Sasha groaned. Another night of blinding pain. Another day of dreading the coming night. He tried to sit up and was rewarded with a wave of dizziness that sent him horizontal. The back of his head was aching, but something about this pain was different from the usual nightly occurrences. Laying there trying to center himself, he puzzled out the source of his lingering headache.

“I think I hit my head,” he commented to himself. In response, a familiar moan from his gamal echoed off bare walls. He concentrated and tried to recall the previous day’s events. The sand… the storm… the… cave!

It all came back to him. Cannibals! He jolted upward again, this time fighting off spinning vision until he was centered. Looking around, he remembered the artificial entrance to the cave. Only one type of people lived underground, and he was pretty sure he recognized the symbols.

Sasha’s heart quickened. Grogginess was replaced by a sense of painful alert. The heavy thudding in his chest synced with the pulsing pain in the back of his head. He took inventory of the space around him. It was a cavern, definitely. Very unlike a cavern though, it was... shaped.

The roof and floor were perfectly flat and straight. Along the walls, a strange transparent crystal, or glass, he thought, ran straight into the darkness of the passage. He turned around. Down the opposite end of the hallway, a faint orange light flooded in from the outside world.

The silhouette of his gamal was black against the morning light. It was grazing upon something on the passage floor. Mushrooms, he guessed. It appeared to be perfectly content in what it was doing, so Sasha turned back to the dark end of the hallway.

“Perhaps not cannibals,” he whispered to the dark. Cannibals lived in natural caves. They scratched a living raiding unfortunate trade convoys in the north and occasionally deep in the dune sea. That’s another thing, he thought. What is a cave doing in the middle of the deep desert? His curiosity was stronger than his fear. Deeper into the cave was the only way to answer his questions.

He began.

***

“General, wait! A moment of your time please!” Vachir recognized the voice of Governor Shera Lin.

Next to him, Sandra Mason was tying down the last of the rigging. Their airship was nearly prepared to cast off. Leaning over to Vachir she whispered, “Ten coins if you work ‘I told you so’ into the conversation.”

Vachir chuckled and replied, “That wouldn’t be very grown up of me, Sandra.”

They both tried to hide their smiles as the Governor approached. A somewhat portly woman in her forties, she was obviously not accustomed to physical activity. She panted as she stepped wearily onto the deck. Beads of sweat matted her black-greying hair.

“General, you *pant* can’t leave yet. *pant* You’ll be needed *pant* here soon.” The governor leaned over and grabbed her knees, trying to catch her breath.

From the forecastle, Jim and Alia emerged and made their way over to the group.

After taking a few moments to catch her breath, the governor righted herself and tried again, “General, as of now, this dock is closed to civilian traffic. Article twenty two of the League charter states that, ‘in wartime, all League civilian vessels may be called upon to serve a military role in defense of their nation.’”

As if to emphasize her point, a pair of league guards marched up the stairway to their ship berth. Their rifles were slung behind their backs, but Vachir spotted a hint of stiffness in their gait.

Alia, who had been listening nearby, stepped in. “Governor,” she replied, “we have no intention of sticking around. We’ve been warning you and the others for months. We told you this would happen and, you know what we got? Laughed out of every government office more times than I care to count.”

“So, the war you wanted has finally come and you choose to abandon us?” the governor asked.

“No,” came Alia’s reply, “I’m not that vindictive.” Jim prodded her with an unbelieving glance. He was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs. She continued, “However, we have people all over northern Ruin finding awakened potentials and bringing them to the safety of our hidden refuge. Our first duty is to bring them home.”

“Besides,” Vachir interjected, “You and the ambassador did say, I am a… what did you call it? ‘Non-citizen’ I believe were his exact words. Frankly, we have no obligation to you or anyone else.” Sandra glanced at Vachir, waiting for him to utter the words that would find her out of ten black coins but, he held his tongue.

The guards finally reached the deck. Although in considerably better shape than the governor, their quick flight had also left them breathing heavily and sweating under the hot sun.

Governor Lin sighed, “Yes, I believe he did, General. You can go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?” Vachir asked.

“I told you so,” the governor replied.

Sandra glanced at Vachir, careful to hide her grin. “That doesn’t count,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Vachir, quite familiar in dealing with politicians and stuffy armchair generals, was an immovable rock of calm.

