In the Year of the Father Above 1014, the Great War began. The nations of the world rose up against each other over the death of a minor noble, decades-long tensions bursting forth in a horrendous, bloody affair that cost the lives of millions of men, women, and children. Alliances changed frequently, and by the end, only one nation that participated in the conflict was left unruined.

Now, in the Year of the Father Above 1024, five years after the end of the war, the United Provinces of Losan, whose shores were left mostly untouched by the violence, has risen up as the global hegemon, a shining center of industry and culture exported around the world. As the world recovers, it’s a time of booming, decadent culture. It is a time of science. It is a time of—

“Blah BLAH blah blah blah…” she interrupted, blowing a cloud of smoke before sticking the expensive Zacanudo cigar back in her mouth.

Kicking her feet up with a splash in an ornately decorated golden bathtub, a merwoman relaxed and puffed on her cigar again. Standing eight feet tall and appearing to be in her late forties (though, surprisingly, years of chain smoking didn’t mar her beauty), she blew smoke and adjusted her tie. Her perfectly-tailored dark purple pinstripe suit matched her dark purple hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and complemented her lavender skin tone and gills on her neck, along with her long, fishy tail poking out the back of her pants..

Around her, carrying the tub like a palanquin, were four men of around six feet in height sporting buzzcuts and their own expensive cigars. They were all clad in black vests with gray shirts, red ties, and black pants. They were also each equipped with a handgun at their right hips.

The group rested together on the deck of a large airship: a dirigible bearing the mark of Smoky Mart on each side of the balloon (an image of the large woman’s smiling face with a lit cigar behind it). All the while, men of the various known races (human, merfolk, corvifolk, and aquilafolk) dressed in similar garb to the tub-bearers milled about, going about their business.

The large woman craned her head around to the tub bearer behind and to the left of her, asking “why are you telling me this… uh… what’s your name again?”

“Duon, ma’am,” the subordinate replied, puffing on his own cigar. “I’m telling you this because we could use some entertainment on our—“

“Shush,” the large woman interjected. “First, if I wanted entertainment, I’d turn on the radio. Second, it’s history we were all around for! You clowns fought in the war! And third, cut it with that ‘year of the Father Above’ crap. It’s a time of science! Everyone worth their losas knows that ‘Serenicus’ and His supposed Father Above don’t exist. It’s just superstition to keep people in line. It’s completely impossible to master Aether to the point you can harness more than a single potentia. It's the year 1024 of the modern era.”

She flicked ash off her cigar, and concluded with “you got that? We got real losas to make on REAL adventures. None of this religion crap. Do you got that, uh…?”

“Duon.”

“Duke. Be a good tub bearer and keep your mouth shut unless it’s for something important. I don’t pay you for story time. Capisce?”

—

The grand airship, the Humo Robinson, sailed through the skies over the United Provinces, looking for a town to pick up supplies or, even better, a location for a new Smoky Mart. Or, even better than that, new adventure opportunities. The Robinson’s massive envelope, reminiscent of a streamlined whale, was bigger than a Great War era Dammerung zeppelin, and the gondola housed multiple decks visible through large, round windows that dotted its sides like eyes. Propelled by twin engines that hummed with a steady, reassuring drone, it was outfitted with elegant balconies and ornate railings. At night, the airship was a sight to behold, with soft lights outlining its frame, casting a gentle glow against the dark sky.

Smoker Enterprises, which owns the Smoky Mart brand, was founded in the underwater Piscomare Kingdom some thirty years ago by its CEO, Shaska, known as Shaska “the Greedy” or Shaska “the Squeeze”. Smoky Marts are a chain of mega marts found throughout the world, over a hundred locations in the land, sea, and air, selling everything from clothes, to food, to weapons.

The Smoky Merchants were infamous the world over. It wasn’t just their deadpan sarcasm that annoyed the locals—though that was part of it—it was the fact that they could knock a man out cold while still puffing on a cigar. Aether manipulation did wonders for business.

—

The Smoky Merchant serving as lookout looked down over the deck through a telescope. In the distance was a large lake with a decently sized island in the center, and on the island, a similarly decent sized town. Fortunately, there was enough space for an airship the size of the Robinson to land comfortably.

“Oh. Land,” he said with the company’s trademark but oft inappropriate air of sarcasm. He then puffed on his cigar and blew smoke.

