Nightsea Outlaw

"How many more people are you going to drag on this expedition?" Wen demanded, placing one hand on the table.

They were in the galley of a small slipship. It was of a caravel design and had just enough space for about ten crew members below deck. It had two masts for light sails and four lodestones to lift it through the air. With a three-man crew running the ship, they had just enough space for the six-man group that Bibi had assembled. At the moment, though, they were at wet docks on another island, waiting for their final passenger, who would fill the final bed on the ship.

Antonio was in the kitchen, and the warm smell of cooking food wafted out occasionally. Wen didn't know what kind of bounty hunter the man was, but his cooking smelled delightful. Aside from the pay, whatever he was making was already building up to be a highlight of the job.

"The man we're waiting for is very important," Bibi said, crossing his arms. "He's a reporter from the World Daily Press, and he'll chronicle my exploits on the island. Without him, there's little reason to even go."

Wen took a deep breath, sat down, and reminded herself that she was being paid too much to argue. What should it matter to her that they were adding more to the group? She wasn't paying for it. However, everything about Bibi was rubbing her the wrong way. He was a spoiled child in her eyes.

Click. Click.

"While I understand why you want him along, we won't be in the report, right?" Mister Foley asked, clicking his fingernails together nervously. "I don't like being in the limelight."

"Have no worries." Bibi smiled. "The reporter will be there to document my exploits. If you're all in the shots, it'll ruin the image I'm trying to present to my people."

He caught himself for a moment, looking over all of them.

"No offense intended, of course. I merely want to make sure that my people can believe in me so that when I call them back to Diamond Peak, they'll know they can trust me to be their leader. This is also why I'm paying you all so handsomely."

Wen clicked her tongue but didn't respond. She didn't trust herself not to say something horribly correct. She eyed Hopkins, and he returned her stare with his dark brown eyes. He had the same worn look to him as she felt. If nothing else, they were the two professionals in the group.

Thump. Thump.

"Ah, that must be him now."

"Hello?" a woman's voice echoed through the ship, and Bibi's face blanched momentarily. "I'm reporter Kali from WDP. I'm here for a job!"

Bibi's eyes widened when he heard the voice. As Wen watched, he went through the five stages of grief, first denial, his face turning red with anger, his eyes drooping through sadness, tilting back and forth as he bargained before finally accepting the truth.

Wen smirked. She had met people like Bibi before often enough, both on Earth and on Erth. Men who didn't think women could do any work and who looked down on them in private while putting on a mask in public.

"Aren't you going to go greet her?" Wen asked, raising an eyebrow at Bibi.

"Yes, yes." Bibi stood up, his armor clanking as he walked to the stairs, his face turning bright red. "Down here, miss."

"He's a piece of work," Hopkins said, not moving from where he leaned back against the wall.

"So long as he pays us and keeps me out of the paper, I'll take him how he is," Mister Foley said, brushing his whiskers with his fingernails. "He's not the first noble I've worked for."

Thump. Thump.

Bibi came down the stairs again with a single person in tow. Wen looked the woman over as she followed after Bibi, a camera in her hands that reminded Wen of an antique from the early days of photography. She wore a simple white shirt with baggy overalls over it. A flat brown cap covered her head, and long, frizzy hair ran out from underneath to about her shoulder. She was dark-skinned, and if she had been back on Earth, Wen would have thought she was an African. She was young but had a confident smirk as she looked over the group.

"This must be your crack team of hunters," she said, raising the camera to take a photo, but Bibi held out a hand to cover the lens.

"I would appreciate your discretion, miss," Bibi said. "Please ensure that you only take shots of me on this expedition and that your reporting focuses on my exploits. I specifically requested it when I called the World Daily Press."

"Right, sir," Kali said, waiting for his hand to move away before she clicked the camera button.

Click. Kssh.

There was no flash, but Wen recognized that her photo had just been taken. She shook her head as a smile crept across her face. She liked Kali already.

"With that out of the way." Bibi sighed as Kali sat beside Hopkins. "We're good to be underway. If we make a direct line out to Diamond Peak, we can be there in a day. I'll go tell the captain to set the course while you all find something to keep yourselves occupied.

He climbed up the stairs again, leaving the four of them alone with only the sounds of Antonio's cooking to keep them company. Kali looked between the three bounty hunters, her eyes wide as she rested her gaze on Hopkins.

"You're Matthew 'Witchfinder General' Hopkins, right?" she asked.

"I am." Hopkins tilted his head to her.

"And you're 'Cold Shot.'" She turned to Wen. "I always heard you were a guy."

"That seems to be an ongoing problem." Wen sighed, crossing her arms as she rested back in her chair. "I'll have to talk with the association about why people keep thinking that."

"I don't know who you are," Kali looked to Mister Foley last.

