Dead Star Dockyards

"What are these?"

"I've been told that they are Cataberries, sir. They are supposedly a luxury fruit used in the production of various wines and meads."

"We don't have the facilities to brew alcohol here, why did you bring them?"

"Uh, the bar on . . . Nectar, didn't have the capacity for brewing equipment, so it was suggested that we bring them here to be put for sale. It's the same with a few of those boxes over their." Pongratz pointed to a few crates behind the one currently being inspected. 

"Well, uh, Diana?"

"Manama will probably take them. In the case she refuses, I think she would be more than happy to direct us to someone who will."

"Wonderful. Next box." Donovan stuck his sword in the small gap between the lid and frame, pushing down to pry it off. He was met with a cloud of brownish green dust, eliciting a coughing fit as it overtook him.

"That would be the sitrice."

"What does - cough - What does it do?"

"It tastes better than gruel. Sailors usually coat their provisions with it when they have the luxury." Pongratz carefully closed it so as to not push any more of the dust out. "We don't have any need for it with the provisions we are provided. This one box is about a small nation's worth of supply."

"cough - Well it - cough - Well it burns like a motherfucker! - cough cough - My lungs are on fire!!!" Donovan immediately regretted opening his eyes. 

"Don't rub your eyes, Donny. I'll go get some water." 

"Please, let me retrieve it."

"No, it's fine, I want to look around a little bit. I've never been to a place like this before." Diana lifted Donovan's chin to get a look at him. "Hmm. Your eyes are a little irritated, but it doesn't look that bad. I'll be back in a jiffy." She then kissed him on the lips before sauntering off to find water.

Donovan took a seat on the crate of sitrice, calmly exhaling in a bid to prevent another coughing fit. No longer fighting for air, he found that the taste of the powder was actually pretty good. It may have been a little overwhelming given how much of it he had taken in, but it tasted fruity. Sweet enough to make pleasant, sour enough to make you savor it. It reminded him of a Citrus fruit.

"I feel the need to congratulate you."

"Why's that?"

"That wife of yours sure is a beauty. No disrespect, of course." Pongratz recognized that Donovan wanted to pause their inspection for the moment. Likely out of a desire to raise his standing in the eyes of his new superior, he decided that light conversation was the best course of action. "Please don't take my words to be that of my brother's, I try to disavow and distance myself from him as much as I can, but she really is something. Kind, intimate, dutiful, gorgeous, if I didn't know what the two of you had gone through I'd be jealous that you seemed to have it all."

"Ha! Yeah, I suppose that's true." Donovan disguised a cough as a laugh. "In all honesty, I still don't believe I'm worthy of her, so don't go asking for advice. How a soldier boy with no experience with women managed to capture her heart is completely beyond me, so I wouldn't be any help. I just know her grandfather had something to do with it."

"Her grandfather?"

"Yeah, I trained under his supervision for about half my life. He drove me like a slave, pushing me further and faster every hour of every day. At the time I had no idea it was because of-" Donovan vaguely waved his hand around while he cleared his throat "-this. I honestly thought he had it out for me until our last few months together."

"Half your life . . . you didn't live with your parents?"

"Didn't have any. Well, I didn't have anybody I considered parents at least. I suppose in the end he was kind of like a father, maybe, but I don't think I can say I know what a father is supposed to be."

"Ah . . . my condolences." Donovan merely nodded in response, Pongratz realizing a bit too late that he had probably heard that too many times. "In that way, I guess you could say that we are in the same boat, sort of. My brothers and I were left on the doorstep of a Holifanian church in one of the Theocracy's protectorates, probably because they were too poor to care for all three of us. We were given to a family who were struggling to conceive, though our adoptive father died when we were still pretty young. Mother spent her life raising the three of us with help from the church, but died before we reached the age of adulthood."

"Damn."

"Well, that's certainly one way to sum it up . . . please don't tell the other two that mom wasn't our real mother. Right now I'm the only one who knows."

"You have my word. I don't plan on getting involved in your personal lives."

"Thanks." Pongratz shifted around to a more comfortable position. "Anyways, we collectively decided to enroll in the navy under the 'foreign relations' subcategory because it sounded interesting. Apparently that meant 'espionage' and we were just too dumb to realize. We got assigned a hard ass of a mentor we lovingly refer to as 'Sepp' or 'Sepps' just to piss him off, eventually applying for a spot to receive education at the Sanctum after deciding we had enough of his pestering."

"Oh, yeah. I hear you three graduated at the top of your year."

"Eh, wasn't that hard. Most of our competition were either the children of merchantmen or those nobles who couldn't make the cut for one of the armies. We had a few competitors, sure, but they tended to be working alone while there were three of us."

"A little bit unfair."

"That's war."

"True."

"Yeah, so, after graduating, we got raided on our way back. After turning the tide and dispatching their captain, the pirates decided they would give us a shot after some fairly convincing persuasion on behalf of Lebenstrum. Nothing hostile, just an expression of our skill and backing."

"Let me guess, you decided that you wanted to become pirates instead of having to deal with this 'Sepp' again?"

". . . how did you know?"

"A feeling."

