You call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye.

- Eagles, "The Last Resort"

9

Gray woke up with a start. There was a sudden thump somewhere near him and he lifted his head off the pillow, eyes still bleary with sleep, and tried to pry them open.

"Did I wake you up?" Luca's voice. Gray dropped his head back on the pillow. "Sorry. Was tryna be quiet."

"Mmm." Gray raised his arms and stretched his back. All the rocking and rolling aboard the ship had made him sore. "What time is it?"

"Hold up." Sounds of rustling. "It's... 6:38 AM. Was just gonna freshen up and get somethin' to eat. You wanna sleep a little more?"

Gray groaned. He knew that he should be getting up, but his body refused. After two straight days of travelling, both he and Luca had been beat. So for the first few days of the voyage, they spent most of their time inside their cabin – Gray on his bunk, and Luca overhead on his.

But now, the novelty had worn off. He wanted to be up and about, walking around on deck and watching the sea. Maybe get some food. His stomach growled at the thought. Gray chuckled.

Okay, definitely get some food.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a while," Gray replied, yawning, and making no effort to stifle it.

"Sure thing. See you soon, Gray."

The benefits of sending Luca first were twofold. Not only did Gray get a precious few moments to laze around, but it also made sure that he would get off his ass in less than three minutes. If he didn't, there would no sausages left. As much as Gray liked potatoes, surviving on mash alone seemed rather bleak. And that was motivation enough.

Some tossing and turning later, Gray decided to cut his losses and get up. It had taken a while for him to find his sea legs, but Luca had been a natural. The boy had been like a young puppy let loose on a gigantic field full of squishy balls. He'd run around the length and breadth of the vessel and poked his head into every room that wasn't private. Introducing himself to the crew was very important to him.

After cleaning up, Gray changed out of his sleepwear and went out onto the deck. And just like every day, he stopped and admired the view for a while.

All around him, stretched as far as he could see, was nothing. Absolutely nothing. No signposts, no landmarks. Nothing. Except the sun, the clouds, and the living ocean for a floor. The waves that the Dreadnought was cruising over were mild and gentle. Maybe five, ten feet high. At least, compared to what they would have to go through later. Gray slapped the guardrail twice, lightly, and went up to the galley, wondering when next he would be able to talk to Erza.

She'd sounded relieved, he thought. It had been three days, and he wondered how the others reacted. Were they glad that help was on the way? Were they bummed out that it would be him? He sighed. Disappointed or not, they didn't have a choice. He'd drag them all back if it came down to it.

The galley was alive with the happy scent of sausages, and Gray spotted both Luca and Boschen as soon as he walked in.

"Over here!" Luca waved at him. "Herr Boschen was just telling me about his seals!"

"Zey are not my seals, young Herr," Boschen said, stroking his massive moustache. "I only taken sie piktures of zem."

"And get this! These seals are, like, huge!" Luca spread his arms wide. "How much did they weigh again?"

"A souzant pounts on aferage."

"A thousand pounds on average!"

Gray, bemused, thanked the man who served him a plate of sausage and mash. As he fed himself a spoonful, he turned to Boschen. "You research lion seals?"

"My passhion," the man replied. "I haf kome to zee Sous Pole efery year for sree years now. Splendit animals."

"Tell 'im about the time that one female adopted you!"

The big man laughed heartily. "It vas last year. I vas in zee vater viz a big female lion seal, ya? Sche vas longer zan our twelfe foot dinghy. I kaught her vile sche vas feedink – bitink zee heads off penguins, ya?"

Gray, in the process of biting into a piece of sausage, paused and put it back down on his plate.

If Boschen saw, he didn't care for he went on: "Ant I vas in zee vater vis guts and bloot floatink on zee surface. Fery disturbink. But zen zis female swims up to me ant opens up her mous ant makes zis noise... like a jackhammer. Sreat display, ya?"

"And were you scared?" Gray asked, focusing on the mash instead.

"Oh, ya. I vas afrait. I vas petrifiet. But I kloset my eyes ant hopet sche voult go avay." He chuckled. "Sche didn't. But she dit kalm down." He paused. "Zen sche brought me a penguin."

"To eat?"

"Ya. Sche brought a live penguin, helt it in her mous, ant let it go near me. I dit not know vat to do. It swam pasht me, ant zee seal gave me zis look of konfusion."

"Surprised you wouldn't eat, huh?"

"Ya. So sche brought me anozer."

