The night passed quietly upon the Little Jack although the occasional sound of drunken debauchery or street brawling slinked down to the docks. Vyse woke twice in the night thanks to these small outbursts but far from being annoyed, it brought a grin to his face each time. He'd shift a little in his ratty hammock outside the engine room and think of a better future. One where he wasn't rushing into Valua on a near-suicide mission but instead where he was docked at Sailor's Island on his own ship. He had to believe in that possibility, In a future where everything worked out. It was how he kept moving forward.

Those thoughts had shifted into surprisingly pleasant dreams. Visions of that future. He was older but not so old as his father, and his ship was the spitting image of the Albatross. Aika was there at his side; her grin was wide but her brown eyes held a little more worldliness. Shrewd like a cat and just as eager to pounce upon whatever adventure came their way. That wasn't a surprise. It was a future he'd dreamt of before. What did catch him off guard, even in the world of dreams, was the other figure at his side: Fina.

The blonde woman still wore white but her clothing was Meridian in fashion. She was still the kind and graceful woman he knew but there was the smallest hint of abandon to her features that made her all the more natural a companion to Vyse and Aika. The three of them were sailing through the clearest sky he'd ever seen. It felt so natural and so comfortable that the more they glided through the blue, the more it hurt to experience. It took a moment for Vyse to understand, enraptured by his dream as he was, that what he felt was longing.

From time to time, his dreams would paint the most fantastical pictures: a cave of treasure fresh for the taking, a fleet for him to command. None of those things had ever felt like this. Of all the futures that he'd dreamt up, this simple image—three brave souls and an open sky—was the most intoxicating. He found himself caught between the comfort of his dream and a pull back to the real world. He might've stayed longer if not for a realization: the sooner he woke up, the sooner he could make this dream a reality.

Of course, it helped that someone was pulling him back to his senses.

"Vyse," a voice called. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw Aika's gaze resting upon him. "Time to wake up. We'll be shipping out soon."

The young man nodded, twisting in his hammock until he slipped to the side and fell to his feet. He immediately began to put his boots on.

"Escort duty," he said with a bit of a smirk. "With maybe a little trouble on the side."

"Sorry," Aika murmured. It made Vyse pause and cast a look to his friend.

"Nothing to apologize for," he said. "We gotta do this if we want to get into Valua."

Aika shifted a bit in place. She flicked her fingers bashfully. "I meant sorry for waking you up."

Vyse stood up, boots firmly in place. He reached into a pocket and produced his goggle, fixing it upon his face with a light snap.

"You're sorry for waking me up?" Vyse's tone hovered between confusion and warm amusement.

"You looked comfortable," the redhead explained. "Off on a grand adventure in dreamland, were you?"

Vyse reached out and gave Aika a playfully light flick to the forehead. "Something like that," he admitted. "You see, I had my own ship an-"

"Boy! Lass! Haul yer damn keisters up here and step lively," Drachma's gravelly voice hollered from above. "We're makin' ready for Nasrad!"

Vyse nodded toward the stairs and the pair quickly scampered up to the bridge where Drachma was waiting. His stern eye snapped between the two before he gave a groaning sigh and beckoned them over. It took a moment before Vyse realized that the captain wasn't the only man on the bridge. To his side, Bader leaned over a map which was draped upon the Little Jack's forward console. He peeped up and inclined his head towards the young rogues.

"As-salamu alaykum," the old man greeted. Vyse half bowed back at the man. Aika smiled.

"Wa ʿalaykumu s-salām," the redhead replied. She carried enough memories of her father and his friends that the words flowed easily. "Figured you'd be preparing on your own ship."

Bader shook his head. "No, no. I think it is better that we go over the particulars together "

"Iff'n there's risk of Black Pirates, s'best we agree on o'course fer action," Drachma agreed. "Now, fix yer eyes on the map as we suss out the plan."

The pair walked over to look at the map. Bader's calloused fingers rested on Sailor's Island in the northern parts of Mid Ocean. It was the largest of the Meridian landmasses and a wide expanse separated it from the Valuan continent to the north. The old man began to trace a path up the map that eventually shifted towards the east. It flew through the fringes of Mid Ocean until it ran against a stone rift far too dangerous for even the Little Jack to press through. Definitely too much for Bader's merchant ship.

