Startup 90: Crunch Time

Lamashan 14

The Hippocampus cut through the waters of the Queen’s Procession like a shark seeking prey. Deep beneath the deck, the engine boomed with a staccato rhythm, propelling the ship with arcane ****. To either side, hundreds of dead eyes glared down upon Sosima, accusing her of misdeeds both large and small.

Sosima held the railing steady, keeping an eye out for the vein of crystal Sandara had noted as being near the Karkinoi spawning grounds. The Karkinoi, creatures somewhere half between a crab and an ogre, were known to be savage raiders. It was likely that Queen Bes was only safe from their depredations due to the authority of Besmara. It was a shame they hadn’t known of their likely opposition before coming here; there was a high chance that there was a bounty on Karkinoi in the other ports near Besmara’s Throne.

Mariana, the Catrina, watched the ship’s careful progress with a slowly darkening expression. Though Emrys was paying her well enough for cooperation, she was still devoted to the orderly procession of dead souls into their eternal rewards or damnation. In all likelihood, quite a bit of work was piling up outside of her office in the Boneyard.

It’s not as if you’ll get back any quicker if we finish early; Emrys must send you back personally.

Sosima felt quite useless in all honesty; she was a figurehead and oversight, but thus far Shishe had been doing a perfectly respectable job impersonating Captain Laurent. She leaned heavily into maintaining a business as usual atmosphere, which for the Hippocampus was a dour, serious sort of environment that felt quite familiar to Sosima. She’d been on many a ship like this in the Navy, and the irony brought a faint smile to her lips when recognized.

Best to remember that. I imagine such a proud pirate would take a compliment to that effect as quite the insult.

Alice, though ostensibly a maidservant, was in fact Laurent’s right hand. While her first mate handled the minutiae, Alice buzzed around like a busy bee to implement the captain’s will. She looked like an adolescent, but Sosima knew that half elves sometimes gave off that effect. With her petite build and fresh face, Alice could have been any age between 15 and 30. Many a half-elven actor had difficulty transitioning into adult roles after a more than a decade playing youths.

“Captain, shall I assemble a team to retrieve the corpse?” Alice asked, perfectly professional. “I believe we can use the standard away team; they’ve been growing terribly restless.”

“Very well,” Shishe said, “they can keep the Karkinoi off our backs. It shall be a delicate operation, after all.”

“Oh?” Alice asked, stopping halfway through the process of flitting away, “Why is that?”

“The corpse is Besmara’s property, of course.” Shishe said, “We may speak to him, but I’ve no intention of disturbing him, and he’s suspended in the air. We shall need to bring extra rope.”

Mariana’s mouth, already tight, hardened further with displeasure. She needed to be in arm’s reach to question the dead, and no doubt she was already regretting her pact.

Get over it, girl. It’ll be finished by tomorrow, one way or another.

••••••••••

When Sandara told me about the ridiculous quantity of sea monsters in the water around the island, I’d done some thinking. Besmara was the goddess of sea monsters, piracy, and strife. Storms are definitely in her toolkit, but are more an extension of her other traits than they are her primary “thing”. As such, I figured that the heaviest defenses would logically be underwater with the sea monsters, and on the surface in the form of things like that weird ship Sandara saw.

In conclusion, it was a perfectly logical, well thought out, and strategic decision to launch myself into a small hurricane while attached to an improvised kite. At least to start things out.

The raft, its single sail filled to bursting with wind, hurtled thirty or so feet above the surface of the waves. It was all Autopilot could do to keep the current of wind blowing at cross purposes with the storm. I could feel the weather righting itself a few feet behind us, the very second that I let go. We were a bullet of compressed air, and I didn’t dare let Autopilot slow down enough to make a more stable tunnel.

I really do think the air defenses will be weaker. That doesn’t mean nonexistent.