This time, Gray choked on his sausage and had to chase it down with some water. "Another?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, ya. Sche dit zis anozer sree times. Sche vould katch a penguin ant let it go, over ant over, tirink it out, ant zen sche voult brink it to me. Efery time, sche voult brink me a penguin zat vas more tiret zan zee lasht."

"Innit great, Gray?"

"Outstanding."

"Ant zen sche shtarted bringink me deat penguins."

Gray gave up on trying to eat after that. "What."

"Deat penguins," Boschen repeated in a matter of fact tone. "Sche voult drown zem ant zen srow zem at my face. I hat about sree deat penguins floatink arount my heat."

"Oh gods."

"Ant zen sche dit zis sing vere sche kame down vis a deat penguin in her mous, twirlink like a sexy ballerina down a pole. Zen sche shpun ant shpat out zee penguin at me."

By then, Gray was shaking with laughter. "Please tell me you at least pretended to eat this one."

"Satly, no. Howefer, after zat attempt, sche just got depresset ant left." Herr Boschen sat back and brushed his beard. "Perhaps I traumatiset her."

"That's amazing." Gray chuckled and shook his head. When he went back to his food, he found that Luca had cleaned his plate of the sausages while he was busy laughing. He shot the brat a scathing look. "You fucker."

"All's fair," the boy replied.

"Uh-huh." Gray aggressively fed himself some mash to get over the loss. "Herr Boschen, any idea when we hit the Furious Fifties?"

Luca blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Or the Screaming Sixties?" Gray went on, ignoring the little twerp.

"I vould say vee hit zee Fifties late tonight. I hungen sie das inklinometer amitships, near zee kaptain's kuarters."

"Excellent."

"Okay, someone needs to start talking." Luca crossed his arms over his chest. "Furious Fifties? Screaming Sixties?" He looked from Boschen to Gray. "Should I be afraid here?"

Gray busied himself with eating, and Luca turned to the Icebergan. "Herr Boschen?"

"Latitudes, young Herr. Zee equator is zero degrees, ant zee poles are ninety."

"Why're they called that, then?"

"You see, young Herr, all zee vorlt's oceans meet ant mix at vat vee kall zee Sousern Ocean, zee cirkumpolar sea zat kuts zee Sous Pole off. Ant it beink open vaters, zee vafes ant shtorms are unimpeded by landmasses, makink zem fery dangerous ant impreshife."

Luca audibly gulped. "And, uh, we hit this storm belt tonight?"

"Vee are alreaty in zee shtorm belt, young Herr. Tonight vee enter zee region vere zee shtorms ant vafes shtart becomink fery, how you say, inshpiret."

"Size of waves depends on the strength of the wind and how far it blows over the water," Gray added. "That's called a fetch. With a short fetch, you get a really choppy sea. Lotsa medium sized waves. With a long fetch, you get a swell of rolling waves. That's what we're heading towards." He looked across at Boschen. "What's the tallest wave you've encountered, Herr Boschen?"

"Two years ago, we kaught a real greybeart." He chuckled rather fondly at the memory. "Two souzant feet in length ant a hundret or so high. It hit us at sirty miles per hour."

Gray clicked his tongue. Luca, however, had visibly paled.

"They're called greybeards because of the foam at the top," Gray told the boy, who nodded idly. "If you hadta guess, Herr Boschen, would you say a wave like that sank the 'Nebula'?"

"Hmm. Zat voult be my first guess, ya. Zey kan easily kapsize a schip if zee helmsman is kaught unavare."

"Okay, that is some bullshit!" Luca cried in a panic. "And you two are way too calm about this! What gives?"

"You get uset to it, young Herr." Boschen chuckled and slapped Luca's shoulder, probably dislocating it. "Zee 'Dreadnought'is a mighty schip. You know vat it means, ya?"

"'Having no fear,'" Gray supplied.

Boschen grinned widely. "Exaktly. Be free from dreat, young Herr. We keep a goot krew. You vill be perfektly safe!"

"Perfectly safe my ass," Luca wailed from the top bunk. "We're all gonna die! Die, I tell you!"

Gray was in the same boat but, in an effort to preserve his dignity, clutched the mattress and said, "Uh-huh."

A Force Eight storm had hit them in the evening, giving them the first taste of moderately rough waters. The most frightening part was when the ship was at maximum roll – when the ship stayed down for a while before re-righting movements began. It was like being in a lift that perpetually fell.

"I'm going to the captain's quarters," Luca announced. Gray heard him sit up. "I'll feel way safer there."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather see the wave that topples us instead of waiting in here to drown."

