You unclip yourself and rush forward. You’re no longer taking fire, but the Invictus is shuddering with the death throws of her engines. Each motion threatens to toss you overboard.

The bridge is in chaos, instruments and broken glass littering the floor. All the crew have fled save for the captain, who still stands rigidly at the wheel. He doesn’t turn when you enter. A length of brass pipe, no doubt torn from the steam network, sticks out neatly through the middle of his back.

You are the only one left alive on the Invictus.

You lift the thin chain he wears over his head, key dangling at the end of it. Fingers trembling, you set in the safe at the back of the bridge. The heavy iron door creaks open. Inside rest the logbooks, charts, maps, letters; everything that could tell the pirates what you’ve been about. Just then, the engines let out a particularly violent shudder and papers spill from the safe, caught in the wind seeping in from the broken windows.

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Blast!

You snatch up everything in easy reach, rush out to the railing, and hurl them into space. Let the pirates try to recover anything from the ocean! Back inside, you snatch an armful of documents from the air and floor, then return to jettison them.

One more trip. You’re on your knees, tugging at a map caught between two pipes, when the sound of boots makes you look up. A dark, grinning form stands above you, and a moment later the handle of a cutlass collides with your skull.

Blackness descends. A huge door looms before you.