Bader's finger continued sliding towards Nasr airspace. "There is but one path home from Meridia," he outlined. "These two ridges come together and form the Southern Dannel Strait. Nothing but the heartiest of warships can press through the nearby stone rifts, so all commerce and travel must come through here."

Vyse examined the map and looked at the small channel. It was a funnel that opened up into a brief stretch of sky. The capital city of Nasrad couldn't have been more than a league from the entrance.

"The perfect spot for a Black Pirate to attack," he said. "Guaranteed to have fresh prey."

Aika tapped a finger upon her cheek in thought. "Why doesn't the Nasrad Navy do anything about it?"

Drachma huffed. "S'too big a risk," he noted.

"Just so," Bader said. "Valua is easily agitated and movement south could be... misinterpreted."

"Kind way 'o sayin' them Valuans might angle into 'nother war," Drachma explained. "Seein' as their last scuffle with Nasr were a buncha manufactured bilge."

Bader nodded and the weight of old memories fell on his shoulders. "Our Navy maintains a border watch more than anything else," the old man added. "Which my vessel will press towards should we run into troubles."

"Leaving us to run interference until you're safe," Vyse said with a nod. "That's easy enough."

"You say that about everything," Aika teased. "Valuans? Dread pirates? Easy enough!"

"The confidence is most reassuring," Bader said. He rolled up his map and took a step away from the group. "If we are fortunate there will be no trouble, but if so? It seems I have found hearty allies."

The comment elicited a forceful snuffing from Drachma. "We ain't doin' all fer kindness," he reminded the merchant. "This be business. Yer safety fer tha passport."

Bader bowed respectfully. "You'll have that and more," he intoned. "For in helping me, you will have made a friend for life."

"What little of ours remains," Drachma grunted. "We old-timers only got so much left."

The Nasrean shrugged. "All the more reason to live charitably," he said. "Now! I shall make for my vessel. It will not take more than a half-day to reach home."

Vyse nodded. "You'll be back beneath the Red Moon before you know it."

Bader paused and offered one last look at the young man. He smiled serenely.

"With bold souls such as yourself at my side? I do not doubt it."

The Little Jack sailed close to Bader's merchant ship, the Drajik, and pressed through the northernmost portions of the Mid Ocean with ease. The trip had been noteworthy only for how little noteworthy any of it was. The Drajik was a rickety old dhow with a sizable hold and clearly aging engine which occasionally sputtered stobbornly. Reliable enough for a trader but easy pickings for anyone that might bother. It was easy to see why Bader felt the need to enlist an escort. The Little Jack was forced to reduce speed lest she completely outpace her companion. It was much to Aika's dismay when Drachma gave the order to cut the engines to the barest of moonstone burns and ride out the journey at only a moderate clip.

The first real sign of progress was a slowly mounting heat. It started subtly but as the hours pressed on, an undeniable swelter began to sizzle throughout the Little Jack. The sky took on the slightest touch of red shortly after. The Red Moon itself was not in sight but the glow was hard to ignore; it was as if the beams of a smaller, far more distant sun were mingling with the daylight.

Vyse cast a sideways glance to Drachma, sweat rolling down his forehead, and the old man gave a quick nod before taking the ship's wheel. The rogue quickly stepped away to pull off his blue sailing shirt and red scarf, stripping down to his undershirt and rolling up his sleeves before making his way back to the wheel.

"I guess the stories about Nasrean heat are true after all," the young man said.

Drachma brought a hand up to wipe a bead of sweat from his own brow. "This ain't the half of it, boy," he explained. "Out in them far-stretched deserts… where sand flows far as the eye ken see.. them beams flop down hot 'nuff to boil a man's brains like burgoo."

There was a clamor as Aika flopped up the stairs. "Dad used to tell stories about it," she added. "He said that Nasr deserts are so hot, if you walk around in the sun for too long, your hair catches on fire!"

Vyse rolled his eyes although he hid the gesture from Aika. "You ever consider that your old man was spinning tall tales for a kid?"

