“Space Race: aftermath”
Clarissa Esriel Astor, Director of the United Cosmic Military, skimmed through her notes one last time, wanting to make sure she was as clear as possible about the situation. Suicides were not uncommon following the Space Races, if a particular gambler or business had been especially ruined by an embarrassing loss, but they were usually committed in private. The sudden death of subject Derian Kazcada, successfully identified by Kyle Ozmund and military forensic specialists, was a rare exception, and a grisly one at that, and standard procedure demanded that an investigation follow. Due to the bizarre circumstances leading to Derian’s demise, however, the entire crew of the Dauntless was called in as a witness, as well as Mr. Ozmund and Shandra Hill, who submitted their own reports. Astor believed she had every angle covered, but wanted to be certain.
“Well, if there is nothing left to discuss, I’d appreciate it if everyone here leaves their signature. Your identities will remain secure and you will not be further questioned without my authorization and your consent. Needless to say, I’d like to keep this matter as quiet as possible. I don’t believe I have anything else to say, so if you feel the same…”
“I think that’s everything,” Kyle said stiffly. He got up and scrawled his name first, gave Astor a stern look, and walked away bleakly; Shandra Hill mimed his actions to the letter and walked away in a hurry, presumably to collect her bounty. The Director sat patiently as everyone else stepped up to complete the process: Herut, Chandra, Shana Suing, Valti Brignor, Riene Latoli, Kate Shepherd, Naja Elapidae, Rebecca Hill, Eve Kasberry, Kayleigh and Teleah Acheron, Allegra van Landingham, Lillianne Markus, Aseria Guardea Tolan, Vimmy Fonester, Mink, Kyrie Lastgear, Yenae Marliir, Alala, Sharyn, Athena Sifr, Fuuka Fujiwara, Lyara Tanith, and Amy Miracle. The room was deathly silent as the women filed up and stated that “the following is true to the best of my knowledge”; the tension was so thick that Chandra refrained from flirting with the Director when it was her turn. Then again, it’s not every day that you watch somebody die like that--and to think that Derian chose to end his own life rather than face the consequences of his actions…
“It’s unfortunate this had to happen,” Clarissa stated once she acquired the twenty-five signatures. “It truly does seem as if someone is after you all. I’d like to tell you to…take care of yourselves in the future, and…I’m praying for your safety, but I don’t think you’d appreciate such empty sentiment. I am aware that some of you have prices on your own heads, but now is not the time to be bogged down by trivial concerns. There is a greater force at work here, and I will do my best to commit my strength to unraveling this mystery. You’re all free to go.
“Except you, Miss Kasberry, if you don’t mind,” she pointed suddenly. The women stopped and jerked around to ogle her, wondering just what kind of mess their resident mechanic had gotten into. Kasberry made a face and crossed her arms defensively.
“Why, am I in trouble?”
“No. I’d like to speak with you in private, please.”
“About what?”
“I just want to talk. I promise I’ll be civil. The rest of you, please leave us, and thank you for your cooperation.” The crew followed her direction and left the room, but a few couldn’t help themselves, and called out to her teasingly.
“Have a nice chat with the warden, Evie! Ooh, you’re in for it now! Don’t be going all psycho on us now! She is pretty hot, Eve--maybe you’ll get lucky for once.”
“Aw, bite me!” At last the two women were free of company, and Eve returned to the seat she had perched at when the interview first began. She gave the Director an impatient glare, to which Clarissa returned with unexpected fondness. She even smiled after a few seconds. For a moment, Eve really did think the older woman was coming onto her, but her mannerisms and voice didn’t indicate anything of the sort.
“I’m sorry if I’m staring, but you bear a remarkable resemblance to an old friend of mine. Your name is spelled K-A-S-B-E-R-R-Y, correct?”
“Yeah, Evita Elvira Kasberry, if you wanna know the whole truth.”
“The same as Senator Kasberry on Gaia?” Eve rolled her eyes in exasperation. She knew having political connections would make her a target on Earth, but she didn’t anticipate them following her this far.
“If you’re asking if Jackson Kasberry is my father, then yes, okay? It’s the same. What’s your point?” Clarissa smiled softly, looked away for a moment, and tucked her report away so she wouldn’t have anything distracting her.
“So I see there’s some friction between you two.”
