It is daylight now, and the days have grown longer as the airship has continued its journey into the southern hemisphere. The tropics have been left behind, along with landings on isolated paradises dotting the Stygian Sea, in order to replenish supplies before the craft ventures out of the warm lands of the southern summer, and into the realm of ice. The continent of Aeztepa is faintly visible as a line on the horizon to the west – Though great care is being taken not to venture too close to it, it would be too great of a detour over cold waters that would kill a man in minutes, to get out of sight of it entirely.

Sukara leans on the railing on the Aeztepa side, looking out across the glittering sapphire sea, to the dark and misted Land of the Dead, shrouded by a blanket of gray clouds that seem bound within the accursed land by some invisible barrier following the same lines that define the coast. Closer, the sky is crisp blue save for wispy white streaks that stretch across the highest altitudes, and scattered clouds, the bottoms of which float a few hundred feet overhead. The bat's hair seems to be made of the same stuff, as the air whips her bleach white locks about, playing games of peek-a-boo with her ice-blue eyes and ebon features.

Her robes are far more neat and orderly now – no longer intentionally loosened here and there to make her attire so baggy as to make her even more androgynous than bats often seem to other sapient mammals. Instead, her robes of black and blood red have a simple, severe and conservative design to them, designed for travel, not for flamboyance and showmanship. The splints and bandages on one of her wings detract considerably from the overall look, however.

After all, with as many canines and rodents on the crew as there are, even with the captain keeping mum on his "discovery", it was a poorly kept secret that "she" was a "she", but this is a well-disciplined crew, and there haven't been any incidents. And, for her part, though she may be a priestess of Sunala, she hasn't yet attempted – to anyone's knowledge – to bring harm to the crew.

It is the last day of the six thousand, one hundred and fourth year, according to the Rephidim Temple Reckoning. There isn't much planned in the way of a celebration – just a special "feast" (read: stew) put together by Chef Thistletooth, utilizing some game caught on the last island, and an assortment of fresh vegetables harvested from a large sky garden. Doctor Whitewhisker took care to inspect it all to determine its suitability for the crew, and gave it the thumbs up.

Elijah rubs his hands together as he finishes tying down some supplies in case the air gets rocky. His hands and arms have been bandaged too keep them from blistering from the work, and also to keep his palms warm. He gives the ropes a few testing tugs and then nods, satisfied with his handiwork. Once that's finished, he walks over to join Sukara at the side of the ship. "Seen anything interesting, miss?"

"'Seen' is not quite the word," Sukara replies, still facing the accursed island. "It is more what I sense." She looks aside to Elijah. "I had been told that the Land of the Dead was a place of only corpses, animated or otherwise. But there are people living there."

The Vartan tilts his beak towards the mists of the shore. "That may depend on your definition of 'living'. I've seen creatures of Aeztepa that I suppose were alive as animals are, but not very friendly. Monsters of Bosch have heartbeats as well sometimes, but they still are only kept alive by the magic around them."

The rat cook strides across the deck, whistling merrily through the gap between his largest two front teeth, then finds a spot where he stops, pulls a telescope out from his jacket, extends it, and starts scanning the horizon … not in the direction of Aeztepa, however.

Sukara shrugs. "I only know what I sense. I suppose that there are many sorts of life, and some more worth living than others." She turns about, her back to the railing. "It's a gift of the Quiet Lady, to be able to sense life and death. This ship has seen much of it, and it is not so very old."

The rat lets out a shrill whistle. "I see sky gardens!"

"Aheh," chuckles a patchy Khatta. "I don't know that the Captain would want us to take another detour just so you can keep garden-picking." The two of them are a fair distance away from Sukara and Elijah, speaking loud enough to be heard over the wind whistling past the landing deck, but not close enough to be eavesdropping.

"It was a battleship in the war, although she'll be retired soon, no doubt." Elijah gives the railing a pat, like an old friend. He squints his eyes in the direction the cook is looking in, curious to catch sight of something besides clouds and waters and the land he hates so much. "Can you feel life and death in people as well?"

The priestess's mouth quirks in a faint smile. "Yes, that I can do, though it would require some deliberate effort on my part to notice anything but the most strong and strange of auras."

"I don't know if I could stand such a gift myself, being able to feel someone who might be responsible for the deaths of thousands and not be frightened, or someone who may have healed as many lives and trying not to gape at them in awe." The Vartan taps his finger-talons idly against the railing, creating a light staccato to mingle with the other sounds of the ship.

