#cyexian

Watching each other’s backs every step of the way, they retreated to the VIP Quarters. Encountering no resistance, but finding it no less reassuring all the same. Though relieved to see the guest quarters empty, they were not terribly surprised to find the Young Master’s closed. “Who’s out there?” they heard Maximilian’s muffled voice demand. “We’re armed, you know!” “It’s okay!” Justin assured him. “It’s just us!” “How do I know you’re not being held at gunpoint or something?” The jangled suspicion coming through even clearer than his voice. “Because I wouldn’t be here if they were,” the bounty hunter answered, commenting, “Not bad, though, at least you’re still thinking…” “And why should I trust you?” “Because she helped us beat Striker,” Shades told him. “Have you seen Bandit?” Max asked. “I haven’t seen him since the attack started…” “He’s fine,” Maximilian answered as he opened the door for them, power pistol pointed out warily. “Young Master—” Sebastian blurted from behind the bed, looking skittish enough to hit the deck at the first sudden move. “It’s okay,” he reassured the butler, even as he confirmed for himself that the hall was as devoid of enemies as they said. “So what happened?” “Mercer’s taken the bridge,” Shades informed him. Max, meanwhile, brushed past them the moment he saw his feline friend in the cabin, both immensely relieved to see each other alive and well. “And Striker’s crew have the engine room,” the bounty hunter added. “I’m sure of it. Which means things just got a whole lot more complicated. And now we’re pet-sitting?” Justin and Shades, meanwhile, wasted no time racing into the other room and gathering up their gear, thanking their lucky stars that all of those interruptions had also prevented the pirates from looting any of it. Retreating back to the other room, they hastily threw on their clothes, the awkwardness of their capture coming back with a vengeance now that the fighting had subsided. At least for the moment, they now understood, as the implications of the bounty hunter’s words began to sink in. “Who are you?” Maximilian finally demanded, summing up all of their collective curiosity. “My name is Roxy,” she answered, “but most call me the Hunter.” “Or ‘That Crazy Bitch’…” Justin noted sourly. “And most folks who call me that tend to end up on the wrong side of fights with me,” Roxy warned him. “Besides, kid, right now you have bigger problems to worry about.” “We’re sitting ducks out here, aren’t we?” Shades asked point-blank. “You catch on quick,” Roxy replied. “Without the engines, we have no chance in hell of getting back to Alta. Which means that from here on out, we’re in a battle for control of this ship between now and dry land. Perhaps we should start with a roll call. I told you my name.” “Max,” he told her, “and this is Bandit.” “Shades.” “Justin.” “I’m Maximilian Vandenberg, the owner of this ship,” the Young Master introduced himself, “And this is— was— my butler, Sebastian. I’m grateful for your help.” “Don’t thank me yet, kid,” Roxy cautioned him. “We’ve still got a long way to go.” “You know something about all this, don’t you?” Though there was little question in Maximilian’s tone. “From the looks of things, more than you do,” the bounty hunter told him. “But since I don’t have obstructive bureaucrats who won’t let me talk to key witnesses out here, perhaps you could tell me something I don’t know. What really happened to Albert Freedan and Aden Rawne?” “You wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you,” the Young Master sighed, and the others nodded solemnly. “That’s why I gave them the short and sweet version. Freedan and Rawne are both dead, but they took a lot of money we were never able to recover…” “Your detective work leaves much to be desired,” Roxy replied. “I got a lot of intel out of the members of Rawne’s crew you missed. As I’m sure you know by now, Mercer was the buyer for Freedan’s arms, one of his various money laundering schemes, and Mercer finally found a buyer of his own, Striker. Then Striker’s little stunt in Alta the other day threw a wrench in their works. Then, just when it looked like their deal might fall through, you went and approached the Assembly.” “Sloan…” Maximilian hissed, remembering the name all too well from his little chat with Mercer. “Freedan was already planning to use this ship, which is why they dragged it out of mothballs,” she explained, “so all Mercer had to do was smuggle his arms aboard as ‘cargo’ and Assemblyman Sloan could finally wash his hands of his part in the whole Vandenberg scandal.” “But what about the rest of the Assembly?” Shades pointed out. “Are they just as crooked? And what about Mercer’s ‘past experience’?” “I’m afraid you dropped the ball on that one,” Roxy told them. “Mercer is an arms dealer, a smuggler, and his ‘past experience’ running ships was as a pirate. According to my sources, he’s hijacked at least two other ships along the way, so I’m not surprised he backstabbed you, too. For what it’s worth, if he didn’t have a dangerous man like Aden Rawne backing him, that’s probably what he would have done to Freedan, as well.” “So what do you know about Rawne?” Max piped up. “If you don’t mind me asking?” “Rawne?” