“They’d added a little wood here and there and painted it up to resemble a… um…”
“Oh!” Jenna said, laughing. “I get it now.”
Dexter shrugged a little, blushing in spite of himself. He was glad she had made the jump in logic herself without him having to explain the Maiden’s Bane’s rams faint resemblance to a penis.
“Makes me glad I’m not maiden,” she said after a moment.
Dexter stared after her for a moment and then just shook his head and went below to examine the cargo a little more closely. He took the front stairs and poked his head in the bridge to tell Bekka to start them heading towards Traxxus III, but to avoid any shipping routes.
In the cargo deck Dexter, Jenna, and Kragor stared at the crates and barrels, wondering what it was they were carrying. “Fire powder, I bet,” Kragor said, eyeing one of the barrels.
“Could be,” Dexter offered. Fire powder was not illegal in smaller quantities, but a large shipment without a Federation charter would definitely be considered smuggling. A punishable offense, certainly, but not something dangerous enough to merit the kind of fee he had negotiated.
“Then what’s in these?” Jenna asked, tapping some longer and thicker crates. Dexter looked to Kragor and he looked back. Both shrugged indecisively.
“We could find out,” Jenna offered, tapping her dagger at her side.
“Best leave them be,” Dexter said. “We’ll have enough trouble with the Devil’s Breath and dodging the Feds, no sense in inviting anymore with our customer.”
Jenna frowned but nodded. She walked past the two and left the cargo hold, heading for her room.
“Elves!” Kragor cursed, shaking his head.
“Women,” Dexter corrected, commiserating with the dwarf.
They sailed for two weeks, alternating Bekka and Dexter on the helm in four hour shifts to keep them fresh. Dexter, with Bekka’s assistance, chartered a course that would take them clear of the more heavily patrolled areas of Federation space. There was still some risk, but thus far they avoided any hold ups and had maintained their speed.
The Voidhawk and her helm were holding up well under its first test. Bekka managed to charge it up and it was off of that power that they were running presently. Much to the sorceress’ relief Dexter had told her to stop pouring her energy into the helm. He saw the effect it had on her and he did not like it.
Their speed lagged as they began the second leg of their journey, passing through the edges of the Devil’s Breath. The Devil’s Breath was a giant gas cloud that, while not inhospitable for life, was very unpleasant. Sulfurous and cold, it made breathing a miserable experience. The vapors were not deadly but rumor had it spending extended time amongst the vapors would rob a person of a long life.
What was worse was the many creatures that had no care about the nature of the gas cloud. Ghost ships, the real sorts ran by powerful beings that had no need for breath or life, lay in wait amongst the Devil’s Breath. A few others took advantage of the dangerous nature of both the inhabitants and the cloud and set up bases near it. Anyone seeking refuge near the Devil’s Breath was, by their very nature, not someone Dexter wanted to run in to.
Skirting the gas cloud safely would have taken an extra week of time, a week that dodging Federation patrols had already robbed them of. On top of that, Dexter was wise enough to know anything could, and probably would, still happen.
Fully armed and with all hands on the deck, except for Dexter at the helm, they embarked on the most dangerous part of their voyage. Silence reigned on the deck of the ship leaving everyone taut with tension.
The stress stretched on throughout the multiple days spent sailing through the edges of the cloud. More than once the fumes sent one of them to their bunks with headaches, visions, or simple nausea. Bekka and Dexter rotated on the helm, and both looked more and more drawn with each shift as they strained with shorter rest periods to pilot the vessel clear of the Devil’s Breath.
It took nearly four to reach the edge of the gas cloud. Exhaustion tainted their relief at leaving the wispy tendrils behind. Less than a minute after reaching full sail the ship shuddered and dropped back to regular tactical speed, rousing everyone from the lethargy they had fallen into at the end of the stressful voyage. Dexter ran up on deck and scanned the void, cursing as he did so. Jenna came up from the aft stairs, one hand on her rapier and another on her dagger.
“Fires of hell, what’ve we got here?” Kragor cursed, staring at the three ships closing on them.
“An old warship, a scout, and a… ship,” Dexter said, eyeing the vessel that looked surprisingly familiar last.
“Can’t be the Maiden’s Bane,” Kragor said, eyeing the approaching vessel.
“Your friends are back,” Jenna said, walking up to them and nodding towards the approaching ship.
“Not my friends,” Dexter muttered. “Kragor, think we can outrun them?”
The dwarf and the elf both shook their heads in response to his question. “Not a chance, boy-o, she’s slim and narrow. A quick one, to be sure, and I’m for guessing the warship’s got weapons ready to pound us as we pass if’n we try.”
Dexter cursed. “Maybe they’re meeting us early?” Jenna suggested, knowing her suggestion was false.
“And maybe there’s too much air ‘tween yer pointy ears!” Kragor spat back at her.
Her grip tightened on her blades and she glared at the dwarf. Dexter ignored them and called out, “Bekka,” as he ran down the stairs and headed into the bridge.
She looked withdrawn and tired as soon as he saw her. “We can try to run, but I don’t think we can escape,” she said. “I channeled my power into the helm to give us a little more if we need it though.”
Dexter nodded, appreciative of her effort. “What about the Devil’s Breath?” he asked her.
Her eyes widened, then she shook her head. “We don’t have enough power to make it back through it, especially since we’d have to go slow.”
“But you could recharge us if we can just lose them, right?”
“Captain, we won’t survive. I’ve sensed things in there, things that would tear us apart.
“Damn it!” Dexter stared at his charts for a long second. “What in the hell are we supposed to do?”
“Surrender,” Kragor grumbled from the door to the bridge. “There be no other way.”
Dexter looked at him, feeling his breath sucked from his lungs. Kragor met his gaze and nodded.
“Aye, we just got her, but you showed me what we can do, long as we live we can get another ship,” the first mate said.
Dexter took in the bridge, his hands clasped into fists. Finally he took a deep breath and let it out, nodding his head. “Alright, wave the white flag.”
“Bekka, let’s go,” he said, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.
She stood up, staring at him with a great sadness in her eyes. She glanced away and walked out of the bridge. Dexter paused, admiring again the bridge of the Voidhawk, his first real ship, and sighed. A moment later he left the bridge behind him and went up the spiral staircase to the deck.
The Maiden’s Bane pulled up alongside and lines were tossed and secured. Several gruff looking crew members swarmed onto the deck, weapons raised and pointed at Dexter and his crew. Relieved of their weapons and bound with ties behind their backs they stood in silence waiting. The captain of the Maiden’s Bane crossed over. He paused long enough to admire Jenna before stepping in front of Dexter.
“Thanks for getting it past the Feds, you did us a favor,” he said, chuckling a little.
“I don’t suppose your name is Drevin,” Dexter asked.
“As a fact it is,” he said, grinning. “But this don’t count as on time or early delivery.”
“I thought she agreed to the fee too easily,” Dexter mumbled.
“Aye, that’ll teach ya to be getting greedy.”
“The pot has called the kettle black,” Bekka spoke up, unable to restrain herself.
Drevin walked over to her and without any warning backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip and making her cry out. He hit her again when she straightened, then turned back to Dexter.
“Taking women for crew ain’t the way o’ things, but my boys and I appreciate it all the same,” he said with a lecherous grin. He pointed to the Maiden’s Bane and said, “Throw ‘em in the hold, then stow their gear.”
“The ship, Captain?” Asked a scarred pirate.
“It’s in good shape, leave the cargo and have Karl pilot it back. Pick a dozen men for the rigging too,” he said,
