It took some experimentation for the Sirens to discover the proper uses of these spices, but having done so, their cuisine has improved significantly, to the point that Arkold actually looks forward to getting a chance to dine with the Triton … and this time he has more reasons than usual to celebrate.

It is at these dinners that Arkold is allowed out of his cell to be in the presence of the mighty Triton. Of course, he also enjoys a change from the simple fish caught by Raneah, but more importantly, it is at these occasions that Triton measures out a quantity of the drug he needs, lest he go into urgent withdrawal. Without this drug – as the Triton is fond of reminding him, having noted how desperate the wolf grows when the Triton leaves off too long between hand-outs – Arkold might as well be without life.

But at this dinner, Arkold has a little surprise for the Triton, himself…

As Arkold steps up to the level of the Triton's throne to receive "the favor of the Triton" as the Triton has begun calling the drug, he takes brief stock of his situation. His greatcoat is worn over his armor, which at Maza's advice, he has decked out in medals and decorations stripped from the bodies of the dead, to make it a "dress uniform" which can properly be worn at banquets. Inside the greatcoat is the machine pistol he took from a prince, which bears a map on its handle – and more importantly, though the Triton believes it empty, carries six bullets. These have been hoarded painstakingly, for despite the Sirens' watchful eyes, Arkold has occasionally been able to slip out of their sight and then to unload a few bullets and claim them used to make kills, which in fact he made with his sword.

That sword might have made this delightful moment come sooner, but the Triton is not so foolish as to admit Arkold into his presence with a sword in hand, and so despite that Arkold wears it as part of his dress uniform, it is wrapped about with a peace bond which would take enough time to undo that the guards would surely be on him before he could make good use of it.

The other thing that has made this moment the one in which Arkold will act, is that the Sirens have recently assaulted one of the Lazulian Corsairs' clam-ships under cover of a barrage of sea-ink to render them sightless … and that ship is now not far away, having been stripped of everything the Sirens considered valuable. There are other ships to be sure, but they are urgans, slow things that the Sirens could catch up to, were Arkold to make his escape in them. One of the Nautili, though… That'll do the trick.

So it is that Arkold has reason enough to grin as he steps up to the Triton's throne. The Triton himself looks distracted by drink and by use of some of the drug himself – which affects him far more than it would Arkold, a hardened "user" – and his guards are bored, having seen this ritual dozens of times before. Maza is close behind him, wearing looted finery (and looking like a fine pirate wench) which hide her own improvised weapons, and Raneah and Delah are near the entrance, heads bowed in servile fashion.

Now's the moment – as Maza's reviewed this plan with Arkold so many times before. Grab the Triton, shoot someone or something to show it's loaded, then threaten to blow his head off unless everyone gives him exactly what he wants. And that would be bubbles so they can get out to the clam-ship, and for everyone to back off while they launch it…

Now's the moment. In another minute, the Triton's attention will be back on Arkold and the handing out of his 'Favor'. Or the guards will be looking, and ready to block the wolf from making a grab. Or something will happen.

Now's the moment.

As the Triton, dazed as he is from taking Achtung, sits before Arkold, the large gray wolf's smirk turns into a grin and he acts. The man dashes forward, left arm extended to jerk the Triton from his throne while his right hand pulls his machine pistol from his great coat. The motion is directed to swing the ruler around in front of Arkold, facing away from him, before the ex-noble ex-Legionnaire and hopefully ex-Triton servant moves to pull it up around the Triton's neck in a strangle hold.

"Awp!" the Triton squawks, his expression of bliss changing to horror. "Your weapon cannot possibly be loaded, fool! Guards, seize him!" He struggles, trying to free himself from Arkold's arm, but to no avail. Nearby, the chief guard, a black-haired stern-eyed beauty of a Siren, startles to attention.

Maza tenses, having slipped into a position near the guard, but the golden vixen's eyes are on Arkold.

"Tough luck, gorgeous," says Arkold. His left arm tightens around the Triton's neck, partially strangling him in an effort to keep him from struggling to much as his right hand pulls his large alien weapon to bear on the black-haired Siren guard and he aims at her, then pulls the trigger.

The gun roars, the sound reverberating in the closed confines. KaTHOOM! The Siren guard takes a hit to the side, blood staining her fur, causing her to fall back and release her grip on her weapon – Maza shoots Arkold a "You might have hit me!" look and goes for the spear, rolling to come up holding it with a very predatory look.