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “According to my info, he’s a free-lance merc with a preference for high-rolling clients. Bodyguard, escort, expeditionary. Known to tide himself over with piracy between more lucrative clients… Or at least, he was.” “And Freedan?” Justin wondered aloud. “Next to nothing,” she admitted. “Possibly even an alias. Apparently, he was from New Cali, by all accounts, but that seems to be all anyone in Alta really knew about him. My guess? He probably pissed off some powerful people back in New Cali, and spent all this time looking for a way to buy his way back in.” “Which leads us right back here,” Maximilian concluded. “I was originally hoping to collect on Mercer and Striker, but now it’s down to just Mercer, and our chances of doubling back to Alta are pretty much shot now. That means the rest of his crew are living on borrowed time if they don’t hand him over. I don’t take prisoners unless they’re worth something…” “So it’s kill or be killed with you?” Max looked her square in the eye. “I’m a bounty hunter.” Roxy blinked, otherwise taking his gaze head-on. “I don’t get paid unless I haul someone’s ass in for something. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan to spend the rest of this voyage surrounded by cutthroats waiting to kill me around every corner.” “Trying to keep them all locked up would be a pain in the ass…” Justin agreed. “But if anyone does surrender quietly,” Shades proposed, “we should find some section of the ship to use as a brig.” “Your funeral,” Roxy shot back, “but if they get in my way, they’re dead. We’re dead in the water out here, boys. Have you given any thought to the food or water situation? And that’s to say nothing of what we do if Striker comes back around…” All the while, Maximilian crumpled into the foot of his bunk, head down, looking as if he were trying to vanish into the corner. “I’ve never really done anything on my own, have I?…” he nearly sobbed. “Maybe Freedan was right after all…” Sebastian simply sighed, looking like he wanted to say something encouraging, but just couldn’t find the words after all they’d been through lately. “Pull yourself together,” Shades told him, with every word trying not to dwell on the most recent gauntlet of perils he’d run himself. “We’ve survived worse than this. You’ve survived worse than this. Remember that.” “And where were you when Freedan was taking my home?” he demanded, raising his head to stare right at her with his baleful gaze. “Somewhere between Torgo and Alta… Your guess is as good as mine.” The Young Master’s burning glare crumbled into a blank, ashen look. “Don’t look at me like that, kid,” Roxy shot back. “I’m a bounty hunter, not a babysitter. I’m nobody’s hero. The Assembly didn’t even hire me until after Freedan disappeared. That’s just how it is.” “Would ya cut him some slack?” Justin muttered. “He just lost his father, his home, everything…” Then paused and turned to him. “Still, be glad you got to have a father. Unlike some of us.” “Shit happens.” Roxy shrugged. “The question is: what are you gonna do about it?” Max simply stood there, looking at his double as if he wanted to say something, yet held his peace, wearing the same somber expression as when they found Percival’s remains deep in the ruins. “I’m here now,” she told him, “and I happen to be an ally. I don’t need any dead weight.” A troublesome ally, Shades concluded, but an ally nonetheless… “So what do you want?” Roxy asked him straight-up. “I want my ship back.” “Are you willing to fight for it?” And she was answered with indecisive silence. “Um, if I might contribute something here…” Sebastian spoke up for the first time in this conversation, then trailed off for a moment, as if to make sure they would actually hear him out before he resumed: “Mercer doesn’t have to rely on the engines. Don’t forget, the Excelsior is equipped with an auto-rigged sail system that allows for sailing and maneuvering of a ship this size, even with only a skeleton crew onboard.” “If he’s remembered that,” Roxy pointed out, “then Alta is out of the question. That means we’ll have to regain control of the ship before he can do anything else.” The cabin got very quiet as they steeled themselves to take the next step.