"Part of being a priestess of Sunala is to be subjected to my worst fears, and to learn to deal with them. Those who cannot are not worthy. It is not that I should never feel fear, but it is not something that I allow to cripple me, and dissuade me from my purpose." The priestess turns to look back across the waters again.

The rat wanders over to the captain, and exchanges some words with him.

"I think the cook's trying to convince the captain to make another sky garden stop. We'll be eating melons the whole way if this keeps up," Elijah chuckles to himself. "And what is your purpose, Sukara?"

"To acquire information for my mistresses," Sukara says. "It is a task far more suited to others, I should suppose… " She shrugs. "… but who am I to question my superiors?"

The Vartan looks down at the Eeee. "Have you ever thought that you were sent here because you were the most expendable? I've been in situations like that myself quite a few times."

"Of course," the bat answers. "It would be wasteful to send someone more valuable than myself for such a hazardous mission."

The captain can be seen to shake his head, throwing up his arms. The rat, meanwhile, whistles cheerily, proudlymarching off to the stairs leading back below-decks.

Elijah hmphs. "And it doesn't bother you that you were laid out for the sacrifice like that? I can't see how you could hold your order in such high regard if you're nothing but a disposable tool to them." His eyes follow the departing rat. "I think we may be stopping at another sky garden, or at least the cook thinks we are."

The bat shrugs. "To Sunala, we are all ultimately disposable. It is the way of things."

"So why bother at all?" the Vartan scrawks.

The sky gardens can now be seen with the unaided Vartan eye … There's a cluster of them, actually, blown along in a loose group. They're actually rather large ones. Aninexperienced airship crewman might mistake them for small sky islands.

"Because it is my duty," the bat says. "I have chosen not to shirk it, and I have chosen to face the inevitability of death, rather than to hide behind comfortable fantasies."

Elijah's tapping tempo changes a bit, slowing a beat or two. "You sound a great deal like a soldier, but you would be the type of soldier that I would fear most on the battlefield… the one who would spear his blade through his own chest if he could injure the enemy standing behind him." He frowns. "I am not as loyal as you. If my master wished me dishonored and dead then I would consider getting a better master. I would understand such ill treatment if I was a poor servant, but if I did my best, and returned time after time when I was sent out and expected to die… it wears very thin after a time."

"And who is to determine ill treatment?" Sukara asks. "There is great honor in the warrior who serves an abusive master, but is true to his pledge. Those who are fooled by life think that he is the fool, for dying in the service of a master they deem unworthy. But we all die. No matter what we might do, what powers we might wield, Sunala will take all of us in the end, and then She too shall unite with oblivion. It is vain to think that there is anything gained in prolonging one's life a second longer, for its own sake. What is within our hands is to choose the manner in which we die."

The captain pulls out a spy scope, regarding the sky gardens the airship is slowly turning toward.

"Why serve a master who does not want you? Would your loyalty to Sunala be as strong if you managed to fetch some shred of information from us and took it to your mistress, only to find another priestess credited with your discovery and found yourself being mocked and pushed away for only doing what you were commanded? Why play a hand that the body is trying to saw off?" The Vartan shakes his head. "I am probably not making much sense; I fear this is far too personal for me to judge with the right level of coldness. I hate my former master, and there are few things in this world that I can say I truly feel that way about. The feelings are just particularly strong for me here because I am so close to the only other thing I can say that I truly hate."

Sukara turns toward the Vartan. "And that would be … ?"

Elijah jerks a thumb towards the misty shoreline. "Aeztepa, the land and the land's ruler."

Sukara turns to follow Elijah's gesture, then looks back at him. "Well. I suppose we have that in common, then."

The captain frowns, lowering his telescope. He walks over toward the doorway leading to the command cabin, and reaches for a pull-chain, and rings a bell. "All hands! All hands to stations!"

"Perhaps. I despise her because she has hurt many people I know and care about, and she took a great pleasure in tormenting me and my – awk?" The Vartan's ears prick up. "We may be better off to continue this conversation another time."

The visible crew members respond in various ways, some of them looking as if they're wondering if it's just a drill. The captain starts calling out orders, and the airship stops turning toward the sky gardens, and starts turning, instead, away. Just then, a large section of foliage sloughs off one of the sky gardens, and plummets downward, toward the ocean. There's something underneath that isn't vegetation. It looks like the surface membrane … leathery and darkened … of a dead waashu?

