by Kell Inkston
The Captain waves his hand dismissively. “We don’t have time for those kinds of questions, Miss Ketiere. If you really must know you can ask me after class. Any more questions on dancing?… Very good, now then-” He turns back to the board and begins explaining the relationship between the male and female partner, leading, gestures, and the basic arts of balance.
Jim and Colette, knowing that the topic must be cleared before either of them can concentrate, leans into each other to whisper. “My mom led me to The Nocturna at port when I was fifteen and said it was time to meet my dad. She indentured me and left the same night.”
Colette looks dumbfounded. “You’re indentured? To Doctor Salt?”
Jim nods. “Been working for him for years. We both know that I’m not his son but it raised such a stink when it happened that it spread far and wide that the Cap had a love interest and got cuffed with the kid.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!”
“People are stupid, stupid.”
Colette hisses lightly- in a way that displays both friendliness and offense. “You’re an ass, Jim.”
“At least I’m not swabbing decks,” Jim whispers.
“At least I can leave the crew by the end of the year,” Colette whispers back.
“At least I don’t have to go on suicide missions with a pile of sand.”
“At least I won’t be sleeping in the brig tonight, as usual.”
“At least I’m not ugly in comparison to the only other girl on board.”
Colette draws back, wounded, but smirks in the realization that she’s been provided with prime ammunition. She gives Jim a single, poisonously-pleased look and leans over to Grancis. “Hey Gran, Jim wants to say something to ya’,” she whispers.
Jim gasps and curses at Colette under his breath as Grancis leans over to whisper to Colette. “You know we can’t talk in class.”
“Just real quick. He wanted to tell you that you’re super se-”
“No, we certainly can’t talk in class, can we?” The Captain says as he finishes writing the first set of thoughts on the board.
Colette smiles and Jim inhales sharply. “Sorry, we were just discussing something interesting.”
The Captain adjusts his glasses. “Were you?”
“Oh yes, some most enlightening information.” Colette folds one leg over the other daintily.
“I swear if you s-”
“That sounds like something that should be shared, Miss Ketiere,” The Captain says, cutting off Jim’s threat. “Would you like to tell us?”
Colette nods. “Gladly!” Jim mouths the word “Anything” as she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Jim was just telling me how very much-”
He mouths the words again in horror.
“…How incredibly much…”
Jim bows his head and grips the chair in terror.
“…How he really is enjoying the lecture on dancing. We were discussing how great your posture is while at the board, professor,” Colette says, channeling her inner Grancis and surprising everyone.
“Really?” The Captain looks over himself and then nods. “Well, I suppose I do have a bit of an official presence to my posture when teaching. I suppose that’s only natural for one that wishes to teach a good lecture and keep the attention of his students. I appreciate the thought, both of you.”
Colette nods next to a confused Grancis and a relieved Jim. “Of course. Please continue.”
The Captain nods back and points to the board as Jim mouths “thank you” to Colette. “Alright then, the waltz is a dance in three moves as you can see here. If I see you doing it in four moves, or two in a half, it’s no dinner for you. Now if I could get a volunteer, I’d like to show you all how the dance lo-”
“Yo yo, Cappy,” a voice calls over the intercom.
The Captain scoffs, requests a moment from the three youths with a raised index finger, and steps over to the speaker. “Engineer Luisoix.”
“Sighted something on radar.”
“A large sea animal?”
“We get those all day. It’s worse.”
The Captain hums as he straightens his cap. “Has Thharru finally tracked us down?”
A laugh from the other side of the speaker. “Naw, no where near that bad.”
“Then just what is it?”
“Submarine heading our way. Picking up some pretty vicious lookin’ sigs- pretty sure it’s about to fire.”
“Oh, just a submarine?” The Captain says blandly as the three youths jolt in shock.
“A sub? I’ve never seen one!” Jim spits.
Luisoix chuckles. “Yeah, maybe if you weren’t in the brig all the time you would’ve spotted that one on the Ach’eino line three years back.”