“Ha!” Striker crowed triumphantly, savoring the turning of the tables. “Even if you’ve learned some new tricks, you’re still too soft to beat me! Now, where did we leave off—” Striker was forced to turn her blade aside to block the Hunter’s attack, which she barely saw coming out of the corner of her eye. “You shouldn’t say things like that while your enemy is still breathing,” the bounty hunter admonished her. “It’s called speaking too soon.” “Yeah, well I’m still standing, too!” Striker shot back. “You’ve come between me and my prey, Hunter. I’ll go through you, if I have to!” “You could barely handle him,” the Hunter snorted. “I’ll admit, the kid’s got skills, but I trained in the Old Ways, which your petty Pactra have long lost.” “Dammit—” Striker began. “Captain Striker!” Mousy piped up again, sounding unexpectedly stern, given who she was addressing, “This is serious! Mercer’s men are throwing firebombs at our ship!” “The hell!?” Striker demanded, moving back from between Max and the Hunter, especially now that the former had drawn his spare laser blade to cover himself while he moved to recover his lost weapon. “Serves you right, bitch!” Mercer shouted from a doorway on the other side of the ballroom. “I thought you might try to pull some shit while you were here, so I had some of my men set up to attack your ship in case you started anything!” “You bastard!” “Now it’s my turn!” Mercer told her, whipping out his power pistol— But was immediately forced to duck back inside the doorway as Justin opened fire on him first. “I’m the most ‘generous’ mariner on the high seas!” Justin warned him, “And I got plenty more where that came from!” “Captain!” Mousy urged her again, “We have to pull back! If they keep it up, our only remaining ship will be lost!” Striker looked around, at last noticing that all of her surviving forces had already fled, and she was in danger of being abandoned by her own crew once they disengaged. “You’re not goin’ anywhere!” the Hunter told her. “You and Mercer are going back to Alta!” “Like hell I am!” Mercer’s voice faded from the doorway. “Look out!” Shades warned them as Mousy tossed a grenade their way. Even as they hit the deck, belatedly realizing that no one would throw an explosive device anywhere near their own captain, it burst into a cloud of smokescreen as Striker beat a hasty retreat with her second. “You’re not the only one who can play with smoke bombs!” Mousy taunted them as she covered her captain’s retreat from the ballroom. Coughing and cursing, the Hunter took off after them as soon as the shooting stopped. “Dammit!” she muttered as she re-armed her sawed-off disrupter rifle, the bayonet unfolding into a blade at least as long as the barrel itself as she powered down her laser staff. “Wait!” Max shouted, joining the pursuit. “Max!” Shades moved to back up his friend. Justin looked back and forth between them and the direction Mercer fled, before Maximilian crawled out from behind another table, still covering a very apprehensive-looking butler. “He’s heading for the bridge!” Maximilian announced. “I’m sure of it!” “Young Master!” Sebastian moaned as his charge and Justin took off after the renegade captain. The Hunter was hot on Striker’s heels every step of the way back to the main gate, both of her adversaries running too hard to return fire, and Max and Shades stayed hot on hers. Out there, they immediately saw what Mousy was so upset about, as a couple of Mercer’s men were lobbing what appeared, to Shades, to be Molotov cocktails down from the uppermost deck. Mousy called out to their own crew, who looked about ready to pull out, and some of them diverted their fire from holding off the bombers to covering Striker’s escape, forcing her pursuers to duck back inside the cabin. “You’ll pay for this, Mercer!” Striker declared as they retracted their makeshift gangplank. “Your days are numbered! Yours too, Max, when next we meet!” “Shove it, bitch!” Mercer called out from one of the bridge windows. “We ain’t stickin’ around for any more of your shit! We’ll find another buyer for our cargo as soon as we take back our ship!” True to his word, the Cyexians barely had time to finish withdrawing before the Excelsior began to swerve in the opposite direction as the Cruel & Unusual was veering. “We’ll see about that!” the Hunter challenged, turning to head for the bridge. Glancing at Max a moment in puzzlement, she demanded, “And what the hell did you do to piss her off that much?” Before Max could answer, Shades did: “We kinda sank her other ship.” “That was you guys!?” she blurted, clearly being her turn to be surprised. “I heard somebody fucked up her program, but…” “That, and she thinks I know where the other sword in that set is,” Max told her. “You seem rather well informed,” she remarked as they reached the corridor leading to the bridge, “for people who only fought her once.” “A guy named Rude Bones told us about it,” Justin filled in the blank as they reached his position. “We do our homework,” Shades added. “That Rude Bones?” she snorted. “Why?” Justin shrugged. “You know ’im or somethin’?” “Not personally,” she replied, “but in his younger days, he was known as the Madman of Kimo Daji. A real character, I’m told.” “So he was a real pirate…” Shades mused. “Well I’ll be damned!” Justin laughed. “Okay, enough small talk,” the Hunter cautioned them as they entered the corridor. “We need to stay focused.” “I don’t know what you’re planning out there…” Mercer’s voice threatened from behind that barred door, “but you can just forget about it! Once my men are through flushing out those damn