I'm torn between the immanent threats to Marmaduke and Winn Dixie. I decide Winn is in the worse trouble, sign to Tin Girl to back me up and attack her attackers, shooting the one with the bat.
You're trying to secure Winn's safety here, so let's see you SBF.
SEIZE SOMETHING VALUABLE BY FORCE To seize something valuable by force, exchange harm, but first roll+hard. On a 10+, choose 3. On a 7–9, choose 2. On a miss, choose 1: • You inflict terrible harm (+1harm). • You suffer little harm (-1harm). • You take definite and undeniable control of it. • It’s safe, secure, and undamaged in the fighting.
I risk a peek over the h-bike I'm hiding behind. I heed Dog's shout, we can't lose the bikes. August would never forgive me if her bike.. what's the word? No, sink. If her bike sinks under the blood ocean. Ugh, the smell. I scrunch my nose from distaste.
And that's how that batboy sees me as I leap (with no small amount of grace) over the bike, knife bared, teeth showing. I relish the look on his face.
"I believed you, and it lost me my fingers, it lost me Glover, and it lost me my sister Lassie. I need you to believe me this time, Captain. I have a plan. I just need a moment with you, and we don't have much time left."
I gesture him into his cabin.
How can I get Portar to precede me into the cabin?
Oh my, Valentine. I do think that's some single combat there!
When you do single combat with someone, no quarters, exchange harm, but first roll+hard. On a 10+, both. On a 7–9, choose 1. On a miss, your opponent chooses 1 against you: • you inflict terrible harm (+1harm) • you suffer little harm (-1harm)
After you exchange harm, both of you choose. Commit without knowing the other’s choice. If both of you prefer to end the fight now, it ends. If both of you prefer to fight on, it continues, and you must make the move again. If one of you prefers to end the fight, though, and the other to fight on, then the former must either flee or else submit to the latter‘s mercy.
Quarters are too close for the shotgun, so I wade in with my sidearm [magnum (3-harm close reload loud)] in one hand and machete ready to draw if I run out of ammo and don't have time to reload. Not holding back, but not seeing red either, I'm not looking for collateral damage.
With Dog's yells to push the boaters back, the fight intensifies. Guns report in the metal box, deafening, gun smoke and the smell of blood and sweat overpowers the grease and rust of this place.
Dog hacks and shoots a path in front of the bikes, while Valentine eviscerates the bat-wielding fool who thought he could hurt zir. Bon covers poor Winn Dixie with her own body. As your Angel's about to take a hatchet to her back, SeaTac shoots the guy in the side of the head, he drops right beside you, Bon. You see the life drain out of his blood-shot eyes.
The Arrows clear the hold, with a few Boaters retreating to the next deck, running from the fight, fearful of the terror that is SeaTac and Dog, both demons in this fight.
All four of your come out of this round of the fight without further Harm. There are another dozen up those stairs, and you don't hear Ace's gun anymore. Cujo's yells are shorter, broken up by gasps and grunts of effort. August is somewhere up there, too, probably.
If we're going up, then I'm in the lead, I think? It's close quarters, in these passages and whatever the Navy terms are... hatches, ladders, bulkheads. Soak me if I care to remember. I reload the Magnum, then lead the charge. I can take a dozen. Done it before.
I shoot the one down and cover Winn as best I can before realizing I have bit off more than I am capable of handling... again, a theme with me today. A boom sounds through the hold and the man I thought would be my death instead succumbs to Seatac's persuasion. I can spare him no pity, instead turning from the now abandoned mechanism and checking Winn to see how badly she is hurt. If the stoppage of breath is not immanent, or blood loss is not threatening, I will arrange her as securely as I can, hidden, then follow the lead up the ramp.
I keep going. I could do this all day, right? I haven't heard Ace's gun in too long and Cujo, I rarely hear her run out of steam, but she ain't had enough time to recover from her mad times. I chase after boatmen with SeaTac, eyes wary for August. Maybe I'll smell her skin in all this bloody mist and soup but I'm counting on my eyes and ears.
Wish I could make everybody I care for as strong as me but it don't work like that. So I got to make our enemies scared I might catch up to 'em. Write my reputation in bodies so's anyone can read, hope the next guy is more literate than the first.
I wipe my blade, decisively, one-two, on the fool's jacket. My mouth is set in a line; not pocket of smiles to deal out right now as I watch Bon.
I am not going to sleep well tonight. Too much death abounds, and no time to consider that which is most important. There's a duel on today, isn't there? "I much prefer my violence ritualized and with seatbelts," I grump-mutter. I don't expect anyone to hear, but it feels better to speak it than to bury it.
I disappear my knife and rise to follow. I stride over bodies, not looking at faces.
"Tell your sisters to stop fighting, August!" Portar says, still clinging to the thought that he can have his cake and eat it, too. "My people are dying! It's all falling apart!"
Assure him that the fighting is over, and he'll trust you. Otherwise, he'll throw you in the room and lock you away so he can focus on killing the invaders.
"It'll stop soon, Captain, I promise," I say to Portar in a clear, soothing voice. I let the talk of betrayals subside in my throat. "We both want your people to live, don't we? Go on back, get on the intercom. Tell your folks to cease fire, tell my sisters to parley. They'll listen."
I don't tell him to ask them, you see. I want him to think he's still in control. So I tell him to tell them to parley. It doesn't matter. Dog will blood him in the end.
You all charge up the stairs to the deck where another dozen or so boaters are fighting with Ace and Cujo. You see Cujo has been cornered by a pair of big men with hooks. She's bleeding from a half dozen cuts, she has a bloody dagger in her left hand (she's a rightie). She's standing over Ace, who is prone, looks unconscious.
Over the loudspeaker, you hear a man's voice.
August,
Portar grabs the mic for the intercom and barks over the speakers...
All,
"Sisters of August! Stop fighting! We can parley!" Captain Portar says with a bit of desperation. "Cease fire! Stand down!"
The boaters look around, a little confused at the order, but they step back, eyes wary.
Dog, this could blow up again if you push it. You don't see August yet, she could be a hostage, that guy didn't say.
"Hold tight, Captain, I'll find someone to negotiate with you," I say.
I shut the door of Portar's cabin and then twist his own key into the lock with a decisive gesture. I tick it back in my pocket and start pulling out all the wires leading into the captain's quarters. One of them has got to be the one that goes to the intercom.
I watch the boatmen on the surface carefully, stand up more straight. My gun goes back in the holster. We'll catch our breath, see if this isn't a trap.
"Let her.." I point at Bon, "..through to them." I point at Cujo and Ace. "And someone take me to this parley."
Thumbs in my pockets, I wait, blade still in my hand should someone still feel hot-throated enough to jump me or mine.
I holster my gun immediately, even as Dog is doing so. Once she issues her demand I touch her bloody elbow in approval and step forward slowly, hands open in front of me.
I don't put away my sidearm, but I hold it down by my leg. There's a dozen here, they seem to be standing by on orders, at the moment. I sidle up to Dog and talk low. "Whyn't you leave someone in charge here? Maybe Belka? She looks most on point. I think you and me can handle a parlay. In case you don't know, I'm a diplomat now. Maybe Val comes with us, maybe ze helps Bon."
