Chaos followed.

  A third blur bounced into view, but at that point all three were already spewing acrid, thick white smoke like geysers. One such geyser was spewing forth underneath a sailor who had jumped on the smoke grenade, trying to shield his crewmates with his life.

  The smoke tasted of heat and batteries. Joshua grabbed Gianna and Bartholomew-- who had Emilie likewise—and tore ahead through the screaming, writhing masses. It was an unholy mess that Joshua had to choke down. He slammed into frail old ladies pushing themselves up from their knees, he clipped a soldier and steered himself out of the spin. The sound of gun shots ricocheted between the turrets.

  His own vision was zilch. Tears streamed from his eyes and snot oozed down across his lips. He’d even been exposed to dispersal gas before, but this stuff was higher grade—military grade.

  The mad sprint only ended when Joshua’s face collided with a cold steel wall. Stooping over, he fumbled blindly until he located where the handle should have been.

  Wherever Kael was, he did his job.

  Joshua blundered next: without thinking, he called for his companions just out of arm’s length. This only invited more of the caustic smoke into his lungs. Gagging, he reached out and felt a bony arm. Bartholomew judging by the size. He dragged them through the door.

  Flailing into a sterile hallway, Joshua was hesitant to close the entry. He assumed Bartholomew still had Emilie, but he hadn’t the opportunity to pull Gianna in. But as the gas started to wisp into the interior of the ship like the mists back in Einhurst, Joshua slammed the door shut, putting his butt against the blasted door handle.

  Only his ears. He listened for the sound of footsteps or grunts or yells from above or below.

  “Over here,” a voice hissed more than whispered. Joshua got one eye open long enough to see Gianna duck into a room further down the hallway. He’d be impressed she slipped in on her own, if he had the capacity to string two concepts together.

  Joshua ushered Bartholomew and Emilie, howling like a small wounded animal, down the hallway and into the room. He swung the door shut behind them and just in time. A stampede of boots echoed down a nearby stairwell and rushed past. The herd of soldiers passed onto the deck of the ship, and Joshua’s heart sank as a spray of bullets rebounded back through the hall.

  They’re okay. Just warning shots. Taerose has to realize it’s not deadly by now. The justification was thin-- who wouldn’t be jumpy?-- but in a rare panic, Joshua found that he couldn’t think of the innocents right now. They had their own problems and he had his own friends (are they?) to keep alive.

  “You handled that well,” Joshua coughed at Gianna. “Did you use your powers to navigate?” There’s no way.

  “Just used to it; not the first time breathing that gas.” Gianna paced the little breakroom, rifling through drawers. “Stupid question from stupid people, he saw me hit my head.”

  Much like the woes of the refugees outside, Joshua found the need to shove this information aside. Every new story she told was more horrific than the last and enough to distract him with the sheer injustice of it all. And he already knew she wouldn’t be anything other than awkward if he expressed sympathy.

  She could acclimate to human emotions at a more reasonable time.

  “So you won’t be able to check for incoming hostiles as we move?” Joshua asked.

  Gianna ignored him, digging out her nose with her pinky. One way to get the sinuses cleared after that. Maybe if no one is looking.

  Bartholomew was in the corner on one knee, using his sleeve to wipe Emilie’s face. She was crying and Joshua would never hold that against her. If he could justify bringing them into the ship’s interior because it was safer, then he had to recognize this was where the justification stopped.

  “Bartholomew,” Joshua grabbed his attention, finding the man in as good a shape as Gianna. Only Emilie and he had been reduced to sniveling babies. “Me and Gianna—”

  “Gianna and I,” Emiliee slobbered out.

  “Yes, Gianna and I will make for the bridge. You two hunker down here, bar the door. I’ll get you when it’s time.”

  Bartholomew didn’t voice an opinion, only shrugged.

  Another stampede of feet passed, so Joshua and Gianna slipped into the hall and sprinted for the nearest stairwell. Joshua led, taking them two at a time, right up to a solid-looking metal door that screamed “more important than the others.” He grimaced, wondering if they sealed it in times like this.

  “Get ready,” Joshua commanded, one hand on the handle. One of us needs to be.

  “What are we even doing?” Gianna’s question evaporated far faster than the gas had as Joshua barged forward.

  His feet slid and he almost tumbled into the bridge headfirst. But whatever momentum he had, arrested the instant the bridge revealed itself. A flash of ornamented medals and finely starched uniforms played backdrop to a chorus of revolver barrels. On either side of the entry, non-officers, the soldier variety of sailor, hefted automatic LimB rifles inches from his face. Gianna attempted to tiptoe backwards but stopped as several of the weapons swiveled to greet her in turn.

  Joshua looked around, as much as he could. Across the consoles and arcane looking equipment, standing with his back to the wide bridge window was the obvious captain- dressed in a clean white uniform with Taerose Black stripes on his shoulder. No ornamentation, badges or medals, one did not need to call themselves captain or general in Taerose.