Cyexians, we’ll be coming for you, too!” “We’ll smoke ’em out!” the Hunter told them, digging in a pouch strapped down from her belt. “Don’t even think about it!” Mercer hollered back. “I’ve got real grenades, and I’m not afraid to rearrange the cabin if it means getting rid of you!” “Don’t think we should call his bluff,” Shades advised. “Hey, guys,” Max commented, wincing as he belatedly noticed his duel with Striker had reopened his shoulder wound, “does anyone notice that we just stopped moving?” “What the hell just happened!?” they heard Mercer demand from inside. “I don’t know!” one of them blurted back. “We just lost all engine power!” “Must be Striker’s leftovers…” the Hunter muttered, then called out, “So, Mercer, it looks like Striker’s sisters are giving you a hard time!” But Mercer didn’t seem to be paying her any attention, as all they could make out was cussing and frantic babbling as they struggled to deal with this new turn of events. “So if we’re not moving anymore,” Justin thought aloud, “what do we do if Striker comes back?” “Check and see if I packed my brown pants for this trip,” Shades answered, then paused for a moment. “Y’know, I don’t think Mercer’s gonna budge in there, so maybe we should go back to our quarters to regroup and recoup. Right about now, pants sound good, brown or not.” “Wait a minute!” Max cried, mortified that he could have forgotten something so important even in this chaotic situation, “Where’s Bandit?” “Back in our quarters, last I saw,” Shades replied after a brief pause to switch gears. “We better go check,” Justin recommended, seeing the worry all too plain on his friend’s face. “No telling what Mercer might do right now if we try to take the helm,” the bounty hunter conceded, “and without the engines, the bridge is useless anyway… Dammit! I was trying to collect the bounty on both Mercer and Striker!... Now I’ll have to settle for just him. The rest are expendable.” With that, they withdrew to the passenger deck to take stock of their situation.

“What is it now?” Striker demanded. Clearly trying to sound exasperated, yet somehow coming off sounding nervous instead, despite having the people who sank her ship right where she wanted them. “Several of our crew! The ones that stayed with the cargo!” Mousy blurted. “They’ve all been killed!” “What the hell is the meaning of this!?” Striker demanded, turning on Mercer. “I don’t know what she’s talking about!” Mercer retorted, bristling with indignation. “Last I heard, we already secured the cargo holds…” “We left our sisters in your care after they got left behind back in Alta,” Striker reminded him. “They got left behind,” Mercer muttered, “because you just had to go after that ship, and business be damned.” “That was business,” Striker informed him, gesturing to her nearest prisoners, “just as this is. They were Pactra, Mercer, do you know what that means for you right now?” By now, all of Striker’s crew and Mercer’s were pointing weapons at each other in open distrust. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mercer pointed out. Though his own crew was almost equal in number to her boarding party, he still didn’t trust those odds with them already onboard, let alone having reinforcements back on their ship. “That Max guy is still on the loose.” “And taking care of the brat’s companions was on your end of the bargain,” was Striker’s curt reply. Just when it looked as if the tension in the room couldn’t stretch any tighter, one of Mercer’s men came rushing in with his own frantic announcement “Captain!” he reported, “There’s a problem! A couple of our men were found tied… up…” He trailed off as he finally noticed the situation he just blundered into. “Well now,” Mercer quipped, “I would dare say this means we both have a common enemy, Striker.” “Max?…” Justin wondered aloud, blinking as if at the realization he had even spoken. “Maybe…” Shades speculated, “but Max ain’t in the habit of just killing people…” “Maybe they didn’t give him a choice?” Almost as soon as Maximilian finished speaking, he looked like he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. “Perhaps,” Striker cautioned. “If it is him, then you might get off only paying blood price, as this still happened on your watch.” “Either way,” Mercer assured her, “he can’t make a move as long as we have his friends.” “He’s probably right on that account,” Mousy mused, recalling her impression of Max from their last run-in, “but I can’t help wondering if someone else is onboard with us…” “Like who?” Striker scoffed. “I heard rumors, back in Alta…” Mousy told them. “Nonsense,” Mercer agreed. “Who could possibly sneak aboard while we were all standing—” Perhaps it was because they were both on-edge in the face of an unexpectedly grim end, but Shades and Justin were the only ones to notice the little black balls that rolled into the room, turning away just in time as they lit up the room with blinding strobe flashes. Even as everyone else flinched, the second wave burst into a cloud of smokescreen. Justin and Shades wasted no time turning and disarming the nearest of their captors while they were blinded. The two of them being the only ones who closed their eyes in time to see anything of what happened next, caught glimpses of fast, agile movements cutting through the pirates’ midst. Flashes and flickers of neon yellow laser blade punctuated by grunts and cries of pain as this vague, fluid shape worked its way through their ranks. One of the last ones standing regained his sight just in time to see a cleated boot rushing up at his face before he hit the ground. The broad sweep