The crew encounters a group of sirens, and the first mate finds out first hand what it's like to be seduced.
***
It was a punch to the gut. It was a bone lodged in my windpipe that made me nauseous, but only after it was all over.
Here I was standing on the starboard side, near the bow, shouting directions to Scroop who in turn relayed the information to the helmsman, as the ship carefully dodged the volcanic asteroids that littered this part of the Avion Galaxy. Cutting carefully through a thick amethyst fog, our mission was to harvest crystals near the inner ring of the rock belt surrounding a barren planet. The raw ore was used to make high fashion jewelry; why plunder when you could go straight to the source? At least that was the way Silver had sold it to the crew.
“Watch those sails, ya cack hands, or you’ll be hauling those lines in with yer teeth!”
Speak of the devil. His voice boomed all the way across the deck. I stole a glance aloft; the asteroids were so dense in this area they floated as close as halfway down the main mast and the crew scurried like spiders to protect the vessel from any that strayed too close.
As I turned back to my post, there came a low humming from somewhere in the asteroid field, making the hair on my neck stand up. I glared deeper into the galactic mist, the slow spinning asteroids created eerie shapes in the distance, occasionally clacking together, but they had been doing that for two days now. There was something else. A flicker of movement along the bottom edge of an asteroid ten meters away caught my eye. Then another. Something alive.
“Captain!” I shouted, never taking my eyes off the rock formation as it drew nearer.
“Aye?” Captain Silver responded from the helm.
“There’s —”
An angelic sound reverberated off the rocks and the words died in my throat. As I opened my mouth to speak again, the croon came once more, a refined call, low and smooth. It made a familiar warmth bloom in my chest.
I leaned over the side, fingers gripping the railing as I searched with eager eyes for a glimpse of what could make such a beautiful tune. The more I listened the more the call became unmistakably, entirely new; it was a song. Baritone. Solemn. The kind of thing that made you drown yourself in rum.
A wave of vertigo hit me for the first time since I was a young boy on his first vessel. I blinked heavily, attempting to get my bearings, and when I opened them a figure sat before me, clouded in crystalline dust as it sang.
For me.
The warmth in my chest expanded until my limbs were on fire. A smile crept onto my face when the person came into clear view, and the world seemed infinitely small.
“Ahoy, boy-o.” Captain Silver beamed at me, that gold tooth shining like a solar flare as he drifted towards the ship.
My eyebrows knit together, my voice soft, “Captain.”
“Aye, lad. What’re you doing up there all by your lonesome?” His huge face contorted into one of greater concern than ever before.
“Looking out for the ship. For the crew,” I sigh, leaning closer, yearning to close the distance. “For you.”
The ship seemed to have gained speed, banking sharply to port, away from Silver.
“Captain!” Shouting, I hurried along the length of the vessel, my heart racing, keeping pace with him as my voice cracked. “Captain, don't leave!”
The Ursid lept from cosmic rock to cosmic rock, determined not to lose me.
“Where are ya off to in such a hurry?” He never lost his footing, even as he sped up, even as the desperation in his voice grew clear. “I need my best mate!”
My head felt stuffed full of cotton, “Where’s the crew?”
“Blast the crew” Silver chuckled, moving closer and closer, “Blast the treasure.” His arm muscles rippled as he reached out, his paw big enough to engulf my entire hand, “You’re all this old sea dog needs.”
I looked down and suddenly my feet were on the scarred rail. My toes hanging over the edge of oblivion, the black void of space a back drop to the expansive asteroid field. Yet, before me was everything I had ever wanted. The umber colored hair that peeked out from under his bandana flitted about in the breeze. His cybernetics whirred and clicked, my eyes travelling up his left side; his metal leg, the intricate framework of his arm, and settled on the yellow glow of his mechanized eye.
I had been transfixed by that stare innumerable times. Caught like a fly under its burning red scrutiny. Soaring like a seabird on its golden pride. Never like this. Never so tender. I was a man of fortune first, a loyal crew member second, but everyone knew there was none so loyal as I to Captain Long John Silver. They’d never dare say it to my face, for I would cut them stem to stern, but the lingering stares whenever I was in his vicinity were a dark smudge on an already tattered portrait. We could get away. Just the two of us. Forever.