I nod to SeaTac, grin a little when he talks about his new job title. "Belka, you keep things tight and dry up here when I go in an' parley with SeaTac here."
With a glance to Valentine, I remember I don't tell zir what to do. Looks like ze's gonna stick with Bon maybe, I give zir a quiet nod 'cause I approve. Shift my shoulders so I can drop on anyone tries to stop zir from following Bon.
The remaining boaters, sweaty in their heavy gear, beaten and bloodied, seem to be done with this fight as long as they keep their lives.
Bon, nobody gets in your way as you approach Ace. Cujo meets your eyes, steps out of your way. Ace is in bad shape, head wound got her, she's bleeding even still.
August, you come down the hall to find Dog and the Arrows, SeaTac and Valentine.
Who is heading to talk terms with Portar, and what are you offering? What are you demanding?
I nod to Cujo, touch her arm too, squeeze it, as I pass her to kneel next to Ace. I suck a breath through my teeth. Head wounds are bad. I reach for the kit. Proceedures adn lists coming to mind instantly. Staunching blood loss first, then checking her pupils. Was it blunt or is it a cut or a gunshot?
There is a puncture hole at the back of her neck, not too deep, but the rest of it looks like blunt force trauma, like she was slammed into a wall or the deck, maybe kicked or stomped, too.
"How now, my precious?" I say softly, wiping away some blood from her face. "Do not compel me to add to my list today. You know how I feel about that."
Stopping the blood then, and treating her as necessary. Are we at death's door here?
Dog is the lead here, but I'm the bullet. I lead the way, following whatever scumbag winds up leading us, checking passageways and attempting to hold Dog back until I've cleared them for further progress. Don't know if she'll cooperate, but I try.
Seems I don't have to go looking after all. I nod to SeaTac, slide my bad hand around Dog's back.
"I locked the Captain in there," I say quietly, pointing. "Two civilians, albeit civilians with guns, behind that door," I point again. "He had a buddy boy, Halcyon, that I sent away. Not sure if you killed him. That way." A third gesture. I look SeaTac in the eyes, making clear that I'm speaking instead of signing for his benefit.
"I think I broke his access to the intercom. Seemed prudent."
I'm next to Bon, as a shadow, attentive yet not intrusive. This manner I am well-versed in. Unfortunately, she may ask for a scalpel instead of stew. "What would you have me do?" I murmur, not wanting to discourage her concentration.
Poor Ace. I hide my worry from the boaters, who I have half an eye on, in case parley fails.
Takes me a sec to get what SeaTac is doin', the first time he holds an arm across and I lean in to see where he's lookin', though, I get it. Must be a Unit thing. I trust SeaTac, let him do his thing.
I put a hand on August's shoulder when she catches up to us, let my side fit up against her softly and cock my head to listen. Locked the captain in? I snort and nod, August does stuff I find funny even in a place like this. "Let's get in, then."
Now, from parley, I think what we want is this boat dumps its weapons and takes to shore somewhere, empties itself and lets us break it up. No more of this splashing sea-faring rot.
We'll see if Cap'n Portar can offer anything makes me feel more generous, but I keep thinking about Watauga calling SafeCo a soaked place and then follow that thought with what happened to the lighthouse. It's an ugly thought.
SeaTac opens the door to find Captain Porter inside. He's got a machine gun in his hands, clean and oiled, ready to fire, but it's aimed at the deck. He looks past you, SeaTac, for August. He's very aware this is an awful deal for him and his.
"Where's? Oh, there you are." Portar says when August comes through the door. "Let's parley. We, ah, we can end this, come to terms." He swallows, mouth dry, "None of you can make this ship work. You killed my best engineers in the lower decks. But I can get us to shore."
"Put the gun down, Portar, and we'll consider letting you anywhere near the controls," I say calmly. "You don't know how quickly SeaTac or Dog can put a bullet into you. Regardless, you're not the one who'll be setting the terms in the discussion."
"No!" Portar bellows, sweat dripping down his cheeks. He brings the gun up a bit high, knee level to Dog and SeaTac. "We parley, like you rotting said! Why are you even here? To avenge a whoremaster? Because you stuck your nose in our raid on the lighthouse?"
Somebody gotta control that gun, and I don't nominate Portar for the job. I look to SeaTac, shift a little to give him room and stay between August and this gun. I give Portar a level stare. "Got my own engineer, and all our bikes. Don't need you to see the shore again."
I'm not going to waste any time on words. It's time for this soaker to understand who holds the power in this "parley". A breath out, a breath in while Dog talks, then on the following exhale I launch myself across the space that separates me from the captain and lash out with my foot to knock the gun out of his hands, ready to follow and secure it.
Well, that's a Seize by Force if I've ever heard it. You'll swap some damage (and you're not using that nice gun, bee tee dubs), so let's see those dice, man.
I'm already kicking the barrel away from the three of us, toward the bulkhead, as he brings it up and starts to squeeze the trigger. Following through, I come in close and deliver a punch to the throat that could crush his larynx if I misjudge, then while he's stunned and gasping for breath, I twist the weapon out of his hands.
I flip on the safety and toss it to Dog. "It's gonna be a little hard for you to parley if I have to do that again, Captain. Let's start over. Dog, what is it we want, again?"
I contemplate for a fleeting moment Valentine’s hands in this butcher’s business. All the same I am glad she is here.
“Simply hold as I say and hand me what I ask for, my friend.”
I tense as the small instrument that I’m passing over the skull beeps. Ace bleeds inside her head. It is mildly fortunate that it seems the only one.
“Hold her head still.” I say retrieving the small sharp scalpel to cut away a patch of skin over the site. Then it’s the palm sized powered drill with its mysterious bit, set for the skull thickness of a woman Ace’s size. My hand shakes as I drill, then remove the plug and let the blood drain down the side of her head while the coagulant and blood replacer do their work on the vessel.
While Dog replies, I start rifling through Portar's stuff, breaking and throwing things on the floor if they aren't useful; piling anything helpful or valuable on the bed. I'm singing a little rhyme half beneath my breath.
"Baby there's a shark in the water There's something underneath my bed Oh, please believe, I said"
I don't look at Portar. There's more than one way to make someone feel meaningless and small.
I catch the gun and double-check the safety out of habit, then hold it at my side.
Looking down my nose, I kinda wait and see if Portar dies from that punch for a breath. That is some damn fine control from SeaTac. "You surrender. We land the boat. It empties. We break the boat. You say no I'm gonna kill you, then find someone who says yes."
Portar drops to a knee, choking for a bit before he's able to recover. He ignores August rifling through his stuff, not making eye contact with either of you, Dog and SeaTac. "I'll land the rotting boat." His shoulders are slumped, defeated.
After draining her and working the coag, Ace's color slowly returns. She'll live.
Valentine, as you're holding Ace's head for Bon, some of her blood gets on your clothes. What's ruined? Cujo squeezes your shoulder in silent thanks, Valentine. She walks over to take a knee by you, Bon. When you look up at her, she gently takes hold of the back of your head, presses her forehead to yours, her eyes full of gratitude.
You both notice the Boaters are watching this. Some of them, moments ago ready to kill and maim, now look on in awe. They've never seen an act of compassion like this. They scarcely recognize what's going on.