“Get to the fucking point!” Eve shouted, vaulting out of her chair. “Okay, you wanna know about our relationship? Fine! My father was some fucking isolationist Senator who used every dirty trick to keep foreigners out of his backyard and gold in his wallet. He didn’t like people from other planets or even other countries, and he influenced me so much with his fucking close-minded shit that I’ve ended up turning into a miserable, lonely little misanthrope! God damn, I hate that man. If he didn’t have papers with DNA evidence on them, I’d swear he wasn’t my real father. If you want, we can get into my stepmother, but I think I’ve pissed you off enough. Can we get to the friggin’ point?”
By all rights, Clarissa should have been a shaking, fuming powder keg ready to explode. She already had people out looking for this woman, and Eve certainly wasn’t making things easier for herself by ranting so furiously. Instead, Astor laughed quite graciously, and invited her guest to sit back down.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. You just reminded me of that same person again.”
“So?”
“You’re right, I should focus on why I asked you to stay behind. There are two things I’d like to discuss with you, and familial relationships is one of them. We’ve covered that quite well, so we’ll just put it to the side for now. I want to ask you one more time if you’d be willing to come back to work for us.”
“The answer’s no,” she grunted, “always and forever, and if you keep pissing me off with the same question, I really will start to hate the military! I’d rather start my own small business and fail than become a nameless cog in your grand design.” Once again, Clarissa kept her composure, but now she seemed to soften even more, and her face glowed with a warm expression.
“Just the way she would answer,” she murmured. “Let me change the subject for awhile. I have a sheet here--somewhere--that says you lived at Hallow’s Point for a few years--the satellite colony around Silvanus. Would you be okay telling me what you did there?” At the mention of her first home away from home, Eve relaxed and even released a humble smile. She had very fond memories of Hallow’s Point and was glad the Director was finally talking about something pleasant.
“I learned the tricks of my trade there. I found this really eccentric mechanic who took me under her wing, and she taught me everything I know. She had a husband, too--and kids
around my age. They were like family to me, in a way. That was probably the happiest I’ve ever been. Of course, I also got into a little accident while I was there, and I guess you could say I lost a piece of myself. There’s not a doubt in my mind that the old lady’s alive--hell, the whole universe could explode, and she’d just kick back and laugh right in its face.”
“She sounds like a wonderful mentor,” Clarissa emphasized. Eve smiled fondly and sighed.
“Yeah. I should go back there one of these days, just to give that stinker a heart attack. Why are you asking me about this, anyway?” Clarissa chuckled and said to never mind.
“I was just curious. Was your mentor’s name, by any chance, Carlisle Renchina?” Eve sat bolt upright and stared so hard that she almost pushed Astor away through sheer amazement.
“Yeah! How the hell did you know that, anyway?”
“She’s the friend I mentioned to you earlier,” Clarissa laughed. “She had a nickname, too: ‘the Wrench’, but she hated being called that. Ahh…just talking about it really takes me back.”
“Unreal!” Eve proclaimed, now flopping back into her chair. It was utterly inconceivable that the Director of the galaxy enlisted forces would know someone living on a backwater colony like that. Clarissa’s smile became a little more serious as she folded her hands, wanting to prepare Eve for the true reason she had asked her there.
“In any case, now that I’ve heard your decision, I’d like to leave you with two bits of knowledge. The first is the knowledge that you are granted your freedom. I’ll lift the bounty on your head and call off all searches. I don’t wish to lose someone with so much potential, especially if she was taught by my old friend, but if I forced you into it, I’d only be betraying the beliefs she stood for, and I’d never be able to look her in the face again if I did.”
“Nice!” Eve grinned. “About time you people got the message! I guess this means I can’t hate you anymore!”
“I’m glad to hear that. The second bit of information might be harder to swallow. You already told me about your father, but you didn’t say much about your mother.”
“She’s my stepmother,” Eve corrected, “and there’s not a whole lot to say. She’s not exactly the epitome of motherhood, and sometimes she can be scum, too, but I’d say she’s the lesser of two evils.”
“I meant your mother--your biological mother, the woman who gave birth to you.” Eve snorted and shoved her hands in her pockets.
“Pssh! Who, her? Damned if I know. My father never told me. He’d always point to his wife and say, ‘this is your mother, Evita, and that’s all you need to know!’ I gave up trying to find her a long time ago.”