“Sh-shut up!” he snaps back.
“You shut up, nerd. So cap, what we gonna do?”
The Captain straightens himself and by some miracle now looks completely sober. “Sound the alarm, have the battle-stations ready.”
“Rodger.” Luisoix clicks off and just as Colette begins to say “Now what?” a blaring alarm sounds throughout the ship.
Jim rises from his chair. “Wh-what do we do?”
The Captain waves the three out of the gym. “Ahh, I do suppose this is your very first combat drill without being in the brig, isn’t it?”
Jim sighs as Colette scoffs. “Yeah! So what do we do?”
“Come along this way, Mister Masthaven.” The Captain takes the three up to the helm as dozens of sailors file past them to man guns, loading stations, and all sorts of other neato things designed for blowing up nouns. The Captain seals the helm with a practiced motion and immediately steps up to the intercom. “Luisoix.”
A short silence, then a response. “Yo.”
“What’s their orientation?”
“Presently south-southwest.”
The Captain looks out a window to the south-southwest and spots a large, awe-demanding monument of a submarine just a few meters below. The three youths gawk at the vessel as The Captain leans back to the intercom. “Have they fired anything?”
“Nope, they’re slowing down… intercepting a signal. It’s from them.”
“Patch it.”
“Patching.”
“…Captain, greetings.” An emotionless, snake-like voice speaks from the intercom.
The youths look over to The Captain and listen in. “Excuse me but who is this?”
There’s a loud, vicious hiss over the line. “Have you forgotten me already? Did you really forget our duel on Pe-”
“Excuse me, how did you get this number?” The Captain asks as if he’s received an unsolicited phone call. Colette sighs. The Captain only looks and sounds sober- he’s still acting quite drunk.
“…Are you serious? I have six torpedoes aimed at your puny littl-”
“Sorry. I’m not interested.”
“As I was saying I’ll blow you straight down to the deep one’s jaws if you don’t surr-”
“Please remove me from the calling list. This is my work line, you see.”
There’s a faint snickering from a couple of voices on the other side of the line as the sub captain hisses in disgust. “The humor is not appreciated, Reaper. I expect you’ll agree once you’re neck deep in the drink.”
“Alright well I’m going to hang up now. Please don’t call agai-”
“I always heard The Reaper was a bastard over comms, but I never expected you’d offer me disrespect like this.”
“Oh, pardon me. Are you a captain, like, of a vessel?”
“Yes! Have you really not spotted us yet?! Does that bath-toy even have a radar system?”
The Captain releases a long, curling “ohhhh!” as if he’d made some embarrassing mistake. “There you are! Sorry, I have trouble spotting coward vessels.”
“What?!”
“Sneaking around in the drink like some snake to approach your prey. I never could understand it.”
Another deep hiss from t
he line. “This ‘coward vessel’ you speak of is the S.C.V. Arnados.”
“Shit!” Jim exclaims, having heard more than a few stories about the Arnados and its captain.
The voice scoffs as if pleased hearing Jim’s shock. “The name of my submarine alone should identify me, Captain.”
The Captain gasps with perfect soap-opera poise. “Oh no! Captain Snaky Boots and the grumble gang!”
About five people on the other line burst into laughter as “Captain Snaky Boots” hisses again. “You bastard. You very well know who I am.”
“Sorry, you’re right, Captain Scales Mc’Bite- Oh! Or how about just Captain Venom X? The X would make it considerably more intimidating.”
“Laugh on, Captain. You’ll be doing it to your grave along with all your men.”
The Captain switches the line with trained speed. “Solutions done?” He asks in a completely no-nonsense tone- a polar opposite from what he was just a second ago.
Luisoix answers. “Yeah we’re good. Anytime you want it.”
“Very good.” He flips back to the other line. “Now relax. We can talk this out. No need to have a hissy fit.”
Another batch of laughs from some of the sub operators along with a quaking, furious hiss. “Surrender or you sink. Your choice.”
The Captain scoffs, sighs, and relaxes. “Frankly I’m surprised, Captain Delugars.”
