Up the airy mountain

Down the rushy glen

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men…

-William Allingham, The Fairies


"Not another one," Dre muttered, drawing her feet up onto the bunk with deliberate slowness, her weariness visible in every movement. It was as if the very act of lifting her legs had sapped the last of her energy.

Nathan ignored her. He knelt beside the uniformed man who had just been unceremoniously thrown into their cell. The young man's face was pale, and his eyes flicked around the room, wide with confusion and fear. Too young, Nathan thought grimly. When the man's gaze finally settled on Nathan, he seemed to shrink into himself.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Easy, son." Nathan guided him into a sitting position, scanning for injuries. The ensign—barely more than a boy—was in shock, but physically unharmed. "You're alright. Are you hurt?"

The ensign shook his head, his voice trembling. "No, sir. I'm okay."

Nathan's tone softened. "What happened?"

The ensign's breath quickened as he recounted the events. "They left, sir. The boarding party from seaQuest—they've gone back. Left me behind as... insurance, they said."

Dre let out a tired scoff from her corner. "Can someone explain what in the hell is going on? And who is this?"

Nathan cut her off sharply. "This is Ensign Fry, part of the launch party sent to rescue you."

Dre leaned back against the cold wall, a mirthless chuckle escaping her. "Rescue me? Some rescue. They're gone, we're stuck, and this is the best they could manage?"

Nathan's voice hardened. "Enough, Andrea. Insult my crew again, and you'll find out just how much patience I have left."

Dre met his gaze, her usual sharp retort stifled, before giving the ensign a brief nod. "Apologies."

Turning back to Fry, Nathan asked, "Is anyone else from the launch party still aboard?"

Fry nodded shakily. "Yes, sir. Commander Ford... I think he's still trying to get us out."

Dre's voice murmured sarcastically from the shadows. "Ford always finds a way."


Aboard seaQuest, the firefight in the launch bay had subsided, but Chief Crocker couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease. Casero's crew had launched their attack without pretense, and the security team had barely managed to hold the line. The fallen attackers were now scattered across the floor, unconscious, while seaQuest's team stood victorious, though bruised and battered.

Despite their success, Crocker knew better. This wasn't a clean victory. Casero hadn't fought like a man desperate to win. There had been something unsettling in his indifference to the outcome, as if this skirmish was merely a sideshow.

Commander Ford had Casero at gunpoint, his voice firm and unyielding. "It's over. Whatever you were planning, it's failed."

Casero's lips curled into a lazy smile. "Oh, Commander, you misunderstand me. I never planned to win."

Ford's eyes narrowed. "Crocker, report to the bridge. Tell Hitchcock we need to meet in the wardroom. We need answers."

"Aye, Commander," Crocker said, eyeing Casero with wary suspicion as he left. Something wasn't right. Never trust a man who smiles in defeat.


Noyce's face turned red with frustration as Casero, handcuffed and disarmingly casual, was brought into the wardroom. His voice cracked like a whip. "I asked you to deliver a ransom, not bring him aboard!"

Commander Ford stood rigid, the tension in his frame palpable. "With all due respect, sir, you don't have the full picture."

"I don't need the full picture!" Noyce snapped. "Do you understand how much this complicates everything? This isn't—"

"Sir, if you'll just listen—"

"I don't want to hear it!"

Hitchcock stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "Maybe Casero doesn't need to be here for this conversation."

Ford nodded, taking the cue. "Good call, Katie. Escort him out and bring Crocker with you."

As Casero was led out, Noyce turned back to Ford, his voice low and dangerous. "Start talking, Commander. What happened?"

Ford's face remained impassive. "Captain Bridger led a team aboard the Amazonian flagship to negotiate the ransom. We were ambushed. Casero's forces took us prisoner."

"And where is Nathan now?"

"He's still aboard their ship, sir. Casero double-crossed us. We had no choice but to bring him in."

Noyce's eyes widened as the implications sank in. His voice became an urgent whisper. "Bring Casero back."

Casero returned, still exuding the same smug nonchalance. Noyce wasted no time. "You've got your ransom. Why are you still holding Bridger?"

Casero shrugged, his grin widening. "Because I now control seaQuest, Mr. Secretary. If I don't check in with my flagship in…" he glanced at the clock, "thirteen minutes, they'll fire on your ship."

Noyce's face blanched. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Casero's gaze glittered with malicious amusement. "We've already proven what we're willing to do to those who trespass in our waters. Do you really think seaQuest will be spared?"

Noyce's voice shook. "What do you want?"

Casero's eyes gleamed with victory. "No interference. No taxes. And I want your government to leave us alone—for good."