“What if I told you I knew who she was?” Clarissa asked. Eve stopped to think for a moment, rolled her eyes, and got out of her seat.
“Lemme guess: another friend I resemble, right?”
“You could say that.”
“Oh yeah? Who?”
……
“So what did she say?” asked Quincy Winchester as she and Eve laid naked in their bed,
cuddling happily after another thrilling episode of lovemaking. Quincy laughed and kissed Eve’s naked shoulder, biting very gently. “She didn’t tell you she was your mother, I hope!”
“No! The Director’s only 44. She would’ve been seventeen at the time.”
“So? That’s old enough for most humans to have kids.”
“She doesn’t have any children. I don’t even think she has family.” Quincy playfully rolled Eve on her back and hovered over her, breasts swaying hypnotically.
“Don’t look at me either, princess! I’m only seven years older than you.”
“I didn’t say that!” Eve guffawed, swatting her face gently. Winchester lived up to her name, the Jackal, as she swooped down and gnawed at Eve’s collarbone lustfully; Kasberry squealed and soon started to moan as her lover penetrated her, gently and lovingly just as Eve had hoped she would.
“So who is it, then? Don’t keep me in suspense, lovely.” Eve glanced up skeptically and grinned.
“It was my old boss! Can you believe it?! That’s just as crazy as your first suggestion! I mean, sure, Carly was like a mother to me, but there’s no way we’re related! That woman was whacked off her military gourd.”
“Probably,” Quincy purred. “But it sounds romantic to me.”
“It sounds like idealistic bullshit. There’s no way I have a real family out there--and if Carly was my mother, she would’ve told me! I was just an apprentice to her--well, maybe a friend, too. But there’s no way.” Quincy smiled sadly, caressed Eve’s face, and bent down to kiss her tenderly. She knew better than to push the subject, so they just had sex again, and slept cuddled close together, wanting to believe that they were really in love. A few minutes after midnight passed, the Jackal quietly slipped away from her beloved’s arms and went to attend her toilet. Since she was up, she decided to make a call, so she grabbed her cell phone and a robe, and stepped outside to feel the cool night air dancing on her skin. She only needed to wait for one dial tone before the line was picked up.
“What is it you want?”
“I noticed your emissary failed in his mission. I also noticed he committed a serious faux pas and betrayed your trust in him.”
“His life was completely meaningless, and whatever drawbacks we may suffer due to his incompetence can be easily mended. He was a fingernail that was cut off, nothing more. I will refer back to my opening question: what is it you want?”
“To offer a deal, of course. I can give you the exact location of the Dead Roses, if you still want to find them, and all I ask is the usual fee. Wasn’t it nice of Mr. Kazcada to neglect his mission earlier? Why, if he had succeeded, you wouldn’t need me, would you Mr. Nephele?”
“You certainly live up to your reputation,” he commented with a sliver of respect. “What a pity that I must rely on you for this information, Miss Jackal. Very well--tell me what you know. I assure you, though, we shall never require your services concerning these pirates after today.”
“I hope you’re wrong!” she snickered, and revealed the location of the Bloody Dove. After reaching an understanding, they both hung up and she put her phone away. Gentle arms embraced her from behind, and the Jackal sighed in content as Eve leaned up to kiss her neck.
“What are you doing here, and what’s with the clothes?” Quincy grinned and turned around, discovering her lover wasn’t quite as discreet about her nudity as she was.
“I just needed some fresh air. Some asshole called my number, too, so I gave him a piece of my mind. I didn’t mean to wake you, sweetheart.” Eve giggled and stealthily untied the older
woman’s robe; she let it drop and the Jackal hummed sweetly as a cool breeze kissed her naked body.
“Mmm, come to bed and forget about that. It’s lonely and cold just laying there by myself.”
“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” she purred.
Meanwhile, back on the ship, Herut observed Shana Suing work with quiet fascination. Most people just saw her as a cute, petite, precocious artist, but Shana was dangerously sharp when properly motivated, and attacked a puzzle like a shark overpowering its helpless prey. Combining a nearly flawless memory with an insatiable thirst for challenges—rolling it all into a deceptively adorable package—Shana could be called the trump card of the Dauntless, and Herut admired her deeply. But she also liked Shana as a friend, because no matter how advanced the little lady got, she still managed to brighten other people’s days and find amusement in the smallest, silliest, slightest things.