I reach out and grab his chin, force him to meet my eyes. "This is what will happen. You will walk to the bridge, slowly, with multiple guns pointed at your back. You will instruct whoever you left at the controls to land the boat, in simple words, while you continue to have guns pointed at you. I don't believe you're the only person left alive that can drive the boat. The others were below-decks, not anywhere near the bridge. Move. Now."
"Bon, you are an artist. All I do is serve drinks and smiles and a piece of time to forget; you serve life." My eyes are huge on her. The boaters can go soak themselves.
Ruined? What value is a mere pair of good warm pants that now have the look of Aunt Flo's abattoir? Somehow I'm a little skittish to go back to Pike's for more clothing, though. Can't imagine why.
I butt my head to Cujo's gratitude, not wanting to spread more human red.
::August, we'll have more time for that soon. I want you to stick with me.:: I sign as Portar gets perp-walked up to the bridge. Too many times I've lost sight of her and she's gone off alone and injured. I wait for her to follow with me, hand extended. If she does I admire some of her haul, might even carry it for her. If not I get someone to back her up. No more Arrows alone today.
For the trip to shore I'm going to assign Tin-Girl to back up SeaTac on the bridge while I check on Arrows and tell 'em how things are at the moment. She'll be good to spot any weird goings-on with the equipment and how it's bein' used.
Get boat people disarmed, get their shit in the hold with our bikes. Give our injured Arrows space to rest in and put Bon in charge of that. Put the rest on watch.
I could 'bout kiss Bon, looking at Ace pullin' through and Winn-Dixie downstairs. I got praise for lots of other Arrows today, firm and true. I know we lost Marmaduke, but we held it together and it could'a been worse.
When I don't gotta be all orders I catch up a little with August while keepin' my own watch on. ::You amaze me. This place...it's all soaked up. For a week?:: I shake my head. "Almost over."
Portar continues sweating as he pilots the boat. Tin-Girl has her little pig-sticker out and she keeps walking over to different consoles, fiddling with this and that. She doesn't ask questions, but she seems to be figuring out what does what.
"Well, this is a fine piece of work. It'll be a shame to blow it to the bottom of the sea, doncha think, SeaTac?" She's ignoring Portar, glances back at you.
Outside, of course, you see the waves rise and fall, and the shore is looming nearer.
"No. Not a shame. In anyone's hands, this is a threat that can't be allowed. Don't care if I trust whoever takes it now, too much mobility, too much potential to flood the world we got." I can understand the appreciation for what they've done, but this thing is pure trouble.
I raise one of my bloody hands to Cujo’s shoulder as I meet her eyes. It seems as if my own feelings are raw and obvious. The contact helps to still the shaking. Between the battle and the nerves of emergency treatment, I am feeling exhausted. I close my eyes a moment and nod, wordless, feeling my forehead press against hers, a long breath shuddering out of me. I would do the same for any of them.
We let go and I look back at Valentine, give her a small smile. “I am only thankful that I was equal to the crisis this time. And I do not know that I would have been without you.” I reach up and pull at my hair, half out of its knot since it was grabbed by the boater who nearly killed me, and let the rest of it down, loose, straight and straggly from being partially soaked in blood.
I look tiredly up at the boaters who watch us. How many of them sick or wounded. How many dead? And what will become of them?
When Dog comes through with orders I call for us to put all the wounded together. Boater and Arrow alike. I ask for what supplies they have and at least two of them… perhaps the women I saw earlier, to help me triage and care for the injured.
I shake Dog off at first, sorta fixated on getting some sort of keepsake from the wreckage of this awful week. But it's hard to stay fixated when everyone else leaves and she's just there, holding her hand out.
::I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again,:: I say. I mean, I knew I would, in my gut. But my gut gets me in dumb places sometimes.
I get up and step behind Dog, on tip toes. My neck over her shoulder, my arms tight over her belly. Feeling that wiry strength beneath my arms. Then my good hand is roving, making sure she hasn't gotten herself too tore up finding me.
Afterward, I'm pulling away, from her, good hand going for the one of hers not holding an MG. There's too much to do.
When we're on the brig and we're back near a working intercom. I can't help but go to it. I know that Arrows and boaters both will hear me.
My eyes are on Portar, but my mouth is pressed against the microphone.
"Before the waters, before the breaking, before the now," I start. But then my voice breaks.
This isn't the time for an old story. This is the time for a new one.
"After the waters, after the breaking, in the now," I start over, "There was a red wave."
I tell them about a woman, young no longer, who was lost. But called out to those who loved her, in the dark calm of dawn beside the deep red sea. And how redemption comes on the waves, despite it all, despite everything.
"When we reach shore," I say into the microphone, "Look me in the eye. Say my name. And tell me you seek succor. And we will lead you to safety."
I let my fingers off the button for the intercom. Let it buzz in my absence. Then step away.
Tin-Girl looks over at you for a moment, then squats down to follow a line of wires from some housing, "I wonder if anyone says that about our h-bikes?" She glances up again, "Do you think we're a threat like that, SeaTac?" She grins, "Do you think Laika's a threat like that?"
August, Why don't you roll Artful & Gracious for that story?
With another, I might feign modesty. So many people, oneself included, will spin stories of flattery and competence to curry favor or soothe an ego. With Bon, there's no feigning. She's the genuine article, as is my faint flush at the praise. I keep my hands on Ace, holding on to somone. "It is my pleasure to play even a small role in your art, Bon. But next time, let's have a different crisis?" A wan version of smile number three.
I start and look at the speaker when I hear August's voice, sweeter than a warm towel. "August," I whisper. "Lead me to safety."
I smile back, more fully this time, to see Valentine blush. “Agreed. I shall hand pick only the most pleasent of crises from now on.”
August’s voice comes over the speaker and I see its effect on Valentine even as my own heart turns over.
My head drops. I sigh quietly. My hand closes around the severed digits in their wrapping. Colder would be better but I have perhaps two days to attempt to reattach them, and sooner rather than later. Even then I don’t know if I can return all of their old function to the woman…
I turn to organizing the wounded. Despite my exhaustion, work is the best remedy for avoiding thought.
::I believed we would. It was hard.:: I hold August's arms against me gently when she holds me, just a moment. Rest my head on hers.
I've made it through all this fighting okay, she finds some bruises on me that make me breathe out in small hurt. My neck is still ripped on from that forest trip, when August touches it I stiffen. She wasn't there. "That's old. I'm okay."
I take her hand light and walk with her, getting things done, but feeling that comfort.
August tells us all a story over that intercom, it's generous but it also feels like something we all need, her first. I missed her stories.
I pause before answering Tin Girl, listening to August's voice fill the nooks and crannies and hearts. "Reckon you all are a threat, Tin Girl. So am I. It's about scale. With this rifle, I can kill a man from a mile way. This thing? This thing can kill a hold, and from farther. And with no way to respond." I shrug. "Besides, you, Laika, Dog? I trust you."