“Hey, you!” he called to another Smoky Merchant. “Go tell the boss there’s a settlement not too far from here!”

“Oh. An order,” the other man replied dryly before heading into the back part of the ship’s gondola to where his boss was lounging.

“Miss Shaska! There’s a town dead ahead!” he called, pounding on his boss’s door.

“‘Bout time,” Shaska said, blowing smoke. “I can finally give my legs a stretch,” she added, sitting up and stretching her arms.

“But, boss, we always carr–” began another one of the tub bearers.

“Shshsh…” Shaska interrupted. “Important matters only, uh…”

“Unus.”

“Unit, any further outbursts like that, and your pay will be docked for the day, capisce?”

“Yes, ma’am…”

Despite being carried around in a giant tub of water, it’s not like Shaska had trouble walking; merfolk may be more adept at swimming than walking, but they can still walk and run and do any sort of maneuvering on land just fine.

Above all, she was just content with the luxury her massive fortune provided her, meaning she could have her employees (Unus, Duon, Tres, and Bob) carry her around in a tub despite her ability to walk and swim just fine.

—

Out from the still waters of Lake Testudo and onto the shore of the island crawled a turtle. Not just any turtle though, a blue turtle, with the most brilliant sapphire for a shell. Just as the turtle finished laying her eggs, though, it was snatched up by a burly man covered in tattoos in a torn up shirt.

“Oi, mates! I got one!” he called out to his buddies.

This is the story of how the greedy and self-centered Shaska liberated Blue Turtle Island and the small town of Zenya from a band of slaver bandits.

—

The Humo Robinson landed at midday. Blue Turtle Island was a quaint island, rather nice if one was unaware of the current happenings of the island and in the town of Zenya: bright green foliage and a gentle breeze blowing over the rolling hills.

Of about thirty crew members, only seven disembarked from the Robinson. Shaska herself sat back in the gondola’s promenade, sipping on a glass of wine she had acquired from overseas and smuggled in, as alcohol is outlawed in the Provinces, all the while smoking her premium cigar, letting her underlings do some exploring to go to the town and procure supplies.

Three hours passed, but the party didn’t return.

Shaska puffed on her cigar. “What’s taking them so long? I’m starving and we’re basically out of food. And I really don’t feel like doing any hunting. Who knows what kind of monsters could be here?”

“Boss, you’re pretty tough, I’m sure whatever monsters are on this island are–” Unus tried to say. He was promptly interrupted.

“Shush. Strength’s not the issue here. The problem is, nothing on this island’s big enough to satisfy me,” she said, cracking her neck before blowing smoke again.

She sat up, annoyed. “Look alive, bozos,” she said to her tub bearers. “We’re gonna check this out ourselves.”

“But why?” asked Tres sarcastically. “Don’t you wanna send a few more of us out there to die?”

Shaska smacked Tres, growling “I don’t take that kind of back talk from my kids, and I certainly won’t take it from one of my employees. We’re gonna see what’s on this island. Hopefully there’s a restaurant.”

“And besides,” she continued. “My least favorite part of being an adventure capitalist is calling the grieving families of dead employees. Grieving families aren’t my strong point. Let’s go, boys!”

The four Smoky Merchants hoisted her tub onto their shoulders and disembarked from the zeppelin.

—

Sure enough, beyond a grove, lay the town of Zenya. The buildings were rather plain in their architecture, none of them going beyond three stories in height (a large departure from the skyscrapers of cities like Gokashi and Manha). There were the normal trappings of a small town: a small bank, a general store, and, as this was a rather rural town, unconnected from the modernity of the big cities, a Serenist temple. The pavement was brand new, having been put down only within the past few years. Notably, though, were what seemed to be missing decorations, and, even more notably, the lack of any people. The people were few and far between; the streets were lined with empty cars and horses just wandering around, and people that were present had looks of dread on their faces.

As the Smoky Merchants and Shaska made their way through, they overheard a small smattering of the townsfolk talking.

“Hey, look, they look like those guys from before… except…”

“Is that a real merwoman? She’s so pretty…”

“Why are they carrying her like that?”

“Must be their leader.”

“But why would they be led by one of those damn scalies?”