She was trying to figure out what sort of connection Derian had with the Dauntless, and who his masters might be, and what the significance or meaning of “Origin” was. Shana knew all the obvious connections and kept them written down on a separate data sheet, sometimes referring back to it when she made another breakthrough. Herut just happened to be in the area, taking a well-earned break from repairing the ship (most of the work was done by a professional pit crew), and decided to stop by for a closer look. One of the things she liked about her friend was that Shana was never too busy to greet people; she highlighted her place and gave Herut a horrifyingly sweet smile.
“Hi there! Wanna come sit next to me? I think I’m on the verge of another breakthrough.” Herut felt honored by the invitation and pulled up a chair; she immediately noticed that Shana was wearing a fragrant perfume that could only be noticed by someone if they were very close. Most people had to remind themselves that this was an adult woman, and a very mature one as well; she just had a bounce in her step as well. Herut didn’t require this reality check and simply thought of Miss Suing as an equal, and a kindred spirit.
“What do you have so far?”
“Well, Kyrie already explained that she never heard about Mr. Kazcada prior to enrollment, and from what I’ve been able to gather, his motive for destroying us had nothing to do with her family or their inventions. It was completely coincidental that they were the same race. However, thanks to Miss Latoli’s help, I’ve been able to find something about his employer—or master, whichever you prefer. Remember at the beginning of the race, when they announced that someone called Nemo Nephele was sponsoring him? Those words translate as ‘nothing’ and ‘cloud’. Since those are words from the Gaean languages, I’ve theorized that our adversary may be based on Helios 3, but it could just as easily be a red herring. If Kazcada’s sponsor really wanted to remain hidden, he or she would’ve chosen a much more obscure language to draw names from. They wouldn’t be anonymous, because that draws too much attention.” Herut smiled and shook her head in amazement.
“You’re brilliant, you know that?”
“Not really!” Shana exclaimed cheerily. “I had lots of help. You could say I’m only connecting the dots. I also have a theory that claims Kazcada has a connection with the Nurogrim race, the Rennai penal colonists, and the Elshyrin, due to how brazen they were when he attacked us that one time. Also, when Chandra got back from her date with Captain
Chuunaru, I asked her if she picked up any information concerning that dogfight the Backdraft orchestrated.”
“I can guess where that conversation went,” Herut mumbled. Shana giggled and shuffled her files around so a new set of notes were on top.
“Well, I didn’t get a whole lot, but she did mention that Captain Chuunaru was involved. Apparently, Kazcada’s also got issues with the Dead Roses, so we’re not the only victims here.”
“Maybe they deserved it,” Herut shrugged. “After all, they are pirates.”
“Mm-hmm, I put that into consideration as well. I wanted to interview Miss Rose, but it seems she’s already left the planet. I guess she didn’t want to give her antagonists an unnecessary head start. Anyway, I’ve been looking into this ‘Origin’ that Kazcada mentioned, but I haven’t been able to find anything. Dr. Miracle’s even looking through the Tome of Treasures, and I’ve asked everyone on the ship except you.”
“I can’t help you there,” Herut sighed. Shana chuckled warmly and reached out for her hand.
“It’s okay. I didn’t expect to solve anything right away. We’re just not in total darkness anymore, that’s all. Would you like to help me research?”
“Sure,” she grinned. Herut liked Shana; she felt more human around her; she even considered her the closest friend she had. Before the gold-and-green-eyed girl could stand, Herut impulsively leaned close and kissed her lips: it was something she had wanted to try and discover for awhile now. Her actions were clumsy and inexperienced, but Shana didn’t retract or make Herut feel any worse for her decision. It was her first kiss, too.
“Sorry,” she grinned bashfully, “I just wanted to see why Chandra finds it so stimulating.”
“And?” Shana whispered. Herut’s deep brown eyes glimmered as her cheeks turned rosy.
“Um…I liked it. Don’t tell her I was curious, okay?”
“Okay!” she laughed—before scooting closer to return the favor. Shana was just as awkward and uncertain, but in her innocence, she could pour purity into her works, and her pure love for Herut became evident as the other girl closed her eyes, cradled Shana’s head, and gasped quietly as they both accustomed themselves to this new sensation.
