Across uneven ground into the jaggy peaks, the chase ran harder with steady breath and pumping arms, hot air blown out like some machine not yet invented.

  From the occasional glance back to my pursuer as we scaled past the tree line, it was clear he was gaining, but without knowing what kind of Psychic he was, it was difficult to say how he managed to maintain the pace. I am no slouch.

  And without identifying his elemental predilection, the safest form of engagement for the fight that must come would be subterfuge, trickery.

  Fair fights are entirely unappealing.

  -Up for the Challenge

  ###

  Bartholomew lay with skin cyan-hued amongst the huddle of refugees. Joshua deposited Emilie at his side, and then laid his coat over Bartholomew. There were things in the pockets he couldn’t bear to lose, but Joshua could retrieve his effects before they were needed.

  The imposing Taerosian battleship cut towards them. The back of Joshua’s brain screamed for more processing power as he jogged across the deck, but he wasn’t finished playing medic quite yet. Feeling the biting sea air seep cold into his muscles, he lowered himself to Gianna whom he had wedged up against the ship’s railings, face out to sea. Just in case the head trauma resulted in vomiting.

  This proved a prescient decision.

  “You hanging in there?” he asked.

  No answer.

  Joshua leaned over the top bar to get a look at her. She looked like garbage, but her eyes skittered, however out of focus. “Blink once if you can respond but chose not too; blink twice if you’re doing that bad.”

  Gianna sat stock-still. Good news, Joshua thought, her sense of humor has not changed. He about faced and began his stroll to double check on Bartholomew. He passed by Kael who lay on the deck rubbing his legs, and groaning.

  “Get off it you pansy,” Joshua said. “Hairlined or not, you’re the one I need to rely on to deal with that.” His thumb jerked to the creeping death, still chugging along.

  “My legs just took the weight of an explosion strong enough to launch two grown men. I don’t think pansy is the word.”

  “I agree, but there are children running around so I was trying to keep it age appropriate.” Kael scowled, but he always did that, so Joshua chose to dismiss it.

  Joshua passed by Bartholomew: “Blink once if—”

  “I’m warming up just fine,” Bartholomew said in an almost whisper. He now lay with Emilie under a blanket that another refugees donated. “You’re on deck. Find a way to keep us from getting forced back to the island. Or worse.”

  Joshua rubbed his hands together and looked out to sea once more, the gun turrets distinctly visible now. Then he looked to his feet and chuckled. “I am on deck, aren’t I?” Joshua paced back, a groan behind him.

  Their own vessel had choked to a silent stop, no surprise there. It seemed certain at this point that they wouldn’t make it to the main land on this crabber. Even if they stalled or sunk the battleship—something Kael might be able to do—might— the enemy vessel would radio and the navy would be the least of their troubles. Joshua put a hand over his brow and looked skyward, double checking. Joshua couldn’t imagine there being a version of events where they were allowed to leave peacefully. No, this meant that the only way they were leaving was on that killer-of-men.

  And he could imagine a way forward to that eventuality. Gianna had guaranteed as much with all of her talk about taking hostages.

  The bad influence won out today.

  He sighed, he shivered. It could happen; he just had to work backwards. Two Syches, what he had in his pockets. Predictable military efficiency. The plan worked if he could get his group on that battleship.

  And there it was. He had already come up with a solution for that, if not in a roundabout way. It was a good plan. Heck, it was a great plan. Most important of all, it was an ethical plan. Good guys, bad guys, and all the neutrals in between. No one was getting hurt today.

  “Kael, I have some nonsense for you.”

  Bartholom faded for a second and came back to with Joshua a nose length away.

  “Hey buddy,” Joshua said, “I don’t need my coat back right now—per se. But I do need what’s in pocket #3.” He pulled off Kael’s windbreaker draped over his own shoulders and shook it. “I’ve got new pockets for them.”

  “O, can I see the pockets?” Emilie asked.

  “No.”