That gets a grin from Tin-Girl, a knowing little grin like you answered something other than what you said. "Not Chance, though. Don't trust her. She's a thiefy thief. Or Belka. She's a lying horndog. Or August, because she'll wrap you round her fingers. Wait. Well. No." She pulls a screwdriver from one of the pockets on her cargo pants and starts fiddling with a gauge to pry it off the console where she's standing. "Zeus? She's old, she'll forget you. Heh. Heh... heh." She trails off, words less important than the gauge and the wires behind.
Portar chances a look over at you, sort of a "what the hell is wrong with that one?"
She looks up at you again, "Soak me, SeaTac, Balls would drop a load to look at most of this stuff. If Dog gives me enough time, we could score big big off this. She won't, though. It's do it and get it done, and I miss stuff when I hurry." She peers at Portar for a moment, then back to you, "Pretty sure I've figured out how this boat goes. If you wanna bullet tubby over there, you can."
Portar's eyes widen, but he tries to pretend that's just some joke. He's probably preparing some reasons to offer for you not to do that.
What do you do?
August,
Didn't say earlier, but you snag three barter out of Captain Portar's locker and shit. What's the most surprising thing you find in there?
Dog and August,
Grunge comes up her rifle slung over her shoulder. "Hey Dog, sorry to interrupt," she doesn't sound very sorry, but she said the words. "Bon's having us move the hurt Arrows over by the Boaters. Almost done. I'm gonna go check the rest of the boat, make sure we got 'em all corralled. You need anything?"
August, she's totally interrupting you. You know this. You've seen it before.
My sidearm is already in my hand, and there's no way this red-soaked idiot is stepping off this boat. August might wish she could be here to see it, but then there would be talking, and talking adds variables, messiness.
Most interesting thing I found in Portar's belongings? An old book, carefully wrapped up in plastic. Words highlighted and underlined. Worn leather cover, embossed with a cross. I can't read the words, but I've heard of these books before.
The gunshot punctuates the space between Grunge's question and my answer.
Grunge asks me for something to hop to. Tryna' impress me, which doesn't hurt. Then the gun shot goes off and I tense a moment, wait for more, hand goin' to my hip and leanin' forward to spring. No more. I think I know why.
"When you're done with that, ask Tin-Girl how long she thinks we got on the red left. We'll need people to keep an eye on the boaters as they leave for shore."
Portar realizes too late that it's over. He tries to say something, anything, but the bullet takes him first. He falls to the deck, dead before he hits.
Tin-Girl blinks with the shot, tenses a little, but doesn't scream or anything. She looks over at the body lying there, relaxes, then walks over to the wheel, "Nice, ah, nice work." She says it like she's cool. She's a little surprised you did it.
Bon and Valentine, Yeah, you heard that shot, too.
Like a broken glass in the middle of a quiet dinner. I look sharp to see what I can see, tensed to react, with steel, if needed. To stand with Bon and Ace if needed.
I pause at the sound, going still in the middle of applying makeshift bandages. I look at the boaters around me and wonder if it was Dog or Seatac before deciding that I do not wish to know and returning to my efforts.
I'm at my post, watching the prow cut through the bloody sea. Thinking about something. Been alone a long time. Feel like that's less true, now, what with Joey and this operation. That comes with risk, weakness, variables.
With the rush over, I need to see August, make sure she's still in three pieces.
I'm sure I look the rube, agog at being in the belly of the Leviathan. Hard to believe it's still a real thing. I want to know what their kitchen looks like, and why they burned the Harbor, and what they had against its former master. If their captain is dead, I don't know who would speak to me.
My father used make a joke about going to see the submarine races, and I wonder at the majesty of seeing this ship in full daylight. Probably not the same spectacle.
When Valentine finds me, I take zir to the prow. One feeling I'll take away from the Leviathan in my short-yet-long time upon it that feeling of homecoming when they took me to their red-stained port. That's something Valentine should experience.
I'll hold zir hand as we reach the burnt harbor. It's a charred, awful place to begin our way home, but it's ours.
I worry about the spray of water on my face. What an awful way to go. To drown. I force my gaze away from the waves. The sight of the charred harbor, burned teeth from a massive bloody jaw, makes a body feel small and ephemeral.
I discard several trite, meaningless bits of small talk as the boat moves closer to shore, to land. Our silence is comfortable. There's no need to fill it with phrases of low import, or half-flirting patter.
I kneel in the makeshift infirmary and morgue taking the breather to stand the quiet vigil for Marmaduke. I brush back her hair thinking about how terribly young she looks in the dim flickering light of the hold. I look across the isle to a boater girl, equally young, equally dead, having passed only moments ago. I must ask the rest of them for her name. My list has grown. I close my eyes and think hard about the feel of my body pressed against August's when I saw her again, then about the look of August and Dog together and a murky discontent that is not mere envy wells up within me.
Was it all worth it? I want to say it was, desperately, but can I say it the face of these blank, dead eyes? It was. I has to be. But at such a cost.
I wipe my eyes.
My legs sting and throb. I get to my feet again and back to helping those who still breathe.
Propped up against a stretch of wall that's the bridge on the inside, I look out over the sea and it chills the warm satisfaction I feel at what we've done. Lot of hurt gathered up in my people, but so much more coulda gone wrong. Without SeaTac we woulda been running scared, without Bon we woulda lost more Arrows, without Valentine we mighta lost bikes, and without August the fighting mighta lasted much too long. We're almost home.
I get back to moving, walking the deck and being there for people. We got to keep making this worth it. I can't hold still from thinkin'. Who's gonna need what, and how I can use this to get it. I said we break the boat but this is a whole bloody soaking lot of scav, too much even for us to tear it up ourselves, even if you give us days. Gotta decide about that.
I'm hungry and thirsty, but I won't dip into boater supplies, and I'll probably puke if I eat much right now.
We're gonna have to figure out who rides Marmaduke home, too.
"I'll be fine," I say absent-mindedly, as I watch the coast growing larger. "Eventually. I always am." There's never enough time to not be fine.
"Thanks for coming. When I called you. Do the same, and I'll be there. I promise." I pull Val close, throw an arm over zir shoulder. "For now though, let's just watch home get closer."
Comments
I'm torn between the immanent threats to Marmaduke and Winn Dixie. I decide Winn is in the worse trouble, sign to Tin Girl to back me up and attack her attackers, shooting the one with the bat.
Bon,
You're trying to secure Winn's safety here, so let's see you SBF.
SEIZE SOMETHING VALUABLE BY FORCE
To seize something valuable by force, exchange harm, but first roll+hard. On a 10+, choose 3. On a 7–9, choose 2. On a miss, choose 1:
• You inflict terrible harm (+1harm).
• You suffer little harm (-1harm).
• You take definite and undeniable control of it.
• It’s safe, secure, and undamaged in the fighting.
I risk a peek over the h-bike I'm hiding behind. I heed Dog's shout, we can't lose the bikes. August would never forgive me if her bike.. what's the word? No, sink. If her bike sinks under the blood ocean. Ugh, the smell. I scrunch my nose from distaste.
And that's how that batboy sees me as I leap (with no small amount of grace) over the bike, knife bared, teeth showing. I relish the look on his face.
"I believed you, and it lost me my fingers, it lost me Glover, and it lost me my sister Lassie. I need you to believe me this time, Captain. I have a plan. I just need a moment with you, and we don't have much time left."
