TheAmishPirate

Breathless Dead

“No. No. Stop that. On your feet, you’re going to put a crick in my neck.” Vasilia waved her up impatiently. “And no, it certainly does not please me. We’re too few to start making heroic sacrifices just yet. Besides, if the shuttles spread out their landings at all, you won’t stop more than one. Right now, all I’d like from all of you?”

She braced herself at the helm.

“Is to hang on.”

And sent the shuttle into a nosedive.

“Dolce, my dear?~” She sang out, knuckles white on the throttle. “Would you find us something dangerous?”

“There’s a boulder that’s not a boulder, at…” He blinked, staring through the foliage whipping against the viewscreen. “10 o’clock. Fifty five degrees portside.”

“Wonderful!” She cackled, and they were off. Flitting through the trees, engines burning as hot as they could, and buzzing creature after creature by a hands-breadth. By the time the sleepy monstrosities had gotten themselves upright, their shuttle was long gone, and all they could see were the Imperial shuttles high above, firing loudly and flying in a straight line.

[Rolling to Overcome the nonsense from the forest: 5 + 5 + 2 = 12]

Breathless Dead

“I had a poor first impression of your former king, and now I find him possessed by a burning need to outdo his own foolishness.” Vasilia remarked to Galnius. ”If they’re so bored that the only way they can entertain themselves is wasting ammunition, perhaps they ought to save us all the trouble and blast each other to smithereens. It’d be a more worthwhile target.” She sniffed indignantly; a touch so subtle, everyone in the room could hear it.

“They’re not trying to hit anything.” Beside her, Dolce cut through the quiet like an icy scalpel. “They’re shooting just to shoot.”

With every blast, he drew a little calmer. Stood a little more still. Beneath his snow-white coat[1] she could see the tension building. How each mark on this miraculous land tore at his heart. How his gaze pierced the shuttles ahead, straining to see how they could do such a thing? How could they be so cruel? How could they not see the wonder of this place? How? How? How?!

She rested a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. Carefully, quietly, that no one but he and Aphrodite could tell, she pressed into his wrinkled vest and massaged gently. Soothing the aches of his heart. Pulling him back to the moment. Back to her. Do not fall into that abyss, my love. You will find only grief there. “And we will make them pay for their indiscretion,” she affirmed, and gave him one last, loving squeeze. “Now then; we have little time, and high odds. Galnius, if you have any insight into King Jas’o, now would be the time to share it.”

[Rolling to Look Closely: 5 + 4 + 1 = 10
-Tell me about the shuttles. How could they hurt me? How could they help me?
-Tell me about Jas’o. What are they doing? What will they do next?
-What will happen if we separate Jas’o from his soldiers? (Clarification: I know that Jas’o can’t be harmed or distracted when he’s surrounded by his soldiers, so I’m mainly looking at this from the other angle, getting the soldiers distracted, harmed, or otherwise out of the picture.)]

***

[1] How Dolce found the time and opportunity to clean his wool between the engine room and the hangar is a mystery best left to the scholars.

Fellowship: The Heart

How does she feel?

Her throat is burning up from the inside out. Every time she takes a breath, it’s a fight between coughing up a lung, and doubling up clutching at her bruised chest. She tastes sickness and acid and no amount of spitting will clear it away. She can’t wipe at her eyes because she already wiped at her mouth. Her paws reek. There’s...fighting? Somebody’s fighting? Coleman’s fighting, and she needs to get up. She’s soaked to the bone, she needs to dry her things. Ailee’s looking at her, and she needs to say something, and, and...

And just a moment ago, none of it was. And with each passing second, she loses hold of her peace, and cuts herself on familiar thoughts gripped tight. They needed somebody brave and strong and smart, and all that woke up was Jackdaw.

The word is lost. That is how she feels.

Numbly, she rummages through her cloak, and pulls out a short stick of polished wood, not much taller than her paw. She holds it close, and hoarsely whispers

“De...fend…”

At once, it sprung to life, growing several times in size and whipping through the air with a life of its own. It batters and prods at the Amalgamation, striving to keep it away from Coleman.