Faultless logic. Gray couldn't let the brat go alone, either. Even if the ship didn't sink, he might get splashed overboard. That wouldn't be pretty.

With a sigh, Gray got up, too. "All right, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. It's gonna be nasty outside."

And nasty it was. Gray was drenched top to bottom the moment he stepped onto the deck. He tried to hold the handrail, but the constant rolling made the ship tilt so far towards the water that at full roll, it almost seemed like they would smack headlong into a wall. He was convinced that he could touch the water if he just reached out.

"Imma be sick," Luca groaned.

"Get sick once we hit the snow line," Gray returned and started dragging him along to the captain's cabin.

The ship was being piloted that night by forty year old Jeanne Dufrense, who had the most experience in polar waters bar none. She had a habit of blasting rock and roll in the cabin whenever she was at the wheel, and that wasn't any different now.

"Evenin'," she greeted them with a grin, shouting over the music. "Nice breeze, oui?"

"Breeze?" Luca did a double take. "That's a breeze? That's a Force Eight storm!"

"Force Twelve as of an hour ago, but ehh." She shrugged, returning her playful eyes to the horizon. "Still just a draft."

Sensing Luca's dumbfoundedness, Gray sighed. "Luca wanted to know whether the ship was okay."

Jeanne tilted her head. "How d'you mean?"

Luca gestured downwards. "The hull... y'know?"

"Ah." She nodded. She understood. "This is not rough, you know. It will get much worse."

"Just what I wanna hear," Gray muttered under his breath.

Luca gulped. "How d'you mean, worse? How worse?"

"One in every 300,000 waves will be about four times larger than all the rest. Some call them rollers. Me?" Tossing her blonde hair, she gave them both a grin. "Me, I call them bastards. And that-" she jabbed her forefinger at the glass, "-is an absolute bastard."

Gray peered out into the night, following Jeanne's finger. However, what with the spray, the rain, and the darkness, he couldn't see much beyond the ship's searchlights.

"Is there a wave coming?" he asked.

"Oh, mais oui. Look harder."

So he did. But still, nothing stood out to him. When he mentioned this to Jeanne, she chuckled and said, "What is the furthest thing you can see?"

"It's this faint white line." Luca blinked. "Is that ice?"

"Non. That is the foam of a greybeard. The very top of the wave."

Gray stared out of the glass, waiting to catch a glimpse. And when he did, he felt a bubble of anxiety pop in his stomach.

"That... spans the entire horizon, Jeanne..." he said carefully.

The helmswoman nodded. "Biggest wave I've seen in three years. Three, maybe three and a half thousand feet in length, easily."

"Height?" Gray asked automatically, dreading the answer.

"A hundred and twenty feet," Jeanne replied easily. "Give or take twenty."

"Fuck," Luca said.

One of the lights on the instrument panel started blinking green and Jeanne grunted. She pressed a button and put on a headset. "Bridge-watch, report. What do you see?"

Luca glanced at Gray. "What's that?"

Gray put his fingers to his lips and followed the conversation.

"You sure?" Jeanne went on. "How many? How big? Uh-huh. Straight ahead? Got it. I'll be on call." She lifted one of the earphones and turned to Gray. "Growlers. At least four."

"What's a growler?"

"Semi-submerged chunks of ice," Gray answered Luca, his brows drawn. "Could be icebergs."

"We passed the Fifties. Won't be surprised." Jeanne muttered. "The ship can take it."

"I'm sure, but I don't wanna test it." Gray started shrugging off his shirt. It was soaked anyway. "How far away's that wave?"

"Mmm. Ten minutes. Probably less."

"Great."

"But why're you stripping?" Luca asked as Gray gave him his discarded shirt. "I thought you quit!"

"Kid, I wouldn't complain." Jeanne gave Gray a once-over and grinned appreciatively. "Me-ow."

Gray, not knowing what else to say, nodded. "Thanks. I guess. Anyway, I'm goin' up to the bridge." He pointed at Luca. "You stay here."

"Hey, man, you don't gotta tell me twice." Luca took a seat immediately. "But why're you goin' there?"

"Stop the growlers from smacking into the ship."

"Oh. Great." Luca nodded. Then his eyes widened. "Hey, wait a minute! You're not gonna use that, are you?"