The Triton pales. "Guards! Put down your weapons!" he squeaks out.

All around the chamber, Siren guards lower their weapons, looking frustrated. The ones who aren't, who are carrying dishes or waving fans to cause air to circulate about the cavern, shrink back from the center toward the edges.

The large gun is now brought to bear on the Triton's head. "Heh, better listen, or yer gunna have king-alla-gooey head bits in a sec, eh?" says Arkold to those present, trying to sound witty. He prods the Triton with the gun barrel and nods. "Tell yer fishstick flunkies to prepare me, and my hara- … er, Maz and Raneah bubbles. We're leavin' this undersea dump, got it?"

"And grab me a few rebreathers while yer at it," adds Arkold, looking almost thoughtful for a moment.

Delah screeches, "You're choosing her over me?!"

The scarred Raneah glances at her scornfully. It's been quite obvious there's little love lost between the two for a long time.

The Triton's eyes stare at the gun, his nose twitching at the smell of the smoke fuming from its muzzle. "Do as he says!" he commands. Some of the servants hurry off to begin carrying out these commands, accompanied by Raneah, who is presumably going to make sure that they don't attempt to sabotage the bubbles and breathers being prepared … such as selecting wild instead of neutered breathers for use.

Maza stands near the Triton as well, helping to guarantee that even should Arkold be distracted, the golden vixen will be watchful.

"We're gunna take a little walk – well uh, yer going to flounder and I'm gunna walk. Move yer flippers an' follow, or Maz is gunna be cleaning Triton-bits off her fur. An' she hates bein' messy, lemme tell yah," says Arkold. He glances over to Maza and nods to her. "Watch my back." And then the wolf begins moving towards the door and off closer to the exit.

The golden vixen nods and does so, but it looks like the guards are all being good; a bullet travels far faster than a harpoon shot might, and the Triton himself doesn't seem inclined to test Arkold's resolve. The channels cut into the cavern floor would normally allow Sirens to travel at the speed of swimming, but as the wolf has no intentions of allowing the Triton to slip away, the august personage is himself forced to, as the wolf puts it so kindly, "flounder".

Up closer to the main exit from the cave, a large pool which leads into an underwater cavern which would itself exit to the sea, Arkold can now make out the bustle of activity below. Siren servants are bringing around a large jellyfish "bubble", large enough to contain five. The unusually gaudy colors of this bubble suggests that it is used as a "royal conveyance" of some sort.

Delah stares daggers at Arkold, but these do no damage whatsoever.

The Triton, having had time to think, hisses, "How do I know you won't blow my head off anyway, once we get away? If this is how you repay my hospitality, I have no reason to trust you!"

"Think," responds Arkold, prodding the Triton with the gun again. "Why'd you not kill me, when I helped you, eh? 'Cause it suited yer purpose, and now yer life suits mine. And it ain't like yah got a choice! Struggle an' die; do as yer told and yah just might live ta see tomorrow. Yer choice, what's yer life worth?" He continues to hold the Triton in his strong arm, occasionally squeezing tightly to make his point as he talks. When he's done answering, he tells Maza, "Check the stuff when it gets here, eh?"

The Triton looks little comforted by this. "I could order my guards to kill you now, if I am to be dead anyway! I offer you a compromise, Walker. You must intend to escape on a ship. Allow me to bring a guard who will ensure your good conduct. When you are aboard the ship, she and I will leave you and return here. If you kill me… " The Triton's eyes glance toward the gun and he licks his lips nervously. "Well, she will be honor bound to do her best to revenge me."

Maza looks doubtful, but shrugs to Arkold, not having an immediate opinion on whether to take the offer or not. "I'll talk to Raneah," she says, and goes to the edge of the pool to speak with the scarred Siren. They begin inspecting the tools of the escape that the vixen believes they will need.

During this period, Arkold doesn't speak, keeping a close eye on his captive and any guards present. He can make quips later.

"Well? What do you say? Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your safety from any reprisals my loyal Sirens might choose to make, should you choose to, ah, murder me," the Triton says, looking up at Arkold's eyes desperately.