The brown hippogryph starts checking to make sure everything is secured and takes his post at the ropes. "Careful… those things can explode after they've been dead for awhile, and the smell of the gas will make you wish you were dead too."

The crew scrambles onto the deck, and soon they're at battle-ready. The engines are putting out top capacity, to increase the ship's speed … but it looks like the sky gardens must have some means of propulsion as well. More vegetation sloughs off … and it's soon evident that there are four airships of fairly small classes. One of them is, amazingly enough, suspended from a lumpy "envelope" consisting of multiple waashu carcasses bound together, with a gondola that looks like it's put together from salvage. The other airships look more conventional, but have a similar patchwork appearance about them … and they fly flags that are variations on the traditional skull and cross-bones of unabashed pirates.

"Sukara! Get below deck and lock yourself up in my cabin!" The Vartan gets his gunblade out. "We're outnumbered; I suggest we try to cripple their ships and outrun them."

Sukara bows. "I will keep out of the way, then." Shestrides over toward the steps leading below-decks, swerving here and there to avoid crewmembers.

The captain paces over to Elijah. "If you have any tactical expertise, I'm open to it. These look like short-range airships. They must have a base nearby … an island, perhaps, or maybe a sky island not on our charts. They aren't made for long-distance travel. Personally, I estimate that we could take them on, but not without considerable damage to our own vessel … enough to severely jeopardize our capability to make the rest of our journey."

"I'd rather not limp to the Sanctuary, especially since they might not have the means to help us on our way home. In such a large number they may try to herd us into an ambush or someplace where they can overwhelm us better." Elijah loads some bullets into his weapon. "My advise is to open this ship up for all we have and continue on our planned path; don't fire until they shoot first, but if they do choose to attack, then focus your shots on the center ship. Their leader is probably on that one, and the smell alone from the exploded carcasses should distract them. If youhave any fliers on this ship, have them get ready to repel boarders."

The Vartan ponders for a moment. "Sir. How well do you know the cook?"

The captain frowns. "Personally? Not greatly. Why?" Then, realization dawns on him. "I'll have someone check on the cook." He snaps off some orders to a crewman, whosalutes and rushes below-decks. Then, he heads up to the helm.

It looks like the airship suspended by waashu carcasses is the slowest one. The other three are passing it up. It looks like they're moving to intercept the Vigilance.

Elijah nods and walks to the bow of the ship to observe the pirate vessels. ( Hopefully the cook is the only one. ) "Get some flares and some fancy shots. Maybe we can intimidate them by making them think we've got some heavy firepower on us. Fireworks will be fine if we happen to have any." He looks up to the captain. "Sir! Is there a cloudbank or some mists you can fly us into? Something to make us harder to keep track of."

"Good idea!" The ship starts to climb in altitude, to reach the scattered clouds.

There's a *poof* from the lead ship, and a cannonball whistles through the air. It flies over the airship, not even a close shot. It does, however, demonstrate that the other ship has a potentially very long maximum range. How far it's effective would remain to be seen, however, until it actually hits something.

"Looks like the gauntlet's been dropped, get ready to return fire, gentlemen." Elijah aims his blade at the lead gondola.

Ballistas are cranked and readied. The ship is fairly light on gunpowder weapons, since it has actually had to go down to the surface on occasion, and hasn't an ample supply of the higher quality gunpowder that can be counted on not to explode when you look at it cross-eyed at lower altitudes.

At last, Elijah is pretty certain that he's got a clear shot.

The Vartan squints, not really liking the idea of firing after a warning shot, but if they had honorable intentions they would have sent a messenger instead of a cannonball. But he won't be a coward either, and there's no need to give the enemy a chance to start picking key targets while he sits. "Fire at will, men! Watch for fliers." And he snaps off his first shot.

The ships have moved into a good enough intercept path that they're at the moment closing in … making Elijah's shot that much easier. He manages to send a shell hurtling through the air. It impacts on the envelope, with enough force that Elijah can see it … then punches through. It explodes somewhere on the undercarriage, indicating that it must have made an exit hole as well. The crewmen follow the Vartan's lead, and let loose with their volleys, while the Black Lancers get ready on their rakhtors, though they don't yet launch – since there's no way they can keep up with the craft, and that would only be a suicide maneuver to hold off pursuers, or a defensive gesture if the airship is crippled. Meanwhile, the airship continues to climb, and the view both ways is less clear, as the lower reaches of the clouds whip by, obscuring vision now and then. The other craft appear to be climbing as well, though not so sharply.

