I passed it off as an honest mistake made in the heat of battle. “That way, you idiot!” I pointed at the other ship’s hull with my sword, more specifically at the bad patch job in the Rumrunner’s hull that a bunch of morons called welding.
Even though Scully had the best aim of my entire crew, and even though I trusted him to be able to pick off a moving target right behind me, I didn’t feel like having to patch up a large hole in my deck. Scully and the Harpy spun into position with a hiss of hydraulics. The spear dipped a little, ready to punch through eight inches of steel.
The heavy pursuit of boots stomped to a standstill. I turned around to see Tethys glaring at the Harpy, his sword arm hanging low. “Bastard,” he muttered.
“You mean ‘asshole.’ ‘Bastard’ is a compliment in my book.”
He snarled, then turned and stomped away as he sheathed his sword with a stiff thrust, his overly long ponytail swishing behind him. I ordered Scully to keep his sights on the enemy’s hull, then headed for the stern.
Tethys bellowed to his men to stop fighting and jump ship. Part of me thought it would be amusing to have my crew chase the others and force them to jump into the ocean, but that would make it take longer to escort them out of Newport. Instead I ordered them to stand down but keep their weapons drawn.
Fighting came to an awkward halt. Tethys’s men kept their swords up as they backed or sidestepped towards my starboard ladder. One by one they sheathed their swords and descended as my crew inched closer. Three of my men stared over the railing, hopefully to make sure none of the sailors vandalized my ship during their retreat. Tethys descended last and I hoped my ladder could support his weight. He could probably undo a good welding job with just one arm.
He smirked at me right before his balding head disappeared over the side.
I sheathed my sword. “Sam, get O’Toole.”
“Sir?” Sam raised an eyebrow that disappeared under his mop of sandy hair.
“Just in case.”
The crew that heard me tensed up. I didn’t blame them. But a man who has just got outmaneuvered doesn’t smirk.
Sam hesitated, then sheathed his sword and ran below deck.
“Mido, come with me.” I hurried to the ladder and looked down. It was still perfectly attached, and devoid of Tethys and crew. I grudgingly descended the ladder, not wanting to part with my physical soul once again. My feet belonged on deck. Dry land, and even docks were eerily inert and dead-like. You could walk all over such places as you pleased. The ocean never lets anyone forget who’s boss, and often takes lives as it sees fit. But that was another battle for another day…
Just as I feared, Tethys’s crew wasn’t scurrying back to their own ship; they were closing in on Newport’s civilians. I let myself drop the last three rungs and hit the dock running. “Tethys, just board your own ship, damn it!” Newport would both thank and hate me for protecting them. Tethys was a less welcome captain than myself.
The locals nearest him lost their scowls when he drew his sword. An audible gasp ran through the crowd. It started dispersing, but the docks were too congested for everyone to get away. I drew my sword and intercepted the other sword’s downward arc as I pushed a lady out of its way. She hit the ground pretty hard, then scrambled to her feet and took off without looking back. Smart broad.
Tethys rounded on me and next thing I knew I was looking at the sky and couldn’t breathe. I had fallen spread-eagle onto the dock. I let go of my sword, clutching my sternum. Before I could come up with a way to protect the landies, Mido appeared over me, sword in hand. He squared off with Tethys, then charged in but, being severely outweighed, was sent onto his back right next to me. Tethys and his crew began to chase down civilians with swords and glass grenades, while all I could do was lie there, propped up on one elbow, and force air into my lungs.
Three glass grenades shattered against the sides of buildings. Screams of agony pierced the air as the grenades’ acidic contents burned people alive. More screams join the first round, but were cut short. Seagulls took off squawking.
I pushed to my feet, even though it felt like it made my lungs smaller, and reached inside my trench coat. “Tethys!” He ignored me and grabbed hold of the elderly man who ran the cod and haddock stall. “Get on your ship or I kill you where you stand!”
Tethys turned, then lost his sneer and went pale when he saw the handgun I held pointed at him.
The fish vendor eyed the gun’s barrel and screamed. “Put that thing away!” He struggled so hard he ripped his shirt from Tethys’ grasp and fell on his bony rear.
Before he could get up, the air got frigid and the wind died. The seagulls fell silent. No one moved. Not even Tethys or me. Then, as if they came out of the docks, the air, the fog, or the ground itself, the quasi-children arrived, just as I’d expected and more or less feared. Everyone knew they existed. Everyone knew to not screw with them, like sharks or lightning. All three were completely avoidable dangers. Just like a surfer takes risks with sharks, I took risks with quasi-children by exposing a gun to open air.
The quasis encircled me, paying the rest of humanity no attention whatsoever. They stared me down with their black eyes and pale, serious faces. They all looked no older than ten, had no hair as if they were cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy, and were bone thin inside their tattered clothes. They looked like they should be dead. Many people believed they were ghosts or zombies, but I knew better. Ghosts don’t appear just because you draw a gun or try to employ any form of energy-using technology that’d harm the environment. Yep, those kids were Mother Nature’s latest way of protecting herself. The only way to combat them was to not use what made them appear. That’s it.
I held my gun aimed at Tethys, struggling to keep my arm raised. The will of the quasis was trying to get me to hand over my gun like hunger drives a person to eat. Having seen the eerily silent death of the gun’s previous owner for firing it, I was more than willing to oblige, but I feared Tethys would go right back to slaughtering people if I did. A gun was the fastest solution to needless slaughter, even though it gave me a new problem to deal with.
Knowing I had only a few more seconds to make a decision before the quasis made it for me, I hid away my gun and let my arms, which felt like two blocks of ice, hang at my sides. The gesture was enough to stop their creeping closer to me, but not enough to get them to disappear back to wherever they came from. They stared from four feet away on all sides.
Tethys looked like he was about to be sick. His crew of typically superstitious seamen ran for their ship and started boarding. One of the crew called to their captain, which snapped him out of staring at the quasi-children. He ran off and didn’t put away his sword until he’d reached his ship.
I headed for my own with the quasis still surrounding me.
Mido spoke, his voice subdued. “Why don’t you just give them the gun?”
“Why don’t they just let me keep it?” Considering all the trouble the weapon caused, I should’ve never claimed it. But I’m obstinate like that. I deal with it.
Mido shook his head then jogged to the Pertinacious. Once again, I followed my cook up the ladder, but this time with the quasis surrounding me, ascending the ladder or crawling up the sides as if the laws of gravity didn’t apply to them. They never took their eyes off of me, which kicked in my fight response, urging me to punch the nearest one. Those emotionless eyes and cold faces wouldn’t stop staring. There was no point in punching them though. Bullets wouldn’t do the trick either.
The quasi-children encircled me once again, their presence having the same effect on my crew as they had Tethys. More quasis rose into existence all over the stern. I trudged towards the wheelhouse. “Sam, let him loose,” I said calmly as I passed. Sam let go of O’Toole, a short Irishman with curly orange hair. I’d picked him up on a trip to Ireland two years ago. He was a severely autistic person with the intelligence of a one-year-old, but he served his purposes, one being the ability to get rid of quasi-children.