Hours after The Cloud Orchestra had met with Alan for the second time, Ormain stood underneath the same umbrella that Lysalya had used earlier in the day. The sun had already fallen behind the horizon, and for once the moon had brought with it an army of dark clouds to smother the sky. Rain wasn’t common on Areinis despite the massive stretches of open water which spent long days baking in the sun, but every now and then the umbrella would be used for its less common purpose.
“Not good,” he muttered, hands on his hips as he stared out into the gloom. Keeping watch at night wasn’t usually so bad if the moon was out, but tonight would prove more difficult than he would have liked it to be. Not only was the moonlight blocked by the thick and angry clouds that clumped together above them, the light sheets of rain which swirled around in the evening breeze further hampered the visibility.
If Nina and her team were going to make a break for it, tonight would be the perfect opportunity to do so.
“S’alright, aint it?” asked the man who sat beside him. Short and built like a barrel, Ormain’s new companion was the head of a small group of pirates who operated along the outer reaches of the Five Fountains. Pirate was probably a generous term considering that they usually seemed to terrorise defenceless civilians, but their collection of filthy beards, missing teeth, and penchants for booze might have just dragged them over the line. It wasn’t hard to see that they were incompetent, but you get what you pay for and there weren’t exactly a lot of volunteers lying around on short notice. They would be useful enough as meatshields at least, not that Ormain would tell them that. It was probably better if they died in the end anyway as he wouldn’t have to pay them.
“Get your men ready,” he replied, ignoring the question. It was easier to just treat idiots like idiots, and the best part was that they usually wouldn’t realise. “I want to be able to move out at a moment’s notice.”
Beishall, as the ‘pirate’ called himself, had another eight men with him. Their weapons were of poor quality from what Ormain had seen, but at least they had three small boats that would prove to be a nuisance in the water. Quick and small but low on armour, they would hopefully be able to draw their enemy’s attention until his team could do some damage themselves. Their own boats weren’t much better off when it came to defences, two slightly larger models which sat low in the water with only a minimal amount of plating. It would be enough to stop the momentum of some light arms fire, but not enough to dissipate a pulse round. Anything to take the heat off them was therefore more than welcome, and Beishall was stupid enough to provide.
The man in question frowned, but followed the orders, ducking out from the umbrella’s protection and stepping into the rain as he moved off to collect his crew. Ormain knew he couldn’t afford to say no, the money that was on offer would have dwarfed what they were used to. Fools either way, he thought. They hadn’t even asked for a down payment which could have acted as some insurance. Accidents could always happen, especially if they happened before you were paid.
“You really think they’re going to move?” Lieutenant asked. He was the only other person who currently sat under the umbrella, shielded from the rain as he stared in the direction of the island with binoculars raised to his eyes. Ormain didn’t know what the visibility was like at that distance, but it must have been enough. Lieutenant would let him know if it wasn’t, unlike Shalan who would have slacked off if given the opportunity. She had already become a problem that he would have to work around as her drinking had continued throughout the day, and the only thing that had eventually stopped her was sleep. Irritable, groggy, and probably still half drunk when she was dragged out of bed was the best he could hope for, so for now he simply crossed his fingers and hoped that they would have some more time for her to shrug it off.
“It’s an option,” he answered. “If they’re not planning on taking the fight to us, now is when they’ll break for it. Weather like this isn’t going to come around again unless they dig in, which they won’t.”
Lieutenant didn’t ask why he was so sure, instead taking his word for it as he continued to observe. Ormain was already beginning to think that maybe Artel’s death wasn’t so bad after all if he could bring Lieutenant in permanently, as squads were limited to five and this was an upgrade in almost every department. If he didn’t crack under Shalan’s constant goading, that was. The team needed a punching bag, and if they didn’t have one it was difficult for him to keep them in line. Shalan’s prematurely concluded probation was already evidence enough, although it almost certainly wouldn’t be her last either.
“Speak of the devil,” Lieutenant sighed, pulling Ormain from his thoughts. “Eyes on one ship, grey, ten to twelve meters at a guess. Heading at… around one-tenish.”
Ormain frowned at the news. Not because the boat was moving out at a poor time for them, but because he knew whose boat it was. If his guess was correct it was the arms dealer’s boat, and it was not something that he particularly wanted to get into a scrap with. Not only did he have no idea on how well it was armoured, the turret on the front would serve as a rather strong deterrent to going anywhere near their bow. Their extra hands on board would be another chip on the wrong side of the table, while he couldn’t even begin to speculate over what arms were at their disposal either.
