that you save them from themselves.” Luna raised a hand and cupped his cheek, softly. “Save her. Succeed. We will need all the good news we can find in the coming days, Captain.”

Lew saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I promise, ma’am.”

“Besides, the warrior, Zecora, will be joining me. She seems to think she owes me some life-debt and must guard mine. So, tomorrow I will take this ship and, with the woman, Gilda, head to Kvaan.”

“Do you think she will remain trustworthy, my lady?” Lew asked, though he wasn’t sure he doubted the deal they had made.

The princess nodded. “I seem to recall seeing some old photos of the current Kvaat Warlord’s children… In particular a daughter.” She laughed at Lew’s shocked face, but cut in before he could speak with, “It will be weeks, or even months, before we meet again. Do not lose your edge. My Guard Captain must be the best of the best, understand me, Lewellyn Shields?”

His back straightening again, Lew replied, “Yes, ma’am!”

000

Gilda stared at the water, a cigarette long forgotten in her hand as the stars shown overhead. She sighed, unbelieving at the shit she got herself into now. With a scowl, she threw her smoke into tides, watching it float briefly before vanishing from her sight.

“Home, huh?” she muttered to herself, letting a derisive snort out. She rubbed at a bandage, frowning. It looked like her wound was weeping again. It’d need a bandage change. Eventually. With a disgruntled scowl, she turned, intending to head to her cabin. It was gonna be a long couple of days, no doubt about that. And the travel to her home would be the least of her worries. When she was actually back… that’s where the real problem was gonna lay.

“Wait up!” Alice cried from behind, running up to the woman. She looked scruffy, her bow now in an irredeemable state but she herself was no worse for wear.

“Hell you doin’ here?” Gilda asked, cocking her head. “Don’t you got a brother to be with right now?”

Alice scratched the back of her head. “He’s sleeping. They gave him some medicine and it put him under good. He’s fine, though. I jus’ wanted to see ya before I… y’know, went back home.”

Gilda reached to the girl, giving a tussle of her hair. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I reckon I did.” Alice smirked, batting away Gilda’s hand. “And I wanted to say thanks, too. You never had to look at for me. But ya did, and I think you’re the reason why I’m still here. I still don’t really know why you watched over me but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.” She smiled, lightly punching Gilda’s arm. “You’re kinda like family now. Even if Mac might not agree with me.”

“Just don’t even think about doing it again, you little shit,” Gilda retorted. “I might not be so nice next time.” She returned the smirk, clasping Alice’s shoulder. “Guess that’s all that needs said, huh?”

“Not everything,” Alice said, her smile fading. “You’re goin’ back home now, right?”

“I guess. That asshole wants me back there, so…” She wryly smiled. “Don’t have much say in the matter.”

“You’re gonna be okay, right?”

“I’ve been through worse.” She scratched a cheek. “Though Lew might not be so keen on the whole diplomatic approach when he finds out some stuff about me.” Gilda offered a smile that was at least an attempt to be genuine. “But hell, you don’t worry your head, kid. Something’ll work out.”

“I just wanna know if I’ll see ya again,” Alice said, rubbing her arm.

Gilda paused, the silence the only noise between the two for minutes, before she reached down into a pocket, producing a weathered gold coin. She squatted down to Alice’s level. “See this thing?” She gave a small shake of it. “This is my most favorite thing in the world. Grandpa stole it off a Torini soldier he killed during a skirmish. Dad had it, now me.” She reached forward, taking Alice’s palm and putting it in. “I’m gonna want it back. Just have it ready when I knock on your door one day.”

Alice blinked, staring down at the coin in her hand. “Are ya sure…? This is a family heirloom. Your family heirloom, ya gotta keep it with ya!”

“All the more reason you should have it until I want it back.” Gilda rubbed at her neck. “It just gives me a reason not to get my dumb ass killed over there.”

The girl laughed quietly, gripping the coin tightly as she stepped forward to give Gilda a hug. “Gonna miss you. You and ya dirty mouth.”

Gilda scoffed but returned the hug regardless. “Watch yourself, Alice.”

000

Zecora watched from beside a crate as the captain and his princess talked. She had no interest in eavesdropping, rather, she had simply decided to escape the relative stuffiness of the ship’s interior and take in the night sky, but overheard the two engaged in what seemed to be deep conversation. So she stood, leaning her arms onto a crate, and drunk deeply into the late evening ambiance.

Her tribe came to her thoughts. Though she considered herself a better leader than the man she left in charge, she knew he had what made a leader: a good arm and a better heart. He’d do fine until her return. This was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. A hunt far greater than one she had ever experienced before.

And, judging by the sounds of footsteps approaching her, her prey was finally out in the open for her to stalk.

Slowly, clearly lost in his own thoughts, Lew descended the outer steps from the upper deck to the lower. His hands were in his pockets--he was unarmed. And, very quietly, he seemed to be humming a soft tune to himself.

Zecora rose to a stand, giving him a small nod. “A beautiful evening, isn’t it, Lew? The shorthand of your name—may I use it with you?”

Lew was impressed that he barely jumped at all. But he knew it was a testament to how concerned he was at his future mission. He returned her nod. “I consider you a friend, Zecora. So of course.”

She smiled at him, bringing two fingers up to her neck and giving a small bow. “We fought together, that is true. I consider you a friend too.” She gave a tilt of her head after a moment. “A victory was ours today. How many losses, by the way?”

The young man shook his head, his expression turning dark. “Too many. But thankfully few… The medic’s are twenty-four-seven with the injured, though.”

“It’s a number that could be less, but I believe we all did our best.”

“My men do good work,” Lew agreed. “They are the best of the best.”

“Your men are good, I will not deny.” She offered a sweeping hand to the woman still watching the water. “Your queen holds a power too, of which you all imbine.”

“The Orleiths are… something special,” he said slowly. “Bigger than life, y’know?”

Zecora chuckled. “A presence like hers cannot be unseen. It is no wonder she is your queen.”

Looking at the woman standing stock still, backdropped by the endless stars, he shook his head. “As amazing as she is, powerful, impressive, and any other word you might care to name… She wouldn’t have any of us call her queen. She is our leader, our princess, but never that.”

“A queen is a leader that is right to rule. Why a princess, if I may ask of you,” Zecora remarked.

“It’s somewhat difficult to explain,” he started. “But the word… It’s important. The title, it has deliberate meaning. It always has, in our history. And now... “ Lew let out a long, slow sigh. “Our enemy, back home? It’s our queen. Luna’s sister, Celestia. But it goes deeper than that. The… shock at her betrayal--none of us could have seen it coming. Pain like that…” He shook his head sadly, looking back at Luna. “Even though she betrayed everything it stood for, for us, there could be no queen but Celestia. For Luna, even more so.”

Zecora stared once more at the woman’s back. “A family’s betrayal… so vengence is her goal, her grail.”