I gesture him into his cabin.
How can I get Portar to precede me into the cabin?
(Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 6, 1. Total: 7)
2xp
Valentine,
Oh my, Valentine. I do think that's some single combat there!
When you do single combat with someone, no quarters, exchange harm, but first roll+hard. On a 10+, both. On a 7–9, choose 1. On a miss, your opponent chooses 1 against you:
• you inflict terrible harm (+1harm)
• you suffer little harm (-1harm)
After you exchange harm, both of you choose. Commit without knowing the
other’s choice. If both of you prefer to end the fight now, it ends. If both of you
prefer to fight on, it continues, and you must make the move again. If one of you
prefers to end the fight, though, and the other to fight on, then the former must
either flee or else submit to the latter‘s mercy.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 5. Total: 12)
Definite control
Winn is safe and secure.
Quarters are too close for the shotgun, so I wade in with my sidearm [magnum (3-harm close reload loud)] in one hand and machete ready to draw if I run out of ammo and don't have time to reload. Not holding back, but not seeing red either, I'm not looking for collateral damage.
Bon, Dog, SeaTac, and Valentine,
With Dog's yells to push the boaters back, the fight intensifies. Guns report in the metal box, deafening, gun smoke and the smell of blood and sweat overpowers the grease and rust of this place.
Dog hacks and shoots a path in front of the bikes, while Valentine eviscerates the bat-wielding fool who thought he could hurt zir. Bon covers poor Winn Dixie with her own body. As your Angel's about to take a hatchet to her back, SeaTac shoots the guy in the side of the head, he drops right beside you, Bon. You see the life drain out of his blood-shot eyes.
The Arrows clear the hold, with a few Boaters retreating to the next deck, running from the fight, fearful of the terror that is SeaTac and Dog, both demons in this fight.
All four of your come out of this round of the fight without further Harm. There are another dozen up those stairs, and you don't hear Ace's gun anymore. Cujo's yells are shorter, broken up by gasps and grunts of effort. August is somewhere up there, too, probably.
What do you do?
If we're going up, then I'm in the lead, I think? It's close quarters, in these passages and whatever the Navy terms are... hatches, ladders, bulkheads. Soak me if I care to remember. I reload the Magnum, then lead the charge. I can take a dozen. Done it before.
I shoot the one down and cover Winn as best I can before realizing I have bit off more than I am capable of handling... again, a theme with me today. A boom sounds through the hold and the man I thought would be my death instead succumbs to Seatac's persuasion. I can spare him no pity, instead turning from the now abandoned mechanism and checking Winn to see how badly she is hurt. If the stoppage of breath is not immanent, or blood loss is not threatening, I will arrange her as securely as I can, hidden, then follow the lead up the ramp.
I keep going. I could do this all day, right? I haven't heard Ace's gun in too long and Cujo, I rarely hear her run out of steam, but she ain't had enough time to recover from her mad times. I chase after boatmen with SeaTac, eyes wary for August. Maybe I'll smell her skin in all this bloody mist and soup but I'm counting on my eyes and ears.
Wish I could make everybody I care for as strong as me but it don't work like that. So I got to make our enemies scared I might catch up to 'em. Write my reputation in bodies so's anyone can read, hope the next guy is more literate than the first.
I wipe my blade, decisively, one-two, on the fool's jacket. My mouth is set in a line; not pocket of smiles to deal out right now as I watch Bon.
I am not going to sleep well tonight. Too much death abounds, and no time to consider that which is most important. There's a duel on today, isn't there? "I much prefer my violence ritualized and with seatbelts," I grump-mutter. I don't expect anyone to hear, but it feels better to speak it than to bury it.
I disappear my knife and rise to follow. I stride over bodies, not looking at faces.
August,
"Tell your sisters to stop fighting, August!" Portar says, still clinging to the thought that he can have his cake and eat it, too. "My people are dying! It's all falling apart!"
Assure him that the fighting is over, and he'll trust you. Otherwise, he'll throw you in the room and lock you away so he can focus on killing the invaders.
"It'll stop soon, Captain, I promise," I say to Portar in a clear, soothing voice. I let the talk of betrayals subside in my throat. "We both want your people to live, don't we? Go on back, get on the intercom. Tell your folks to cease fire, tell my sisters to parley. They'll listen."
I don't tell him to ask them, you see. I want him to think he's still in control. So I tell him to tell them to parley. It doesn't matter. Dog will blood him in the end.
Bon, Dog, SeaTac, and Valentine,
You all charge up the stairs to the deck where another dozen or so boaters are fighting with Ace and Cujo. You see Cujo has been cornered by a pair of big men with hooks. She's bleeding from a half dozen cuts, she has a bloody dagger in her left hand (she's a rightie). She's standing over Ace, who is prone, looks unconscious.
Over the loudspeaker, you hear a man's voice.
August,
Portar grabs the mic for the intercom and barks over the speakers...
All,
"Sisters of August! Stop fighting! We can parley!" Captain Portar says with a bit of desperation. "Cease fire! Stand down!"
The boaters look around, a little confused at the order, but they step back, eyes wary.
Dog, this could blow up again if you push it. You don't see August yet, she could be a hostage, that guy didn't say.
What do you do?
"Hold tight, Captain, I'll find someone to negotiate with you," I say.
I shut the door of Portar's cabin and then twist his own key into the lock with a decisive gesture. I tick it back in my pocket and start pulling out all the wires leading into the captain's quarters. One of them has got to be the one that goes to the intercom.
I watch the boatmen on the surface carefully, stand up more straight. My gun goes back in the holster. We'll catch our breath, see if this isn't a trap.
"Let her.." I point at Bon, "..through to them." I point at Cujo and Ace. "And someone take me to this parley."
Thumbs in my pockets, I wait, blade still in my hand should someone still feel hot-throated enough to jump me or mine.
I cock an eyebrow at the speaker and pull a face. "Parley? Isn't tonguework August's domain?" I look past these boaters, seeking her face in vain.
I know Dog can lead, but can she parley? I adjust my footing in case a spark flies... or if Bon needs a set of precise hands.
I holster my gun immediately, even as Dog is doing so. Once she issues her demand I touch her bloody elbow in approval and step forward slowly, hands open in front of me.
I don't put away my sidearm, but I hold it down by my leg. There's a dozen here, they seem to be standing by on orders, at the moment. I sidle up to Dog and talk low. "Whyn't you leave someone in charge here? Maybe Belka? She looks most on point. I think you and me can handle a parlay. In case you don't know, I'm a diplomat now. Maybe Val comes with us, maybe ze helps Bon."
Tonguework. Well. Mine's in my cheek right now.
I nod to SeaTac, grin a little when he talks about his new job title. "Belka, you keep things tight and dry up here when I go in an' parley with SeaTac here."
With a glance to Valentine, I remember I don't tell zir what to do. Looks like ze's gonna stick with Bon maybe, I give zir a quiet nod 'cause I approve. Shift my shoulders so I can drop on anyone tries to stop zir from following Bon.
All,
The remaining boaters, sweaty in their heavy gear, beaten and bloodied, seem to be done with this fight as long as they keep their lives.
