The yelling was already reaching the captain’s cabin. Vega’s soldiers were going to arrive soon and Em didn’t want to spend the last minutes of freedom hearing the details of the plan for the tenth time. “Havar, have you brought a pipe with you? I’m dying for a puff,” he said.
Havar denied and continued with his report to Riko. “Yes, the second batch arrived without problem and everyone is in the safe house.”
“Em’s girl?” Riko asked.
“Yes, sir,” Havar said. “She dove three times and carried all the bulks herself. Still, she arrived before anyone else.” Em shared a look with Riko before a sharp pain over the side made him writhe.
“I still have time to give you the injection,” the doctor said, shaking a full syringe.
Em wasn’t going to let anything blur his reasoning. Not at a time like that. He had to be awake and sharp. Just as he was going to decline the doctor’s offer, the knocking on the door chilled him and everyone else in the cabin. A commanding shout followed. “And no tricks! Do you understand me?”
Adan opened the door just enough to get half his body in. Pale and sweaty, he could not hide his distress. “Cap’n… Sir Jason Meville, Head of the Adamant marine force, requests to enter and demands your word of honour there will be no attempt against his men.”
Riko raised his voice to recall for surrender, but whispered shortly after requesting more details of his scheme. “And the crew onboard? Where are they now?”
“On deck only ‘pegleg’ Bart and old Mudo. Everyone else is tied up in the pantry.”
“How about Mr. Furlong and Timmy?”
The squeak of the door made Havar hesitate, yet he finished his report. “Already dry and digging mole holes. Not to worry.”
Adan entered first with raised hands and slow steps. He was followed by a dozen soldiers who hurried to get into a line of fire. Their dark grey uniforms were new and the rifles quickly raised to secure the room were among the most modern in the NorWes. Weapons aimed at Riko with precision and firmness.
“Hey, just point some here, kids. I feel insulted.” Em said.
Doctor Obiko, who was at Em’s side, gasped, but none of the soldiers moved a muscle. They were all young guys with good training. Kids with calloused hands from practising but not much time facing true, real danger. Whether it was a string of sweat, eyes too wide or a jaw too tight, every one of them was terrified. If they were to be successful in their little job, they’d take it as a great deed. They’d speak, brag about their moment before the Man’o’war and the Tiger. And that’s what Em wanted. It was time to be the legend he had never been.
Officer Meville, trying to appear confident, failed with his falter. He, like his subordinates, was wearing boots too big for his feet. “Put the handcuffs on the Riko.”
One of the soldiers hurriedly hung up his rifle over the shoulder. He did so with the speed of someone who wants to prove his worth, although his steps towards the captain unfolded with hesitancy. Halfway, he spooked with Em’s sudden hem.
“Not yet.” Em lifted his leg to accommodate buttocks on the table behind. “Adan, mind sharing one of those poorly made cigars of yours?”
“We have no time for this!” yelled the officer.
“I’ll decide that,” Em said. Adan placed one of his handmade cigars in the side of Em’s mouth, so he could hold it well with the molars. After the first puff, Obiko let out a snort. “Come on Doc, give this dying man one last wish.”
Riko slowly settled on the table, just as his former admiral had done. As he crossed his arms, not only did the handcuff soldier fidget, but all the others. Officer Meville, equally nervous and impatient, stuttered. “Co… come on, get up and move!”
Em moved jaw and lips to hold on the cigar better. “When I’m done.”
“get up or-“
“Or what?” cut Em, deepening a frown towards the officer. “What are you going to do about it? I’m sure the Crybaby will not be happy if you shoot me. I mean, He always sends kids to do the hard task, get the job done and die with it. But despite the sacrifice of his men, he must take the last shot and credit for it. Isn’t that right, captain?”
With Riko’s asserting murmur, tension rose to the ceiling. Havar, Obiko and Adan dragged their feet sideways, trying to get further from the trembling muzzles.
“What are you waiting for, Viran? cuff him!” the officer commanded. Riko offered his wrists to make Viran life easier, and his captor rushed to fulfil his task while holding a breath from the first step until the last.
The next puff engulfed Em’s face in a cloud. His eyes stung, but it was nothing compared to the burning of the lungs. “That will be enough, I suppose.” Em bit half of the cigar, dropping ashes on the floor, but he kept the inner part to savour the leaves a bit longer. “The Crybaby has come on deck, is it?”
