There are several ways to find work for an enterprising captain. The most common was by word of mouth. Those that did well in the business built up a reputation at their ports of call. Those that did not… well, they were not long for the business.
Another way was to register at the dockyards. That tended to offer a captain far less choice about what he carried and who he worked for. It was not something Dexter, or many other captains, liked to chance. For the down and out, or for those that just did not care, it provided stable, if low paying, work.
An aggressive captain could make his way to local businesses, nobles, and of course the Federation offices to try and see if he could drum up any work. Doing that, however, put the captain at a weakened position when it came time for negotiations. Most owner / operators found it to be unpleasant work as well.
Of the most common options for landing a job, Dexter chose none of them. Instead he frequented some of the seedier bars and placed a few inquiries here and there that would be passed along. He expected this would letting those who were interested know he was available for work that, while not necessary sanctioned by the powers-that-be, tended to be a little more lucrative.
The Voidhawk remained safely stashed away in her shady little niche on the asteroid, lit only by the lightstones they placed throughout the ship’s interior and, when deckwork was necessary, on the deck. As dangerous as the Playground was, the kinds of people that traveled through it were equally treacherous, so they kept visible light to a minimum.
Dexter sat by himself, having taken the ant back to New Haven in the hopes of finding something to keep them all busy other than rebuilding the ‘Hawk. He worried he might have to raise more money if their unemployment continued much longer. He had no use for the ant once they were finished with the Voidhawk, it was too large, at nearly thirty feet long, to lash to the hull of the Voidhawk. Still, it had proven very useful to them and Kragor had put a lot of work into it. Maybe he would just leave it stored on their asteroid hideaway for safekeeping.
His musings were cut short by the approach of a scantily clad woman. He sized her up, appreciating what she was advertising even if something about her put him off. He paid her no further mind until sat down at the table he alone occupied.
“Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, her voice rougher than he expected. Reaching into a bag at her side she pulled out a smokestick from a metal tin. A snap of her fingers ignited a magical flame that caused the end to grow red. She puffed on it and exhaled a cloud of flavored smoke through her painted lips towards Dexter.
“Depends,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes out of her excessive cleavage. “What do you want?”
She took another drag on her smokestick, smiling around it, and then laughed as she exhaled the pungent smoke. Crossing her legs and displaying a criminal amount of thigh through a slit in her flowing skirts, she asked, “Maybe I want you?”
“Maybe I’m already taken,” Dexter replied, smiling back at her.
“That’s too bad, it would have been a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she said, licking her lips.
What she seemed to be offering suddenly clicked. “Go on,” he prompted, showing his interest.
“How about that drink?”
Dexter nodded, smiling. Such was the cost of doing business. He turned and raised his hand to catch a barmaid’s eye. She saw him and he gestured at his strange table mate. She nodded and headed for the counter.
“That’s better,” she said after taking a drink of the ale the barmaid delivered. Dexter handed the barmaid a silver piece, overpaying her on purpose.
“Man with that kind of money to throw around you might not need my kind of work,” she said.
Dexter shrugged. “These girls work hard and get little more than pinched bottoms and crude jokes in return. This keeps the water out of my ale and my food off of the floor.”
“You’re a rare man, Captain,” she said around another mouthful of smoke.
Dexter shrugged off the compliment, or what he interpreted as a compliment. “About that mutually beneficial arrangement?”
She smiled and dropped her smokestick to the floor, stepping on it and crushing the glowing cherry. “Yes, about that. You’re new to the business of shipping?”
Dexter shrugged. “Been around it my whole life, just been flying scout for the Feds up till now.”
“Word is you’ve had a disagreement with the Federation, spent some time in a cage I hear?”
Dexter shrugged again. “Word on the street is that my first mate is a half-giant that breathes fire too.”
She raised an eyebrow and then laughed. “Point taken. Enough of the past, let’s talk about the future. Our future.”
“To the future,” Dexter agreed, raising his glass and taking a small drink from it.
“I have some cargo I would like you to transport for me,” she said, looking at him closely for his reaction.
“I’m guessing this cargo be special, else you’d book it on a registered shipping charter.”
“You’re a clever man, Captain,” she congratulated him with only a hint of sarcasm. “I’d like to make sure it avoids inspections and the like.”
“Sounds like smuggling to me,” Dexter said, lowering his voice a little so no one else in the bar heard him. It was noisy enough and filled with enough people that he had little to fear. Still he felt safer for having done it.
“If you’re not interested,” she said, trailing off.
“Never said that,” Dexter replied with a smile. “I just like knowing what I’m getting my crew into is all.”
“You care about your crew?”