Aika shook her head. "It's true," she said. "Everyone carries buckets of water around with them, so they can put their friends' hair out."

"You really believe that?" Vyse chuckled before continuing. "Red Moon or not, that's a bit much."

"Don't come crying to me when your head bursts into flames," Aika muttered.

"Quit yer damn flappin'," Drachma arked at the pair. Up ahead, sheer rock walls were forming on islands floating to their sides. "We're close. Time's about we should keep our heads on tha swivel."

Vyse leaned forward and brought a hand up to his goggle. With a swift flick, he began to zoom in on the horizon.

"No need for swiveling, Captain," he said as his vision zoomed further ahead.

A black-sailed ship approached in the distance. Through his goggle, Vyse could see its armored hull—a mixture of dark lumber with reliable, yellow moonstone-studded iron coverings—and rows of cannons. Eight to either side. The stern of the ship bore small fins similar to the Little Jack's while the keel was marked by conspicuous spikes. They were most likely for ramming and scraping a target. The port side bore an ostentatious golden ornament of a skull; the ships anchor dangled slightly from its open mouth. A sable flag fluttered high on the mainmast: a skull with a scar mark down the front and a bushy beard with upturned mustache.

"Looks like we're in for mischief after all," Vyse said with a confident smirk.

"Aye," Drachma agreed with just a hint of excitement in his voice. "We best batten down smartly. 'Cause if this bastard thinks he's got an easy catch, he'll find there's a damn gutty devil to pay."

Baltor stood tall upon the Blackbeard's stern deck and gazed out upon the skies before him. They weren't Meridian skies or Nasrean skies; these were his skies. The territory before the Southern Dannel Straight had shifted from neutral territory into his own personal playground. It had proven quite the amusement. The Valuan Armada rarely scouted south of the mainland and cared for little but their own vague ends. When one of their vessels edged into Baltor's dominion, it was little more than a Tsirat-class patrol ship. The Blackbeard dealt with them swiftly, pillaging whatever spare weapons that the Valuans were foolish enough to arm their vessels with. Meanwhile, the Nasr Navy was content to huddle down like a tortigar and do little more than shore up their borders. A more patriotic man would scoff knowing his home nation had opted for cowardice but Baltor relished in their weakness.

This state of affairs was all the better for him. Those senseless enough to run their goods through the area were waylaid swiftly; those foolish enough to resist were given no quarter. These were Black Pirate skies and given enough time, he might carve out more and more for himself. What started with the Blackbeard would grow into a fleet and then into an empire unto itself. The only rule would be that there were no rules. Black Pirates took what they wanted whenever they wanted. His might would unite the unruly into a confederation of debauchery and pillage unlike the world had known and it would start here.

They'll mark my legend by the sea of broken ships and bloody corpses left in my wake.

The thought brought a wicked grin to his face. His yellowed teeth peered from beneath an enormous black beard and he managed to stand even taller. The wind blew, fluttering his faded green coat which was draped over his shoulders like a cape. He was the ideal image of a Black Pirate. Built like a tree trunk and unkempt as a crylhound. A large scar cut down across this face as a testament to his ferocity. The look suited his needs perfectly. Why fuss and fret over your looks when there was grog to guzzle and throats to slit?

"Captain!" A gangly pirate shuffled to his side unctuously. "There's a Nasr merchant ship coming into view off port-side."

The dread pirate barked with delight. "A fine meal," he said greedily. "Have the men make ready to board!"

His subordinate raised his hand unexpectedly. "There's something else, sir…"

"Speak, you limp-necked ninny! What's the snag?"

The man gave a jerking bow as if to apologize for his spinelessness. "There's a strange ship following it very closely... I don't recognize its markings."

Baltor rifled through his coat pocket and pulled out a small telescope. He raised it to his eye and angled himself to look towards his prospective prey. The Nasrean ship looked common enough. A fair size that indicated a hold full of goods. It didn't matter to him whether those were fruits, antiquities, guns, or anything in-between; he would take anything and everything. Running aside the ship was a small fishing vessel. It had a few cannons, which meant it wasn't entirely helpless, but the hull bore bits of rust and its size paled in comparison to the Blackbeard. An annoyance perhaps, but hardly anything that could deal with a burgeoning pirate lord like him. A prompt broadside would send the fishing ship tumbling to the Deep Sky if need be. He laughed raucously at the sight.