Visibility was absolutely awful. I couldn’t manipulate rain and wind at the same time, so I was hurtling through precipitation heavy enough to almost blind me. At least my shade lenses, strapped tight to my face with straps that turned them into improvised goggles, kept most of the water out of my eyes. Enough for flying in a straight line, anyway.

Sandara stood beside me, clinging to my waist and cackling with pleasure at the sheer insanity of it all. After she’d given me my air bubble and one for herself, she’d called a bolt of lightning into her hand. Anything that moved to intercept us, and there were a few things like air elementals, would get shocked as she threw the bolt into their faces. It reformed in her hands seconds later.

If that wasn’t enough, like with lightning elementals or a Xocothian who shrieked with rage when it saw us, Sandara followed up with a blast of pressurized water I’d mostly seen her use back on the Wormwood to knock people off the ship. It didn’t seriously hurt the creatures she hit, but on a flying creature it would knock them into a tumble. By the time they righted themselves, we were long gone. The Xocothian, as a servitor of Gozreh, stuck around longer than most but even it gave up eventually after just a few token bolts of lightning sent our way.

All that got us pretty close, thankfully. The thin line of white energy connecting Sandara to her Guiding Star in my magic vision confirmed that we were keeping a steady heading. Step one was going great. Then with a sudden jerk to the left informed me that it was time to transition into step two, right fucking now. We’d hit the point where I couldn’t control weather now, and it was all down to how well I could pilot this thing.

Clive, I take back everything I ever said about you being a rich idiot. Thank you for inviting me and the frat windsurfing in the Caribbean. Let’s see how much I remember. 3 days a few years back is basically expertise, right?

••••••••••

“Jinxi’s tits, your butt looks amazing in that!”

“I know, right? Can you believe a goblin made it in our sizes, like, overnight?”

“Crazy! She’s so smart.”

“The smartest.”

“Shut up!” Syl hissed at the two Tengu, “Please, by the sands, shut up!”

The three women plus Conchobar, were all crammed into Captain Laurent’s quarters. They were dressed in strange outfits Rowe had made, which clung to their bodies and had the consistency of leather. Syl was privately as shocked at Rowe’s tailoring skill as Kiko and Sora, but it didn’t bear discussion while in enemy territory, even in a whisper.

Despite their form fitting nature, the purpose of the suits was not to display their assets to best effect. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rowe had made the design a while back, but she’d only really used it a few times.

I should have brought Filli and left these two on the Enterprise. What was I thinking? Damn, no, they wouldn’t be enough. Rowe had to disassemble most of her guns to make these suits for… some reason. I wonder if goblin tech will ever make sense?

The Captain’s quarters had already been largely ransacked of anything fungible. There were a handful of bullets that were marked with various symbols; Syl wrapped them tightly in a pair of stockings and slipped them into a bag.

Conchobar, who was listening at the door, opened it just a crack and then closed it immediately. Dierdre, in her Danthienne form, appeared and sat daintily upon the edge of Laurent’s dresser.

“She has a few more officers, but most of them keep their personal quarters locked.” She said, examining her immaculate nails, “I found the engine room exactly where one might expect it to be, and there are only a dozen people in there, including the gentlemen operating it. It seems to be some kind of drum that pushes the ship forward when struck.”

“Is it small enough for us to carry?” Syl asked.

“Maybe?” Dierdre asked, “assuming you can get it unhooked. It’s about the size of a human man’s torso, but it’s quite securely fastened to the ship.”

Syl nodded, and a faint smile played across her lips. That was still more promising than the armory, which had boasted a full complement of armed guards standing by.

“Alright.” Syl said. “We wait for the fighting to start, then we go get the Enterprise a new engine.”

“What music?”

“Oh I love music!”

“It’s not opera, is it? I prefer a good jig.”

“Oh I know, right?”

“Girls! Please!” Syl said, rubbing her temples with her palms. “You can pick the locks on the officers’ quarters, right?”

“Oh yeah! Sora is great at picking locks.”

“Kiko is way better. I tell you, absolutely amazing.”

“No! You’re way faster.”

