Sheah’s shoes tore against the cobblestone of a darkened alleyway as the pair of pirates dragged her deeper into seclusion. Away from prying eyes and ears, the pirate captain planted her boots and violently heaved Sheah into the brick wall.

  Sheah let out a cry, her voice muffled by the cloth gag tied around her mouth. A sharp sting surged across her back. Fighting through the pain, she sprang forward defiantly, pushing with all of her strength to break free and flee. The Vulture’s hand quickly planted itself into her sternum, and Sheah was shoved back into the wall with even greater force. Winded by the impact, she slumped to the ground, holding her bound hands close to her chest for comfort.

  The Vulture and Wesli leered over Sheah, inspecting their latest catch. “Thought you could hide from me?” the pirate captain crowed. “Thought I’d forget one of the scum that blew a hole in my ship? The second those corpos spewed out the name of your miserable rattler, I knew it was you.” The Vulture glared into Sheah’s eyes and threw her a twisted smile. “And it looks like your Verloren pals ain’t gonna be around to save you this time.”

  “Yeah, guess they ain’t so sweet on you no more,” Wesli sneered sarcastically. He pulled his gun from his belt and rubbed it menacingly along Sheah’s cheek. She snapped back her head and cried frightfully through her gag. “Now, why don’t we decorate some walls?—Ow!”

  “What’s a matter with you?!” the Vulture snarled, smacking her first officer on the back of the head.

  “Well, I just thought—”

  “You ever hear of a corp payin’ out for a dead mark?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “We turn her into that slicker ship—alive—and we collect big on that bounty.”

  Wesli thrust out his jaw nervously. “But what if her crewmates come to rescue her?”

  “Psh,” the Vulture scoffed. “We’ll get to ‘em first. They’re in this town somewhere. And for them…” She drew her flashy pistol from its holster. “We might wanna play it safe. They’re trouble, unlike this one.”

  Sheah seethed. The indignity of being captured, of being insulted, it was already more than she could bear. And now these putrid pirates were threatening to harm her crew. Every thought of self-preservation flew from her mind. Her face glowing red with resentment, Sheah leaned forward and screamed every curse she could conjure, unbothered by the mouthgag turning her words to aural mush.

  The Vulture and Wesli simply stared at her for a moment before breaking out into cackling laughter.

  “I think she’s mad!” chortled Wesli.

  “Oh, did you have something to say? Aww, poor little thing,” said the Vulture, laying her mockery on thick.

  Sheah ignored the pirates as they continued to berate her. She tucked in her feet and began to gracelessly shimmy her back up along the wall.

  “Uh oh, she’s gettin’ up,” laughed Wesli.

  “Aw, look at her. She’s so fragile. Can’t even survive five minutes on her own.”

  Climbing to her feet, Sheah stood firmly upright. She stared the Vulture in the eye, her body growing tense with adrenaline.

  The Vulture flashed her a crooked grin. “Mommy and daddy won’t buy your way outta this one.”

  With a swift kick, Sheah rammed her heel squarely into the Vulture’s kneecap.

  “Gyah, bitch!!”

  As the Vulture clutched her knee, Sheah exploded forward. She plowed her shoulder into the captain’s chest with all her might, knocking her off her feet and into the neighboring wall of the alleyway.

  “What the—” Wesli leapt back and stared at his fallen captain, a stupefied look drooling down his face.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Sheah flew towards the road, sprinting as fast as her legs would take her.

  “Stop her, idiot!” barked the Vulture. The situation suddenly dawning on him, Wesli gave chase, tripping over his leader as he took off.

  Sheah sprang from the alleyway and onto the street, running down the road in a random direction. Desperately scanning the village for help, she shouted through her gag at the top of her lungs. To her dismay, the road was empty, the townspeople all sequestered into their homes during suppertime hours.

  The patter of pirate footsteps emerged onto the street behind her, growing steadily louder.

  A hundred meters down the way, Sheah suddenly spotted sanctuary—the sign dangling over the road with the words ‘Sheriff’ etched into the wood. She picked up her pace, pushing her legs so hard they burned, flinging herself towards the sheriff’s station with everything she could muster.

  As she neared the shack, Sheah turned her head to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. Wesli was closing in, only a few paces away, his eyes tense with ire. Sheah let out a squeal. She raced up the station’s steps, clawing at her mouth gag with her bound hands. Loosening it just enough to speak, she burst into the door.

  “Constable Lange!” she shouted.

