“That be a pretty story, boy-o! Good enough to earn you a drink!”
“I don’t need a drink, Kragor. I need you!” The man retorted. He looked at his empty beer stein before relenting, “Okay, I seem to be needing a drink as well.”
Kragor, a dwarf in his prime, guffawed and reached over the bar to slap Dexter on the shoulder. He swept away the ale stein and returned it a moment later with a fresh head of foam. “You mean to say you hauled a ghost ship — a trader at that — with one of them Federation Gnats? Might be you’ve spent too much time in the void.”
“Might be,” Dexter admitted, “but I did it! I hid it good too… in the Playground. Fouled my air up, but I made it back.”
Kragor raised an eyebrow and made a noncommittal noise in his throat that Dexter took to be encouragement.
“It’s been dead to the void for a long time,” Dexter said after a fresh drink. “And it’s been through a lot as well, but she’s still got some good bones to her.”
Kragor chuckled. “What about the helm, boy-o? Can she still be sailed through the void?”
Dexter nodded. “Aye, it can. Well the sails and the ship’ve got no power to ‘em now, been floating for a while. But I sat myself in it and felt the link.”
Kragor stroked his beard. “It have a name, this ghost ship?”
Dexter nodded again. “Hawk’s Talons.”
Kragor snorted. “What kind of name is that? Bah!”
Another patron down the bar signaled Kragor. The dwarf waved back at him to show he would be there in a moment. “I’ll admit you be a fine pilot, Dex, but you’ve had some damn fool schemes before about getting a ship o’ your own. Might be you should just stick with the Fed Navy and fly their scout ships.”
Dexter glared at him, feeling stung. He looked past the dwarf and saw the open window into the kitchen, where Kragor’s wife, Jodyne, worked to whip up her latest culinary delights. Kragor followed Dexter’s gaze, turning around to look at his wife. She was busy and did not notice their attention.
“Aye, lad, a time comes to us all for settling down,” Kragor said, as much as admitting he had recently been on the receiving end of one of Jodyne’s lectures. He waved at the patron who was signaling him again, begging another moment while the barkeep talked with his friend.
“Kragor, you’ve been with me on every one of those foolish schemes; don’t you be going soft on me now. You’re not that old!” Dexter pleaded.
Kragor harrumphed. “Not that old? Boy I’ve seen seventy six turns of the year. I’m three times your elder!”
Dexter shrugged. “You were hiding behind your mother’s skirts until you were older than me!”
Kragor chuckled, then caught himself. Dwarves did live longer than humans, but they grew up slower as well. Ironic, considering a fully grown dwarf was two thirds the height of a human. It was one of the many mysteries of the void that only the Gods knew the answer to.
“Just come with me tomorrow when I fly out on my patrol. You can stow away on my Gnat and check it out,” Dexter leaned closer.
The customer waved again, showing a face filled with irritation. Kragor turned and snapped, “Just a damned minute!”
The customer’s face paled at the surly dwarf’s words, but his lips also clamped shut. Kragor turned back to Dexter but saw a man emerging from a doorway behind him. “Uh oh,” Kragor reached for an empty mug and a towel.
“Dexter Silvercloud, whose copper are you drinking on today?” The owner of the inn came up behind the two. He clapped a hand on Dexter’s shoulder.
“Master Twinver,” Dexter acknowledged. He looked at Kragor and winked, forcing a soft groan from the dwarf. “With ale the quality of yours, I’d be hard pressed to spend my hard earned copper on it.”
The innkeeper smirked at Dexer’s words, but the smile faded as he realized the navy pilot’s words were instead mocking him. He flushed and he turned to Kragor.
“Out with you both! I’ve given you one chance too many, Kragor, and only for love of your wife’s cooking! Why she married a petty thief and a fool such as you is beyond me! Be gone with you and never step foot in here again!”
The larger man yanked on Dexter’s shirt, forcing him to stand or be pulled to the floor. Off balance, he was easy to redirect towards the door. Kragor still stood behind the bar, a little surprised by the sudden exchange. The owner of the tavern turned back to him and pointed towards the door, teeth clenched.
Kragor turned to look back over his shoulder, fearful of what he might see. Sure enough, Jodyne glared at him from the kitchen, a knife in her hand. Kragor gulped and tossed his rag on the bar, then hopped off the narrow ramp he’d built behind it to allow him to stand at a respectable height. He hurried around to join Dexter at the door then turned, still able to see through the open window to the kitchen.
“Out!” Master Twinver shouted.
Kragor opened his mouth, his eyes met Jodyne’s and hers narrowed. He grabbed Dexter and pulled him through the door before the large kitchen knife slammed into it.
Outside the Lost Sailor tavern Dexter turned to Kragor and grinned. “What say you, want to look at a boat?”
Kragor looked back at the door and sighed. “Damn you, Dex,” he said, though his heart was not really in the curse. “Have you any idea what I’m to do to get back in Jodyne’s graces?”
“How about coming back for her and telling her you’re the first mate of a private ship?”
Kragor stared at Dexter until time enough had passed to pour and drain a flagon of ale. Unable to resist, he grinned. “Sure enough I’m as daft as you, my boy.”
“You’ll come check it out with me?” Dexter asked again, daring to hope he’d won his friend over.
“Aye, I’ll do it,” Kragor’s grin faded as another facet of his new reality came to him. “But I need a place to sleep for a few days.”
A few times in the past Dexter and Kragor, bound for some shady business opportunity, had needed to enter the Federation shipyards. To aid in their endeavors Dexter had acquired an extra uniform and had it tailored to fit the dwarf. Kragor could hardly escape close inspection, but a few well placed bribes would turn the right heads at the right time.
Smuggling Kragor onto his scout ship was something altogether new. Dexter thought long and hard on it and realized there was no way he could get the dwarf to the docks and on to a ship. Kragor could pass for a short human at a distance. Up close it was impossible to pass him off; The Federation only employed humans.
Instead Kragor made his way to the underside of the asteroid known as Logan’s Haven, which was also the name of the original town that had sprung up. Once a pirate retreat, it had grown and then been taken over by the Federation. Now the town was called New Haven, and was one of the outer strongholds of the Federation. Away from the sun lay pirates, slavers, more asteroid belts similar to The Playground — and rumors of entire fleets of uncharted worlds, unrecognized races, and worse. Sunward and beyond, on the other side of Federation space, lay the vast reaches of the void controlled by the Elven Empire.
Even with so many far reaching hands, one could travel for weeks in any direction and see neither ship nor rock, let alone planet. The planets of the system were left on their own. Only dirthuggers lived on them and seldom was any profitable trade to be done with them. Each planet was fixed in place, rotating about its own axis to provide a day and night for the inhabitants — this made charting courses and establishing empires easy to do, but the great distances made communication and logistics a nightmare.
Dexter picked him up there, concentrating hard to keep his small ship from crashing into the forested underside of Logan’s Haven while Kragor struggled to climb up the rope that had been tossed over for him. Finally, sweating from the effort, the dwarf was on the deck and hauling in the rope.
“Boy-o, you best be right about this wreck,” Kragor warned between heavy breaths. “There’s naught else in the void that’ll make this worth the trouble you cause me!”
“That’s Captain Boy-o to you.” Dexter grinned. Already they were speeding away from New Haven.
Kragor harrumphed again. “Not yet it ain’t, I need to be seeing this thing and figuring if it can be fixed.”
“If it can be fixed or if you can fix it?” Dexter needled.
“Bah!” Kragor spat out. “If it can be fixed, I’m the dwarf to be doing it!”
Dexter chuckled and aimed the small craft towards the stars before bringing it up to cruising speed. Kragor looked around on the small deck and sat on a chest with emergency supplies for the lone pilot.
Well over an hour later Kragor’s mounting nerves caused him to stroke his beard. Dexter was sliding them through the smaller rocks on the edge of The Playground, easily keeping the gnat safe. Once through the outer rocks they slipped amongst floating rocks the size of wagons and houses. The Playground had served many times as a pirate base, but the difficulty in navigating it kept the many ships out.
Another quarter hour of nervous sweating on Kragor’s part let Dexter pilot the ship to a large asteroid that looked almost round. The dwarf kept trying to spot anything out of the ordinary, but the distractions of rocks that seemed destined to smash into them proved too much to ignore. Dexter skirted them all with ease and piloted them to he far side of the asteroid. Dexter surprised Kragor, following the floating rock’s curvature and then ducking into a shadowed region underneath of it. He rolled the boat and gently landed the Gnat in the dark depression.
“What do you think?” Dexter asked, stepping out of the partially enclosed helm.
“It’s dark,” Kragor pointed out. He looked around at the small crater in the asteroid, seeing little more than the shadows of a ship.
“I thought dwarves could see in the dark?” Dexter asked, teasing him.
“We can! But it’s not like seeing with some light!” Kragor snapped back at him.
“Then get off my supply chest so I can get a lightstone.”
“Oh!” Kragor hopped up and stepped to the side, letting Dexter unlock the chest and rifle through the contents.
“Air’s a bit stale on this rock,” Kragor noted.
“That’s from the ship. It had a bubble of dead air around about it when I brought her in, remember?” Dexter said.
The asteroid, as in all things found floating in the void, had a pocket of air surrounding it. Sages said this varied by the size of the object, with larger things having greater air pockets. Each object had gravity as well, and when two or more objects were within proximity of one another, the largest object overruled the others. The rock they were on was large enough to have an air bubble about it that, if fresh, would last the two men for weeks.
“How would I remember, you was there, not me!”
“But I told you,” Dexter pulled out a short wooden stick with a brightly glowing brass ball fixed to the end of it. “It fouled the air on my Gnat too, but standard Fed supplies includes a fresh air mask that’s good for a few hours.”
Kragor grunted, anxious to take a closer look at the ship now that Dexter had pulled the lightstone out of the chest. His first impression, however, did not look promising.