of a laser staff ending in Striker blocking with her own red double energy blades. “Oh shit…” Mercer gasped. “It’s her!” A flutter of cloak, draped to her left in her current fighting stance. Shoulders squared by broad, angular shoulder guards, framing a dark grey military garb of unknown design. Stripped of any insignias, and fortified with bits and pieces of light body armor, including open-fingered gauntlets and knee-high armored boots. Mid-length blonde hair, and the violet eyes of Cyexian ancestry, that seemed to match all too well with the dervish grin that took everyone else aback as she confronted her prey. “Problem solved…” the newcomer declared. Moaning, twitching pirates from both crews sprawled around the deck at her feet. “The Hunter!” cried Mousy. “So it was true!” “Quite the catch,” the Hunter remarked. “The Alta Assembly hired me to investigate some shady business dealings, but I never thought they’d lead me to the likes of you. And Mercer. And Sloan, with his confession…” But Mercer wasn’t having any of it, running for the nearest door. Only to get knocked staggering right back inside, falling flat on his face. “You’re not going anywhere,” Max told him sternly as he strode into the room. Turning to their unexpected guest, he told her, “I don’t know who you are, but I thank you for saving my friends.” “Nor do I know who you are,” the Hunter told him, “but I’m assuming you’re not defenseless. Hostage situations are such a pain in the ass.” “You’re tellin’ me…” Shades muttered. “So it is you,” Striker remarked, turning to face Max. “It’s about time you showed yourself, boy.” The Hunter wasted no time pressing her own attack, forcing Striker to face her again. “You don’t have time to mess with him,” she informed the pirate captain, “not when you’re dealing with me.” Much to everyone’s surprise, Mousy jumped in between them, giving Striker an opening to go after Max as she drew her power pistol. “The Captain’s got a score to settle!” she told the bounty hunter, apparently surprising even herself with her conviction, “So you’ll just have to—” But her opponent wasted no time, cleaving her gun and sweeping her laser staff back across so fast Mousy could barely dodge the second swing, staggering away. “You talk too much,” the Hunter told her, turning to see that Striker and the young man were already engaged. As several of Striker’s crew charged into the room, she kicked over a table and ducked behind it as she switched weapons to a compact, sawed-off disrupter rifle concealed under her cloak, a jagged-looking bayonet folded across the top. “Tch…” Fortunately, Justin and Shades, who had armed themselves in the meantime, also wasted no time upending tables and joining her in returning fire as Maximilian and Sebastian hit the deck. Max and Striker, meanwhile, picked up where they left off aboard the Brazen. “I know that symbol, boy,” Striker told him. So much chaos that day, but there was something about that mark on Max’s headband that bothered her from the moment she first laid eyes on it, and it stuck with her long after they parted ways. Now that they stood face to face once again, she could confirm what she merely suspected before that humiliating battle: “It was the same mark worn by the man who stole my predecessor’s sword!” Max paused in a dangerous moment of recognition. Last time they fought, he was sure he had seen her blade before somewhere before. Now he realized where: her sword looked just like one Angus had in his collection. Nabbed as a ‘trophy’ as he recalled, from some pirate or another, one half of a set. This must be its twin. “Uncle Angus?…” “You know him…” Striker’s eyes ablaze. “Where is that bastard!? I want what’s mine.” “Wouldn’t know.” Max shrugged, surprised at the sound of his own regret. Though not for her sake. “Haven’t seen him in years.” “Then I’ll settle for your head!” Though Max had at least provided her with a name. Angus. More than her predecessors ever found. With that, she resumed her attack. “You’ll pay for what you did to the Brazen!” she snarled, “and you’ll pay for what you did to me! You won’t defeat me this time!” “I’ve defeated you once,” Max reminded her, ignoring her glare with an effort. Trying not to show the strain in his leg or shoulder, he reminded himself of all the experience he’d gained. Erix. Nikopolas. Ma’Quiver. Danjo. Rawne. Stronger than he used to be. “I can do it again.” “Don’t get cocky, boy,” she warned, “just because you bested me once.” Striker quickly discovered, though, that she was in for a rude awakening. Fast becoming apparent that Max’s skills and technique were leagues beyond what he was capable of the last time they crossed swords. Gone were all the gaping openings she could exploit before, tighter than she had ever seen anyone achieve in such a short amount of time. Gone was her rape face, replaced by one of stern focus as they dueled their way across the ballroom, for it was becoming increasingly obvious who was leading this dance. “Dammit…” Striker hissed, catching glimpses of the battle turning against her crew, owing as much to this unwelcome guest as Max’s troublesome friends. “Captain!” Mousy called out, cupping one hand over an earpiece she wore, “There’s trouble back on the ship!” Striker wasted no time, using that moment of distraction to rush Max, who had paused to hear what her second had to say, and he barely dodged, tripping over a fallen chair and losing his grip on his blade as his elbow banged the floor. As his weapon rolled out of reach, he rolled over to find Striker standing over him, her blade pointed at him, just like on the Brazen.