Bon, nobody gets in your way as you approach Ace. Cujo meets your eyes, steps out of your way. Ace is in bad shape, head wound got her, she's bleeding even still.
August, you come down the hall to find Dog and the Arrows, SeaTac and Valentine.
Who is heading to talk terms with Portar, and what are you offering? What are you demanding?
I nod to Cujo, touch her arm too, squeeze it, as I pass her to kneel next to Ace. I suck a breath through my teeth. Head wounds are bad. I reach for the kit. Proceedures adn lists coming to mind instantly. Staunching blood loss first, then checking her pupils. Was it blunt or is it a cut or a gunshot?
Bon,
There is a puncture hole at the back of her neck, not too deep, but the rest of it looks like blunt force trauma, like she was slammed into a wall or the deck, maybe kicked or stomped, too.
"How now, my precious?" I say softly, wiping away some blood from her face. "Do not compel me to add to my list today. You know how I feel about that."
Stopping the blood then, and treating her as necessary. Are we at death's door here?
Bon,
Yes, Bon. Ace is at 9:00 or past. If you fail to heal her, she will die.
Dog is the lead here, but I'm the bullet. I lead the way, following whatever scumbag winds up leading us, checking passageways and attempting to hold Dog back until I've cleared them for further progress. Don't know if she'll cooperate, but I try.
Seems I don't have to go looking after all. I nod to SeaTac, slide my bad hand around Dog's back.
"I locked the Captain in there," I say quietly, pointing. "Two civilians, albeit civilians with guns, behind that door," I point again. "He had a buddy boy, Halcyon, that I sent away. Not sure if you killed him. That way." A third gesture. I look SeaTac in the eyes, making clear that I'm speaking instead of signing for his benefit.
"I think I broke his access to the intercom. Seemed prudent."
I'm next to Bon, as a shadow, attentive yet not intrusive. This manner I am well-versed in. Unfortunately, she may ask for a scalpel instead of stew. "What would you have me do?" I murmur, not wanting to discourage her concentration.
Poor Ace. I hide my worry from the boaters, who I have half an eye on, in case parley fails.
Takes me a sec to get what SeaTac is doin', the first time he holds an arm across and I lean in to see where he's lookin', though, I get it. Must be a Unit thing. I trust SeaTac, let him do his thing.
I put a hand on August's shoulder when she catches up to us, let my side fit up against her softly and cock my head to listen. Locked the captain in? I snort and nod, August does stuff I find funny even in a place like this. "Let's get in, then."
Now, from parley, I think what we want is this boat dumps its weapons and takes to shore somewhere, empties itself and lets us break it up. No more of this splashing sea-faring rot.
We'll see if Cap'n Portar can offer anything makes me feel more generous, but I keep thinking about Watauga calling SafeCo a soaked place and then follow that thought with what happened to the lighthouse. It's an ugly thought.
August, Dog, and SeaTac,
SeaTac opens the door to find Captain Porter inside. He's got a machine gun in his hands, clean and oiled, ready to fire, but it's aimed at the deck. He looks past you, SeaTac, for August. He's very aware this is an awful deal for him and his.
"Where's? Oh, there you are." Portar says when August comes through the door. "Let's parley. We, ah, we can end this, come to terms." He swallows, mouth dry, "None of you can make this ship work. You killed my best engineers in the lower decks. But I can get us to shore."
"Put the gun down, Portar, and we'll consider letting you anywhere near the controls," I say calmly. "You don't know how quickly SeaTac or Dog can put a bullet into you. Regardless, you're not the one who'll be setting the terms in the discussion."
August, Dog, and SeaTac,
"No!" Portar bellows, sweat dripping down his cheeks. He brings the gun up a bit high, knee level to Dog and SeaTac. "We parley, like you rotting said! Why are you even here? To avenge a whoremaster? Because you stuck your nose in our raid on the lighthouse?"
Somebody gotta control that gun, and I don't nominate Portar for the job. I look to SeaTac, shift a little to give him room and stay between August and this gun. I give Portar a level stare. "Got my own engineer, and all our bikes. Don't need you to see the shore again."
I'm not going to waste any time on words. It's time for this soaker to understand who holds the power in this "parley". A breath out, a breath in while Dog talks, then on the following exhale I launch myself across the space that separates me from the captain and lash out with my foot to knock the gun out of his hands, ready to follow and secure it.
SeaTac,
Well, that's a Seize by Force if I've ever heard it. You'll swap some damage (and you're not using that nice gun, bee tee dubs), so let's see those dice, man.
Seize By Force
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 6. Total: 13)
I suffer little harm (-1harm).
I take definite and undeniable control of it.
It’s safe, secure, and undamaged in the fighting.
Also, I'm invoking Disciplined Engagement to do s-harm.
SeaTac,
That MG does 3-Harm, and with your armor and your... seizing, you are unscathed. Tell us, SeaTac, how do you disarm Captain Portar?
I'm already kicking the barrel away from the three of us, toward the bulkhead, as he brings it up and starts to squeeze the trigger. Following through, I come in close and deliver a punch to the throat that could crush his larynx if I misjudge, then while he's stunned and gasping for breath, I twist the weapon out of his hands.
I flip on the safety and toss it to Dog. "It's gonna be a little hard for you to parley if I have to do that again, Captain. Let's start over. Dog, what is it we want, again?"
I contemplate for a fleeting moment Valentine’s hands in this butcher’s business. All the same I am glad she is here.
“Simply hold as I say and hand me what I ask for, my friend.”
I tense as the small instrument that I’m passing over the skull beeps. Ace bleeds inside her head. It is mildly fortunate that it seems the only one.
“Hold her head still.” I say retrieving the small sharp scalpel to cut away a patch of skin over the site. Then it’s the palm sized powered drill with its mysterious bit, set for the skull thickness of a woman Ace’s size. My hand shakes as I drill, then remove the plug and let the blood drain down the side of her head while the coagulant and blood replacer do their work on the vessel.
I only hope it is not too late.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 5, 4. Total: 10)Learn craft and recover stock spent.
While Dog replies, I start rifling through Portar's stuff, breaking and throwing things on the floor if they aren't useful; piling anything helpful or valuable on the bed. I'm singing a little rhyme half beneath my breath.
"Baby there's a shark in the water
There's something underneath my bed
Oh, please believe, I said"
I don't look at Portar. There's more than one way to make someone feel meaningless and small.
I catch the gun and double-check the safety out of habit, then hold it at my side.
Looking down my nose, I kinda wait and see if Portar dies from that punch for a breath. That is some damn fine control from SeaTac. "You surrender. We land the boat. It empties. We break the boat. You say no I'm gonna kill you, then find someone who says yes."
Portar drops to a knee, choking for a bit before he's able to recover. He ignores August rifling through his stuff, not making eye contact with either of you, Dog and SeaTac. "I'll land the rotting boat." His shoulders are slumped, defeated.
What do you do?
Bon and Valentine,
After draining her and working the coag, Ace's color slowly returns. She'll live.
Valentine, as you're holding Ace's head for Bon, some of her blood gets on your clothes. What's ruined? Cujo squeezes your shoulder in silent thanks, Valentine. She walks over to take a knee by you, Bon. When you look up at her, she gently takes hold of the back of your head, presses her forehead to yours, her eyes full of gratitude.