“No,” Lew said sharply. Then, more softly, “No, it’s not revenge. For Luna--for any Orlaith--it’s duty, responsibility. To the name, the title, and to our people.”

“Duty, I see…” Zecora trailed off, crossing her arms. “Lew, may I ask for you to leave us be?”

The captain shrugged. “I’m off to get some sleep, anyway. Goodnight, Zecora.” He said this last as he left, waving a hand.

The woman offered a hand in return, then approached the princess quietly, not masking her stride, but not announcing it. She joined Luna wordlessly, sitting by the woman and simply observing the view.

Luna gave her a sidelong look. Then she grinned wickedly. “I suppose I should not be surprised. There really is no such thing as a quiet spot on a ship. Not that I mind the company.”

“The village was much the same. Children are the issue, I would claim.” Zecora said, smiling. Her expression died a bit, but she still kept as much of a hopeful expression as she could. “Your men fought, many to the last breath. Have you performed their rights to let them pass onto death?”

Her brow furrowing, Luna said, “Every Guard unit has an attached priest of Elondrie. For those interested, we of course see through their wishes. For my part, I have had little to do with religious matters. It has never much appealed.”

“I understand what you say. For my part, I will remember them, in my own way.” She took in a slow breath, taking in the view once more, before adding on, “The panther they follow still stands tall. It will take much more than that for you to fall.”

“One can only hope. It is, after all, what my entire life has revolved around.” Luna’s voice was low, as if from a great distance.

“Being the one that they look to… tell me, Luna, does it trouble you?” Zecora asked, lowering her own voice to match the woman’s.

The princess let out a quick snort. “An Orleith is born and raised to such lofty stations. And yet… I was the younger sister, so it was never my destiny to rule. So it is somewhat disconcerting, I readily admit. I do not mind it, but could well do without.” She laid a hand to a dagger at her belt. “This is all I truly wish out of life. To fight, to struggle. And to win.”

“That I can understand, at least. To struggle is indeed the nature of the beast,” Zecora said. She turned her gaze away from the sunset, to focus on Luna’s face. “It, perhaps, might make me sound like a fool, but I believe fully in your ability to rule.” Giving a nod towards where Lew stood moments ago, she added, “I’ve seen how you care for your men. Like a mother wolf within her pups’ den.”

“Coming from you,” Luna replied, smiling, “that is a true compliment. You honor me, Zecora. But for them it is easy, yes? They earn good leadership through good work. For an entire nation? Well, I have been trained, if not fully groomed for it. I have traveled all across the North, experiencing firsthand the nature of politics and governance.

“But, for example, as with a new weapon… One can study and practice the use of it, know everything there is about it. But the true test will always come when facing down your opponent. So until I am victorious and standing in front of that throne…” She let out a small sigh. “I will succeed, despite the uncertainty. That is who Luna Orleith is.”

“And that is who you will be.” She chuckled. “Part of how you interest me.” She rose, moving to the ship’s railing and resting her arms against it. “My blood-debt is part of why I leave this land. But I also want to sing a duet that’s grand.” Once more came the laugh, this one a hair self-conscious. “Perhaps that is the wrong word. Your people’s speech leaves my tongue absurd.”

Taking a place right next to Zecora, she placed a hand along the tribal woman’s shoulder before bringing it back to touch her own chest. “You and I are persons of action. I have had trouble with Torani myself, if the difference between Captain Lewellyn’s speech and mine own was not obvious enough. Talking with you is liberating, relaxing, but…” She gave a wink. “It grows late, and our journey begins tomorrow. For tonight, perhaps we could take our conversation in a more active format?”

“For all the words that come from your lips, the best truth does indeed come from your hips,” Zecora answered, running a finger down Luna’s cheek.

“It will be a long journey,” Luna said, taking gentle hold of Zecora’s hand. “Much time for hips and lips in ample measurements. The night has always been my favorite--but I feel my love for it growing as we speak.”

With that the pair headed away, eagerness touching on their steps, pushing them forward faster and faster as they retreated to Luna’s cabin. Left behind were the sorrows of the battle, the fears of the future. The waves rolled on, the ship rocked its inhabitants gently to sleep as the stars twinkled in a clear night sky.

Epilogue

The night sky was dark and thick with cloud cover, the fresh powder covering the landscape testament to the results. The first of the winter snows had been little over a week ago, but it had scarcely let up in that time. It was going to be a long, harsh winter.

But for the moment, the snow had taken a pause. Even the clouds were beginning to thin in places, breaking loose in the chilled, biting winds. The darkness that had hung like a funeral pall before now broke into a stunning brilliance, the full moon’s light free to showcase the wintry scenery below. It was painful, in its beauty, in its intensity, and in the memories it brought back.

Memories of free and happy days. Memories that seemed much more a dream, never to return and end the nightmare that was her life.

She let the curtains fall, blocking the gorgeous view but also the ugly bars that crisscrossed the window. That was her nightmare--the falsity of it all. The room was richly decorated, finely furnished. Her meals were excellent, though she hardly touched them.

But it was all false. A lie, a sham. It was a prison and had been for all too long now.

Cadence slammed a hand against the gracefully carved bedpost. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. She felt so stupidly helpless.

And it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

That’s what irritated her the most. Growing up, she had hated stories of the damsel in distress. The princess awaiting her prince to be rescued. Yes, there was a certain adorableness to it, emphasizing the femininity and how males liked to beat on their chests in defense of the one they loved. But taking it to the extreme as all those old stories did, that the woman was literally just a trophy for a man to win.... That had always infuriated her.

And yet here she was, a prisoner again, feeling absolutely powerless to change anything. Not that she hadn’t tried.

She pounded the post again. But that was only part of the problem, of course, she reminded herself. Though she hated the fictional concept of it, she was enamored by the fact that her husband was indeed a knight in shining armor when it came to her safety. The fact that she knew he had to be on his way hurt. In longing. In fear.

They had been apart for so long, since the world had gone crazy. She missed him. How terribly she missed him.

She could still remember, the day he had been declared a traitor, along with Luna and her entire Guard regiment. She hadn’t slept for three straight days, not until the news that they had taken a ship and left for parts unknown. That was when she knew: He had to be on the way to save her.

Taking a seat on the bed, she rubbed at her temples in frustration. The last time she had been held captive by the Shadow of Sombra cult, they had hounded her with questions near constantly. But this time, nothing. She had been escorted here, confused as to what was going on, then told in no uncertain terms that she was their prisoner. Again.

And that had been it. It still baffled her. The entire cult had been accounted for, all dead or captured thanks to her husband’s sister and their friends. So how had they come back? And what were they after?

Something told her she needed to find out, before Lew saved her. And if they weren’t going to give her the opportunity to learn… Well, she was no damsel. She could make her own opportunities.