"Eh," remarks Arkold uncertainly, "fine, but I ain't lettin' her bring a weapon. I'll let'cha go when we're outta here and yah can swim back to yer slaves." At that, he strangles the man again for a moment. "And why don'cha try being a bit uh, … nicer to them, eh? Why do they serve yah so, huh? Yer a jerk and they do all yah tell 'em to. Dagh's beard, I'm a jerk an' no one listens to me. 'Cept Maz."

Maza and Raneah inspect breathers, Raneah showing Maza that they have been neutered so that they cannot perform their egg-implanting activities that would otherwise greatly inconvenience any naive person who might seek to use a "wild" breather.

The Triton gasps for breath. "Ahh! It is the way of our kind, Walker, how else should I behave? I am the strongest of the Tritons; my children will be the strongest of Sirens. You are a Walker, and children of yours would likely be just more Walkers. Very well… " He casts his gaze about. "Delah! You will accompany me. The rest of you, remain here and watch for our safe return."

The Siren guards in the cavern nod.

In only a few minutes more, Maza certifies that they have what they need: breathers, the bubble, provisions and water for a few days of traveling, even more bullets for Arkold's machine-pistol. "We're ready," she reports. Her tail flicks – *rattle* – drawing her eyes to look annoyed at her rusty tail-bell.

"Right, let's beat this Dagh-taken soaked city." In a moment, Arkold has dragged the ruler to the bubble at gun point and now stands at edge of the bubble, nodding his head at it once without taking his eyes off the Triton and his chosen Siren guard. "Yer gunna get inside, same with you Maz, and me. Yer guard can come too, eh, or she kin swim. Raneah, yer gunna swim along side us an' help us goin' to the ship. You struggle, an' I kill you, eh Triton?"

"Agreed," the Triton groans. He allows himself to be bundled into the bubble, like a common land-thing, and Maza joins them quickly, followed by Delah. Raneah swims alongside, and flashes a hand-sign to indicate that all seems safe for now.

The bubble-creature moves relatively slowly, compared to a Siren, but for the moment, there seems to be no danger of attack. The Siren guards at the entrance are prevented from threats or hostile actions by the sight of their Triton with a gun to his head, and while the outside Sirens look on, Raneah's words of caution keep them from accompanying the group.

"An' another thing: don't be callin' me a 'Walker', call me uh … " the lupine thinks for a second, " … Cap'n Arkold. Heh, yah, I like the sound of that."

It takes perhaps ten minutes to get to the Lazulian ship, a smallish clam with numerous protuberances about its hull. Tall coral reefs shield this area from observation on four of the six sides of a cube, leaving only up and back the way they came as the ways out. Several gutted Urgans rest nearby as well, but they probably have not fared anywhere nearly as well as the Nautili, which looks as if it even still has a breathable atmosphere inside. It is in the hands of the First Ones as to whether it will move when asked to do so…

The bubble containing "Cap'n Arkold", the Triton, Maza, and Delah glides up close to the clam-ship, which is named in a Lazulian script that Arkold has never bothered learning. From this vantage point, it appears that Raneah has guided them to a lock, which is rimmed by barnacle-like protuberances. She approaches it and touches the controls, causing it to iris open, revealing another door only a short distance inside. Raneah waves to the others.

"Should we go in first, or wait for Raneah to check it out?" Maza says nervously. She keeps an eye on Delah, and the pretty Siren has been giving her a spiteful look in return, when not glaring at Raneah.

"Let Raneah do it. That there area an' control-thinger reminds me of one of them water-lock devices. I had, uh, a time to inspect one back at the ol' base," answers Arkold. He shifts the gun against the Triton's head as he talks, reminding the ruler of the weapon's presence in case he forgot. "Raneah kin survive if it floods or Dagh's luck takes it, eh? If she can't handle it, you go."

The Triton mutters darkly, but the gun's presence deters him from making any more specific complaints.

Maza signals back to Raneah, who nods. More touches on the controls of the lock results in the door closing, and some luminous surfaces to change color from blue to gray. Then after a minute, to green.

Some time passes.

Arkold glances at the ship, then back to the Triton. "This 'ere clam-ship better work, or were all gunna die. Though yer gunna die first, and it ain't gunna be merciful, Dagh believe it," he comments.

Delah shifts uneasily, her eyes on Arkold as if accusing him of somehow betraying the Triton – or perhaps abandoning her to the tender mercies of the Triton. Lacking the power to read minds, the wolf can't guess as to exactly what it might mean.