Elijah whips his weapon towards the gondola of one of the other ships and fires another shell off while he can still see the ships.

The shot isn't as carefully aimed, but he nonetheless manages to make the shot. Just before vision is obscured by white clouds, he can see a satisfying flash, and bits of debris falling from the ramshackle vessel. He also, however, sees several fliers disembark from the ships. Some of them look like Korvs, perhaps some Vartans … and some Eeee, who shouldn't be greatly hampered by the lessened visibility at all.

"Captain, try to jerk us to the side if you can! No reason why we should be where they think we'll be. The rest of you keep hammering at the ships and any fliers you see that don't look like ours." He reloads two shells into his weapon and spreads his wings. "Any available fliers come with me and protect the envelope. The Eeee have the best chance of making it there, and we need to keep them from hacking it to ribbons." He launches himself into the air and starts to fly above and slightly behind the ship's gondola.

Elijah has to launch himself forward, as once he's free of the shelter of the landing deck, he has a hard time keeping ground on the airship – at least, on the horizontal plane. If the enemy fliers are going to intercept the ship, they'll have to do so with the advantage of coming in from the fore … if they miss, they'll simply be left behind, except in the event that the engines are disabled, so they can catch up. The rakhtors launch from the ship, their powerful wings giving them the most purchase to keep up with the craft at least long enough to circle to the top, and to grab onto rigging, taking up defensive positions.

The Vartan's wings flap madly and he grabs at the rigging himself, settling into a proper spot. He keeps quiet and scans the clouds, looking for anything that might pop up.

Fortunately, the clouds are not so thick that it gets very dark – He can still tell which way is up, and can pick out the sun through the "fog". He can also spy a dark shadow that is almost a blur as it zips in toward the ship at a speed made only possible by the airship's own forward momentum. Several other shadows move in, and Elijah isn't the only one to see them, as the Lancers and the ship's own compliment of fliers (some Wimmers and Vartans) brace to intercept them.

The Vartan holds his weapon at the ready. "Here we go… "

With shrill battle-cries, the attackers and defenders clash! Shadows swipe by the airship, and though some of the Wimmers and Vartans let go of the rigging to intercept them, a few manage to cut slices in the outer skin of the envelope. Fortunately, being a battleship, this craft has multiple gas modules, netting, and several countermeasures so that a tear won't widen by itself, and there should be ample time to make repairs before it has a noticeable effect on the craft's buoyancy.

An Eeee happens to zero in on Elijah's position, its range-finding cry making his ears ring in an advance warning of the attack.

Out of the corner of Elijah's eye, he can see that clashes are also happening on the two side-envelopes, though there's no chance to make out just how the initial exchange is faring.

Elijah launches himself from his perch, making a roaringbellow of a battle cry. He swings his blade at the bat swift and hard, hoping to use the frailty of the Eeee to his advantage.

The bat doesn't stand a chance. Its attack was based on an overconfidence in an element of surprise that simply wasn't there. The bat is cleft in twain, both halves quickly lost in the rush of wind, leaving only a red spray that makes a mark running across Elijah's blade, sword arm, face, and a section of envelope behind him. The other Lancers seem to be similarly having a fairly easy time of whatever opponents they can actually reach, while the rest of the fliers are fairly evenly matched. Before Elijah can do so much as recover and find a new target, a second shadowy form slams into him – a Vartan. The force is such as to knock the blade free from the grip of Elijah's attacker, but Elijah himself manages to keep hold of his own gunblade. Nonetheless, Elijah's attacker still has sharp talons.

The Vartan knows it may cost him precious distance from the ship, but it also seems to be the best and swiftest way to deal with his attacker. Abruptly the Vartan snaps open his wings and brakes for a moment, the tip of his blade jutting out from under his arm as he tries to use his momentum to skewer his opponent.

Elijah's attacker has just enough time to regain his senses and realize his predicament, but not enough to actually do anything about it. What follows is too gruesome to retell in polite company, but Elijah is no longer quite so brown, and what is left of the other Vartan disappears into the clouds, along with the bat. A shadow looms … One of the rear struts connecting the central envelope to the rightmost envelope is cutting through the clouds, near Elijah's current position.

The blood spattered Vartan flaps his wings to try and gain speed again and soars over the strut, angling his flight to try and get to the right envelope to help with the clashes there.

