Glint's Gate was but a tiny white spot, far far above. Rays of white, pure light shone down on a tiny island, at an angle. A small finger, the island was shaped in its rocky image. Built on top of the rocky finger was a man-made contraption, trying to reach for the Gate. When the Golden Lily passed the island, lovingly named Strife Island, the contraption seemed to reach far closer to Glint's Gate. Illusions of perspective. From the looks of it, many different builders had attempted their luck at extending the finger's reach. Maybe to finally reach the pure light. Stairs and ladders were attached to the contraption, hardly a sturdy thing. The top was bent, multiple ropes or chains idly hung down.
Valentina shook the feeling of a haunted remnant of old. The woman had her elbows on the reeling and her gaze took in the static sight of the abandoned island. It was her second day on the Golden Lily. Her feet were still a little wobbly, but she managed. Melancholy and regret held her in their grasp tightly. Not a minute passed when her mind didn't dread the loss of her life on the Upperside. A quiet day on the calm waters did not provide any distraction from her thoughts.
This had been the main reason why the Uppersider had left her cot and cabin to find something. Cointoss had mentioned that they would be passing Strife Island and suggested to have a look. Gladly she'd jumped at the opportunity. A mariner's life may be interesting and lucrative, but she was a mere passenger and had no duties or skills. Both her index finger tips rubbed the bridge of her nose and she sighed. Her skill set of being a marketing manager would be utterly useless her. That was a problem for another day however. She turned and leaned back against the reeling, peering into the pitch black night opposite of Glint's Gate. No stars, no moon, no sun, just darkness. It was eery. Haunting even.
A glance back at the hole far above left her irritated. They hadn't sailed far enough for the light to be this weak. Something about this darkness in this place wasn't right. It swallowed light, and possibly even sound as there was no sound at all, except the splash of water hitting the side of the boat and the engine.
With a groan, she pushed herself off the rusty, metal frame and walked back to the main bulkhead into the container ship. Slowly, bulkhead after bulkhead, Valentina made her way to the kitchen. Most likely Whaler would be preparing something. So far the menu had consisted of fish variants as soup, fried and cooked, plus a vegetable called patata. Her head assumed it was potato, but that wasn't quite it. Raw, it was a black tuber and quite a bit more squishy than potatoes. Cooked, it tasted sweet and her mind had somehow come up with a parsley spiced lychee.
Whaler knew quite a bit about the flora on the Underside. He had asked her, "What!" when her face turned to disbelief. Why would anything grow in darkness? The tacitum navigator had just shrugged and put three different mushrooms on the work space in front of him. All of them had veins of bright green or bright blue. They glowed and reflected transformed light from another wavelength spectrum. That was her interpretation. Whaler had no idea about wavelengths. A crude description of the infrared spectrum had given her the idea. All of a sudden 12th grade physics came in handy. Who could've known.
Food took another hour, enough time to stretch out on the cot. Valentina's back still hadn't healed from the impact. Except her mental baggage, this was the last wound visible on her body. Whitebeard had gifted her his mirror temporarily and she was grateful for that. Undressing was tedious, slow and painful. The thick winter jacket slid down her arms. Everyone on board had a winter jacket of similar style. The Underside was freaking cold. Colder than Italy in Winter by far. Her guess was roughly five to six degrees Celsius.
Underneath the jacket she wore a spare one-piece from Grunt that was way too wide, but the height fit. A mariner's one-piece on the Golden Lily had sturdy fabric all the way down to the shoes. It was held up by two straps that could be clipped or just slid off the shoulders similar to a dress. The arm cut-outs reached down to the waist. Her lack of spare clothes had earned her a set of donations. An old crop top from Cointoss, she could alternate that with her bra. Shoes from Whaler who seemed to have the smallest shoe size for some reason. The one-piece and jacket from Grunt, the roundest crew member, but also the one closest to her size. Everybody else was so freaking tall! And finally two sets of panties from Cointoss. Wearing those on a date would be a definite turn off to everyone. She wouldn't utter those words to anybody however, since the kindness was heartwarming. A stranger, pushed through a hole far above, who brought nothing of value, yet everyone did their best to help out.
