Stephan’s breast swelled with trepidation and regret.

What have I done? he asked himself. I’m no pirate. What sort of idiot simply stands up and pledges himself to so treacherous a life?

Him, evidently.

He was that fool.

Sighing, he hobbled on, using one crutch for support.

Yin ambled behind him, distracted by the sights of the city. She was his babysitter for the day. He wasn’t savvy enough to protect himself in Tumba at the best of times, and with his arm and leg still recovering, that danger breathed even closer upon his neck.

The med-patches had partially closed up his wounds, but the cheap, second-hand vivimancy in those bandages could only do so much. They had left the affected areas lumpy and agitated, ugly scars already forming which he would no doubt be stuck with for life. The muscles in his lower leg and forearm panged with pain whenever he moved them too much.

Stephan headed towards the edge of the square, painstakingly making his way around the dense crowds of passersby. Every once in a while, a car or delivery vehicle passed by and forced the pedestrians to part, but they were far between. The city’s winding streets had clearly not been designed with motor traffic in mind.

He reached the transceiver—a metal box attached to the wall of a public office which was spattered with crude graffiti. A bluish hardlight screen flickered on its surface, an analog number pad below. An earpiece dangled from the transceiver with all sorts of questionable gunk smeared on it. Thick cables ran from the box into the ground.

Stephan stuck a coin in the slot, pinned the crutch under his arm, and brought a note out of his pocket. Using the information Yin had gathered for him at a local dive, he punched in the directory number for the Commander’s Office in Redharbor.

Stephan cleaned the earpiece with an edge of his note and stuck it in his left ear. His fingers hovered over the green ‘DIAL’ button. He hesitated.

Am I sure about this? he thought. I could tell them… Well, I could tell them the truth, for one.

“Hurry up, will you?” Yin called. “I don’t want to stand here gawking at your dumb self all day.”

Stephan pressed the button before arriving at his conclusion.

There was a minute of static and warped echoes. Long enough for him to work up a cold sweat.

Then the static cut out, and there was a voice on the other end.

“You’ve reached Redharbor’s Concordian embassy, how may I help you?” a female voice said.

“Yes, hello,” Stephan said. “I would like you to deliver a message to a person on the mainland.”

“Certainly, sir. What is their name?”

“Maya Estelle Lordling.”

“And the message?”

Stephan took a deep breath.

This is it.

My last chance to back out.

“I am alive,” Stephan said. “And I’m leaving. You are entitled to my assets. Go in peace, and…” He bit his lip. “And fuck you. There was never any love between us, and we both know it. Don’t pretend to mourn my leaving, for your own dignity’s sake.”

“Um,” the woman said. “Are you sure you want to include that last part?”

Stephan nodded to himself, running his tongue over his bottom teeth. “Every word.”

He hung up.

And he was happy.

Ecstatic.

A shiver of relief went through him, from the tips of his toes to the back of his neck.

I’m free. Free from all the shackles I put upon myself.

He spun to face Yin with a winning smile.

Except she wasn’t there. She perused a nearby market stall for baubles and jewelry, eyes wide with wonder as she scanned over the cheap metalwork.

Stephan limped over there on his crutch.

Someone bumped into him and he fell hard. He caught himself with both arms, and a sharp stab went up his left. His lips parted in a silent scream, and he rolled onto his back as he clutched his injured arm.

“Oh ho, sorry, didn’t see you there lad,” a man said with a jovial chuckle. He offered out a scarred, leathery hand.

Stephan took it. Painstakingly, and with gritted teeth, he was able to stand back up with the help of the old man.

He was short and stocky, with light brown, tanned skin and short-cropped black hair. He wore a full beard, and he smiled a toothy grin. He wore a patchwork of an outfit—a blue Concordian officer’s coat over a seasilk shirt that glittered like fish scales, dark, roomy pants that had no doubt belonged to an Ashlander, one pistol on each hip in mismatched holsters, and supple boots that looked well-worn but designer, likely from a Commonwealth fashion house.

That and the scars on his hands and arms marked him as a pirate. A veteran one, too, judging by the sheer number of old wounds he bore witness to.

The man had a clunky biomech leg which whirred with moving parts as he shifted his weight and shot steam out the side.

“Thank you,” Stephan said once the pain quieted.

“Nonsense,” said the man with a wave of his hand. “I’m the one knocked you over in the first place.” His grin remained and his eyes creased with mirth. Then, suddenly, they widened with recognition. “Say, lad, you don’t happen to be called Stephan Lordling, do you?”

Stephan blanched. He wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or intrigued that this man knew his name.

Despite his better judgment, he settled on the latter.

