SKIES OF ARCADIA CHRONICLES
Episode One: Restless Hunter I
Disclamer: To my everlasting dismay, I do not own Skies of Arcadia, nor any of its affiliated characters and locales. Bugger.
~*~*~*~
Somewhere in Southern Nasr
"Domingo-remind me again," yelled Lawrence over his shoulder, trying to be heard over the roar of the wind. "Just how we got into this situation?!?"
Domingo pursed his lips and gave no answer. He made a strong effort to keep his widened eyes squarely focussed on the Black Pirate ship pursuing them, and not on the desert speeding past them below. Somehow, that lessened the stomach-churning effect of Lawrence's desperate manoeuvring of the lifeboat in and out of range of their pursuer's cannons, whilst staying relatively close to the ground.
Behind them, two more cannons boomed their deadly greetings, followed an instant thereafter by two sub-cannon shells impacting dully onto the sands of the desert below them. Domingo's eagle eyes, while not quite as renowned as those of the Ixa'takan Tikatika, were sufficient to note that the deadly projectiles had missed them by scant centimetres.
Swallowing to moisten his suddenly-dry mouth, the great explorer Domingo forced his eyes back to the lifeboat and its occupants and bleakly assessed their chances of survival.
Lawrence was bent over the wheel, staring fixedly ahead at the horizon whilst steering the lifeboat back and forth in a motion which, Domingo prayed, would keep their pursuers from scoring a direct hit on them. Domingo himself was crouched in the centre of the craft acting nominally as navigator, although the silent helmsman had yet to seek his guidance. In the back, near the engines and small storage area cowered Marco. The usually sharp-tongued Valuan had had little to say since the chase began, opting instead to cover his ears with his hands and mouth desperate prayers to the gods in the hope that they would intercede on their behalf.
~So~, Domingo thought, glumly. ~One Delphinus lifeboat versus a fully armed Black Pirate ship crewed by bloodthirsty and single minded sons of bitches with a serious grudge against anyone even remotely associated with Vyse the friggin' legend.~
~We are SO screwed~
He experienced a moment of disorientation as Lawrence suddenly swerved the craft sharply to the left, around a particularly large sand-dune. He tumbled to the deck and glared up at the pilot, but any word of reproach died on his lips as two more cannonballs slammed into the sand of the dune. Lawrence's manoeuvre had placed it squarely between them and the ship, saving them from another direct hit. Domingo privately put off his rebuke. Never antagonise a man whose skill is quite possibly the only barrier between yourself and certain death.
Instead, he rose to his knees and gripped the side the lifeboat, squinting his eyes against the onrushing wind. The ship came once again into view and Domingo cursed as he noticed once again that it did not appear to be straining itself in keeping up with them.
He spat over the side, taking care to do so in the direction of the wind and cursed his ill fortune. How HAD it come to this anyway?
~*~*~*~
Crescent Island, three days previously.
"So.so I'm in North Ocean, right? Been travelling for nearly two weeks in a medium sized sailboat captained by an incompetent, but hey, at least I'm there, right? Following me so far?"
Across the table, the navigator Don nodded once before taking a sip from his pint-glass. He wiped his curved moustache with the back of one hand and indicated with said glass for his companion to continue.
At the opposite side of the table, Domingo the once-renowned treasure hunter took an impressive swig of his own loqua and leaned forward slightly. "Now, I didn't have much to go on-just the ramblings of a more- than-a-bit inebriated sailor in one of the seedier parts of Nasrad. But hey, even drunken jackasses are good for something, I guess."
Don decided to let that one pass, and took a slightly deeper pull of his loqua. Besides, Domingo had had a bit much himself, from the look of it, and he refrained from politely enquiring as to what Domingo had been doing in such an undesirable part of Nasrad anyway. At the other end of the tavern, Polly glared at them both as Domingo had another quaff before continuing.
"Anyway, I following his directions and then, as night fell, I spotted 'em! On a large island to our east, I saw beautiful lights in the sky, ducking and diving like kids at play! Will 'o wisps, they were, and they were a SIGHT. Reminded me why I got into this business in the first place."
Another gulp. The glass was now half-empty, and Domingo had thus far shown no signs of slowing down. "Hell of a job to get the captain's fat ass out of bed and convince him to set sail for the lights, but we somehow got there without his rotting junk-heap falling to pieces in the process."