  To her horror, all that greeted her was an unoccupied desk and a pair of empty jail cells. Before she could react, a set of dirty hands clamped themselves over her arms. With great force, they dragged her out of the station and threw her down the steps. Sheah tumbled onto the cobblestone, writhing in pain as Wesli stormed down the stairs after her. The pirate flipped her onto her front and dug his weight into the small of her back.

  “Ah! No! Noo!! HELP!!” Sheah cried, overcome by panic.

  “Stop struggling!” barked the pirate, working to wrestle Sheah still as she thrashed about, kicking and screaming.

  The Vulture hobbled down the road with a pronounced limp. Finally catching up to the pair, she threw her arms onto Sheah’s shoulders, pinning her face to the ground. With great difficulty, Wesli reset Sheah’s mouth gag, barely escaping with unbitten fingers, before moving to bind her legs together.

  Sheah’s flailing slowed, her energy draining, her body spent. As the pirates tightened the bindings, a sober realization seeped into her mind. She had no more means of escape—this was her end. Be it by pirates or Verloren, she would likely soon be dead.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Suddenly, the shrill blast of a whistle rang out over the village. The two pirates twitched, startled by the sound. They paused their tying and swung their heads around, confused.

  “…What are y’all doin?” sighed a woman’s husky voice from a few meters behind them.

  Sheah’s heart leapt; a jolt of hope surged through her.

  She knew that voice.

  The pirates and their captive all turned their heads to find Sheriff Lange sauntering down the road towards them. Seemingly unconcerned with the Sheriff’s arrival, the two pirates huffed and returned to their task of binding Sheah’s legs.

  “This ain’t none of your concern, wastelander,” growled the Vulture.

  “Oh, I think it is my concern,” replied Lange, pocketing her whistle. “You’re makin’ a mess in my town, and I don’t like havin’ to clean.”

  “The Captain said shove off!” barked Wesli.

  “I heard what she said.” Casually, Lange slipped her revolver from her holster. “And if you heard what I said, you’d leave Miss Sheah alone.”

  Clearly not the types to take being threatened, the two pirates angrily sprang to their feet. They whipped out their own pistols and aimed them straight at Lange’s heart.

  Lange didn’t even bat an eyelash. “You know the score, Divarra,” she lectured. “You want to use our town, you obey our rules. And that means no trouble. And if you don’t wanna listen, well…”

  Lange gestured her head to the shops and homes around her. A gaggle of tough and rugged villagers emerged onto the porches of the buildings, most armed with pistols, blades, and shotguns. They broadcast menacing glares, as if daring the two pirates to give them a reason.

  “So, I suggest you stand down.”

  The Vulture darted her eyes back and forth, slight worry visible in the corners of her mouth as she took in the growing odds against her. Wesli hunched his shoulders and looked to his captain anxiously, clearly in favor of surrender. Gradually the Vulture’s face turned a deep crimson. She bore her teeth, the veins in her neck bulging with rage. Unleashing a defeated growl, she threw her weapon back into its holster.

  “Good move,” said Lange. “Now, I want you and your crew gone at first light.”

  “That so?” the Vulture seethed.

  Lange nodded with professional composure. “I saw your ship. It’s patched up by now, I reckon. I think it’s time you lot were on your way. And I don’t aim to repeat myself.”

  The pirate captain stewed, her clenched knuckles turning white. “Fine!” she snapped, angrily grabbing her first officer by the arm. “Let’s go!” She took a disrespectful step over Sheah and snarled into her face. “I’ll be seeing you again, princess. Real soon.”

  The Vulture and her first officer stomped down the road. As they retreated, Wesli took one last opportunity to flash a set of obscene gestures at the Sheriff and the townspeople before pettily kicking over a trash can. Smugly satisfied with his act of rebellion, he jogged back up to his captain and together the pair turned the corner, disappearing from sight and mind.

  Lange loosened her shoulders, her tough look melting to one of great relief. To Sheah’s surprise, the sheriff was apparently far more nervous about the standoff than she had let on. With a smile and a thankful wave, Lange addressed the townspeople around her. They returned strong nods and salutes before quietly shuffling back into their abodes.

  Holstering her gun, Lange rushed over to Sheah, worry written over her face. “You alright, Miss Sheah?” she asked, cutting Sheah free from her bindings and helping her up.

  Once firmly on her feet, Sheah flung out her arms, slapping away the sheriff’s concerns. “I’m fine! I am fine!” she declared, distraught and beyond embarrassed to have been seen in such a compromising situation. Hands on her hips, she paced around in circles, attempting to curb her rapid breathing and her flash flood of feverish thoughts. It was a losing battle. Her legs began to shake as tears welled in her eyes. Throwing herself towards the station, she collapsed onto the stoop and buried her head in her hands. Quietly, she began to whimper.