“You dragged me out here for this wreck?” Kragor asked, squinting to get a better look at it.
Dexter sighed. “I thought the same when I first laid my eyes on her,” he said. “But she’s built solid and has some strength left in her.”
Kragor scowled but realized he was interested in spite of himself. “Alright, run out the ramp, let’s get over there.”
Dexter untied a rope ladder and dropped it over the side of the boat. He looked to Kragor, who rolled his eyes at the thought of a rope ladder, and climbed down it ahead of the dwarf. Kragor followed, muttering obscenities under his breath the whole way.
“She’s beat up bad but…” Dexter felt the need to defend the battered vessel as they walked over the rocky ground of the asteroid
“Shut yer mouth, Boy-o, I’m thinking here,” Kragor snapped. Dexter fought back the chuckle but he could not hide the smile. He’d hooked the dwarf and he knew it.
The ship was built to resemble a hawk. Segmented windows from the bridge looked out, appearing to be the eyes of the bird. Sails that resembled wings graced both sides and the main deck, allowing it to catch the solar wind and sail through the void. Another sail at the aft served as a rudder, aiding the man at the helm with maneuvering. The hull was cracked and broken in many places; holes dotted its landscape. The sails had long since rotted away as well. The newest thing on it was the tow rope Dexter left tied to the forecastle.
Finally, at the side of the broken and battered hull Kragor blew out a deep breath. “She’s older than me, but she’s held up. Still, that’s no kindness. A little bit of an odd shape for a trader, but I can see some of the modifications done to her.”
“The landing supports?” Dexter asked.
“Aye, laddy, them’s different. She’s been refitted for land or water, instead of just water,” Kragor acknowledged. “And unless I miss me guess, there’s more room in her innards too.”
“Let’s find out!” Dexter’s excitement was building beyond his wildest dreams.
Kragor nodded and let Dexter lead him through a hole in the hull of ship to one of the two cargo holds. Their surprise was that the hold had been converted to a once sumptuous stateroom. Kragor reached up to wrap his knuckles against the wood at various points, testing it for soundness. He nodded his head in approval each time as they moved through the ship.
“This was no merchant ship,” Kragor said after they had made their way up the mostly intact stairs to the main deck. “The helm’s on the bridge, instead of the rear like a normal trader would have it. And in the rear it’s sectioned into crew quarters. The holds were turned into a bedroom on the port and a mess on the starboard. Up front you got the bridge where it should be, and the head and the captain’s room. Two other rooms up there though, both made into bedrooms.”
“What do you think?”
“I ain’t done thinking yet!” Kragor snapped. He looked around the main deck and nodded. “It’s a good design down below, but it’s worth beggar’s wages if you want to carry any cargo. Up here it looks pretty norm… is that a catapult?”
Dexter followed Kragor over the deck to the bow of the ship where an ancient catapult was fixed to the forecastle. He whistled and turned towards the stern. “Let’s head aft, boy-o, and see what she’s packing astern!”
Dexter chuckled and followed after his excited friend. On the stern castle a ballista lay waiting to be repaired and used. Kragor shook his head and chuckled. “I was right, she is old. That or she was a pirate ship. No weapons allowed on a common ship for as long as I can remember.”
Dexter nodded. He thought as much, but he wanted to hear Kragor say it before voicing his own opinion. “We’ll have to dump them then.”
“Bah, too right,” Kragor admitted. “But we can fix ‘em up and sell em instead o’ dumping ‘em!”
Dexter chuckled, his friend was getting excited. Kragor turned back to him and nodded. “Captain, you got yourself a first mate!”
Dexter laughed and clapped him on the back. Right then and there, anything was possible.
“How’s the helm?” Kragor asked him after a moment of shared silent appreciation. For years the two of them had schemed with ways to come up with enough money to buy a ship. They had even worked out a few plans to steal one, but neither was ready to be branded outlaws.
Dexter nodded. “It’s in good enough shape, though the ship’s got no power. We’ll have to charge it with a battery.”
“How fast ya think she’ll go?” Kragor asked. “Traders ain’t known for being quick, just for carrying cargo cheap as can be.”
“Aye, I’m thinking she’ll be only a little slower than the Gnat at in a gravity well,” Dexter mused. “Rigged out a little different than normal, with some good sails she should do fine. She’ll have sails big enough for a good clip between systems too.”
“It’s big for a trader, I’m guessing 5 or 10 tons more than normal,” Kragor estimated. “I ‘spect she’ll handle alright, once we get her fixed up.”
“Won’t know that till we charge her up.”
“Aye,” Kragor agreed. “Don’t suppose you’ve taken up wizarding on your spare time?”
Dexter chuckled. “Not anymore than you’ve become a man of the cloth.”
Kragor stroked his beard again. “Well, first things first, we need some wood and I need my tools! Then I can start making this wreck ready to fly. It’s going to take a fair amount of work.”
In spite of years of fantasizing of owning a ship, Dexter had only a little money saved up. A Federation Pilot made little in the way of wages. Often barely enough to pay for the necessary distractions to keep from going mad. The cost of acquiring wood to rebuild the ship proved an easier task than it was for Kragor to reclaim his tools.
He had tried reason with Jodyne, telling her that he had a big job that promised some steady money, but he had to keep quiet about it. She rightly assumed he was up to no good and that Dexter was involved. Kragor made it out with his tools while she used her trained arm to hurl all manner of objects at him. When he returned to Dexter’s room at a Federation housing building, he had to admit that he needed a place to sleep longer than he’d thought.
Their next problem came in transporting the goods. Dexter could only afford a small amount of supplies at a time, but even then the Gnat had little room for cargo. Dexter began to fear he’d be as old as Kragor before the work was done.
At least two days in a week saw them heading out to the Playground. Some nights Kragor stayed with the ship working on it all night and munching on dried meats until Dexter made his return run.
One day while traversing the Playground to fetch his friend Dexter stumbled into an ambush. Contrary to stories told around hearths with mulled ale, most ship to ship encounters in the void do not involve catapult shot and ballista bolts flying. Even the rare bombards so often talked about in story are seldom seen, let alone fired. Only the Federation and the Elven Armada ships are prone to fire at the slightest provocation. Repairs and even ammunition are too expensive for the private ship owner to run the risk.
Three small ships emerged from the background of floating rocks to close with him. Dexter quickly identified an Ant, a Dart, and the third was little more than a skiff with a sail upon it. Dexter sped up his Gnat, risking the perils of the asteroid field and trying to lose the pursuing ships. Being a Federation scout ship, Dexter was correct in assuming that his was faster than the pirates. They were very familiar with the asteroid field; however, so he was unable to lose them.
The largest one, the Ant, slammed into a pony sized rock, sending one man flying into the void and another to the deck bleeding. Broken planks of wood drifted free, bobbing in the small vessel’s gravity plane. Seeing that gave Dexter an idea.
He started choosing more dangerous areas to push through, skimming within feet of some of the larger rocks. He was unable to stretch out to maximum speed for fear of a collision, and that kept the pirates chasing him. One by one smaller rocks smashed into them all, damaging their ships and sometimes wounding their crews. Dexter’s own Gnat did not escape unharmed; several smaller rocks left cracks, scratches, and dents in the decking and hull.
Without a full sail enchanted to catch the solar wind, the strenuous chase was draining the power from the Federation Gnat at an alarming rate. The first ballista bolt came shooting close to him then and Dexter knew it was only a matter of time; he had to do something desperate. The Gnat had a light ballista mounted on its forward deck, but in order to use it he would have to leave the helm, and that meant leaving the ship drifting in an asteroid field without any guidance.
The Dart broke off, giving up the chase. Dexter grinned, feeling renewed hope, and veered towards where he knew Kragor and the Hawk’s Talon lay waiting. Now he had a plan.
Dexter flew above where the derelict was sheltered, weaving in and out of the smaller asteroids and dodging the occasional ballista bolts that were sent his way. One grazed the starboard hull, forcing his hand early. He swooped low over the shadowed depression in the asteroid.
His luck held true when a shot from the medium catapult streaked out of the shadows beneath him and hit the Ant amidships. It tore a great hole in it and broke the back of the small boat, sending two of its crew flying and knocking the third one unconscious on the helm. The Ant was barely more than broken planks floating through space.
Dexter dropped the Gnat into the depression, coming to rest near the Hawk’s Talon. The skiff landed further away, the five members of its crew leaping to the asteroid and charging towards him almost before he could get to the light ballista at the front of it. He took aim and fired, wasting no time with demanding a surrender. Dexter knew better than to try. Besides, if they did, what would he do with them?
The five pirates dodged the bolt, which bounced off the rocky ground and slammed into the skiff, imbedding itself in the wooden side of the makeshift boat. The next bolt, a larger one fired from the Hawk’s Talon, caught them off guard and skewered the first pirate through the chest.
Dexter leapt off of his Gnat, dropping the 12 feet to the ground and absorbing the landing with a flex of his knees. He threw a dagger at an approaching pirate, sticking him in the thigh, and drew his long sword to defend himself.
The pirate with the knife sticking out of his leg cursed and drew his pistol. Dexter reached for the pistol at his own side, then had to duck and parry an attack from the closest pirate charging him.
The clash of steel was drowned out by the thunder from the pirate’s flintlock pistol. Dexter staggered backwards, looking at his shaken sword arm. Rather than a gaping wound on it he saw only the untouched leather of his uniform. Understanding dawned on him when he saw that the blade of his sword was shortened by over a foot by the impact of the bullet.
“Bet you’ve never seen someone block a bullet with a sword before,” Dexter said to the pirates facing him. He circled just enough to keep his adversaries between him and the pirate that was furiously reloading his pistol.
One of the pirates looked to his companions nervously. Another bandit, the first one to attack, raised his weapon to strike and said, “I bet you ain’t never seen that either!”