  “Pocket three? This stupid thing has numbers?” Bartholomew asked.

  “It does. In my brain. Where the rest of reality is located, I suppose.” Joshua changed gears, realizing they were actually on the clock. He reached under the blanket and felt around for the right inside pocket, that was #3. “The pockets are in order of importance. Over the heart? That’s pocket #1; crazy valuable, don’t look.” Joshua pulled a dark, oblong shape from pocket #3, cupped it completely as possible as he pulled it into his stomach. “#10 is the other chest pocket. Keep my spare change in there.” His other hand reached in and came out with an identical oblong shape that he quickly cupped to his gut to hide.

  Shouts came from the open door that led to the bowels of the ship. This riled up the hundred bodies shivering on the deck, but it had nothing to do with the battleship. That thing was still on the approach. You could tell by the lack of ear-bleeding artillery fire.

  Joshua pushed Bartholomew back down. “Nothing to worry about Doc. Kael just sank the ship.”

  Bartholomew blinked, repeatedly. “Your brother sunk the battleship?”

  “No silly. He sunk our ship.”

  As if on queue, a couple of plaid wearing sailors yanked open the door and vaulted onto the deck, chests heaving, eyes wild. They stared at the battleship minutes away, the calm demeanor of the passengers. They turned on each other, yelling under their breaths. They ducked back below deck with a quick hand signal to the bridge.

  Bartholmew coughed, “I’m too cold to go into the water.”

  “That isn’t a you-specific fact. Relax.”

  “Lifeboats.” Bartholomew let out his stress with a rattling sigh and laid back down.

  “Absolutely not enough for all of us. But like I said, don’t worry,” Joshua said tapping his noggin. “I’m the one that knows Taerose military doctrine. Let’s just stick with Gianna, there will come a point where it will be easy to get lost.”

  Joshua left his coat with the doctor—hesitantly this time. They shouldn’t need any more odds and ends for the plan anyway, and the contents of pocket #2 had been saved for three years for the worst emergency. If they needed that, something had gone horrifically wrong. What was a little more cold, really? And if he did get hypothermia and die so that Emilie and Batholomew could have long (relative to their respective ages) and happy lives, then that was okay too.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  As he strode back to the railing, Gianna remained the same, looking back in the direction of Tyré. Joshua hovered over and then leaned forward, looking down into the water where Kael was treading.

  “Good job, K, crew is freaking.”

  “Got the stuff, J?”

  Joshua grinned and tossed Kael’s windbreaker into the sea within grabbing distance. “How are the legs?”

  “You were right about swimming, it’s better than standing.”

  “It’s a short reprieve. You’ll be running all around the battleship soon enough.”

  Kael grimaced, looking back to the speck that was Tyré, as if that was an option. “I’m more worried about the swim. It’s a big ship, getting to the other side won’t be easy.”

  Joshua glanced over his shoulder casually, sizing up the oversized hunk of metal. “They’ll be distracted with the sinking crabber, only way to guarantee a blind spot. Hey, we trained for this. You can hold you breath longer than me.”

  “You didn’t take those exercises seriously.”

  “Of course not. Imagine me of all people jumping into the ocean? Slimy things live down there.”

  “Rarely dangerous--”

  “Hideous. Squirmy,” Joshua finished.

  Kael rolled his eyes and continued staring into the ocean. Somewhere behind Joshua, the first inflatable life raft flopped onto the deck, ready to be deployed. Kael continued, “You make sure Gianna makes it to the bridge. We’ll need whatever muscle we can get.”

  “She’s a bit of a potato right now.”

  “Potatoes have use.”

  “Then I’ll find a sack.”

  Neither Joshua nor Kael seemed to mind talking about Gianna as she lay on the ground at Joshua’s feet. She, perhaps, did mind. Continuously blinking twice in succession.