“Aye, what captain doesn’t?”
She smirked. “Far more than you know. It speaks well of you.”
He nodded and returned to the topic of the job. “So what’s the cargo?”
“Let’s not get tied up in meaningless details,” she said, sipping her ale and reaching into her bag to pull out her case where she kept her smokesticks.
Dexter raised an eyebrow. He did not like the direction things were going. Unless, of course, it meant a bigger paycheck at the end. “Where’s this detail supposed to be delivered?”
“The third moon of Traxxis, with a penalty of 10 % for every day it’s late,” she replied, pleased that he had not made an issue over the cargo’s ambiguous nature.
“That’s steep, when does it need to be there?”
“Four weeks from tomorrow.”
Dexter’s eyebrow rose. Four weeks to smuggle some cargo to the other side of the Federation space. A straight shot through the heart of Fed space would take a little over two weeks, but dodging patrols and staying outside of normal shipping lanes would put a lot more time on it. “I could guarantee it there safe if you gave me six weeks,” he countered.
“That’s fine, but you’d be doing it for free then, and I don’t think you want that,” she said, lighting her new smokestick.
Dexter frowned. “What kind of payment are we talking about?”
“Name your fee,” she countered, smiling before pulling in the fresh smoke.
Dexter took another sip of his drink as he thought it over. “If you want it there in four weeks free of any Fed inspections or taxes, I want 2500 gold for the risk to my ship and crew.”
“That’s a bit pricy, Captain,” she said without batting an eye.
Dexter shrugged. It was more than a bit pricy, it was outrageous. “You won’t tell me what I’m hauling or how much of it, so I have no idea what it is. In order to get it there in time I need to skirt through the Devil’s Breath, and there’s not many that come out of there in one piece.”
Still not willing to offer any more details, she shrugged and took another drag on her smokestick. “Taxes would cost less,” she suggested.
Dexter grinned. “Aye, they would, but methinks your cargo wouldn’t be taxed. Seized and confiscated is more like it.”
“There are other ships and other captains that will do it for less…”
Dexter was waiting for that line. He was pleased as well that his hunch on her cargo’s illegal nature was apparently on the money. “But none of them know the Federation the way I do. I worked for them, I know how their helmsman think and I know what they’ll do.”
“You’re an unknown,” she pointed out.
“You already checked me out and you approached me, that won’t work.” He responded smugly.
She shrugged finally. “Alright, 2500 it is, minus 10 % for every day you’re late. Tell me where your ship is so I can have the cargo delivered to it.”
Dexter sat there unblinking for a moment, not quite realizing that he had contracted his first job. Then it dawned on him and he nodded, barely hiding his excitement. “Have your ship meet me on the sunward side of The Playground tomorrow morning.”
“I would think you would want as much time as possible, why not earlier, say midnight tonight?”
Dexter thought it over, that gave him about five hours, he could make it, barely, if he hurried. “Alright, we can do that. Who am I working for?”
“Why, you’re working for yourself, Captain Silvercloud. The man you’ll meet at Traxxus III will be named Drevin. Meet him in 29 days at midnight on Traxxus at the Waterview Tavern,” she said, then took a final drink of her ale.
Dexter nodded. Anonymity was not unheard of, especially in the grey area of work he had just gotten himself wrapped up in. “How’m I supposed to get it past the Feds at the port on Traxxis III?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Your concern, Captain, not mine. Showing up without the cargo, however, is inadvisable. Not showing up at all is likely to be even more unfortunate for you, however.”
“You paint a grim picture of failure.”
She smiled warmly and stood up. She leaned over next to his ear and whispered in a seductive voice, “So don’t fail.”
Dexter watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips, then realized that time was against him. He sucked down the rest of his ale and hurried out of the tavern, all but running for the ant.
“You think it’ll be safe down there?” Bekka asked Kragor as the Voidhawk lifted, for the first time, from the seclusion of the shadowy depression.
Kragor was busy running around the ship and making sure it performed as he already knew it would. He scarcely had time for the half-elf’s questions. “Aye, lass, safe as can be.”
The ant was already invisible to them, tucked away in the darkness they had just abandoned. It did not sit well with Dexter to leave the boat behind but it was too large to lash to the deck or the hull of the Voidhawk.
“It’s a fine little boat,” Bekka said fondly of the customized job Kragor had done when he repaired and refit it.
The dwarf moved away from the stern castle heading to check on the mainmast and the rigging on the wings. She smiled after him and shrugged, then turned to man the tail fin, which served as a tiller for a ship in the void.