“Now’s not the time for that,” he replied dryly.

Sandra let out a sigh, catching the Governor’s attention. Vachir glared.

The governor continued, “I know you have no obligation to me or the Unaligned League. However, I -”

“Wait, wait! Don’t leave yet!” a voice interrupted from the ship berth below.

Alia rolled her eyes and mumbled, “The Prophetess does exactly what we’ve been warning everyone about for months and suddenly, we’re the most popular people around.”

Ambassador Fredrickson emerged from below and made his way up the gangway. Like the governor before him, he was panting from an apparent sprint. His face was the trademark pasty white of every Protectorate citizen. Even when they weren’t exerting themselves, they appeared layered in a thin sheen of perspiration.

The ambassador approached the group and took a moment to catch his breath.

Jim commented, “Governor, if you and others like you are going to make a habit of running up these air berths, you should consider installing a lift.” Alia didn’t bother to suppress her laughter. Vachir and Sandra didn’t fare much better.

Alia crossed her arms and asked, “So Ambassador, how can the suddenly important Liberator and his faithful crew assist you today? I don’t suppose the Protectorate is at war now too?” The assembled crew chuckled.

“Yes..well maybe...or probably. I’m not sure actually. That’s why I’m here.”

Surprise washed over each of their faces as they realized, he wasn’t joking. “Wait, what?” Jim asked.

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“I’ve just received word from our embassy in the Alliance capital of Trest. Before they were silenced, they reported that Alliance soldiers had breached the embassy walls and were placing our citizens under house arrest,” he replied.

“Wait wait wait,” Alia held up a hand. “How could you possibly have just received word? It would take the fastest airship days to cross from Trest to here. Last I checked, aside from the League ship that came in earlier, none have docked recently.”

“We have...technological means of expediting communications from one place to another,” he replied with a practiced response.

“And naturally,” Sandra replied dryly, “You don’t wish to share said technology with the rest of the world.”

Fredrickson ignored her remark and continued, “I have confirmed with my government that, the Prophetess’ and Alliance forces were turned back about fifty kilometers east of Shining.” He turned to the governor and added, “We intercepted and halted the advance of a very large force of air and landships bound for Freeport.”

The governor’s face went white. She replied, “Then, we have you to thank for our continued freedom. But, why? I thought the Protectorate preferred neutrality and non-interference. Not that I am not deeply grateful for the gesture of friendship from our southern neighbors.”

The ambassador waved away the governor’s posturing, “Yes. And, we maintain that stance. However, we will not allow the armies of any empire pass through our territory. Our open borders policy does not extend to machines of war. If the Alliance wants Freeport badly enough, it can traverse the western wastes, through cannibal territory.”

A chill went up Jim’s spine. He’d encountered cannibals on more than one occasion. They were beyond violent to the point of absolute insanity. There was no negotiating or bargaining with them. They wanted only one thing. Flesh.

Some traders, trying to find a quicker route between Trest and Freeport had ventured into cannibal territory. Few lived to tell of it.

“I don’t think being forced to move through cannibal territory will sit very well with the Prophetess,” Jim commented.

“Indeed it won’t, and it hasn’t,” Fredrickson replied. “That’s why I’ve come to ask for your help. Ambassador Holin, our representative in the Alliance capital of Trest has been placed under house arrest.”

Sighing, he added, “Although our military is significantly more advanced, we are not...equipped to mount a rescue operation without sparking an incident that will lead to all out war. That’s why I’ve come. To ask you for a favor.”

Sandra was the first to respond, “Ambassador, I’m not sure what rumors you’ve been privy to but, we’re not equipped to ‘mount a rescue mission’ as you say. The Liberator is a good ship, but Trest is the capital of the entire Alliance. The city is armed to the teeth. Not to mention, the invasion group is likely billeted up within its walls, licking their wounded egos after being denied passage through your lands.”

Ambassador Fredrickson glanced at the governor before he replied, “Yes, such an attempt would be suicide. However, I have a somewhat… unconventional mean of entering Trest that presents zero risk to you.”

“Nothing is ever zero risk. What’s in it for us?” Alia asked dryly. Sandra and Vachir both nodded. Over the past months, the ex military “by the books” duo had adjusted quite well to a life of piracy and opportunism.

