"I'm in the business of misery, let's take it from the top."

-Misery Business, by Paramore

The light outside of me eyelids is blinding, so I keeps them shut tight and just listen to the sounds of the ship.

As I get used to the light, I slowly open me eyes and look around.

I'm slumped against a corner of me cabin. Staring at a purple-skinned girl sleeping in my bed.

This would explain why my back hurts.

I sit up with a groan and a yawn that travels from my toes, though my shoulders and into my jaw. The light isn't so bad.

Eversly stirs and opens those yellow eyes of hers. She blinks once, then rolls over, keeping her back to me. I hear her sigh deeply before she drifts off t' sleep again.

Swaying slightly as I stand up, I clutch me head. I'm seeing spots and the world goes fuzzy-black before clearing up again. I head over to the lass and rip away the covers.

"Up and at 'em, lazy gears," I says. "Time to greet the day."

She groans. "Five more minutes."

"Nope. We're moving you to the crew's quarters today. Kiss that bed good-bye."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I'm a cold, heartless, terrible pirate who doesn't believe in givin' females special treatment."

"What about the injured?" she says, beginning to sit up.

"Injured my eye. You're fine, especially with all that quick-healing medicine we gave yah. Now get up or I'll drag you outta that bed and tie you buck-naked to the main mast."

I'd never seen a woman move so quickly. She was out of bed and zippin' out the door before I could say boo.

I reach out and grab her hand before she can slip into the hall. "Where you going?"

"Away," she says quickly. "Far away."

"Nope. You're coming with me. We have Tooly–– our cabin boy–– to swab them decks, but you can help York in the kitchen."

She frowns. "It's because I'm a female, isn't it?"

"Nope. Because you're injured," I says, putting quotes around "injured."

Rolling her eyes, she huffs a quick, "Whatever," before limping out of the room and down the hall.

Rummaging through my trunk for a change of shirt, I file away this morning's latest threat for use later. Wonder how long it'll work.

The shirt I drag outta the depths of me chest smells half as bad as the one I'm wearing, so I yank off the one on, toss it to the floor and pull the other one over me head. Maybe Eversly will know how to do the laundry.

Eversly.

Since she came aboard, been seeming like our way of life–– maybe just my way of life–– been changed. She needs to learn to walk. She needs to be comforted. She needs this. She needs that.

I need me some pain block. My back is killing me.

After rummaging through my desk drawers, I pull out a little bottle of pills and pop two back dry. Be nice to have some rum with it, but we needs a sober captain today.

I stride out me door and down the hallway, up to the deck and down into the kitchen, where Eversly is perched on a counter, chomping down on a Montressor purp while she watches Yark skin some flesh-colored tubers.

She looks over to me, her purp frozen halfway from her mouth. Her eyebrows furrow for a fraction of a second before she returns her attention to Yark, whose six available arms work with the speed of eight men.

Yark pauses and looks up at me, her three ice-blue eyes studying me before she murmurs in her strange accent.

"Captine, you be nee-ding somethine, Sir?"

"No, Yark. Just checking up on your new charge. Be sure you put her to work. Her arm be healed up enough to scrub pots and pans and whatnot."

She pulses gently, which I take for a nod, before she returns to her work.

I glance back at Eversly. Her tapered ears shift back, like an angry horse, and she bares her fangs in a snarl. Those eyes–– God help me, those unnatural yellow eyes with their feral slits for pupils that constrict as she looks at me.

Turning away slowly, I try to casually return to the decks before letting the shivers run through me spine.

"Mr. Scroop!" I call out as I mount the stairs to the navigation deck. "How long––"

"About two dayss," he replies sharply, without looking up from a stack of papers. "Lockgrim tellsss me our rope keepsss disssappearing. Do you have any ssuspicionsss?"

"Who would want to steal rope?" I ask. "It don't go for much in the market."

"But you have enough and it'll pay your bond," he says, glancing up at me.

"You think Tooly is stealing the rope?" I demand. I think on the peg-legged lad who glows like a lantern. His previous crew gambled him away in a One-and-Thirty match, leaving him to us. "He seems happy here. Does his work, like the good lad he is and gets to be one o' the crew."