“Got something to say, you should say it to my face, you bastards,” Shaska muttered, resting her head on her fist. She wasn’t particularly bothered by it; she was quite used to anti-fish person racism as the only merfolk CEO in the world.

“Hey, jerks!” Shaska called out, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip. “Where’s the nearest place to get food? We’re starving over here.”

“Well, there’s a little speakeasy steakhouse a little ways down the road, but…”

“Perfect. Let’s go, I could go for a steak and some booze,” Shaska said. She pointed forward, and the Smoky Merchants hurried down the street.

The Smoky Merchants hurried down the road, Shaska pointing the way. As they moved, another whisper caught her ear.

“Ooh… I hate to see a beautiful woman running with bandits…”

“Who cares? She’s just a fish.”

Shaska smirked, blowing a cloud of smoke. “You’re damn right I am.”

—

The party made it to the speakeasy. It was a rather plain building, with the only thing noting it as any sort of food establishment being the large sign on top reading “ROXANDY’S”. Unfortunately, the door wasn’t big enough for the Smoky Merchants to carry Shaska through.

“Ugh, whatever,” she said. “Put me down. Guess I really am going to have to give the legs a stretch.”

The men obliged. Shaska climbed out of the tub and ducked her large frame through the door, followed close behind by her employees.

The air inside was thick with the smell of stale beer and sweat. The room buzzed with rough laughter and crude jokes, all coming from burly men covered in tattoos. Not one of them noticed Shaska as she stepped in, their focus on their drinks and their noise too loud for her entrance to register. Behind the bar was a rather dejected looking woman in her mid-twenties with long, sherry brown hair wearing a sleeveless light blue blouse and a dark blue, knee length skirt nursing a beer. She seemed to be chained to the bar. She looked up to see Shaska and company, and the sight of non-bandits made her face brighten a tiny bit.

“Oi, bar wench! Anotha round!” called one of the men, and her expression soured again.

“Yeah, yeah…” she grumbled, pouring several more pints of beer.

Shaska and her men made it to the bar. As they puffed on their cigars, the bartender sighed and said “this is a non-smoking establish–oh, who cares anymore? What can I get for you?”

“Five pints of beer and some steak,” Shaska replied. “This is a bar and grill, yeah?”

The bartender winced. “Well… I can get you the beer…” she said, pouring the glasses. “But the steak… the steak…” her eyes began to well up with tears, but she managed to hold it back. “Our chef is indisposed right now,” the bartender said calmly.

“Let me guess,” said Bob the Smoky Merchant. “Your husband is the chef and these bandits have something to do with him not being here.”

Both Shaska and the bartender’s eyes shot open. “How did you…” they said in unison.

“You have tan lines where a pendant and a wedding ring would be,” Bob surmised. “If I had to guess, these bandits killed your husband, stole your jewelry, maybe had their wa–”

“That’s enough!” Shaska shouted. “Don’t say anything stupid!”

The bartender couldn’t hold it back anymore and burst into tears. “ANDY! Andy, why?!” she cried, sobbing into her hands. Shaska shot a glare at Bob. The bartender cried her husband’s name for a few moments before finally regaining her composure, albeit still sniffling.

“My… My name is Roxanne. My husband’s name is Andy. A week or two ago these bandits showed up and stole our valuables. They made themselves right at home. Our police were overwhelmed, and when we tried to call the feds, they ripped all the telephones out of the walls and destroyed our radios. And then, over time… citizens of the town just started disappearing without a trace.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I have no idea where they went… but Andy has to be one of them. Despite my warnings about how it was just a ring and a pendant, and how he can’t fight at all, Andy went out searching for the bandits’ treasure stash anyway. And he never came back… that was a few days ago…”

“Bandit treasure, you say?” asked Shaska. Her eyes somehow morphed into losa signs (an L with a horizontal line through it).

“Miss Shaska, what are you thinking?” asked Unus.

“I’m thinking we’ve got some bandit ass to kick,” she replied.

“You’re going to save my Andy?” Roxanne asked, eyes beaming with hope.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s long dead,” Shaska answered bluntly, not even blinking. Roxanne started tearing up again. “But I can at least get your jewelry back.”

Roxanne had tears streaming down her face. “Look, I’m not good at the whole ‘grieving family’ thing,” Shaska said, blowing smoke.

“It’s not that,” Roxanne replied, sniffling. “I’m just so touched that a complete stranger would risk her life just for me.