And though Gray knew what the kid meant, he was already out of the pilothouse and running for the bridge. He clenched his jaws at the thought but pressed on, adjusting his weight and stride as the ship lurched dangerously either way. By then, he was pretty well acquainted with the layout of the ship, so finding the ladder to the bridge wasn't hard. But climbing up while being battered by hurricane force winds was a nuisance. Gray froze his palm to every rung of the ladder to keep himself from getting blown away. The frozen steel ripped away his skin every time, and he was bleeding all over himself by the time he reached the top.

The officer of the watch nodded and helped him up. Though he was shouting at the top of his voice, the wind and the waves were carrying away most of his words. With some difficulty, however, Gray was able to make out a few words.

...said... be... coming... growlers... help...

It was all he needed to fill in the gaps and Gray nodded, patting the man on the shoulder. He froze both his and the man's shoes to the floor to stop them from being swept away. Then he spread his arms wide and got to work.

Okay, c'mon. Make this worth it.

Tendrils of magic awoke along his right arm, spreading from his forearm to his fingertips, and then up his shoulder, along the collarbone and into his left arm as well. Gray took a deep breath and let the magic coalesce on his fingertips. He let it build and threw it out in waves on either side of him, his magic pulsing out into the angry ocean.

For a while, he felt nothing. Gray thought that perhaps the water was too turbulent for him to pick up anything, but then he felt the tingle. Of his magic returning to his fingertips. Gray smiled to himself.

His Slayer magic allowed him to consume ice, but to do that, one had to find ice first. And this was how. As his magic waves returned after bouncing off the growlers, Gray could pinpoint where each one was. The first thing he realised was that there weren't four.

Seven. Two on starboard, five on port.

And once he knew where they were, he could control their trajectory. Push them away.

All right. Let's do this.

He strained his muscles. Strained his mind. Against the whiplashing wind. Against the stinging spray. Against the speed with which the growlers hurtled towards the hull.

And he pushed back.

There was nothing. The growlers didn't even slow down, much less stop. They kept coming closer and closer and he couldn't do a thing about it.

More.

Champing his teeth, he pushed more magic out of his body, drawing from the tips of his toes, up his spine and then out of his fingers.

More!

Despite the sub-zero temperatures, he felt sweat streak his back, cling to his forehead and hair. He squeezed his eyebrows shut and opened his mouth, his chest cramping up and making him breathe haggardly.

MORE!

White stars burst to life behind his eyelids as a primal, monstrous roar shot up his stomach and out of his mouth. Immediately, a burst of magic shot forth, sheathing him and flowing out in an explosion, overwhelming all his senses and ripping them away.

Gray felt the growlers shoot off in every direction like cannonballs. Where they went, he didn't know. Didn't care.

All he knew was that it felt fucking amazing.

He had opened the door to a font of incredible power, and he wanted to keep the door open. Keep drinking. Never stop. Show the world that they were right to fear him and what he could do.

But then he was reminded. Reminded of the last time he had felt this way. Of the things he had done. Of the consequences.

The eyes. All they hold are fear. Fear and hopelessness.

With a gasp, Gray opened his eyes. Instant guilt thudded into his chest and he fell to his knees then and there.

Gods. He thumped the steel floor. I almost did it again.

There were several reasons for his self-imposed exile. This was chief among them. Every time it happened, it ended with disastrous consequences. For him, and especially for others.

All of his magic blinked out immediately, even the ice holding him to the floor. And as soon as that happened, Gray was thrown back against the metal rails of the bridge.

The officer, who had landed beside him, shouted into his ear, "Buddy! You okay?"

"Yeah." Gray shouted back, massaging the back of his head. Then he looked ahead. Felt the blood drain from his face. "Nope."

A towering wall of solid darkness stood before him, its wrathful bubbling head cresting at least twenty feet over the bridge. Gray gaped wordlessly. The bridge itself was at least ninety feet high. The wave dwarfed the ship in every possible way.

And yet, the Dreadnought charged ahead.

Gray watched the bow rise, and rise, and rise, until the entire ship was sailing skywards, pointed straight toward the stars. For a moment, Gray pictured Jeanne Dufrense's manic face, eyes glinting as she smashed into the tallest wave she had seen in a few years.

Oh, fuck.

"Hold on!" the officer bellowed.

"To what?!"

There was a sudden feeling of weightlessness. Gray was pretty sure there was, at least. He was certain that his ass came off the floor. And then, there was water. Water everywhere. The crest of the wave barrelled into the bow, taking with it everything that was loose and not either tied or nailed down. For Gray, it felt like taking a sledgehammer blow all over his body. Pinned to the back wall with his lungs being crushed by the wall of water, he held his breath just long enough. As the water receded, he gasped for air.