"Gahahahahaha! There's nothing to fear from that dingy old jellyfish."

Baltor pocketed the telescope and stepped forward to call out to his men down on the middeck. For added effect, he drew a murky red moonstone hanger from his side and held it aloft. By happenstance, the sun managed to glint off the blade and catch his crews' attention before he spoke. Baltor was not the smartest of captains or even the most vicious of Black Pirates yet—although he was working on both those things—but he did have a flair for the dramatic. Often that was good enough, he'd discovered. Piracy was part murder, part theater. If you looked the part and played the part, folks generally assumed you knew what you were doing. It helped that he'd managed to do more than alright for himself so far.

"Alright, lads!" His baritone boomed across the decks. "Let's introduce these fools to the true meaning of fear! If they resist, raise the reds! They'll know that I, Baltor, sent them plummeting to their deaths!"

The crew gave a roar and began to rush and criss-cross about the deck. Cannons were loaded, weapons gathered, and the scent of blood filled the air. Baltor smirked.

"They'll make for the border," Baltor said confidently. "Don't let them escape! And after? Take everything on board that isn't nailed down!"

"Right then, step lively!"

Drachma hollered the command towards his two tagalong "crewmates" and watched as the pair slipped into action. Vyse, ever intuitive and ready to toss himself into danger, began to turn the Little Jack towards the incoming Black Pirate ship. Drachma stomped over to a secondary console.

"Boy, I'mma trust ye with maneuvers," he called over his shoulder. "Ain't no one here what knows the Jack's guns like me. We peel 'ta position 'an I'll lay the shot down."

"From there?" Vyse was somewhat surprised that the old man could handle it from one aging console.

"How'dya think I chase Rhaknam? All of the cannon're linked on a yellow circuit," he explained. "Sure, ye ken fire 'em at their sides but I ken blast any 'an all from here."

Aika began to rush towards the deck. "I'll signal Bader," she said. "Make sure he knows to gun it for Nasr!"

The redhead rushed through the doorway and onto the Little Jack's middeck, turning for a moment to look at the encroaching enemy vessel and watched it grow larger and larger as it approached. She ran to the starboard side of the ship and spotted the Drajik. Reaching into her pouch, she brought her red moonstone to bear and tossed a pyri spell into the air as a sort of makeshift flare. One flash and then a second—An agreed upon signal to tell the old man and his crew to press onwards. She saw Bader shuffle to the deck and crackle his own spell in reply. The merchant nodded his head in thanks, or perhaps it was a prayer for his defender's safety, and returned towards the Drajik's interior. The dhow proceeded further down the strait, pace increasing as it pressed towards safety.

Aika ran back into the bridge. "He's off," she said. "I caught the flag out there. Bearded skull like we thought."

Drachma growled. "Baltor," he intoned. "Lass, I need'ja down in the engine room. Save the reds fer emergency maneuvers. Blast us on blues until then!"

"I'll pop the second exhaust valve while I'm at it," Aika said as she rushed down the stairs. "In case we really need to push her."

She spared a look at Vyse. "Let's give 'im hell!"

Vyse laughed. "As if there's anything else to give!"

Aika offered a brisk salute and made way for the engine room. To Vyse's side, Drachma began to calibrate the cannons. They gave a whirring shift as each came to life with a small spark of yellow moonstone energy. The old man gave a satisfied hum before looking towards Vyse.

"We're outnumbered fiercely," he told Vyse. "So we cannae let 'em get close 'ta board. Watch yer distance so as we're never in hook range. We'll fight it at long."

Vyse nodded. "Aye," he confirmed. "I'll angle you for a shot and then shift in case of reply."

"Full broadside from a ship like that'll eat us," Drachma noted. "But we're darty fast so we'll chip 'im shot fer shot."

There was a loud boom in the distance. A whistling screech burst through the sky, high pitch falling lower until a blast rocked the Little Jack. The ship shook as it narrowly avoided a fresh shrapnel shot from the Blackbeard. Vyse and Drachma braced upon the bridge and peered towards the approaching galleon.