He slashed out, forcing Dexter to parry his swing. Dexter’s shorter blade nearly missed the parry, forcing him off balance as he tried to counter. The other two advanced.
“I’m a Federation Navy Marine! Harm me and you’ll have the Feds on your tail!” Dexter bluffed again, trying to buy himself some time.
“You’re a Fed running rogue, and you’ve got no weapon! They’ll never know we bled you dry!”
Dexter looked at his sword, drawing their attention to it. “No weapon, good point,” he said. With their attention on his broken sword, his other hand slid towards his pistol.
In a blur of motion he drew his flintlock and fired at the apparent leader of the pirates. The Pirate grunted and stumbled backwards, blood blossoming from his chest where the bullet hit him. The pirate’s sword preceded his body, falling and bouncing towards Dexter. The other pirates cringed, surprised by the blast.
Dexter slid his toes under the dropped weapon and flipped it up in the air, catching it with his sword arm. “There, now I have a weapon.”
The other two pirates looked at their fallen comrade, then at each other and back to Dexter.
“Who’s next?” Dexter goaded them. “Come on, you know I’m running rogue, so I can’t have any witnesses. And you know what I’m doing here, so I can’t be letting you leave.”
The wounded pirate limped into position to take a shot at him. Dexter lunged forward, catching the closest pirate’s blade on the barrel of his pistol while the other pirate parried his slash.
Amidst the rumble of exertion and clash of steel, the release of the ballista on the abandoned ship made them all pause. It was followed by a grunt of shock.
The gullible pirate that had fallen for Dexter’s initial bluff glanced back at his pistol-wielding companion and saw him on the ground. The fallen man clawed weakly at the spear-sized ballista bolt that had impaled his stomach and nearly split him in two.
Dexter’s pistol smashed into the pirate’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the other one. He tripped and fell backwards, dropping his sword as he did so. With the other pirate off balance from the collision, Dexter ran him through with his new sword, then parried a final last ditch attack from the man before he fell to the ground and clutched his wounds. The grounded pirate scrambled to his feet and turned to flee.
Dexter hurried over to the bandit he had shot and pulled the pistol the man had at his side. He took aim and fired, hitting the running pirate in the back. He came to an abrupt stop, then tried to reach behind his back as though he could pull the bullet out. He turned in a staggering fashion to look back at Dexter. His mouth opened but no sound came out of it before he crumpled to the ground.
“Took you long enough!” Kragor called out from the ship.
Dexter waved at him and gathered the pistols from the other dead pirates, reloading them as quickly as he could. “There’s another ship out there, a Dart, and I’ve got to make sure it doesn’t get away!”
“Why?”
“It knows we’re in here and that we’re up to something,” Dexter pointed out. “Next time they’ll come bring meaner friends.”
“Oh…need any help?” Kragor asked.
Dexter looked around at the fallen bodies. His blood was still racing and he felt little more than exhilaration at his success. “I just killed three of them; I think I can handle one little ship. Clean up this mess and see if there’s anything we can use.”
Dexter headed towards the abandoned pirate skiff hearing Kragor muttering loudly, no doubt cursing his parentage. He examined it, noting it was damaged badly, but not enough to ground it.
The skiff lifted off and Dexter took care to mark where the ruined Ant had floated to, luckily, it had caught in the gravity of the asteroid. He retraced his path, hoping to see the Dart stranded somewhere. Disappointment flooded his skin along with a tinge of fear. If he couldn’t find them, he’d bet a month’s salary they’d return with reinforcements and steal his dreams.
Dexter returned to the asteroid, nearly out of power. With no magic to power the helm the ship would be as maneuverable as the rock the Hawk’s Talons rested upon. As it was, he was not sure he could land the skiff safely. Dexter cursed when he saw the Dart on the ground near the Hawk’s Talon. One of the pirates remained aboard the Dart, manning the light ballista. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Dexter took careful aim of the skiff and waited until there could be no mistake.
He leapt free of the skiff, trying his best to hit the ground rolling. The impact knocked the wind out of him and blackness tugged at his vision. When Dexter’s head cleared he stared at the great pile of scrap lumber. The pirate and the ballista he manned were nowhere to be found.
“There’d better be a charge in your Gnat, Fed pig, because after I kill you I need a ride off this rock!”
Dexter groaned and rolled over. A pirate stood a few feet from him, pistol pointed at him. “Hurry up and do it, it’ll hurt less.”
“Lose the weapons,” the pirate said, gesturing at his weapon belt around his hip.
Dexter glanced down, amazed his sword was still on him. He reached down and loosened his belt slowly, remembering at the last to untie the holster from his thigh. He tugged it free and tossed it off to the side cursing as he did so; he felt as though he was covered with bruises and scratches. He pulled a dagger from his boot and added it to the pile.
“Now get up, your buddy’s got himself locked in that wreck and you’re going to help us get him out. Maybe, if you play nice, we’ll leave you two stranded here,” the pirate said.
Groaning for effect, Dexter rose up to face the pirate. Once on his feet, he turned his head to look at the scattered remains of the two small boats. Broken wood and metal fittings were scattered throughout the shadowy depression. He saw the pirate take a step closer to him and reach out to grab him.
Dexter whistled. “That’s got to hurt.”
“What?” The pirate asked, his extended arm hesitating.
Dexter’s twisted his body and grabbed the only other pistol that had remained on him when he had crashed. It was tucked into his pants in the small of his back. He raised his gun and fired it at the off-balance pirate.
The pirate jerked, firing his own flintlock high and just over Dexter’s head. Not thinking about the close call, Dexter crashed into him and bore him to the ground. He clubbed him repeatedly with the spent pistol until the pirate’s face resembled a rotten tomato.
Dexter rose, breathing heavily and fighting the urge to give in to his aches and collapse. After gathering his weapons he made his way to the hole in the hull, reloading his pistols as he went.
“I’ll keep this rat cornered, go check on Turval!”
Dexter ducked to the side of the open doorway leading from the cargo hold into the companionway of the ship. He waited several seconds, listening and trying to keep his breathing calmed. In short order he heard the footsteps of the pirate walking down the hall. The man walked into the room, catching a glimpse of Dexter out of the corner of his eye.
The pirate yelped and swung around, bringing his pistol to bear. Dexter swung his pistol up and knocked the pirates aside. The impact twisted the flintlock in the pirates grip and made him pull the trigger, sending out a deafening blast. Dexter’s reclaimed sword plunged into the pirate’s belly and up into his chest. He yanked on it once, forcing it in deeper, then pulled it out and let the dying pirate fall.
The ringing in his ears made his eyes water and his head swim. He shook his head, bracing himself against the wall of the ship with his sword arm, and then checked his pistol to make sure the hammer was back and ready to fire. He peered through the door and saw a lone pirate remaining, glancing back and forth nervously between the closed door to the bridge and the doorway that his companion had gone through. When he saw Dexter he spat out language that proved he was a sailor first and a pirate second.
“I’ve got your runt, you come up here and I’ll kill him!”
Dexter aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through his cheek and out the back of his head. The pirate jerked and flopped to the ground, flailing in death spasms a handful of times before he lay still.
Dexter glanced about, wondering if any more pirates were in hiding. His back locked in pain as he attempted to take a step into the companionway. He gasped loudly for breath, the inhalation causing agony to spread from his ribs. The adrenaline fled, leaving him wheezing and dizzy. He tried again to move, reaching for the wall to steady himself. He missed, overbalancing in the process and crashing into the hallway with a fresh explosion of misery.
Dexter looked up at Kragor standing in the now open door to the bridge. The dwarf regarded the dead pirate at his feet with a scowl. “I’m not a runt!” Kragor said, kicking the corpse. “I’m tall for a dwarf…and stout!”
Kragor kicked him again then turned to Dexter.
A laugh emerged from Dexter’s lips, causing him no small amount of misery. He coughed, wracking up some blood that ran down his chin and drooled to the floor.
“Gods, boy-o, what’ve ya done to yourself?”
“Repelling borders,” Dexter wheezed, glad to know he could hear his friend, even if he did sound miles away.
Kragor chuckled. “I’d of helped, had ya told me you was out here,” he said when he saw the other dead pirate in the hold. “This the last of them, then?”
“Aye,” Dexter said, reaching out to grab the doorjamb and slowly using it to help pull himself up to his feet.
“How bad are ya?” Kragor asked him, looking at him nervously.
“Half deaf and half dead,” Dexter muttered. He saw the look of genuine concern on Kragor’s face and forced a bloody smile. “Broken ribs, bruises, some scrapes…think I damn near bit my tongue off at some point. Oh! I crashed that skiff into the Dart too.”
Kragor’s mouth opened and he peered past Dexter and out the hole in the hull. “Gods, boy, so you did! Didn’t no one tell ya not to ram a docked ship before?”
“Ramming was a two day lesson, I skipped the second day,” Dexter quipped. “Besides, it turned out the guy waiting outside wasn’t so tough without his ship.”
Kragor shook his head and then brightened visibly. “This is the best bit of supplies you’ve brought me yet!”
Confused, Dexter turned and looked out at the scattered wreckage. He chuckled. “So I did.”
“You’re not going to be worth a damn for work, you should head back now and make up a good story,” Kragor said.
“How about I was attacked by pirates?”
“Not bad, just make sure they wasn’t here.”
Dexter nodded and turned to leave. He stopped and turned back. “Awful wealthy for a group of pirates.”
“What?” Kragor asked, looking down at the nearest corpse and seeing no signs of finery.
“They all had pistols and fire powder, and decent weapons.”
Kragor looked again and noticed that Dexter spoke the truth. He looked up at his friend and stroked his beard. “You’re thinking something, aren’t ya?”
Dexter nodded. “Aye.”
“What?”
“Not sure yet,” Dexter admitted. “Gather up their stuff and stash it on the ship, then we’ll load their bodies onto the Gnat and I’ll dump them somewhere.”