A tern Wimmer tumbles through the air past Elijah, bleeding from a nasty gash. He can see the shadow of a Vartan clinging onto the rightmost envelope, bracing on the rigging, using his jagged sword to saw determinedly through the skin and netting.

Elijah's hand curls around his blade to brace it and he dives, intent on spearing the Vartan while he's focused on the envelope. Likely the envelope will fare better if he accidentally spears it with his blade while stabbing the attacker than it would if left to suffer at the pirate's hands the way things are now.

It largely goes how Elijah expects it. His blade thrusts through the Vartan, who lets out a loud scrawk of alarm, baffling the air with his wings and flailing vainly to reach back at the sword that pierces him through. He lets go of his weapon, however, and falls free. There is a small tear where the sword pierced all the way through, but it doesn't tear any of the netting, and is nothing compared to the work the attacking Vartan had done before Elijah happened to get there. A side effect of this is that Elijah manages to fairly effectively stop his motion by pinning into the Vartan, and to get a good hold on the rigging before the other Vartan is done away with.

Frowning, Elijah pulls his blade free and kicks the body away. He holds on to the netting, weapon at the ready, as he looks for the next attacker.

There's a whistle as a projectile sails by. The other ships must be firing blindly into the clouds, hoping for a lucky shot. The ship jolts … suggesting that perhaps, somewhere, something did manage to impact. Elijah hears cracking, splintering noises, and a chorus of shouts over the din of airborne battle. At once, he sees several shadows leap up and off of the envelope, whipping off and into the clouds.

"Why are they leaving?" Elijah murmurs to himself. He clambers across the rigging until he's at the front of the envelope and then launches himself into the air again, trying to make his way to the central section of the ship to see what took the damage.

As Elijah makes his arc, he is able to see quite a bit … the forward right strut is heavily damaged, several of the connections broken in twain, and several cables snapped. It rocks violently, subject to a resonance that seems to be building under the duress of the ship's own forward movement, as it struggles to break the line of its assailants with hopes of pulling free and away. Elijah also notices a shadow looming ahead, and closing quickly … one of the enemy airships!

There's not much time for a decision, either try and secure the forward strut or deal with the attacking airship. He decides on the latter, as the Eternal Vigilance is battleship enough to not break apart just yet. Repairs can be done later, best to focus more on making sure that the ship doesn't suffer more damage now. "Eyes forward, men! They're trying to box us in! Someone get that strut secure!" He flutters down to try and find a secure perch on the central envelope and takes a shot at the approaching ship.

Another shot rips through the air and the mists, rupturing the envelope of the closing ship, even as it comes close enough to be properly visible. Given its sheer size, it has the illusion of not closing upon the Vigilance so quickly as the winged attackers, but Elijah's eyes are keen enough to alert him that it is coming in at a dangerous pace … but not one meant for a head-on collision. Spurs jut out from the ship, which seems to be fashioned expressly for the purpose of a very close-quarters attack against an enemy vessel, and he can see that the undercarriage is almost vestigial in its construction, little more than engines to propel the craft, and frames for fliers to cling into. However, his shot happens to hit what little undercarriage there is, and the solid resistance provided by the engine sets off the charge. There is a brilliant flash and an explosion, followed by a greater, secondary explosion as the fuel tanks of the enemy vessel explode.

The Vartan can feel the heat against his feathers, and flaming bits of debris hurtle through the air. The ship jolts dangerously, as the damaged strut flexes to a degree to snap a few more supports, but there are already a couple of Wimmers and a Vartan furiously working to secure some of the flailing cables, despite this newest development.

( For all my complaints against the Temple, they still make really good ammo. ) Elijah flattens himself against the envelope and folds his wings protectively over him as the wave hits. After it passes, he peeks his head up to take an assessment of any signs of further pursuit.

Several more shadows pull free, disappearing into the clouds. Elijah briefly catches a glimpse of another airship-sized shadow … but the Vigilance plows on past it. Unless the other airships have been saving their best acceleration for a sudden surprise at the end, the Vigilance has broken free of its pursuers. There are still sounds of clashes, but as it becomes evident that the attackers are now outnumbered, those without opponents move in to gang up on those lingering too long.

Nodding his approval, Elijah flies down to the damaged strut to lend a hand in securing it again. He promises himself a good bath when this is over, although depending on what role the cook had with the pirates, he may end up boiling his own water for it this time around.