"Ha! 'Feeling' my ass." Pongratz scoffed and tried to come back with a better retort before realizing how what he had said could be interpreted. "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

"It happens."

"Thank you."

"No problem . . . how about the weapons test?"

"Pardon?"

"The weapons test. The demonstration." Donovan had decided he wanted to change the topic. Pongratz's story was nice and all, but Donovan couldn't really find the energy to focus on it. "Your damage assessment? Of those ships?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Completely fucked. All of them."

"Even the one's I shot at from long range?"

"Yep. All of them had a at least one hit on the forward or bottom quarter. Given how landings are performed, any instance where the hull is compromised in those areas can result in a catastrophic failure in the bow or keel and they sink or break. With holes as big as those, they would be nigh impossible to patch to a sufficient standard for landing."

"And aside from that?"

"In general, our assessment is that one shot should be enough to debilitate a ship of standard make from further than the distance you claimed. We didn't really come to anything concrete, so I would increase the distance by about a third or so."

"Jeez." Donovan looked through squinting eyes at one of the nearby ships. "Are they really that fragile?"

"I wouldn't call them fragile. 'Lightly Constructed' is probably the best way to put it. Most shipyards don't go overboard on the reinforcement for the bow an hulls in order to save on weight. In the long run, it tends to be cheaper to just replace a failing board or reinforce it at a later date. The downside is that the crew can't do much to save their ship should something happen in transit."

"And they accept that?"

"Given the nature of the void, pretty much anything that can damage your ship will also either destroy it, or kill you. Pirates, void dwellers, surprise asteroids, void storms, foreign powers - anything and everything up there that isn't you or your friends poses a substantial threat. We try our hardest to not be that danger, we find it makes negotiations with our captives and their families easier, yet we often end up killing a few anyways."

". . . sounds tough." Donovan really wanted him to expand on all of the other stuff, but he held his tongue. "I can't say I have much experience in the realm of pirates and the like, but I have no doubt that I can make the, um, Void Sea, right? I have no doubt that I can make it safer."

"Oh?"

"Sturdier hulls, high fidelity sensors, reliable communications equipment, and routine patrols. Already I can think of more than just a few ways that I can drastically improve the quality of life that people will enjoy in my territory." 

". . . how 'routine' are these patrols going to be? I can understand the rest, but I don't know how much those are going to help. The Theocracy generally only sends out patrols about once a month on the most populated routes, yearly for the rest."

"Daily."

"Daily!? Are you trying to bankrupt yourself?"

"Not at all. Once I get the ball rolling, the ships I plan to produce can be operated for next to nothing. So long as they aren't opening fire often or overdoing it with the sensors, the three most expensive maintenance costs are expected to be crew salaries, sustenance, and cleaning supplies."

". . . you're joking."

"I'm dead serious. From what I've been told, fuel isn't a concern anymore. Fatigue and incidental damage is similarly insignificant." Donovan could tell Pongratz didn't believe him. "You know what? You'll see when it gets started."

"Yes sir." With that, the two of them fell silent, neither really knowing how to develop the conversation past that point. They had lost that vague sense of informal rapport.

Slowly, the insecurity began to close back in on Donovan. It was embarrassing to screw up their talk like that, and he couldn't help the feeling that there were people watching him. The sitrice in his eyes meant he couldn't exactly look around to verify, but he was certain that nobody found him interesting enough to stare at.

"Donny, head up." Donovan felt a hand on his chin, lifting it up. Moments after obliging, a cold trickle of water lands on his eyes. "Start blinking a little bit."

He fluttered his eyelids to get remove the bits of powder underneath his eyelids, a greater volume of water being splashed onto him as a result. His eyes burned a little bit more as the powder dissolved, but it wasn't unbearable. The real kicker was the nausea inducing blurry vision. It was dissipating fast, thankfully. The view he got of Diana did remind him of their first meeting though, he was just as blind then as he was now.

"Drink." Donovan accepted the cup thrust into his hand and gulped it down. Given the fact this sitrice stuff was eaten regularly by sailors, it was safe to drink. 

"Is that . . . soda?"

"What did you say?"

"It kinda tastes like a lemon-lime soda." Donovan clarified his finding to Diana. "I mean, its flat, and it isn't as sweet as the stuff we are used to, but it has that same sort of taste."

"Really? Pongratz, may I please have a pinch of it?" The cup practically flew out of his hands, the sound of water pouring into the artefact followed shortly afterwards. His vision cleared up enough to see her throw in a dash of that powder and swirl the cup around a few times before bringing it to her lips and throwing her head back. Donovan couldn't quite make out her expression when she finished, but he could hear the light smacking of lips. "Mm, I would say its closer to lemonade . . . maybe limeade in this case. I think we might be able to recreate the real deal with some syrup and a carbonator though . . ."

Donovan could hear her building excitement, she wanted to see soda back on the menu. 

"I think the Pegasus' kitchen could be modified slightly."

"Thank you!" Diana threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and smothering him with kisses. "Oh I love you so much!"

"I love you too." Donovan wiped his eyes in the break between smooches. "Let's uh, let's get a move on. I don't want to be here all day."