"Report," Drachma called into a speaking tube. There was a clattering of noise before Aika's voice replied.

"Singed but fine," she said. "Engine's rattling but we're churning blues at a steady pace. You okay?"

"Fine," Drachma replied. "Start feedin' them reds. If the bastard's eager, let's give 'im a blast back."

Vyse nodded. The Little Jack began to dart towards Baltor's ship as the engines picked up pace.

"I'll get you within range for a volley," the young rogue relayed. "After the mark, we're gonna rise to avoid whatever he sends back." He raised his voice. "Hear that, Aika? We'll need a kick after our broadside!"

"Got it, got it!"

Vyse took a breath and pressed the throttle up. He looked to Drachma. "You trust me?"

"Not at all," the old man replied with a bark that might have been laughter. "But I also ain't scared of dyin' so let's be on with this shite."

The Little Jack continued to streak towards the Blackbeard, its fins pumping at an increased pace. The ship crossed a low cloud and rode the edge. A streak of white followed in her wake. In his heart, Vyse felt a mixture of excitement and fear unlike anything he'd experienced before. So this was what it was like to be at the wheel in a fight; this was what it meant to hold a ship and her crew in your hands. There wasn't a Moons' damned chance he was going to let this be the last time. This would be the first of many battles. He knew it in his gut. Which is why his fear burned hot until the edges melted away and all that was left was pure determination.

If this blackguard wants trouble, I'm gonna give him more than he's ever seen.

The green-armored fishing vessel rushed beside the fierce galleon. Vyse waited a moment. Not yet, not yet. Not until all three starboard cannons were along her enemy's side. It took only a few seconds before they were aligned.

"Now!" The young rogue gave the order with starling confidence. "Fire!"

Drachma slammed a button on his console and a jolt of yellow moonstone magick flashed the cannons. All three fired at once with a mighty kick that Vyse compensated for by shifting his weight against the wheel. There was a snapping sound like a mighty bone had cracked in the sky. Drachma peered towards their target and saw wood splintering into the air.

"We got 'er, boy!"

Vyse called louder. "Aika, give her a kick!"

"Heeeere we go!"

Vyse pressed a nearby lever upwards. The Little Jack rushed higher with only moments to spare as the Blackbeard's fiery reply came rushing in. A full broadside blast that the stalwart fishing vessel avoided by mere feet. The wind beneath them whistled again as the ship rose upwards. Baltor had missed.

Vyse exhaled raggedly. Drachma did likewise.

"Pushin' yer luck with a near miss like that, ya dafter."

"Okay... " He felt that strange pump of adrenaline that only came with narrowly avoiding death. "If Baltor wants to dance, he's gonna need to do better than that."

Aboard the Blackbeard, Baltor gave a bellow worthy of an arcwhale. He'd endured a cannon shot here or there but that had been against Valuan patrols or would-be Black Pirate rivals. When he'd set his sights on that tiny merchant and their rusty green escort, it had seemed like easy pickings. When the fishing ship peeled off on an intercept course, the bellicose captain and his crew had laughed. Their warning volley hadn't been enough to scare the 'heroes' off but there was little to fear from such a ramshackle and beaten-down ship. Or so he thought. Whatever cannons that damn thing packed were damn near top of the line.

That also might've been fine. The Blackbeard was armored enough to endure a broadside from three cannons even if they were admittedly mighty. His own blast would surely smack that annoying fly out of the sky. Except it hadn't. Instead, the devilish little thing had soared away and his crew was in disarray trying to patch torn up hull segments and quell angry embers aboard his ship. The whole damn thing was backwards. So he roared and huffed up a storm.

"Those arrogant, no good, dirty shit-heels!" He stamped his foot angrily before finding some measure of composure. "That old ship's tough. I'll give her that much."

The Black Pirate craned his head to watch as the fishing ship continued to climb up towards the high cloud layer. A grin cut across his face. If they wanted to play it like that, he had the perfect answer: a fresh gift stolen from a Valuan patrol.

