A/N: For the sake of Whumptober, canon is either fluid or non-existent. There may not be explanations for the various scenarios.

No. 1: Safety Net | "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why do you keep pursuing this?" Tolya asked. "The first two tries didn't work."

"They didn't achieve the intended result, but I learned from each attempt," Sturmhond replied jovially as he jogged up the companionway to the upper deck at the rear of the ship, which was actually a smaller sailing vessel attached to the Volkvolny.

"This is madness," Tolya persisted. Sailing a ship in the skies. It was preposterous.

"Where is your sense of adventure?" Sturmhond said with a daring grin.

"On the ground where it belongs." He shot his sister a look for help, but Tamar merely shrugged. Once their captain set his mind on something, nothing could dissuade him.

"Are you ready, Peter?" Sturmhond called.

The young Squaller made his way up onto the deck and got into position.

"Suppose you gain the desired altitude this time," Tolya kept nagging. "What if it fails then? There's no safety net."

Sturmhond shook his head fondly. "I've prepared for that contingency with parachutes."

"Para-what?" Tamar asked, perking up curiously.

Their captain bent down and lifted up a very large, overly stuffed sack with straps and buckles. Sturmhond strapped it to his back, cinching the buckles tightly in multiple places across his torso. He handed a second to Peter to put on.

"Parachute," Sturmhond repeated. "Pull this line here, and the sack will open, releasing the canvas that will open up like a sail, gliding us safely to the ground," he explained. "Or ocean, as this case may be."

Tamar looked at him doubtfully but didn't try to argue with him. All they could do was sit back and watch as their reckless friend tried to defy the laws of gravity.

Sturmhond released the docking clamps of the small vessel and pulled a lever that brought the vertical sail up and down into a horizontal position. Peter then summoned the wind to fill the sail, lifting the ship up into the air. It rose higher and higher, veering off into the sky.

Tolya arched a brow, impressed. "Well I'll be," he remarked.

The ship tipped to the side abruptly, then juddered.

"You had to jinx it," Tamar muttered.

The two of them and the rest of the crew rushed to the side of the ship to watch with bated breath as the sky ship struggled to maintain its course. Then it lurched sharply, throwing its two passengers overboard. Tolya held his breath as the figures fell, but then those chutes were being deployed, and the canvas expanded into inflated domes, slowing their descent. Tolya released the air he'd been holding. He had to give their captain credit; the man was an inventive genius.

But then the plummeting sky ship veered too close to one of the figures, and the rudder caught the chute, popping it like a balloon and dragging it and the attached person down toward the sea. The resounding crash into the water jolted everyone into action.

"Man overboard!" Tolya bellowed, waving for the crew to turn the Volkvolny toward the wreckage. They couldn't see from this distance who had been caught, but the other chute was still gliding safely down toward the water. The figure made a splash landing, and the chute sailed overhead several feet, still carried by the wind, so at least the person wouldn't get drowned beneath it.

Once the Volkvolny was close enough, Tolya handed Tamar his sword and went leaping over the side into the sea. He swam to the person treading water first and realized it was Peter. There was no sign of Sturmhond, meaning he hadn't surfaced.

"I'm fine, go!" the Squaller yelled.

Tolya twisted around and dove, swimming toward the sinking ship. He spotted Sturmhond still strapped to his chute, which was tangled on the rudder. The captain was struggling to unbuckle himself, his hands fumbling at the buckles. Tolya still had a knife on him and pulled it out to simply cut through the straps. He then pulled Sturmhond free and kicked his way to the surface. They both broke through with large gasps. Sturmhond's head lolled dazedly, and so Tolya pulled him back against his chest and leaned back to float while they waited for retrieval.

A Tidemaker brought up a swell of ocean, carrying the both of them up so they were within arm's reach to be pulled onto the deck. Peter was already there, sopping wet and apologizing profusely.

"It's not your fault," Tamar told him. "This whole thing was a disaster in the making."

Sturmhond coughed up some seawater, and Tolya thumped him on the back to help expel it.

Tamar knelt down in front of them and moved her hands over the captain, checking him over. There was a fresh trickle of blood coming from under his hairline.

"I'm- fine," Sturmhond said breathlessly.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Tamar asked, raising her hand in front of his face.

He squinted at her for a beat too long, and she scowled as she started pulling him to his feet.

Tolya quickly helped, supporting Sturmhond's weight as they escorted him to his cabin. Inside, Tamar immediately went to fish out a change of clothes while Tolya began divesting their captain of his soaked ones. Sturmhond swayed precariously and reached a hand up to hold his head.

"Concussion," Tolya told him.

"Yes, thank you, I was able to deduce that."

"Now will you give up this ridiculous pursuit and keep your feet on the ground where they belong?" Tamar asked, bringing over some dry clothes.

He scoffed. "Didn't you see how far we got? We were actually sailing!"

"Until you crashed. And your parachute almost drowned you."

Sturmhond waved a dismissive hand. "I need to run more calculations, and adjust the distance necessary for pulling the chute so that unfortunate tangle doesn't happen again." He jerked his head up. "Is Peter okay? I thought I saw he was okay…"

"He's fine," Tolya assured him.

"Good."

"See if he'll go up with you again," Tamar muttered.

Sturmhond grinned in that boyish way of his. "Why wouldn't he? We're pioneers!"

Tolya and Tamar just shook their heads in fond exasperation with their friend. Sometimes they wondered if Sturmhond didn't remember this was only meant to be a temporary course for his life and that Nikolai Lantsov had an entire country's future in his long-term plans. Which he couldn't help if he got himself killed pursuing flights of fancy.

But then again, everything he set his mind to, he pulled off eventually. Maybe they should have some faith.

And invest in some other kinds of safety nets.