Another gulp. They had become intermingled with Domingo's punctuation throughout the course of the conversation.
"We put ashore, had a look around, but it was dawn by the time we'd got inland enough to get to them, nimble little buggers that they were. We couldn't see them when it got lighter, but we DID see something else."
Don took another sip from his own stein and leaned forward expectantly. The conversation wouldn't have been nearly so interesting had Domingo been of sounder mind.
"Weeeeeell." Domingo enunciated the monosyllabic word with an exaggerated expression of chagrin. "We saw a plaque. Quite new, hadn't even begun to rust. And it rains a LOT in North Ocean." Another swig. "And do you know, kind sir, exactly what this plaque SAID?"
Don rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, but Domingo's glass was suddenly slammed down onto the table, sending flying a few of the flecks of foam that were all that remained of its contents. Domingo himself shot up and roared: "It said 'WILL 'O WISPS-FIRST DISCOVERED BY VYSE, KING OF ROGUES!" Domingo bellowed, hoarsely. "JANUARY 13th, 1512 A.R.!"
Don leaned back, away from the outburst, although he'd seen it coming. He'd had the foresight to put down his own glass a moment before, for fear that Domingo's furious tirade would cause Don to spill his own loqua. "So.you're upset that Vyse got there first?"
Domingo blinked at him for a frozen second, before sitting back down with a thump and slamming a clenched fist on the table, rattling the two loqua glasses thereon. "Goddamnit, Don! Aren't you listening?!? Vyse had been there-and made off with the treasure that some long-forgotten Black Pirate had buried there for safekeeping!"
Don raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. "Treasure?" he echoed, his interest now piqued.
"Sure! Perfect place for it, eh? So many islands in North Ocean-what better place to hide a stash than the one with the inexplicable light circling over it? It's the perfect marker."
He gesticulated lazily with his right hand, flicked his fingers, then peered closely at them, apparently marvelling that there were, in fact, five of them. Don narrowed his eyes, considered his next words and took the plunge, trying to keep in mind that he was, in fact, arguing with someone considerably more inebriated than himself.
"Dom," he began, cautiously. "Vyse was in a bit of a hurry when he went through there. I don't think he really had time to go nosing about for a few black pirate trinkets, if there even were any. Black Pirates end up drinking most of their share of the loot anyway. Did you consider that maybe there never was any treasure?" As he spoke, Domingo lapsed further and further into silence, an encouraging sign, so Don thought. "Besides, what happened to the spirit of adventure, anyway? 'Because its there' and all that?"
At that last comment, Domingo pushed his chair back, rose to his feet very slowly (and unsteadily), put his hands on his hips and glared down at the navigator. "Spirit of Adventure?" he echoed mockingly. "Try paying the rent with THAT, why doncha?" Don opened his mouth to reply, but Domingo ploughed on regardless. "That whole 'because it's there' crap'll get you in the history books alright, if that's what you're into. But I'm a bloody treasure hunter, Don-o-a treasure hunter!"
Behind Domingo, the door to the pub opened, admitting the establishment's last patron for the evening. Don casually glanced around Domingo's gesticulating form, and his eyes widened in stark terror. Across the room, Polly grinned in anticipation. Domingo pressed down onto the table with his fists, apparently to steady himself. "That means, mate,"-he swayed ever-so- slightly just then-"That I, y'know, hunt treasure!"
The newcomer ambled over to their table, positioning himself behind Domingo and raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Don made a few frantic indications of his arrival to Domingo, who regarded him with an irritated glare. "Stop squirmin', man! Tryin' to talk to you, here! Anyways, treasure huntin's what I do, with all that comes wi' it. S' a lifestyle in an' of itself." He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded halfway between a cough and burp and Don persisted in trying to alert the hapless explorer to the new presence in the pub without making it appear too obvious.
"Which means," Domingo continued after a moment of cross-eyed thought. "Women, drink, gold, widespread admiration, women, recognition, gold." He waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever. You get the idea. And, mate," at this, he leaned forward conspirationally before proclaiming, in quite an audible voice. "I can't exactly continue that bleedin' lifestyle when bloody Vyse the bloody legend keeps making off with MY treasures and MY discoveries-"
And behind him, someone cleared his throat impatiently. Domingo froze, and his expression became inscrutable. Were it not for a slight widening of his eyes, one would not have been able to discern that the phrase "Oh, bloody HELL" had just then begun to loop itself through his mind. It was nicely complimented by Don's own frozen mask of horror.