“Did you like that too?” Shana whispered shyly. Herut blushed and nodded sweetly. There was a little trail of saliva connecting their lips.
“Yeah. So…are we going to study or kiss?”
“I don’t see why we can’t do both!” she giggled.
……
Kaori Chuunaru liked her date with Chandra so much that she arranged another one before leaving. Their last meeting had been a bit too passionate and personal for Kaori’s novice tastes: they had danced together at the zero-g ball, and Chandra made every attempt possible to sneak ghostly kisses whenever possible. She had touched Kaori’s hands, her waist, and even the small of her back with seasoned intimacy, and later proved just how good she was with her hands by giving the older woman a massage. Kaori knew she needed one—life in the military was stressful, and it made her muscles sore and joints stiff—and she felt like butter underneath the
caring touches of the ochre-skinned goddess. Chandra even snuck a kiss in, placing her lips upon Kaori’s mouth and finalizing Chuunaru’s deeply-buried sexuality. She called an end to their first date prematurely, out of fear and duty—she had no idea where Chandra meant for the evening to go, and was frightened of the possibilities.
But the second date put her more at ease. They had dinner by a beautiful Centanian lake, went for a boat ride, and even attempted to paint together. Kaori was surprised by how romantic Chandra could be, and wondered if this was really “just” a pleasure unit, or a real woman falling in love. She had seen how lustful these models could be and shunned them as abominations, but this one seemed different—more genuine, maybe. Whoever gave her new life must’ve certainly loved his or her work (Kaori theorized it was a man, since Chandra only seemed interested in women). They ended their day by taking a walk around the lake, holding hands, forgetting about the world outside their idyllic umbrella. Chandra stopped her once to deliver a deep kiss, and was mildly surprised as Kaori nestled her soft moist tongue through her lips, exploring the insides of her mouth. The biggest disappointment was being forced to cut their evening short: Chandra wanted to make sweet blissful love to this woman, and even Chuunaru toyed with the idea. But in the end, one was a lesbian pleasure unit, and the other was a Captain in the United Military. They would probably not see each other again.
“I’d like to see a lot more of you,” Sati Yeriman said as she caressed Riene’s face. Just hearing those words sent her heart soaring, even though she preferred they come from Rebecca’s lips. “I know we’ll have our own things once we leave, but I’d like to make some effort to meet up with you. I’m really quite smitten with you.”
“You’re so sweet to say things like that,” Riene chuckled. “I’m not accustomed to being romanced. I’m afraid I’m going about it the wrong way.”
“No, you’re doing fine. Anyway, I’ve been thinking. I’d like to be your girlfriend—you know, make a steady relationship out of this. But I’d also like you to be my partner.”
“Your partner?” Riene’s eyes glowed quizzically; that one word could mean anything.
“Yeah, travel the galaxy with me, meet interesting people, go to strange places, that sort of deal. I’m not saying you should commit to anything now, because of what you’re doing, but…give it some time. When you’re ready to make a decision, meet me on the dark side of Selena. I’ll be over there in about a month, so take your time.” Riene nodded absently, and drew closer as Satine kissed her. Their parting embrace was too brief; Riene wished it could go on and on. Her skin danced ecstatically as Sati made a trail down her neck and ended at her shoulder; she pulled the other woman back up, kissed her firmly, and let her go, silently promising she would think about her answer.
Let’s make a deal, Riene: if by the time a month passes by and you’re no closer to Rebecca—closer in any way, shape, or form at all—I mean, if it looks like there’s no hope at all—then you should accept her offer. I would only be lying to myself if I stayed after that. Besides, it’s not like you have anything else keeping you here, and you did want to explore and all that. I wonder if anybody will miss me.
She grinned at Rebecca and even made direct eye contact as she boarded the ship, just to test the waters, and noticed the younger woman smiling bashfully as she looked away. If only Riene knew just how furiously Miss Hill’s heart was beating at the time, she would already have her answer.
Once everyone had said their farewells to old friends and new faces, the crew of twenty-four packed themselves into the vessel, ready to head for new horizons. The Space Race had
been an entertaining and educational distraction (though it became gruesome at the end), but now it was finally time to return to their normal schedule: searching the galaxy for treasures, and experiencing everything the great heavenly unknown had to offer. Next stop: Saigrim!
“And it’s about time,” Naja huffed.