Click. Click.

"I'm not as famous as these two, and I'd like to keep it that way." Mister Foley eyed the camera as he clicked his fingernails together. "Might I ask that you do not use any photographs with me in them?"

"I'll do my best," Kali said, sticking her tongue in her cheek.

Wen suppressed a laugh as the ship hummed around them and food sizzled in the kitchen. What had been a tedious chore was now looking more interesting by the moment. She thought there might be some fun in it just for having Kali along on the trip.

Captain Grayson stood on the prow of the Arbiter, looking out over the darkness of the nightsea. He clasped his hands in front of him as he tried to focus on breathing in and out. It was cold, but not cold enough that he could see the mist on his breath. The ship was currently stationed in the first quadrant of the nightsea, the northwest side, as labeled on any map.

So many islands were strewn out in front of the ship—so many options for them to search through to find their quarry. Without any more information, finding which island Ortega had gone to was like finding a needle in a haystack.

Retirement was looking more and more like a distant dream, even with Drake's promise of redemption. If they never found the Robin, if they never returned it to the Military Police, Grayson's career was over. His men might survive the punishment, but his retirement never would.

He took in a deep, calming breath, the foundation of all techniques, whether of the Five Paths or whatever personalized inventions people outside the Military Police created. He closed his eyes with his held breath and then released it, pushing his worries out with it. He would either find the ship or he wouldn't, and he would bear the consequences when they came.

As he stood on the prow, he felt Captain Drake approach him long before he heard him. Through the Path of Will, a user could sense disturbances around them. The key to mastering the path was learning to listen to those hunches without thinking.

"Anything new?" Grayson spat over the railing, turning to face the red reptilian.

"We had a reported sighting." Captain Drake's lizard face hid any attempt to read his emotional state.

Grayson hadn't been able to get a read on the man in the two weeks since they started working together. From their conversations, Drake was from a desert world and not a native to the nightsea. It was rare for offworlders to join up with the Military Police, but Drake hadn't answered Grayson when he had asked.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Grayson grunted. "I'm too old for that."

"You ever hear of Diamond Peak?"

Grayson's main job as a captain of the Robin was ferrying mail and cargo between islands. On occasion, he would transport prisoners as well. While he had seen many islands on the nightsea, he was by no means an expert on every island that existed. He spat on the deck.

"Never heard of it."

"It's an island on the far side of the first quadrant." Drake spat out a puff of smoke. "Due to an aetherstorm, it has been under quarantine for the last twenty years."

"I've heard of those." Grayson snorted. "How long do they last?"

"It was predicted to continue for two decades," Drake said. "The noble family that owns the island ran off for the Twelve Kingdoms when it all started. There shouldn't be anyone there, so I have to wonder why Ortega would choose to run all the way out there."

"Maybe he's going to lay low," Grayson said. "He stole one of our ships. That'll put a lot of eyes looking for him on any inhabited island."

"He already had a million doler bounty." Drake's forked tongue flicked out quickly before returning to his maw. "That wasn't enough to bring him in."

"I'm sure people tried." Grayson smiled. "But a high enough bounty can be protection, too. Who wants to get in a fight with someone strong enough to warrant a million dolers to bring them in?"

"I doubt the bounty office thinks of it that way," Drake said. "They count on greed to drive a person more than self-preservation."

"So long as he stays out of the Twelve Kingdoms, his bounty doesn't matter much." Grayson sighed. "So, I guess I'm wrong. He's not going there to lay low. He could do that on any inhabited island and probably live like a king in some small town if he was willing to take over and cut off the routes out of the town."

"I don't know if he's that type of outlaw." Drake frowned. "Besides August, he doesn't seem interested in taking control of any territory or staying in one place. On Tombstone, he beat another outlaw who was taking control of the town and ran. We tried to catch him there but only managed to recover an agent and send the beaten outlaw to the Clink. On Glory Plateau, reports said he fought in the arena and ran when the Black Spot formed. On Lundao, he stole your ship and ran without killing any of your men. I have no idea what he's planning."

"Planning?" Grayson asked, a grin cracking his face.

"Why else would he have so much of an effect on the world?" Drake asked. "He must have some grand plan to get something. I can't imagine why he would do everything he does if there weren't some grand end goal in sight."

"He just seems like he makes it up as he goes to me." Grayson laughed, remembering his fight with Ortega on Lundao. "He may have had a plan to steal my ship, but he seems more like an opportunist than anything else."

Drake looked out over the ship's railing toward the northwest. He looked like he was trying to see further than any mortal eye could see. Grayson could sympathize. The entire chase after Ortega had him wishing it could all just be over with.

"We'll find out when we get there." Drake hissed out another line of smoke. "Ortega can justify his decisions when he's in leech chains and behind bars."