Shaska blinked, unsure how to respond. “Right…” she mumbled, turning away from Roxanne’s tear-streaked face. She shot a quick look at her subordinates, who suddenly found the floor very interesting.

“Look, I’m trying to find some lost employees as well. I think they might be at the same place as your husband. Assuming that place isn’t six feet under,” she said.

“Employees?” Roxanne asked.

“Yes?”

“But… you’re a woman… a merwoman at that… and you’re dressed so fanc–” Roxanne tried to say, but she was quickly interrupted.

“You ever heard of Smoky Mart?” Shaska asked.

“No…”

“Hm… we’ll have to fix that at some point then,” the merwoman mused. “Anyway, do you happen to know where the bandit leader is?”

“He holed himself up in the mayor’s office,” Roxanne replied. “Be careful. I’ve heard the gangsters talking about their boss, Varney. He’s got a potentia ability. You know, those magic powers that power the big cities? He can do that. I don’t know what his specific potentia is, though. You need to be prepared for anything.”

“No such thing as magic. It’s just Aether manipulation. Science,” Shaska replied. “But thanks for the advice,” Shaska replied.

“Oi, mate! Is dat a merwoman?!” called one of the bandits. They all turned to the bar.

“A fit bird like her could sell for a king’s ransom!” exclaimed another bandit.

“Hm… I’m guessing these guys are slavers, then…” Shaska muttered. “Don’t care too much for slavers… Alright, boys. Earn your keep. Take out the trash.”

“Right!” The Smoky Merchants exclaimed in unison, drawing their guns.

“Please don’t fight in my bar…” Roxanne peeped to no avail. The bullets began flying, and she quickly ducked under the bar to avoid them. The bandits swarmed the bar, brandishing all sorts of weapons: knives, guns, swords, axes, the works. But this was nothing to the Smoky Merchants; given the chaos of the world after the Great War, ruffians were wont to steal from Smoky Marts all the time, and Smoky Merchants had to be prepared.

The bandits didn’t stand a chance. After a few minutes, they were all incapacitated, most dead, while the Smoky Merchants had nary a scratch on them.

“Good job, men. You four are getting bonuses this pay period,” said Shaska. Roxanne peeked her head up from behind the bar, then stared in disbelief at the carnage; she was the one who would have to clean up the mess, after all.

Shaska strode over to one of the groaning bandits, hauling him up by the collar. She took a long drag from her cigar, blowing smoke into his face. “You’re coming with us,” she said coolly, her grip like iron.

—

The Smoky Merchants stood outside the city hall and set down Shaska’s tub again. The captured bandit meekly turned to the Smoky Merchants and Shaska, then sheepishly turned to the door and knocked.

“Oi, wot’s da password?” came a voice from the other side.

“P-potatoes…” muttered the captured bandit.

The door creaked open—just enough for the guard to peek out—when Shaska’s fist rocketed forward. The punch sent the bandit flying through the building, crashing through walls until he landed, unconscious, in the mayor’s office. Shaska dropped the bandit she was carrying and began making her way through the building.

Sure enough, in the mayor’s office there was a big pile of treasure, including numerous sapphire turtle shells. The walls were lined with what appeared to be birthday presents. Her eyes turned back to losa signs and a massive grin plastered itself on her face as she walked toward the treasure.

Sitting behind the desk was Varney, a large man with a bandana on his head and a scar running down his face to his long, blond beard. He was sitting with a dumbfounded look on his face, holding a phone receiver in his hand.

“Hello? Hello??” called the voice on the other line.

“I’ll call you back, Andre. I ‘ave a guest.”

Varney hung up the receiver and pulled out a handgun, focusing it on Shaska. “I know you! Yer dat bounty hunta! Shaska!!”

Shaska turned to Varney, and her eyes turned back to normal as she flicked ash off her cigar. Soon after, her subordinates filed into the room, still carrying the tub, though they promptly set it down and drew their own guns.

“Oh. A bandit leader,” said Unus, sarcastically.

“Wot in da Fadder Above’s green Caldris’re you doin’ here?!” shouted an incredulous Varney, his gun hand shaking slightly.

“We’re businesspeople, doing business,” Shaska calmly replied, adjusting her tie. “What’s the deal with your accent, anyway? You one of them foreigners that formed a gang?”