“Let’s go get that ant and see if it’s fit for flying,” Kragor suggested instead.
Dexter looked up, remembering the ant then. “You hit it pretty good, Kragor, I’m for thinking it’s all done in.”
Kragor grinned, proud of his shot. “Aye, and if it is it’s more raw material. But if it’s not, then I can use it!”
Dexter shrugged and limped out of the ship toward the Gnat. He looked up at it and cursed.
“What?” Kragor asked beside him.
“I jumped out of it… didn’t lower the rope ladder.”
“Hellfire!” Kragor spat, looking about. He spat on the ground then turned and stormed off, heading back into the Hawk’s Talon for a long minute before he came back out.
“Here, try this,” Kragor offered, handing Dexter a coiled length of rope with a loop on the end of it.
Dexter nodded and tossed the looped end up. It flew half the distance he needed before falling heavily at his feet. Kragor harrumphed and grabbed the rope from him, tossing it strongly and catching it on his first try. He tested it with his weight before awkwardly attempting to climb it. Strong though he was, the dwarf’s hands were no match for the rope. He cursed loudly as he slid to the ground and fell heavily upon his butt.
Dexter shook his head and took the rope from him, then fought the urge to gasp with every attempt he made to pull himself higher. He paused twice to gather his breath and fight down the urge to vomit from the pain. Finally he made it, rolling onto his back and seeing spots in his vision. His tortured ribs rose and fell with each breath, reminding him forcefully of the need to control his breathing.
“Come on!” Dexter called down to Kragor several moments later. The dwarf grinned and shook his head, pointing instead at the hooks for the rope ladder. Dexter muttered something about the dwarf’s preference in bed partners and kicked the coiled ladder down to him.
Kragor was up on the scout ship a moment later, pulling up the ladder and rolling it up as he did so. Dexter shook his head and moved to sit in the helm, sighing happily when he did so. The chair was comfortable; it was made for a helmsman to sit in for hours at a time. Beyond that, when a helmsmen merged his consciousness with the ship he partially separated from his body and became aware of the ship in general. He could feel the damage done to it by the asteroids and the ballista, but it still felt a good deal more whole than he did.
“We’re good, let’s go,” Kragor told him once he coiled up the rope Dexter had used to climb onto the ship.
Dexter piloted the boat up off the asteroid and moved carefully to where he last saw the Ant. Kragor scanned the asteroid field, searching for wreckage. Dexter relived the chase in his head, remembering which direction it floated. He turned the Gnat starboard and set off. After a few minutes of cautious searching Kragor cried out. It was resting against another rock, nearly the size of a wagon, and though it looked to be poor shape it still held together.
“Nice shot,” Dexter said.
“Aye,” Kragor admitted, not picking up on his friend’s dark humor.
“Wasn’t thinking about salvage when you let ‘er fly?”
The dwarf turned to scowl at Dexter. “You didn’t give me much for warning, now did ya?”
“I’m just thinking that a proper first mate would think of these things, that’s all.”
“You’re lucky Jodyne’s taken such a shining to you boy,” Kragor spouted.
“She does show a fondness for throwing the sharper knives at you, doesn’t she?”
Kragor scowled again then turned to stare at the ant. Dexter closed with it slowly, taking no chances with either ship. Their banter ceased as the boats drew alongside one another.
“You be a better pilot than me, you fly that heap back and I’ll take this one,” Kragor offered once Dexter had gently pulled up beside the battered ship. Dexter looked it over and nodded, knowing the dwarf was right. Anything but the most gentle of landings would ruin it for good.
They exchanged positions and Dexter stepped onto the deck of the ant. He went to the helm and pulled the unconscious human out of it. Blood ran from one nostril, and without checking Dexter made the assumption that the man was dead. He dragged him to the side of the ship and pushed him off, letting him bob on the gravity plane of the merged ships in their air bubble and slowly be pushed out to the void as he flew the ship.
Dexter set the ant down first, doing his best to be gentle with the unfamiliar design. He judged himself successful by the faint protest of groaning timbers when he settled the full weight on the rocky ground of the asteroid.
Kragor landed heavily a few moments later, cracking on of the landing struts on the Gnat and making Dexter cringe. The dwarf kicked the ladder over the edge and hurried down it, grinning like a fool.
“How many ships have you piloted?” Dexter asked him.
“Three,” Kragor said, still grinning. “Now.”
Dexter closed his eyes and sighed. Kragor spoke up again, “Of course the other two were thirty years or more back.”
Dexter felt a fresh pain creeping up his back. He turned away and headed towards the gnat. “Strip the bodies and get rid of them,” Dexter said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I can head back myself, does the ant have enough power?” Kragor asked.
“It’s about half full, might be enough to get you back if you’re careful. Be careful though, someone might recognize it.”
Kragor turned to look at it and stroked his beard. “Aye, good point… I’ll have to fix that.”
“Good job today, Captain!” Kragor called out as Dexter climbed up the ladder to the gnat.
At the top Dexter turned and grinned, his injuries partially forgotten at the warm glow being called a captain caused. “Thanks,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm. He grinned and said, “Now get them off my ship!”
Kragor laughed and waved at him then turned to go and tend to the bodies. Dexter watched him for a moment then turned and reclaimed his helm. A moment later he was flying again and making his way carefully out of the asteroid field to return to New Haven. Along the way he spent the majority of his time thinking up a good story to explain both his injuries and those of his ship.
Dexter’s story had sounded good to him. Good enough, he judged to insure his only problems would be in returning to pick up Kragor. His superiors proved more suspicious, experienced, and wise to the fanciful dreams of a young pilot, however.
Under threat of torture he confessed that he had been venturing out beyond the Federation space and accepting bribes from pirates. He insisted the information he shared was either false or inconsequential, though that earned him no favor with the Federation officers. The damage to his gnat and to himself had occurred when his contacts grew tired of him not giving them proper results. He’d had to fight them off and barely escaped with his life.
With Dexter’s story finally accepted, he was sentenced to two weeks in jail. He was also stripped of all Federation rank and privilege. He accepted the punishment stoically, not giving any hint to the relief and elation coursing through his veins. He had escaped death, dismemberment, torture, and even managed to get out of the Federation before his three year contract was up.
Dexter was relinquished to a community cell with several others, most of them short term. The smell was anything but pleasant, what with unwashed bodies and a poorly maintained hole in the corner of the cell for waste. The food often reminded Dexter of what lay in the shallow waste-hole, offering little in the way of nourishment, taste, or a desire to eat it. In spite of the conditions Dexter had a light heart and endured it well.
Fights broke out daily. Sometimes a result of overcrowding and tempers but more often they were centered around a blond elven woman. It was unusual to find a lone elf in Federation space, especially a woman. Dexter found it less unusual to see that her attitude was big enough to stretch all the way back to the Elven Empire. Dexter did his best to stay out of the conflicts; he avoided the elf because elves were trouble.
Why else would the elves have their own empire and be at odds more often than not with the Federation? He could only assume she was a spy, tossed in jail either to await a public hanging or simply to rot away. By the time twelve days had passed he had seen enough of the brutal beatings and her valiant attempts at fending off the beasts. Each fight ended with the attacker on the floor, beaten. The elf stood above, her knuckles cracked and bleeding but the glare in her eyes keeping those still conscious from daring to rise.
The twelfth day brought a change to the bizarre ritual. Three thugs were thrown into the cell and everyone knew enough to keep their distance. Left to their own devices, they noticed the elf and whispered among one another with malicious glances in her direction. That night they made their move, attacking her. She broke the nose of one and snapped the wrist of another before they finally succeeded where others had failed. One held her while another beat her to the point of unconscious. The third one, the one with the broken nose, ripped her shirt and displayed her for his amusement, then yanked down her pants and untied his own breeches.
Angry at the unfair treatment of the woman, Dexter intervened. His fist smashed into the back of the broken-nosed man’s neck. The ruffian dropped like a bag of wheat to the stone floor and before he could recover, Dexter drove his foot into the man’s ribs. Dexter winced at the ironic pain in his own unhealed ribs from the force of the assault.
He turned to the other two and stared at them, breathing heavily. “Lots of men tried to have their fun with her, and she’s beat every one of them down. You want her, you can have her, but you go one on one to see what she thinks of you first.”
Fresh life flared into the elf. She struggled anew and smashed her head back into the face of the man holding her, breaking his nose as well. She twisted away from him and punched the other man in the throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. He stumbled backwards against the wall grasping his throat and forcing harsh breaths through his constricted airway. She turned to the man behind her and drew back her fist. Dexter caught it before she threw the punch. “I think he’s found something better to interest him.”
The man nodded, blood gushing over his chin and shirt. He pinched his nose to stem the bleeding and stumbled away. A few of the other prisoners he tripped over cursed at him.
The elven warrior woman stared at him for a long moment and then yanked her hand free of his. She impressed him with her strength and her beauty, even if it was a bit bruised and bloodied at the moment. Dexter turned away from her respectfully when she reached to pull her pants back up and retie them.
Fingers pinched painfully into the back of his neck and he inhaled sharply. The surprise turned quickly to pain as the pressure increased and it took every bit of willpower he had to keep his knees from buckling
“Never turn your back on me,” she said, her common only slightly accented.
“Sorry,” Dexter hissed, holding up his hands.
She let go after a final squeeze and he turned to face her, rubbing the sore spots on his neck. “Just trying to be a gentleman,” he said, scanning her now covered form.
She tied the tattered ends of her shit in a knot under her breast bone, the front open to the plunge, revealing a pleasant curve of cleavage despite her slight chest. “You’re not, so don’t.”
Dexter raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. He nodded. “Fair enough. Dexter Silvercloud’s the name.”
She looked at his offered hand a long moment then at last shook it. Again Dexter was impressed with her grip. Her hands were callused too, the hands of a warrior.
“How long you here?” he asked her, moving back towards a wall. The gasping thug regained his breath enough to scamper away from them. The other thug, remained unconscious on the floor.