You both notice the Boaters are watching this. Some of them, moments ago ready to kill and maim, now look on in awe. They've never seen an act of compassion like this. They scarcely recognize what's going on.
What do you do?
I reach out and grab his chin, force him to meet my eyes. "This is what will happen. You will walk to the bridge, slowly, with multiple guns pointed at your back. You will instruct whoever you left at the controls to land the boat, in simple words, while you continue to have guns pointed at you. I don't believe you're the only person left alive that can drive the boat. The others were below-decks, not anywhere near the bridge. Move. Now."
August, Dog, and SeaTac,
Captain Portar stands, follows the orders given by SeaTac and will pilot the boat to shore. What are you planning on doing during this trip?
"Bon, you are an artist. All I do is serve drinks and smiles and a piece of time to forget; you serve life." My eyes are huge on her. The boaters can go soak themselves.
Ruined? What value is a mere pair of good warm pants that now have the look of Aunt Flo's abattoir? Somehow I'm a little skittish to go back to Pike's for more clothing, though. Can't imagine why.
I butt my head to Cujo's gratitude, not wanting to spread more human red.
::August, we'll have more time for that soon. I want you to stick with me.:: I sign as Portar gets perp-walked up to the bridge. Too many times I've lost sight of her and she's gone off alone and injured. I wait for her to follow with me, hand extended. If she does I admire some of her haul, might even carry it for her. If not I get someone to back her up. No more Arrows alone today.
For the trip to shore I'm going to assign Tin-Girl to back up SeaTac on the bridge while I check on Arrows and tell 'em how things are at the moment. She'll be good to spot any weird goings-on with the equipment and how it's bein' used.
Get boat people disarmed, get their shit in the hold with our bikes. Give our injured Arrows space to rest in and put Bon in charge of that. Put the rest on watch.
I could 'bout kiss Bon, looking at Ace pullin' through and Winn-Dixie downstairs. I got praise for lots of other Arrows today, firm and true. I know we lost Marmaduke, but we held it together and it could'a been worse.
When I don't gotta be all orders I catch up a little with August while keepin' my own watch on. ::You amaze me. This place...it's all soaked up. For a week?:: I shake my head. "Almost over."
SeaTac,
Portar continues sweating as he pilots the boat. Tin-Girl has her little pig-sticker out and she keeps walking over to different consoles, fiddling with this and that. She doesn't ask questions, but she seems to be figuring out what does what.
"Well, this is a fine piece of work. It'll be a shame to blow it to the bottom of the sea, doncha think, SeaTac?" She's ignoring Portar, glances back at you.
Outside, of course, you see the waves rise and fall, and the shore is looming nearer.
"No. Not a shame. In anyone's hands, this is a threat that can't be allowed. Don't care if I trust whoever takes it now, too much mobility, too much potential to flood the world we got." I can understand the appreciation for what they've done, but this thing is pure trouble.
I raise one of my bloody hands to Cujo’s shoulder as I meet her eyes. It seems as if my own feelings are raw and obvious. The contact helps to still the shaking. Between the battle and the nerves of emergency treatment, I am feeling exhausted. I close my eyes a moment and nod, wordless, feeling my forehead press against hers, a long breath shuddering out of me. I would do the same for any of them.
We let go and I look back at Valentine, give her a small smile. “I am only thankful that I was equal to the crisis this time. And I do not know that I would have been without you.” I reach up and pull at my hair, half out of its knot since it was grabbed by the boater who nearly killed me, and let the rest of it down, loose, straight and straggly from being partially soaked in blood.
I look tiredly up at the boaters who watch us. How many of them sick or wounded. How many dead? And what will become of them?
When Dog comes through with orders I call for us to put all the wounded together. Boater and Arrow alike. I ask for what supplies they have and at least two of them… perhaps the women I saw earlier, to help me triage and care for the injured.
I shake Dog off at first, sorta fixated on getting some sort of keepsake from the wreckage of this awful week. But it's hard to stay fixated when everyone else leaves and she's just there, holding her hand out.
::I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again,:: I say. I mean, I knew I would, in my gut. But my gut gets me in dumb places sometimes.
I get up and step behind Dog, on tip toes. My neck over her shoulder, my arms tight over her belly. Feeling that wiry strength beneath my arms. Then my good hand is roving, making sure she hasn't gotten herself too tore up finding me.
Afterward, I'm pulling away, from her, good hand going for the one of hers not holding an MG. There's too much to do.
When we're on the brig and we're back near a working intercom. I can't help but go to it. I know that Arrows and boaters both will hear me.
My eyes are on Portar, but my mouth is pressed against the microphone.
"Before the waters, before the breaking, before the now," I start. But then my voice breaks.
This isn't the time for an old story. This is the time for a new one.
"After the waters, after the breaking, in the now," I start over, "There was a red wave."
I tell them about a woman, young no longer, who was lost. But called out to those who loved her, in the dark calm of dawn beside the deep red sea. And how redemption comes on the waves, despite it all, despite everything.
"When we reach shore," I say into the microphone, "Look me in the eye. Say my name. And tell me you seek succor. And we will lead you to safety."
I let my fingers off the button for the intercom. Let it buzz in my absence. Then step away.
I don't let Portar look me in the eye.
SeaTac,
Tin-Girl looks over at you for a moment, then squats down to follow a line of wires from some housing, "I wonder if anyone says that about our h-bikes?" She glances up again, "Do you think we're a threat like that, SeaTac?" She grins, "Do you think Laika's a threat like that?"
August,
Why don't you roll Artful & Gracious for that story?
With another, I might feign modesty. So many people, oneself included, will spin stories of flattery and competence to curry favor or soothe an ego. With Bon, there's no feigning. She's the genuine article, as is my faint flush at the praise. I keep my hands on Ace, holding on to somone. "It is my pleasure to play even a small role in your art, Bon. But next time, let's have a different crisis?" A wan version of smile number three.
I start and look at the speaker when I hear August's voice, sweeter than a warm towel. "August," I whisper. "Lead me to safety."
I smile back, more fully this time, to see Valentine blush. “Agreed. I shall hand pick only the most pleasent of crises from now on.”
August’s voice comes over the speaker and I see its effect on Valentine even as my own heart turns over.
My head drops. I sigh quietly. My hand closes around the severed digits in their wrapping. Colder would be better but I have perhaps two days to attempt to reattach them, and sooner rather than later. Even then I don’t know if I can return all of their old function to the woman…
I turn to organizing the wounded. Despite my exhaustion, work is the best remedy for avoiding thought.
::I believed we would. It was hard.:: I hold August's arms against me gently when she holds me, just a moment. Rest my head on hers.
I've made it through all this fighting okay, she finds some bruises on me that make me breathe out in small hurt. My neck is still ripped on from that forest trip, when August touches it I stiffen. She wasn't there. "That's old. I'm okay."
I take her hand light and walk with her, getting things done, but feeling that comfort.
August tells us all a story over that intercom, it's generous but it also feels like something we all need, her first. I missed her stories.
Artful and Gracious. Marking exp.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 6. Total: 13)
Magda the washerwoman loves me.
Kite and Townie, both guards, love me.