Jenna was working alongside of Jodyne with the rigging, sales, and wings so that they could maneuver better should the need arise. Kragor’s enhancements had made the ship more maneuverable and reduced the need of the crew size to run it, but they were still shorthanded and moving as rapidly as possible to deal with the cloud of rocks they sailed through.
It took them nearly an hour to dodge the worst of the rocks of the Playground. Kragor scrambled about making last minute repairs. Bekka took the helm to keep the ship steady while Dexter came up on deck and waited for their appointment. Jodyne disappeared below, returning to make sure nothing had gone awry below deck. Jenna stood quietly beside the Captain, showing a patience that he considered unnatural.
In a matter of minutes Jenna’s keen elven eyes spotted their contact moving through the void. It moved close enough until they could see it clearly, drawing an appreciative whistle from Dexter. It was a slim ship that was streamlined for speed and, should the need arise, for using its twin reinforced wooden lances on the bow as a ram to punch a hole clean through a ship.
As it got closer they could see various signs of wear on the hull of the ship, however, everything seemed to be in working order. No obvious weapons were on the hull, by decree of the Federation. Most people did not care much for the law, but it was easier to obey than to face the fines, prison, and possible destruction by the Federation for refusing to abide by them.
The ship’s pilot expertly brought the vessel within hailing range, merging their atmospheres. Greetings were called out and Dexter replied, confirming that they were both who they were supposed to be. The ships then docked side by side, keeping the continuity of their gravity plane for everyone involved in the transfer.
The cargo transferred in crates and barrels. The crew of the Voidhawk took a good enough look at the other ship’s crew to draw their own conclusions. They other crew looked scruffier than they did, confirming they were most likely full time pirates or smugglers.
Dexter ratified the manifest verbally with the captain of the Maiden’s Bane, the name of their new trading partner, and bid him a farewell after flatly turning him down on his offer to borrow Jenna for an hour or so. The Maiden’s Captain left chuckling, then a few moments later the lines were cast and the Maiden’s Bane sailed away into the void.
“The Maiden’s Bane?” Jenna asked him after he walked over and made sure the cargo hatches were securely dogged and sealed.
“Aye, he named it because of the ram,” Dexter told her.
“I don’t get it,” she said, staring after the rapidly departing ship.
“Did you take a look at it?”
“Not that close, why?”
“They’d added a little wood here and there and painted it up to resemble a… um…”
“Oh!” Jenna said, laughing. “I get it now.”
Dexter shrugged a little, blushing in spite of himself. He was glad she had made the jump in logic herself without him having to explain the Maiden’s Bane’s rams faint resemblance to a penis.
“Makes me glad I’m not maiden,” she said after a moment.
Dexter stared after her for a moment and then just shook his head and went below to examine the cargo a little more closely. He took the front stairs and poked his head in the bridge to tell Bekka to start them heading towards Traxxus III, but to avoid any shipping routes.
In the cargo deck Dexter, Jenna, and Kragor stared at the crates and barrels, wondering what it was they were carrying. “Fire powder, I bet,” Kragor said, eyeing one of the barrels.
“Could be,” Dexter offered. Fire powder was not illegal in smaller quantities, but a large shipment without a Federation charter would definitely be considered smuggling. A punishable offense, certainly, but not something dangerous enough to merit the kind of fee he had negotiated.
“Then what’s in these?” Jenna asked, tapping some longer and thicker crates. Dexter looked to Kragor and he looked back. Both shrugged indecisively.
“We could find out,” Jenna offered, tapping her dagger at her side.
“Best leave them be,” Dexter said. “We’ll have enough trouble with the Devil’s Breath and dodging the Feds, no sense in inviting anymore with our customer.”
Jenna frowned but nodded. She walked past the two and left the cargo hold, heading for her room.
“Elves!” Kragor cursed, shaking his head.
“Women,” Dexter corrected, commiserating with the dwarf.
They sailed for two weeks, alternating Bekka and Dexter on the helm in four hour shifts to keep them fresh. Dexter, with Bekka’s assistance, chartered a course that would take them clear of the more heavily patrolled areas of Federation space. There was still some risk, but thus far they avoided any hold ups and had maintained their speed.
The Voidhawk and her helm were holding up well under its first test. Bekka managed to charge it up and it was off of that power that they were running presently. Much to the sorceress’ relief Dexter had told her to stop pouring her energy into the helm. He saw the effect it had on her and he did not like it.
Their speed lagged as they began the second leg of their journey, passing through the edges of the Devil’s Breath. The Devil’s Breath was a giant gas cloud that, while not inhospitable for life, was very unpleasant. Sulfurous and cold, it made breathing a miserable experience. The vapors were not deadly but rumor had it spending extended time amongst the vapors would rob a person of a long life.