Meville’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“I know the man very well,” Em said as he slowly got up. “You see, here my colleague Riko was very sure that Vega would not leave the safety of the Adamant for anything or anyone. After all, he is a piece of a coward. But...”
“Silence!”
Em strode forward. Canons at the touch of his face. “He’s just a spoiled brat who can’t handle his emotions when things go sideways. A whiny weeper who is where he is because of the safety of his expensive toys and brave minions.”
“Silence!”
“Whatever you want, kid,” whispered Em. “Shall we go?”
The wall of weapons broke, more clumsy than it formed, and they headed to the deck with guards at the front and at the back. Midway, Em halted to catch his breath and fight a faint. He then suppressed a cough and snorted with determination to continue.
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The evening breeze was invigorating and, resolved to not fail to his plan, Em didn’t stop to thrill in the magnificent sight of the Adamant. In other circumstances, he’d have loved to walk among her cabins, discover her terrifying yet fascinating built and all its secret wonders. But now, with little clarity left, it was time to put it in the man who was waiting for them on the other side of the deck. A man surrounded by a horde of soldiers from both Tampra and the Kraken.
“If I knew he’d come, I’d-”
Em rushed to interrupt Riko. “Nay. We have a deal, captain. We do it my way and I give you my blessing.”
Old Mudo stood between him and his goal. “This is for you, Admiral.” ‘Peg-leg’ Bart, coming from behind, hung an old Admiral’s jacket over his shoulders. It was a gnawed and discoloured piece. One exactly as the one he once wore, although of a larger size. “Who’s this?”
“Who knows, and who cares... now is yours,” said Adan.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Em didn’t want to wear something that wasn’t his, but a reminder to everyone else of who they were facing was a substantial addition. He turned and shared a timid smile with each of them and resumed his gloom over Riko. “You take care of her, cap. Do as you plan, but don’t let the ugliness we have both endured ever stain her soul.”
“You have my word, Admiral.” Riko said.
Vega’s malicious attention did not leave him for a moment. Not when they reached the centre of the deck, nor when he took a few steps more alone. “Close enough,” Vega said.
The Kraken’s Admiral was exactly as Em remembered. More wrinkled and greyish, but still as petulant and pretentious. He was dressed in an immaculate blue uniform that was more reminiscent of his island’s militias than other armed forces. The holster of the revolver he was twirling around was pristine and shiny. Leather of a weapon that had not seen much action. Vega noticed Em’s interest in his toy and chuckled. “Way better than yours.”
Em turned his back on him and moved to the edge’s railing. His intention, to show little respect and even less, fear. “Do you know how to use it, or you just do festival tricks?”
“I’m pretty good at it,” Vega said. “You don’t know how much I waited for-”
“Shush boy! Your strident voice annoys me,” Em said out loud so everyone could witness the disrespect. “Wanna show your kids how tough you are, then we solve it as the Kraken does. A challenge. I can still make you cry like a child, even half-dying and armless.”
Em scouted the surroundings. There were no chuckles or giggles. Yet, he knew if diminishing Vegas power one more time had no effect on that moment, gossip would run like wildfire through the brotherhood. He had to make them see the kind of person Vega was. Make them remember. The Kraken was many things, most of them bad, but it still had some values from the past; values of what really mattered.
“You are no brother anymore. Challenge only apply to-”
“Excuses.” cut Em short. Vega was clever, resourceful and well connected, but he was flawed as well. He liked to give orders. And he liked to be listened to. And one thing that usually infuriates those who enjoy their own voice is being interrupted. The vein swelling on the Admiral’s forehead was proof of it.
“I decided to board this treacherous ship to show you my good will.” Vega munched. “You can apologise for your past wrongdoings and-”
“And you will hang me in private afterwards? Rot me in a cell to be forgiven? What you want is redemption for your own shame by putting me in your place.” Em said. “Nay, that’s not gonna happen, boy. I’m not begging for mercy. Not to a bellyacher like you. You want your revenge? Come and get it.”
Vega’s nose wrinkled subtly before dissipating under a false grimace of contempt he was quick to show, turning to his men. A sneer intended to seek complicity on the surface but dissent in the hidden.