“I’m to be tried for espionage,” she said, as if that explained it all.
“Espionage?” Dexter asked, surprised that his fanciful imaginings might have been true.
“It means spying.”
“I know that!” Dexter snapped, then softened his tone. “I was just surprised is all. What did you do to deserve that?”
“Wrong place, wrong time,” she said.
Dexter laughed. “That I can believe.”
“Look, thanks for the help, I owe you one. That don’t mean I’m going to be laying with you though.”
Dexter chuckled and grinned. “I like you.”
“So did he,” she said, nodding towards the unconscious ruffian.
“Not like that!” Dexter said, rolling his eyes. “I meant I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
“What do you mean? I’m stuck in here until they decide to stage a mock trial and then execute me.”
“What’s your name?” Dexter asked her, speaking a little more quietly.
She eyed him warily for a moment then relented. “Jenna.”
“Just Jenna?”
“For now, yes, just Jenna.”
Dexter nodded. “Alright, Just Jenna, how would you like a job?”
“A job?” Jenna quipped, laughing.
Dexter liked the sound of her laughter, even when it was scornful and directed at him. It was musical. “Aye, a job. I can get you out of here and I’m offering you a job.”
She laughed again. “You can’t even get yourself out of here, what makes you think you can get me out.”
“I used to work for the Federation,” Dexter began.
“Used to? How’s that help?”
“’Used to’ means up until they let me go in two days I’m on their payroll,” Dexter explained. “There was some miscommunication that ended me up in here.”
“Miscommunication?” Jenna asked, pressing for more but talking as softly as he to minimize the eavesdropping.
Dexter shrugged. “Yeah, had they really known what I was doing I’d probably be dead or missing some body parts.”
Jenna looked at him for a long minute then laughed again, this time not at his expense. “Okay, go on.”
“You’re a political prisoner, that means they’ll leave you in here for ages until they need you to act as a lesson, then they’ll parade you around, make up some charges, and publicly execute you.”
Jenna shrugged. “That’s what I said, you’re not impressing me.”
“Know how the execute people here? Disemboweling is a favorite, stretching on the rack is another, or the crowd favorite, drawing and quartering,” Dexter said, trying to drive home his point.
The elven woman just shrugged again, showing no real concern about the means of her potential demise. “So how can you get me out?”
“For someone like you they’ll release you into the custody of a citizen with a clean record as long as he pays bail.”
“You don’t have a clean record, remember?”
He chuckled. “No, not anymore… but my first mate does.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. “Your first mate? That make you a…”
Dexter nodded, looking around meaningfully. She understood, he didn’t want anyone else knowing. “Aye, I’ve got a ship nearby. Once I’m out of here I’ll come back and secure your release, if you’ll sail with me.”
“I’m not a whore to be bought and paid for,” Jenna said, her voice quiet but possessing a dangerous tone.
Dexter held up his hands. “No worry, Just Jenna, I’m not after that. I need some deckhands and an Armsmaster. If you’re half as good with a blade as you are with your fists, you fit the bill.”
Jenna smirked, an expression that looked mysterious and comical at the same time on her delicate cheek. “I’m better,” she stated. “Sounds like you don’t have a full crew yet.”
Dexter waved her concern away. “Just picking up a few more to round us out a little better is all.”
“I’ll think on it,” she said, squatting down and resting her back against the wall.
Dexter slid down as well, then looked around at the shadowy forms of the other prisoners in the murky half light. “Don’t think too long, I’ll be gone soon enough and so will the offer.”
The next day and a half proved almost more than Dexter could bear. Nearly finished with his jail term, he longed to be out and working on getting the Hawk’s Talon ready to fly again. Not only that, but the elf continued to stick close to him, talking occasionally though sharing nothing more of herself. He had never been happier to see his friend than when two guards opened up the cell door and Kragor stood waiting with them. Dexter grinned and turned to Jenna. She regarded the dwarf, muttering something in elvish that Dexter knew was derogatory. She returned her gaze to Dexter and nodded. Another man stood and cleared his throat, stepping closer to Dexter. Slim and a few inches shorter than Dexter, the man had hair closely shorn to his head beneath the cowl of a hood that kept his face shadowed.
He hissed in a surprisingly soft voice, “I’ve heard what you’ve spoken of and I would offer my services as well.”
Dexter’s bounced between Jenna and the other prisoner. “Who are you and what are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I can help you… I’m an experienced helmsman and if you don’t take me, I’ll tell the Feds what you were really up to that got you tossed in here.”
Dexter’s eyes widened and his fists clenched at his sides. Jenna glared at the man, staring daggers into him, but under the watchful eyes of the guard they said and did nothing.
“Dexter Silvercloud, get your arse out here or you can rot in there till the rats eat the flesh from your bones!” One of the guards called into the cell.
Dexter stared at the man a moment longer, then nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He turned and walked to the guards, who waited until he was out of the cell before shutting the door on those behind him.
“I’d like to secure the release of those two prisoners,” Dexter said, pointing at Jenna and the mysterious prisoner.
“You hit your head in there? You’ve got a record!” The guard that had spoken before said.
Dexter sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked at Kragor. The dwarf nodded and spoke, “I’d like to secure the release of those two prisoners.”
“Can he do that?” The other guard asked.
The first guard shrugged. “Come up top to sign the paperwork.”
“Go and get it,” Dexter said. The guard ignored him, however, so he looked to Kragor again.
“Go get it,” the dwarf parroted, clearly annoyed.
“I head back up them stairs I ain’t coming back down here today,” the guard said.
“What’s their bond?” Kragor asked.
“5 gold for the eunuch, and 50 for the elf.”
“50 gold?” Dexter protested. He knew they had inflated the prices to line their own pockets, but that was a ludicrous amount. Not only that, but he had no idea where he was going to get 50 gold.
“Here,” Kragor said, reaching into a pouch at his belt and counting out 55 gold coins.
Dexter stared at him, stunned. He looked at the guard who smiled smugly. He counted the coins and then tested a couple with his teeth before motioning for the other guard to open the door and let the other two prisoners out. The stepped out of the cell quickly and fell in behind Dexter.
“Right, you’re free to go,” the guard said.
“What about my things?” Dexter protested.
“Don’t I have to sign something?” Kragor asked, confused.
“Your things were part of your issue from the Federation, they belong to us, not you,” the guard said to Dexter, sneering.
“Now get out of here and hope I don’t see you again!”
Dexter hesitated a moment then nodded, walking down the passage towards the stairs and the fresh air of freedom.
* * * *
“What can you tell me to keep me from spilling your blood here and now?” Dexter said after he had slammed the nearly bald man into the wall of an alley not far from the Federation prisons.
“Aye, and why’d the guard call you a eunuch?” Kragor said, squinting one eye and widening the other to look mildly deranged. It was a good look for the dwarf.
The sudden captive looked back and forth between them while the elf woman, Jenna, prowled at the mouth of the alley to discourage anybody from showing too much interest.
“Gelded or not, no man gets away with blackmailing me!” Dexter said, tightening his grip.
“I’m no man.”
“What?”
“What?”
Dexter and Kragor looked at one another for their simultaneous questions. The stranger suddenly spun in Dexter’s grip, breaking free, and moved in a way that suggested a graceful and flowing dance as much as much as it did anything. Dexter turned to face the man.
“He’s a she, and she’s a half elf,” Jenna said from behind them.
As though they were twins, both Dexter and Kragor again repeated, “What?”
“Tis true, My name is Bekka, I am half-elf and half-human.”
“But you’ve got no hair!” Kragor protested. “No self respecting woman would cut their hair off!”
“I’m not a dwarf,” Bekka said.
“Aye, but…but…”
Dexter’s hand fell on Kragor’s shoulder, silencing his sputtering friend. “How about you tell me what you’re about.”
“My thanks,” Bekka said, bowing her head. “I heard what you said to her and I believe I have found someone that I have been looking for. Someone willing to look beyond race and parentage, to a person’s true worth. Am I right?”
Dexter looked at Jenna, who just shrugged noncommittally. Kragor was still trying to understand her chosen haircut, so he was of no use to the man either. Finally Dexter nodded. “Go on.”
“I can fight and I have some magic at my disposal, I would offer you my services if you would have me,” she said.
“Jenna, keep an eye on her please,” Dexter said, grabbing Kragor’s shirt and pulling him after him deeper into the alley. Dexter glanced back at Jenna but her eyes were glued to Bekka, like a hawk to her prey.
“What do you think?” Dexter asked the dwarf.
“What do I think? You’re daft, boy-o, that’s what I think! You’re hiring a crew straight outta the brig? Daft ain’t the word!”
Dexter waved him silent. “Trust me, Kragor, Jenna is a good pick.”
Kragor snorted. “She’s an elf, no trusting them. You mark my words, Dex, she can’t be trusted!”
Dexter sighed. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye on her. Now the other one. It’d be nice to have a spare helmsman, and better if she’s a wizard, she can help us get the Hawk’s Talon charged up!”
“I figured we’d buy a battery to get her enough juice to bring her to a dock,” Kragor offered.
“How’d you get so much gold?” Dexter asked, suddenly remembering the pouch full of gold at Kragor’s side.
Kragor grinned. “Been busy while you’ve been resting with your girlfriends. Brought the cat and the ballista back on the ant after I fixed her up and sold them off to some people I know. Then bought more supplies and did more work on the ship.”
Dexter shook his head. He clapped the dwarf on the back and turned back. Kragor frowned and spoke up, “Wait, I didn’t tell you what I thought of them.”
Dexter shrugged, “That’s okay, I made up my mind.”
The dwarf stood there for a moment, jaw open in stunned surprise. Dexter looked back at him and winked, “It’s good to be the captain,” he said.
Kragor spat on the ground and hurried after his captain.