Scroop raises an eyebrow and grunts non-commitally. He returns to his work with a mutter of, "Sssoft."

I flick the insult away and stride back to me cabin. A captain rarely be needed outside a mission or battle. Scroop mostly take care o' things for me.

For the next couple hours, I loiter in me cabin, reading and sorting through me laundry. The whole room smell sickly sweet, like pain medicine, blood and sickness, so I pops open the windows to let in the fresh air from space's artificial atmosphere.

It don't take much longer after that for me stomach to start rumbling with hunger. I wonder what Eversly be doing right this moment.

Rather than visit the galley, I goes to the supplies room to grab me some crackers and a jerky made from some kind of meat.

In the crates behind me, I hear some shuffling and then a muffled curse. I crane me head around and look to see that girl staring back at me, a book in her lap and a purp in her mouth.

"Don't you know we don't have an unlimited supply of purps?" I ask, taking a stand directly in front of her. "How many is that for you today?"

She frowns. "My second. It's better than some of the other stuff we have to eat."

"You don't like Yark's cooking?"

"She doesn't cook for lunch."

I nod. "Fair point."

She stands up, closes the book and wipes her mouth, the last of her purp getting wiped across her sleeve. "If you'll excuse me, I have to return to work."

Slipping past me, she tries to hurry away, but I grab onto her wrist, then take the book.

"Where'd you get something like this?" I ask. "You been steal––"

"I was going to return it."

"O-ho! So it don't belong to you. We'll make a pirate of you yet."

The purple of her cheeks becomes darker and she rips her hand from me. With one cold glance of those eyes, she turns away and storms up the steps to get back to the kitchen.

I hold the book up to me face and read the cover.

Sailor's Book of Tales.

So she likes stories, does she? Interesting. It's a wonder she ain't more... I don't know. Of a dreamer, I guess. She don't try to escape, or win over Captain and crew or become one of us.

She likes the outskirts, too. Like a pirate what has no crew. She did just lose kin and country, so I guess I don't blame her, but she's closer to being one of us than she realizes.

We'll make a scalawag of her yet.

The rest of the afternoon be spent playing cards and doing what chores needs doing and getting ready for scavenging the next town. The rope still be nowhere to be found, much to Lockgrim's croaking dismay.

I look around the room to find a place to sit and see Eversly slumped in the corner, picking away at a lump of bread. And an empty spot right next to her.

Taking a seat in the empty space on the bench, I set my food down and nudge her with me elbow. "You awake there, lass?"

She nods her head.

"Tiring day?"

She shrugs.

"You know we're going back to your home planet, right?"

She looks up at me, cocking her head to the side. "What?"

"Those soldiers be on the war-path. So, we thinks we'll clean up after them. It's a nice job. Not many folks what knows about it."

"So you're going to pick the carcass clean?" she murmurs, her gaze turning towards the table.

"What that be, lass? You're not making much sense."

"Pirates are all the same–– like vultures. You just wait for someone else to do the killing before you descend to strip the carcass clean. It's disgusting."

"Better than doing the killing, though," I reply. "And it puts bread on the table. Not too shabby."

"But it's not honest work," she snaps.

"How ain't it?"

"Stealing the possessions of the dead is almost everything but honest."

"But if they be dead," I reason, "they has no need of their things and we does. I sees no problem."

"Grave robbers are the only ones with less respect."

I shrug. "Believe what you want, but it's much better than attacking some merchant ship to steal goods. Nobody gets hurt and property what belongs to no man gets reclaimed. It's beneficial, like the vultures. Nature's clean-up crew, lass. If it ain't us, who else will?"

"I hope you don't expect me to join you," she replies hotly.

"To be honest, I was hoping you would. If you're gonna be a pirate, you've gotta––"

"But what if I don't want to be a pirate?"

I look over at Hadaran, who quickly looks back to his meal.

"It don't matter," I says. "We can find other ways for you to be useful. Swabbing the deck naked seems like a good start."

Her cheeks turn a deep purple and she clenches her fists. Through gritted teeth, she spits out, "I'll go on your stupid scavenging party."

I smile. "Thank yee, lass."

"On one condition," she says. "That we take any survivors with us and drop them off at the nearest inhabited port. They don't have to stay and they won't be stored in the brig."