“Yeah but I’ve never seen you break a lock.”

Syl sighed.

“Kiko, we need to keep it quiet and avoid any missteps, so it’s going to be you.” She said, “Conchobar and Sora will act as lookouts. Understood? Now turn on your suits.”

I’m going to kill these two, or I’m going to end up needing to kill everyone on this ship. Best to keep them busy to keep the body count low.

Everyone present, save Dierdre who could simply turn invisible, pulled up the hoods of the suits provided by Rowe. They let out a whispered hum for a fraction of a second, and then each figure shimmered and seemed to vanish, showing the wall beyond the suit. The effect was substantially lesser than invisibility, but it was the next best thing if one moved slowly enough for the projection on the suit to adjust. Near useless in combat, but perfect for a moment such as this.

The girls, to Syl’s shock and pleasure, shut up while they crept down the hallway. It would have to do.

••••••••••

Shishe rapidly shifted her inner eye from person to person on the crew, gleaning fragments of expectation as she did. The way that Matilde Laurent stood when at rest, the correct modes of address when speaking to the crew, the cadence of her voice, all vital information if she wished to maintain her cover.

Thankfully this would not be a long term infiltration, even setting aside that burning fuse Emrys had her carry up to the highlands. Laurent was, as was so often the case, too important for that. Shishe was no Rakshasa, here to claim a place of power, hollow it out, and bludgeon those who argue into compliance. She survived by weaving veils of plausible deniability and leaning on pilfered trust.

Shishe and her sisters much preferred taking the faces of those defined by function. People like Emrys had been in Heslandaena, who everyone ignored so long as their duties were fulfilled, were ideal. Especially since he’d been attractive to the majority of people there who held power. It had been novel to be a man in that position; in her experience it was usually some pretty young girl that all the gentlemen shallowly lusted after.

They’d already turned off of the main thoroughfare of the Queen’s Procession, into one of the tall cracks that led to an inland lake. Using Laurent’s spyglass, a terribly useful trinket she’d already decided to keep, Shishe was able to pick out where their quarry lay to rest among a dozen other corpses artfully framed by a stone arch. Each dangled a dozen feet or more from the peak of the rock formation.

They would have been nearly done already if the arch were unguarded, but unfortunately it was breeding season. When she’d informed Riptide of her intentions, he’d simply wished her luck with a crooked smile.

“Men, stand ready.” She said, “We are intruding in Karkinoi territory. I suspect they will test us soon enough.”

One of the crew, whom mental chatter identified as the gunnery officer, looked at her with a question in his eyes. He was waiting, and she went out of her way to look at everything else she could justify the delay while she paced close enough link her mind with Sosima.

The Chelish girl, despite being the best source of naval knowledge Shishe had, insisted on staying out of range most of the time. Apparently she was one of those people who objected to telepathic intrusions and kept her guard up at all times, so Shishe needed to play nice and ask questions directly. Perhaps it was due to that void entity she had clinging to her like a leech, but whatever the reason it was painfully inefficient.

What is the gunnery chief waiting for?

Sosima shook herself from her reverie, but thankfully kept the glare etched into her surface emotions far from her face.

Likely he’s waiting for orders to load grapeshot. That’s what any reasonable ship would use against large groups of unarmored foes.

Shishe turned her head towards the gunnery chief and scowled.

“Why aren’t those cannons loaded with grapeshot yet?” Shishe demanded, “You know your work.”

The surf in this lake-thing was relatively calm and clear, at least compared to the inland sea, so it wasn’t terribly difficult to see the forces arrayed before them. Greenish brown heads popped out above the waves, the beady black eyestalks of the Karkinoi focused sharply upon the ship. At first it was only one, but the number seemed to double with every minute. It was the height of their spawning season, and Shishe could guess what the crab-ogres were thinking.

Kill an intruder, take his broken corpse to someone who hasn’t chosen a mate yet so she can eat it, and you’ll get lucky. Well, at least we will only be thinning the population of all the males too stupid to think ahead. The females won’t be terribly picky once they finish molting; just wait and you’ll get your chance.