But what he saw left him gasping even more.

Coming off the wave, the ship was now plunging, nose-diving towards the water. The feeling of weightlessness returned, making him feel as if his stomach wanted to rush up his throat. Is the ship in free fall? The thought made the hair on his head stand on end.

He braced himself for another wave, but the ship smashed through the water, displacing and cutting through it. The Dreadnought had survived a greybeard.

Gray just sat there, awash in seawater and shaken to the core. He had no way of knowing whether he'd pissed his pants, but he had a feeling that he had.

Next to him, the officer started howling with laughter.

"That was fucking awesome!" he shouted against the wind. "Fuck!"

Gray stared at the man. He was stunned by the absurdity of the situation. How the heck could he laugh like that, doubled over and clutching his stomach?

Then it hit him.

He figured we were gonna die. I just escaped death.

That made him chuckle. Proving an experienced officer wrong. Surviving the tallest bastard Jeanne had seen in years.

And once the chuckles started, they didn't stop easily.

Gray laughed. Against the wind and tide, against the stormy sea. He laughed with a man he didn't know for coming out alive from a situation where nobody had any business surviving.

And he laughed at the prospect of staying alive for just a bit longer.

It took a while for his condition to stabilise. Even when it did and strength returned to his limbs, Gray couldn't keep the grin off his face. He hummed a tune as he climbed down the ladder and started towards the pilothouse, waving cheerily at the sea every time the ship lurched. To him, the water seemed like an old friend now.

As soon as he entered the cabin, Luca jumped on him with a hug. Gray, startled, laughed by default and tousled the boy's hair.

"I thought you'd get swept away!"

"Nah. Take more than that to sweep me off my feet." He snickered mentally at his own joke and rubbed the boy's back. "Sorry if I scared you. I'm fine. Just really wet and in need of a shower."

Luca chuckled and let him go, looking him over. Thankfully, the black markings had disappeared by then. Gray didn't want to have to explain his little moment.

Unsurprisingly, Herr Slossen Boschen was also there in the pilothouse. Surprisingly, he was sporting a bruised cheek. When asked what had happened, he smiled wanly.

"My heafy glass betsite ashtray," he explained, rubbing his cheek tenderly. "Vis all zee loat of stubbet dog-ents, shtruck my face after zee lasht roll."

"It was kinda hairy," Luca admitted. "I think I slid a solid six yards down the deck on my stomach."

"What were you doing outside?" Gray squinted at the boy. "Thought I told you not to leave."

"I was checking the inclinometer."

"Oh? And how was the tilt?"

"Forty seven degrees," Luca answered readily. Boschen nodded. "Both ways, actually."

Gray whistled. "That's steep."

"Like I said, it was about to get worse." Jeanne nodded at Gray. "You look good wet. You single?"

In response, Gray took his shirt back from Luca and covered himself up. Jeanne laughed and turned back to the sea.

"Jokes aside, appreciate what you did for the ship." She nodded. "It's going to be like this for the rest of the trip, and it's good knowing I can count on you in a fix."

"Are growlers really that big a problem?" Luca asked. "Does he need to be on bridge-watch?"

"Non. Usually, they aren't a problem. But manoeuvring past them and having to deal with bastards can be annoying." She smiled. "I'll call on you if I need you, but get some sleep now, boys. The storm will pass in an hour or so."

Gray did not argue with her. He nodded, grabbed Luca, and went back to their cabin. It was only when he changed and lay down that he felt the exhaustion. Groaning, he sank into the mattress, eyes closed. It hit him all at once – mental, magical, physical and emotional exhaustion. It was something he felt in his very bones. If he stayed up, Gray knew he'd get a headache. He was also sure that not even a storm could keep him up anymore.

"Tired, huh?" Luca asked and climbed up to his bunk. "Use a lot of magic?"

The only answer Gray gave to that was a snore.

"This," said Benjamin McQuaid, the ship's resident oceanographer, pointing to a jar of seawater almost solid with crustaceans, "is the most productive ocean in the world!"

Gray hummed. The ship had began trawling that morning. Never had he seen the nets fill up so quickly. But considering where they were, it wasn't a surprise. He still listened to McQuaid's lecture politely, just because Luca looked absolutely thrilled.