Brimming with anger but certain of his coming victory, Baltor called out a fresh order.

"Fire torpedoes, lads!"

The Little Jack leveled out above the Blackbeard and everyone aboard breathed a collective sigh. Baltor hadn't given chase. That allowed a welcome moment to reassess the situation and figure out what their next move would be. It was a strange thing to find quiet in the middle of a battle.

"We can't risk another move like that," Vyse mused aloud. "We need to find a way to end this fast."

Drachma grunted in agreement. "The Jack's a fast blighter but a stray move'll knock us into Hell," he said before calling into the speaking tube. "How's the scuff down there, lass?"

Aika's voice reverberated back. "She's running real hot," she replied. "At this rate we'll burn through more moonstones than you'd probably like."

"There's a scant stock of purples down there," Drachma called. "Rare things but they'll help cool 'er down some."

"Aye, captain."

Vyse took another breath as he listened to the conversation. Slowly, an idea was forming in his head.

"That's gotta be it.."

Drachma raised an eyebrow. "Wassat, boy?"

"If we can't risk broadsides, we need to pick a different target," Vyse said. "His armor is thickest on the sides anyway so if we circle to the rear, we might be able to catch his engine. A clean shot could send him running."

"Ain't the worst notion" Drachma offered. "No cannons to guss our hides with 'an we got the firepower."

"We'll ride out far and pull her about," Vyse concluded. "Run to her back and cross the T."

Drachma nodded but voiced some doubt. "Ain't exactly an uncommon tactic."

"Pretty damn common enemy though," the young rogue thought aloud. "I doubt Baltor's read even a spit of a tactical manual in his life. He acts a feralisk but he's really a huskra. Which means all we have to do is..""

FWOOOSH!

A blistering object hissed through the air next to the Little Jack. It was quickly followed by another streaking something that zipped close enough to rock the ship. Vyse braced the wheel and righted. He cast a confused look around for the source of the attack. "He's not firing cannons up, is he? What the hell!"

Drachma grunted negatively. "Those ain't cannon shots," he noted. "Them be torpedoes."

Vyse's eyes went wide. "Aika heard about them in the port," he said. "How does Baltor have that kind of firepower?"

"Dun matter," Drachma hollered. "What matters is dodging 'em, ya loon! Cut that wheel lest they fall on our heads!"

Aika heard it all down in the engine room, popping up from under the engine's frame where she'd been depositing choice purple moonstones and rushing over to the speaking tube. "We're gonna need to do more than that," she called out. "Unless we lower altitude fast, the game's over."

The redhead began to look about the engine room even as she felt the Little Jack began to pitch downwards. A pit formed in her stomach. They weren't going fast enough and there was only one way she could think of how to fix that. She turned back to the voicepipe.

"Vyse, Captain! You gotta hold tight to something and do it now!"

Drachma's growling voice filtered back to her. "Lass, what're ya doin'?"

"Something really, really stupid! But it's gonna save our lives."

Aika wheeled about and rushed back to the engine. She took a deep breath and searched until she found what she was looking for: the emergency shutdown valve. She grabbed a nearby lever and jerked it downwards with a deperate yank. The engine immediately began to sputter until it stopped entirely. For a moment, there was silence and then she felt her stomach kick upwards as the Little Jack didn't simply begin to low altitude but instead began to fall out of the sky like a pistol-shot bird. Down, down, down...

Vyse's voice rattled through the voicepipe. "Aika! You gotta kick her back into gear or else we'll…"

"I know, I know," Aika called back. She was already making her way back to the engine with a fresh heap of red moonstones in her hand. She fed them quickly into its gullet and slammed on the ignition. It didn't give. The Little Jack was still falling and the torpedoes were certainly not far behind. Pinta had said that the way to best them was to dive low. This wasn't quite "diving" but it would have to do. All that was left was hope that the Little Jack was falling fast enough to outrun the ordinance as it fell downwards.

What couldn't have been more than five seconds felt like five years as the Little Jack plummeted further and further. The pit in Aika's stomach grew; she closed her eyes in fear. If she was wrong about this, they'd all be dead in moments.

C'mon. C'mon.