Shaska shook her head, then continued with “look, right now, I’m looking for my employees. They’re dressed like these guys right here.”

The other four raised their guns at Varney. “No lying,” said Shaska.

Varney just scoffed and held out his other hand. “You tink you can scare me?! I’m da great Varney! No scalie bird can beat me! Ova tirty thousand losas for my ‘ead!”

In a flash, colorful wrapping paper burst from Varney’s free hand, swirling around the Smoky Merchants. Before they could pull the triggers, the paper bound them tight, transforming them into perfectly wrapped presents, each one neatly placed beside the others lining the walls.

“Das the powa of me potentia, Natalis Donum! I turn people into presents so I can sell dem to slavery easier! An’ I’m sellin’ dis whole town to slavers afta we’re done pillagin’!

“An’ a fit bird like you will make a fine wife for some fancy pants business mogul or foreign king!”

“Ugh, slavery,” Shaska thought aloud. “I don’t really care for slavers. Or marriage. How much did you say your bounty was again?”

“Tirty two thousand losas!”

“Chump change. I’ll make this quick, then,” Shaska responded. She touched two fingers to her forehead, and water from the tub flew toward her and began swirling around her fingers. “Allow me to show you my potentia, Aqua Bulla.”

“‘U are you callin’ ‘chump change’?!” Varney shouted. He shot at Shaska, but as soon as the bang of the gun went off, her hand rocketed outward, and she effortlessly snatched the bullet out of the air with her free hand before it could hit her, all the while the water around her fingers swirled faster and faster.

“Wot da?!”

With a flick of her wrist, water surged from Shaska’s fingers, swirling into twin streams that twisted together like a drill. The high-pressure jet blasted through Varney’s chest, boring a clean hole through him and the wall behind. He gasped, dropping his gun as blood pooled beneath him, collapsing in a heap.

Shaska simply blew smoke as she relaxed her arm and muttered “chump change.”

“Now… what first?” she wondered aloud. Much as she wanted to haul the treasure back to the Robinson, her (weak) conscience chimed in, telling her to free her employees and the townsfolk first. She sighed and muttered “fine…”

She opened the presents containing her employees, and together they opened the presents containing the townsfolk. The townsfolk emerged from their brightly wrapped prisons looking surprisingly fine, despite having been trapped without food or air. Shaska raised an eyebrow, but shrugged—potentia powers were weird like that. The townsfolk didn’t waste time questioning it either, scattering to find their families.

A few stayed behind, however. Two men were digging through the treasure, and one more stayed behind to thank Shaska. The elderly gentleman asked “excuse me, young merwoman, were you the one who saved us?”

“I suppose you could say that…” Shaska replied.

The old man’s face curled in disdain. “Well… loath as I am to thank a… fish… as mayor of the town of Zenya, I must offer my thanks for freeing us from this bandit menace while we were completely helpless.”

“No thanks are necessary. Well, they are, actually. Thanks are very necessary. I don’t work for free. I’ll take your thanks in the form of—“

“Got ‘em!” called out one of the men digging through the treasure. He held up a sapphire noose pendant and a ring with a small sapphire in it. He was a man of above average height with shaggy black hair wearing a chef’s apron. The man headed for the hole in the wall before noticing Shaska. “Oh, thanks, big lady!”

“Really? ‘Big lady’?” Shaska thought.

“My name’s Andy!” he called cheerfully, waving as he dashed for the exit, his pendant and ring in hand. “Thanks for the help, big lady! Swing by the restaurant sometime, yeah?”

Shaska blinked, still processing the “big lady” comment as he disappeared through the hole in the wall. She turned back to the mayor. “So as I was saying, Mister Mayor, I wanted to talk about expanding Smoky Mart to this island. We’re a one stop shop that sells anything you can imagine.”

The other man found what he was looking for: a sword, and an acoustic guitar. He was a strikingly handsome blond man, bizarrely dressed in ninja garb despite not appearing to be from the far eastern land of Nippokuni. He turned to Shaska and bowed, saying “I am forever in your debt, ma’am.”

“If I’m gonna be interrupted, might as well be like that,” she thought.

“My name is Schwarz Eisenberg,” he began with a deep bow. “A traveling ninja and the last of the wealthy Eisenberg family, once renowned in the province of Sylpen before—”

“I don’t need your life story,” Shaska cut him off with a wave of her hand. “A traveling ninja, are you?”

