fell backwards, dropping his sword as he did so. With the other pirate off balance from the collision, Dexter ran him through with his new sword, then parried a final last ditch attack from the man before he fell to the ground and clutched his wounds. The grounded pirate scrambled to his feet and turned to flee.
Dexter hurried over to the bandit he had shot and pulled the pistol the man had at his side. He took aim and fired, hitting the running pirate in the back. He came to an abrupt stop, then tried to reach behind his back as though he could pull the bullet out. He turned in a staggering fashion to look back at Dexter. His mouth opened but no sound came out of it before he crumpled to the ground.
“Took you long enough!” Kragor called out from the ship.
Dexter waved at him and gathered the pistols from the other dead pirates, reloading them as quickly as he could. “There’s another ship out there, a Dart, and I’ve got to make sure it doesn’t get away!”
“Why?”
“It knows we’re in here and that we’re up to something,” Dexter pointed out. “Next time they’ll come bring meaner friends.”
“Oh…need any help?” Kragor asked.
Dexter looked around at the fallen bodies. His blood was still racing and he felt little more than exhilaration at his success. “I just killed three of them; I think I can handle one little ship. Clean up this mess and see if there’s anything we can use.”
Dexter headed towards the abandoned pirate skiff hearing Kragor muttering loudly, no doubt cursing his parentage. He examined it, noting it was damaged badly, but not enough to ground it.
The skiff lifted off and Dexter took care to mark where the ruined Ant had floated to, luckily, it had caught in the gravity of the asteroid. He retraced his path, hoping to see the Dart stranded somewhere. Disappointment flooded his skin along with a tinge of fear. If he couldn’t find them, he’d bet a month’s salary they’d return with reinforcements and steal his dreams.
Dexter returned to the asteroid, nearly out of power. With no magic to power the helm the ship would be as maneuverable as the rock the Hawk’s Talons rested upon. As it was, he was not sure he could land the skiff safely. Dexter cursed when he saw the Dart on the ground near the Hawk’s Talon. One of the pirates remained aboard the Dart, manning the light ballista. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Dexter took careful aim of the skiff and waited until there could be no mistake.
He leapt free of the skiff, trying his best to hit the ground rolling. The impact knocked the wind out of him and blackness tugged at his vision. When Dexter’s head cleared he stared at the great pile of scrap lumber. The pirate and the ballista he manned were nowhere to be found.
“There’d better be a charge in your Gnat, Fed pig, because after I kill you I need a ride off this rock!”
Dexter groaned and rolled over. A pirate stood a few feet from him, pistol pointed at him. “Hurry up and do it, it’ll hurt less.”
“Lose the weapons,” the pirate said, gesturing at his weapon belt around his hip.
Dexter glanced down, amazed his sword was still on him. He reached down and loosened his belt slowly, remembering at the last to untie the holster from his thigh. He tugged it free and tossed it off to the side cursing as he did so; he felt as though he was covered with bruises and scratches. He pulled a dagger from his boot and added it to the pile.
“Now get up, your buddy’s got himself locked in that wreck and you’re going to help us get him out. Maybe, if you play nice, we’ll leave you two stranded here,” the pirate said.
Groaning for effect, Dexter rose up to face the pirate. Once on his feet, he turned his head to look at the scattered remains of the two small boats. Broken wood and metal fittings were scattered throughout the shadowy depression. He saw the pirate take a step closer to him and reach out to grab him.
Dexter whistled. “That’s got to hurt.”
“What?” The pirate asked, his extended arm hesitating.
Dexter’s twisted his body and grabbed the only other pistol that had remained on him when he had crashed. It was tucked into his pants in the small of his back. He raised his gun and fired it at the off-balance pirate.
The pirate jerked, firing his own flintlock high and just over Dexter’s head. Not thinking about the close call, Dexter crashed into him and bore him to the ground. He clubbed him repeatedly with the spent pistol until the pirate’s face resembled a rotten tomato.
Dexter rose, breathing heavily and fighting the urge to give in to his aches and collapse. After gathering his weapons he made his way to the hole in the hull, reloading his pistols as he went.
“I’ll keep this rat cornered, go check on Turval!”
Dexter ducked to the side of the open doorway leading from the cargo hold into the companionway of the ship. He waited several seconds, listening and trying to keep his breathing calmed. In short order he heard the footsteps of the pirate walking down the hall. The man walked into the room, catching a glimpse of Dexter out of the corner of his eye.
The pirate yelped and swung around, bringing his pistol to bear. Dexter swung his pistol up and knocked the pirates aside. The impact twisted the flintlock in the pirates grip and made him pull the trigger, sending out a deafening blast. Dexter’s reclaimed sword plunged into the pirate’s belly and up into his chest. He yanked on it once, forcing it in deeper, then pulled it out and let the dying pirate fall.
The ringing in his ears made his eyes water and his head swim. He shook his head, bracing himself against the wall of the ship with his sword arm, and then checked his pistol to make sure the hammer was back and ready to fire. He peered through the door and saw a lone pirate remaining, glancing back and forth nervously between the closed door to the bridge and the doorway that his companion had gone through. When he saw Dexter he spat out language that proved he was a sailor first and a pirate second.
“I’ve got your runt, you come up here and I’ll kill him!”
Dexter aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through his cheek and out the back of his head. The pirate jerked and flopped to the ground, flailing in death spasms a handful of times before he lay still.
Dexter glanced about, wondering if any more pirates were in hiding. His back locked in pain as he attempted to take a step into the companionway. He gasped loudly for breath, the inhalation causing agony to spread from his ribs. The adrenaline fled, leaving him wheezing and dizzy. He tried again to move, reaching for the wall to steady himself. He missed, overbalancing in the process and crashing into the hallway with a fresh explosion of misery.
Dexter looked up at Kragor standing in the now open door to the bridge. The dwarf regarded the dead pirate at his feet with a scowl. “I’m not a runt!” Kragor said, kicking the corpse. “I’m tall for a dwarf…and stout!”
Kragor kicked him again then turned to Dexter.
A laugh emerged from Dexter’s lips, causing him no small amount of misery. He coughed, wracking up some blood that ran down his chin and drooled to the floor.
“Gods, boy-o, what’ve ya done to yourself?”
“Repelling borders,” Dexter wheezed, glad to know he could hear his friend, even if he did sound miles away.
Kragor chuckled. “I’d of helped, had ya told me you was out here,” he said when he saw the other dead pirate in the hold. “This the last of them, then?”
“Aye,” Dexter said, reaching out to grab the doorjamb and slowly using it to help pull himself up to his feet.
“How bad are ya?” Kragor asked him, looking at him nervously.
“Half deaf and half dead,” Dexter muttered. He saw the look of genuine concern on Kragor’s face and forced a bloody smile. “Broken ribs, bruises, some scrapes…think I damn near bit my tongue off at some point. Oh! I crashed that skiff into the Dart too.”
Kragor’s mouth opened and he peered past Dexter and out the hole in the hull. “Gods, boy, so you did! Didn’t no one tell ya not to ram a docked ship before?”
“Ramming was a two day lesson, I skipped the second day,” Dexter quipped. “Besides, it turned out the guy waiting outside wasn’t so tough without his ship.”
Kragor shook his head and then brightened visibly. “This is the best bit of supplies you’ve brought me yet!”
Confused, Dexter turned and looked out at the scattered wreckage. He chuckled. “So I did.”
“You’re not going to be worth a damn for work, you should head back now and make up a good story,” Kragor