The Triton says wearily, "It is out of my hands. We do not use such things; they defile the body of Nature herself. Why should we care if they work or not?"

"Hey … Delah?" He glances at the Triton, then her. "Don' think I ever believed you weren't 'is spy. I got it, I knew … " He eyes her meaningfully. "Yah can go back to yer home an' be rid 'o me, ain't you happy?"

The pretty Siren hisses, "You never gave me a chance, did you, Cap'n? Can you imagine what it was like, being with you three, you and Maza and her all cozy and whispering, and me always being sent out on some errand or to bring back supper, so I wouldn't hear what you were saying? You made me feel like the scarred one!"

"An' … you wanted to be part 'o this? Uh, us … ?" asks Arkold, sounding surprised. His ears flick and her glances between Maza and Delah. "I mean uh, you musta know I wus'nt gunna stay 'ere, right? And hey, don't be talkin' about Raneah like she ain't as good as you, eh? I'm the one that did that to 'er, and she was pretty enough before I did. And, uh, she's a great person. Fish. Uh, well, she doesn't act like she's better 'n me and Maz and you."

The airlock's status light, if that's what it is, changes from green to gray, interrupting any reply that Delah might have made. Delah gives Arkold a low-lashed look instead and then looks away pointedly.

Arkold nods once, and looks about to continue, but halts when the airlock status changes. "Get ready, we're gunna head inside if the ship be clear. An' you know the drill: struggle, yer head loses weight," he tells the others, directing the last sentence to the Triton and his guard.

The light changes to blue, and then the door irises open to reveal Raneah. She hand signs and Maza reports, "No one on-board. It still has air and power. I think we're good to go!" She grins, her tail flicking again. *rattle*

"Yeah! Great, uh, tell 'er to push us into the water-lock an do 'er stuff; we're comin' aboard," Arkold tells Maza.

Maza eyes the lock. "I'm not sure that'll fit, and besides, it might kill our bubble, Cap'n. Maybe we should hold our breath and swim for it?"

"I don' trust it," says Arkold skeptically. "Secure my 'breather and yers, and we'll swim it one atta time. Tell Raneah we're headin' out and be ready to attack 'em if they pull anythin'. I'll go last; it may be water, but I kin still shoot 'em at this range from the bubble. Keep yer spear handy and take the guard 'ere over."

Maza considers. "You'd better stay with the Triton, and Delah will help me and Raneah move our supplies into the lock. When we're done, I'll cover the Triton while you and he come out, okay?" The vixen throws a look at the Triton, who simply sulks.

"Tha's my plan exactly, Maz. I knew you were a smart 'un," replies Arkold. He shoots her a big grin, and jerks his head towards the airlock to direct her to begin.

Maza rolls her eyes, then gets started by handing some packages to Delah and bidding her to take them to the airlock. The pretty mermaid glares, then gives in and starts moving the supplies. Raneah almost seems to be gloating as she watches to be sure Delah doesn't try anything "interesting".

"Hey, Triton, while we gotta chance to chat," the wolf begins, using a mockingly friendly tone, "I don' suppose yah know where the pirates keep their base, eh?"

"The Corsairs? How should I – " The Triton recalls quickly his position. "They are clanless Lazulians, and as such, they have no homes. Even the Lazulians themselves drift from one place to another, in a mighty city with many arms. If they have any kind of home, it would be a larger ship, and thus any direction I might give you would be a lie."

It doesn't take too long to move the supplies, and soon Maza reports, seeing Raneah and Delah in the lock, "I guess we can move the Triton now. I'll go first, and cover you two." She takes her spear, takes a few deep breaths, then dives into the water with her spear, then waits there.

Arkold nods, patting the Triton on the shoulder as if they were old pals. "Good 'nough. Tell me about this there clan-havin' Lazulians, and their 'many armed octo-ship'," he continues. He's interrupted by Maza, however, and as she reports he looks almost disappointed that he needs to move on. "Eh, oh well. Tell me inside. C'mon, King Fishstick. We're gunna move." He prods the Triton with the gun again, then pushes him out first before taking a deep breath and following.

The Triton goes along with ill grace, with Maza there to guard him, but nevertheless, Arkold soon has him trapped again. They travel to the airlock and float inside. Nets inside the airlock seem to provide a crude way to secure belongings so they won't be flushed out when then airlock is opened.