“Indeed. All I’m asking for is food and a place to stay.”

“Free muscle, eh? Interesting…”

“Even though those bandits caught me in my sleep, I’m quite skilled at fighting. I’m an Aether adept. My potentia is called ‘Nobilis Foramen’.”

Schwarz spawned a perfectly circular black hole under his feet, and its companion behind Shaska. He fell through the portal and immediately appeared behind Shaska, who swiveled around to meet his gaze. “This is my power.”

Shaska beamed. “You’re hired. You just made transporting this loot a lot easier.”

She turned to the Smoky Merchants. “Alright, men, we got a shitload of steak to eat. Let me just finish up here.”

“Oh. Steak,” they dryly replied in unison.

“You should be more excited!” Schwarz called in exasperation.

“Now, Mister Mayor,” Shaska said with a puff of her cigar. “Let’s talk business.”

The elderly mayor winced. “Oh… I don’t know how I feel about doing business with—“

“A ‘fish freak’?” Shaska interrupted.

“It’s— I—“ the mayor stammered.

“Look, here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna take this treasure, I’m gonna take this guy’s bounty, my crew and I are gonna have a nice steak dinner, and then we’re gonna take our business elsewhere.”

“Young lady, it’s not just your race that gives me pause! A store like Smoky Mart would put all the shops in Zenya out of business! We’re just a small town in the middle of nowh—“

“RRRRAAAAAAACCCIIIIIIIIST!” Shaska interrupted, plugging her ears childishly and walking away.

As Shaska marched off, plugging her ears, Unus glanced at the mayor. “You should’ve just said ‘thanks,’ old man.” He shrugged, then followed Shaska.

—

The entire crew of the Humo Robinson was invited to Andy and Roxanne’s grill and speakeasy. Shaska, her tub bearers, and Schwarz were seated at the bar, chowing down on steak and potatoes while drinking beer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Schwarz exclaimed. “And my family was freaking rich. We could hire the best chefs in Losan!”

“Oh. It’s delicious,” said the tub bearers in unison as they ate their steaks.

“Show some enthusiasm!” Schwarz chided.

Shaska chugged her beer while Roxanne continued a conversation with her.

“So, you guys are a business and a paramilitary organization? That’s pretty neat,” Roxanne said.

“Yup, we sell to anyone, including bandits and pirates. Most of them know what’s good for them, but uppity ones get beat up and sold to the feds. We’re all trained bounty hunters here.”

“That’s so cool! The cat’s pajamas!” Andy chimed in. “So you guys go on lots of adventures, huh?”

Shaska took another swig of her beer, asking “why, you interested in coming?”

“Maybe,” said Andy, closing his eyes. “I’ve always wanted to see what the world is like. Zenya and Blue Turtle Island are great and all, but… I want to travel! Roxie and I have talked about it, but have never had the money…”

“But… seeing how strong those bandits were, and how effortlessly you beat them,” Roxanne added. “Andy and I are just normal people, not fighters. We barely even know what Aether is, let alone how to harness it. We wouldn’t last a day with people like that roaming around.”

Shaska blew smoke, then smiled, saying “here’s the deal. I can get you a restaurant in every city in these United Provinces. Nay, the world! This would be a massive losa maker for me. I’m willing to hire you two as my personal chef and bartender. Come see the world.”

The two stood there, dumbfounded.

“A-are you serious?” Andy’s eyes widened, practically glowing with excitement.

“Us? Personal chefs? Why would—” Roxanne started, her voice tinged with disbelief before Shaska cut her off.

“Because I will die if I don’t have these steaks and potatoes again. And this beer. Is this a homebrew? It’s amazing,” Shaska explained. “The chefs on the Robinson are alright, but not as good as you. There’s serious potential here. Frankly, the fact you guys somehow serve beer when it’s prohibited throughout the rest of the United Provinces is astonishing. How’d you manage that?”

“Well… some of our profits do go to paying off the police,” Roxanne mused, twiddling her thumbs. Shaska showed signs of being impressed.

“You can cook things besides this, right?” Shaska asked.

“Of course!” Andy exclaimed.

“Excellent. In exchange for protection and business opportunities, I’ll make you two my personal chefs. I’ll have the lawyer draw up a contract.”