Justin and Shades quickly found the previously scant Excelsior crawling with extra hands, most of them Cyexian, from the look of them. Wishing every step of the way that they’d had more opportunity to learn their way around this ship, they finally managed to make it back to their quarters. Mostly relieved that most of their unwelcome guests were on the lower deck levels, rather than up here. Ducking in the door just before several more pirates passed through. The complete absence of any struggle or alarm only increased their suspicions, as the rest of Mercer’s crew remained at large throughout the ship. As if it wasn’t awkward enough sneaking around a vessel full of armed enemies in just their swim trunks. They were both about to grab their weapons— and some clothes— when they heard someone talking outside their door. Looking frantically about the room, they both scrambled underneath the nearest bed, regretting that if they weren’t ridiculously outnumbered beyond this room, they could have sprung a decent ambush in here. “Let’s see what we have here,” a decidedly female voice mused as the door opened. “Even if we don’t find any of those passengers, we might still pick up some fun souvenirs.” As the pirates’ footfalls spread into the room, the two of them tried to hold as still as possible in such a cramped space, Shades shifting uncomfortably to a more sustainable pose. “Yeah, just try not to pick anything the other crew will miss,” one of the others replied. “We barely got the deal back on…” She trailed off, sniffing the air sharply. “What is it?” one of the others asked. “Don’t you smell that?” “Smell what?” “Wasn’t me!” a third voice piped up. Shades struggled to stifle a nervous snortle at the sheer absurdity of their situation as Justin glared at him, looking back at him like What? The pirates shuffled around nervously for a moment, then seemed to calm down. Just when it sounded like they were about to dismiss it and get back to their looting, someone lifted up the bed. Before either of them could make a move, they found a pair of power pistols pointed at them. “Well, look what we have here!” one of them quipped. “I guess there were passengers after all!” The others laughing so hard they could barely keep their weapons trained on the two of them. “On your feet, you two,” one pirate snickered, “and drop the gun.” Which Justin promptly did. “What the hell did they feed these passengers?” another pirate piped up. “Sorry,” Shades grunted as he got back up, “guess our breakfast disagreed with me…” “If we live through this,” Justin muttered, “I am so going to kick your ass later.” “Shut it, both of you,” the lead pirate ordered. “You’re coming with us.” As they were led out into the hall, they found another pair of pirates covering the neighboring room. “What’s going on?” the lead pirated demanded. “There’s a…” one pirated began. “A big-ass panther in there!” the other finished. “At least Bandit’s okay…” Shades sighed. For now. “Just keep the damn door shut,” the lead pirate instructed. “It’s Mercer’s problem, not ours.” “Yeah, but doesn’t that sound sort of familiar?” the second pirate thought aloud. Both of them stared after Shades and Justin as they were led away to the ballroom. Where they found Maximilian and Sebastian already held captive, but no sign of Max. In addition to the armed foes was Mercer in their midst, as well as someone they had hoped to never cross paths with again. “…My friends have defeated you before,” Maximilian was telling Striker as she shoved him up against a table, and Sebastian looked on in impotent horror, “and they can do… it…” Trailing off as they entered the chamber. “You were saying?” Striker snorted, turning away from him to face her new guests. Stopping short at the sight of them. “You again?” “Yeah,” Shades replied, “we missed you, too.” He now understood that all of this— the swimming pool, brunch with Mercer, whatever wild goose chase they sent Max on— was all just a distraction to keep them from noticing that they were being boarded. And separated. “Just a damn minute!” Striker demanded. “If that wasn’t you on that ship, then who…” “Um, if it’s any kind of consolation,” Shades admitted, “we’d kinda like to know that ourselves, actually.” “To think I thought you got away again,” Striker remarked. “Now I will finally have my revenge.” “What about us?” Maximilian pressed, wanting to change the subject. “What about you?” was Striker’s toneless response. Turning to her crew, she ordered: “Maroon them. They have lifeboats to spare.” “Yeah,” Shades pointed out bluntly, “well at least you had a ship coming to rescue you.” “A minor technicality,” Striker shot back. “You sank my ship, and now you’re gonna pay!” “You were serious!?” Maximilian gaped at his friends. Both of them nodded with much chagrin. “Find me some ballast,” Striker commanded, turning back to her prisoners. “This time, we’re sinking you!” “But what if we traded the ship for our lives?” Maximilian tried again. “This ship isn’t yours to bargain with anymore,” Mercer reminded him curtly. “Besides, it’s a matter of principle,” Striker interjected. “If