Fredrickson smiled. His perfect teeth looked strange behind thin, pasty lips. “Entrance into the research city of Mountain’s Breath,” he replied. “That is what you have been trying to do for months, am I right?”

Alia smiled. “Throw in a couple thousand coin and you’ve got yourself a deal, ambassador.”

Fredrickson pondered for a moment. Finally, he nodded and replied, “Deal. Now, with your permission, shall we head to the planning room and prepare a rescue plan?”

As they made their way to the aft porthole, Vachir leaned toward Fredrickson and commented, “Oh by the way ambassador, I told you so.”

Sandra Mason was out ten coins.

***

“You’re joking. Please tell me, you’re joking, because the only alternative is that you’re insane,” Henry exclaimed. Next to him, Jim and Ambassador Fredrickson watched as the craft surfaced from beneath the water.

The dark and abandoned floating warehouse was certainly an unlikely place to hide one of the Protectorate’s technological wonders. At the south end of Freeport, the steadily bobbing structure looked like just another ill kept old maritime storage facility. Two League soldiers, disguised as common fishermen, poles and all, stood guard outside at all times.

Giant white bubbles of warm humid air erupted all around the emerging craft as it recycled its trapped atmosphere for a fresh intake. To Jim, the function of such a machine was impossible.

Measuring at least a hundred and fifty meters long and made of what Jim could only describe to himself as “purple glass,” the craft was a mix of beautiful and ridiculous. The hull was completely transparent. Inside, he could see people walking around and performing various tasks similar to the crew on a typical landship.

One man manipulated the controls near the bow of the cigar shaped vessel. Jim guessed the man was the captain or pilot. Other men lifted unmarked wooden crates from near the center of the vessel while more wandered around other areas. What really caught his eye though were the pairs of elongated ovals that protruded from the ship.

There were two on the top and two on the bottom - one fore and one aft. Sitting in strangely curved seats that were suspended on metallic poles from the ceilings of each bubble, the occupants wore strange goggles with wires protruding from them. The wires ran into larger wire bundles that traversed the length of the inner hull. Every few meters, the wires would connect to large square shaped lights.

Jim spotted small quad barrels protruding about thirty centimeters from the bubbles. Connected to each were more unusual looking strings and wires.

He tried to focus on the light sources that lined the hull, but they were too bright. Something was illuminating the entire transparent vessel from the inside. He had a feeling, it wasn’t fire. The familiar hum of ether cube machinery vibrated the parting water around the craft.

“There is no way in hell I am going into that...death trap,” Henry exclaimed. Jim thought he caught a hint of fear in his clockwork friend’s voice. Ambassador Fredrickson smiled mischievously. The man was not particularly friendly. He snorted with amusement at Henry’s concern.

The rising ship came to a stop with steady hiss. A door seemed to appear out of nowhere as a section of bulkhead near what was likely the cargo bay lowered into a ramp. The men handling the boxes began to unload them onto the nearby platform.

Henry rolled forward and backward as the floating platform bobbed under the weight of the loading crew. Still smiling, Fredrickson asked, “In what way is this thing a ‘death trap’ if I may ask?”

Henry was shaking. Jim was pretty sure he was trying to hide it but, the metallic nature of his voice betrayed him. “First off, I don’t know what a sumbersable is but-”

“Submersible,” Fredrickson corrected him.

“Sure, fine, “Henry replied before continuing, “I don’t know what that is but, the thing is made of glass. Perhaps you haven’t noticed but, I’m made of brass, steel, and any number of other very heavy, very hard substances. I’d shatter that thing just bending over to tie my shoes.”

“I’d like to see how you wear shoes.” Jim commented.

Henry tried to roll his eyes, but the limits of his mechanisms failed him again. Fredrickson chortled as Henry continued, “And another thing. It goes underwater. Water and clockwork men do not mix very well. Again, I’m made of metal.”

Jim nodded, “He’s got a point there. I’ve had to do some crazy things in my lifetime, but going underwater in a glass container is a bit beyond my uh… thrill threshold.”

Fredrickson chuckled again and shook his head, “You have nothing to fear, boys.” Jim caught a condescending tone in the ambassador’s last word. “You see, this ship isn’t made of glass. It’s comprised mostly of black crystal and a few other elements that I’m not permitted to describe to you.”