  One simply was.

  Silence persisted eerily through the room until Joshua decided he couldn't stand it any longer. “Um, everyone stay calm because nobody needs to, uh. . .” Kael stumbled into view on the catwalk outside behind their backs. “. . .get, get hurt here.” Just a couple more seconds, the plan was on track.

  Short, clean-cut, rosy-cheeked but still lean. The captain clicked his tongue. He stood upright, his hands clasping each other behind his back. “Oh yes, I offer you our unconditional surrender,” he sneered.

  Look anywhere but Kael right now. He was halfway.

  The captain nodded a tenth of a degree, directing Joshua’s attention to his left. A panel of monitors showed camera feed throughout the ship-- their point of entry squarely framed. “Oh yes indeed, caught us entirely by surprise.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Joshua looked back and smiled, a slither of drool slipping down his chin. How long is this stuff going to be in my system? “For all the smugness, I expect you won’t shoot us for the very reason you will now take us to the mainland.” Kael was limping hard, just a few more seconds.

  The captain raised an eyebrow. Translation: “Pray tell.”

  “Your crew, and especially you, won’t risk the hostage.”

  The captain’s beady eyes darted around the room to his subordinates, calculating if someone had failed to report such a substantially tremendous fact, or perhaps simply to imagine the punishments he would dole out on those that let such a thing happen; after he ignored the threat of course. “You’re lying. Hads, Breckmeir, you have my leave to fi—"

  ###

  Slumped like a shadow behind the captain on the catwalk, Kael blew the bridge’s entire viewport away with a single flare of his powers. With a single hobble forward, Kael was inside with his arm crooked around the captain’s neck.

  The distraction had worked exceptionally well. Any other day, Kael would have braved a frontal assault on the captain’s position with all the ill-advised overconfidence of his youth, but today he’d have happily spent the entire time in the arctic waters just to stay off his throbbing calves.

  “Drop them!” Kael yelled, the crew about-facing on him and his hostage. His powers couldn’t combust their firearms since they touched them directly; they would need to be scared into it.

  “I said drop them!” Kael yelled, his throat cracking. He moved his head behind the captain’s the best he could, not willing to gamble heroics on the enemy’s part. The soldiers with automatic rifles trained on Joshua and Gianna waivered, unable to decide the proper target.

  Targets indeed. Kael always liked the idea of taking out the strongest first. As an added bonus, he could avoid a double hostage situation.

  With a near migraine at the act, Kael split two lines of energy through the floor and blew them skyward. Only they were indoors. The two soldiers crumpled against the ceiling and dropped to the floor. Kael stood fast, expecting their weapons to fire on accident but mercifully that didn’t happen.

  “Easy lads,” the captain murmured—Kael unclear who the lads were in this scenario. Kael grabbed the captain's hat and infused just enough energy to cause it to burst into flame. “Weapons down!” the captain screamed, furiously rocking his head back and forth to loose the cap. His voice tightened to a whine, begging the half of the crew with fight in their eyes.

  Slowly, a bit confused, they lowered their weapons to the ground.

  Kael swatted the hat from his head only leaving a mess of singed hair.

  “Move all your guns to the corner there. After that, back to your posts,” Kael ordered. “I haven't killed anyone yet, but that can change easily enough.”

  Joshua held up a hand calling for Kael's attention. “You seem to have this so I'm going to go find the bathrooms. Be right back.”

  Obviously, Joshua was up to something else—at least, probably. But it didn’t matter. Kael had it in hand. He ordered Gianna to move to his side which she did with a dumb muteness, neither acknowledging the ensigns staring her down nor showing any hint of recognition how entirely absurd their position had become.

  “Can, powers, use?” Kael signed with one hand behind Captain Beasley’s back. The question mark he drew in the air, that sign requiring two hands.

  “Maybe if I rest a bit,” Gianna said aloud.

  “Do.”

  Kael didn’t know what to expect, but the girl ambled to the grating a few feet behind him, sat down, and dangled her legs a couple stories over the deck.

  The absurdities grew.

  Fifteen minutes later, a playful knock sounded at the sealed, fortress of a bridge door, and Kael could see now that Joshua and Gianna’s entry had been dumb luck. He could annoy Joshua with that bit of trivia, but he found himself without the energy to be petty. Kael ordered the door open, still holding the captain in a vice grip.

  Joshua strode in with large, important steps, Bartholomew and Emilie in tow.

  Bartholomew was safe; Kael had worried.

  Joshua wrinkled his nose at the two soldiers receiving first aid in the corner opposite the weapon pile; Kael could guess what his bleeding heart was thinking. His brother shook it off though, to his credit, and approached.