“I am,” he said.

The man laughed and clapped Stephan on the back. “I knew it right off! The bite marks give you away.” He held up his hand and bit into it playfully. “Rumors been floating around the docks about what you did yesterday. Some bravery it takes, to stare a bull shark in the eye like that and show it you’re the meaner bastard.”

Stephan chuckled nervously. “Ah, I wouldn’t say that’s exactly how it went down.”

The man took him by the shoulder and guided him towards a bar in the square. Stephan struggled to keep in step with his bum leg, even though the old pirate was slowed by his sub-par prosthetic.

“Nonsense, nonsense! Say, you’re Wenezian’s latest catch, aren’t you? So to speak?”

“Well, yes,” Stephan said. “I will be flying under her sail.”

The pirate gave him a sideways glance which made Stephan feel as though that had been the wrong expression to use.

“Always been fond of that girl,” the pirate went on without missing a beat. “Say, why don’t we go in for a pint? I bet you could use some advice from an old-timer like me.”

Stephan opened his mouth to accept.

“Lordling!” Yin shouted. “Get away from him. Now.”

Stephan froze and looked back. Yin stood a few meters behind them, staring intently at the old pirate with both swords drawn. She had settled into a low, predatory stance.

The pirate raised his hands, palms first, in a mockery of fear, but his grin didn’t slip one bit.

“Meant no offense, girl,” he said. “Don’t know what I did, but if my presence is such an eyesore on you, I will be gone.”

“Good,” Yin said. “And be quick about it, or you’ll need a replacement for the other leg, too.”

The pirate shrugged, turned around, and wandered off.

“What was that about?” Stephan asked Yin as they both watched him go.

She stuck her swords back in their sheaths. “Captain Rand.”

“Who?”

“One of the most feared pirates on the Shipbreaker Sea, that’s who.”

“Sounds like someone worth knowing then, in our line of work.”

“It does. Except the captain has told the crew explicitly to stay away from him, and never to deal with him or his.”

Stephan frowned. “Why? He doesn’t look like much.”

“I don’t know,” Yin said. “But there are few people who the captain gives such a wide berth, which means it must be for good reason.”

Captain Rand looked back before he rounded a corner.

He winked at Stephan, then disappeared.

*****

The whole crew was assembled in the captain’s cabin.

Kurko, the first mate, sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Kazzul, the pilot, lounged against a wall. Yin, the saboteur, hung upside down from a fixture in the ceiling, hair arrayed about her head. Torch, the demolitionist, tinkered with a glowing bit of enchanted metal. Taira, the astromancer, studied a beetle crawling across the back of her hand with rapt interest. Quintilla, the captain, sat behind her desk with a hat drawn over her eyes.

And lastly, Stephan himself, who was feeling a little out of place despite his official induction into the crew, sat in a chair, hands folded in his lap.

“Alright, everyone,” Quintilla said, flicking her hat back and sitting up straight. “We’ve got a job on our hands.”

“What kind of job is this, exactly?” Kazzul asked.

Quintilla’s gaze settled on Stephan for a long moment. “We will be taking down a Concordian warship.”

Stephan flinched.

First few days as a pirate, and he was already moving against his own homeland.

“Now, I understand you might have some apprehension about this, Mr. Lordling.”

“I’ll do it,” Stephan said quickly.

Quintilla’s eyebrows shot up. She nodded. “Alright. Good, then. We’ve been contracted by Valeria to wrangle this ship, steal certain documentation for their use, sink the fucker, and bring the documents back to them. They cannot afford to have it traced back to them, supposedly, as that would make for another war between the empire and the Concord. So, in return for this service, we will be paid two hundred kay standard. Usual shares apply. Questions?”

“Hmm, yes, I have one,” Kazzul said. “How do you intend for us to neutralize a warship? I don’t know if you have beheld this beauty up close as of late, but it is certainly no weapon of war. A warship will blow us out of the sky before we can even get in proper firing range.”

“Haven’t finalized that part yet,” Quintilla admitted. “But I will come up with something.”

Kazzul shuffled uncomfortably. “I would like something a little bit more reassuring than that.”

“We can go through strategy in due time. To everyone else, we take off tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Stephan turned to leave.

“Oh, and Mr. Lordling?” Quintilla called after him. “You’ll be part of the boarding team since this is your first time. Everyone must know their way around sacking a prize on this ship.”

Stephan’s blood froze. He stopped in his tracks and slowly looked back at the captain.

“You mean…”

“I’m expecting you to fight,” Quintilla clarified. “And it’s likely going to get bloody.”

Stephan swallowed.

Hard.

Aw, shit.