She rose again, sliding the curtains aside completely. The landscape of the north stretched on. Hauntingly beautiful. Deceptively dangerous. Somewhere, across those snowy plains and forests, on the other side of the ocean, she could sense her husband’s presence. It was silly, she knew, but still. Her heart couldn’t lie.

“Lew…” she whispered. “Get here soon. Or I might just try something really stupid.”

The room bore no response as she stood there, watching the clouds blow back in. Soon, it was dark and snowing again. Slowly burying her deeper and deeper in her velvet prison.

Triumph

Macintosh sat on the port side of the ship, sweating as he fought back his seasickness. They had been traveling for hours now and every minute that passed got his stomach more and more upset. If there wasn’t the fact that the two rogues he had hired to escort him kept sparing glances to one another, he would have probably thrown up already. He glanced up himself after hearing one of their voices from fairly close by.

“Hey. How much longer?” Mac called out to him.

“Gilda has a half-day on us yet,” he quickly answered. “We know she traveled this way, but we couldn’t tell you how far. Could be hours from now, could be in a minute. Could be a whole ‘nother day.”

“Lemme tell ya somethin’ ‘bout the sea, boy,” said the greasy man. Mac had learned that his name was Darris, the other Jim. “She’s an unpredictable mistress. Ain’t no easy way to track ships you’re tryin’ to follow. And God help you if you run into an unexpected storm.”

“Do y’all think ya can even catch her?” Mac asked.

“She’s gotta stop sometime,” answered Jim. “That’s what pirates do. Go to different places, fuck people over, take the loot. These waters are lawless.” He shot Mac a dirty grin. “And shark infested.”

“Reckon a fella outta watch his step ‘round here then,” Mac agreed, staring evenly at Darris. “Bitin’ off more than he can chew is a bad idea.”

“Yeah. A lot more to survivin’ these parts than having big balls.” Darris tapped his head. “Gotta go be sneaky, too. Clever.”

“Which you aren’t,” said Jim, folding his arms and snickering.

Darris snorted, shoving him aside. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Now,” Mac started. “Deal was you were gonna help me find Gilda. Ya plannin’ on anythin’ farther than jus’ findin’?”

“Wouldn’t mind roughing her up a bit.” Jim shrugged, chewing on a toothpick. “Need more manpower for that though. But you look like you could take on a whole horde of scum.”

“If they try ta stop me,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Oh, they will. No pirate takes kindly to trespassers. The crew will ravage any poor soul who wanders into ‘em. Captain doesn’t even have to say anythin’,” Jim said, watching as Darris went off to tend to the ship.

Macintosh rose, ignoring the wave of nausea running a course on his body, and headed towards the captain’s quarters. “I’m gonna rest. Anythin’ comes up, bang on my door.”

“Yeah, will do,” Jim replied, already disinterested and wandering off.

000

A little over an hour later, the first edges of dawn were creeping along the horizon. Thankfully, the sky was clear. Perhaps the frequent storms would stay away for a while. The seas gently crashing into the rocky shores of the island seemed to support this, their rhythm easy and calm.

Lew’s legs silently screamed as he took in the strangely relaxing view. Though the Guard was incredibly well trained--with a focus on physical endurance for long combat--Luna had pushed him to the limits. The pair had nearly sprinted the entire distance from their camp to the shore, Luna’s quick eyes not spotting the flower. How she had time to look for such a small thing and yet still mock him for not being as fit as her…

“Captain.”

Luna’s voice broke his reverie and, taking in one last big breath, he turned to find the princess halfway up a large tree. This close to shore, it was mostly clear, but this one had weathered who knows how many storms and stood, tall and alone.

“What is it, Princess?” he asked, walking closer to the tree. “Tell me you didn’t find the flower up there.”

“No such luck, Captain,” she replied, her tone flat, serious. “I see lights. A multitude, upon the waves.”

He thought for a moment. “You think they’re ships?”

“Aye,” was all that came in response. After a moment of silence, Lew was about to ask what they should do when she said, “They appear to be moving on, further east. Save… Yes!”

“What?” Lew asked, craning his neck up, straining to see the darkly armored woman against the still dark sky. “Did you find it after—aah!” He jumped back, barely avoiding the princess’ landing as she leapt from the tree.

She fell hard to the mostly bare earth, but controlled, landing into a roll that ended in a crouch. Cracks had been left in the dirt where she landed, a testament to the force of her fall. However, the princess herself rose slowly, dusting herself off, completely unharmed. Lew looked up again. From that height, any other sort would have had the wind knocked out of them, at the least. Much more likely would have been the resulting broken leg or two.

“The hunt is over,” she said quietly, amusement in her voice. “And just beginning.”

“We’re abandoning the flower?”

She nodded, then pointed towards the coast. “For now, our target lies that way.”

Lew resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering the princess was less than skilled at conversing with others. “Forgive me, Princess, but what target?”

“Transport,” she said simply.

Lew blinked twice, then it clicked. “One of the ships is headed this way? You think they’re a raiding party?”

“It is possible,” Luna said quietly, rubbing her chin in thought. “Whatever their purpose, we must investigate. And, if fortune favors us, appropriate.”

“If it’s a large enough ship for our needs,” Lew explained, “it’ll be far too dangerous for us to try and take them by ourselves, y’know.”

“Possibly, possibly not.” She grinned widely. “Are you not man enough to find out? The very thought of such a challenge is...is… euphoric!”

The captain hesitated before his reply. He had known Luna--well, as much as anyone like him could know a princess--almost the entire time she had been back. His marriage to Cadence, combined with his position as a Royal Guard captain, allowed him to see the somewhat eccentric woman in more informal settings, where she could relax and act more like the warrior she had been raised to be. So he was well aware that, somewhere within her mind, the blood hungry fighter that Dorcis had tried to control in his bid for the throne still lived, still hungered.

But, he reminded himself, he also knew that she was so much more. When confronted with the truth, the realness of her sister’s love and the love of her subjects as seen by his own sister’s actions, she had proven true herself. So, though he was still somewhat worried at her perhaps overenthusiastic tendencies in regards to combat, he knew it was backed by her love for Torani and everything the nation stood for.

“If I feel we can take the objective safely, my lady, then I’ll be right there with you,” he said evenly. “We’ll have to do it sooner or later, that much is obvious. Just… Don’t take unnecessary risks, ok? I’m still the captain of your Guard, after all. I’m supposed to be looking out for you.”

Her dull blue eyes, like the dusk sky, measured him head to toe. She shrugged. “So be it, Captain.” She grinned again, then gave his shoulder a light punch. “You are something of a killjoy, but I understand the sense of it.” Turning, she started heading for the shore. “We shall take a slower pace, and try to scout them unmolested.”

“Yes, highness,” he responded, internally letting out a sigh of relief. “Right behind you.”

It didn’t take them too long to find the shore--nearly the only stretch they could see in both directions--where the ship had deposited two jolly boats and a launch worth of men. Another launch--also full, dangerously so to Lew’s eye--was headed in. The ship, too far in the dawning light to make much detail of, was likely large enough for their needs.