I don’t kill those who cross me, people start to forget who they’re dealing with.” “I’m sorry,” Maximilian apologized to his companions, looking as abject as Sebastian did grimly resigned. “I tried.” “Search this ship from top to bottom,” Striker ordered her crew, “and find that damn panther, too!” “Aye-aye, Captain!” The three pirates headed for the nearest door in the once-luxuriously decorated hall to resume their search. Striker then turned her attention back to her two half-naked prisoners. “This is your last chance,” she told her two new captives. As amusing as she found their current situation, she wasn’t taking any chances this time. “I know that bastard Max is on this ship. Tell me where he is, and I’ll make your end less painful.” “I’ll say it as many times as I have to.” Shades already understood Striker wasn’t going to let any of them live. Really didn’t leave much incentive for cooperation. Erix taught him that the hard way. “I don’t know.” “And even if we did…” Justin added, having done some thinking of his own. This was hardly the first time in his life that he thought it was all over, but never in his wildest dreams would he have believed it would end like this. In my fuckin’ bathing suit, for cryin’ out loud! “We wouldn’t tell you, bitch!” If he couldn’t have clothes, he could at least try for a little dignity. “Have it your way,” Striker told them. “I’m going to enjoy watching you d—” “Captain Striker! Captain Striker!” Striker’s mousy lieutenant cried as she burst into the room. “We have trouble! Down in the hold!”

The following morning, the Excelsior set sail, only a little later than planned. The weather was fair, the sea calm, and a steady breeze sped them on their way from Amarrah. Despite most of the preparations being last-minute, things were off to a most respectable start. By noon, the ship was out of sight of land, and well underway to parts unknown. Justin and Shades stepped up to the pool, which Maximilian had requested the crew fill for their guests before they departed. Telling them he would be down for a swim after he and Sebastian discussed some matters with Captain Mercer over lunch. Max originally planned to join them, and Shades was relieved Sebastian had reinforced his own advice about unnecessary submersion before the knife wounds on his arm and leg, minor as they were, were fully closed. Especially since the pool facilities onboard did not include chlorination. The pool itself wasn’t terribly large, about fifty or sixty feet long at most, but still impressive for having been added to the ship, rather than part of its original design. Somewhere in the course of that final day on Amarrah, the butler even managed to score some swim trunks from somewhere at the seaport, near the island’s scenic beach, and both of them were surprised and impressed at how well he guessed the fit. Justin jumped in with an ecstatic whoop, popping up a moment later to shake out his hair. Shades opted for a more casual approach, dropping in over the side, finding the water much colder than he expected, colder than he was used to in an indoor pool. “Hey, what’s with you?” Justin asked, pausing in mid stroke as he treaded water. “Sorry,” Shades replied, “it’s just colder than I expected.” “What were you expecting?” Justin laughed. “It is inside, after all.” “Still,” Shades pointed out, “I’m pretty sure Sebastian said it was heated pool…” “So, maybe they forgot to heat it.” “Or clean it?” Shades observed, noting, even as he stayed in motion to keep warm, the visible amount of dirt floating around on the bottom of the pool. “Well, now that you mention it…” Justin looked around the pool, his former enthusiasm draining out of his face. “I don’t know about you,” Shades told him, recalling what that long-closed hotel on Highway 93 back in Montana was like the last time he was there, “but this half-ass excuse for service doesn’t seem to bode well for Maximilian’s new crew, skeleton or not.” “What’re you gonna do, complain about it?” “I don’t know,” Shades said at first, then concluded, “Maybe let the Young Master swim in it and judge for himself.” “I’m sure they’ll take his complaints more seriously than ours.” “Perhaps. Our whole departure was pretty rushed, for a maiden voyage…” Shades still remembered swimming at that hotel south of Kalispell sometimes, as his third-grade friend Darek lived in Somers and knew someone who worked there. This pool reminded him of their final visit there, less than a month before the place shut down for good. That sense of neglect, as if the people involved weren’t even trying anymore. “Is it just me, or does this whole ship seem to be a bit off today?” “What are you getting at?” Meanwhile, they both continued to drift out into the deep end. “Surely you’ve noticed it,” Shades remarked, taking a quick look around to confirm they were still alone down here, “how they all started getting more and more edgy since we left the island. I know it’s a new ship for them, but didn’t they say they were experienced sailors? They’re tense about something, that’s what bugs me.” “Ya know, I’d like to say you’re thinking about it too much,” Justin replied, “but I think you might be on to somethin’. Is it just me, or has the whole crew been avoidin’ us since we set out?” “Yeah, it does feel like we’ve got the whole ship all to ourselves all of a sudden,” Shades concurred. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but the more I think about it, the less I like it.” “For once, I agree,” Justin told him. “We need to tell the others.” Right about then, they felt a jolt, as if the ship bumped into something hard enough to shake it. “What was that?” Justin demanded. “Don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Shades drifted, staying as still as he could. “I don’t think the ship’s in any danger, or someone would’ve sounded the alarm, but it’s still too quiet for even a close call, don’t you think?” “Yeah.” Justin nodded. “We need a plan.” “First, we should go back to our quarters and get our gear,” Shades recommended. “I feel like we’re being left in the dark about something, so we should let Max know, and try to talk to Maximilian about it in private, as well. Sebastian, too, but definitely not Mercer, not until we know what’s going on on this ship.” They both hovered in silence for a moment, as if sharing the same awareness of the growing gulf of ocean that now separated them from any outside help. “Maybe we should wait for Maximilian to get here,” Justin finally suggested. “Maybe,” Shades answered, trying to keep a lid on the alarms in the back of his head, which only continued to grow louder the longer they talked about this. “If you don’t mind the water, maybe you could wait for him here— you might even catch Sebastian, too— and I’ll go see if I can find… Max…” He trailed off as a trio of figures approached the pool, with that sinking feeling they just ran out of time. Only one of them looked like he was part of the Excelsior crew. The other two armed women looking too much like Cyexian pirates to be mistaken for anything else. Both he and Justin noticed, almost at the same time, one more thing wrong with this picture: instead of being held at gunpoint, the crewmember also held a power pistol, all three of which were trained on the two of them. “Okay, kids, time to get out of the pool,” the man said, pointing to the ladder at the poolside for emphasis. “Play time’s over. Now it’s all business.” Slowly, carefully, the two of them made their way over to the ladder, climbing out one at a time, Shades first. “Passengers?” one of the Cyexians asked him, “I thought you weren’t taking any on this voyage.” “It was just supposed to be the boy and his butler,” the other added. “Couldn’t be helped,” he shrugged. “The kid took ’em on last-minute. I guess we’ll just let that crazy bitch decide what to do with ’em.” “Have a care how you talk about our Captain around us,” one of them warned. “Mercer may have let us onboard, but we run our own show until he hands over the merch.” “Mercer?…” Shades muttered, noting the flash of suspicion on Justin’s face, as well. “You look familiar…” One of the pirates turned to them. “Who are you?” “No one important,” Shades answered, dead certain of the one time and place such a crowd might recognize either of them from. “Don’t get smart with us!” the other pirate warned them. “No more games. Now tell us, who the hell are you?” “Ha!” Justin shot back, already fairly sure where this was going, “Justin Black doesn’t need to give his name to assholes like you!” “But he did anyway,” Shades quipped, winking briefly at him, “because he’s just that generous!” “Dammit, Dexter, don’t you—” “Don’t call me Dexter!” “I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want!” “This is just like that time with the Triad!” “Don’t go there, man!” Their three captors simply gawped at them, flabbergasted, as they both tried to punch each other at the same time. Both of the Cyexians flanking them were too dumbfounded to pull the trigger in time as Justin and Shades missed each other by a mile, stepping past each other and behind opposing captors, grabbing each of their gun hands and turning them on the third adversary, blasting him while he was caught in hopeless indecision. Before either pirate could struggle to regain control of their weapon, Shades and Justin shoved them both into the pool. “They actually fell for it…” Justin tittered as he reached down to pick up the fallen crewman’s power pistol. “Too bad we didn’t handle Kato like that!” “Not sure if Max would’ve caught on. Still, the fact that Mercer’s in on this can’t be good...” “I hate it when you’re right about these things…” “At times like this, I hate being right,” Shades informed him. “But seriously, don’t call me Dexter.” “Kiss my ass.” With that, the two of them set out to reclaim their gear and hopefully warn their friends, leaving the two pirates floundering in the deep end. Both of them now understanding full well what Mercer’s crew was waiting for since they departed Amarrah. Both filled with a dread certainty they already knew who That Crazy Bitch was, as well as where those two must surely recognize them from. Certain now that they had all spoken too soon the other day.