The city reels. As if in slow motion, buildings empty. The white blossoms bob lazily on inky stalks, each flower an agony to touch. Death has never looked so pretty. As the chaos unfurls, and screams echo down to the docks, Jonas paces into the officers cabin, interrupting yet another argument between Lily and Wilhelm. “We should strike now, there’s trouble out there. Sheep crowding the piers, it’s a good distraction.” “We don’t have a plan!” Lily and Wilhelm exclaim in unison, before turning to glare at each other, having been arguing down each other’s plans for the last half hour, each views their lack of a plan as squarely the others fault. “It’s now or never, I think,” Jonas says, running a hand through his hair. He can almost feel it growing gray while they blather. “We’ll have to improvise.” “What about Mudge?” Molly asks, and as one the crew turn to Thunder, who sits slumped in her chair, a bead of spittle hanging down from her lip. She draws in a breath, the sound rasping as she strains to fill her lungs. “We should be patient, send someone to check on him-” Her voice is breathy, nothing like her usual roar. “Begging your pardon, Captain.” Everyone turns to look at Artemis, who is sitting in the darkest corner of the cabin, half in shadow. “Jonas is right, we should strike now. The Ravens speak of upheaval and opportunity-” “Don’t need no pissin’ birds to tell me to strike when the iron’s hot,” Jonas shrugs. “But if it convinces the rest of you… I don’t think Mudge is gonna be able to trade that officer enough information to get us fuel unless he sells us all down the bloody river, and frankly Captain, I don’t know that you’re in a position to be giving orders right now.” A hissed gasp escapes from the crowd of officers at the mutinous words, and Jonas pauses, hands up. “Meant nothing by it, just that, without your fuel Captain, you’re not going to be thinking straight, so let us get you, and your gal back in working order, that way if Mudge hasn’t sold us out, and we need to rescue him, we’ll be in fighting shape.” “He wouldn’t do that,” Molly says sharply. “Course he bloody wouldn’t, cause if he did, I’d have his guts laid out on the deck.” “Wow, very scary,” Lily says with a mocking tone. “Shut it. Captain, with your orders, permission to take these idjits and go steal us some ‘gas.” A long silence fills the room, as Thunder thinks, before finally nodding. Jonas steps out onto the deck, before ducking into his private quarters quickly to grab a few things. He returns and joins the other officers and Rico, throwing a burnished red leather jacket on over his regular uniform. It gives him an official looking air, coupled with his obviously trained posture and half-feral eyes. He deputizes Kendra as Officer-in-charge-of-the-ship while they’re away, and the hulking Solarii woman nods a lazy salute. “Don’t go gettin’ any blood on my pretty little ducklings,” she says, as they descend a rope ladder to the dock. The ladder rolls back up, added security given the scramble of people crowding out of the city. “You have to tell us what you’re planning, Jonas!” Lily hisses, flashing her sharp teeth at him. Pale and grey, she has a sickly glow in the sunlight of the docks. “We’re going to walk right in and take their Widowgas,” he says, striding on without slowing. His hackles slightly raised, Jonas lets the crowd part around him as he walked assuredly on. “That’s not a- Damnit!” Lily responds, before rushing to catch up with him, her shorter stature making it that much more difficult for her to find her way through the growing crowd. Further still behind her, Wilhelm, navigator and half-blind Helmsman of the Kingfisher stands silently. He closes his eye and stares sightless into the crowd, before setting off without a word. Lily and Artemis take hold of each of his wrists as he sets off through the mass of people and unerringly follows Jonas across the docks. As they get closer to the Silver Linings, the crowd thins somewhat, and they come together. Jonas points out the ship, and briefly outlines his plan. A brief argument erupts, led largely by Lily, but Jonas quells it with a growl. It’s not like they have a better option. A single guard stands to attention in front of the ship, enough to keep the pedestrians at bay. Back straight, eyes forward, Jonas nods to the guard and moves to step up the gangplank leading to the deck. The soldier stammers. “That’s-that’s far enough, Sirs, Madam, you don’t-” Jonas cuts him off lazily. “Officer Hellion Bloodhallow, Special Ensign to Admiral Blitz of the Wrathhowl. He’s aware there’s a situation within the city, crowding on the docks. There’s a risk of rioting,” Jonas flashes a gold and red badge of office from his russet red coat and glares with yellowed eyes at the nervous security guard. “What’s your name son?” “My-my name?” “Yes, this is The Silver Linings, correct? Property of a Mister-” Jonas speaks, and sneezes at the same time, it garbles his speech, the name he said could have been anything. “Sorry about that,” Jonas follows, wiping his nose, “Hate this city. You’re name, quick boy!” “My name? It’s Jamie, Sir. What’s going on, uh, Officer?” The guard seems to have been desperately waiting for someone to come and tell him what to do, and Jonas steps into that position easily. “There’s been an attack,” Jonas drawls. “Navy Officers are securing the city proper, but as you might be seeing, civ’s are flooding the docks like rats out an aqueduct. Admiral Blitz, being a smart man, is worried about diversionary tactics, can’t trust those Faeries, you know?” The guard nods opening his mouth to speak, but Jonas