Luna agreed. “But I’m afraid acquiring the vessel is beyond our ability. Damn my tongue for saying as much. Still, let us observe--they may choose to move on, and leading the men to an empty shore is something I’d rather avoid.”

So they watched and waited, hidden amongst the last of the tall grass before it gave way to open stone, as a little over two dozen men--followed by another dozen in yet another pair of jolly boats, who crossed back and forth with supplies--set up camp, not so unlike the one that Lew and Zecora had wiped out the other day. Flimsy tents were set up haphazardly, under the direction of a roughly dressed man with a terrible looking, old burn scar covering most of his face. He carried a riding crop and proceeded to beat any of the men he deemed was shirking.

A pile of supplies--food and ammunition--was made in the center, and pickets set up. Lew said, “Seems there here for the long haul, at least. Though this group is a little more organized than the one Zecora and I assaulted.”

“Indeed? Well, by luck or skill, the foe has offered us a less than favourable battleground. They have little cover and no room for quick retreat, this is true, but neither will the men. If it was merely a question of numbers, we could win out but...” Luna mused. “Captain, sometimes it is too difficult being the, how you say, ‘good guy’.”

Lew could feel his jaw hanging open slightly, before asking, “That’s a joke, right?”

“It is,” she said plainly. “Have my jests not improved?”

“They’re, uh, getting better,” he said slowly, turning his gaze from the suspicion in her eyes. “I think we’ve seen enough, my lady. I’m sure we don’t want to keep Zecora and her people waiting too long for their honored guest.”

“You’re likely right, Captain,” she replied, wistful. “Well, let us return to our original hunt. Take the lead.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lew said, already retreating back towards the woods.

They moved in silence for a long while, Lew going over the landmarks that Zecora had instructed he watch for to get to her village. She had been rather detailed and insistent that he not stray from them in the slightest. He recalled her warning, given in that oddly attractive way she had of speaking in rhymes:

“My home is safe, removed from all eyes. With dangerous traps for a wicked surprise. Follow my route, not a step out of place. Only then can you find our hidden space.”

All the while, the princess had followed his lead, saying nothing. It was somewhat unsettling. Before, she had never missed an opportunity to needle him on, well, anything that she could think of. Some might’ve construed her comments as belittling, or judgemental. But Lew knew it was just her way of showing camaraderie. If he wanted, Lew knew he could do much the same thing. It just wasn’t his style.

What is on her mind? he wondered. It’s somewhat easy for me, a soldier. But to be a princess in such times? His mind couldn’t imagine how difficult that position must have been.

“Full stop, Captain!” she cried suddenly. Lew stopped, dropping to the ground and swinging his rifle to bear, sure she must have spotted some enemy attack. He took aim, left and right quickly, but could see nothing. Finally he noticed she was laughing. “Wha… What is it, Princess?”

“You--did you think us under ambush, Captain?”

“Uh…” He stood, shouldering the weapon and trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. “Just trying to stay alert, Princess.”

“Oh most assuredly,” she said, wiping away a tear. Shaking her head, she gestured. “Which is why you missed our target, as it is hiding so illusively?”

Lew followed her hand to see a small clearing around a pool, not too different from the one they had been staying at. The pool itself was fed by a small waterfall, a large, craggy rock formation rising from the ground giving it height. At the peak of the formation, Lew could just make out a vague, blue tint. Whether it was the flower Zecora had challenged them to find or not, it was definitely some sort of blue plant.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, squinting.

“The flower is mine,” Luna said, smirking. “I admit it has been fun, though I would have been far more amused to see you in that island getup. No doubt Cadence would have enjoyed a picture of that.”

“It’s pretty tame compared to our honeymoon,” he said quietly, smiling at the memory.

Luna arched a brow. “What was that, Captain?”

“O-oh! Uh, nothing,” he said, putting on a clearly fake cough. “Just a little parched is all.”

“Indeed.”

The pair approached the little oasis and found their suspicions confirmed. The flower seemed to practically thrive in this limited spot. Petals floated in the pool and dried, broken remains were scattered around.

The water itself looked cool and inviting, as the morning sun was shining brightly. Lew silently cursed--instead of intense cold or fierce storms, the day looked as if it was going to be searing hot. He knelt down, cupping some of the water. It was clear and delightfully chill on his skin. He drank, then emptied his canteen of the stale, warm water that was left to refill it.

He tucked it away as he took a long look at the small falls. It was likely somewhere between twenty and thirty feet high, a series of craggy drops back and forth that churned the water until it crashed below. There was no obvious path up. The sides of the formation were steep, with no clear places to climb without proper gear. As he doubted Zecora or her people had such equipment, he knew there must be somewhere to climb up.

He voiced his thoughts, saying, “It almost looks like you have to climb up the fall itself, doesn’t it, Princess?”

“Yes, I devised as much myself,” she said, her voice oddly muffled. He turned to her, then away just as quickly. Luna stood there, in her confident, no-nonsense way, completely naked.

“So, uh,” he said slowly, taking a few steps away, “I’ll, uh, just wait over here while you do that then?”

“What is the matter, Captain?” she asked, clearly amused as she stepped back into his view. “Am I such an affront to your senses?” She laughed.

Lew let out a resigned sigh as he gave up and just looked at her. “Well, no, that’s kind of the problem.”

“Problem?” Still that false confusion, more laughter ready to boil over.

“I’m not entirely sure Cadence would approve,” he offered.

“Ah! Your marital obligations for loyalty, of course. My apologies, Captain,” she said, turning back towards the falls. “I myself have never really experienced such matters. One forgets. But do not worry yourself! The marchioness is an intelligent young woman, and surely understands simply necessity.”

“Necessity?” Lew asked, confused.

She gestured to the falls. “Our goal is close, but to accomplish it I must climb. And a victory march in sodden garments is hardly the triumph I am after.”

“True. Well, good luck, Princess.”

Luna grinned widely. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Captain. I’ve overcome far more challenging obstacles in my younger days.”

With nothing left to be said, she leapt into the pool with a graceful dive, reaching the far end quickly. Despite himself, Lew watched as she treaded water for a moment, studying the formation for a way up. The ascent must have looked different from up close, because he still couldn’t see a way up when she approached the wall and began climbing.

Slowly, she climbed higher. Lew was impressed—not only in her ability to climb the bare rock, but doing so with the water falling down constantly, pouring over her head and no doubt making the rock slick and difficult to grip.

Twice, she fell. Lew nearly cried out, but the pool was deep enough and the fall short enough that there was no danger. When she reached about ten feet up or so to his estimation, the fall’s switchbacks began, and the princess had to not only climb but try and jump from one side to the other.