Noyce stared at the man before him, trapped between impossible choices.


Casero stepped onto the bridge of the seaQuest like a man who had already won. His boots echoed sharply on the metallic floor, the subtle hum of the ship vibrating beneath his feet as if acknowledging his presence. His gaze swept across the bridge crew—stiff, wary, unsure of what to expect from their uninvited guest. It was fear, he could see it in their eyes, hiding beneath their attempts to appear focused, professional. Good. Fear was a powerful tool.

He strolled past them, his coat trailing behind, barely acknowledging their presence. This ship, once a symbol of UEO strength, was now his leverage. And leverage—control—was everything.

At the captain's chair, Hitchcock's eyes darkened, her hands twitching slightly. "You have no right to seize control of this vessel," she said, voice calm but threaded with an undertone of defiance. "This ship belongs to the UEO. You're here under false pretenses."

Casero chuckled, stepping closer, savoring the discomfort in the room. "False pretenses? You misunderstand, Commander. I'm here because your precious UEO has been operating under delusions of control for too long. The world is changing, and they're too weak to face it."

He took another step toward Hitchcock, lowering his voice just enough to make the room feel smaller, more dangerous. "Do you really think the UEO can hold its trade agreements together when global resources are on the verge of collapse? These treaties are nothing but handshakes with ghosts. The corporations—the ones really running the world—they're preparing for survival. And the UEO isn't part of their plans."

Hitchcock met his gaze, but Casero saw the flicker of uncertainty. She had been briefed, of course, on Casero's role in the broader economic shifts—the ones happening behind closed doors, far from the public eye. But none of these officers truly understood the depth of it. That's why Casero was here.

"You're trying to dismantle everything the UEO has built," Hitchcock said, her voice tightening with anger. "You think throwing the world into chaos will help anyone?"

Casero's smile widened, though there was no warmth behind it. "I'm not interested in chaos, Commander. I'm interested in control. Control over the future when the oceans dry up and the supply lines break. Your treaties, your rules—these are the shackles keeping us all chained to a sinking ship."

He paused, letting the words sink in. He wanted them to feel the weight of what was happening, to know they were standing on the edge of something they couldn't hope to stop. "Now," he continued, his tone sharpening. "I'll be taking command of this vessel. You'll set a course for the UEO headquarters, and I'll handle the rest. Cooperate, and no one has to get hurt."

The crew shifted uneasily. Hitchcock stood firm, but Casero could see the doubt working its way into her resolve. Casero's reputation preceded him—he was no mere negotiator. He was a man who played on the fringes of legality, moving resources, shaping markets, and manipulating governments to achieve his goals. The UEO had no real power against men like him, not when push came to shove.

"Commander," Casero said softly, stepping even closer, his voice carrying a dangerous weight. "Let me make this clear—if you refuse to cooperate, I will have no choice but to ensure compliance by any means necessary. And believe me, I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

Hitchcock clenched her jaw, but she didn't move. Casero could see the calculation in her eyes—the realization that this was no longer a standoff they could win with principles alone. He had the upper hand, and they knew it. The silence in the room was thick, every crew member bracing for what came next.

Before Hitchcock could respond, Casero's comm link crackled to life. He pulled it from his jacket and flicked it on with a swift, confident motion. A voice filled the room—his second-in-command from the ship hovering above seaQuest.

"Sir, the targeting systems are online. Shall we proceed?"

Casero's smile grew sharper. Perfect timing. He turned the comm toward Hitchcock, letting the threat hang in the air. "Hold position," he ordered, not breaking eye contact with Ford. "We'll proceed when I give the signal. For now, standby."

He clicked the comm off and slid it back into his pocket, the movement smooth, controlled. His eyes never left Hitchcock, and for a moment, the room felt like it had stopped breathing.

Hitchcock spoke, her voice low but unwavering. "You think we're afraid of your threats?"

Casero tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "I don't expect fear, Commander. I expect practicality. You have a choice—cooperate, and we avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Resist, and you'll watch your ship burn before you can blink."

The silence thickened again, every eye on Hitchcock, waiting for her next move. Casero knew he'd given them just enough to hesitate. To make them think twice. He always did.

This was his moment.

Nathan Bridger was incapacitated, their leader out of commission. The seaQuest was his to command now.

In Casero's mind, it was only a matter of time before everyone realized it.


In the dim cell, Nathan pressed his ear to the door. A small smile played on his lips. "The lock's disengaged."

Dre sat up. "What?"

He nudged the door, which slid open with a soft hiss. The corridor beyond was empty, dimly lit by flickering lights.

Nathan's grin widened as he motioned for Dre and Fry to follow. "We're getting out of here."