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Not good, but it wasn’t the end of the world either. One boat versus five could be considered odds that he was happy to roll the dice with, especially considering that three of them were expendable.
“Keep your eyes on them, but also look out for a second boat,” he said before jogging out into the rain, crossing the slippery deck before pushing open the door to their resting area and clapping his hands loudly. “Get up people, it’s time to hunt.”
Ignoring the subsequent flurry of activity that resulted, he swiped his jacket off the table before throwing it over himself, clipping two submachine guns to his belt before stepping back out into the drizzle. Beishall had already assembled his group of crooks under an awning that sat just off to the side, so Ormain took the opportunity to walk over before quickly glancing at their gear. Cheap pulse pistols for the main part, but it would do. Not only would the bright rounds do a welcome job of painting targets on themselves, there was also the chance that one of them could get lucky and punch a hole through their hull.
“There are either one or two targets,” he said to Beishall. “The first is probably a dummy, a grey boat that’s about ten meters long. They’re non-combatants, so all you need to do is pull up beside them and verify that they aren’t carrying the cargo. Stick to the radio and we’ll fall in on the second ship once we’ve checked off the first.”
Beishall and his men nodded, scuttling off towards their boats as Ormain hid a smile. The grey ship moving out in this weather had quickly narrowed the possible scenarios down to three, and he was already pretty sure on which of them was correct. The first was that the arms dealer had been kicked off the island and was now leaving through no choice of his own, while the second was that he had been paid to run a distraction for the others to make their escape.
Neither was likely.
“Ready?” Lysalya asked as she appeared beside him, geared up and ready to go. Shalan trailed behind her, but the dazed expression on her face caused Ormain to frown. She’d managed to get pants on somehow, but she still wore nothing but a bikini top above it while she was also barefoot. No time to waste, however, and at least she had armed herself.
“Yeah,” he said before looking at Lieutenant. “Take Vesche and go. Stick to the radio, remember the plan.”
The third scenario, Ormain thought, was that they were all on the same boat. There was no distraction, and there would be no second boat as a result. They would all be together and armed, unfortunately, and their idea would be to simply punch through with what they had before Ormain had collected his pieces together.
“Send one over to verify the dummy,” Ormain said into a radio that he had pulled up from his hip. Beishall’s boats had already been launched and were now cruising through the swirling rain in the direction of their target, and after processing his instruction one suddenly surged ahead. The scene caused him to chuckle as he stepped into his own boat, flopping down beside Lysalya who had taken the wheel while Shalan somehow made it aboard behind them. He hadn’t even told Beishall what they were truly up against, and the fool thought they were out to steal a shipment of swordshark ivory. It wouldn’t matter if he realised that they had been deceived in the end, however, because if Ormain was correct in his earlier logic then he was about to have a pair of very angry pirate boats for partners.
Out of the three scenarios, there was a very easy way to see which was correct - send a boat over and see if it was met with a storm of bullets or not. If it wasn’t, Nina and her friends weren’t on the boat. It would actually make his life easier, which is why he thought that it was unlikely. The arms dealer would have been out the way, and he was confident that he could wait the rest of them out or simply beat them in a straight up firefight. Nina’s team was alright, but his was better. Once they left the safety of the island they would be nothing but easy prey.
If the boat was shredded before it could come close, however, well then he’d have some meatshields to help with the hunt. Shooting people’s friends tended to piss them off.
“Are you sure about this?” Lieutenant’s voice came through the radio. He was keeping a steady distance parallel to them in his own boat, Vesche sitting beside him as they cut through the shallow waves. There wasn’t a roof on either boat which left the rain free to lash down on them, but Ormain didn’t care. The hunt was on, and for once there wouldn’t be anywhere for Nina to hide.
Before he could reply, rifle fire cracked out over the open ocean from up ahead which provided his answer. Taking a pair of binoculars, he looked up to see that the first of Beishall’s boats had already been reduced to a fiery wreck, the grey boat now kicking up a spray of seawater as it angled away from them and fled. There had certainly been more than three rifles too, the boat reduced to scrap in only moments due to the sudden broadside.
“After them,” he said, lips parting to reveal a sharp set of white teeth. The hunt was on, and his smile only got wider as Lysalya opened the throttle. The nose of the boat rose up out of the water in response, and soon they were cutting through the darkness in pursuit. Beishall would be fuming at his loss, and all Ormain would have to do is radio in that they had fallen for a trap. The pirates would buy it, and Ormain would offer to hunt them down together for revenge.
What he wouldn’t tell them was that his own boats would be the only two left afloat once they were done.