A thunderous clap rocked the sky as the Blackbeard's torpedoes detonated. Aika opened her eyes and found, to her absolute shock and delight, she was not dead. Was she still inside a falling ship with no engine power? Yes, but that meant her gamble had paid off. The Little Jack had fallen fast enough to avoid the torpedo was one problem solved but if left another. She rushed to feed another helping of red moonstones into the engine's receiver and began to pump the ignition lever over and over until the damned thing roared to life.

"She's back!"

That was all Vyse's needed to hear. Upon the bridge, he began to wheel the ship about until he was all but perpendicular with the Blackbeard. The galleon had pressed further towards the strait in hopes of snagging whatever prey it could and the Little Jack, through a mixture of luck and Aika's quick work, had found buoyancy on an almost equal altitude with their foe. He shook off his astonishment and pressed the ship's throttle to full, rushing on a burst of wind and engine power until the fishing vessel arced about on the Blackbeard's rear. It was as ridiculous as it was perfect.

"Captain! Fire!"

Drachma slammed his fist down on the console. "Take this, ya damned langer!"

The Little Jack kicked as its cannons belched fire and fury. The shots sailed forward and slammed into the Blackbeard's stern with a crash that kicked up the hull into splintery shards. There was a beat and then another explosion. A gout of fire rushed from the ship's freshly-wounded rear; they'd landed a direct hit on the engine. Almost immediately, the galleon began to list downwards and peel off away from the strait. The pirates were turning tail. The once-formidable ship bobbed away, leaving a trail of black smoke billowing behind it.

Hands planted upon the Little Jack's wheel, Vyse's eyes went wide as he watched his foe drift away.

"We did it…"

Chaos filled the Blackbeard's decks as crewmen rushed to haul powder and moonstones away from spreading flames and somehow manage to keep their hover engines from falling offline entirely. Not a soul aboard could believe what had happened; each and every pirate felt as if they'd been doused with a bucket of ice water. Even as they worked to keep the galleon afloat, there was a sense that they'd all fallen into some sort of dream. Half comedy, half nightmare. How else would you describe another ship literally falling from the upper sky layer into the perfect position to shatter your stern? It was amazing. It was terrifying. It was some true and utter bullshit.

Baltor kept his gaze fixed on the fishing ship that served him such a bitter defeat, face burning red with apoplexy. It was then that he finally recognized his foe. It was Cold Steel Drachma's ship. What had it been called? The Joey? The Jackdaw? No, that wasn't it. Little Jack! Aye, that was the name and yet the way she'd moved was nothing like he'd seen before. It was reckless and fresh, both amateur and bold. Even if that was Cold Steel's ship, someone else was behind the helm. He was sure of it.

"You were lucky this time," he muttered under his breath. "You damn dirty hellkite…"

A fresh explosion rocked the ship as a collection of moonstones burst below the deck. Baltor took cover before rising to watch as his ship, the anchor upon which he wanted to build a feckless empire, burned. Blood roiling, he rushed further down the deck and stood upon the capstan. His gaze remained locked on the Little Jack.

"Upon my damned soul, you'll rue the day you ever crossed paths with me!" he bellowed into the firmament. "I will hunt you down and have my revenge! In this life or the hereafter!"

Bader was true to his word and then some. Having fled safely into Nasr airspace, the old merchant ventured out from behind the border's defensive line and heartily welcomed his savior aboard the Drajik for a quick afternoon's lunch and an exchange of goods. The passport was modest enough—Vyse thought it funny that a small handful of papers were going to be such a crucial part of his rescue plan—but Bader was not content to simply offer a meal and the documents. Instead he'd managed a small gift for each member of the Little Jack''s crew. For Vyse, he offered a keen whetstone of fine Nasrean ore that was perfect for sharpening both metal and moonstone blades. Drachma received a canister of fine oil that the merchant insisted would be perfect for greasing the joints of his mechanical arm. Finally, Aika was given a somewhat revealing but nevertheless beautiful outfit. It was the least he could do, or so Bader said, to give the young woman something from the homeland.