They were roughly eight hundred miles off the coast of the south pole, roughly between the fiftieth and sixtieth parallels, in a zone about thirty miles wide where all the water bodies in the world met. This was the Polar Convergence Zone, affectionately called PCZ by the scientists.

"The waters from all of the oceans drop from a collective seven degrees to, to two degrees," McQuaid went on, warming up to his subject. "The cold and dense water heads downwards and the, the warmer, northern-derived waters thrust upwards!" He lifted his palms up into the air to demonstrate. "And they bring all manner of life forms to the surface! Like, like phytoplankton and algae, which feed billions of krill, which in, in turn support some seventy million penguins, thirty five million seals, and countless fish, whales and seabirds!"

Luca perked up. "Any chance we can see a whale?"

"In actual fact, I think we might!" McQuaid looked out as the trawling net was lifted. "Excuse me, but I need to, need to be there!"

"Do you think we'll see a whale?" Luca asked Gray, watching the net as it was pulled aboard. Gray hummed thoughtfully.

"I hope so."

"You don't sound convinced."

Gray tapped Luca's shoulder and started walking down the deck. "Krill farming is a huge business, y'know that?"

"What?"

"Yeah. They're a protein rich food source and can be harvested in thousands of tons. Lotsa fisheries do that. Have been for years." He waved at several of the deckhands, who were dropping their equipment into the water, measuring depth, temperature and salinity. "Which means that already, krill are culled to the point of scarcity. Extinction in some places."

"Wait, but that means... the whales and the fish and the birds have nothing to eat!"

"Bingo."

"But that's so wrong!" Luca was incensed. He thumped the guardrail and pocketed his hands immediately. "Why the fuck don't they stop? What happens if all the whales die?"

Gray shrugged. "People needta eat. We've already fucked the rest of the planet up the ass so bad, we're desperate for new food sources. And the krill fisheries have the backing of governments and rich individuals. They've got more money and manpower and opportunities than most anyone. Especially the scientific community."

Luca cursed under his breath. Gray led him onto the bridge wing and asked an officer of the watch for her binoculars.

"Plus, it takes the scientists a while to make an argument for control. For that, they need all the facts. And that's why expeditions like these are important." He put the binoculars to his eyes and looked up. "That's what makes the work that McQuaid and Boschen do so important. That's what makes Erza's quest so important. They might not be out beating up dragons, but they're still tryna save the world." He handed the binoculars to Luca and pointed at the sky. "And all that's in it."

Wordlessly, Luca followed the direction of his finger. His frown turned into a small smile. "Albatrosses."

"Yeah. They depend on the krill, too."

For a long while, they stood on the bridge wing, tracking the flight of the birds. The westerly winds battered the ship, and the water was as volatile as ever, but there was peace there. An unruly kind of quiet. The kind you feel not in the absence of a storm, but despite it.

"I won't let 'em die," Luca told Gray suddenly. "I'm gonna stop those people."

"Yeah?" Gray smiled to himself. "Y'know ya can't blast them with magic, right?"

"I know. I'll stop 'em, anyway. No short cuts. I got time."

"Yeah." Gray placed his hand on his ward's shoulder proudly. "I'm countin' on you."

We all are.

As the weeks passed by, the Dreadnought started feeling more and more like home. After living by himself for so long, Gray found that he liked being around the crew. They were all honest and hardworking and loved what they did. Most of all, they didn't pester him a lot, and he was grateful for that.

Luca, however, went out of his way to make friends. He would swap stories with the deckhands, sit in on oceanographic lectures by the scientists, and play cards with the watchkeepers. All in all, he was having a blast and Gray had an inkling that he had found what he wanted to do with his life. He hadn't spoken to him about it yet, but he had a feeling that the talk was coming.

As they entered March, the winds changed. The easterly winds joined the westerlies, and a cheer went up along those with previous polar experience.

"Where the two winds meet is called the Polar Divergence Zone. It means we're approaching the pack-ice," Gray had explained to a curious Luca. "That means we're nearing the coastline. And that means peaceful waters."

Jeanne Dufrense invited them into the pilothouse when it came time to start the actual ice-breaking process. She told them that she had been doing it for about fifteen years, but it never got any safer.

"If there are large floes with considerable amount of open water, like what we have before us now," she pointed to the two boulder sized floating chunks of ice on either side of them, "we can keep going and the water we displace will shove them aside."

"What about when there's solid ice?" Luca asked. "D'you, like, just smash through?"