  “Hey now, it’s okay. You’re safe,” soothed Lange, her large eyes filled with compassion. She walked over and placed a gentle hand on Sheah’s shoulder. “You want me to get your mechanic friend?”

  Sheah shook her head, unable to form the proper words. All she could do was let it all out. She slumped over in silence, sobbing into her hands as the adrenaline dissipated from her body. After what felt like several minutes she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, her shock turning to a weary emptiness.

  “You feelin’ better, Miss Sheah?” asked Lange with a friendly smile.

  Sheah sat for a long moment, staring out into space, her shame gnawing at her in a constant loop. “You needn’t concern yourself with me,” she finally muttered.

  “Ah, don’t be sayin’ that. ‘Course I should.” Lange took a seat on the steps next to Sheah, nestling up beside her. “Sounds to me like somethin’s on your mind.”

  “I’m not worth your time…” Sheah mumbled.

  “I got all the time in the world for you, Miss Sheah.” Lange looked deep into her eyes and smiled. “Go on, I’m all ears.”

  Sheah exhaled a long sigh. “…Everybody is right,” she said. “I don’t belong out here. I can’t even shop for supplies without being threatened or harassed. I’m an outsider, a pathetic weakling, always in need of a savior…”

  “Who’s sayin’ this?” asked Lange, looking around the town playfully. “Only folks I heard was sayin’ how impressive it is that the owner of the new ship in town is so young and well-favored. You sure it ain’t all in yer head?”

  “They needn’t say it aloud,” Sheah replied. “I can see it on their faces. My team, the Union, the villagers—everyone. They only see a sheltered, meek little girl from the capital… Which is what I am…”

  “Ah, you don’t seem meek to me. Sure, you got in a bit of a pickle, but we all gotta start out somewhere. No sense beatin’ yourself up about it.”

  Sheah whimpered, her eyes filling with tears once more. “…I’m just… I’m not cut out for this… Not like the others… Not like you…”

  Lange’s smile faded. She looked at Sheah with solemn, sympathetic eyes. Scooting in closer, she sat with her in meditative silence for a short while.

  “Ya know, you remind me a lot of myself,” she finally said.

  “You don’t need to patronize me…”

  “I’m bein’ serious,” Lange asserted. “When I were your age I felt stuck in the Empire. People always tellin’ me how to live, actin’ like they knew best. ‘Go here, do this. That money you earned, that belongs to the government now’.”

  Sheah shot her a confused glance, staring to lose the thread.

  “Point is, I got sick of folks tellin’ me what for,” Lange recovered. “And so I set off on my own, and eventually I ended up here—my home. You may feel lost now, but you’ll find your way in time. We all do.”

  Sheah lightly lifted her head. Perhaps Lange had a valid point. It was possible that she had been putting too much pressure on herself. After all, as long as she lived to see another day, she could learn, and in time she might become that person she wished to be. Softly, Sheah’s sorrow faded from her face.

  Noticing her change in expression, Lange perked up and lightly elbowed Sheah on the arm. “And hell, you already got yourself a ship and a mighty fine crew. Sounds to me like you’re well on your way already.”

  “I just…” Sheah lifted her hands, her sadness shifting to frustration. “I just feel like nobody wants to listen to me.”

  “Then make em’ listen,” said Lange. “You got a strong heart, I knew it when I first saw you. I mean, you just escaped from pirates. That ain’t no easy feat.”

  “I barely escaped.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a firecracker, Sheah Ziedler. I don’t got any doubt in my mind. And your crew will see it too. You just gotta show ‘em.”

  …A firecracker…

  Sheah stared deep into Lange’s hazel eyes. She could see in them, written clear as day, that she truly did believe in her. And if a woman like Lange thought she had strength, then perhaps she really did. Perhaps she wasn’t a lost cause after all. Sheah smiled, her chest swelling with confidence for the first time in months.

  Lange sprang to her feet and extended a hand. “C’mon, Miss Sheah. Let me escort you back to your ship.”

  The last of Sheah’s worries melted away. She reached up and took Lange’s hand. The Sheriff hoisted her to her feet and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. Sheah stiffened, her ears reddening at Lange’s gentle touch. Together the two women strolled down the road to the garage, enjoying the quiet stillness of the town as it slipped into evening.

  “…Do you think Jira and Kaelis are okay?” asked Sheah, her mind wandering.

  “What, Brighteyes?” chuckled Lange. “Oh, I’m sure she ain’t havin’ no trouble.”