It doesn’t take us long to move out, and I jog with the others to the centuriclimos. This one has been outfitted to be faster than most. It’s sleep, built like a bullet, and it cuts through the air seamlessly.
Frankie’s place looks like a heavy wind would knock it over. It’s thin but long, and a few of us head inside to wait there. Strol and I and plenty of others take refuge in the surrounding foliage, hiding and waiting.
It takes precisely two minutes for Frankie’s boat to come into view. I wish I could have binoculars to be able to see him, but we were told not to bring them. The angle of the sun and the glinting of the light reflecting would have alerted Frankie to our presence, so that’s a no-go.
A spot on my upper back itches, but I ignore it. My thigh muscles are already growing tight from crouching, but I stay low, using a tall bush to hide me. My rifle is raised, but I can’t line up a shot, not from this angle. Even if I stood, I wouldn’t be able to aim. The boat is a tall one.
The water laps lazily, and the boat isn’t moving all that swiftly. If he’s going to dock, he’s about two minutes out yet, and I glance over at Strol. He’s staring straight at the point, and then he shouts, “Get down!”
A volley of gunfire sweeps out from the boat. Frankie’s shooting up his own house. Did he know that we’re here? Is he just guessing we’re here? Or has he gone entirely mad?
It’s when he has his boat start to turn sideways to line up his cannons with the house that Strol shouts out a curse.
“Should we fall back to the ship?” I ask him.
“No. Concentrate all of your fire on the ship. Aim for beneath the cannons. Let’s sink him,” Strol says.
The orders quickly make their way through down the line, and I nod to him and head to the back of the house to tell those inside and also to check on them. No one appears injured, and the ones I first find start to fire on the boat. The firing sounds impressive, but I also know we have only a few minutes before we’re going to have to evacuate the building if we can’t sink those cannons and the boat.
But then I smell blood. One of the soldiers did get hit.
“Just a flesh wound,” she says when I see her.
She’s right. It’s a graze but right on her neck, and I quickly yank out a First Aid kit and bandage her up.
“How are we looking?” I shout as I grab my rifle.
Before anyone can answer, there’s a tremendous roar. I brace myself, waiting for a cannonball to sear through the wall, but nothing happens.
Then, a raucous cheer goes up.
I race to the nearest window.
The boat. It’s heavily leaning on one side, the cannons all submerged. Several of Frankie’s goons are jumping into the water, abandoning ship, trying to swim away.
Two other soldiers help the wounded one out even though she protests that she’s fine. I’m already racing way ahead of them and glance around as soon as I hit the shore.
Strol is nowhere in sight.
There he is. I see his blue head bobbing in the water. He’s swimming to the boat.
All around me, other soldiers are capturing Frankie’s goons, arresting them. They aren’t putting up much of a fuss, but Frankie… Where is he? I didn’t think he would be the kind to go down with his ship. I’m betting he has something up his sleeve.
I dive into the water. Strol has a far lead on me, but he also hasn’t been swimming his entire life. In fact, he’s more or else trying to drag himself through the water rather than swimming.
It’s not an easy feat, but I swim as fast as I can, and I’m almost there beside him when I hear footsteps on the boat. No, not on the boat. In it.
Strol ducks down, and he doesn't submerge. I have a feeling he's entering the ship through the cannon holes, and I duck down to see. Yes. We did knock some of the cannons down, so there is a gaping hole.
I swim up to the surface, inhale deeply, and submerge myself, heading for that opening. It takes me a bit to find where I have to go to get my head above water, and my lungs burn, my chest heaving by the time I reach the surface.
Strol is there, gasping and heaving away. He’s barely able to roll over onto his stomach, but I’m already on my feet, trying to find a way to walk despite the tilted surface of the boat.
“Don’t come any closer,” Frankie says darkly.
I stare at him. He has a wild look in his eye, and he’s holding a match near barrels.
He grins as he follows my gaze. "I'll blow this ship up sky-high. I don't give a rat's ass if I die too, but you two fuckers have cost me everything. I love—"
“You don’t love Nina. You just wanted to fuck her, and she told you to go fuck yourself. Then she decided she wanted to go to Kuria to help them technology, and you—”
“She’s nothing but a goddamn whore.”
“You’re nothing but an ovian bastard,” Strol says, moving to stand beside me. He’s dripping wet, but he holds up a strange-looking blade.
“Insult me all you like. Welcome to—”
Strol throws his blade. He doesn’t hit Frankie. No, the blade whips on by above the match so quickly that the wind causes the match to blow out.
Frankie mutters a curse as the blade burrows itself into the side of the ship. As he reaches inside his pocket for—a matchbox? A weapon? I don’t know. I just launch myself at him. My knee connects with