Jim stared at the ambassador in shock. This much black crystal could be worth...a small city, he thought. It was enough to make him and everyone on The Liberator rich beyond imagination. But, how could it possibly be black crystal? The stuff usually dissolves in-

“Impossible,” Henry interrupted Jim’s thoughts. “Black crystal dissolves in water. It’s how the Liberator and other airships get their lift steam. Even in cold water, this thing would corrode away in a matter of days.”

The ambassador’s voice held a tinge of impatience as he replied, “I would love to discuss the finer points of black crystal refining and material composition but, I’m afraid we’re pressed for time here.”

“Young man, Jim was it?” he asked, pointing at Jim. “Can I borrow your pistol for a moment?”

Over the months since he had joined the Liberator, Jim had upgraded from his single shot dueling pistol to an eight chamber hammer design. Being an enemy of the Alliance meant, he wasn’t constrained to the more ridiculous civilian weapons laws that traders in their territory were subject to.

Jim pulled the weapon from under his coat and handed it to the ambassador.

Fredrickson’s humor returned. He smiled and added, “Don’t worry my boy, I know how to handle a firearm.” Again, the condescension in his voice irked Jim. Glancing at Henry, he could see, his friend also seemed unhappy.

Turning back toward the submersible, Fredrickson leveled the pistol and fired. The shot rang out in the large floating warehouse. The suddenness of it caused Jim and Henry to jump.

Jim’s ears were still ringing as the ambassador handed him back his smoking weapon. “You will notice, gentlemen, the ship is undamaged,” he noted with the same off-humor that was quickly lowering Jim’s opinion of him. He suspected that Fredrickson took far too much pleasure in knowing things that others didn’t.

To emphasize his point, Fredrickson pointed at a small beam of sunlight piercing through a new bullet hole in the decaying roof. Henry let out a mechanical whistle. It sounded more like a tea kettle that had been forgotten too long on the burner.

Receiving no argument, the ambassador continued, “As for being underwater, you see those crates there?” He pointed to the growing pile of cargo still being unloaded by the two sailors. Jim nodded.

“Those are full of ether cubes. Blue ether cubes. As well as a significant amount of unrefined crystal. Both of course, can not survive in water.” Henry immediately straightened. Jim too was surprised.

The only known source of blue ether cubes was deep in the heart of the Holy Land. The Prophetess used them in the construction of her many clockwork slaves. Long ago, Henry had been one of them.

Henry rolled over to the nearest crate and placed a hand on its unmarked surface. Turning back to the group, he exclaimed, “But, how? I thought these were only found in the mines around Golden Spire.”

“Tell you what,” the ambassador replied. “I will explain everything onboard, but we really must get going.” He turned to the cargo haulers and ordered, “Leave the crates outside with the guards. They know what to do.”

He turned back and cross his arms. “Well? What will it be, gentlemen?”

Henry hesitated another moment before gingerly rolling up the ramp of the submersible and descending below. Jim could hear him mumbling as he rolled into the ship, “Damn my curiosity. I swear it’s going to kill me one of these days.”

Fredrickson followed behind. Jim was still nervous but, he’d heard more than a few stories of Protectorate technological marvels. He’d dismissed them all as common superstitious talk, but standing in front of a completely transparent submersible ship with many enticing curiosities broke those assumptions.

Jim could almost hear Alia’s voice as he remembered a conversation they’d had in the mess hall a few months earlier. “You know, Jim,” she’d said, “The greatest adventures usually start with the words ‘what the hell.’”

He already missed Alia. Surprisingly, she had opted not to argue with him when he insisted she stay with The Liberator. As promised, she would not be placing herself into any more unnecessary danger until after the children were born.

At that moment, the Liberator was undocking with the rest of its crew. They had agreed to a compromise with the governor of Freeport. In exchange for their freedom of movement in League territory during wartime, they would come to the aid of any League vessel in distress.

Also, the governor placed a lucrative privateer contract on the negotiating table. One thousand coins for each landship destroyed. Five thousand for each airship. Double that for capturing one intact. Judging by the look on Alia’s face, Jim was sure she was holding back a loud “WOOHOO.”

Jim turned his attention back to the odd contraption bobbing in the water. Finally, he shrugged and turned to enter the impossible ship. As he walked through its clear entranceway, he echoed Alia’s words, “Ahhh, what the hell.”