When her sore limbs stretched out on the cot, she felt the bruises all over her back. The skin was tainted blue and black. It'd take a while to heal. Distant pain mingled with the aching skin. A second later tears filled her eyes and she turned to face the metal wall. Thoughts circled her predicaments, pushing one sob after the next into the room. Helpless and alone, that was her assessment and no matter how hard she cried, it wouldn't just change. Yet the tears wouldn't stop. Maybe it'd take time.
***
The crew was assembled in full for the meal. Whaler had announced it by hitting a small bell in the kitchen space. It reverberated through the belly of the boat and ripped Valentina from her wailing. She ducked through the bulkhead into the kitchen and glanced around. Next to Cointoss a plate sat, waiting for her. The realisation of being welcome in this group of misfits made the corners of her mouth curl up. "Welcome, Miss Valentina, glad ye could join us t'night!", Whitebeard rumbled and gestured for her to sit. Left of her, Cointoss and then Grunt. Across sat Whaler, scratching his stubby beard and next to him Merina. The girl was considered good fortune, or so everyone said. Valentina had seen the pretty girl mop the whole place meticulously. Finally at the head of the table, between Grunt and Merina, Whitebeart, hands resting on the table, overlooked the assembly majestically. That man had charisma. Lots of it.
"Before we debate our return to Mariner's Cove," he let his gaze sweep from person to person "one more stop is due on Virgin's End". The grimace on Cointoss' face spoke volumes. "Why are you all making these faces?", Valentina wondered, but it wasn't Cointoss who vented, it was Grunt's soft voice, "You see, my dear, Virgin's End is not a name that King Rochard has given the rock. It's populated by a few nobles and women in slavery, degraded and suppressed. Everyone knows it, but islands maintain sovereignty. That's the law". "Why do you trade with them, if you despise what this King is doing?", she added thoughtfully. "A trader's honour! As long as the Free Trading Company is willing to trade, so will we", the Captain rumbled, but she could tell that he didn't like this one bit. "After this stop, we'll be off to Mariner's Cove and you'll be able to set your eyes on the majestic Peak of the Herald!", he continued and somehow the mention of this Herald lifted everyone's spirits. The Golden Lily had been at sea for weeks and was running low on supplies. Maybe that's why everyone looked forward to having solid ground under their feet.
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Then they dug in. All of them. Swallowing larger chunks of food somehow hurt her bruises. Valentina ate slowly, carefully and listened in on the things everyone had to share. Somehow she didn't like being the centre of a conversation amongst strangers, so she kept out as well as she could. Her assessment of the food put it into a category between "It's okay" and "Blurg". Since there was no alternative, she just ate it and distracted herself.
"Ye think there's someone controlling those tincans?", Cointoss asked between stuffing a large chunk of octopus into her mouth. "'course", Whaler grunted, but offered no explanation. "Don't you think they could be intelligent enough?", Merina's high pitched voice cut through the noises of munching. "Ya wish", Whaler sneered, but Valentina could see that happening. This place was batshit crazy already, why wouldn't a couple of sentient robots be game? The Uppersider kept that to herself, since the technology level on the boat was a hundred years behind, minimum. "Why not?", Merina kept asking, promting Cointoss to chime in, "Because it's impossible. Seen our engine? It may be slightly old, but it's about as intelligent as this" the engineer showed a fork of cooked patata "and that's that. Someone must live there that controls them! I'm sure of that!". "Controls them? How? Magicks?", Grunt raised both his eyebrows. "How should I know? Could be the gods' handicraft for all I know!", Cointoss mumbled, annoyed. "No mentioning the gods, you hear?", Whaler urged and Whitebeard nodded in agreement.
The old man mostly stayed out of the discussions. When he spoke, the Uppersider noticed that everyone quieted down and listened intently. Authority at its finest. With a very crude description of a tincan from AB-21 which can be summed up by a slightly round version of the Terminator and a quick summary of the interactions with two of the machines while unloading half of the ship's cargo, Valentina made her way back into her cabin and pushed the bulkhead shut. She needed to pee, but there was only a single bathroom on the boat, which was in high demand after dinner. Merina had told her in confidence that about an hour later she'd hose the whole thing down so it'll be usable for the finer members of the crew. Of course she had meant Cointoss, herself and now the Uppersider. A clean toilet was something she never expected to be holding in such high regard. Times changed. She fell back onto the cot and sighed, again.
