5:
"Isn't this exciting?" Pinta chirped. "The open air before us, four strong men, the world is ours to take!"
"Pinta," Don dropped his binoculars from his eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you talk a lot?"
Pinta looked up at him and blinked. "Why, no." he replied. "Is it true that your first pick for the crew was Urala?"
"Where did you hear that?" Don demanded.
Pinta laughed nervously as he took a few steps away from Don's fist. "It's not so much that I heard of your request, but rather of how it upset Kirala."
Don nodded and sighed. He merely asked Urala to fly on his ship and Kirala flew into a fury.
"Are you out of your mind, sailor?" she had barked.
"I wasn't speaking to you." Is what he should have said. Instead, Don had been so overcome with shock; any semblance of words fell into the back of his throat.
"Can't you see that the Empress is here?" Kirala demanded. "Why would you even think that Urala would go off gallivanting with you when she needs to be here to see to the Empress' needs?" With that, Kirala shot Urala a glare before storming off towards Enrique and Moegi.
Urala gave Don a quick apologetic smile. As she bowed, a raven lock of hair fell from behind her ears and she scurried after her older sister.
Why had Don thought to have her in his crew anyway? Clearly it was a gut instinct of sorts, which he likened to his decision to travel to Esperanza, an instinct that wasn't to be trusted. Not that it mattered anyway, since she had decided against joining him.
"Why did you want Urala in your crew?" Pinta asked.
"Well, you tasted that slop Khazim made for lunch, didn't you?" Don smirked as he noticed the color in Pinta's face darken.
"You have a very valid point." Pinta murmured.
"But it's just us four now," Don said. "so how good are you at cooking, Pinta?"
Pinta giggled. "I can make a meal that's fit to live off of, if that's what you mean." he replied. "Nothing that could compare to Urala's or Polly's skill, mind you, but something decent enough to eat."
"That's good to know." Don grunted. "How about you try your hand at dinner tonight?"
"I thought that it had already been decided that it would be Marco's turn tonight." Pinta pointed out politely.
Don laughed gruffly. "Are you sure you want to find out what that kid'll cook up?" he asked. "After living for years in the Valuan slums, Marco's just surprised that bread can be white and soft."
"I suppose I could whip up something tonight." Pinta agreed.
"Hey, Don!" Marco came running towards the other two sailors and skidded to a halt.
"Marco, while we're on this ship, call me 'Captain,' okay?" Despite the seriousness of the order, Don couldn't help but smirk.
In the two years that he had known the boy, Marco had grown quite a bit. Still, the shirt that Vyse had given him was far too big. Fina had offered to alter it to Marco's size, but the boy refused, probably under the assumption that it would no longer be "Vyse's shirt."
"Whatever, Captain." Marco rolled his eyes. "I just thought you'd like to know that Khazim said he spotted something."
"What did he find?" Don demanded.
"I don't know." Marco retorted. "Maybe something that resembled a ship. We are looking out for a ship, right?"
"Listen here, you sad excuse for a gnome," Don growled. "come back and talk to me when you're man enough to grow some chest hair."
Don stalked across the deck, leaving Pinta to burst into tense fits of laughter and Marco to scowl.
He walked from the bow to the stern. Khazim stood, his back facing Don, as he stared out at the open sky, agitated.
"Marco said that you wanted to speak with me." Don called out.
Khazim turned to face his captain, unstartled. His cat-like grace coupled with the way the olive skin of his bare chest glistened beneath the sun made Don feel embarrassed. He tugged on his mustache awkwardly before forcing himself to join the gunner by the stern.
"I think I may have found what we've been looking for." There was a certainty to Khazim's voice that was only betrayed by his hesitance to speak those words.
"Where?"
As Don lifted his binoculars to his eyes, Khazim pointed down and to the left. A few leagues below and slowly sinking, what appeared to be half a ship was haphazardly floating in the sky.
"I hope you're wrong, buddy." Don muttered. He slipped the binoculars into a pocket in his jacket and gave Khazim a grim look. "Go grab those other two and bring them below deck. I'm going to see if I can bring this ship on level with that salvage."
"What will we do after that happens?" Khazim asked.
"We'll find out when that happens." Don replied dryly.
Khazim set off to find Pinta and Marco while Don headed below deck. Don smirked as he stepped deeper into the bowels of the ship. He was overjoyed that Vyse would gift him with a vessel at all, but whoever thought to place the crew's cabins by the engine room must have been insane.
Don walked through the Engine Room, careful not to disturb the machinery that was harvesting the energy of Blue Moon Stones. He wondered briefly how long the Engine Room would remain clean. Don entered the Steering Room and stepped towards the ship's steering equipment.
He stared at the map on the wall to contemplate the best route to fly to get to the salvage. Khazim joined him shortly, followed by Marco and Pinta.
"Why do we all have to be down here?" Marco asked.
"I've got a pretty heavy hand when it comes to steering." Don explained. "I don't want to accidentally fling you off the deck if I pull the ship starboard really quick."
Marco groaned and shook his head. Don ignored him and directed the ship south, towards the salvage. Once they were on level with the shipwreck, he had the New Hope anchored and the crew headed back up to the deck.
Don's stomach tied itself into a knot when he caught sight of the other ship's anchor. Emblazoned across the front it read: Salvation.
"Oh dear…" Pinta murmured.
Don pushed the bile back from his throat. "Don't just stand there." he commanded. "We need to look for survivors. Go!"
Khazim nodded and grabbed Marco by the arm. The two carefully boarded the broken ship and began to explore it. Don began to pace from the starboard to port. Pinta kept his eyes feverishly on the wreckage.
When the two returned, Marco immediately excused himself and made a beeline towards the Crew's Cabins. Pinta shot Don a panicked look before running after the boy. Khazim's liquid black eyes were red-rimmed. He swallowed hard as he searched for the correct words.
Don could feel his lungs collapsing. His heart pounded frantically. "Just say it, Khazim." he urged.
"There were no survivors aboard the Salvation." Khazim forced out. His lips pulled back in what appeared to be an intended sob, but he pressed on. "All the life rafts were accounted for. There is no way Miss Aika could have survived."
Don had suspected just as much, yet, for some reason, being told by Khazim felt much worse than just believing. The pressure in his chest was gone, but in its place was a bizarre numbness. He felt empty.
"Is there anyway to tell what happened?" Don asked quietly.
"All I know is that she must have been attacked by another ship with outdated cannons." Khazim offered. He pinched the bridge of his nose fiercely as he tried to blink back tears.
"Let's plot a course back to Crescent Isle." Don threw his arm around the larger man's shoulders. He led Khazim back to the Crew's Cabins. They could all use a stiff drink and Don wasn't about to stop them.