Open Waters, Fleet Territory

  Mid-Dry Season, Year 17

  After throwing a few rounds of dice and exchanging some heated words with some of the sailors, our relationship changed from murderous to unfriendly to ‘this guy’s alright’ as we sailed on. Even the captain - Alan was his name - joined in. Not that it did anything for my master plan of having them drop me off somewhere but, well, at least I tried.

  Somewhere near the end of the second week, the sky started to darken. A sudden sharp darkening like a sudden storm in the rainy season, or that ‘clips’ thing that one time that made noon go dark. There was no cause for it, no visible clouds overhead or anything blocking the sun. Just a grim darkening that had me clenching for hours, waiting for something to go wrong.

  By sunset, a dark swirling hellcloud appeared on the horizon and - against all odds - it made me feel…better. It was an angry spiralling cloud, a visibly twisting vortex from the heavens down to the sea, flashing with jagged cracks of lightning and almost throwing darkness out towards us. We sailed directly towards it for days and it only grew bigger and bigger without seeming to get closer - and I felt lighter and healthier every day.

  The cloud was gigantic, which was an obvious statement in a “wow, the waves are salty today” sort of way. But it made me feel small, like I was looking up at something massive but welcoming, something that was inviting me to climb it and see the view from the top. It stretched wider and wider as we approached until it filled almost the entire view ahead of us, replacing the far edge of the world. I could just make out a dark shape in the centre of it before the ship turned to the side, catching a strong breeze from the spiralling cloud and cutting through the waves at a speed far greater than our previous sailing pace. There was no more time for dice games or swapping stories as the sailors worked around the clock to keep us on track, racing across the waves until a small sandy handful of islands came into view.

  That was how I found myself at Port Pelagie - a big name for some leftover pieces of beach and sandy islands we were standing on. There wasn’t anything fancy. The ship sailed up and put down a big plank to one of the larger islands, with a half dozen dark canvas tents standing across them. A few Seamen-

  Heh.

  A pair of bored looking Seamen came aboard to collect me, two beige assholes with a seaweed ponytail, and buzzcut between them. Life being what it was, I went with them and they walked me down the plank to one of the tents, a space that was full of cushioned beds on wooden pole frames. I whistled in appreciation as they walked me to one of the beds, gesturing towards it. “A whole bed? You shouldn’t-” I looked back but they were already leaving the tent, wandering off to…I don't know, harass some other guy trying to make a living.

  All said, they didn't leave much of an impression, not like the other Seamen-

  Heh.

  Not like the other Seamen I'd met. It was hard to say what it was exactly. They just…didn’t stand out. They weren’t threatening, or memorable, just…some people. It was weird.

  On the bed was a square of folded black with sandals on it, spots of sparkling metal just catching sunlight through the flaps of the tent. “Is this mine?” I muttered. I looked back, just to check if they’d hung around outside-.

  I was completely alone.

  …I didn't know what to do with that. From what I could see, there were only so many islands here and they weren’t very big. There wasn't exactly anywhere I could run away to. So I get it, but a little more information would've been nice.

  I put the shoes aside and unfolded the cloth, revealing a black jumpsuit with bronze buttons down the front. A brown canvas belt fell out as it unfolded, a bronze buckle shaped like a sailing ship in a frame at the end of it. I took off my old clothes and put it on, like I figured was the point, and stretched to test where the loose fabric would bunch and how I'd need to work around it.

  To my surprise, there wasn't any. No tight spots, either. The whole thing sat close to my skin without getting in my way, a thick layer of material that was already doing a good job of keeping the sand, sun, and wind off.

  Why they gave me sandals with that was anybody's guess.

  I climbed out from the tent and wandered around for a bit across the sand, eventually catching sight of some figures in the distance and making my way over there. The islands were just high enough to walk between them without getting into the waves, but the wet sand wasn't making me too happy.

  Eventually I got close enough that a Seaman dressed identically to me but standing on the side saw me and pointed to one of the lines of people standing in the centre of the island. I raised an eyebrow at her and she gestured again and I walked over, sticking my hands in- not my pockets because those aren't there on this jumpsuit. I put my hands on my hips and waited.