“I’m not a wizard, I’m a sorceress,” Bekka said when they returned.
Dexter looked at Kragor, who just shrugged. “You hear a lot, don’t you?” Dexter accused her.
Bekka nodded. “Not as much as she does.”
All eyes turned to Jenna, who met Dexter’s stare with her own. “Well?” he asked her.
Jenna held his gaze for a moment then nodded. “It’s true,” she admitted, shooting a silent glare Bekka’s way. “Elves hear well. As for trusting me, I owe you my life, or at least my honor, until that’s been repaid you’ve naught to fear.”
“And then?” Dexter asked her.
“And then we’ll see how well we get along.”
Dexter stared at her again for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”
Kragor muttered something in his native tongue and yanked his beard in disbelief. Dexter’s hand patted him reassuringly on the shoulder to calm him down.
“Alright, Bekka, I’ll give you a chance. Try pulling what you did in that cell again though and I’ll bleed you then and there,” Dexter said.
Bekka nodded, smiling. “And the both of you need some equipment. Weapons we got; clothing we don’t. Let’s go shopping.”
“The Fed guards took all my money,” Jenna said, looking annoyed.
“Mine as well,” Bekka said.
“Aye, they do that,” Dexter said. “Consider this an advance on your pay then.”
“What is to be my pay?” Jenna asked.
Dexter had turned to leave the alley and head towards the merchants section, but the elf’s question made him pause. He turned back to face her and glanced at Kragor, who tried to subtly make a gesture with his hand: that of a fist with a thumb pointing down. Dexter chuckled.
“How do you want it?” Dexter asked. “Standard rates or a percentage?”
“Percentage?” Jenna asked, a little surprised. “Are you a pirate or something?”
“No,” he replied without hesitation. “But I’m not running a merchant ship either. From time to time we will have some odd jobs and unusual fares.”
“So what’s the cut?” Jenna asked.
Another glance at Kragor yielded Dexter another less than subtle thumbs down, indicating the dwarf advised a low rate. Dexter smiled and looked back to Jenna. “Seven percent. More if you prove you’re as good as you claim.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
Dexter turned to Bekka. “You?”
Bekka just shrugged, something that unsettled him a little. “Whatever you feel is fair,” she said.
Dexter looked at Kragor, who stared at the half-elf with even more confusion than before. “I get the feeling you’re testing me,” Dexter said.
Bekka smiled mysteriously. “We’re all being tested every minute of every day.”
Dexter nodded. “Alright, then I’ll do the same for you.”
“What kind of ship is it?” Jenna asked, ignoring Bekka.
“It’s a trader class, with some personal modifications,” Kragor said, puffing out his chest proudly.
Jenna smirked, “What trader isn’t fixed up?”
Kragor glowered at her but bit his tongue. Dexter shook his head and sighed, wondering if he had too many personalities on the ship already. He turned and stepped out of the alley, glancing back at them to say, “You coming?”
They followed him as he made his way through the busy streets of New Haven. Jenna drew several surprised and often hostile looks, prompting Dexter to think that she needed something with a hood to hide her face. They ducked into the first store he found and tried to purchase just that, but the shopkeeper refused to do business with an elf present.
Dexter sighed and they went back outside. Rather than try another store Dexter asked her what she might require, then had Kragor tell him which dock the ant was berthed at and give him the belt with the money pouch on it. He sent them off, leaving Bekka with him to help him carry the goods he acquired.
Bekka received some strange looks, for only at a quick glance in poor light would someone mistake her for a man. Her features had a faint elven cast to them, but the lack of hair distracted people enough that no one made the jump to figuring her as a half-elf, even given her slight stature. That, and, for their current mission, Bekka served as a pack mule.
They returned well over an hour later to the ant. Dexter scarcely recognized it at first. Kragor had rebuilt the ant with lumber from the ruined dart and skiff, strengthening it and even improving upon it. The helm remained closed in the aft section of the ship, and the middle section was now open decking with only a railing around it. Not only was the mid-ship cabin removed, but Kragor had lowered the floor to allow the stowage of cargo in it, save for a two foot section around the edges for walking. The forward section, once built up into a small forecastle home to a light ballista, now was as flat as the mid-section with only a wooden railing about it.
The ant retained the six landing struts to allow it to land on land, and Kragor had gone one step further in reinforcing the resemblance to its namesake by building a set of pincers on the very front of it. Dexter had to chuckle at the dwarf’s attention to detail, even though he was sure the pincers served no purpose.
“That’s an impressive boat,” Bekka said as they approached it. Dexter nodded, silently agreeing with her. He mused that perhaps there was more to Kragor’s skill in shipbuilding than he had originally credited him with.
Jenna stood at the front of the boat while Kragor was rummaging around in the aft cabin, making noise but doing only the Gods knew what. Dexter climbed the ramp and surveyed the ship, nodding at how it still needed a lot of work to finish it off, but structurally it appeared to be quite sound.
“Kragor!” Dexter yelled, heading to the aft careful to avoid the three foot plunge into the cargo area. He told Bekka to head to the bow and give Jenna the items they had procured for her.
The dwarf emerged a few moments later, grinning foolishly. Dexter looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do this time?”
“Made a funnel!” The dwarf said happily.
“A funnel?”
“Aye, for the long trips when you’ve got to use the head we ain’t got on here.”
Dexter groaned and covered his face in his hand. When he finally took it away he looked at his first mate and pretended he knew nothing of what the dwarf had just said. “The ant looks good, Kragor. Damned good.”
Kragor beamed with pride. “Aye, took some work but she’s better now than she was before, for what we need ‘er for!”
Dexter had to admit that the dwarf was right. “Needs some finishing up, but you earned your pay!”
Kragor chuckled. “Speaking o’ pay, how ya planning on doing that?”
Dexter stuck his head in the aft cabin and looked around. It had a small room set up with the helm in it, a larger room with three bunks and three chests, and a tiny final room with naught but Kragor’s latest contraption. He nodded appreciatively and turned back to the dwarf.
“You sold the ballista from here and the weapons off the Hawk’s Talon?” Dexter asked him.
Kragor shook his head. “Kept the one from the Hawk’s Talon, but moved it below. Couple people can carry it right quick and set it up to fire.”
Dexter nodded, that made sense. Possessing a ship weapon in Federation space could get a captain fined, or worse, but it might just be worth the risk. Of course a light ballista was hardly a threat to anything larger than the ant they stood upon, and even that could take quite a few hits.
“Is this all that’s left?” Dexter asked, tapping the pouch at his side.
Kragor shook his head. “Stashed some on the Hawk’s Talon, and a bit more under the bottom bunk over there. Pop up a loose board and you’ll find another 30 gold.”
“And back on that Hawk’s Talon?”
“40 pieces.”
Dexter nodded. “How much work to be done yet?”
Kragor stroked his beard while he crunched the numbers in his head. “Week or so, with the new help I’m reckoning. We’re awful shy on crew,” he pointed out.
Dexter nodded. “Aye, but we’ve got one more on the way.”
“Eh? Who?”
“Been meaning to talk to you about that,” Dexter admitted.
Kragor scowled. “What fool scheme you for now, boy?”
Dexter grinned. “We need a cook.”
Kragor’s eyes widened. He stared at Dexter and then looked to the ceiling. He continued looking around until he saw the lone bunk behind him, which he moved and sat on. “You really are daft,” he muttered before continuing. “Jodyne’s good with her knives. We go askin’ her that and she’ll put one in your eye and two in your chest ere ya hit the ground.”
“Not if we show her how much you can make doing this,” Dexter said, sitting next to him.
Kragor took a deep breath and blew it out. “You’re mad, I says.”
Dexter chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Maybe, but I got us a ship and a boat to lash alongside it.”
Kragor stroked his beard, which was all the proof Dexter needed to know the dwarf was thinking and would agree with him. He clapped him on the back again and stood up. “When you’re ready to go to her, come on out and let me know.”
Dexter left the cabin and headed to the bow of the ship, where he accepted a stiff thanks from Jenna as she examined the items he purchased for her. Nothing fine nor delicate, he got her a couple of cloaks and some loose fitting clothing. Bekka’s gear was much the same.
Kragor joined them a few moments later, looking none too happy. “You trust them here?” he asked, jerking his head towards Bekka and Jenna.
Dexter looked at them briefly and nodded. Kragor grunted and turned to the plank. “Let’s be off then.”
Dexter chuckled and looked at the other two. “We should be back in a couple of hours, if not… well, wait as long as you like.”
Jenna burned to ask for details, Dexter could tell, but she kept her mouth shut. Bekka just nodded and took the spare equipment to the back so it was out of sight on the deck. Dexter followed Kragor down the gangplank and quickly caught up to his shorter legged friend.
The dwarf remained stoic and silent as they trudged through New Haven to the tavern where his wife would be cooking dinner. The smell of it reminded Dexter of just how hungry he was. He had spent two weeks eating swill in the prison, after all.
A new bartender was behind the bar and the tavern’s owner was nowhere to be seen. Dexter led the way to a table and, when one of the barmaids saw them she hurried over.
“You’re not to be coming here,” she hissed.
Dexter smiled disarmingly at her. “Not to worry, Kaytlin, we’ve gold to spend and stomachs that need filling.”
“Master Twinver’ll have my hide if I serve you!” The girl glanced towards the door to the office and bit her lip.
“I’ll not say a thing,” Dexter promised her, winking.
“You’re spoiling for a fight, aren’t you?” She asked, clearly suspicious.
“Not particularly,” Dexter said. “Now be a dear, Kaytlin, and fetch us a couple of ales and whatever Jodyne’s cooking up.”
Kaytlin searched his eyes and then the dour dwarf’s before finally shaking her head and walking to the bar to fill their order. Dexter slapped the table happily and looked at his friend. “See, things are looking up already!”