***
Almost two days of nothing had passed. The only interruption of mention was a faint glow in the Black Depth. Valentina had been enjoying the fresh air, sitting on the dry metal deck, staring up into the darkness. The only light shone from the open bulkhead, everything else was pitch black. Then something fluorescent blue lit up the reeling. Something in the water was lit. She stepped closer to the edge and peered into the depths. Blue, faint candles flickered somewhere deep down. The more her eyes tried to pierce the water surface, make out the shapes and colours, the less sure she suddenly was of the shapes. The candles moved like jellyfish, drawing a mist-like smoke behind them. It was curious, very curious.
Whaler's hand ripped her from her trance as he pulled her back on deck, catching her in the last second before going overboard. "Dangerous, those ones. We call 'em sirens", he mumbled in explanation and walked back to the unmanned post on the bridge, a place she hadn't seen yet. Confused and out of breath, she fell onto her ass and grunted in pain. The fuck just happened? Very closely, almost certainly, she would've fallen into the cold ocean. Her hands rubbed repeatedly across her face, trying to wake her up. "Ah fuck!", she groaned and stared up into the darkness. The boat had made it through the siren's waters, too.
And finally the Golden Lily reached Virgin's End. Its docks were lit dimly, except the lights were more orange than red. Or maybe they were just brighter than the small lamps on their boat. They illuminated a small pier and a few buildings beyond. Those could be warehouses or offices, she guessed while standing at the bow. Grunt made the wares accessible, Whitebeard waited near where she presumed the gangplank would be attached and Merina uneasily shifted from one leg to the other behind the Captain. A firm hand on the blonde, small girl's shoulder steadied her. She couldn't be older than eighteen, tops, the Uppersider guessed and shook her head. Part of her wondered what the relationship between Whitebeard and the girl was, though it wasn't her business at all.
Whaler steered the Lily into dock and Grunt threw a rope, pulled from a hawsehole down to a fragile-looking woman who tied the knot and secured the boat in place. It was the first time Valentina realised how large the Golden Lily was. Her best estimate was roughly 50 meters long, no less, and 8 wide. Grunt pulled two large trapdoors open that lead into the storage hold of the boat. Down reached sturdy ladders. He vanished and one by one carried barrels and boxes onto deck. She couldn't lift a single one of them, so she didn't even try to help out. Her skills were useless here.
Tugged into her jacket, the Uppersider stood starboard side and glanced down at the welcome committee that slowly made its way down the slope. Petrified with horror, she held her breath and hid her mouth behind her hand. Not only was it offensive, it was criminal and cruel. Two men sat on a palanquin carried by four naked women crawling on their fours down the gravel path. Yet she couldn't bring herself to look away. And no one around her seemed to flinch. A sight they were used to, they had accepted.
"Oh, what do my old eyes see atop this beautiful vessel? A beauty to behold! My dear Whitebeard, you come bearing gifts?", a man with a huge belly bulging the pompous coat, moustache and crown stood up and carelessly stepped off the palanquin. The King Rochard himself. With a huge clank, the gangplank fell into place and Whitebeard descended onto the pier closely followed by Merina, "Thank you for trading with us, and the Free Trading Company of course, once more". "You haven't answered me, old friend. Who is that beauty up there? I want to purchase her off you. Name your price", the King spread both his arms, a huge grin on his face. "Well, majesty, I'm afraid she's but a passenger. Let us talk about the trade and news from the east!", Whitebeard's social skills were good and they walked to one of the buildings further back.
Valentina scowled at the women who were left ignored. The second man, probably an adviser, followed the Captain and King at a distance and conversed with Merina. They were too far away to eavesdrop. What a messed up place. And why didn't anyone throw this bastard into jail? Anger rose in her chest. All her self control was required to prevent an outburst and keep herself in check. Frustrated, a last glance sent toward the slaves pushed her back into her cabin, around Grunt and his cargo. On the way down Cointoss leaned against the second bulkhead and let a coin walk between her fingers. A neat magician trick, since the coin would eventually vanish somewhere. Their eyes met and the engineer sneered, "Fucking hedonistic oppressors". She sighed and nodded, "Yeah. Wish we could just drown those fuckers". The engineer grinned, threw up the coin and caught it mid air, "Soon, they will. I promise".