A massive fur covered hand grabbed me by the face, turning my head away from Silver and blinding me at the same time. A pistol shot rang out, followed by cannon fire.
“Silver!” The name tore from my throat raw and painful as I clawed at whoever held me back, pulling my cutlass from its sheath before an alloy hand clamped down on my wrist.
“Turnbuckle get us out a here you maggot-brained-two-toned-squid! All hands man the long guns til we’re outta range! An’ calm down would ya?”
I was reaching for my dagger with my free hand when I was lifted completely off the ground, arms pinned to my sides, and wrestled into the hold. I heard the trap door slam shut behind us as I was dropped rather ungraciously to the floor.
“You killed him! You’re a dirty mutineer and you’re lucky if I don’t cut your fucking throat!” I growled, climbing to my feet, whirling to face my captor.
Captain Silver stood in front of me, broad and tall as ever. He looked tired, his breathing a little heavy and that eye of his its telling red tone, but healthy as the day he was born.
“Those siren songs make ya simple? Face off the oldes’ gotdamn monster in the galaxy and my first mate nearly goes overboard. Blast me for a fool! Were ya even thinkin’?”
I blinked rapidly. He was covered in a mist of blue blood, a clean outline where my body had shielded his off white shirt and the left lapel of his trench coat. Looking down at myself I saw the same blue blood staining my skin, appearing black in the red light.
When I didn’t have some witty retort, yellow light bathed the room. I didn’t dare look up, I didn’t need his pity. Instead I turned my hands over and over again. The reality of what had happened dawned on me.
We stood in a cutting silence long enough for the thudding of the crew’s feet on the main deck to slow their urgent speed, we must have gotten to safety, and long enough still to deduce what the inaudible, hushed conversations were about.
“Sirens tempt ya —”
"Sirens tempt you with what you want most," I cut him off, "usually who you want most.”
“Ya c’aint control a crew’s gossip.” I exaggerated his accent as I paraphrased what I knew he was going to say.
“Aye.”
“An’ a gossipin’ crew ‘s hard to control.”
“Aye.”
“An’ what’s more to gossip about that is outta control than that crew’s first mate fantasizin’ about that crew’s cap'n’ without a single soul knowin’ ‘sides maybe – they says – the cap’n hisself.”
A bassy sigh, “Aye.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like crying. Humiliation. Violation. My most coveted secret had been pulled out of me against my will and put on display in a grotesque show for thirty odd men. Pirates were not so against homosexuals as the English were, but the chain of command amongst wolves was a delicate thing, favoritism could not be had, imagined or not.
“What did y’all see? Exactly?” I stole a quick read of his face; embarrassment and... guilt?
Silver sighed and sat down on the steps, effectively blocking the exit with his hulking frame, “They seized upon us quick. Suppose that’s why all you gots out was my name, you were the first one to notice ‘em, first one to sense trouble. Soon enough the crew was crawling down the rafters to get a better look. Lucky this old hunk of hardware leaves a ringing in my head if I ain’t tinkered with it in a few moons,” he tapped the gears that had replaced the right side of his head and forced a dry laugh.
My lips pressed into a straight line.
“As I bark orders I realize none of the crew’s movin’. Not a one. And my first mate sure as hell woulda made those sea calves run to their mommas for disobeying an order. I look down from the helm to see all eyes on ya, and you're runnin’ along the railin’ shoutin’ at one of them creatures, and by t’under it looks like what ol’ Long John sees in the mirror.” He meets my eyes, scratching the back of his neck before looking away, “I tried to make it to ya before it got worse, orderin’ them to man the cannons before they lost their head’s too, seein' as the resta dem monsters were clamberin' the sides, but I reckon those boys saw enough when you were standing on that rail, hand in hand, speakin’ to me — it,” Silver hastily corrected himself, “in that sweet talkin’ voice we’ve all heard you use on a wench or two at port.”
I was shaking now. My nervous system was on overdrive.
If they had all seen that, there was no way I could remain on this vessel. They’d leave me with the next civilization we came to and then what would I do? I’d sailed under Flint for ten years. Under Silver for five. Fifteen years was a long time to know a man.
Who was I without Silver?
The fact I was even asking myself that question was enough to send me over the edge. I stood back up with such speed it startled Silver to his feet. I planned to march past him with so much gusto that he would step aside. I could outrun this feeling.
I could.