Kragor rolled his eyes and remained silent. Kaytlin returned with drinks and then, a few moments later, meals. Dexter handed her a gold piece, far more than the simple fare was worth, but he had a point to prove. She could not hide her surprise and went away a little less suspicious than before.
After they ate Kragor took a deep breath. Dexter grinned and nodded towards the kitchen. “Alright, but remember I warned ya!” The dwarf said, hopping up off his chair.
As though he was a doomed sailor walking the plank, Kragor trudged towards the kitchen. He expected disaster at any moment. Dexter watched him, part anxious for his friend, part anxious for himself, and part amused. Kragor made a fine example of why a smart man stayed single.
Dexter sipped his ale cautiously, waiting. Kragor disappeared through the door into the kitchen several minutes before the first sound of a pan striking something — Dexter hoped it was the stove or a wall — could be heard. Less than a minute later the door to the kitchen flew open and Jodyne came stomping out of it, her red hair and beard a testimony to her fiery nature.
She stomped up to Dexter and glared at him. “Dexter Silvercloud, what’s this nonsense you’ve got my husband talking about?”
Kragor walked out of the kitchen then, a slight bit unsteady on his feet and a growing welt on his forehead where something cast in iron had crashed into him. Dexter could not help but laugh.
“What’re you for?” Jodyne demanded, hands on her hips. “Think you this is funny, do ya?”
Dexter held up his hands. “No, no, Jodyne, this is what Kragor told me to expect is all, I’m laughing because he was right and I was wrong.”
“You was wrong, was you? What did you say?”
Kragor looked at Dexter pleadingly from behind and was motioning frantically for him to shut up.
“Jodyne, please forgive me, I said you’d given up hope on him and that it was a waste of time,” Dexter said, his tone and expression apologetic. “I said we needed you for our ship, but there was no way you’d be agreeing to it.”
Jodyne glared at him and then turned to Kragor, who tucked his hands into his beard and stared longingly at her. “He don’t deserve me,” Jodyne said.
“Aye, that has the ring of truth to it.”
Jodyne whirled on Dexter. “And you neither!” she said. “You’re the one always pulling him off on one fool adventure or another!”
Dexter had the good grace to look shamed. He reached down to the sack of coins that Kragor had pulled from the loose board on the ant and tossed it on the table. “What you say is true, Jodyne.”
She stared at the bag as though her lethal glare would reveal the contents of it. It had made a resounding and metallic noise when it landed. “That’s some of what we’ve made so far, just the two of us without a crew. We’re putting a crew together now, and we want you on it.”
Jodyne snatched up the bag and opened it, looking inside to satisfy her curiosity. She handed it back to Dexter, amazed, and then turned to look at Kragor. “I’d never turn me back on you,” she said after a moment. Kragor smiled at her, hopefully. “You’re just so thick-skulled at times, it’s hard getting you to know what’s best!”
Kragor nodded and stepped closer to her. Dexter gave him a thumbs up and winked over Jodyne’s back. She stepped closer to him and gave him a hug, earning a round of applause and cheers from the growing crowd of customers and staff. Unfortunately this also brought the attention of Master Twinver and he walked out of his office.
“What’s this about?” He shouted. His eyes fell on Dexter and his cheeks flared red with anger. He moved through the crowd until he stood on the far side of the table from the source of his irritation.
“You,” Jodyne said, turning and pointing her finger at Dexter. Master Twinver’s open mouth issued no sound as the threatening voice boomed out of Jodyne’s mouth. “You’ll not be taking my husband off on any more fool-headed adventures… least not without me there to keep you boys to heel.”
Dexter nodded. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “Now come see what Kragor’s done, you’ll be right proud of him, I promise.”
She peered at him suspiciously then nodded, taking off her apron and tossing it to the inn’s owner. “You’ll be needing a new cook, Master Twinver.”
His mouth opened and closed as he searched for words. The three of them left the inn with him still trying to figure out what just happened.
Dexter piloted the ship with as much skill as ever, impressing his new crew as they skirted around asteroids seemingly destined to crush them. When he put them down in the shadowed depression on the asteroid they stared at the Hawk’s Talon, impressed. Even Dexter was speechless and he had seen it only two weeks prior.
Kragor had repaired the hull completely using the spare lumber. A small pile of it was still stocked beside the ship. A proper gangplank, constructed from ground to the deck, offered them a somewhat steep means of access. Dexter could only imagine what sort of repairs had been made on the deck and inside.
“Where’s the rest of the crew,” Jenna asked once they had set down.
“We run lean to maximize profits,” Dexter said, as though there was nothing odd about the thought.
“You can’t fly a trader with only five people!” Jenna said. They size of her eyes showed she thought he was mad.
“I can fly it with just me,” Dexter assured her. “She won’t turn so well, but she’ll fly.”
Jenna closed her eyes and turned away, biting her next words off.
Bekka stared at it and smiled. “I think it’s beautiful.”
Kragor grinned at her praise, knowing it had a ways to go yet, but for all of that, it had come even farther largely due to his hard work.
“You did all this?” Jodyne asked him.
“I helped him,” Dexter said, “but Kragor knew what needed doing and showed me what to do. He’s rigged it up special too, so it needs fewer people but responds better.”
“It looks heavy,” Jenna said.
“Aye,” Kragor said. “I make her about five over. Some extra room and better rigging.”
“Built to dock on land or water?” Bekka asked as they got close and she saw it was not in a dry dock, but rather it had its own landing struts and a flat bottom to it.
Kragor told her it was so, and added that the wings had been changed with a pivoting mount that would allow them to rotate enough aid in a sharper turn. He went on to say that the vertical fin had been lowered somewhat to allow for a lower gravity plane on the vessel. Kragor pointed all of these things out as they approached it, not hiding his pride at how impressed they all were with his accomplishments.
Up on the deck of the ship Dexter took in the sights and saw that again Kragor had outdone himself. A lot of it needed sanding down still, but the broken planks had been fixed and the deck was sound. Kragor led them below, taking the forward stairs down, which had been changed from the space-consuming angled staircase to a circular one. Dexter looked to Kragor and grinned, making the dwarf glow with pride. He pointed to the second door, which was the captain’s room on their right, the starboard side, just before the bridge. Dexter glanced in and nodded. It had a sizeable bunk, a small table with a chair, and a large chest in it.
The bridge was next, which was where the helm rested as well as a large table for meetings and going over charts. Shuttered windows offered a view of the void, or would offer it when they were flying and the shutters were thrown back.
On the other side of the bow companionway was a smaller bedroom with a bunk, a small table that dropped from the wall and used the bunk as a chair, and a chest for personal belongings. Bekka volunteered to take it, stating that she did not need much room and would like to be close to the helm in case she was needed on it. No one could fault her reasoning. She dropped her stuff off while the rest moved on.
Next to Dexter’s room there was another door in front of the spiral staircase. Kragor showed Jodyne into their bedroom, which possessed a bunk large enough for the two dwarves to sleep comfortably, and similar creature comforts to what Dexter’s cabin had, save it possessed two trunks. Dexter clapped him on the shoulder in good humor, glad to see that his friend had planned for his wife joining them.
Across the hall from the stairway was another small room, this one containing the ship’s head. It looked functional, and Kragor assured them it was, so they moved on.
On most traders there is a hallway and a door into the room Kragor and Jodyne were using. By changing the stairs and moving the door Kragor had freed up several feet of space to use to enlarge one of the cargo holds. Instead of the bedroom it had once been, it now resembled a cargo hold once again, including the trap door in the ceiling allowing cargo to be loaded into it from the main deck. The opposite side of the companionway possessed the other cargo hold, this one every bit as authentic and original as what it had been built like when first commissioned. The only thing of note in the port cargo hold was the light ballista resting in the middle of the room.
Aft of the twin cargo holds, on the port side, lay the sail locker. Beyond it, to the aft, was the aft stairway.
Across from the sail locker lay another room. This one was the largest yet, save for the cargo holds, and had racks and shelves placed throughout it for weapons, armor, and supplies. Jenna surveyed the room for a long moment, long enough for the others to move on while she studied the small collection of weapons Kragor had already placed in the racks.
“I’ll sleep here,” she said.
Dexter and the others turned back. “What? In here?”
“Yes. You want me to be your Armmistress, I ‘spect to be in charge of the weapons on the ship. Makes sense I handle the supplies too. Best way I see of doing that is in making it my room,” she explained.
Dexter nodded and smiled. “Good thinking.”
“Kragor, can you help her out?” Dexter asked, stepping aside so the dwarf could look into the room.
He tugged his beard then nodded. “Aye, I can get a bunk in here quick enough, build a drop table, grab a chest… that hold ya?”
Jenna nodded. “Yes.”
“Right, well, I’ll get started in a minute. Captain, the rest?”
Dexter nodded and let Kragor show him the final four rooms of the vessel. They were under the stern castle now, allowing for taller ceilings in the aft rooms. The first door on the right, which was the port side, was the pantry and galley. Jodyne looked at everything within and nodded that it would do.
The next door was on the back wall and opened into a room some twelve feet deep by twenty four feet wide. Dexter counted ten bunks and matching chests, with the lower a few feet off the ground and the upper closer to six feet up. The ceiling was another six feet up from the top bunk, offering the possibility of additional bedding for up to five more, should the need arise for additional crew.
The final two doors were across from the galley. Each room was roughly the size of the captain’s quarters, if not a bit larger, and each was equipped as a bedroom. Dexter nodded at seeing the staterooms, appreciating his friend’s recognition that they might, at times, be carrying important passengers.
They gathered together again back up on the deck so they could begin to understand their duties before going about them. “Kragor, what’s your best guess at an optimal crew size?”
“Optimal?” The dwarf asked, tugging his beard in his trademark fashion. “If’n we’re all being counted, I’d say we need a couple of deckhands to help with the rigging.”
Dexter nodded. “But you think we can sail her as she is?”