"You seem to have closed every loop hole in that condition," I reply. "I'll bite. Any one what's still living and breathing can have safe passage on me ship."

"Good." She nods sharply and rips a chunk of the loaf off with her teeth.

"Well," I says, "Now that be settled, why not play some dice? I'm sick of One-and-Thirty."

Hadaran nods. "Sounds like a plan, Sir. Want me to grab the dice or...?"

"Why not?" I shrug. "We'll play here. Eversly will play too. High time we give an introductory course in pirate merriment."

I stands up and walk over to the kitchen, grab a bottle of rum from one of the cupboards and then return to the table. I uncork the drink and take a swig of it, enjoying the warm taste it has as it funnels down me throat.

"First rule of pirate merriment," I says, leaning over to nudge Eversly. "Rum."

"There's not even a verb in that sentence," she says. "How can it be a rule?"

"Don't have to be grammatically correct to make sense," I reply. "Here. Have a sip."

She shakes her head. "Sorry, Captain, but I don't drink."

"Well, why the hell not?" I demand. "Something against alcohol in the religion you follows?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Fiolenes can't hold their liquor."

I raise me eyebrows. "Uh-huh."

"My dad," she said, a small smile brightening her face, "could only take a sip of beer before he was drunk as a peach orchard pig."

"How drunk is that?" I ask.

"Enough to make a grown man buzzed and dizzy."

"Just a sip, huh?" Hadaran asked. "But you're half human. Couldn't you hold more––?"

"Low alcohol tolerance is apparently a dominant trait," Eversly replied. "I've tried a sip of... I think it was beer. Anyways, it was worse for me than my father. Blacked out in a matter of minutes. Woke up the next morning with a hangover to split your skull."

"Well." I bring the rum bottle up to my lips and take a quick drink. "More for me, then."

Eversly nodded. "Now that that's settled, what's the next rule of pirate merriment?"

"Girls," Hadaran said without missing a beat. "But since we've got none here..." He winked at Eversly and her lips quirked into a small smile.

"All right. Then, what's the third rule?"

"Games–– Preferably the ones involving cards, dice and plenty of coin," I reply.

"Fourth rule?" she asks.

"Pirates don't much care for rules," I says. "Three's 'bout as much as we can handle at one time."

Eversly smiles again, those white fangs flashing. She turns to Hadaran as he divvies out the dice into the cups and her third eyelid flicks over her yellow irises, making them more muted than the brilliant cheese-yellow color they normally be.

"The game's simple enough," he says. "We each has six dice. We flip the cups over, and then bet on how many of a certain dice face is on the table. Bidding goes in ascending order. Can't do two threes after someone's done three fours and the like. Make sense?"

She pauses, then nods hesitantly. "I think I've got it."

"Well, excellent," I says. "Let the games begin."

Eversly peered over the edge of the ship as we docked in the nearly decimated village, filled with poor folks whats been dead for who knows how long. Survivors be sounding like a distant dream of an idealistic, purple-skinned lady.

"I don't think I ever came to this village. Where are we?"

"About five hundred kilometers from your village," I replies. "Seemed far enough away."

She pauses. "What direction are the soldiers moving?"

"How should we know?" Hadaran says, unfolding a canvas sack. "We just, in your words, pick the carcass clean."

Eversly's cheeks grow darker. I can only assume it to be her equivalent to blushing. She bites her lower lip, as though holding back something she'd like to say. She stays silent, though, until Hadaran hands her another sack and says, "You'll be sticking with me. Right?"

He glances over at me and I incline my head. "Sounds good. She's not to leave your side. Show her the ropes. Can't have a useless body on board."

Eversly shrugged. "Let's get this over with."

The rest of the crew—excepting Tooly, Lockgrim and Yark—file off me ship. The Prisma's golden wood seems to glow and flash in the sunlight. Her solar sails flutter in the breeze like a lady's skirt in a dance. Me heart swells with pride.

"Let's head out, men. We knows what we're lookin' for. Hop to it."

They disperse, automatically falling into their default groups, which tend to just be the shifts they works. Dog shifters with dog shifters. Day shifters with day shifters. Int'resting to see hows they all split off.