Despite what he said before, he couldn’t help but watch her during the climb, and seeing her in a manner not unlike many a young man’s dreams. The princess kept her body in top physical shape, but still retained a certain grace to her figure. An athlete’s body, rather than simply a muscle builder. She was paler than he expected, but on further thought it made sense, in its way. though an active person, Luna still had a preference for the nightlife. Fewer distractions and obnoxious sorts, she always claimed.

As she neared the top, Lew quietly watched, inwardly cheering her on and berating himself. It was only natural, he told himself. She was a beautiful woman, and he a healthy young man.

But not only are you married, he reminded himself, she is also your princess.

It wasn’t that he was thinking on doing anything. That wasn’t who he was. But he could, as his old squadmates used to put it, admire the scenery. And it just made him miss Cadence more.

Their honeymoon had been a wonderful two weeks in, cliche as it was, a tropical paradise. The queen herself had gifted them both with a private resort on a small island south of Somani. It had been just the two of them, with a few personnel on call when they were needed. They had frequented the villa’s pool, typically without swimwear.

Lew sighed again. He missed his wife. It wasn’t a new thought, or any sort of realization, just a reminder to himself of what he was fighting for. Princess and country were one thing--and he was loyal, absolutely--but his wife? His one and only? That was the sort of motivation that could keep a man alive against nearly any odds. Or so he had always believed.

As his heart filled with determination, he watched Luna finally make it to the top. There she almost reverently plucked a single flower, which she cupped in her hands as she dived back into the pool. Lew turned back away and, a few minutes later, was rejoined by the now-dressed princess, grinning like a child as she held the flower up in victory.

“Success, Captain! Ha-hah!” she cried. “Twas a simple thing, and yet such satisfaction I feel. The waterfall is immensely invigorating, especially on bare skin.”

“I’ll take your word for it, my lady,” he said, his own face broken into smile at her excitement. “The village isn’t too far, we should easily make it before dark.” A small rumble from his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. “Hopefully they’ll have that feast they promised us ready.”

“Ah, Captain, I share that hope. The goal may have been minor, but the feelings behind it are rich, deserving such a celebration.” She tucked the flower safely away in her belt pouch, then grimaced as she gently rubbed at her arms. “And more drink, I think. The falls are somewhat deceptive. Most of the rock is smooth to the touch, very difficult to climb. But there are many obstacles jutting from various places. Very sharp, almost like knives. I can not say I avoided injury altogether, though nothing too serious.”

“Are you sure?” Lew asked, reaching for his small field bag to see what medical supplies he had on hand. “I have some disinfectant and bandages here…”

But she was already waving her hand, dismissing the idea. “If it would impede me, I would have mentioned it sooner. No doubt I’ll merely share a few scars with our host. Now that I think upon it, I wonder if she gained at least some of them in a similar manner. Well, perhaps I should ask tonight. Let us be off!”

“Right away, Princess!” Lew replied, saluting.

Author's Note

Holy shit. Wonder if I have the record on site for longest haitus with this? Well, no matter. We're back and we'll be getting the rest of the chapters out post-haste to make up for the wait.

One for the road

“Another round!” Gilda called out, slamming her hand on the worn and splintered wooden table and holding her now empty mug up to the sky.

A meeker looking man wearing a striped shirt made his way through the crowds of people sitting down around the other tables of the belly of the ship. He poured Gilda a drink from a large pitcher he carried, then walked toward another raised mug on the far side of the room. Gilda drank deeply from her mug, then gave a content burp.

“Not too bad!” she proclaimed to the group sitting beside her, who responded with a wave of cheers. She looked toward the girl sitting next to her. “How you like yours?”

Alice took another experimental taste of her drink, licking her lips. “Not as nice as my family’s cider back home. Lot stronger though.”

“Well, enjoy it while it’s in the mug, kid! You’re one of us, and that means getting shit-faced before fights!” Gilda called out, slapping Alice’s back, then throwing an arm around the girl. “Tonight, you’ve got some adult responsibilities to share with us!”

“She’s pretty far gone already,” Will remarked from Gilda’s other side. “Been a while since I’ve seen her like this.”

Alice shrugged, seemingly taking it in her stride. Even if she was huddled away from the rest of the crew. “She’s not being all grumbly and snarly so much, so it’s kinda a win-win fer me.” She drank more rum, more than last time. “Not gettin’ drunk though. AJ wouldn’t think it was a good idea.” Frowning, she clutched onto her mug a little tighter. “She’s gonna be so pissed…” she murmured under her breath.

“If we don’t all die tomorrow,” GIlda chimed in, grinning as if she told a fantastic joke. She finished off her drink yet again. “Another!” she bellowed with a belch. “That’s why we gotta get you hammered tonight, girl! You need to experience being so wasted you can’t walk one time before biting it!”

“Am I gonna have to carry you to your room again?” Will wondered out loud, taking a deep swig from the massive tankard he held in his beefy hands.

“Why are ya even asking that? She smells worse than Dash does whenever her favorite sports team’s won,” Alice pointed out. “Or lost. Y’all don’t know her but she could drink a lot of ya under the table.”

“Bullshit!” Gilda replied, the glaze in her eyes briefly vanishing. “Nobody outdrinks the cap!” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Not on my watch! Where the fuckin’ bitch at? I’ll do her under the table!”

“Er, miles and miles away. Inland. I don’t think yer gonna be meetin’ with her for a loooong time,” Alice drawled out. She looked to Will, asking, “She’s not gonna pass out, is she?”

“No. Unfortunately,” Will remarked. “She usually can hold her own more than you’d expect from a woman her size.”

“My size?” Gilda snapped out, lobbing her gaze towards Will. “I’m bigger than all the fuckers here. Gonna be a king some day…” she drunkenly mumbled. “King with tits. Fuck this whole place.”

“It’d be a queen. That’s a king with tits, Gilda,” Will informed her. The giant man gave a shake of his head, finishing off his drink, then rose, walking through the crowd.

“Bullshit!” Gilda announced, not looking toward the empty spot Will did not occupy anymore. She turned to Alice. “You get a load of that fat guy’s shit? It’s like he wasn’t even around when I was a landlubber at Kvaan.” She laughed at the word. “Landlubber. Like we’re fuckin’ peg-leg pirates and shit or something.”

“I thought ya stole one of your crew’s fake legs fer a laugh,” Alice said, failing to hide a smirk. “Was pretty funny though.”

“I wish we had peg-legs. He just has a fuckin’ prosthetic.” She threw her hands to the side. “Where’s the fuckin’ laughs in that?” She grinned at Alice, giving a tap to the girl’s mug. “Join in the fun, kid. We’ll make a pirate outta you yet.”

The girl grumbled, drinking from her mug while rolling her eyes. “This is gonna be my only one, ya hear?”

“Then we’d better top off your mug!” Gilda replied, throwing her arm around Alice’s neck and rubbing her knuckles across the girl’s crimson hair. “Because the one-and-done crowd need something as hard as gasolene if they want my respect!”