Domingo took a deep breath, straightened up and spun around, grinning manically. "Ah, Cap'n Vyse! THERE you are!"
~*~*~*~
"-But Captain! We're in the middle of nowhere!"
Leaning casually on the railing of the Delphinus' outer deck, Vyse of the Blue Rogues grinned down at the source of the supplicant whine. A few metres away from the ship, and slightly below Vyse's direct line of vision, Domingo stood unsteadily in one of the Delphinus' jolly boats, frantically waving his arms. At the wheel, considerably more stable on his feet, stood the silent Lawrence whilst near the back of the little, the Valuan street urchin Marco made equally frantic gestures in Vyse's direction.
"Exactly," Vyse cheerfully called down to the hapless explorer. He pointed into the distance, where the late afternoon sun illuminated the dunes of the distant Nasr shore. "No one's really explored this part of the desert. There could be treasures untold out there, Domingo. Could be just the thing to quiet that big mouth o' yours!"
Domingo could do nothing but stare stupidly at him, but Marco piped up in his stead. "'Ere!" he bellowed at his captain. "If 'e's the one who shot 'is mouth off, why'm I in 'ere with 'im?"
"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that, Marco," Vyse chuckled in return. "I'll just say this-Khalifa wasn't too pleased with what you did to her tent, y'know."
"Wasn't my fault it burned down," Marco protested sulkily. "Didn't know it was flammable, like."
"It was silk, Marco," Vyse reminded him. "Of course its bloody flammable."
That seemed to quiet him, and Lawrence took advantage of the lull to raise a questioning hand.
"And you're down there because Marco can't steer and Domingo'll be too busy scanning EACH AND EVERY INCH of the desert for something to make this little impromptu expedition worthwhile, Lawrence," Vyse said smoothly. "So you'll ferry 'em around without complaint, thanks. For what I'm paying you, it's the very least you can do."
He gave a short, unclassifiable little laugh and gave a thumbs-up to Don, watching the exchange from the Bridge one story above them, who nodded in response and began barking orders into the speaking tube which kept him in touch with Brabham in the engine room. Then Vyse turned back to the reluctant band of wayfarers and said, in all seriousness; "We'll be back here in four days, after we finish up in Esperanza. Try not to die of thirst or anything"-this he truly meant in jest; he'd made sure the storage locker in the back of the jolly boat was well stocked-"And Domingo-when we come back, you and me are going to have a little talk about getting piss- assed drunk and then slagging off the captain behind his back. Cheers. And by the way, I DO expect my prized lookout to have found something when we come back."
He strode off back inside and shut the hatch behind him. Lawrence and Marco stared mutely at their ship as it slowly swung away from them and continued on to the south. Then they turned as one toward their snappily dressed companion and glared murderously at him. Domingo returned their glare with a baleful one of his own and spread his arms in frustration.
"What? What?"
~*~*~*~
~Aaaaaah, yes. That's right,~ Domingo mused ruefully, a few more shots from the pursuing black pirate jerking him back to the present. ~We're in this situation because I'm a real asshole when I'm dru-~
And then the shots hit home. Marco yelped in surprise, more than horror, as the impact from the cannon shells striking the rear of the craft caused it to jolt spasmodically up. Domingo acted without thinking, one slender arm snapping around and seizing the boy by the back of his cotton shirt. It was a timely move, and prevented the suddenly violently erratic motion of the jolly boat from simply bucking the boy out like water from a pail.
Pushing the boy against the narrow rail rimming the edge of passenger area until he had it clasped tightly in his own death grip, Domingo turned towards their Helmsman. It was on the tip of his tongue to bark some unnecessary, if frantic, request for evasive manoeuvres. But the words died on his lips as the fumes from the irreparably damaged engine reached his nose.
It was then that he noticed that, despite Lawrence's best efforts, the nose of the lifeboat steadfastly refused to dip upwards. And the desert, it seemed, was rushing upward at an uncomfortable rate...