Some time later, the Eternal Vigilance limps along, this time skimming along above the clouds, in hopes of offering it some cover from being spotted by anyone down on the occasional island. Spirits have been damped quite a deal by the losses suffered by the crew, and there are many wounded. The cook is locked in the brig, insisting his innocence, but lacking any way to definitively prove it. His story is that he was hoping to get more food stock before the ship ventured so far south that nothing would be growing. Certainly, there's nothing to prove his guilt, after all, but the captain is in a very dour mood right now, and not inclined to take any chances.

Doctor Whitewhisker has his paws full, tending to the wounded. Elijah has managed to come through with nothing more than scrapes and bruises - superficial enough that he hardly even noticed them during the fight, and can't recall exactly when he got them (aside from those on his back that could be attributed to that run-in with the cloud-blind Vartan).

The right envelope has been re-secured, though not as sturdily as would be ideal. The vessel has had to drop to three quarters its normal pace, while the engineer watches to see how well the repairs are holding. At least patching the envelopes was fairly straightforward by comparison.

Elijah sits quietly on the railing, rubbing a brown rag across his blade as he cleans off the remaining flecks of blood from it. His own mood is dark as well, although he keeps it buried lest it mix in with the other crew and make hopes worse. Instead he simply focuses on his work of cleaning. At his hooves is a whetstone to sharpen the blade once it's properly polished.

The priestess walks up, her footsteps announcing her approach before Elijah can see her from the corner of his eye. "If you would free me from the restrictions you have placed on me," Sukara says, "I am capable of assisting your wounded."

"You may use healing rituals; just be careful of any Vartan crewmembers." The gunblade in Elijah's hands tilt so that he can see the Eeee's reflection in the blade. "You may heal yourself as well."

Sukara bows. "It will be done as you say, with no twisting of your words, Sunala as my witness." Then, she straightens. "Have you any wounds that need treatment?"

"A few scratches, but I would prefer to let those heal on my own. When the pain vanishes too quickly, you sometimes wonder if the battle was real or not." He tosses the rag over the side of the ship and pulls out the whetstone.

Sukara nods. "I understand perfectly. I will leave you, then." And with that, she turns and strides purposefullybut without rush toward the stairs leading below-decks.

The Vartan slides the stone across the edge of the blade. "Are you alright, Sukara? The ship was jolted quite a bit."

The bat pauses. "I will be all right, after I have tended to my duties. I am capable of performing them. If you have more healthy hands on board this ship, then perhaps they can mend your vessel all the more quickly, and it will not jostle quite so much. Then, we shall all rest more easily at night."

"That is not quite what I asked you." Elijah looks up. "Sunala beautifies death, but today you saw me painted in blood and people you saw whole and healthy cleaved into pieces. Are you alright?"

Sukara's face is turned away from the Vartan. "It has happened before. I am no less 'all right' than you."

"For what it is worth, I'm sorry. I, of all people, have no right to say such to you… but I have been in enough battles to know that it never gets any easier, and what little token I can offer is yours. If you want to be alone, or don't want to be alone, let me know." The Vartan moistens the stone and appraises the edge of his blade.

In the reflection of the blade, the back of the bat's head can be seen to nod quietly. "Certainly. Shall I tend to the wounded for now, then?"

"Please do, but don't get in the doctor's way if he seems to be bothering you. I'll be in my cabin after I finish up here. If anybody questions what you are doing then send them to me." Elijah goes back to scraping the edge of his sword again.

"All right," the bat says, then strides down below-decks, leaving Elijah alone with his sword and his thoughts. The sky is darkening now. Time has passed, long enough for the airship to put considerable distance between itself and the site of the conflict – at least, in physical terms.

The Vartan blows on the edge of his blade and eyes it a second time, this time nodding his approval and putting the weapon back into its sheath. He shakily stands and looks out over the water to see if Aeztepa is still in sight. ( When the Order is restored, I think the first thing I'm going to see about organizing is a siege against the pirates here. )

Aeztepa is only faintly visible … save for points of light that suggest fires dotting the distant shore.

Captain Bevel walks up, breaking the relative silence first with his footsteps, then a sigh. "You gave permission to the priestess to help with the wounded?"

Elijah looks up. "Yes. If there is concern about any specific magic she may be casting, I can go and observe her, but all she intends to do is heal."