They didn't linger too long however. Drachma grumbled that every passing moment was one away from Valua which technically meant another hour away from hunting Rhaknam. He'd left Vyse at the helm for the remainder of the journey towards Valuan space and retired to his private quarters to make the necessary forgerie and adjustments to Bader's passport. The story would be simple enough if anyone asked. They were a fisher vessel en route to Valua for repairs. It was close to the truth as long as no one mentioned that the crew was mostly Blue Rogues and the ship was being "repaired" with a large and possibly illegal harpoon cannon. Not that Drachma expected the Valuans to ask too many questions.

So it was that Vyse spent the final leg of the journey piloting the Little Jack and excitedly talking about the day's events with Aika. Without Drachma's watchful gaze, it almost felt like they had their own ship. For his part, Vyse couldn't quite understand why Drachma was helping them. Yes, they'd greased the axels with talks of a massive arcwhale-killing cannon but if that was the old man's only concern he might as well have left them on Sailor's Island and set sail for Valua by himself. Instead, he'd placed his trust in Vyse and even in Aika. It wasn't a small thing to let someone else helm your ship or poke about her engine.

It was a mystery for another time. As they reached the Valua border, Drachma stomped onto the bridge and took command. They drew upon a small patrol boat and presented their documentation. There were a few idle questions about "how the fish were biting" but little else. Drachma gave word to proceed further. The sky began to grow dark and the air grew hazy. A yellow glow beamed from above. A hint of the Yellow Moon's power seemed to buzz in the air as the Little Jack moved onwards.

"It's starting to feel a bit more real now," Aika said to Vyse. "We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

Vyse grinned. "You know it," he replied. "I'm surprised though. I thought getting into Valua would be tougher. When we make port, we'll need to.."

His statement was cut off as a blinding light flashed into the Little Jack's bridge. For a moment, Vyse wondered if the patrols had seen through their documents after all but then he saw what was really happening. The Little Jack pressed through the fog and revealed a sight unlike anything he could imagine. A massive gate had been built into the Valuan continent. It towered above passing patrols and other vessels, scanning the skies with an array of searchlights. Even the largest ships looks like flies fluttering next to the giant wall. Instinctively, Vyse leaned forward and marveled at the monstrosity. Aika gasped at his side.

"What the hell is that? It's huge!" Her voice shook with nerves.

Drachma plodded towards the forward window. "S'the Grand Fortress," he explained. "The only way into Valua. Seein' as most the continent is coated in impassable mountains what no ship can climb over."

Vyse scowled at the terrifying display. "I can't believe they built something that big."

"It's strong too," Drachma added. "During the war, Nasr forward fleet gathered near one hundred ships to bombard the damn thing but the walls held firm. May be that gate's the strongest thing in th'world."

The Grand Fortress began to rumble as the front slowly rotated outwards. It was enough to leave a gap for ships to enter and to reveal an array of cannons and flak guns on the inner portion of the gate.

"It's not just a gate, it is?" Aika asked the question with grim worry touching at her voice.

Drachma nodded. "Backside is lined with cannons," he said. "Them were nearly enough to wipe out all of Nasrean forces what tried to shell it. S'both an impassable wall and a damn death machine. 'An it only opens once a day, so ye best start guidin' us towards it, boy."

Vyse nodded. He pressed the Little Jack's throttle up slightly and began to direct the ship towards the entrance. "You make it sound like some invincible fortress," he said. "I don't believe it."

"Ain't no one ever escaped from the Grand Fortress," Drachma said with a scoff.

"And that's where they're probably keeping Fina and the others," Aika added.

Drachma stroked his beard. "Well, actually… I hear there's one way outta there."

Vyse looked at the old man with burning interest. "What's that?"

"After them Valuans execute folks, they toss the bodies right off the continent."

The comment elicited a chuckle from Vyse. Drachma gave the young man a bewildered look.

"I love a challenge," Vyse said confidently. "And the only reason no one's escaped is because I haven't tried yet. You'll see, captain. Nothing's gonna keep me from saving everyone.."

As the Little Jack sailed into the fortress, Vyse took a deep breath and steeled his mind for what was to come. It didn't matter if he had to blast the Grand Fortress down piece by piece. He'd bring everyone home.

Dad. Fina. I'm coming...