Episode One: Restless Hunter I
Disclamer: To my everlasting dismay, I do not own Skies of Arcadia, nor any of its affiliated characters and locales. Bugger.
~*~*~*~
Somewhere in Southern Nasr
"Domingo-remind me again," yelled Lawrence over his shoulder, trying to be heard over the roar of the wind. "Just how we got into this situation?!?"
Domingo pursed his lips and gave no answer. He made a strong effort to keep his widened eyes squarely focussed on the Black Pirate ship pursuing them, and not on the desert speeding past them below. Somehow, that lessened the stomach-churning effect of Lawrence's desperate manoeuvring of the lifeboat in and out of range of their pursuer's cannons, whilst staying relatively close to the ground.
Behind them, two more cannons boomed their deadly greetings, followed an instant thereafter by two sub-cannon shells impacting dully onto the sands of the desert below them. Domingo's eagle eyes, while not quite as renowned as those of the Ixa'takan Tikatika, were sufficient to note that the deadly projectiles had missed them by scant centimetres.
Swallowing to moisten his suddenly-dry mouth, the great explorer Domingo forced his eyes back to the lifeboat and its occupants and bleakly assessed their chances of survival.
Lawrence was bent over the wheel, staring fixedly ahead at the horizon whilst steering the lifeboat back and forth in a motion which, Domingo prayed, would keep their pursuers from scoring a direct hit on them. Domingo himself was crouched in the centre of the craft acting nominally as navigator, although the silent helmsman had yet to seek his guidance. In the back, near the engines and small storage area cowered Marco. The usually sharp-tongued Valuan had had little to say since the chase began, opting instead to cover his ears with his hands and mouth desperate prayers to the gods in the hope that they would intercede on their behalf.
~So~, Domingo thought, glumly. ~One Delphinus lifeboat versus a fully armed Black Pirate ship crewed by bloodthirsty and single minded sons of bitches with a serious grudge against anyone even remotely associated with Vyse the friggin' legend.~
~We are SO screwed~
He experienced a moment of disorientation as Lawrence suddenly swerved the craft sharply to the left, around a particularly large sand-dune. He tumbled to the deck and glared up at the pilot, but any word of reproach died on his lips as two more cannonballs slammed into the sand of the dune. Lawrence's manoeuvre had placed it squarely between them and the ship, saving them from another direct hit. Domingo privately put off his rebuke. Never antagonise a man whose skill is quite possibly the only barrier between yourself and certain death.
Instead, he rose to his knees and gripped the side the lifeboat, squinting his eyes against the onrushing wind. The ship came once again into view and Domingo cursed as he noticed once again that it did not appear to be straining itself in keeping up with them.
He spat over the side, taking care to do so in the direction of the wind and cursed his ill fortune. How HAD it come to this anyway?
~*~*~*~
Crescent Island, three days previously.
"So.so I'm in North Ocean, right? Been travelling for nearly two weeks in a medium sized sailboat captained by an incompetent, but hey, at least I'm there, right? Following me so far?"
Across the table, the navigator Don nodded once before taking a sip from his pint-glass. He wiped his curved moustache with the back of one hand and indicated with said glass for his companion to continue.
At the opposite side of the table, Domingo the once-renowned treasure hunter took an impressive swig of his own loqua and leaned forward slightly. "Now, I didn't have much to go on-just the ramblings of a more- than-a-bit inebriated sailor in one of the seedier parts of Nasrad. But hey, even drunken jackasses are good for something, I guess."
Don decided to let that one pass, and took a slightly deeper pull of his loqua. Besides, Domingo had had a bit much himself, from the look of it, and he refrained from politely enquiring as to what Domingo had been doing in such an undesirable part of Nasrad anyway. At the other end of the tavern, Polly glared at them both as Domingo had another quaff before continuing.
"Anyway, I following his directions and then, as night fell, I spotted 'em! On a large island to our east, I saw beautiful lights in the sky, ducking and diving like kids at play! Will 'o wisps, they were, and they were a SIGHT. Reminded me why I got into this business in the first place."
Another gulp. The glass was now half-empty, and Domingo had thus far shown no signs of slowing down. "Hell of a job to get the captain's fat ass out of bed and convince him to set sail for the lights, but we somehow got there without his rotting junk-heap falling to pieces in the process."