“Easy there, where ya off to in such a hurry?” His paw stopped me in my tracks, open palm colliding with my chest.
“Don’t.” I grabbed his wrist, my fingers barely making it halfway around.
“You saw the whole thing, that should be explanation enough. Don’t play the fucking good guy just cause you pity me. I’m not your pet.” I spat.
"Not gonna keel haul ya for a fantasy, boy-o, but ya got some explainin’ to do.” He ripped his arm out of my grasp.
He'd been down playing his anger this whole time.
That scarlet glow fell over my face, and this time I glared straight into it. I thought I could feel the warmth of the laser scanning over each of my features. To my surprise, his face softened into an unreadable look.
“By the stars,” Silver whispered, “you’ve never been a pet.”
Suddenly that anger was never anger at all. It was pain that I had inflicted when I mistook sympathy for pity, when I had turned the person who cared about me the most, the man who’d fought beside me time and time again, into someone cruel and ugly in the recess of my mind.
I could hate myself for it. I could add it to the list of reasons I don’t deserve to be loved so freely, but that’s what got me into this mess.
So instead I embrace him. I rest my head on his belly as he towers over me, stiff and stunned, as I begin to sob. My hot tears pool into his shirt, mingling with the coagulating siren blood and soaking through immediately.
“You don’t have to hug me back.” I choke out between sobs.
His arms wrap around me, “Shh. Shh. Shh. None a that now, don’t be silly.”
I cry harder as I sink into his body. I almost apologize. I almost pull away, but I’m stronger than that. Instead, I press myself closer, and he pets my hair, his biological arm crushing me to him. The smell of leather and gunsmoke and sweat soothes me even more. After a moment I sniffle and clear my throat.
“Why did you turn my head away?” I spoke into his shirt.
“Hm?”
“When you shot the siren, you covered my eyes, why?”
I could feel him inhale and hold, the exhale fueling his words.
“I wasn’t about to let ya see the matter get blown outta my skull, real or no. As long as you’re breathin’, I’m with ya. To the very end. Don’t ya think otherwise.”
I smiled then. A real smile. And buried my face deeper. There was no kiss. No big display of passion. We stood, comforted in each other's embrace. Things went a little easier after that. Hard, sure, men of fortune never have it easy, and the crew had many concerns about the siren event, but when those concerns were met with a long walk off a short pier they shut up quickly. Those bastards are blind anyhow. Soft eyes and lingering smiles mean little to the likes of them.
Summary: Silver's first mate comes to visit him. Things get a little volatile and a little sappy as he goes through old memories.
MAJOR ANGST
***
Kain couldn’t believe he was here – no, that was a lie – he had known this was how it would end, one day. It wasn’t a guess of whether or not he would be cut down, it had always been a guess of when.
The brunet took a long draw from his pipe. Tobacco smoke rose into the air, billowing out of his mouth in a great cloud. With a huff he dispersed it, watching as it cascaded over the stone in front of him. It caressed the smooth surface, curled over the edges, ever thinning, and disappeared into the humid air. It was cool out, the tropical ferns danced around the outskirts of his vision, nighttime on a backwater planet. Lorell, Silver had called it. Kain couldn't be sure if that was the official name. It didn’t matter.
Lorell had often been spoken of fondly by the rapscallion when they were alone late in the galley tending to their duties. When there was no noise on the ship besides the creak of wood or the purr of the engines, when the kitchen was full of steam and the apricot glow of the stove, warming both the pirates in more ways than one. It was safe here, safe to talk about dreams, to talk about loss, to stare listless at the pot you were scrubbing and murmur about memories that might as well be fairytales. Those moments were long gone now. They faded along with the smoke as Kain wiped his eyes hastily with the sleeve of the oversized coat – his oversized coat. The thought made him tear up some more.
The human wept softly until he was overcome by darkness, and with a sniffle, relit the lantern he’d put down to his left. The fire breathed deeply, happy to have been brought back to life, and it did so boisterously, making the deeply carved characters in front of him ripple like the tide.
Kain was sitting on Silver’s hammock, one knee drawn to his chest with a book propped against it, while leaning against the Ursid, who’s massive size made the bed dip in a battle of physics Kain couldn’t possibly resist. He was tracing a finger along one line, reading left to right, bottom to top. This memory had no sound, but he could feel the words in his bones like telepathy, and he could feel Silver’s belly shake with laughter as he butchered the pronunciation.