  ###

  The water was cold enough to kill, just not kill a Combustion Syche. Although-- Kael could feel his brain starting to strain using his powers. He hadn’t had any useful rest in nearly two days now and all the while he had been burning his power to stay warm. Combined with the times he had actually needed to expend real amounts of Scyhakinetic energy like the dock or the valley, he was reaching the breaking point.

  But that would happen later. He could and would push through. One final push. If he could get them to the mainland, everything was solved. They could rest. They could make it to Dania and be a family again. He was on the verge of every wild dream being fulfilled if he could just push.

  “Push and you push, and eventually it gives.” Agassa had said that about both physical and mental wellbeing during training, but Kael knew that it really applied to the world. He could be both the fulcrum and lever if he just kept pushing.

  So he waited behind the front tip of the crabber as it slid in the water. Something nipped at his left leg, probably a scintillion; Kael kicked it away.

  The crew had prepped the life boats, but a different parity had been reached. The refugees, the crew, the captain, everyone waited on the deck as the Taerosian battleship pulled along their vessel. Taerosian doctrine, a.k.a. don’t let the conquered population immigrate, dictated that the ship would lug the lot them back to Tyré—best to conquer a country with as much of its population intact as possible.

  Joshua disappeared overhead, schlepping Gianna to her feet and pulling her away from the railing.

  The battleship loomed, its shadow covered the crabber. Turrets cluttered the deck keeping on iron watch over the ocean, sailors lined the railing stiff and at attention, and the bridge rose from the middle of the behemoth touting a rank human arrogance. Flaws in nature were happenstantial, but why would you broadcast your weak point so clearly? The imperialists were about to learn that the days of the boarding party had come again.

  Kael took a brief look as the soldiers began yanking the refugees up the ladder. Where they were placing their prisoners was the only problem, because it could be anywhere. He needed to get into position and reevaluate.

  From just under the rising bow, Kael watched the navy men along the rails.

  Now was the time.

  Kael swam out into the five foot gap between the ships. At the clammy hull of the steel-clad battleship, he took the deepest breath and plunged. The conduction difference between water and metal was night and day. He could use his sense to help navigate, but the distance to go filled him with dread. His shins felt like they had split in two and every kick through the inky blackness sent tendrils of pain flowering through the nerves. He broke the surface on the other side, seventeen seconds past the point of forcing himself not to panic.

  Taking the quietest breath he could manage, he rolled onto his back to survey the length of railing above. No guards, but also no way up. Joshua and he hadn’t discussed how Kael would actually get aboard, his stupid brother had just assumed he could.

  Well, he could.

  Kael gauged the height. Even assuming his body would hold together for another explosion-riding, he didn’t have anything to blow up except his windbreaker, and that wasn’t enough to get the job done. A breach would be noisy and the last thing he needed was to work his way up to the deck that way.

  When all else failed, invent something new.

  Joshua had taken that lesson to heart every time Agassa said it, but, in reality, she had said it specifically to the Syches in the family. Even something as simple as Combustion had infinite possibilities.

  Kael quieted himself and let his energy flow through the outermost layer of metal. He raised the level little by little, feeling the atoms excite, inching closer to the detonation point when they could no longer be contained. But that wasn’t what was needed. He needed finesse—and a bunch of other boring words. He crept the energy closer and closer to the point of release but didn’t let it move from containment. He wasn’t blasting a hose, he was wringing a rag.

  Right there!

  Kael opened his eyes to see that the point of the hull he had focused on was melted into a concave dent. No sound for anyone to hear or abnormality to see if you were on the other side. Not a viable method for climbing up either, but proof of concept all the less. He forced the energy in deeper, and as the heat dissipated, Kael slid his fingers into the first grip.

  Judging by the height of the ship, about fifty to go. And if he lost concentration for a second, every sailor aboard would hear it as a declaration of war.

  ###

  “Ouch!” Joshua yelped. It felt like his shoulder was being dislocated as the large handed soldier yanked him up the last few feet of the ladder and sent him tumbling into Bartholomew. They had done a good job of sticking together in the panic as Joshua heard a “Don’t touch me!”, and before he could look back, Gianna came crashing into him.

