Chapter 19

As the day progressed, Thomas sat shirtless on a low stool, the muscles in his jaw tight as he watched Hayden’s focused movements. The surgeon, a man whose small stature was belied by an immense, unwavering cheerfulness, hummed a tuneless shanty as he worked.

“Tsk, now that’s a stubborn one,” Hayden murmured, his long tweezers probing a wound on Thomas’s shoulder. With a final, precise plink, a sizable sliver of dark wood landed in the metal bowl with the others. “Very lucky, though. It’s all just wood. Metal is so much fussier. You said it was shrapnel, yes?”

“Yes, it was from the—” Thomas began, his explanation cut short by Hayden’s enthusiastic nod.

“Yes, yes! Splintered shot. Quite fortunate! A more direct hit could have shattered the bone. Today, we save the arm!” Hayden proclaimed, as if announcing a grand victory.

Thomas shifted his weight with a half-hearted chuckle, unsure if Hayden was joking or not.

*

Up on the main deck, the air was less about salvation and more about sheer, grueling efficiency. Korlai sat on an upturned crate, methodically running an oiled rag along the gleaming edge of a cutlass. Each practiced stroke was a study in care, a quiet ritual amidst the chaos.

Nearby, Finneas was a storm cloud of frustration. “No, you bilge rat! The line goes through the block, not around it! Are you trying to lose a finger?” His voice was a low growl, his patience worn.  A dozen new crewmen, their faces gaunt and eyes shadowed with exhaustion, fumbled with the unfamiliar rigging of the Abyss. 

Finneas despised inadequate minds, and he was currently surrounded by them, already mentally calculating which would be the most expendable in the skirmish he knew was coming.

A scrawny man, testing his new steel, poked the metal to his finger, instantly splitting it open with a sharp “F**k!”

“Damnit!” Finneas roared. “Get below to the doc. If you can’t resist stabbing yourself, you’re no use to me.” He scanned the ragged group, their hollow cheeks and sunken eyes a testament to hard lives made harder. “Frank! Where are you, Frank?”

“Aye, Finneas?” Frank called out from his station. 

“Get this sorry lot some oatmeal. They look like skeletons washed up on a beach.” Frank gave a hearty thumbs-up and vanished. Finneas dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Double rations,” he muttered to the sea air. “Until they look less like death.”

*

The captain’s quarters was completely destroyed.  Clothes were strewn across the floor, a shattered inkwell bled a dark stain over a navigational chart, and the bed itself was a tangled nest of linens.

In the center of it all, the two women lay entwined, the sweat cooling on their skin. Captain’s fingertips, calloused, traced the purple bruise that wrapped around Riley’s throat. Her touch was feather-light.

“Big f**ker almost got you, then?” Captain’s voice was low, a private rumble.

Riley’s head was pillowed on her arm. “Saw stars. Purple ones. Felt something warm and wet dripping down my neck, and then the bastard just… slouched over.”

Captain stared off with an unbroken thought, “Glad she was there to save you. Didn’t know the princess had it in her.”

Riley looked up towards the Captain with a somber expression. “Captain, there’s one more thing.” 

Riley paused to find the words. “In the cave– well it was dark. We had lost our torches and we went deep into the tunnels. Deeper than anyone has ever mapped out. Even after Aaliyah saved me, I was worried we might be lost to the dark.”

Riley now had the Captain’s full attention.

“Then this… white light. It just blasted through the black. Like the sun at high noon.”

“I don’t understand,” Captain stated plainly, sitting up fully to get a better look at Riley.

“It was Thomas, he had found this gem. It glowed so bright and with it we were able to find our way back with ease.”

“He found it?!” The captain's voice was of extreme suspicion. “Riley, what would a group of hunters have to do with what sounds like a Moon Gem?”

Riley’s hand found the Captain’s, her grip firm, an anchor in the unsettling revelation. “One of the hunters must’ve brought it in. A lucky charm.”

Captain shook her head, a short, sharp negation. “That lot would’ve slaughtered each other for a prize like that. They couldn’t keep a secret to save their own lives.”

“Captain,” Riley said, her voice dropping into a space of deliberate, chosen truth. “Thomas found it. He’s giving it to Finneas for safekeeping right now.” Her eyes held the Captain’s, imploring her to accept the simpler, safer fiction. “Thomas found it.”

The Captain held the gaze for a long moment, the gears of strategy and trust turning behind her pale blue eyes. The story was flimsy, but survival sometimes required accepting convenient lies. “Thomas found it,” she repeated, the words a reluctant concession. 

Finneas’ voice boomed from outside the door, “Captain! We have sails! Multiple!”

On deck, the wind tugged at Captain’s short hair as she lowered the telescope. Her face was a mask of cool composure. “Looks like they found us.” She handed the glass back to Finneas, her voice dropping to a dry, lethal whisper. “We should’ve killed Trudy when we had the chance.”

She turned to Riley, who had followed her up, now dressed and every bit the formidable first mate. The order was quiet, absolute, and carried the weight of the coming storm. “Ready the crew.”

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