“Gilda!” Alice cried, wiggling and struggling to try and escape the captain’s grip. “That kinda hurts, y’know!”

“You’re right,” she answered, relaxing her hand. Instead, she stuck a finger in her mouth and quickly brought it to Alice’s ear, twisting it inside. “This better, dweeb?!”

She winced, desperately flailing around even more like a bird trapped in a cage. “Eugh, Giiiiilda!” she whined. “I know you’re a pirate but a person’s gotta have standards!”

Will returned, a small keg held under his armpit. He cracked open the top with one hard pull of his meaty fingers and took a deep pull from it, pointedly ignoring the captain’s shenanigans.

“Nah,” she replied easily, finally stopping her torture, returning to her drink. “Standards are for people that like to pretend they’re better than you.” She glanced at the half-empty cup Alice held. “Will! Give our lil’ friend some love!” she loudly barked, making the giant briefly flinch. With a shrug, he brought the keg he held over and topped off the girl’s drink.

“That’s right,” Gilda agreed, holding her cup out to the two. “Toast!”

Alice held back a resigned sigh, drinking more of her rum to make it seem like she was making at least a little effort.

“What are we toasting to?” Will questioned, tilting his head.

The captain paused. “Fuck,” she finally said. She lobbed her head towards Alice. “The fuck we toasting to?”

“I think ya should toast to yer crew,” Alice said, gesturing to the rowdy riot going on in the room. “They’re gonna fight fer ya, soon enough.”

“The crew it is!” Gilda answered. She rose, putting a foot on the table. “Toast time, you knob-suckers!” she roared, looking around the room. The noise died down and hundreds of eyes fell upon her.

“To you soppy cunts!” she called out, raising her mug high. “A bunch of inbred, flea-ridden shits. But a bunch of shits that get the job done! And tomorrow's no different! So tonight we eat, drink, and fuck to our heart’s content!”

Saying this, she downed her drink and plopped back into her chair amid an almost deafening cheer of the others. Will gave her some drink from his keg and she happily complied, looking over to Alice. “You eat and drink all you like, ignore that last bit, though.”

“Glad you got enough sense in ya to say that…” Alice grumbled, resting her head on her hand.

“Who gives a shit about cents? We’re gonna be rolling in dollars after tomorrow!” Gilda replied, the girl’s comment blowing past her.

“Dollars?” Alice frowned thoughtfully, looking past Gilda to Will. “We gonna be making some money outta this?”

“Well, we aren’t doing all of this for free, Alice. We don’t have a vendetta against the princess or anything. It’s business.”

“That fuckin’ admiral though. That’s pleasure,” Gilda growled out. “I’m gonna enjoy that.”

Ignoring Gilda’s remark, Alice spoke on, rubbing her thumb on the mug. “Ya think… maybe I could get a cut? I will help! With what I can do… it’s not much but I’ll try. I just wanna go back home with something that’ll help the farm.” She took a quick swig of her drink. “That’s all.”

“You know what? Why the fuck not? We’ll be swimming in it when we all get paid! You work like an adult, you drink like an adult, you’ll get fuckin’ paid like an adult!” Gilda announced, slapping her back. “That right or what, you sack of shit?” she asked Will.

“Completely,” he agreed, pointing a meaty finger at Alice. “Work for your cash, then it’s time to get trashed!” Will boisterously laughed at his joke, then stopped once he saw Gilda wasn’t laughing.

“I don’t get it,” she said, blinking.

“It’s a rhyme. I’m sure you’ll get it next… time,” Will answered slyly.

Alice allowed herself a little chuckle, yet her face was still set in hard thought. “It’s just… what can I do? I mean, I help out on the farm but that doesn’t mean I’m like…” She gestured towards the burly men downing rum with each other. “Them.”

“Have a few more and it’ll come to you,” Gilda answered with a grin, once more raising her empty mug. “When in Rome, kid!”

Alice gave her a skeptical look, raising her mug to her mouth. She started to drink, at first steadily, then gradually getting more and more into it, her expression relaxing.

“Tasting better too now, ain’t it?” the older woman asked, nodding sagely.

“Yeah,” Alice said, giving her rum a lazy eyed stare, “kinda is.”

“Damn straight. Damn straight,” Gilda repeated. “You keep having ‘em, and things start making sense. Even this guy,” she remarked, slapping Will.

“So am I gonna get a gun, or a cutlass?” Alice asked, leaning more on the table.

“What if I said both?” Gilda answered with a wild grin. “One in each hand.” She swung her mug blindly and pointed her finger to the air. “Kakaow kakaow!” she said quietly, taking another drink.

A goofy grin appeared on the girl’s face. “That sounds like it could be cool.”

“Of course it’s cool. I thought it up,” Gilda replied, smirking. “Acting like I don’t think of cool ideas. Shit.” She cackled, her aggressive tone bordering on goofy.

“Ya startin’ to sound exactly like Dash,” Alice replied, snickering to herself as she drank more rum.

“Nobody sounds like me. You’re looking at a motherfucking OG.”

“A wut…?”

“Original Gilda, kid. Nobody’s touching this.” She cocked a thumb at her chest.

Alice promptly prodded her in the arm.

“Looks like she just did,” Will commented, drinking thoughtfully.

“Lucky I like you kid. I’ve broke fingers for less,” Gilda said.

“Ya wouldn’t do that,” Alice said, waving her mug around. “I’m jus’ full of, er, rogue charm or somethin’.”

“Rogue charm, huh?” Smirking, Gilda wrapped an arm around Alice. “Maybe you’re right, you little shit. You broke the rules enough I shoulda gutted you and tossed you overboard, but here you are.”

Alice didn’t freeze on the contact, like she might have before. Instead, she became even more relaxed. The laughs and shouts of the other crew didn’t seem nearly so bad anymore. “Yeah… thanks. For not, y’know, guttin’ me like a pig.”

“You’re welcome, kid,” Gilda answered. After a moment, she quieted up a bit. “Hey, Alice…”

“Yeah?”

Gilda looked at her for a long while. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nothing, drink up, kid.”

“Maybe I won’t ‘til ya tell me what’s up,” Alice said stubbornly.

She shrugged easily. “Your loss. I was gonna share something after you finished off that mug and one more, but… if you don’t think you can make it…”

“Hey! I’m a farm girl; I totally can do it and more!” Alice defiantly stated, picking up her mug with both hands and greedily drinking the contents.

Gilda snapped her fingers, bringing another mug to Alice. “Talk a big fucking game, hick. You sure you’re not shitting me?”

Alice readily took the mug and chugged down the rum, some of it missing her mouth and pouring down her chin, onto her chest and legs. Completely finished she slammed it down on the table. “Heeeell no!”

Gilda looked at her and crained her head back, howling with laughter. “Hell. I almost think we should pay you just for doing this tonight, what you think, Will?”

“She’s handling it better than you even, Gilly,” Will remarked, the casual name the only hint as to how the drink was affecting him too. “I bet she could even beat you in a contest at this point.”