Kragor nodded, “Aye, she’ll sail… but you still be needing some power in the ship to handle tactical speeds. Once we get up in the void we can let the sails take over, getting there’s the trick.”
Dexter turned to Bekka and asked, “Can you put some magic into the ship?”
The half-elf paled at the request, but she nodded. Dexter watched her a moment then figured he would ask her later. “Alright, Kragor you’ve got work to do, anybody not doing anything else please help him. Jenna, inventory the weapons and let me know what else you need. Make sure you and Bekka are both armed as well.”
Dexter glanced down at his own empty waist and grinned foolishly. “Guess I’d best be getting some too!”
He turned to Jodyne and smiled. “Jodyne, tell me what you need for the galley. Kragor, when you get a moment, I need to know how much canvas I need to buy for the sails.”
He paused, studying the three women before asking, “Um, someone knows how to stitch the sails, right?”
Jenna rolled her eyes and very softly muttered something in her native tongue, but said nothing.
Bekka smirked, either at Jenna’s actions and words or at Dexter’s question. “Yes, Captain, I can stitch and show anyone who would like to help,” she said.
Dexter smiled. “Good! Well then, let’s get to work!”
Having no charts or plans, Dexter spent much of his time helping Kragor with the remaining work. Bekka approached him after they secured a bunk to Jenna’s room. Dexter told her to follow him and they walked up to the front near the helm.
“It’s a good helm, Captain,” Bekka began. “I charged the ship as best I could and I’m needing some rest now. It’ll be several days of charging before it’ll be ready to fly and, truth be told, I don’t much like the feeling of having my magic drained out of me like that.”
Dexter nodded. “I understand. I’m planning on picking up a battery to help, but that comes last. We’re running low on money and all we’ve got is dry rations for food and no sails yet.”
“Yes Sir,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”
Dexter saw the troubled look on her face and opened his mouth to ask what it was about channeling her magic in the helm that bothered her, but decided now wasn’t the time.
“It’s different for those like me,” she explained.
Dexter fought the urge to jump and wondered if she’d read his mind.
“Wizards and priests learn their power, it’s not natural. Those like me, sorceresses and the like, magic comes natural to us, and to have it drained out of us like that is uncomfortable.”
Dexter bit his lip and nodded. “I can’t say I understand, since I don’t have your gift, but I will say that as soon as we can do it another way we will. That’s all I can promise.”
She nodded. “That will do, Captain. Thank you.”
Dexter paused at the door and turned back. “Bekka, have you and Jenna met before?”
Bekka smiled. “No, she dislikes me because I’m a half-breed. I’m impure, to her. You and even Kragor are better than I am.”
“Because we’re pure?” Dexter asked.
Bekka nodded. “It is the way with elves. Many races feel that way, but none so strongly as elves.”
Dexter nodded, thinking about it. “I’ve only seen a few half elves in my life,” he admitted.
“You’ve only recognized a few, many take pains to disguise themselves.”
“Fair enough,” Dexter admitted. “Being shunned like that must put a lot of hate in a person.”
Bekka smiled. “You keep passing tests, Captain.”
Dexter returned her smile and said, “Get some rest, not much you can do to help right now, I don’t reckon.”
Back in Jenna’s room Kragor worked on building a table that would fold down from the wall. Meanwhile Jenna was doing her best to ignore him. When Dexter entered she turned to face him.
“I need some parchment to write down our supplies and some ink and a quill, or at least some charcoal,” she told him.
Dexter had no chance to hide his surprised look. “You mean to keep track with books?”
“You want it done right?” she asked.
“It’s only us on the ship, I trust you to run it right.”
She shrugged. “You do a lot of trusting.”
“I do,” he admitted, winking at her. “Let me know when it’s a bad idea.”
She opened her mouth then closed it. At a sudden loss for words she turned back to the weapons and, with her back to him, asked, “What do you need?”
“A decent sword, a couple of knives, and a pistol,” he said, rattling off his standard fare.
She gathered the equipment and handed it to him one item at a time. Dexter set the weapons on her cot when he realized he could not hold them all at once. She handed him a weapon belt with a scabbard on it last. With the belt on he tied the daggers, already in sheaths, to it and slid the sword home. The pistol he tucked through the belt and then tied on the two small sacks containing fire powder and lead balls for shot.
“Arm yourself then join me on the deck, I’d like to see how good you are,” Dexter said.
Jenna looked at the weapons and shrugged. She grabbed a longsword, a dagger, and a pistol. Dexter noted she already had secured a belt around her waist. He made his way up the staircase and onto the deck, followed closely by the elf warrior. He stopped finally and drew his blade, turning to face her.
Jenna drew hers and looked at it, frowning a little. He lunged forward, certain she would not be caught off guard. He was right. She turned his blade aside and countered, striking back at him, which he dodged.
The two fought for several minutes, testing each other out and noting strengths and weaknesses. Jenna was skilled enough with the longsword, but her skill was nothing that left him speechless. She was good enough to kill the average man, Dexter knew, but he had hoped for a little more out of her. Finally, both of them sweating, Dexter held up his hand to signal an end to the fight.
“Enough, I’m getting distracted,” he said. “You fought well.”
“Distracted?” Jenna asked between breaths. “By what?”
“You need to change your shirt,” was all he said.
Jenna realized that she still wore the torn shirt from the prison. She laughed, surprising Dexter. She had not realized that it was now so loose that any abrupt twist, lunge, or other movement would have one or both breasts spilling out of it.
“Why are you laughing?” Dexter asked, confused. He was trying to save her from embarrassment and humiliation.
“You humans, so modest… I’ll have to remember that and make use of it,” she said.
Dexter looked at her, brows furrowing at his lack of understanding.
“The body is a beautiful thing,” Jenna explained. “Not something to be hidden and ashamed of. My people wear clothing to be sensible, fashionable, or for protection, not because it bothers us if others see us without it.”
“Oh,” Dexter said, suddenly the uncomfortable one. “I, um, I guess that makes sense.”
Jenna grinned at him, enjoying his discomfort. “Perhaps next time I’ll fight you nude.”
“Not sure I could handle that,” Dexter admitted.
Jenna chuckled. “Yes, Captain,” she said. She turned to head back below then stopped and twisted her torso to look back at him. “Captain?”
Dexter chanced a look at her, noticing almost instantly that the way she had twisted gave him a clear line of sight to the full swell of one breast behind one half of her torn shirt. He forced his eyes up to hers and fought to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Um, yes?”
“If you’ve the money when you return for supplies could you pick me up a rapier and a short sword? You might find me a little more challenging thus armed.”
Dexter nodded, anything to escape the embarrassment he felt.
She made her way down the staircase and Dexter let out a deep sigh. “Gods,” he muttered. “What am I doing with women on the ship?”
He shook his head and headed towards the forward staircase to head below deck. All the while he tried to figure out why he had felt embarrassed when she was the one accidentally exposing herself
The next day, with Jodyne at his side, Dexter returned to New Haven for more supplies. He picked up the foodstuffs she needed, as well as the cooking utensils and even a hotstone, which cost 10 gold by itself but kept Jodyne from using a flame to cook any food on the ship. He had plans for a magical frostbox, to keep food fresh, but the cost prohibited him from buying it.
The largest expense came from the dozens of yards of canvas, thread, and needles he had to buy. He had enough left that he found himself drawn to a weaponsmith’s shop. Jodyne had returned to the ship to await the delivery of the canvas from the tailor’s shop.
When Dexter returned to the ant he had a rapier hanging from a baldric over his shoulder. The canvas had been delivered, and with nothing else to do, Dexter paid for the dock authority to recharge the ant’s helm, then he paid the docking fees and piloted the ship back to the asteroid field.
Bekka rose from her nap and helped Jodyne carry in the supplies. She looked pale, but nodded to him when he mentioned the canvas. A tired smile accompanied the nod, convincing him to once again mind his own business. He noticed that she must have acquired a dagger from Jenna as well; the stubble on her head had been freshly shaved.
Jenna was on the deck, practicing with her long sword and a dagger. Dexter came up behind her and cleared his throat, but she did not slow her rapid movements. “Need something, Captain?”
Dexter took the baldric off and, for lack of a better idea, said, “Try this,” and threw it in the air to her.
Jenna spun around, sliding her long sword in her scabbard smoothly and catching the baldric just before it hit the deck. She straightened up and looked at it, then at Dexter. She grinned and slipped it over her shoulder and tightened it.
“Not going to be much left of my first wages,” she said, smiling. “You ready for that rematch now?”
Dexter smirked and reached for his blade. He stopped, suddenly nervous. “You’re, um, you’re not going to take your clothes off, are you?”
Jenna laughed. “Only if you order me to, Captain.”
Dexter laughed. “Some other time maybe. For now, defend yourself.”
Jenna drew her sword and parried Dexter’s lunge, turning it over and driving his blade out so he was off balance and overextended. She kept his sword out and stepped in to his reach, driving her dagger towards him. She stopped the lethal motion in time enough to let the tip of it press against his abdomen.
“I win,” she said, smirking.
“Luck,” Dexter said, more than a little surprised at her extreme skill with the rapier. “Again.”
They dueled for several more minutes, and with the exception of one time, Jenna had him soundly beaten. Finally Dexter held up his hand to signal an end to it. “Not sure it’s safe for me to find a short sword too.”
Jenna just grinned. Not a sarcastic or fake grin, but one filled with the thrill of victory. “Thank you… Captain.”
Dexter nearly asked her what she meant, then decided either he already knew, or he did not want to. He nodded and gestured at the ant parked off in the distance. “Enough play, there’s work to be done. Time to earn your pay.”
“What’s this tub named, anyhow?” Jenna asked as the walked down the plank. The bow had yet to have a name painted into it.
Dexter glanced back at the ship. Hawk’s Talon was its old name, but the ship hardly resembled what it had once been. “The Voidhawk.”
Jenna glanced back up at it and nodded. “Good name.”