Another gulp. They had become intermingled with Domingo's punctuation throughout the course of the conversation.
"We put ashore, had a look around, but it was dawn by the time we'd got inland enough to get to them, nimble little buggers that they were. We couldn't see them when it got lighter, but we DID see something else."
Don took another sip from his own stein and leaned forward expectantly. The conversation wouldn't have been nearly so interesting had Domingo been of sounder mind.
"Weeeeeell." Domingo enunciated the monosyllabic word with an exaggerated expression of chagrin. "We saw a plaque. Quite new, hadn't even begun to rust. And it rains a LOT in North Ocean." Another swig. "And do you know, kind sir, exactly what this plaque SAID?"
Don rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, but Domingo's glass was suddenly slammed down onto the table, sending flying a few of the flecks of foam that were all that remained of its contents. Domingo himself shot up and roared: "It said 'WILL 'O WISPS-FIRST DISCOVERED BY VYSE, KING OF ROGUES!" Domingo bellowed, hoarsely. "JANUARY 13th, 1512 A.R.!"
Don leaned back, away from the outburst, although he'd seen it coming. He'd had the foresight to put down his own glass a moment before, for fear that Domingo's furious tirade would cause Don to spill his own loqua. "So.you're upset that Vyse got there first?"
Domingo blinked at him for a frozen second, before sitting back down with a thump and slamming a clenched fist on the table, rattling the two loqua glasses thereon. "Goddamnit, Don! Aren't you listening?!? Vyse had been there-and made off with the treasure that some long-forgotten Black Pirate had buried there for safekeeping!"
Don raised an eyebrow. This was news to him. "Treasure?" he echoed, his interest now piqued.
"Sure! Perfect place for it, eh? So many islands in North Ocean-what better place to hide a stash than the one with the inexplicable light circling over it? It's the perfect marker."
He gesticulated lazily with his right hand, flicked his fingers, then peered closely at them, apparently marvelling that there were, in fact, five of them. Don narrowed his eyes, considered his next words and took the plunge, trying to keep in mind that he was, in fact, arguing with someone considerably more inebriated than himself.
"Dom," he began, cautiously. "Vyse was in a bit of a hurry when he went through there. I don't think he really had time to go nosing about for a few black pirate trinkets, if there even were any. Black Pirates end up drinking most of their share of the loot anyway. Did you consider that maybe there never was any treasure?" As he spoke, Domingo lapsed further and further into silence, an encouraging sign, so Don thought. "Besides, what happened to the spirit of adventure, anyway? 'Because its there' and all that?"
At that last comment, Domingo pushed his chair back, rose to his feet very slowly (and unsteadily), put his hands on his hips and glared down at the navigator. "Spirit of Adventure?" he echoed mockingly. "Try paying the rent with THAT, why doncha?" Don opened his mouth to reply, but Domingo ploughed on regardless. "That whole 'because it's there' crap'll get you in the history books alright, if that's what you're into. But I'm a bloody treasure hunter, Don-o-a treasure hunter!"
Behind Domingo, the door to the pub opened, admitting the establishment's last patron for the evening. Don casually glanced around Domingo's gesticulating form, and his eyes widened in stark terror. Across the room, Polly grinned in anticipation. Domingo pressed down onto the table with his fists, apparently to steady himself. "That means, mate,"-he swayed ever-so- slightly just then-"That I, y'know, hunt treasure!"
The newcomer ambled over to their table, positioning himself behind Domingo and raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Don made a few frantic indications of his arrival to Domingo, who regarded him with an irritated glare. "Stop squirmin', man! Tryin' to talk to you, here! Anyways, treasure huntin's what I do, with all that comes wi' it. S' a lifestyle in an' of itself." He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded halfway between a cough and burp and Don persisted in trying to alert the hapless explorer to the new presence in the pub without making it appear too obvious.
"Which means," Domingo continued after a moment of cross-eyed thought. "Women, drink, gold, widespread admiration, women, recognition, gold." He waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever. You get the idea. And, mate," at this, he leaned forward conspirationally before proclaiming, in quite an audible voice. "I can't exactly continue that bleedin' lifestyle when bloody Vyse the bloody legend keeps making off with MY treasures and MY discoveries-"
And behind him, someone cleared his throat impatiently. Domingo froze, and his expression became inscrutable. Were it not for a slight widening of his eyes, one would not have been able to discern that the phrase "Oh, bloody HELL" had just then begun to loop itself through his mind. It was nicely complimented by Don's own frozen mask of horror.