“Coming here after your kids nailed the cannons, chained the crew, and swarmed the deck. So brave you are!” Em said. “You fool no one, Vega. They are just too scared or ashamed to openly tell.”
Vega’s knuckles whitened over his revolver’s handle. His jaw’s muscles tensed. Em knew him well enough. Under a facade of resilience, leniency and firmness, there was a person too thin-skinned, too vengeful and too volatile. Smart enough to figure out Em’s game, but too proud and temperamental to let it go.
Em surveyed again through the dozens of impassive faces. He was a fool, maybe. But he didn’t care. Ignoring pain and faint, he clung into his foolishness. Hoping the mouth to mouth would build a change within the brotherhood. “What a disgrace of a man!” he shouted. “A man who sent youngsters to die in the Colonies while hiding in an office. A man who betrayed his friends in Ventfort for a piece of dirty money.”
“Shut up!” Vega could barely hide the anger under a thin layer of composed demeanour. “Those desperate lies to discredit me did not work before and will not work now.”
“Those are no lies. Everyone knows.” Em said, between excruciating gasps. “The stories everyone knows are all true as well as the ones nobody has heard off.” Em’s lips lifted as he watched Vega hold his breath. “You sent two ships, the Scaring Winds and the Bounty to a trap so your Azure could escape the pirates of the siren! Those never sunk in a storm. That was a lie. As was the report of the party on Awelle island dying of dysentery. They were betrayed and left to starve by your command.”
“Shut up!” Vega raised his gun. “Or I swear I’ll execute you like a dog!”
“You got captain Ferdinand poisoned and captain Kross drowned to get all shares of the Callusa’s prize.’’ Doubts raised. Em saw the furtive glances seeking complicity, seeking support. “I can go on all day! What more? You lied to Admiral Gerardo about Bussanda, and-”
Em’s shouts and the crowd’s hubbub froze with the sound of a shot. He noticed nothing but a slight pop on the left of his chest. It did not hurt. His grunt rattled with a filling lung. He gazed at Vega’s eyes, blazing in rage behind the smoking gun. He got him.
“Shoot to the head, lubber.” Em said with great effort. Vega did, and the bullet bit Em’s ear. Strangely, this round hurt more than the first. Yet. Em laughed. A chuckle made of coughs and spasms. “How pathetic…” he whispered.
His eyes, watered and blurred, believed to see Ivy’s face showing up from the deck’s hatch. It was a mirage, of course. She was safe in the floating city. But yet, the illusion filled him with regrets. The pain of having to let her go. Sadness of having to leave her alone. Grief of letting her down. His eyes lowered to the ground, and a rogue tear dropped. “Love you pumpkin. Sorry for this.”
Vega stepped forward and shot again. The whistle felt close. The kraken admiral, roaring in frustrated rage, closed the quarter and shot again. His next two hit the target: stomach and shoulder.
Em crumbled and let himself go backwards. His last moment was not on a floor with a pitiful man looking from above. It was with himself and his beloved ocean. He splashed over a chill, pleasant sea. Bullet holes and sewed arms filled his prosthesis, bubbles warning the flotation compartments were no more. He cheered as he sank. He’d used to hold his breath pretty well during his diver’s life, and this time, for a plunge he’d been dreaming for decades, it was not going to be less.
The water was clear. Fish swam around as blurs of silver and grey. The dive, surrounded by a cloud of escaping oils and blood, was slow and pleasant. Memories of his dear boy flashed around like luminescent tides. Teaching him to shoot, to sail, to trade. Those cheerful days made him rejoice. Next came the times with his dear girl. Teaching her to swim, to dive, to grow. His smile broadened. His next thoughts were for Lim. Her warmful meals. Her nurturing chats, and her never-ending, unconditional support.
Everything crossed in an instant but felt like a full, long life. His mind stained as he greeted old friends: the divers, the sailors, the soldiers. People he’d miss and people he’d missed. Then, he found himself on that old flowery square of Linee, with that nurse of his. She tucked her ashy hair the way he always liked and waved from the coffee shop as he stepped forward with impatience. As he held her hand, she followed him across a spreading school of fish swimming in circles through their descent. When the depth grew, light dimmed. Darkness enveloped. But he was not afraid. He was a diver after all, and divers are not afraid of the dark.