"Did I see Aetna out there?" asked Pritchett, face pale with fear.

"Yeah," said Ben. "She got captured. The man said if we give up the prisoner, we can get Aetna back and passage to the nearest harbor, so we can hop on a ship and get out of here."

"What happened to the others? That what he gave them? Passage?" asked the Sergeant. He was pacing back and forth, pistol in one hand, sword in the other, mood seemingly not improved. He kneeled and rested his head on his arm, whispering, "This can't be happening to me."

"Sergeant?" asked Tillby, visibly perturbed by the man's loss of calm.

"I'm sorry Tillby, but the fact that we're about to die is bothering me a little bit. You got a problem with that, son?" Davies didn't stop and wait for any response, but instead kept on talking, volume rising higher and higher. "I wasn't even supposed to be here. If it wasn't for Bahn and his revolutionary ideas, I'd be with my family. I wanted no part of this, my life was good. The King didn't do shit to me."

"To die fighting is better than to die starving," Tillby said softly.

"Don't you give me that propaganda bullshit. I sure wasn't starving. I had a good posting, I could go home and see my wife and child every night. Now, this? Dying across the sea for rifles and gunpowder to fight a war I don't believe in. I'll never see my family again."

"It's going to be alright," said Ben, trying to calm him down.

"Is it, Everett? How do you figure that? Did you think you were the only one to play the Admiral's little mind games? He told me in his underhanded way what would happen to my daughter if I did not fall in line. By all the Gods, it's not like he even needed me. I'm not even a damned officer. But he just had to push my face into the muck just a little further, just to make sure I knew who held my leash. And after all that, he saddled me with you." The Sergeant walked over to Radvick and shook the prisoner awake. The man became awake with some difficulty, eyes still foggy and half-closed, he mumbled something.

"That's okay, Radvick, you don't need to be aware, more of a mercy if you're not conscious anyway." He said and sheathed his sword, dragging the prisoner outside, with one hand around his neck. The sergeant talked as he went, the rest of the men just watching him. Ben made to stop him, and the Sergeant pointed his pistol at him, pulling the trigger, the shot landing a foot above Ben's head, splintering the wood.

Sergeant Davies dropped the spent pistol and pulled another one from his belt, this time pointing it at Pritchett, who stood nearby, body in a half-crouch, ready to spring. Davies' face was now clear of all rage, the picture of contentment. He laughed and spoke, "It's alright boys. It doesn't matter now. Went through life chasing one mistake after the other. Maybe that's why Admiral Van Bahn abandoned us here, maybe that's how the Rebels get rid of their waste, feed it to dogs. I wouldn't put it past the bastards."

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"You walk out there, they will kill you in seconds," said Pritchett. "Don't throw your life away."

"Already thrown." the Sergeant pulled Radvick closer to him, the prisoner's head hanging down in the manner of the unconscious until Davies gave him a kick. The man jolted awake for a few seconds, but his legs failed to find purchase, and he fell like a puppet with its strings cut. Surprisingly, Davies held him up, but not without effort.

Radvick's boots created small tracks on the beach as he was pulled by the Sergeant. He was then dropped to his knees, with Sergeant Davies standing above him, pistol barrel shoved firmly against the back of his skull.

"Go on three?" asked Ben, looking at his two companions. Pritchett grabbed Tillby's shoulder, pulling him back as he shook his head. "If we go out there, we're liable to get filled with iron. We have to wait this out."

"And let the Sergeant just die?" asked Tillby. "That's not right."

"It is right. He's been acting strange the entire voyage. I wonder what Van Bahn did with his daughter. Bet he's been regretting that dinner invitation he extended to Vahn Bahn on the eve of the riots." Pritchett chuckled to himself, but it sounded hollow, the man's eyes glued to the Sergeant. "Come on, you idiot, just put the weapon down." He said, under his breath.

Mr. Simms shouted from the ridge, "I don't wish to take this as a sign of aggression, sir, but I will. Please release Mr. Radvick posthaste."

"One of yours for one of mine," said the Sergeant in return, waving his free hand towards Aetna. "Let her go, and I will return the favor and release Radvick from his troubles."

Simms nodded to one of his footsoldiers, adding, "Anything off-level, don't hesitate." Then to Davies, "Here she comes, sir." Aetna was hoisted to her feet, and the cuffs around her wrists unlocked. She made her way down slowly on account of her injuries. When she made it to the bottom, she looked at the Sergeant who waved off her impatiently.

Simms called down, "I believe it's now your turn, sir. Please keep your word, I beg you."

"Don't you worry," said the Sergeant. "All of our troubles will be over soon." He smiled and even waved happily to his people hiding in the shabby little fort. Sergeant Davies then shot Radvick through the back of the head, spilling the man's brains all over the beach. Radvick fell over, the remains of his face smashing against the pebbles.

Ben took off in a run the second he heard the shot. As his foot made it across the planks, he heard the rifles go off at the top of the ridge. A shot took Davies in the neck, another in the lower leg.

Ben charged, slamming into the Sergeant, both of them crashing among the rocks and the sand. Mr. Simms could be heard over the noise, shouting at his men to stop firing.

Sergeant Davies tried to get up, before the severity of his situation sunk in. Ben pressed his hands against the wound in the Sergeant's neck, trying to stop the flow of blood. "Damn you, Everett," he said before he started to choke on his blood. Ben turned him to the side to prevent the man from suffocating.

He looked around and saw the others kneeling, putting down whatever weapons they still had. Pritchett called out that they were surrendering, to which Mr. Simms chortled in return, "I should think so." he said.

The mercenaries went into the little fort, pushing Tillby out and hitting the back of his knees until the man fell. Grimby was dragged out by his arms and dropped on the beach, his lifeless eyes open and tongue hanging down between his teeth. Mr. Simms prodded Grimby with his umbrella and then looked at the Sergeant. "I suppose that makes us even, don't you think?"