"One and all to arms," Emma cried out.

The clang and crash of falling cutlery and plates rung throughout the mess. The kitchen fire was extinguished. And Hutchens and Amelia were left looking at each other as the last crew exited.

Moving out of the wheelhouse and onto the observation deck, Emma thrust out her arm, and a set of binoculars were slapped into her hand. Again, the wind beat at her, but she had neglected to wear a warm jacket. The storm clouds had parted, and a massive twin-ballooned airship was steaming right at them. Emma's body shook when her eyes fell on that ship.

"I said you would have to be twice-cursed crazy to ride your way out of that maelstrom," Sharon repeated what he'd said earlier to Emma.

"True enough. Aye, you did at that. But, no prizes for being right this time," Emma replied absent-mindedly as she scanned the area, mumbling to herself, "There has to be an out here...".

"You know, yesterday, I thought I would be alive by the end of today," Sharon mumbled into his chest herself, moving through the hallways of the ship following a Captain, it would seem, through the gates themselves.

* * *

Rio Iti positioned himself at Emma's side, handing her a coat. "Captain, how long before the Dresden is upon us?" he asked.

"Soon enough. It may be an hour or two on the outside," Sharon piped up with her estimate.

"We could run and keep pace, but the Dresden will catch us sooner or later. We get no help from the winds until the storm is on top of us." Emma joined the conversation, too loudly for the space between them.

Then, slapping Rio Iti on his back, Emma broke into a hearty laugh, and the men filling the walkway and wheelhouse breathed a little easier.

"I make any wager this day and collect tomorrow," Reo replied, slapping his own chest with both palms. Emma looked around at the men and called out to the wheelhouse.

"Get me some height. And do not let the Dresden get above us. I want to punch their nose on our terms. This will not be your last day, so stop your lollygagging. There be preparations to make," Emma said to the room.

A chorus of "Aye, Captain" followed, and the crew and her crew busied themselves.

Moving to the mapping table, Emma grabbed a leather tube from a rack below a desk sitting squarely in the middle of the wheelhouse. Popping a plug on the end of the warn leather cylinder, laying both hands on the edges of the retrieved map. Her eyes cast from top to bottom, side to side, examining the depictions of the islands, drawing a deep breath in as she lifted her hands up, the map edges curled back into a scroll.

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"Well, that is that. Only one way out for us. " She said to herself.

Turning, she moved to the locker in the corner. She opened the doors from the inside, and Emma grabbed a belt and leather scabbard. She fastened it around her waist and closed the ornately carved vine and leaves clasp before seating a long dagger with a black serpentine blade.

An ornate pattern was etched into the blade, showing a stylized hawk and a shark in its claws. The blade's edge made a sharp, satisfying scraping sound as it rubbed against the metal embellishment around the scabbard's entrance. She attached the sheath to her belt so that it rested across the small of her back, on top of her hips. Taking another deep breath, she straightened her body.

"That holster. We have a fine selection of pepper pots in the armory, or maybe one of them American colt pistols," Reo Iti suggested.

"No. I want my gun back. And he has got it," Emma pointed to the far wall of the cabin towards the Dresden.

"I am not going to get it. Not after what he did the last time we met," Reo Iti replied.

Emma looked at the man. Her second in charge was the one man she trusted to look after her ship and crew. The man who would fly into hell on her says so. And, yet, the bastard following them struck fear into even this fine Maori warrior.

"He's got forty years on me. I was hoping to collect it from his cold, sunken body when I defile his corpse," Emma replied and picked up the apple from the table and took a loud, crunching bite.

* * *

"We are flying high and hard, but he is still gaining on us. Below us, Sharon has his top under our belly. He can't climb as high as us in that behemoth. What if we drop down onto his balloon and well?" Reo gestured with his right palm resting on the back of his left hand and lifted an eyebrow.

"What! You know the rules. Hundreds, maybe thousands of small ones, in each of the big balloons. They just need to keep the main bolloon intact. We don't have the firepower to stay in a prolonged fight." Emma replied.

"There is nothing else for it. So we fly the flag and try and talk our way out of it," Emma replied.

"Not many onboard would say that that is the sanest of things to do, Cap'n, with respect. We could fly right over the top of him and into the storm to try and lose that bastard in there," Reo Iti tilted his head and smiled slightly.

"We are not as big as the Dresden. We would not last more than a few hours before the storm would tear the balloon in half, and then we'd be done for, and you know it," Emma replied.

"Cap'n, what I know is that that mad man over there, if he catches us, will kill, beat, cut on, disfigure, break bones, and/or disembowel us. And, for each of us, he will do so in delightfully random orders. Just to keep himself amused. So I say we take a chance and run with the weather. We ran before when the odds weren't so favorable," Reo Iti pleaded.

Emma paced the room. Looking at him, she circled behind Reo and placed both hands on his shoulders before continuing around the table. When she returned to the other side of it, she looked back at him, removed the cork from the speaking tube, blew, and waited.

"Aye, Captain. Orders?" came a voice.

"Keep us high and run for the storm. Angle around. Get in and then drop towards the ocean. Hopefully, they'll keep going," Emma said calmly.

"Aye, Captain. High around and run for chance and the tempest," replied the voice.