"Yep." Jeanne laughed in a sing-song tone. "Exactly that. But we smash in only a little bit. We're basically pushing against mile after mile of ice, so we can't keep pushing. So we'll reverse a bit and hit it again. We do this repeatedly and saw our way through the ice."

"Gotta cost a lotta fuel, huh?"

"Oui. But it's the most efficient way we have." She hummed. "Dangerous, too. If you're not careful, the pack-ice might close in and crush the hull."

"Damn."

"You have to watch out for pulverised ice, too," Jeanne went on, her bright blue eyes glistening with excitement as she sailed through the ice floes, the ship's wake pushing them out of the way. "If they're more than a metre deep, they can stop a ship through sheer friction. You'll misjudge its consistency, sail in and get halted. Then the ice closes in behind your wake immediately, and you're trapped. Which is annoying. What you really want is a good storm here. Calm weather for any duration will kill you."

"Why's that? Thought peaceful passage was a good thing?"

"Sure. But here, once you're in the ice, you'll freeze fast if the temperature falls. At least waves will open up leads." She shrugged. "We'll get caught, too, don't worry. Happens to everyone." She offered them a grin. "Just hope we aren't near any icebergs when that happens."

And hope Gray did. So far, it seemed to be paying off. Every morning, they'd wake up to chairs toppled and tables sliding up against their bunks from its corner position. The only disturbance nowadays was the sudden, shuddering jolts they felt upon hitting ice, but they got used to that, too, in a few days.

The morning of March 19th was no different. Gray and Luca left their cabin for breakfast around six in the morning, as usual, but nobody was on deck. Gray stopped and looked around. All the equipment was still on the deck, but there were no hands to be seen. He knocked on all the cabins on the way to the galley, but got no response. And when he found even the kitchen deserted, he knew something was up.

"Please don't tell me we've been aboard a ghost ship all this time," Luca muttered but Gray paid him no mind. Instead, he turned and started walking towards to bow. Soon enough, he found everyone there was on the ship – scientists, officers, deckhands – all gathered on the bridge wings, staring out at the horizon solemnly.

"Who died?" Luca asked. Gray shushed him and started climbing the steps. Once there, he tapped the first person he saw on the shoulder.

"What's happening?" he asked. Then a thought hit him. "Are we sinking?"

The deckhand, named Ivan, shook his head and handed him a pair of binoculars. "Go ahead. See for yourself."

So Gray did. He went up to the guardrails, the crowd parting for him as he went. Everyone had a smile on their face. There was an underlying excitement in the murmured conversations going on. At the very front, Gray ran into Herr Slossen Boschen, who greeted him with a nod.

"What're we looking at?" Gray asked after shaking hands.

"Straight aheat," the doctor replied, and Gray, with a shrug, put the binoculars to his eyes.

And his jaw immediately fell open.

Immediately to his front, sparkling brilliantly in the dull, early winter's sun, Gray saw a wall of ice in the distance. In his estimation, they were maybe as tall as the Isvali mountains in his backyard. Probably taller. Definitely taller.

"Zee Vite Kliffs," Boschen breathed reverently. "Herr Fullbuster, you are lookink at zee Sous Pole."

Gray sucked in a long, shuddering breath. He pulled the binoculars from his eyes and handed them limply to Luca. He placed his hands on the guardrail, gripped it tightly, and bent forward, bowing his head.

You have my respect, he told the ice. I have never seen anything as overpowering as you. I only use a fraction of your power, and I know I can't hope to challenge or win against you. He straightened, eyes closed and sighed deeply. But I'm going to, regardless. I have to.

Gray opened his eyes and smiled at the horizon, at his objective. He was so close, he could barely contain his excitement.

"I'm going to take her from you and bring her back with me," he muttered. "To where she belongs. And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

On the 29th of March, after only ten days in the pack ice, the Dreadnought arrived at the polar coast. Jeanne Dufrense cruised west at nine knots, with the high cliffs to the south and the rim of the pack to starboard.

Over the radio, she had told Gray that she was making for a bay where they would disembark. It was one she used frequently, but it already being winter, the ship wouldn't be able to stop for long. Whatever they had to unload would have to be done within half an hour.

Hans Steiner had established radio contact with the Chosen Frozen. Their base was ten miles inland and Erza had promised to send up a flare to mark their position and help them navigate. She also said that the weather was still good.

"Make use of it, Gray," she had warned. "It changes at the drop of a hat."

The goodbyes had started the moment he had woken up, with every hand on deck saluting them as they came out for breakfast. Herr Boschen gave a stirring speech in their honour during the meal, and all the scientists applauded their resolve to save their friends.