Raneah touches the controls on the inside of the airlock and the outside door irises shut, sealing off the outside light. The light inside is a cool blue from some kind of fixture overhead … and then a gurgling at their feet signals the water is being drained away somehow, beneath a small clamshell which seems to be a vent cover.

Air comes quickly as the water level falls, and Maza's gasp is the first thing Arkold hears.

Arkold soon sputters and breathes as well, and despite his time in the sea he hasn't gotten quite used to holding his breath for long periods just yet. He coughs a bit, and looks around. "Everyone 'ere?" the wolf asks.

"You have your ship now, and we can be of no help to you in escaping," the Triton argues quickly. "Let us go, and my guards will not hunt you down as a traitor!"

Delah, Raneah, and the Triton all look rather discomfited, since they are not, being tailed rather than legged, suited to the interior of the clam ship. However, it seems as if everyone has made it safely.

"Jus' a sec, Dagh, yah talk like it's killin' yah to be 'ere," remarks Arkold. He grins widely and prepares to exit into the ship. "I gotta get inside 'ere first, then yah can go."

Raneah touches the controls again, and the door inside opens. It reveals a curious sort of ship; unlike the open wood-beamed interiors of the airships that Arkold knows well from Sinai, or the organic interiors of the Urgans, this ship looks like a cross between the two, surfaces made out of coral within and covered by shells here and there, or shaped into smooth curves elsewhere to frame chambers. The airlock would appear to open onto a chamber which forms the cargo-carrying part of the ship, and which has a ladder leading up to a smaller central chamber which itself accesses the other parts of the ship.

Arkold yanks the Triton into the ship and drags him to the edge of the airlock where he returns to holding the other man steady with his gun to the man's head. "Maz, go an' check the controls. Get this 'ere ship movin' so I can get our pal the Triton of my ship, eh?" the wolf directs the vixen. To the Triton he says, "Jus' a moment more. Once this thing's movin' and we're outta 'ere, I'm lettin' you go."

Despite several attempts by the Triton to twist into a position where he can somehow get out from under Arkold's gun, the wolf's reflexes are quick enough to remind him of the futility of doing so, and it isn't long before he is just sullenly shuffling along with Arkold. Maza shinnies up the ladder, and Raneah and Delah start moving supplies into the cargo hold. The central chamber is more like a bubble atop the cargo hold, but opens into several staterooms for the crew, two rooms fore and aft (which Maza reports looks like some kind of machinery or magic she hasn't seen before), and another ladder goes up to the bridge … from which her voice can be heard to report, "Looks like we have power! Straight up, cap'n?"

"Careful of that coral, Maz; we can't afford to be hittin' it now. Take 'er slow. Once we're clear, bring 'er to a slow cruise so I kin let our passengers out and we can be gettin' outta here," says the wolf. He gazes around the ship, grin growing into a wide smile as he takes in the sights of his new ship. Well, his and the others' ship, but he'll think about that later. "I always wanted a ship."

"Aye aye, cap'n," Maza's cheery voice calls back. A low warbling begins to fill the ship, and then there is a lurching as it tilts, sloughing off mud and sand that has drifted onto its hull. Raneah staggers, forced to grab onto one of the nets along the side of the cargo hold for support, as does Delah.

Arkold staggers several times, and almost loses his hold on the Triton several times, but manages to barely keep a hold of the other man in a feat of luck. "Whoa, heh, stop yer squirmin'. Even if yah did get free 'o me, yah ain't exactly got the upper hand 'ere unarmed an' without the sea saltin' yer tail," the wolf warns the Triton.

"Bah! It is humiliating to a Triton to be forced to go about on dry land," the Triton hisses, his nose wrinkled in feline disgust. "I should never have trusted a land-creature to serve… " He shakes his head.

Maza's handling is a bit erratic since she's not used to piloting Nautili, but after the initial difficulty of lifting off the sea floor, the ship seems to be rising steadily. "Looks all clear!" she calls.

"Hear that? Maz jus' gave me a one way ticket to whine-free ville, and heh, yer not welcome," remarks Arkold without sympathy. He nudges the Triton with his gun and calls out, "Raneah! Get Delah and put 'er in the water-lock; we're releasin' her and her Triton."