Hadaran motions to Eversly to follow him and she dashes over. She looks like his shadow as they head down the ash-coated cobblestone.

Scroop and Maurice brandish their sacks and glance at me before they head into the village. I follow right behind them.

As the job progresses, I can't help but feelings more and more useless. My mind be wandering off and I can't stick to me job. Me mind keeps wondering how Eversly be fairing. How Hadaran is doing at being a teacher.

Then, our groups bump together. We files out the door of an house and nearly run into Hadaran and Eversly.

Eversly's sack is nearly half-way full, with Hadaran's nearly three-quarters. He's pulling coin from the pockets of the fallen, who've begun to rot and smell to kingdom come.

She holds her nose as she bends over to examine something she might collect. Tears fill her eyes and I can't tell if that be due to the smell or the loss of life.

"We should give them all a proper burial," she murmurs. "Instead of leaving the buzzards to pick their flesh clean."

"We don't have time," Hadaran snaps. "We've talked about this."

She purses her lips, but don't pursue the topic further.

A door into the next house is ajar and I motion for Hadaran and Eversly to follow me group in.

I regret that decision instantly.

The streets be different. Bodies of full-grown men be one thing, and that be what slump across the streets, along with the bodies of the soldiers.

Bodies of toddlers, children and women be a whole other matter.

A sack drops to the ground with a loud thud and I look back. Eversly has dropped her collections in favor of holding her hands across her mouth in shock.

The body of a woman holds onto the body of her toddler as they lay across the floor. The toddler has a shot clean through the chest.

The mother, a shot through the head.

Eversly can't hold back her tears and she begins to sob. Hadaran rolls his eyes and puts his sack down. He puts one arm around her.

I feel a prickle of envy. That should be my job. Or, it normally would be.

Part of me feels relief that I don't have to deal with more emotional women. Until she starts speaking.

"How can you be so unfeeling? How can you be so soulless to be able to walk past these bodies and feel nothing?!" she demands through her tears. "Must be nice to be emotionless as well as soulless!"

"Now look here, lass," I says, turning around and pointing a finger at her. "It be a shame these folks died, but getting emotional about it won't make them magically come back to life. You can shed as many tears as you want, but when it comes down to it, dead is dead."

Her face contorts into a scowl, her eyes still shimmering with tears.

"You disgust me."

"Then get out!" I says. "Go back to the ship and wait there with Yark until we're done."

"Fine!" she screams. "I didn't want to be here in the first place!"

"And take your sack with yeh! None of us wants to carry your collection. That's your job."

"Aye-aye, Captain," she says with a sneer, before grabbing up her back and storming out the front door.

Scroop looks at me, his red, fanged face smiling. "Well done, Captain."

I clench me jaw.

We finish the job before sundown, luckily, and my stomach rumbles with anticipation of some of Yark's cooking. And, I guess, Eversly's. But it makes me mad just to think about that ungrateful waif.

We drop our sacks with all the other's, to be sorted and gone over in the light of the morning, and head down into the Mess to grab some rum and whatever Yark cooked up.

No purple-skinned lass.

"Probably just off pouting," Hadaran says to me with a shrug after I mention it to him. "She's been here all day, so she probably ate before we came back."

I nod. "All the same, I'm gonna go make sure she's on board and hasn't tried anything stupid."

"Aye, Captain."

Leaving me stew and rum, I head up, then out onto the deck and back down. I pass me cabin, then get to the crew's quarters.

No purple-skinned lass.

I poke me head into me cabin.

No Eversly.

I head back to the Mess and says to the crew, "Eversly's missing. We need to look for her."

We search every nook and cranny in me ship.

No blasted, purple-skinned lass.

Damn it.

Author's Note: I'd like to thank Persevera for the title of this chapter- Call A Spade A Spade- which was mentioned in her review of Chapt. 2 of this work. Her (and everyone at the Review's Lounge, Too's) reviews have really helped this work become even better.

I know I haven't updated in, almost literally, forever. For many months. Sorry about that. :/ Life happens and schoolwork beckoned. Now that summer vacay is here, you can expect more frequent (if not weekly) updates. :)

Your comments are always appreciated, even if it's "OMG luv dis ! plz update!" Any form of love (or luv ^_-) is still encouragement.

+Quasar