What was worse was the many creatures that had no care about the nature of the gas cloud. Ghost ships, the real sorts ran by powerful beings that had no need for breath or life, lay in wait amongst the Devil’s Breath. A few others took advantage of the dangerous nature of both the inhabitants and the cloud and set up bases near it. Anyone seeking refuge near the Devil’s Breath was, by their very nature, not someone Dexter wanted to run in to.
Skirting the gas cloud safely would have taken an extra week of time, a week that dodging Federation patrols had already robbed them of. On top of that, Dexter was wise enough to know anything could, and probably would, still happen.
Fully armed and with all hands on the deck, except for Dexter at the helm, they embarked on the most dangerous part of their voyage. Silence reigned on the deck of the ship leaving everyone taut with tension.
The stress stretched on throughout the multiple days spent sailing through the edges of the cloud. More than once the fumes sent one of them to their bunks with headaches, visions, or simple nausea. Bekka and Dexter rotated on the helm, and both looked more and more drawn with each shift as they strained with shorter rest periods to pilot the vessel clear of the Devil’s Breath.
It took nearly four to reach the edge of the gas cloud. Exhaustion tainted their relief at leaving the wispy tendrils behind. Less than a minute after reaching full sail the ship shuddered and dropped back to regular tactical speed, rousing everyone from the lethargy they had fallen into at the end of the stressful voyage. Dexter ran up on deck and scanned the void, cursing as he did so. Jenna came up from the aft stairs, one hand on her rapier and another on her dagger.
“Fires of hell, what’ve we got here?” Kragor cursed, staring at the three ships closing on them.
“An old warship, a scout, and a… ship,” Dexter said, eyeing the vessel that looked surprisingly familiar last.
“Can’t be the Maiden’s Bane,” Kragor said, eyeing the approaching vessel.
“Your friends are back,” Jenna said, walking up to them and nodding towards the approaching ship.
“Not my friends,” Dexter muttered. “Kragor, think we can outrun them?”
The dwarf and the elf both shook their heads in response to his question. “Not a chance, boy-o, she’s slim and narrow. A quick one, to be sure, and I’m for guessing the warship’s got weapons ready to pound us as we pass if’n we try.”
Dexter cursed. “Maybe they’re meeting us early?” Jenna suggested, knowing her suggestion was false.
“And maybe there’s too much air ‘tween yer pointy ears!” Kragor spat back at her.
Her grip tightened on her blades and she glared at the dwarf. Dexter ignored them and called out, “Bekka,” as he ran down the stairs and headed into the bridge.
She looked withdrawn and tired as soon as he saw her. “We can try to run, but I don’t think we can escape,” she said. “I channeled my power into the helm to give us a little more if we need it though.”
Dexter nodded, appreciative of her effort. “What about the Devil’s Breath?” he asked her.
Her eyes widened, then she shook her head. “We don’t have enough power to make it back through it, especially since we’d have to go slow.”
“But you could recharge us if we can just lose them, right?”
“Captain, we won’t survive. I’ve sensed things in there, things that would tear us apart.
“Damn it!” Dexter stared at his charts for a long second. “What in the hell are we supposed to do?”
“Surrender,” Kragor grumbled from the door to the bridge. “There be no other way.”
Dexter looked at him, feeling his breath sucked from his lungs. Kragor met his gaze and nodded.
“Aye, we just got her, but you showed me what we can do, long as we live we can get another ship,” the first mate said.
Dexter took in the bridge, his hands clasped into fists. Finally he took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head. “Alright, wave the white flag.”
“Bekka, let’s go,” he said, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.
She stood up, staring at him with a great sadness in her eyes. She glanced away and walked out of the bridge. Dexter paused, admiring again the bridge of the Voidhawk, his first real ship, and sighed. A moment later he left the bridge behind him and went up the spiral staircase to the deck.
The Maiden’s Bane pulled up alongside and lines were tossed and secured. Several gruff looking crew members swarmed onto the deck, weapons raised and pointed at Dexter and his crew. Relieved of their weapons and bound with ties behind their backs they stood in silence waiting. The captain of the Maiden’s Bane crossed over. He paused long enough to admire Jenna before stepping in front of Dexter.
“Thanks for getting it past the Feds, you did us a favor,” he said, chuckling a little.
“I don’t suppose your name is Drevin,” Dexter asked.
“As a fact it is,” he said, grinning. “But this don’t count as on time or early delivery.”
“I thought she agreed to the fee too easily,” Dexter mumbled.
“Aye, that’ll teach ya to be getting greedy.”