just rolls on without heed. “If they wanted to hit Lincoln where it hurts most, they’d hit the docks. They’d be bold to do it, but we already know the freaks don’t exactly think like us.” Behind him, Lily stands in a melodramatic pose, looking out over the milling city with hands on hips. Behind her, Artemis and Wilhelm look bored. “We’re here,” Jonas continues, clearing his throat, “to divest all non-essential or non-flight ready ships of their Widowgas, to be returned and securely stored in the Wrathhowl’s hold until the situation settles.” The guard’s eyes narrow at the mention of the ‘gas. “We only collected that ‘gas two days ago. I really should speak to the Captain before I even let you on board, not to mention your… crew.” He pauses, glancing back behind Jonas to where Lily, Artemis and Wilhelm all stand to various degrees of attention. Lily seems to be enjoying her role, and is making it her own, chewing absently on something. The guard drops his voice low, and switches language to Feral, the rough home-tongue of the Wolfpack. “They’re not siblings, one is a breeder!” Jonas returns his growl, louder and deeper. “They are not pack. This chaff is here to pick up the slack. We’re not on Zeal anymore pup. We must make weapons with weaker metal.” “And I’m to trust your dominance over them?” The guard stands a little taller, finding his footing. Jonas doesn’t respond to that, he growls low in his throat, a rising menace that sets the hairs standing on the backs of the other officers' necks. The pup looks like he’s about to make a stand of some sort, and Jonas flashes his teeth. The pup of a guard looks down again at Jonas’ badge of office. He draws in a quick breath, before releasing it, deflating slightly. “Yes, Sir,” he says finally, reverting to Shatterling. “Let me go and notify the Captain.” “We don’t have time for that, look around, Jamie. Go tell your Captain, that’s fine, but we’re coming on board and getting started before this place goes straight to the bottom of the Opal Ocean.” The guard glances toward the city, people streaming down the main streets, shrieking as they make for the relative safety of the water. The young man nods and steps back. “Hurry it up then,” he says, trying to take back some semblance of control. “Of course,” Jonas says with a deferential nod and a grin that would have been a clear message to the hunter-gatherers of centuries before to stay indoors; wolves were out hunting. Around The Silver Linings, we see sky-ships taking off, fleeing the potentially riotous crowd to hover over the lake, burning fuel but protecting their wealthy inhabitants. Jonas leads his ‘chaff’, up onto the deck of the ship. While The Kingfisher has a certain rustic charm to her, this vessel is something else. Sleek curved wooden edges polished to a mirror shine, shades of dark and light interwoven by the master ship-builders of Lincoln, using only the finest materials. Much more than a mere boat, this is a work of art. A small part of Jonas wishes his boots are muddy. Ships were tools, they shouldn’t be this damned pretty. The rest of them studiously ignore the skeleton crew, who themselves are more focused looking over the deck at the smoke rising from the forests edge. Jamie, erstwhile guard, sends one of the other crewmen haring off into the hubbub to wherever the Captain is. The fuel is stored in a cylinder of dark metal. Freshly filled, it shines in the dim light of the cramped engine room. A window of frosted glass just barely reveals the amorphous indigo nebula within. Widowgas. A sliver of the massive fire which burns at the heart of their strange little solar system. Jonas taps Artemis and Lily to drag the heavy tank onto a small portable trolley commandeered from the crew. Jonas watches as Lily and Artemis strain to get the awkward amalgam of tank and trolley up the ladder and onto the deck proper. He does not help, and none of them would ask Wilhelm to step in. Jonas wishes for a second that they’d brought the boy, Rico, he is a freak, but has a strong enough back. Finally, Jonas growls and steps in himself, straining bitterly, they ascend and begin the easier task of wheeling the trolley across the deck. “Officer Bloodhallow, Sir!” Jamie calls. Jonas steps forward, interposing himself between the guard and the fuel as Lily and Artemis work to guide it down the plank. “Before you go, I’ll need your mark, you understand, of course.” He presents a small sheaf of papers, receipts of work done on the vessel. Turning over the uppermost scrap, Jamie quickly scrawls a note to the effect that one ‘Hellion Bloodhallow of the Wrathhowl’ has received a tank of Widowgas for safekeeping. Jonas smiles with too many teeth as he makes a signature with an aggressive flourish. “So, you’ll take the Widowgas to the Wrathhowl, and then ascend?” “That’s the plan,” Jonas says, handing back the note. His eyes catch something as the guard ducks his head to check the signature, and he swears under his breath, motioning behind his back. Rising up from the docks, directly behind the shoulders of the Wolfpack pup is the Wrathhowl itself, massive engine smoking as it powers into the air. Jonas tracks it with his eyes for a second and then looks back at the guard. There is a brief, frozen moment where they lock eyes. A shadow looms over the young man and his eyes narrow. He begins to turn his head, before Jonas’s knife sprouts from his chest, blooming red across his crisp uniform. His howl cuts off in an instant, fading to a rough gurgle as he slumps. “Go!” Jonas shouts, as the others take the trolley of stolen cargo onto the docks proper and begin to flee.