“Yeah right,” the captain dismissed with a sloppy wave of her hand, spilling more of her drink onto the table. “She couldn’t even match me two to one right now! She’s a snot-nosed braaaat.”

Alice stood up on the bench, grabbing Gilda by the shoulders and shaking her about. “Yeah? Well, you’re a… a…” Whatever insult Alice had in mind was forever lost, for her eyes suddenly closed and she fell down onto the table, out cold.

Gilda gave the girl a small poke on the shoulder. “Alllllllice,” she drawled out, “don’t you wanna play no more?”

A drunken mumble came out from the girl. She stirred a little but by the look of it, she was down for the count.

“Not bad,” Will remarked. “That was what… four?”

“Fuck off, Will. She did fiiiive,” Gilda said proudly, shuffling to a stand, polishing off another drink, then getting a refill. “Pay up you big moron.”

Grumbling, Will reached into his pocket and handed Gilda a few crumpled up bills. “Where does it all go, I wonder?”

“Farmers have big stomachs,” Gilda answered, throwing Alice over her shoulder, nearly toppling over from the sudden weight. Will rose, catching the two, then, after a moment, putting his hand at Gilda’s waist.

“Ever tell you about back on mainland? Before alllll-a this,” she gestured out to the crowd as Will divided the waters, walking the two women past the others and towards the stairway leading to deck. “That farmboy?”

“I remember,” Will answered. “I was there and told you your mother would be pissed.” He slowly guided them up the stairs, pausing when it looked like Gilda was going to vomit, but in the end she held it down.

“Wasn’t she?” the woman said with a wide, challenging grin. “Getting drunk with a commoner. Fuck she didn’t like that.” The Kvaat shook her head, scowling and waving towards the night sky that grew with every step upwards they took. “Well fuck you, mom! I don’t even give a shit!”

Will said nothing, knowing that any words would just piss her off more. Finally, Gilda drunkenly grinned again.

“But yeah. I knew the lil’ shit would take a beating before going down. She’s gonna be dead to the world for a long-ass time.” Gilda lifted and lowered her shoulders, giving Alice a gentle shake.

“Long enough to avoid the fighting and then some,” Will agreed. “Might even still be drunk when she wakes up.”

“Good!” Gilda exclaimed, nearly toppling over. “She’s an annoying cunt when sober. Better like this.” Her stupor faded briefly as she thought. “Better she doesn’t wake up if it goes to hell, either. That’s the Goddamn truth, Will.”

“We’re not her family, Gilly—”

“Well no shit,” she snapped, pointing a waving finger at the man. “But—”

Will pushed the finger away. “But,” he emphasized. “If this is her last night, if this is all of ours last night, I hope we were a good replacement for her, at least.”

“I know I was,” Gilda slurred out, finishing her mug and then chucking it overboard with an exaggerated roll of her arm. “You just kept sitting there like a big sack of shit going ‘eeyup.’” She rolled her eyes. “Coulda joined our conversations.”

Will opened up the cabin door and guided the two inside. He lay Alice gently on the bed, then stepped out.

“Hold the fuck up,” Gilda barked, already half-naked as she changed for bed. She stepped out to join him and for a minute stared up at him while he stared down at her. Finally, she leaned into the massive man, hugging him tightly.

“You get hurt tomorrow, swear I’ll fucking kill you,” she warned. Will reached up, putting a hand on top of her head.

“Same to you, Gil. But I won’t get hurt. Because someone has to make sure you stay out of trouble. You’re like your father in that regard.”

She broke away from the hug and shrugged. “Get some sleep, you old geezer.”

He grinned. “The ‘old geezer’ still has some party left in him.” With that he turned and waved over his shoulder, before heading below decks once more.

Gila watched him leave, then returned to her room. Seeing Alice sprawled out on her bed, Gilda sat down briefly on the floor. After another beat, she rose.

“Fuck it,” she said under her breath, joining Alice on the bed. Looking at the girl for a moment longer, she gave her a small hug too, then a maternal kiss on top of her head.

“Sleep tight, kid,” she drowsily announced, pulling Alice tight against her. “We got you covered.”

000

Standing on the deck of the Crystal Chaser—Lew’s chosen name for the captured Ire Wind—the captain found himself calm and awake, despite a late and worrisome evening before. He had questioned Alexander for hours, double checking the plan, asking for as many specifics as the man could offer. When offered the promise of leniency for him and his crew, the man had proved surprisingly plient.

Lew had found out that Alexander and his men had once been a merchant vessel, traveling between the Somani isles and Torani. After the Queen had effectively lost her mind, scuttling his business and bankrupting him and his men, they had turned to piracy more or less as both a sign of protest and to make ends meet. They had proven only mildly successful and had fallen in with the Admiral to hopefully make a big enough score to retire from piracy.

With the potential payout from the capture of Princess Luna, they had felt this was there chance. So they had been assigned as scouts, the one-time Ire Wind being one of the smaller, faster ships. They were to keep an eye on Luna in preparation for the primary assault the next day. Lew had allowed him to order one of his men to report back that all was well and set for the attack.

With Luna’s permission, Lew had offered them relative pardons, provided they offered their services to the true Crown. When things had returned to normal, they would be required to serve at least five years within the Royal Navy, after which they would be free to go on their way. The men had agreed readily.

So, here he stood, dressed in borrowed clothes from Alexander--they were too short on the arms and legs, and a little itchy, but should suffice--and standing at attention amongst the pirate crew. The plan was to approach the Admiral’s flagship, presenting Luna from the deck. They would radio, announcing a lucky break in that they had captured her when she led an assault on their camp. Once they had approached the ship and tied off to it, they would board in a blitz assault, attempting to take the ship by surprise.

It was risky, but both Luna and Zecora had agreed that, under the circumstances, it was probably their best bet. So they had set sail. The fleet was gathering into battle formation a little distance into the open sea, around a craggy rock formation. The call was they would see the fleet in about fifteen minutes.

A thunderous rumble alerted Lew to the souring weather above. Thick, grey clouds were rolling in. Likely they would fight in the rain. Another rumble came—the storm was moving fast.

“The heavens prepare for struggle and bloodshed. A good portent,” Luna said quietly from his side.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lew replied just as quietly, looking her over.

The princess was wearing a large, ragged cloak, covering her leathers and weapons, but only just. Though her hands were brought forward and tied to the rail, a clever eye would note the slackness in the ropes, which would allow her to pull free whenever she wished. She stood with a slight hunch, as if tired or wounded. Lew only hoped the gamble would pay off.

“You doubt your plan so quickly?” she asked, giving him one of her usual, knowing smiles.

“It’s not that, it’s just… Waiting. I’m sure this will work, but I’ll be more pleased with it behind us.”

The princess was silent for a moment before asking, “You are thinking of your wife, the Lady Cadence?”