The captain nods. "Just wanted to be certain of that. Doc Whitewhisker will check on any work she's done, all the same – when he has the chance, that is." He lets out a long breath, which crystallizes in the air, then gets dispersed by the winds rushing by the open sides of the landing deck. "I can't be certain just what to do with the cook. I can't really figure a good reason why he'd side with a bunch of pirates out here in the middle of nowhere. He could have just as easily made us all sick, and made us unable to fight so well, by putting something in the chow."

"Does he have his own quarters? I can search through them. There's also the matter of questioning anyone who may have come along with him that may know him better." The Vartan scratches his neck. "It may be innocent, but if it is then I'd much rather be safe."

The captain nods. "I have to agree. Meanwhile … I'll have to see if anyone else can cook. Whitewhisker is a strict vegetarian … so we can't count on him to pick up for the stew. Eh … I'll find someone who can dump everything in a pot and stir it around. I'm not asking the priestess, though." He shakes his head. "We're limping on southward. It'll be slow, but we should still be able to make it. We didn't lose any fuel, after all, and no damage to the engines. We lost several hands. It's been a real shame of a way to end the year, but we pulled through. And thanks. That's quite a weapon you have there. And quite a shot, too."

Elijah pats his gunblade. "I got it on Abaddon, and I've had plenty of time in the war to get good with it, but that last shot was just extremely lucky. I am dearly sorry for your losses though. They were all very good men." He looks towards the wake of the ship. "Do you know where they might have hailed from? Everything was so ragtag and patchwork that I couldn't quite tell."

The captain shakes his head. "I'm guessing an island base, just like I figured earlier. None of the crew indicates that there were zombies amongst the attackers, and I really don't suppose the pirates would be so bold as to park themselves on the shores of Aeztepa. But … hmm … they were using gunpowder. I don't think that would agree well with a base on the surface, unless they go to the trouble of keeping their gunpowder airborne on at least one ship all the time, and ferry to the surface. Complicated, but that sort of thing has been done before."

"Any idea what they might have wanted?" Elijah looks at the twinkling fires of Aeztepa. "I wonder if Amenlichtli is changing her tack and getting mortals to help her. She was doing something similar when I was in Ur several months ago. The priestess sensed living people there."

The captain shakes his head. "We might have wandered too close to their base, and they thought we were a punitive force sent to deal with them. They might have spied us and sprung an attack, hoping to pillage our vessel, take its engines and anything else of value. Or, for all I know, they could have been servants of this 'Amenlichtli'. We didn't manage to capture any of the attackers alive, so short of going back, I don't see how we'll ever know. One thing is for sure … on the return trip, we'll take our chances with the coast of the Savan."

"I quite agree. I would rather not take this route again on the way back myself." The Vartan shakes some of the chill from his feathers. "What will you do when the ship returns to Rephidim? I… er… have heard the rumors about you being forced into retirement."

Captain Bevel's mouth closes grimly, then he says, "It's bound to happen eventually." He looks askance to the Vartan. "I do intend to make it back to Rephidim, and with the whole of the rest of this crew, First Ones willing. Then, I can negotiate on the particulars. I'd be just fine with retiring … so long as they retire me off to a fine ship with a fine crew, with clear skies and a favorable wind."

The Vartan smirks. "Retiring to almost exactly what you're doing now. Sounds rather like what me and my family may end up doing." He scratches a bit at his robes. "Do you know how much of a delay the damages will put on our trip?"

Bevel shakes his head. "That depends on what the engineer tells us about how the repairs are holding up. If they do well, he'll increase the output further, until he finds the most we can go without risking shaking the struts apart."

A mutt walks up, holding a couple of steaming mugs. "Hot cider for you, sirs," he says. "I'll try not to burn water, but at the least I can bring you a hot drink, eh?"

"Best to take it easy, I agree." The Vartan stretches and then gratefully accepts the cider. "Thank you – which reminds me that I still need to search the cook's cabin. I doubt I'll find anything, but maybe I can find enough clues to prove that he's not a spy instead of discovering a poisoned dagger under his pillow."

Bevel sips at his own mug, nodding. "Same here." He looks out. "Not much of a celebration tonight, I'm afraid. No matter. We'll make up for it later." He pats the railing, as if comforting the ship itself, then strides back up toward the helm.

"After I got the news of the boomer I've never really cared much for the new year; too many bad memories." Elijah drains his mug in a rather impressive gulp and hands it back to the mutt. "But regardless, happy new year to you, Captain." He bows and heads towards his cabin. ( Happy Yew Year Pouncer, Enos, Father, Inri… )