……
“She’s late again,” Patches commented as she brought more supplies onto the ship.
“Rose is always the last one to board—you know that,” her sister said.
“Yeah, but why is it that every time we’re late, she tans our hides?”
“Maybe the Captain wants us to set a higher standard,” Duchess suggested. “Or maybe she’s just twisted that way.”
“Rose does enjoy giving a good spanking,” Henrietta grunted, setting down four bags. Not all the pirates were on the Bloody Dove just yet: some were still scrounging for supplies, bribing race officials, gathering information, or (as it was in the Captain’s case) concluding a romantic conquest. They were scheduled to leave in an hour, but not even Duchess was that punctual, so they didn’t expect to really set sail for at least ninety minutes. That would give everyone plenty of time to load the ship up, say their farewells, and maybe sneak in a “quickie” if they were quiet about it. Since Duchess was frailer than most of her mates, she kept a tally of the items coming in and made sure every woman checked in, so they wouldn’t leave anybody behind (it only happened once, but it left a very profound impact on the poor girl, and Rose had sharply implemented the system ever since). As the crew worked hard to fill the Bloody Dove with necessities and goodies, Duchess spotted an unfamiliar person approaching the ship. She jumped down from her perch, drew her sword, and smiled bittersweetly.
“I’m sorry, but only a member of the Dead Roses can come aboard. I’m afraid that if you don’t have an invitation or the Captain’s permission, we will have to ask you—“
Duchess never spoke again as the stranger sliced her head clean off in one stroke.
“Holy mother-fucker!” Women started screaming and yelling brutally as their beloved helmswoman tumbled to the floor, and they swarmed the invader like a horde of berserkers, blind with rage. The intruder waded into their ranks, hacking and slashing with merciless brutality, slaughtering everyone in sight. The pirates quickly fell back, shocked at his amazing strength, and a roar of gunfire sounded off as Henrietta led the next wave. She pointed her machine-gun leg directly at the killer, but felt her blood run cold as he stood there, absorbing the torrent, hardly even flinching. Henrietta roared and ran in to blast him at point-blank range: she buried her artificial leg into his crotch and emptied her supply. His eyes merely squeezed in annoyance before he cut off her other leg, flinging her to the ground. Henrietta screamed once before her voice was cut off: his sword went right through her head.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” The man stood with lifeless eyes and a dull, kingly face as Patches and Natalie charged at him. They threw knives, tomahawks, and even grenades at him, but nothing seemed to work. The weapons remained buried in his body, like he was a living
pincushion, and he waited patiently as they slowed their attack, and gazed at each other in horrible realization. Quick as a flash, the unknown assassin dashed after the sisters, running Natalie through before slamming Patches against the floor, so hard that her spine shattered and her skull cracked instantly. A fatally wounded woman, her trademark nudity glossy with her own blood, reached out to her dear sister, her fierce rival, her treasured friend, her passionate lover, and smiled as her life came to an end.
“It wasn’t so bad…was it, Patty?”
The man continued his patient, unstoppable rampage, killing everyone in his way. He took care of the main deck before diving down into the lower quarters, and here was where he met the greatest resistance. Torch had scrambled deep into the weapons storage room and was preparing for a last-ditch effort when the assassin came her way. She kicked down a door, rolled out a large cannon, straddled it, and waved her trademark blowtorch in the air. The nozzle was pointing right at his torso.
“Say hello to my little friend!” The explosion knocked the man back, carving shrapnel and steel and fire into his body; he crashed against the ship’s wall, splintering wood and dislocating boards. The impact actually made the entire ship tremble, and Torch kicked her weapon like a horse, yawping triumphantly. Six seconds after the dust cleared, however, the man slowly climbed up from the rubble, unfazed and unharmed, and stepped over to meet his assailant as if he had years to kill her.
“You’re KIDDING me!” she roared. The man shook his head calmly, and carved her body in half with one blow. Inevitably, the rest of the pirates fell, regardless of the fight they put up. Some were cut apart, or stabbed, or decapitated; others were smashed against the ship, flung around by tremendously powerful arms. A few tried to run—not out of cowardice, but hopelessness and fear—and one or two escaped, but the warrior caught most of them, and executed them on the spot. One hour after Duchess first spotted him in the distance, the invincible assassin had killed nearly every crewmember of the Bloody Dove; he had hardly spared a single soul.