“Always,” he said quickly. “I will always remain loyal to Torani and thus to you, my princess. I made those vows and will never break them, or be derelict in my responsibility to them. But, by the same token…” He trailed off, not entirely sure whether to finish.

She finished for him with, “Neither can you abandon the vows of your marriage. I understand and bear no displeasure with you for it, Captain. There may come a moment when you must choose: duty to your wife or duty to your sovereign nation.”

“I… distinctly hope not, my lady.”

She tsked. “Such weak conviction. Know you not that I would support an endeavor to rescue the Lady Cadence?”

Lew’s eyes went wide and he turned to her quickly. “Princess, I couldn’t ask—”

But she cut him off, saying, “Nonsense. It only makes sense. Even after our victory here, we will need allies, as you said. The Kvaat, the Somani, the other independents… And the reserve of the Crystal Territories. Free from the clutches of the revived Shadow of Sombra. With these forces arrayed against my sister, we shall free Torani, now and forever.”

His eyes watering, Lew was about to give his thanks when he noticed the background rumbles of thunder had changed, ever so slightly. As his face wrinkled in confusion, he noticed that Luna had noticed the same thing.

She was the first to speak. “That sounds of no thunder I have ever heard.”

“Yeah,” Lew said, turning his head this way and that. “It almost sounds like…”

Then, near the rocky formation they were due to round within minutes, came three heavy splashes. Everyone on deck recognized them instantly.

“Cannon fire,” he and Luna said together.

Walking briskly, Lew moved to the wheel where Captain Alexander stood. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, anger in his voice as suspicions of treachery played out in his head.

The older man raised his hands defensively, saying, “Honest, Captain, this was no part of the plan that I was ever made aware of.”

“I’ll trust you for now. Helmsman,” he directed to the pirate at the wheel, “swing us further ‘round about that rock, let’s see what’s going on.”

“Aye, aye,” the man replied, giving the wheel a fast turn. A second after, the ship lurched to the right, then back to the left as the pirate turned the wheel back even quicker. The crew braced themselves as the ship made a wide arc around the turn, bringing the fleet into view.

It was chaos.

Two ships were sinking, one a floating pyre, lifeboats floating around, gathering struggling figures who had not made it in time. Three more appeared to have crashed into one another and were struggling to untangle themselves. Crew members scrambled aboard decks and across riggings, cutting and pulling and retying. The remaining ships had surrounded what Lew surmised was the Admiral’s flagship, the Indomitable, and another, smaller but still impressive ship who were also locked together in a boarding position.

“I’ll be damned,” whispered Alexander. “She did it. By God, but she attacked the Admiral!”

“The Gilda women you mentioned?” Lew asked, astounded.

He nodded. “I’d always heard she was good, but thought it was a load of shit, y’know? She’s a true pirate, born and bred. That’s for sure.”

“This changes a great many things,” Lew grumbled. “We have to help her! Rouse the men, change of plan--radio the pirates, telling them you’re here to assist. Then line ourselves up to where we can remove as many of those circling ships as possible. We’ll break through and board the other side of the Indomitable.”

A chorus of, “Aye, ayes,” echoed along the deck as the crew scrambled to their battle stations. Lew hurried back to the princess, saying, “I’m going below decks to organize the strike. You’ll need to remain where you are until we attack.” She nodded, distracted, the glint of battlelust reaching her eyes.

Taking the ladder belowdecks, Lew began yelling new orders, sending some of his men to ready the guns and others to prepare for boarding. Eventually, he found Mac and Zecora, waiting together, and approached them.

“Change of plans, you two,” he said grimly. “Ready up--we’ll be boarding as soon as we can. And Mac?”

“Eyup?” he asked, uncrossing his arms to rest them against his pockets.

Lew clasped one of the big man’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “The ship that Alice is on? It’s already engaged with the Indomitable. We’re going to move fast to get in there. I’m going to go with the princess after the Admiral, but I want you and Zecora to focus on reaching that ship and saving your sister.”

“Lew. You sure ‘bout this? I ain’t a crack shot, but I can help.”

The captain nodded. “I’m sure. This is important. And even though she’s the enemy of our enemy, I’ve no idea whether we can count this Gilda as our friend. Saving the only hostage is priority, then. Besides,” he added, his voice becoming somewhat emotional, “I’d want to get over there as quickly as I could and save Twila if she was the one captured.”

He gave a nod of his own in return. “Then I’m in. I ain’t gonna let her get hurt.”

“I know,” said Lew. He looked to Zecora. “I just want to say thank you, again, Zecora. And I’m sorry--we brought this trouble here, and you’re fighting right alongside us. It’s more than we could ever repay.”

Zecora gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “What it did to bring together my tribe? It brought us unity, more than I can describe.” Her grin slyly came. “As for a way for your men to repay? Perhaps I’ll someday figure a way.”

Lew nodded. “Well, plans only last until you meet the enemy but… Keep this big lug safe for me, would you?” He cocked a thumb at Mac. “His sister would kill me if anything happened. And she’s a formidable one...”

“I’ll keep him in mind. Fear not, Lew. I’ll save him from any bind.” She gave a push of her finger to his shoulder. “Now a favor I ask of you. Keep your queen safe too.”

“That is the job, after all,” he said, cracking a smile. “Reviews are next month, wouldn’t want to blow my raise!” Wishing the odd pair luck yet again, Lew took his leave and headed deeper into the ship, down to the lower hold.

The captain stepped into the hold and stopped, taking the entire situation in, thinking on what, if anything he should say. There before him were his men, his charges… He shook his head. This wasn’t some movie, he decided. There would be no need for speeches. Just the trust of a captain in his men, of soldiers in their leader, and of friends in each other.

Lew approached his men, a few dressed as pirates having come from abovedecks, but most in the midnight blue and silver trimmed finery of Luna’s Royal Guard contingent. The Crystal Chaser possessed a large, open storage room that they had emptied to fit nearly half of his men within. The rest were on the smaller ship they had commandeered a few days before, renamed the Moonbeam. At that moment, the Moonbeam was five minutes behind, playing backup. Soon, they would be playing catch up, radioed about the change of plans.

The soldiers in front of him were calm, most double checking weaponry, some snacking on a ration bar. A few noticed him and gave him a smile, or a wave, or even a grim look, as fit their various personalities. Each man or woman, an entire life. A past, present, and future.

And for some, that future would be all too short.

That was the one aspect of his career that Lew could never get used to. Expectant, planning around it, moving on, yes, those were easy enough. But he knew each face and each name. And he remembered each one fallen. Thankfully few, due to living in peaceful times. But with the end of those peaceful times, he dreaded the growth of that list.

He said nothing. There was nothing to be said. They already had their orders; the timetable had simply moved up. Now it was up to the sailors above and their ability to get to the Indomitable before they were discovered.

May Elondrie watch over us all, he prayed, heading back up top to ready the attack.