Kain’s face burned, and he slammed the book shut, having had enough of the embarrassment, pointing out that he wouldn’t be learning a language for anyone else, let alone one that wasn't a common tongue. Silver didn’t try to pacify him in any way. He didn't patronize the younger man or find amusement in his crossness. Instead, he gave a hard look, gently reopening the tome in Kain’s lap, to the last page.
At the end of the glossary, below a word that translated roughly to “Zurulian”, there was a note, jittery as if written quickly by candle light. It was old, the ink was faded, and it lacked a date or the name of its scribe, yet the scrawling handwriting was familiar. Silver asked Kain to read, swearing on his mother’s life he wouldn’t poke fun no matter how bad he messed up. Kain had humored him, going over the sentences one by one haltingly like a small child:
At least we're under the same stars
Not in the land of the lost kind of way,
Or the dead and the buried.
More like the lover I've yet to meet.
I don't know him and he don't know me.
Not yet, but one day.
He’s not in my dreams or my thoughts.
Not yet, but one day.
I won’t be afraid of my proclivities.
Not yet, but one day.
I won’t be afraid someone will find this note.
Not yet, but one day.
At least we're under the same stars.
When Kain lifted his wide grey eyes to try and read the cyborg’s face, he was met only with those gears whirring and clicking on the side of his great head as the older man stared at the wall in front of him, his mind somewhere else entirely. Kain wasn’t going to address it, afraid to push, afraid if he did he was admitting to something worthy of rejection. He was only allowed to wrestle with that ill-content for half a second, when a metal hand curled around the back of his head, rubber finger pads digging gently into his scalp, bringing him toward the Ursid, who kissed him on the forehead. Heavy, and wanting, it seemed the world burst with possibilities in that moment. The cyborg lingered in Kain’s space as he pulled back slightly, lips ghosting over his skin, asking permission for something he had never put into words. Kain had tilted his head up then, crashing his lips into Silver’s with the ferocity of a man starved.
More tobacco smoke billowed from Kain’s nose, causing the taste of his comrade to fade into ash in his mind. A light rain seemed to be coming in, and it made Kain chuckle as he rose to his feet, stretching before bending down to unzip his duffle bag.
“This is what you’d call irony,” He said, taking out a spoon and a shallow thermos, “And I’m pretty sure you’d do it just so I would tell you for the millionth time how everywhere I go, I seem to bring the rain with me. That always seemed to put a smile on your face, in the honest belief kind of way that I still can’t seem to find anywhere else.”
Kain bit the inside of his cheek regretfully. Popping the lid of the container, he set it down on the dark stone, the stew inside rocking slightly.
“Old family recipe. It’s still warm. Didn’t want all the fat to coagulate on top, I know how you hate that shit.” He forced a chuckle, getting his flask out of his jacket pocket in the following silence.
He took a long swig before pulling the trenchcoat tighter around him. The musky scent of Silver seemed to live in the very threads themselves, because no matter how many times it was washed it never seemed to fade. Not that he washed it often. Kain was too afraid that one day it wouldn’t come back.
“They told me that when those Federation rats had given chase, it was three days before they caught up. Descending upon the ship through the tail of a comet. What a sight that must have been. They said while those snakes blew the ship to hell you were barking orders at the crew like there wasn’t a hole the size of a longboat in the hull,” Kain smiled bitterly and drank some more, “do you know how hard it was to find someone to tell me the whole story? You bastard, you really scared the crew half to death, they're making up ghost stories about you in every port from here to Montressor!”
Steam drifted into the jungle air. Some kind of reptile croaked in the distance. Kain looked over the words etched on the gravestone with stormy eyes. He’d carved them himself, it had taken three days.
Silver’s recipe for Bonza Beast stew, written in Ursidae.
The human swallowed thickly, “They said you’d won. Lost half the crew, the ship needed to be scrapped, but you had enough men to bring her home, and the haul from the Federation ship was enough to cover what they cost you, now that all her men were dead. The boys had checked that boat, bow to stern. Taken no prisoners. You went to your room, the men celebrating on the main deck hadn’t even had the chance to pick up the bodies. How were you supposed to know he was in your quarters?”
Kain grit his teeth.