  The quick journey up the flimsy rope ladder onto the battleship had been pleasant compared to what was to come. The soldiers created a column with their bodies and shouted in Taerean. Joshua complied, putting his arms over his head. They’re intentionally using a language we might not know. Baiting some violence are we? Whether they were mimicking those around them or the situation seemed to call for it, the refugees—prisoners more like—were falling into line with their heads raised.

  The line was shepherded along a short distance before Joshua was forced to his knees, shoulder to shoulder. It gave him very little time to actually survey the deck. He noted the doors leading below as a man screamed with the barrel of his assault rifle two inches from Joshua nose; Joshua jerked his eyes to the deck. As the man passed by, Joshua piqued back up and quickly surveyed the position of the soldiers before another threat, and went back to admiring the cold steel floor.

  Everyone, and everything for that matter, being so cramped would be to their benefit. With Bartholomew to his right, arm around Emilie who was stifling sobs, and Gianna to his left, absolutely chaffing at the contact with Joshua and the other stranger beside her. They were in position, with the sprint to the nearest door sitting at twenty feet at most.

  Wait a second. Joshua looked to both Bartholomew and Gianna in their tattered Dark Element uniforms. Their robes didn’t even register with the soldiers. Are the Dark Element just mercenaries? Working on a need-to-know basis no less. Joshua had been so thoroughly predisposed to decry anything evil or awful as being from the Empire, but current circumstances spoke to independence between the two parties, a very limited relationship. Maybe I could pay the Dark Element to go away. They don’t need to know I don’t have any money until I’m over the horizon.

  The next seconds, minutes, units of time at such odd intervals as to never been named, passed excruciatingly slow. His knees were creaking on the metal. While warm in the middle of a mass of bodies, those on the outside had to be buffeted by the sharp wind. And the stress of it all. Joshua bit down on the skin under his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood every time there was a cry of confusion or pain. The prisoners kept coming, young and old, forced to their knees-- looking exactly like the last preparations for a mass execution. Which this isn’t. They could have just left us on the boat and saved themselves the bullets. But the moments passed excruciatingly slow all the same. If someone was shot, it would be his fault.

  His plan, his fault.

  At some point in that untellable stretch of time, the bodies stopped being pulled aboard. Joshua glanced over expecting some difficult passenger who couldn’t climb on their own, perhaps too heavy or too old, but no, the ladder was being unhooked and rolled up, and a soldier signaled the bridge with wrists forming a right angle above his head. Not RUS, you wouldn’t want to rely on sign language for communication across a boat.

  Even on a boat that large, Joshua could feel the engines starting up. They were away from the sinking crabber and slowly angling back towards Tyré. Joshua could understand Kael waiting as long as possible so that everyone was rescued, but they were moving now. If he had managed to get on the boat, now was the time. If he hadn’t—well, Joshua would have to shout man overboard and figure it out as he went. Their initial plan to get to the mainland was already a stretch, Joshua simply wasn’t equipped for it getting even worse.

  The first hint of Kael wafted in as black smoke rising from a turret towards the stern. Joshua gritted his teeth as the soldiers looked to the refugees shuddering and compliant, seventy helpless people forced onto the deck. Two men broke off from the encirclement and jogged to the smoke.

  No sound. No fight or fuss. The salty wind kept it’s hissing sting as everyone, refugee and soldier alike, waited and grimaced. The thick necked thugs shifted side to side nervously, fingers clutching their rifle stocks tighter. Kael couldn’t expect to pick them off one at a time like this, he needed to—

  Joshua blinked, seeing a fuzzy black shape bounce off the middle of the central mast pole and right into the thick of the refugees. Another came bouncing their way nearly smacking a soldier in the head.

  “Grenade!” one of the Taserosians shouted in his native tongue.

  Chaos followed.