I pause before answering Tin Girl, listening to August's voice fill the nooks and crannies and hearts. "Reckon you all are a threat, Tin Girl. So am I. It's about scale. With this rifle, I can kill a man from a mile way. This thing? This thing can kill a hold, and from farther. And with no way to respond." I shrug. "Besides, you, Laika, Dog? I trust you."
SeaTac,
That gets a grin from Tin-Girl, a knowing little grin like you answered something other than what you said. "Not Chance, though. Don't trust her. She's a thiefy thief. Or Belka. She's a lying horndog. Or August, because she'll wrap you round her fingers. Wait. Well. No." She pulls a screwdriver from one of the pockets on her cargo pants and starts fiddling with a gauge to pry it off the console where she's standing. "Zeus? She's old, she'll forget you. Heh. Heh... heh." She trails off, words less important than the gauge and the wires behind.
Portar chances a look over at you, sort of a "what the hell is wrong with that one?"
Tin-Girl may not always make complete sense, but I like her. I give Portar a flat look in return, hold it just a second too long.
"How much salvage do you think we can score off this thing, Tin-Girl?"
SeaTac,
She looks up at you again, "Soak me, SeaTac, Balls would drop a load to look at most of this stuff. If Dog gives me enough time, we could score big big off this. She won't, though. It's do it and get it done, and I miss stuff when I hurry." She peers at Portar for a moment, then back to you, "Pretty sure I've figured out how this boat goes. If you wanna bullet tubby over there, you can."
Portar's eyes widen, but he tries to pretend that's just some joke. He's probably preparing some reasons to offer for you not to do that.
What do you do?
August,
Didn't say earlier, but you snag three barter out of Captain Portar's locker and shit. What's the most surprising thing you find in there?
Dog and August,
Grunge comes up her rifle slung over her shoulder. "Hey Dog, sorry to interrupt," she doesn't sound very sorry, but she said the words. "Bon's having us move the hurt Arrows over by the Boaters. Almost done. I'm gonna go check the rest of the boat, make sure we got 'em all corralled. You need anything?"
August, she's totally interrupting you. You know this. You've seen it before.
My sidearm is already in my hand, and there's no way this red-soaked idiot is stepping off this boat. August might wish she could be here to see it, but then there would be talking, and talking adds variables, messiness.
Quick, but not hurried, I raise the gun and fire.
Most interesting thing I found in Portar's belongings? An old book, carefully wrapped up in plastic. Words highlighted and underlined. Worn leather cover, embossed with a cross. I can't read the words, but I've heard of these books before.
The gunshot punctuates the space between Grunge's question and my answer.
I look to the sky, listening.
Grunge asks me for something to hop to. Tryna' impress me, which doesn't hurt. Then the gun shot goes off and I tense a moment, wait for more, hand goin' to my hip and leanin' forward to spring. No more. I think I know why.
"When you're done with that, ask Tin-Girl how long she thinks we got on the red left. We'll need people to keep an eye on the boaters as they leave for shore."
SeaTac,
Portar realizes too late that it's over. He tries to say something, anything, but the bullet takes him first. He falls to the deck, dead before he hits.
Tin-Girl blinks with the shot, tenses a little, but doesn't scream or anything. She looks over at the body lying there, relaxes, then walks over to the wheel, "Nice, ah, nice work." She says it like she's cool. She's a little surprised you did it.
Bon and Valentine,
Yeah, you heard that shot, too.
Like a broken glass in the middle of a quiet dinner. I look sharp to see what I can see, tensed to react, with steel, if needed. To stand with Bon and Ace if needed.
One shot, though. "Remind me never to parley."
No need to reply on that, so I keep my eye on the room, the entrances and exits. Tin-Girl needs my help, she'll ask for it.
I glance at Portar's body in passing, consider checking his pockets, and decide I'll leave that for someone else.
I pause at the sound, going still in the middle of applying makeshift bandages. I look at the boaters around me and wonder if it was Dog or Seatac before deciding that I do not wish to know and returning to my efforts.
All,
Anything left to do before the boat comes to the shore?
I'm at my post, watching the prow cut through the bloody sea. Thinking about something. Been alone a long time. Feel like that's less true, now, what with Joey and this operation. That comes with risk, weakness, variables.
I decide I don't care about the downside.
With the rush over, I need to see August, make sure she's still in three pieces.
I'm sure I look the rube, agog at being in the belly of the Leviathan. Hard to believe it's still a real thing. I want to know what their kitchen looks like, and why they burned the Harbor, and what they had against its former master. If their captain is dead, I don't know who would speak to me.
My father used make a joke about going to see the submarine races, and I wonder at the majesty of seeing this ship in full daylight. Probably not the same spectacle.
When Valentine finds me, I take zir to the prow. One feeling I'll take away from the Leviathan in my short-yet-long time upon it that feeling of homecoming when they took me to their red-stained port. That's something Valentine should experience.
I'll hold zir hand as we reach the burnt harbor. It's a charred, awful place to begin our way home, but it's ours.
I worry about the spray of water on my face. What an awful way to go. To drown. I force my gaze away from the waves. The sight of the charred harbor, burned teeth from a massive bloody jaw, makes a body feel small and ephemeral.
I discard several trite, meaningless bits of small talk as the boat moves closer to shore, to land. Our silence is comfortable. There's no need to fill it with phrases of low import, or half-flirting patter.
"How are you doing?" I ask her, genuine.
I kneel in the makeshift infirmary and morgue taking the breather to stand the quiet vigil for Marmaduke. I brush back her hair thinking about how terribly young she looks in the dim flickering light of the hold. I look across the isle to a boater girl, equally young, equally dead, having passed only moments ago. I must ask the rest of them for her name. My list has grown. I close my eyes and think hard about the feel of my body pressed against August's when I saw her again, then about the look of August and Dog together and a murky discontent that is not mere envy wells up within me.
Was it all worth it? I want to say it was, desperately, but can I say it the face of these blank, dead eyes? It was. I has to be. But at such a cost.
I wipe my eyes.
My legs sting and throb. I get to my feet again and back to helping those who still breathe.
Propped up against a stretch of wall that's the bridge on the inside, I look out over the sea and it chills the warm satisfaction I feel at what we've done. Lot of hurt gathered up in my people, but so much more coulda gone wrong. Without SeaTac we woulda been running scared, without Bon we woulda lost more Arrows, without Valentine we mighta lost bikes, and without August the fighting mighta lasted much too long. We're almost home.
I get back to moving, walking the deck and being there for people. We got to keep making this worth it. I can't hold still from thinkin'. Who's gonna need what, and how I can use this to get it. I said we break the boat but this is a whole bloody soaking lot of scav, too much even for us to tear it up ourselves, even if you give us days. Gotta decide about that.
I'm hungry and thirsty, but I won't dip into boater supplies, and I'll probably puke if I eat much right now.
We're gonna have to figure out who rides Marmaduke home, too.
"I'll be fine," I say absent-mindedly, as I watch the coast growing larger. "Eventually. I always am." There's never enough time to not be fine.
"Thanks for coming. When I called you. Do the same, and I'll be there. I promise." I pull Val close, throw an arm over zir shoulder. "For now though, let's just watch home get closer."
--END SCENE--