“That’s more like i-”
“I thought you were smarter than this. Let me guess, Captain Livingstone reported my position to Mayor Irefall and she hired you?”
“…As if I’d tell you.”
“You will.”
“…What?”
“See you soon.” The Captain changes back to engineering. “Lower the guns, ‘Y twenty.’ Engineer Luisoix.”
“Wait, so we’re not gonna sink ‘em?”
A group of torpedoes fire from the submarine, revealed obviously by the bubbling explosions from underneath.
“Captain Delugars hurt my feelings. I’m afraid I need to make an example of him so people can spread the story.”
There’s a short silence. “Torpedoes comin’.”
“Fire them out and then raise ‘Y seventy’.”
“Yes sir.”
The four in the helm watch as the gunners fire submersible rounds into the ocean and shooting out the torpedoes, and then raising the guns to point to the air as if they were about to fire at a low-flying airship. The Captain begins tapping his foot in a rhythmic pattern as if he were keeping tune with something else. He flips back to the submarine’s comms as Jim speaks.
“Uh, Cap? What the hell are you doing?”
“Language, Mister Masthaven.”
Jim sighs. “Okay. What the hoot are you doing?”
“Signaling.”
“Signaling wha-”
Before Jim can finish, the S.C.V. Arnados begins raising out of the water by the grip of enormous white tentacles.
The hissing over the intercom is so great that it sounds like a gas leak. “Wh-what is this! Fire something! Someone!” Captain Delugars screams over his operators as the vessel, its propeller groaning weakly, is lifted all the way out of the water and raised at the perfect targeting vector for the pre-aimed guns. The army of tentacles tighten its grip and holds it still. “Captain! What the fuck?!”
“And language to you too, Captain Delugars. You need to be an example to your men.”
The three youths stare on in disbelief as Delugars cries out in rage. “I can’t fucking believe this! You’re worse than cheap, Reaper; you’re completely dishonorable!”
“And that’s why I win, and you lose, Delugars. Hop over or I’ll tear that little bath toy of yours in half before I give the firing order and have my men load yours up with lead.”
There’s a bevy of screaming, crying, and pleading on the other line, punctuated with a long, hissing sigh from Delugars. “I… I surrender.”
“Like I said. See you soon.” The Captain flips comms back to Luisoix. “Alert off. He’s conceded.”
“Anybody would after a surprise like that.”
“The wise eagle keeps his talons hidden, Engineer Luisoix.”
“Ever the poet, Cap.”
“Notify Boris to reward the men with an extra drink ration tonight.”
“Yes, sir!”
A bell tone is wrung over the ship speakers, lifting the alert and causing the gunners to relax, and the loading assistants and others to upright leave the deck to go back to their day-to-day activities.
The Captain waves the three along the helm and out back to the decks. “An upstanding captain must be a fluid capable of countering the shape of his opponent. You would be wise to remember this, Miss Ketiere.”
Colette hums faintly as she downs the steps and watches a scaly head poke out from the Arnados’ top hatch. “Cap,” she says.
“Yes?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Colette says bluntly as the four watch an officially-dressed coral-snake seasort crawl out of the hatch and make an apt leap onto The Nocturna’s deck.
“That’s a shame. Perhaps Miss Vereyrty might be better able to explain.”
Grancis bites her tongue. “Uh, so like water being poured into a bowl?”
Colette sighs at length. “Of course. Right, sorry Captain.”
The Captain just nods as he greets Captain Delugars. “Welcome aboard The Nocturna, Captain Delugars!”
“…Captain,” Delugars hisses faintly.
“Let’s go up and conspire in the interrogation room, shall we?” The Captain says as he pushes Delugars along.
Delugars spares one last look up to his vessel and a bevy of concerned operators peeking out of the top hatch. “Gladly.”
As the two go up the stairs, The Captain turns to address the three youths. “Go on ahead back to the gym. We’ll recommence shortly.” At that The Captain leads Delugars up into the door labeled “Interrogations” and locks the door behind him.