“The pot has called the kettle black,” Bekka spoke up, unable to restrain herself.
Drevin walked over to her and without any warning backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip and making her cry out. He hit her again when she straightened, then turned back to Dexter.
“Taking women for crew ain’t the way o’ things, but my boys and I appreciate it all the same,” he said with a lecherous grin. He pointed to the Maiden’s Bane and said, “Throw ‘em in the hold, then stow their gear.”
“The ship, Captain?” Asked a scarred pirate.
“It’s in good shape, leave the cargo and have Karl pilot it back. Pick a dozen men for the rigging too,” he said, already heading back to the Maiden’s Bane.
Jenna looked at Dexter, jaw clenched. He shook his head slightly, making her close her eyes and take a deep breath before releasing it. Then they were poked and pushed towards the Maiden’s Bane, where they were imprisoned in a hold converted to a brig.
They felt the Maiden’s Bane slow down and change directions several times, then finally dock. They were led out of the cell and onto the deck, confirming they were indeed docked at a floating collection of lumber.
It did not resemble a ship or even a group of ships, it looked more like a sawmill ate a forest and vomited up the remains, randomly placing wooden planks and beams all over the place. Some portions of it were open to the void, while others were enclosed. Only the docking areas showed any semblance of a pattern, with ramps extending out from the mass to allow the pirate ships to dock.
Also present were several heavy weapons, from ballista to catapults and jettison to even a few bombards. A slow realization dawned on Dexter but he kept his mouth shut until they were alone in a cell on the pirate base.
“I’m thinking we brought them a couple of bombards for their base here,” he shared.
“Blast, ye’re right!” Kragor said, smacking himself in the forehead. “That’s just the size for them boxes.”
Jenna nodded, agreeing with the captain. Bekka and Jodyn just looked on, not knowing one way or another, nor seeing how it made a difference considering their situation.
Dexter opened his mouth to speak again, but the door into the room opened and a man ducked his head and stepped in. All of them stared at him, momentarily speechless. He stood well over six feet tall and looked thick enough and strong enough to be able to tear the base apart with his bare hands.
“What are you?” Dexter asked.
“What?” he asked, his voice the timbre and pitch expected from so large a man. “I’m your guard, Rosh.” The ‘o’ was a hard vowel, making Dexter think of a roach when he said his name even though the giant of a man was a fairly decent looking guy.
“Are you half-giant?” Dexter asked, thinking how ironic it would be if he were considering the joke he made with his former employer about his first mate being a fire breathing half-giant.
“No, I’m human,” he said, scowling. “Just big.”
“I’ll say!” Dexter agreed, before turning to look at the others.
Bekka stepped forward. “What are they going to do to us?”
Rosh stared at her for a long moment. A slow grin crossed his face. Ignoring her question he asked her, “You’re a woman! Why’d you shave your head?”
“I find it’s better to not be judged by my appearance,” she responded.
Rosh nodded, “Good idea.” He shrugged apologetically. “The women’ll be raped, then killed. The men just killed. Don’t think we got anyone that likes boys here.”
“Why wait? Why not just be done with us on the ship?” Dexter asked.
“In case you had any surprises on board. Magic or something, ya know,” he explained.
“The guard on the other ship would not talk with us, how come you are?” Bekka asked him.
“I don’t get out much, too damn big for the ships, they says, so I’m stuck here,” he explained, sounding grateful for her question and her interest. “I’ve talked to everyone ‘round here, nothing else to do.”
“How much you make here, Rosh?” Dexter asked, a glimmer of an idea coming to him.
“Four gold a month, why?”
“You seem bored,” Dexter said, shrugging.
Rosh stared at him for a long minute, then nodded. “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not, what’s it to you?”
“Big strong man like you, I could use you,” Dexter said after a moment.
“Ha! I’m not into laying with men,” Rosh said, turning back to Bekka.
“That’s good, neither am I.”
Rosh returned his attention to him. “What you asking for then?”
“Like I said, I could use a strong man that knows his way around a ship and with a sword, my crew is a little short right now.”
Rosh chuckled. “Seems to me you’ve got too much crew since the only thing you’re Captaining is that there cage!”
“Aye, that’s the truth of it,” Dexter admitted, looking to Kragor and Jenna. They both returned his gaze and shook their heads. “But that’s where you come in.”
“You’re mad,” he said, shaking his head. “I got it good here, I ain’t letting you out.”
Dexter pushed himself up against the bars and spoke softly, “four gold a month… I’m willing to give you six percent of whatever our take is, how long would it take you to make that here?”