  There I was, just pissing into the breeze - metaphorically - standing in the front row of a barnload of people, dressed in the uniform of the Fleet: a black jumpsuit with bronze buttons down the front, with the few other things I could call my own who knows where. Everybody else was dressed the same, and if you think that’s a comfort, we should play dice sometime.

  Still, they all had some manner of Scab: from seaweed growing out their feet to a guy with coral teeth, there was no doubt about it. Everybody here had the blood of a Seaman running through their veins, and the means to prove it.

  I reached back, scratching the spot under my right shoulder blade where the mysterious King's whatever lay, a painful knife in the dark waiting for me to hit a guy it thought was beneath me.

  “Is there a problem with your equipment, trainee?” a voice asked from behind me, coarse and whisper quiet.

  “No?” I said, looking back at the bald-headed woman who had appeared over my shoulder and was currently giving me a sour look. She had a dramatic face, pebbly bright blue ridges of coral grew out over her eyes, a sharp sight against her amber features. They cast harsh shadows on her face, giving her a feeling like a…a haunting sea spirit on the verge of fury.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Then stop scratching yourself like a farm animal. You’re a Seaman. Act like it,” she said, and the magic was gone. She turned her head to look around at everyone else. Actually, how did she get behind me? When did she get behind me? Was that a Seaman thing? We’d been out here for the better part of an hour, waiting for someone to tell us anything. Nobody was standing behind us. All our minders were quietly off to our right. In fact - I took a quick look back - there was just open sea past the people behind me. “That goes for all of you! Whatever you were before, wherever you came from, none of that matters.”

  She strode past me, dressed in the same black jumpsuit but hidden beneath a quilted armour layer fastened on the diagonal with bronze clasps, and thick bronze greaves on her shins. “You now belong to the Fleet! You serve the Fleet first and foremost! You serve the Fleet and when you serve the Fleet, you all benefit!” She turned her head, gazing across the crowd, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before she continued. “You’ve been sent here from all corners, from all walks of life, and from all sorts of families. From this moment on, none of that matters. You are Trainees, and you will remain Trainees until I see fit, whereupon you will be dispensed to your final Flotillas.” Oh, hey, someone else pulling the ‘until you’re someone else’s problem’ deal. ”Form into groups based on your row. Until you graduate from training or die, that is your squad. The person at the rightmost end of the row is your squad captain.”

  I glanced around, wondering how near to the captain I was, and frowning as I realized only one person stood to the left of me. That was some rank bullshit.

  “If you have a complaint? Talk to your captain. If you need help? Talk to your captain. If you need supplies, training, or anything at all? Talk to your captain.” She put her arms behind her back, eyebrows raised. “Your superior’s time is valuable. If you bring frivolous complaints to your captain and waste their time, they have...a reasonable degree of latitude in administering punishment. You will not waste mine. If I have to speak to any of you, I expect it will be to administer punishment. If there isn’t punishment to be had, I’ll give you one just so you understand the value of my time. Captains? If you have issues, you may come to me.

  “I am Ensign Otilia. Enjoy your training.”

  I saw her four days later, staring at me with mild disapproval, my ‘captain’ standing beside her with half of his face a swollen bruise. I grinned at him, earning a fierce glare in response, and struggled against the ropes binding me to the wooden post, the sand shifting underfoot.

  We were standing on one of the smallest islands, maybe ten steps across if I was being generous, and nerve-wrackingly close to sea level. Although, the sound of the waves lapping at the beach barely earned more than a glance from me now, with how long I’d been out here. “Hey,” I said. “You think this half-assed torture is gonna make me respect you? You’re a damn dog.” I spat at his feet-

  I gasped for breath, my throat feeling like someone had been sitting on it for a day. “Do not dare to be so vulgar as to spit in front of me, Trainee,” Ensign Otilia said, brusquely.

  I coughed life back into my throat, staring at her through watery eyes. I didn’t even see her move. What the hell was that? Or- wait a minute. Was she just fast? Were all Seamen just really fucking fast? Was that how they kept getting behind me?

  “This is what I’ve been dealing with, Ensign,” Dennis said. “He questions everything. He has no- no manners, no respect for anything!”