"No scientist vors zeir salt will ever abanton human lives," he had said. "Ant it vas our privilege to host ant help you. Go vis zee gots. Bringen sie das Chosen Frozen bakk safely."

Jeanne Dufrense had given them a hug apiece. "Be careful," was all she'd said. And though she slipped Gray her number during the hug, he couldn't help but respect the skipper who had taken on and triumphed over the worst the ocean had thrown at them.

Luca was currently busy taking pictures with each and every single one of the crew on Gray's phone. This was easily the most emotional day of his young life, Gray realised. Saying goodbye to friends was always hard. Especially two hundred of them in one go.

Gray stood on the deck with two hundred pounds of their cargo – food, medicine, water, tents, spades, picks, theodolites, cameras etc. He had his eyes on the bay they were sailing towards, where they were supposed to get off.

The bay, which Jeanne had named after herself, was about half a mile wide at the mouth. Hemmed in by the White Cliffs, the bay tapered V-like for a mile and a half to its apex. There, the cliffs fell away to a snow ramp which gave them access to the interior. Jeanne's plan was to get as close as possible, unload as fast as possible, and get the hell out. Gray, however, had a better idea.

He looked back. Found that most, if not all, of the crew had gathered at the bridge wings. He took a deep breath and saluted them all.

"Thank you for everything you all have done for us!" He called out, shouting above the wind. "It was thanks to you accepting our request on such short notice, and going out of your designated route to drop us off at," he grinned, "Dufrense Bay, that we can conduct this rescue operation at all! When we reach Erza and the crew, when we bring them back, rest assured that the world will know you all as heroes. Thank you!" He raised his hands and clapped. "Give yourselves a standing ovation for once! You bastards deserve it!"

Laughter broke out among the crew and they did clap, whistling and whooping to celebrate their bravery. Luca joined him on the bow then, dabbing his eyes with his sleeves. Gray ruffled his hair.

"You ready?"

The boy nodded. Gray, in turn, looked at the crew and grinned. "Now, we've inconvenienced you enough!" The crowd booed. "But you won't hafta do it anymore! We're gonna unload and disembark without the ship needing to stop, so don't slow yourselves down!" He clapped his hands together, making five magic circles appear in the air behind him. "Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!"

From each of the circles burst forth a giant, ice eagle. With a wingspan to dwarf the largest condor, the birds swooped down and grabbed on to the various crates laid out on the deck, before flying up and carrying them to the bay, the designated unloading spot.

A chant went up among the audience: This is awesome! Clap clap clapclapclap. This is awesome!

Even Luca joined in, all tears forgotten. Gray watched the birds work with his hands on his hips, making sure that none of the equipment was damaged. When at last the final crate of food was carried off, the crew whooped their approval.

"Now it's our turn," Gray said, raising his hand in farewell as the eagles grabbed him and Luca and lifted off. Instead of going straight for the bay, Gray made the birds do a loop around the ship, front and back.

He high-fived with as many crew members as he could while he flew around, Luca right behind him. They shot through the air, rounding the stern of the ice-breaker, and came back around, passing the pilothouse and waving at Jeanne.

And then, the circle complete, Gray made the birds take them to the bay.

The sound of laughter and cheering faded as they gained distance, the cold air stinging his face. It was difficult to keep his eyes open, but he did it anyway.

Once they had landed, Gray and Luca turned back towards the ship. It had already started backing up, moving away from them. Luca waved again, grinning through his tears at the ship that had been his home for weeks.

At that moment, the Dreadnought sounded its horn and Gray laughed. It was likely Jeanne, saying goodbye in the most Jeanne way possible. He raised his hand and waved, too.

Goodbye, he thought, thinking of all the weird and wonderful characters and experiences he had encountered aboard that ship. He couldn't help but sigh. Goodbye and good luck.

Then, he turned around. Faced the endless white horizon that would be his next challenge. Ten miles. Their camp is ten miles inland. He looked around at all the crates and packages. God damn.

Just as he finished his thought, a ball of light shot up into the sky from the direction they were supposed to go. Gray chuckled. It wasn't a flare. It was a fireball.

Natsu.

Hans Steiner had told Erza that they had made landfall. Now, they were on their own in a barren snowscape where nothing survived.

"That's them?" Luca asked, turning around and spotting the flare. "That's where we hafta go?"

"Yep." Gray nodded. Then he smirked at the boy. "Are you cold enough, kid?"