A crafty look passed over the man’s face as he considered the offer. His eyes narrowed and Dexter thought he saw his lips moving slightly. Was he counting? Dexter bit back his smile and made a mental note to invite Rosh to a friendly game of cards if things worked out well.
“And you’d be on a ship, traveling to different ports in the void, seeing new things and new people,” Dexter pressed.
“And women?” Rosh asked.
“Not like here, you want a woman you have to woo her on your own or buy her services,” he stated.
“Never could take something that wasn’t given freely. But you ain’t got no ship!”
“So let us out and help us get ours back!” Dexter said, letting some of his desperation bleed through. “The Voidhawk, my ship, is ready and waiting, we just need to get on it and we can be off and away! With your help we’ll have no trouble getting away.”
Rosh thought about it for a minute then shook his head. “You been caught once, you’ll just get caught again.”
“I got a plan for that too,” Dexter confided in him.
“You’re mad,” Rosh said again.
“Maybe a little,” Dexter admitted, “but that’s why it’ll work!”
Rosh thought about it and then shrugged. “Ah hell, I’m bored with this work. Six percent… what’s that work out to?”
“We make 100 gold, you get 6 pieces. We make 1000, your cut is 60. Depends on how good we do — all of us, even you,” Dexter’s explained. “You’ll be helping us then?”
Wooed by the promise of more gold than he’d ever had, Rosh nodded. “Aye, stand back,” he said, stepping closer to the door.
Dexter backed away and glanced at the others, who were just as wide eyed and disbelieving as he was. Bekka grinned while Jenna just stared in disbelief. Kragor clapped him on the back and Jodyn muttered something about Dexter’s ability to talk himself into, or out of, the jaws of a void dragon.
Rosh opened the doors of the makeshift cell and let them out. He drew the great sword off from his back to cut the ropes that bound their wrists, then shook Dexter’s hand. “Stay behind me,” he said, asserting himself.
Jenna regarded his sword and shook her head disapprovingly. Aside from her reaction, everyone did as he asked, letting him lead the way through the confusing tunnel of corridors. In almost no time they encountered two men turning a corner into their corridor.
“Roshelle, what are you-”
Rosh slammed the cross guard of his sword into the man’s face, then turned and drove his fist into the stomach of the other man, doubling him over. He brought the pommel of his sword down on the back of his head, dropping him to the ground.
“Roshelle?” Bekka whispered.
Rosh grunted. “Call me Rosh,” he said.
“Roshelle’s a girl’s name,” she said, smiling benignly and trying to indicate that she understood.
Rosh misunderstood her. He turned and glared, making her shrink back. “I’ll show you proof I ain’t no girl!”
Dexter laid his hand on his shoulder, having to reach up some to do so, and turned him away. “Rosh, she meant no harm.”
“Aye, I just meant I understood,” Bekka said, coming to her own defense. Rosh grunted and turned, heading off again. Bekka sent Dexter a grateful smile while Jenna rolled her eyes.
The next people they encountered were a couple of off duty pirates celebrating with a skin of ale. Not their first either, from the looks of things. One of them sat up straighter when Rosh stepped into the room and spoke up, “Hey, Rosh, was it your mother or father that was an ogre?”
The other one burst into drunken laughter. Roshelle ground his teeth together and turned to look at Dexter and the others. The man sat up a little when he noticed them. “What’s this? Why you moving prisoners? Thought you was too thick-skulled to be trusted with that?”
“Why ain’t they tied up?” The other man asked, taking notice too.
“They joined us,” Rosh lied, “I’m showing them around.”
“That don’t seem right to me, we ain’t letting no women round here ‘less they do the rounds, eh?”
Rosh moved closer to him as they talked and now was close enough to spring into action and plunge his sword into the pirate, silencing him. The other one sputtered and fell backwards out of his chair, trying to get away. Rosh left his sword quivering in the pirate’s chest and stepped on the leg of the one trying to escape, pinning him to the floor. He leaned down quickly as the pirate opened his mouth to cry out an alarm. With a powerful twist of his arms a sickening pop filled the room and the pirate’s body twitched and then lay still on the floor.
“Gods,” Dexter whispered, awed at the sudden and powerful violence the man was capable of.
Rosh glared at the man impaled on his sword. “I ain’t the son of no ogre,” he spat. He yanked his sword free of the wall and the pirate’s ribcage, sending his body to the ground and his soul to the underworld.
“Come on, we’re almost there,” Rosh said, turning and leading away again.
Dexter looked to the others, who mirrored his amazement and apprehension. He wondered just how smart it may have been to invite this brute of a man to join his crew. He knew he would deal with that later, if need be. For now they needed to escape first.