She already knew it wasn’t going to work. She didn’t need to see it fail.

But today was not a day for small mercies.

[Rolling to Keep It Busy: 4 + 1 + 1 = 6 It is a bad day for Jackdaw.]

Breathless Dead

Yes, yes, time is of the essence, is it not?

After all, you can only borrow so much.

With the fires out, and her uniform back to presentable, Captain Vasilia took the long, lonely march to the hangar at a fast walk.

****************************************************

From the depths of settling chaos, Dolce emerged.

His vest was horribly rumpled, and would no doubt take a good ironing to get back to its former glory. Not to mention a few washes to rid it of that smokey flavor. He stepped lightly, wary of any more of Ares’ surprises, and dutifully ignoring the litany of scrapes, bumps, and burns that covered him from head to toe.

Then, he spotted Alexa amid the wreckage, and dashed over without a second to lose.

“Oh! Your shield.” All splintered and wrecked! And hardly enough time to put it right. Oh dear, oh dear. “The next time we stop, it will be someplace we can fix it.” He assured her, patting her arm with a warm smile.

Breathless Dead

It would be an immature amatuer who laughed at a time like this. The Lupincas - immovable, invincible - cracked in two, split by the largest javelin ever thrown, guided true by technicolor waves of stardust, and she was to, what; throw back her head and cackle like a wild animal at the thrill of it all? Really now, she had more composure than that. Besides, Jas’o wasn’t even here to hear it.

Captain Vasilia doffed her hat, swept out her coattails, and dipped low in an immaculate bow. “Fare thee well, oh great king. A pity we could not provide an opponent of your caliber.” She straightened, and smirked, and...sniffed, catching the undeniable odor of an entire room burning.

Right. Yes. Not a good time to catch fire too. Best take care of that.

****************************************************

This wasn’t that different from the kitchens.

You see, that plasma fire? That was just like a flambe gone a little wrong. The screaming pressure valves, those were just like when you’re in the middle of chopping vegetables, and your water starts boiling, and your rolls only have seconds left in the oven. And the shaking deck, well, if you had to mop up a nasty spill, then sometimes that left the floor quite slippery, and you had to be careful where you stepped. Oh. The falling pipes. Those were...it didn’t happen often, but your rack of pots and pans could come loose, right as you were focused on your stew, and you had to get out of the way in a hurry. The giant gear that just sprang loose from its housing and nearly ran them all over, you see, that one…

He’d have to think about that one. But when he did, he was certain that it would be almost exactly like working in the kitchens. Thus, all he had to do here was what he did there when things got out of hand; run, vault, leap, swing, man the dials, fix the pipes, don’t linger anywhere, he’s forgotten his oven mitts, everything’s burning, don’t you dare lose your count, get to the oven on time, and eventually. Eventually! He’ll run out of fires to put out!

“Attention, crew!” Vasilia called out from the pipes, and what was that hissing noise in the background? Was that a hose? “I am so very pleased to report that the Veterosk has been completely disabled, and Jas’o’s forces scattered. Once you’ve put yourselves back together, report to the hangar; we still have a Princess to save.”

A frazzled bleat escaped his lips. Eventually...

[Rolling to Overcome with Daring Devils: 6 + 3 + 1 = 10.]

Breathless Dead

That’s...disappointing.

For all the Hermetician was dedicated to their work, for all the skill they showed, they didn’t look like they were enjoying themselves much. Much the opposite, they just looked angry and upset all the time. This was just like that time with the Azura, only there he’d been able to help matters with a carefully-timed stew. Hermeticians weren’t known for their conventional appetites. If they still ate at all anymore.

Still, that did explain the bullet holes and he was helping. (Was Vasilia alright? She sounded unhurt on the pipes. He would have to check on her when he got back to the bridge.) Dolce dutifully followed the shouted directions, taking great care not to repeat any mistakes.

****************************************************

She did not feel the ship move.