“How were you supposed to know?” He asks, drawing his cutlass and swinging wildly at the surrounding ferns, “What kind of cowardly chicken-hearted swab hides in the cook’s quarters til the fighting is done!? Waiting to cut a man down. Waiting like a bilge rat in the dark.”
The blade whistled through the air. Turquoise leaves and stems were lopped off in great swathes, the sandy ground starting to be covered in a blanket of dead foliage.
“They said when they found you you’d already strangled him to death – good on you – a shark tooth dagger sticking out of your chest – we both know how that ends – and you were slumped against the wall, clutching that damn book of yours like somehow it'd bring you back from Davy Jones. If I had been there… you asked to… If I had been there I could have…”
CHOP. CHOP. CHOP.
Kain screamed as he threw the sword into the darkness. It bounced off something with a metallic zing just as he hit his knees, a sickening sound escaping from his throat. There was nothing left alive within ten feet of the gravestone.
“They said you asked to be brought onto the deck, said you heard the patter of rainfall and nothing could stop you. Blood dripping down your shirt. The ice from the comet trail had melted, turned to water beating down on the ship, chilling the crew to their bones, yet you just sat on the stairs leading to the helm, looking up into the ethereum. They said you smiled –” he choked out a sob, grabbing fistfuls of sand, “smiled as you sat there with a fucking hole in your chest. Face upturned. Smiled at the rain washing over you. Like nothing they'd ever fucking seen before. Bleeding out. Clutching that book. Letting blood and rain mingle on the pages with that stupid smile on your face.”
Tears cascaded down Kain’s cheeks now, hot and unrelenting, they gathered in his mustache until he couldn’t tell if the warmth on his upper lip was salt water or snot. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was both. He screamed again, a wordless, primal screech that tore through the night, sending cat sized bugs flying out of the trees and into the air. It sent a shiver down the spine of anything that had been watching him from the shadows, deciding to find their next meal somewhere else. He screamed as his hands tore at the ground, screamed as he ripped up rocks and dirt, screamed into the earth where he'd been forced to bury his lover, where he'd been forced to bury his best friend.
He screamed until his voice was hoarse, until saliva dripped out of his mouth in large gobs and his lips hurt from having been curled back in a snarl for so long. Kain crawled on his knees to rest his head against the cold black stone, holding himself up with one hand on the corner, as if, for a moment, he was propping himself up on the cyborg’s large shoulder once more. He wept feebly. He was wet from the rain and cold, and most of all he was tired. So tired.
The human lazily wiped his face with his handkerchief. It did very little to lift his spirits. With a sigh, he groped for his bag and his lantern without lifting his head from the rock. With them readily at hand, Kain lifted himself on shaky limbs. Looking at the gravesite, you couldn't be sure how old it was anymore. It was in such a state of disarray that it might have seen the rise and fall of whole civilizations, had it not been for the pristine metal bowl shining in the lamp light resting atop the grave marker.
“I don't know what I could have done,” Kain admitted to the growing darkness, “I could have at least said goodbye.”
His eyes stayed fixed on the slate tombstone, it would be easy to miss in the shadows of the forest floor. The Ursid colonies had mostly taken up residence on the neighboring trade moons anyways. Silver would be safe here. No one really cared about Lorell.
The sound of the gentle rain gathered solidly this time, rippling across the leaves, hugging the grave and Kain all at once. He grabbed the spoon resting in the bowl and brought a hearty bite to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat before setting the utensil back in the bowl and adjusting the container minutely. The earthen flavor filled his senses as he swallowed.
He was back in the galley. He was shoveling down his stew like his life depended on it. He was in his bunk. He could smell it far away simmering in its wide pot. He was aloft. He was being called down to help in the kitchen. He was in Silver’s room. Always in Silver’s room. He was eating with a smile on his face, jostling elbows with the sea-cook and trading jokes. He was anywhere but here.
“One last meal between mates,” Kain murmured, “You stay, alright? Keep that recipe safe for us. Our stars are a little different now, Barbecue.”
He smiled softly, gathering all the courage he could to force himself back into the jungle.
Soon enough, the sound of his boots grow faint as he makes his way deep into the brush. The rain slows, water gathering in pools on the downed tropical leaves, beading on the blade of the cutlass left behind, and staining the curving scripture of a dead language, until it too, fades into the distance.