Domingo took a deep breath, straightened up and spun around, grinning manically. "Ah, Cap'n Vyse! THERE you are!"
~*~*~*~
"-But Captain! We're in the middle of nowhere!"
Leaning casually on the railing of the Delphinus' outer deck, Vyse of the Blue Rogues grinned down at the source of the supplicant whine. A few metres away from the ship, and slightly below Vyse's direct line of vision, Domingo stood unsteadily in one of the Delphinus' jolly boats, frantically waving his arms. At the wheel, considerably more stable on his feet, stood the silent Lawrence whilst near the back of the little, the Valuan street urchin Marco made equally frantic gestures in Vyse's direction.
"Exactly," Vyse cheerfully called down to the hapless explorer. He pointed into the distance, where the late afternoon sun illuminated the dunes of the distant Nasr shore. "No one's really explored this part of the desert. There could be treasures untold out there, Domingo. Could be just the thing to quiet that big mouth o' yours!"
Domingo could do nothing but stare stupidly at him, but Marco piped up in his stead. "'Ere!" he bellowed at his captain. "If 'e's the one who shot 'is mouth off, why'm I in 'ere with 'im?"
"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that, Marco," Vyse chuckled in return. "I'll just say this-Khalifa wasn't too pleased with what you did to her tent, y'know."
"Wasn't my fault it burned down," Marco protested sulkily. "Didn't know it was flammable, like."
"It was silk, Marco," Vyse reminded him. "Of course its bloody flammable."
That seemed to quiet him, and Lawrence took advantage of the lull to raise a questioning hand.
"And you're down there because Marco can't steer and Domingo'll be too busy scanning EACH AND EVERY INCH of the desert for something to make this little impromptu expedition worthwhile, Lawrence," Vyse said smoothly. "So you'll ferry 'em around without complaint, thanks. For what I'm paying you, it's the very least you can do."
He gave a short, unclassifiable little laugh and gave a thumbs-up to Don, watching the exchange from the Bridge one story above them, who nodded in response and began barking orders into the speaking tube which kept him in touch with Brabham in the engine room. Then Vyse turned back to the reluctant band of wayfarers and said, in all seriousness; "We'll be back here in four days, after we finish up in Esperanza. Try not to die of thirst or anything"-this he truly meant in jest; he'd made sure the storage locker in the back of the jolly boat was well stocked-"And Domingo-when we come back, you and me are going to have a little talk about getting piss- assed drunk and then slagging off the captain behind his back. Cheers. And by the way, I DO expect my prized lookout to have found something when we come back."
He strode off back inside and shut the hatch behind him. Lawrence and Marco stared mutely at their ship as it slowly swung away from them and continued on to the south. Then they turned as one toward their snappily dressed companion and glared murderously at him. Domingo returned their glare with a baleful one of his own and spread his arms in frustration.
"What? What?"
~*~*~*~
~Aaaaaah, yes. That's right,~ Domingo mused ruefully, a few more shots from the pursuing black pirate jerking him back to the present. ~We're in this situation because I'm a real asshole when I'm dru-~
And then the shots hit home. Marco yelped in surprise, more than horror, as the impact from the cannon shells striking the rear of the craft caused it to jolt spasmodically up. Domingo acted without thinking, one slender arm snapping around and seizing the boy by the back of his cotton shirt. It was a timely move, and prevented the suddenly violently erratic motion of the jolly boat from simply bucking the boy out like water from a pail.
Pushing the boy against the narrow rail rimming the edge of passenger area until he had it clasped tightly in his own death grip, Domingo turned towards their Helmsman. It was on the tip of his tongue to bark some unnecessary, if frantic, request for evasive manoeuvres. But the words died on his lips as the fumes from the irreparably damaged engine reached his nose.
It was then that he noticed that, despite Lawrence's best efforts, the nose of the lifeboat steadfastly refused to dip upwards. And the desert, it seemed, was rushing upward at an uncomfortable rate...