One hallway, a small open deck, and then another two rooms later and they were on the outer decking that skirted the outside of the ramshackle base. Rosh turned to the right there sat the Voidhawk with half a dozen men unloading the cargo from it and carrying it into the base. Docked next to it was the Maiden’s Bane, the only ship they knew of that could give them a serious chase.
“What’s your plan?” Kragor asked.
Dexter grinned, wondering how much time they had before they were discovered. Things had gone remarkably smooth for them so far. “Sabotage, my friend. Just make sure you pick me up.”
“Pick you up?” Kragor asked, confused.
“Keep going, Rosh, get to my ship and cast off, Kragor’s in charge of it till I get back,” Dexter said, stepping to the side and letting the others pass him.
“What madness is this?” Jenna asked, hesitating.
“Go,” he ordered, not having time to explain it. Frustrated, she followed after Kragor.
“He’s mad and daft both, lass,” Kragor said for the benefit of Jenna. “I’m just not sure which one is worse in him.”
Dexter followed a ladder that led up to one of the base’s existing bombards and frowned when he saw no barrels of powder. Instead it was gathered in bags. He picked up a heavy sack in each hand and hoisted them, with considerable effort, so each one rested on a shoulder. This served to hide his face from anyone not directly in front of him.
He managed to get back down the ladder without falling and then hurried over to the Maiden’s Bane. He walked up the ramp uncontested, and crossed directly to the door leading into the Bosun’s locker. In the middle of the room the main mast ran through the deck and to the cargo deck below. He used his teeth to tear a hole in one bag, spilling the fire powder out of it. He spat it out and dropped the bag, then tore a smaller hole in the second bag. He propped it on his shoulder and walked out, pausing to grab a sword and an unloaded pistol off the rack.
He walked quickly towards the stern, happy to see the two men on the forecastle were busy talking and not paying attention to him. The powder fell from the bag in a line connecting him to the first bag at the base of the main mast. A few moments later and he arrived at the mizzen mast, where the other bag of powder soon rested. He ducked through a door and stepped into the room containing the charts and the helm.
Dexter heard a commotion in the distance and cast a quick glance out the door. The fight for his ship was underway, he had to hurry. He grabbed as many of the charts as he could, rolling them up and shoving them into a leather case.
He knelt down beside the bag of powder and jammed the barrel of his pistol in through the hole he had made. Tipping the pistol up, he moved quickly to the middle of the Maiden’s Bane and prepared for his sabotage. He stopped when he heard a yell from above; he had been spotted.
An answering shout came from the gangplank that led up to the deck. Dexter spun and cursed. Escape towards the pirate base was not an option. He turned again, looking towards the open void. He glanced back and saw the pirate slowing as he approached. He could hear more pounding on the planks and rushing from the crew quarters below the bow.
Dexter knelt down and laid his pistol on the deck, then cocked the hammer back and pulled the trigger. The hammer descended and drove a spark from the flintlock into the barrel, which contained only some loosely packed powder. Rather than exploding behind wadding and driving a ball out the barrel, it flared hotly and shot fire out the front of it. The fire caught the trail of powder he had left earlier, sending a line of flame shooting in both directions.
Dexter turned and ran, leaping over the railing at the edge even as he heard the first crack of a shot. The bullet missed, slamming instead into the railing now below and behind him. A moment later the ship shuddered, rocked by the explosion. Less than three seconds after that a second explosion followed, shattering the base of the main mast and driving it at an angle through the roof of the ship. The mizzen mast fell inwards, towards the pirate base, and crashed into the decking surrounding the base, leading to the dock the Maiden’s Bane was moored at.
Dexter floated for a moment then plunged towards the ship’s gravity plane. He plummeted through it, then fought the vertigo of suddenly having his gravity reversed. He bobbed up and down in the plane, moving away from the ship with the inertia of his initial jump. Each time he crossed the plane there was an extra push away from the ship as well, which was how ships made it possible to keep small rocks and space debris from causing damage, by repelling them along their gravity plane. Dexter glanced back over his shoulder and saw one of the pirates on the forecastle gestured at him. Drevin stepped up to the rail and stared out at him, his face a mask of fury. He shouted orders for whoever was nearby to shoot him down and drew his own pistol, taking aim.
Dexter gulped and twisted his body, managing to flip so that his feet faced the ship and he lay prone. Drevin fired, his bullet ripping through Dexter’s pants and making him grimace in pain as it tore a bloody furrow in his outer thigh. Another man stepped up and fired as well, sending his slug soundly into Dexter’s bottom.