She puffed on her cigar, paused, then added “you guys are awfully cool with me being a merwoman.”

“You saved our town!” Roxanne exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re human or not, you’re the cat’s pajamas, big lady!” Andy said.

“Okay, I’m putting a moratorium on that ‘big lady’ thing. My name is Shaska, okay?”

The doors to the restaurant opened. The mayor made his way through to where Shaska was sitting.

“Oh. The racist mayor,” said the tub bearers dryly.

“I’ve come to apologize,” the mayor said, his voice a little shaky. “After thinking it over, I realize it was wrong to judge you for… well, for something that wasn’t your fault. I see that now. And having big, strong guys like your workers here would do wonders for us not getting attacked by bandits again! It would be an honor to have a Smoky Mart in this town!”

“Good to hear it, Mister Mayor. I’ll have the lawyer draw up a contract with you too. But right now, it’s drinking time,” Shaska said, taking another swig of her beer.

—

The party lasted through the night. The next morning, Shaska woke up at the bar with a pounding headache.

“Oh. A hangover,” she said dryly, pulling out a new cigar and lighting it. She looked around and found her crew (including new recruits Schwarz, Andy, and Roxanne) standing around her.

“Oh. My crew. You guys ready to go?”

“Well…” said Unus. He pulled out the daily newspaper from the Manha Times and handed it to Shaska. Her cigar fell out of her mouth as she read the headline.

SMOKY MART OWNER SHASKA FOUND COOKING BOOKS AND CHEATING TAXES; BUSINESS LICENSE REVOKED

She turned the page and found that the Federation of the Globe even issued a bounty for her head: fifty thousand losas.

“Fifty thousand for tax fraud? Gimme a break,” she grumbled, picking up her cigar and crumpling up the newspaper. “So, who squealed?”

“Nobody on this crew squealed,” said Duon. “Corporate’s a different question, though. The feds take this crime very seriously.”

“How much do you owe them anyway?” asked Bob.

“Just two,” Shaska said casually.

“Two?”

“Billion.”

“YOU CHEATED THE FEDS OUT OF TWO BILLION LOSAS?!” everyone but Shaska cried in unison.

“Let me guess. You clowns want the fifty grand on my head? You really think you can take me?”

“No, we know how strong you are,” said Tres. ““But it’s not exactly smart for a group of bounty hunters to keep working with a wanted criminal, boss,” Tres added. “We’ll be leaving the Robinson behind and catching a corporate airship. Vice president, or… I guess President Kalynch said she’d let you keep the Robinson.”

“I’m still sticking with you, boss,” said Schwarz. Andy and Roxanne nodded.

“You three are insane,” said Unus. “She really isn’t a good—“

Shaska opened her mouth to interrupt, but Unus shut her down with “you’re an awful boss, Shaska. I’m sure you still don’t know my name, even after twenty-five years on the job!”

“But! B-but…!” Shaska stammered.

“Goodbye, Shaska,” Unus said as the Smoky Merchants stormed off.

Shaska stared at the ground, her voice quieter than usual. “My empire… thirty years of building it, gone in an instant. Just like that…” She clenched her cigar between her teeth. “All over some lousy taxes.”

“Well, you did defraud the—“ Schwarz began.

“Oh, please, everyone knows taxes are just a protection racket. The feds are no different from those bandits we just beat up. Only real difference is good publicity,” Shaska interrupted with a puff of smoke.

“Well, we’re still here,” said Andy.

“Why?”

“Because you’re strong and will help protect us when we fly around the world!” he exclaimed with a smile.

“You’re willing to drop everything and go on an adventure with a criminal you just met yesterday? I can’t even ensure I’ll make your business worldwide without my business license!”

“But you can help. The point is, we want to see the world, but we’re too poor and weak to do it ourselves. We’ll be your crew for you,” said Roxanne.

Shaska couldn’t help but get a little misty-eyed at that, but she straightened up before she could cry.

“Hey, pretty boy, you know how to fly an airship?” Shaska asked Schwarz.

“Odd question, but surprisingly, yes,” Schwarz replied. “I’ve had a few lessons in my time.”

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here. I’m gonna give the suits at corporate a piece of my mind. Let’s go, men and Walking on the Moon, we got treasure to find and palms to grease!” Shaska decisively declared.