  “Status report Mr. Kael,” Joshua said in a mock voice of the captain. It was country Taerosian, southern, and sure to be viewed as an insult. Undoubtedly hashing up some memories of the first time that man made it to the big city.

  Kael answered, “Well admiral, we have the ship turned around and now we are headed due southwest at a moderate speed. We should be within the waters of Sela shortly.”

  “What is a Sela, Mr. Kael?”

  “It’s the country. . . . Is this a joke? It’s important to me that it isn’t.”

  “I’ll work on my material. Anyways, good work. I believe a promotion is in order. Congratulations Lieutenant Colonel.”

  “Don’t believe that’s a nautical rank,” Kael said. “Also, can you get your arm around this guy’s neck for a bit?”

  “Then it’s janitor for you.” Joshua huffed, awkwardly switching the chokehold on the captain. “You have janitors don’t you?” The captain gurgled as Joshua rotated himself behind, putting too much pressure on the windpipe. “I think that means yes. Well, either a yes or a ‘I wish I could kill you’. I’m inclined to believe the former as it suits my interests. Such is the prerogative of my rank.”

  Kael and Joshua’s antics had not only the Taerosean crew at full attention but their own crew. Gianna had leaned back, watching them upside down. Meanwhile, Bartholomew with his daughter following by belt buckle (and thoroughly transfixed at the beeps and boops of the bridge) sidled up.

  “Excuse me,” Bartholomew said adjusting his glasses-- dried phlegm on his shabby beard—“but about what you said earlier: the ship sailing to Sela.”

  Kael broke off and stalked through the crew like some feral predator. It wasn’t a question of if but when. Someone would try something.

  “What about it first mate?” Joshua replied to Bartholomew.

  “No country in their right mind would let us sail up to their shores in a Taerosean dingy, let alone a battleship.

  “We have ways.” Kael shouted across the room.

  “We do?” Emilie peeked from behind Bartholomew.

  “We have curs and ways little girl,” Joshua said.

  “Bad joke, and wrong word for the joke to boot.” Kael found an empty chair and sat down, swiveled it so no one was behind him.

  “You say that,” Joshua pressed on, but he’s right here. Our cur and our way. You have a name captain?”

  “I am Captain Beasley of the--”

  “Honestly, I don’t want to know the rest,” Joshua said. “I really didn’t even care to know your name, but formalities and all of that. Am I right? Anyway, I would first like to thank you for the kind hospitality you and your men have shown us. Second, I would like you to know that we don’t like this situation any more than you do and we’ll try to end our imposing stay as soon as possible. And finally (and most importantly might I add) we would like your assistance in helping us get off this vessel.”

  At the sound of these last words, the rest of the crew turned to face their captain, a mixture of expression on their faces from hopeful to angry to disgust.

  Captain Beasley gritted his teeth and replied, “What did you have in mind?”

  Kael leaned back to appraise. It couldn’t be that easy.

  Joshua grinned. “The plan is pretty simple really: You phone Sela, you tell them you rescued three fisherman, or whatever you think would be believable, you send for them to come pick us up. And, here’s the masterstroke, they then come pick us up.”

  Captain Beasley mulled it over, his tongue lolling in his mouth. He nodded. “Agreeable.”

  Translation: “Disagreeable.”

  Kael signaled Joshua with their own code, scratching the left side of his face in a circular motion with two fingers. Meaning: “Liar.”

  Joshua signed ‘yes’ openly in RUS. Kael sat back straight and studied his brother. He was planning something. It better be a new improvisation; Kael didn’t like being left out of the plan.

  Joshua beckoned Bartholomew over and tried to pass off the captain but was met with open palms. Making an annoyed noise, Joshua continued. “Agreeable. You downright owe us for such an easy resolution. We capture your boat with the only inconvenience to you some broken glass.” He gestured broadly to the catwalk. Gianna lay there, not caring what was happening feet away. “If you manage your men, fudge the reports, no one has to know. Maybe show some gratitude and start calling me admiral as well.”

  “Nice villain monologue, J.” Kael grunted, his senses finding an aberration in the room.

  As Joshua laughed dimly at the repartee, Kael sent a fissure of energy to the weapons stack in the corner as a stray crewman stuck his arm out. The stock of the weapon he picked up was already glowing and popped in his hand. The man yalped, dragging himself away from the weapons on all fours.

  “I’m going to let you pick it up before I do it next time,” Kael lied. “Next person loses their hand.” He could see them seething at him and his words, so he shot a glib smile to Bartholmew walking past: “Took longer than I expected for them to try.” If he was the king-emperor, this boatload of fools would be the first to get the sack. Every ounce of defiance had drained from the crew’s eyes after that last stunt.

  “This is Major Deaniu of the Selan Coast Guard, do you copy?” the radio crackled to life.

  Kael looked to surprise at the receiver between his propped up feet.