Salvation came in the form of the Voidhawk. With Bekka at the helm and the others manning the rigging they sailed into view and took time away from their guidance of the vessel to fire their re-acquired pistols at the pirates. The pirates ducked for cover, allowing the Voidhawk to sail up beside Dexter and for Rosh to toss a rope overboard for him.
On board his own ship again, Dexter limped behind cover and shouted orders to get them away as fast as possible. He heard a few more pistols fired, then nothing. He stuck his head back out and watched as they cleared the atmosphere of the pirate base, ending the transmission of sound. Cursing, he ducked low and remembered that while air and sound would not pass through the void, objects still would. Objects such as the slugs fired from pistols.
Or bombards. His mouth went dry as he saw one of the bombards on the base being cranked around to point at them. He realized it was the one he had stolen the powder from, if only he’d thought to steal the rest of it.
“Hard to port and down!” Dexter yelped.
Kragor glanced at him, furry brows cocked in surprise. He relayed the specific orders to the crew to enact them without missing a beat. The massive ball of lead sailed barely over the Voidhawk’s decking. Ere it could be reloaded, they had put enough distance from the base to make the odds of a hit unlikely, at best.
Out of range of the bandits’ bombards, they felt only a moment of concern when other ships undocked and came after them. With the Maiden’s Bane crippled none of the others could match the speed of Voidhawk under full sail and in less than an hour they gave up the chase.
“You’d better get that looked at, captain,” Jenna said to him as he limped around on the deck inspecting the minimal damage done by the skirmish and escape.
Dexter shrugged. “I’m fine,” he muttered, worrying about their future now that they were safe.
“You’ve been shot in the arse,” she pointed out.
“I’m milking it.” He changed the subject, worrying about it would do him no good since Bekka, their healer, was manning the helm at a time when they needed every inch of distance they could get. “How are our stores?”
Jenna scowled at him, knowing he needed tending to, but decided to go along with him for the moment. “They got the bombards off, but we managed to keep a few barrels of the fire powder. All of our other stores remain, plus we can add a few things we took off the pirates we killed.”
“How many’s ‘a few’?” he asked. “And what ‘things’ did we inherit?”
“Four barrels,” she answered, “one more pistol, two short swords, four daggers, and a hatchet.”
Dexter nodded. “How’s Rosh?”
“He’s big,” Jenna said matter-of-factly
“I mean how’s he settling in?”
“Kragor took him below, beyond that I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Alright, if he needs anything, weapons or such, let him have it.” Dexter stopped his limping walk and put his hand against the deck railing to steady himself.
“Captain?” Jenna asked, concerned.
Dexter looked at her, surprised. “That’s the most you’ve called me captain since we’ve met,” he pointed out.
Jenna shrugged. “Maybe you’re earning it. I think you need to lay down though, you’re not looking good.”
“I got shot in the ass, how’m I suppose to look?”
Jenna hid her smile by glancing away, then turned back at him. “Alright, if you say so.”
“If I say wha-“
Jenna’s hand had swung around, the bag of coins she held in it connecting with the back and side of his head. Dexter’s words turned into an explosion of air as he collapsed heavily to the deck. “Sorry, Captain,” Jenna said softly.
She bent over him and put her hands under the arms of the unconscious man, dragging him along the deck and then down the stairs to her cabin. As soon as she saw Kragor and Rosh she called them over, making them help her carry him to his cabin.
“What happened?” Kragor demanded.
“He collapsed,” Jenna said, leaving out the part where she caused it.
“I’ll get Bekka!” Kragor said, turning to head up the passageway.
“No, we need the speed and distance, I’ll check him out first,” Jenna said.
“You’re a healer?” The dwarf asked suspiciously.
Jenna glared at the stumpy first mate. “I know enough, now quit wasting time!”
Grumbling under his breath about the flighty nature of elves, they dumped Dexter in his cabin on his bed. Jenna then shooed the other two out the door and shut it behind her. Sighing, she turned back around and stared at the prone form of the man.
“I’ve got you alone and in bed, now what?” She wondered aloud, albeit softly. She chuckled and moved to him, untying and lowering his breeches. She could only smile at what she knew would be his embarrassment if he knew what she was doing.
She admired the muscles of his legs and the apparent firmness of his butt, once she had wiped the blood free. His wound still bled, but given there was a lead bullet imbedded in his right cheek, it was understandable why. She was glad he was out cold because the pain of what she had to do would not be a pleasant thing to bear.
Several minutes later she held the slightly deformed shot up between her blood covered fingers and shook her head. It had gone in fairly deep, but luckily had not hit bone. He would be sore for a while, if he let it heal naturally, but he should make a full recovery she figured.
His pride, on the other hand, might take even longer to return to normal.