As he climbed back to the deck, he saw the Captain, her face pallid beyond the spectrum of color, sweat trickling down her skin as her legs and arms shivered uncontrollably. Rose had seen countless horrors in her day and had been able to laugh at them all, but this… It was not merely horrific, but nightmarish, atrocious…and unforgivable. Rose abandoned reason for revenge, and charged at the assassin with all her fury, burying her sword in his belly up to the hilt. He jerked faintly, grunted, and stared deep into her oceanic eyes—not out of hatred or spite, but pure, absolute apathy. They were the eyes of a noble king, the eyes of a wise sailor, the windows of a man who had no soul, and they were darker and more ominous and more engrossing than anything Rose had ever seen before. She felt like a child standing next to an Emperor.
“So it’s true,” she whispered in awe. “The legends are true. You do exist.”
“Yes.” Rose stepped back humbly as the man took her sword in his hands, twisted it, and slowly lifted it up—not out, but up, like you would slice through jelly. The blade passed through his chest, beyond his neck, and slowly—Rose felt like vomiting at this point—up through his head, until it came out of his scalp, and he handed it back to her.
“Take it,” he said. “You’ve earned the right to die with it in your hands.” Rose shakily grabbed her sword, hugged it close, and collapsed on the ground, grief-stricken and scared beyond mortal comprehension. She felt his sword go through her body, fluidly as if she were made of butter, and wept as he took the helm. The Bloody Dove slowly took off, guided by a
master navigator, and left Centania for the distant black shores.
“Where the hell are you taking us?” she groaned.
“To the star of this system,” he answered. “I will guide this vessel into the eternal flames, where your crew and your ship shall not be defiled. I believe it is a proper ending for our kind.” Rose glanced at her crew, wincing whenever she moved, and slumped her head in morose relief.
“Yeah… So who sent you? I think I have the right to know, before I go up in flames.”
“That you do, Captain Rose. An entity named Boole was the one who commissioned me for this task, but the one who pointed me in your direction was a person called Jackal.” Rose suddenly revived and stood up to her full height, leaking red humours everywhere. Even with pain shooting through her body and the assassin’s sword still lodged inside her, she had strength enough for shock and rage.
“Did you say the Jackal?! Do you mean Quincy Winchester?!”
“I was not given any other name.” Her mouth hung open, and she sat down again, stunned.
“So, she really did betray me in the end. That heartless, wicked monster… I promise you, Jackal, I will haunt you from Hell for the rest of eternity! Everything I have suffered today will be returned a hundred fold when we meet at Lucifer’s throne! By my own blood, and the blood of my fallen comrades…”
She became silent, and said no more. The man patiently guided the Bloody Dove towards her fiery demise, and jumped out before the ship was sucked into its gravity and was instantly consumed. Now all he had to do was wait for someone to find him and pick him up, so he crossed his arms and studied the cosmos, patient as time itself. Barbarossa, the immortal Captain of the infamous Flying Dutchman, had been alive for over a thousand years; spending a few hours drifting through the heavens wouldn’t inconvenience him at all.
Preview of next chapter
Valti: Ah, so we’re finally headed to Saigrim, are we? What were we going there for, again?
Eve: I think to get some nail that Naja wanted.
Valti: Oh yeah, I remember now! She said she wants to use it to break out of her marriage contract!
Allegra: If she wanted to do that, she should’ve just asked my advice! Lady van Landingham could’ve given her a few pointers…
Eve: Well, you’d think that someone as repulsive as Naja wouldn’t have a fiancé.
Allegra: It just goes to show that there’s somebody out there for everyone.
Valti: Even me?!
Allegra: …Almost everyone.
Valti: You’re mean!
Eve: Hopefully we’ll get back on track in the next chapter, but only time will tell. With this crew, there’s a distraction every day!
Allegra: So y’all come back now, y’hear?
Valti: Wait! Aren’t we going to announce the chapter title like we always do?
Eve and Allegra: FOURTH WALL!
Allegra: Actually, I hear it’s gonna be a surprise!
Eve: Oooh, nice! I hope there’ll be giant robots there!
Valti: And lots of nubile subjects for me to experiment on!
Allegra: … (sweat-drop)
Eve: … (nervous tic)
Valti: What?
Eve: No, Valti—just…no, okay?
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