Raneah nods, then motions to Delah, who works her way toward the airlock in high dudgeon. Her glance back at Arkold is heated.

Once Delah is inside the airlock, Arkold moves the Triton to the threshold, then promptly shoves him into it. He levels the gun at the two in the airlock and nods, telling them, "Can't say it's been fun. I'll jus' be takin' this 'ere ship as mine, you know, as payment fer my service. It ain't free anymore – but I am. I ain't no-one's slave," His eyes narrow, and his finger moves closer to pulling the trigger – but he stops. "Eh, take a hike. Raneah, flush 'em."

Raneah snorts, as if she'd have liked it if Arkold had pulled the trigger, but does as he says. The light over the airlock goes to gray, and a small window allows Arkold to see the Triton apparently exchanging harsh words with Delah, who replies in kind.

"Dagh take 'em," mutters Arkold. He waves merrily at those past the window, then turns to walk off. "Sorry, Raneah … couldn't jus' kill 'em standin' there, 'specially not Delah. I mean, uh … it ain't like I gotten soft or the water logged my brain or anythin', it's just eh … Eh, never mind."

Raneah shrugs.

"Looks like we'll be up on the surface soon," Maza calls brightly from above. "I never thought the sky could look so good!"

The large gray Jupani pauses for a moment, looking around to remember where Maza went until she yells to him, then moves to climb the stairs. "Raneah, try'n find yerself somewhere comfortable. I dunno how yer gunna manage these ladders but 'eh, we'll manage right? Just us now. You, me, Maz. And I ain't lettin' anyone mess with our lives again … you count on it. Yer part of this crew now," he tells the Siren as he climbs up.

"Thank you, Captain," Raneah says. She makes her way over to some of the nets, where some of the ship's supplies were stored, and starts setting up a hammock.

"You got it, Raneah," says Arkold in return. He grins to himself as he pulls himself up to the bridge to take a look.

As the wolf climbs up the ladder to the center, he can finally see into the two machinery rooms that gave Maza confusion. The one to the front seems to have two large tubes that connect to the outside of the ship's hull, and have some kind of mechanical gadgetry surrounding what might be hinged covers for the sides of the tubes. The other… Well, there's a black pearl mounted amidst a host of other gizmos, from which a warbling noise can be clearly heard, as if it were vibrating.

Arkold pauses on his way up, staring at the black pearl. "Whoa," he comments in surprise. "Ain't that … uh … complicated." He ponders how to manage such complex machinery, then gets an idea. Maz kin handle this stuff. He then nods to himself, and continues up.

The bridge looks almost like that of an airship, with maps on a table, and windows shielded by some thick clear material looking out into the sea, which is as promised, showing a reflective surface above that would be the surface, slowly approaching. The exception is that the ship's wheel, an object which Arkold would recognize, has been replaced by three intersecting wheels which seem to be made out of brass-rimmed wood, suspended in a cage that lets them be rotated freely. It is these on which Maza is keeping her hand, and her other on one of several levers. The vixen looks in better spirits than she has in months, as the light becomes brighter.

"Eh, Dagh's right tooth," curses Arkold as he looks around the bridge.

"What's the matter?" Maza asks.

The man reaches up and scratches his head, then frowns. "I was hopin' for a captain's chair. Somethin' with a arm rest and uh, leather seating." The wolf holsters his pistol before walking over towards Maza.

The golden vixen laughs. "This isn't a big enough ship for that!" she says. "If you really want to feel like a captain, here, take over holding the wheel! This lever, the one I'm holding, is to lift us left and right, that one's for our speed. Just turn the wheel to change the direction we're facing. Got it, cap'n?"

Arkold offers a poor excuse for a salute, little better than the ones he used when he was still a legionnaire. "You got it, Maz. Or should I say, uh, First Mate Maza? Er, maybe Engineer Maza. Wha'cha think?" he responds. The large man reaches over and takes the controls, looking a bit overwhelmed in the face of technology more complicated than his pistol, and carefully eases the wheel to turn the ship slightly looking as if he's afraid to break it.

"First officer," Maza offers. She hovers close.

The clam ship turns a little … and as Arkold hasn't seen fit to change the lift lever, continues to rise. The surface draws ever closer.

"Works fer me," says Arkold in agreement. "Guess this is the end of my harem. Eh, guess yah can't have it all." He notes the approaching surface and lifts an eyebrow, reaching a hand over to ease the depth lever a bit to try and not hit the surface too fast.