Colette turns to Grancis. “Water?”
Grancis tilts her head as they return to the gym. “Yes, like… You know, water, a liquid, fitting into any container.”
Colette sighs. “Right, but how exactly does this apply to how The Captain beat the submarine guy?”
“Uh,” Grancis bites down again. “Like, he countered Captain’s Delugars strategy by matching one of… wait.”
“Like, I think I understand what he means to say, but how would that be applicable? He literally just had a sea monster grab the submarine. I mean… wait.” Colette sighs and turns to Jim. “A sea monster? How the hell-”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Jim says with a shrug. “Everyone has an ace in the hole, but I’ve figured out that The Captain has a full casino of cards up his sleeve by this point.”
Grancis smirks, a vision of The Captain waving his arms with flair and spewing out a million cards in all directions quite clear in her mind.
“And… just everyone on the ship’s okay with this? Like, wouldn’t people be talking?” Colette asks.
Jim and Grancis search their minds for some explanation, but can’t come up with anything really satisfactory. “Well, not asking questions is part of the standard contract. You could probably ask him, though,” Jim says.
Colette draws back into her chair. “Really? I don’t think I signed that.”
Grancis hums. “Well, I did. I was told by Boris that your contract was different because you were a direct and willing apprentice to The Captain.”
Jim sighs. “Do you know what was on your contract?” He asks.
Colette looks aside. “Uh… I just sort of skimmed.”
Jim and Grancis share a blink-fast, unimpressed glance. “You know it’s not uncommon for sailors to accidentally sign away their whole lives on those things.” Jim says.
Colette smirks. “As if The Captain would do that.”
Jim sighs. “Just ask Boris.”
Colette flinches and looks to Jim with shock. “Wai
t, wha-” She’s interrupted by a drawn out, hissing scream, piercing all the way from the interrogation room to the first floor deck. Colette clears her throat and Jim shivers.
“Captain up to his old tricks it seems,” Jim says.
The three sit in silence, listening intently to the muffled, pain-stricken voice of the mighty Captain Delugars reverberating throughout he cold steel of The Nocturna’s hull.
“So… Boris?” Colette asks.
Jim clears his throat. “Yeah. I don’t know the specifics, but apparently he’s in The Captain’s service until one of them dies.”
Grancis raises her brows in interest as Colette breaks a cold, unpleasant sweat. There’s another long, piercing scream of agony from the interrogation room, and then Colette speaks. “That sucks. Was he told?”
Jim shakes his head, eyes closed and brows raised as if in shame. “Not in the slightest, signed his life right away with everything he earns.”
“Wow... That’s fucking terrible.”
“Actually I asked him about it. Turns o-”
“Yeah.” Jim nods solemnly as he interrupts Grancis. “So you know then. He’ll be a slave till he dies.”
“Jim,” Grancis says with a tone of butterfly-like gentleness.
He’s taken aback by the tone. “Y…Yeah?”
“Please let me talk.”
Colette snickers and Jim coughs. “Right, sorry.”
“Thank you. Boris didn’t sign a work contract, but a duel agreement,” she explains.
Colette and Jim look to each other, then back to Grancis. “Wait, now you’ve got me confused.” Jim says.
Grancis nods. “The agreement was that one could not be a distance of more than ten nautical leagues until one of them died. Initially they were supposed to murder each other through ambushes on the island they met on, but it turned out they became good friends instead. So the contract is still binding and The Captain won’t let Boris break it because he likes his cooking. Boris has nothing better to do on the ship so he decided he’d do it and be The Nocturna’s chef for a while. Boris still hasn’t gotten the jump on The Captain, so apparently he’s given up.”
The two sitting next to Grancis have blunt, dumbfounded looks. “Gran, I like, didn’t know you were so up on everyone’s lives on the boat,” Colette says.
Grancis smiles. “Well, there’s not much to do when preparing meals, so I’ve talked to Boris quite a bit. He’s really talkative during work, actually, so he’s told me lots of stories.”