The ship plowed through the waves, with a few dozen archers picking off Karkinoi who dared come within range of bowshot. The grapeshot, whatever that was, was kept in reserve. Only when the Hippocampus neared the foot of the arch, easily tall enough for the ship to sail beneath were it not for the treacherous rocks, did the Karkinoi grow truly enraged at the intrusion.

“Now then, Miss Dubois, Miss Mariana.” Shishe said, “I’ll be keeping an eye upon you two while you interrogate that damned heretic, and these fellows will keep the Karkinoi at bay. Understood?”

Shishe gestured at the team, all stony faced elves, that Alice had assembled. They certainly looked the part of a boarding party; each and every one of them looked eager to draw blood from the moment that they filed into the small boat. They’d have ample opportunities; Shishe was certain of that.

••••••••••

As it turns out, flying on an improvised raft in hurricane **** winds is not quite as easy as windsurfing on the surface with a dedicated board in relatively mild weather. This should not surprise anyone, least of all me, and indeed it did not. Disappointed ? Yes. But not surprised. Lucky for me, Autopilot is a fucking badass and a quick fly check kept us on track… sort of.

The storm wall was spinning in a broadly clockwise direction around the Blessed Isle, so as long as Autopilot and I could collectively keep our trajectory as an inward spiral, I thought we had a real chance to get there without touching down.

It might take a while, sure, but so far nothing up here has been more than we can handle. No reason to abandon a plan that’s working.

At one point I made the mistake of wondering what our odds were to get back to Queen Bes in this storm, and instantly I regretted it. For just a second, the winds around me stilled and then reversed, forming another bullet of weather ready to shuttle us home.

No no no! I was just speculating, for fuck’s sake!

The cocoon of orange transmutation magic wrapped around us popped as rapidly as it had appeared. Belatedly I worried that I’d just use my one get out of storm free ticket, but if I had then I was probably still fine. I might have spent a moment of weakness to speculate, but I was fairly certain Sandara hadn’t considered retreat seriously at any point after leaving the Enterprise. I turned to check on her for our heading, and saw her squinting into the darkness, a bubble of faint orange transmutation forming around her head.

The Air Bubble spell was one of several methods of air breathing she had access to from Besmara’s approved list of spells. The spell created a pocket of clear, breathable air around someone’s head that would last several minutes. That had a lot more uses than breathing underwater, and one of those corner cases was the real reason she’d prepared a few instances of the spell.

“Oi, Emrys.” She said, loud but conversational, like she was yelling over the talent at a concert, “Did you know Besmara has a pet parrot?”

“What?” I shouted back over the rain, and whipped my head around.

It didn’t seem likely that she was asking for pure trivia, and she wasn’t. She spent another of her precious spell slots to cast Air Bubble on me as well. The rain stopped pounding onto my shade lenses as the bubble pushed away any unwanted liquids away from my head, allowing me to see what had caught her eye. In the distance, flying counterclockwise so as to meet us head on, was a gargantuan bird trailing lightning.

I’ve heard of thunderbirds. They’re a Native American thing in my old world, and I don’t really know the details of what the relevant tribes considered canon. I assume it’s something to do with weather, and I’d be willing to guess that thunderbirds would usually look like eagles or hawks or something else native to the Americas. I’d be willing to bet double or nothing on my debt to Dovnu that they’re hardly ever depicted as gargantuan blue and gold macaws with arc lightning lashing off of it, but that’s more or less exactly what I was looking at.

The thunder macaw was flying straight towards us, and I gulped as I realized that its torso alone was probably as large as a school bus. It let out a resonant screech that drowned out the thunder. Two Xocothiane flitted beneath its wings, looking like robins sitting in a tree. I was far too distant to hear anything clearly, but I knew the gist of what the children of Gozreh were probably saying.

Yes, that one right there officer.