This was not the ruthless jerk of a Boarpedo, nor the dizzying dance of a Plover. The debris around them simply started floating backwards, as if caught in a gentle breeze. The retreating star before them stopped shrinking as Jas’o himself fought against the headwind. But it was useless. Only the Plousios was still. Only the Plousios was immune. The breeze became a gust, the gust became a squall, the squall became a gale, the wreckage of World-Eater’s fall scattered and dashed itself on their prow, and the light! The light! The light of the Vesterok drew ever-closer, filling every viewport, brighter and brighter until the star shields cried out in searing agony.

And she was unmoved.

“Ladies and gentlemen; do brace for impact.”

Plosuios, faithful Plosuios, carried her to the star’s heart.

[Rolling to Finish a gosh-danged warship: 3 + 4 + 1 = 8]

Breathless Dead

Vasilia worked the crank on the viewport’s star shield. Dim panels of crystalized shadow lowered with each turn, slowly cutting the light from the bridge. It was dull, drab drudgery so easy that she couldn’t remotely work up a sweat, with a device so carefully worked that it was impossible to go any faster than ‘painfully slow.’

Dolce called it good thinking work, and she hated how often it helped.

When she could survey the scene without getting blinded, her mind set to work while her hand ran on autopilot. This was quite the mess, wasn’t it? Redana’s stunt hadn’t bought them time so much as it had exchanged one impossible problem for another. Now instead of fighting outnumbered 150-to-1, they had to outmaneuver a fully-staffed warship, get to Redana first, and then fight outnumbered 150-to-1. Oh, and find a way to shatter the Lupincas while they were at it. To be frank, she hadn’t even gotten as to escaping. Perhaps if they made it that far, the Armada would take it as an omen and leave.

No, no, not good enough. That simply wouldn’t do. Not the escaping bit, that was a separate bit of unacceptable, but the situation. It truly was impossible. There was nothing she or any of them could do.

So. If that fight was unwinnable, which one could they win?

More importantly, what was winning, really? The Lupincas must break, that was for certain, or else Poseidon would never permit them to leave. They had to reach Redana, yes, but more importantly, if they could prevent Jas’o from reaching her, that was just as good. Better, even. If they crippled his ability to mount a coordinated chase, then they also crippled his ability to bring his forces to bear on them. They could scoop Redana back up and be gone with ease. If that was all they were after, then…

A devilish smile grew on her lips.

Then do we really need to outmaneuver him?

“Everyone: I want maximum power to the engines, as fast as you can give it to me.” She commanded through the pipes. “Stand by on steering. Our adjustments will be slight, and our heading vital.”

She eyeballed the line between their prow and Jas’o’s burning engines.

“We’re only going to get one shot at this, and we need to make it count.”

****************************************************

Waiting.

Waiting was...very good. Helpful for all sorts of things.

Waiting let him come to terms with the fact that not only had he not been gobbled up by an unspeakable vent monstrosity, he was (probably) not about to be gobbled up by an unspeakable vent monstrosity. Waiting told him that he ought not to call the creature tearing through their ship an unspeakable vent monstrosity, though it didn’t tell him what he ought to call them instead. (It was a Hermetician, yes? There were a few of those with the Privateers.) Waiting showed him it was actually tearing the ship apart so that it could put it back together again a little better. Waiting gave his ears blessed time to stop ringing, which was very nice for listening for Vasilia’s signal.

Waiting very often did not let him down, and this time was no different.

He gingerly lifted himself upright, a tangle of cables tumbling down his front. “It was Hades’ ship before he lent it to us. It would have been rude to ask.” Idly, he started sorting out the piles of scrap wire and parts they were casting aside, even catching a few bulbs before they shattered. Maybe it would help. It’d be easier to clean later, too. “Could I ask you to speak quieter, please? I can hear you well, and I’m listening for - oh!”

He perked up, listening to his Vasilia’s commands.

“Excuse me, I must help get the engines running. If you could focus your work there, I would be glad to lend a hand.”

[Using Heroes of the People to automatically Speak Softly:
-What can they tell us about getting our ship moving?
-What do they want, and how could we help them get it?
-What should I be wary of when dealing with them?]