The clam ship levels out a little … and starts to breach the surface slowly, the water level falling. Beyond is a sight Arkold had feared he might not see again: the sky, laced with fleecy clouds, and the endless waves of Ashtoreth's ocean.

The surface of the clam ship is visible now, showing a rather striated surface typical for clams, except that this one is a lot bigger than any clams that Arkold has ever seen on Sinai. There are two depressions near the front, about where the tubes he saw in the fore room earlier would have met the shell, and between them and close to the bridge, a large shell looks removable, probably protecting some kind of machinery underneath from the waves. A hatch on the top of the bridge provides access to the topside of the Nautilus.

Light pours through the windows of the bridge, and a sigh of sea air accompanies it.

"Whoohoo!" the golden vixen yells, throwing her arms around the wolf. "We did it! We're out!"

Arkold mock-cringes as the vixen hugs him, momentarily taken by the show of celebration. He eases the controls to an even steady at the surface and wraps an arm around Maza's shoulder. "Couldn't 'ave done it without yah, Maz. And, uh, hey … I'm uh … really … kinda … " He glances out the window, turning to watch the waves crash against the ship. Their ship. "I'm, really glad yer here and uh, things went the way they did, instead of the, um, other way."

The golden vixen grins. "Well, I was beginning to think death would be preferable to more of the same dishes. I want to go back home and have some rughrat steaks now!" She pauses. "So what are we going to name our ship, Cap'n?"

"Uh," says the wolf, uncertain. His brow narrows and he thinks for a moment – a moment which becomes a rather long moment as he sifts through ideas.

"The Golden Vixen?" Maza suggests helpfully.

"Somethin' … fearsome, maybe," offers Arkold. "Dagh's Teeth?" He considers the name as he looks at Maza, frowning at her offer and giving her a look, and offers something else. "Freedom? Scarred Siren? Golden Traveler?"

"Your choice, you're the captain," Maza says with a wink. She looks over the papers and maps, and the instruments, as if she's had a sudden thought.

As Maza looks Arkold, burdened with the task of being creative, returns to the controls and ponders out a name. "Yah know, these ships hover. I dunno how to get it to do that, though," he mentions as he ponders.

"I don't know, either, but I bet we'll figure it out if we play with the controls some more," Maza confesses.

"We better jus' get outta 'ere. I'm going to increase speed and get as much distance as possible," says the wolf. And thus, he does so, increasing speed slowly.

Arkold, having another idea, offers, "Xanthous?"

The song of the ship grows louder, and waves begin to break higher against the hull. The ship slowly breaks free of the pull of water, rising slowly … and that, it would appear, is how it works: once free of the water, the lift control controls the ship's height. The Nautilus begins to pick up speed.

Maza looks bemused. "What does that mean?"

"'Ey! Look, I got it to fly, what do yah know!" The wolf looks positively pleased with himself, grinning widely as he gets into the act of steering. He increases more and adjusts the ship's altitude a bit to avoid hitting any more waves. "It means yellow, like, gold. See? Told yah I was a noble once."

"Oh! Well, I don't know," says Maza. "I don't want to have to explain our name too many times! Just one problem, anyway, Cap'n: I have no idea where we are or which way we're going, and even if we were somewhere on these charts, I couldn't tell you how we could get back to Gateway Island!" The golden vixen looks sheepish, realizing there was a part of the escape plan that she and Arkold somehow managed to avoid thinking about all this time – not, most likely, that there was anything that could have been done about it.

And on the subject of forgotten things, it occurs to Arkold that his supply of drugs was left behind, in a casket next to the Triton's throne – back in the Sirens' lair. He'd forgotten all about it in the excitement and tension of keeping the Triton under watch. If he can't get more somehow…

Arkold's expression drops suddenly as he remembers his drugs, and learns there's no way back to the gateway. "Ferget home," he says darkly. "We gotta prepare this ship here fer battle, if necessary. I ain't got what I need here, Maz, and we're gunna run outta supplies soon. We gotta find a port, or a merchant ship, or somethin'. I … I gotta get my stuff, Maz." The man turns around, one hand on the controls. "I'll think of a name, don' worry. We … jus' gotta find a way to keep ourselves goin' till we can get home. What's yer opinion on piracy?"