Jenna was on the deck, practicing with her long sword and a dagger. Dexter came up behind her and cleared his throat, but she did not slow her rapid movements. “Need something, Captain?”
Dexter took the baldric off and, for lack of a better idea, said, “Try this,” and threw it in the air to her.
Jenna spun around, sliding her long sword in her scabbard smoothly and catching the baldric just before it hit the deck. She straightened up and looked at it, then at Dexter. She grinned and slipped it over her shoulder and tightened it.
“Not going to be much left of my first wages,” she said, smiling. “You ready for that rematch now?”
Dexter smirked and reached for his blade. He stopped, suddenly nervous. “You’re, um, you’re not going to take your clothes off, are you?”
Jenna laughed. “Only if you order me to, Captain.”
Dexter laughed. “Some other time maybe. For now, defend yourself.”
Jenna drew her sword and parried Dexter’s lunge, turning it over and driving his blade out so he was off balance and overextended. She kept his sword out and stepped in to his reach, driving her dagger towards him. She stopped the lethal motion in time enough to let the tip of it press against his abdomen.
“I win,” she said, smirking.
“Luck,” Dexter said, more than a little surprised at her extreme skill with the rapier. “Again.”
They dueled for several more minutes, and with the exception of one time, Jenna had him soundly beaten. Finally Dexter held up his hand to signal an end to it. “Not sure it’s safe for me to find a short sword too.”
Jenna just grinned. Not a sarcastic or fake grin, but one filled with the thrill of victory. “Thank you… Captain.”
Dexter nearly asked her what she meant, then decided either he already knew, or he did not want to. He nodded and gestured at the ant parked off in the distance. “Enough play, there’s work to be done. Time to earn your pay.”
“What’s this tub named, anyhow?” Jenna asked as the walked down the plank. The bow had yet to have a name painted into it.
Dexter glanced back at the ship. Hawk’s Talon was its old name, but the ship hardly resembled what it had once been. “The Voidhawk.”
Jenna glanced back up at it and nodded. “Good name.”
Chapter 2: Roshelle
There are several ways to find work for an enterprising captain. The most common was by word of mouth. Those that did well in the business built up a reputation at their ports of call. Those that did not… well, they were not long for the business.
Another way was to register at the dockyards. That tended to offer a captain far less choice about what he carried and who he worked for. It was not something Dexter, or many other captains, liked to chance. For the down and out, or for those that just did not care, it provided stable, if low paying, work.
An aggressive captain could make his way to local businesses, nobles, and of course the Federation offices to try and see if he could drum up any work. Doing that, however, put the captain at a weakened position when it came time for negotiations. Most owner / operators found it to be unpleasant work as well.
Of the most common options for landing a job, Dexter chose none of them. Instead he frequented some of the seedier bars and placed a few inquiries here and there that would be passed along. He expected this would letting those who were interested know he was available for work that, while not necessary sanctioned by the powers-that-be, tended to be a little more lucrative.
The Voidhawk remained safely stashed away in her shady little niche on the asteroid, lit only by the lightstones they placed throughout the ship’s interior and, when deckwork was necessary, on the deck. As dangerous as the Playground was, the kinds of people that traveled through it were equally treacherous, so they kept visible light to a minimum.
Dexter sat by himself, having taken the ant back to New Haven in the hopes of finding something to keep them all busy other than rebuilding the ‘Hawk. He worried he might have to raise more money if their unemployment continued much longer. He had no use for the ant once they were finished with the Voidhawk, it was too large, at nearly thirty feet long, to lash to the hull of the Voidhawk. Still, it had proven very useful to them and Kragor had put a lot of work into it. Maybe he would just leave it stored on their asteroid hideaway for safekeeping.
His musings were cut short by the approach of a scantily clad woman. He sized her up, appreciating what she was advertising even if something about her put him off. He paid her no further mind until sat down at the table he alone occupied.
“Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, her voice rougher than he expected. Reaching into a bag at her side she pulled out a smokestick from a metal tin. A snap of her fingers ignited a magical flame that caused the end to grow red. She puffed on it and exhaled a cloud of flavored smoke through her painted lips towards Dexter.
“Depends,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes out of her excessive cleavage. “What do you want?”
She took another drag on her smokestick, smiling around it, and then laughed as she exhaled the pungent smoke. Crossing her legs and displaying a criminal amount of thigh through a slit in her flowing skirts, she asked, “Maybe I want you?”
“Maybe I’m already taken,” Dexter replied, smiling back at her.
“That’s too bad, it would have been a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she said, licking her lips.
What she seemed to be offering suddenly clicked. “Go on,” he prompted, showing his interest.
“How about that drink?”
Dexter nodded, smiling. Such was the cost of doing business. He turned and raised his hand to catch a barmaid’s eye. She saw him and he gestured at his strange table mate. She nodded and headed for the counter.
“That’s better,” she said after taking a drink of the ale the barmaid delivered. Dexter handed the barmaid a silver piece, overpaying her on purpose.
“Man with that kind of money to throw around you might not need my kind of work,” she said.
Dexter shrugged. “These girls work hard and get little more than pinched bottoms and crude jokes in return. This keeps the water out of my ale and my food off of the floor.”
“You’re a rare man, Captain,” she said around another mouthful of smoke.
Dexter shrugged off the compliment, or what he interpreted as a compliment. “About that mutually beneficial arrangement?”
She smiled and dropped her smokestick to the floor, stepping on it and crushing the glowing cherry. “Yes, about that. You’re new to the business of shipping?”
Dexter shrugged. “Been around it my whole life, just been flying scout for the Feds up till now.”
“Word is you’ve had a disagreement with the Federation, spent some time in a cage I hear?”
Dexter shrugged again. “Word on the street is that my first mate is a half-giant that breathes fire too.”
She raised an eyebrow and then laughed. “Point taken. Enough of the past, let’s talk about the future. Our future.”
“To the future,” Dexter agreed, raising his glass and taking a small drink from it.
“I have some cargo I would like you to transport for me,” she said, looking at him closely for his reaction.
“I’m guessing this cargo be special, else you’d book it on a registered shipping charter.”
“You’re a clever man, Captain,” she congratulated him with only a hint of sarcasm. “I’d like to make sure it avoids inspections and the like.”
“Sounds like smuggling to me,” Dexter said, lowering his voice a little so no one else in the bar heard him. It was noisy enough and filled with enough people that he had little to fear. Still he felt safer for having done it.
“If you’re not interested,” she said, trailing off.
“Never said that,” Dexter replied with a smile. “I just like knowing what I’m getting my crew into is all.”
“You care about your crew?”