Breathless Dead

“Ha ha ha, you know, why don’t we sort out the particulars later?” Vasilia twirled her pistol away from her crewmate’s head and tucked it casually in her jacket, where it would no longer be pointed directly at her crewmate’s head. Had she mentioned how strange it would be to shoot her crewmate in the head? She’d thought she wouldn’t have had to bring up the topic, but neither had she thought she’d have to deal with an entire Grand Armada when she woke up this morning, so perhaps it was just a day for unpleasant surprises. The skittering in the vents sure supported that theory.

“Everyone!” She turned on a dime and addressed her rag-tag crew. “We have a Princess to catch, and the only advantage to our name is that no one expects us to move, much less succeed. I want all of you on engines and steering. Alexa, show them the way. Dolce ought to meet you there.”

****************************************************

It was not the harmless creaking of an old ship. That was for certain.

It was difficult to say, but if Dolce had to guess, the banging was metal on metal; many small limbs against something large, probably the vents or one of the piping systems. On average, interval of less than a half-second...no, a third of a second between them. The echoes were changing tone, but not swiftly, so probably something with a great many small limbs instead of a few small limbs moving fast. The rumblings and - oh! And screeching. Screeching too. The rumbling and screeching were independent of the other noises, independent of its movement.

Like he said, it was difficult to say. Too many bad things it could be.

Do you know what he could say? They’d be moving soon. Vasilia would need him and the rest of the crew to man the ship’s systems. If they could man the ship’s systems, she could chase after the Princess. And if she could chase after the Princess, then they would get the Princess back. So...so no matter what sort of noises were coming from the ceiling, the floor, and several of the walls, the best thing to do was to stay right here, at his post, and listen very hard for the orders he knew were coming.

Yes. Nothing he could do at all but wait.

Wait...and listen.

Breathless Dead

Vasilia was still. The cannon was not.

It was a large thing. Worthy of the name. Half as big as her, covered in whirring gears, leaking some hideous green concoction that ate into the deck. It hardly seemed the spindly limb - straining and twitching - could lift it, and yet here it was, and here she was, and they may well have kept at it until Alexa stepped between them.

The cannon drew off of her. And it was all the opening she needed.

Vasilia stomped the worn deck with her heavy boots, and flipped a loose panel skyward as the cannon wheeled back and took the shot. A dripping cloud of vitriolic toxin ate the metal instead of her, melting it clean in half. With a sweep of her hand she snatched one of the falling chunks of metal and hurled it at Iskator, center of mass. They swayed, under and around, arms twitching and waving wildly but never once losing balance. The spent cannon whirled away. The flicker-flame took its place, and-

*BANG*

Sparks flew from the arm’s joint, and it fell limp. But then came the caustic perforator, and-

*BANG*

And it too fell useless. The cannon, by now reloaded, took the fore and-

*BANG*

Vasilia shot true. Step. Shoot. Step. Shoot. Limb after limb spun to her, and each one fell before they could strike.

With a hideous, grating shriek, Iskarot took aim once more. All of its eyes watched the flicker-flame swing by on a broken arm.

*BANG*

And finally - finally - Vasilia had a clean shot at a leg. The remaining two legs scrabbled furiously for purchase, but to no avail. Down went the arsenal. Down went the bundle of rags. All in a great, deadly heap on the floor.

Captain Vasilia knelt by the wreck, turning her pistol over idly in her hand. Grimacing, as she saw the barrel already choking on its own fumes. She had not broken stride once.

“Counter-offer: You work alongside our engineer to repair and maintain this ship. We make a stop at the first Hermetician outpost or ship that we pass, and no manipulating our course. You will be allowed to go and work as you please, but must heed the orders of your ranking officers.” A tilt of the head to her crewmate. “Her name is Alexa. You will treat her as you would any member of the crew. Your study of her may only continue with her direct, willing, and uncoerced permission. And…” Her voice turned to ice. “...you never do this again.”

She flashed him a perfectly bright, perfectly cheerful smile to the newest member of her crew, that was in no way connected to the loaded firearm in her hand. “Do give your answers to Artemis, won’t you?”

[Rolling to Overcome: 5 + 1 + 1 = 7, paying 1 Ammo to get the 10+ result.]

Fellowship: The Heart

the world is q u i e t

all is
still

she
can

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