  “Why-” I coughed, chuckling at his stupid angry face. “Why would I have respect for you? When my fists can do everything you can?”

  Dennis shook in place for a moment, clenching his hands. I’d had him figured out since our first conversation. He was soft, like the kids from the clean side of town, too unwilling to throw a punch back and just hoping it would all go away if he played nice. The kind that were willing to talk shit until you asked them to defend it, then they tripped over themselves to make you go away. I knew I’d have him throwing away the captain spot within a day, and none of these other shitlords deserved to be in charge either.

  But then he didn’t. He just...took it, getting more and more upset. He did weird shit in retaliation, like telling me to go run laps, or having my bed removed from the barracks. He even took away my shower privileges the last two days which, just...what the hell was his game?

  Eventually, he got upset enough to take a swing at me and as a collector of fine swings myself, I felt like it’d have been a missed opportunity if I didn’t let him see mine.

  Fast forward 6 hours and the rest of the squad dogpiling me and tying me to a goddamn log the size of a wagon wheel, before leaving me on a sand dune.

  “You-” Dennis said, pausing as the Ensign held up a hand.

  “Why are you here? You don’t seem like the usual sort to join the Fleets,” she asked.

  “Huh?” I said, frowning. “Nobody tell you? I’m here ‘cause some dumbass thinks I’m a Seaman and wanted to stir shit up. Besides, why the hell wouldn’t I want to? Nobody messes with the Fleets. Sounds like a pretty good deal.”

  Otilia looked at me, tapping one arm against her leg absently, a dull tapping sound like a sack of potatoes against a chest. “I see,” she said. “And you have some...history with Dennis here? Family conflict, or some other cause for enmity?”

  “Me? Nah, I just met the guy this week,” I said, wondering where she was going with this. “Haven’t even known him long enough to hate him. That’s what...ennity is, right?”

  “What? But- you...all those things about my family. How would-?” Dennis said, confused.

  “Kid, all you silver spoons are the same,” I said. “Besides, you’re a million years too early to really go up against me. One little crack about your mother and your face does- that.” He looked away, trying to twist his face back into something neutral. “Don’t worry about it. The way you look now, you should be happy she can’t see-”

  “You son of a bitch!” Dennis yelled, stepping forward and punching me in the gut.

  I grunted, giving him a wry grin. “Better,” I said. “I’d give you some pointers but.” I struggled against the ropes to demonstrate.

  “I- I apologize, Ensign,” Dennis said, looking at me with his face twisted. “I lost control of myself.”

  She waved a hand at him. “If I thought it was unwarranted, I’d have stopped you.” She looked at me pointedly. “You. Why are you antagonizing him?”

  “Because I want him to give me the captain spot, obviously,” I said, scoffing.

  “You- that’s it?” Dennis said, confused. “That’s why you’ve been...saying all this? Doing all this? You shit in my cot!”

  “Hey,” I cut him off. “I’m not an animal. I didn’t shit there.”

  “That’s- worse! You’ve been tormenting me for days without end! You didn’t even ask for it!”

  “Yeah, like you’d have given it to me if I’d done that,” I muttered.

  “I would! I don’t even want it!” he yelled, throwing his hands up.

  I looked at him, then at the Ensign, then back at him. “Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s easy. You mind untying me then, so we can all go ho-?”

  “You have an issue with how my squads are determined?” Otilia said, finger stilling against her leg.

  “No, not really. Frankly, I don’t care. But nobody just gets to be the boss of me,” I said. The ensign raised an eyebrow and I swallowed, looking to the side. “Alright, but I can’t take you in a fight. I can take him.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Dennis said, putting one hand on his face. “All this...this pointless garbage-”

  “You’re a troublemaker,” Otilia said, looking at me with a shine in her eyes I did not fuckin’ like. “I thought you might have been…” she waved a hand. “An imbecile, maybe. Or some sort of base addict, suffering delusions without your vice. But I know what to do with troublemakers.”

  I leaned back, finding the log holding me here much more of an issue than it was a minute ago. “What...does that mean? You gonna let me go?”

  “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, no. I’m going to throw you in a pit with the other troublemakers.”