Cassie, sailing on the boat:

Cassie woke up the following morning. She realised that the cabin's floor was now tilted in the opposite direction, and the sound of the waves hitting the side of the boat was more intense than the previous night. She was glad the skipper was arranging the watches and handling all the complexities of sailing for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

It's a lot more complicated than I would have imagined.

She decided that she needed a comfort break. Desperately. So she walked along the central passageway, searching for the heads, which she found. The so-called toilet bucket mounted in one of the cabins. In full view of everyone going past, and the ones who slept in the cabin. And currently occupied by some man, with a small queue stoically waiting for their turn.

Oh, no way. No way! I'm not doing a shit while everyone watches! There is a limit!

She turned around and returned to their cabin in a somewhat disturbed manner.

"Bronsen! Their idea of a toilet is completely open, with everyone looking on! You need to do something better than that!"

As she said this, she was almost hopping from one foot to the other.

Bronsen looked at her twitchy state and immediately spoke.

"OK, how about we check the cabins further forward? We haven't looked, have we?"

So they went through the open bulkhead door and found another open cabin. Stacked up at one end was a pile of thin, worn mattresses and -

"Yes! Another one of those wonderful toilet buckets!" said Cassy.

Bronsen cracked the lid and looked inside.

"It stinks. But at least it's empty."

"Right, get out and close the door behind you!" said Cassy.

Five minutes later, she reappeared.

"Fortunately, they do have toilet paper. Even the slaver society realises that proper hygiene is important."

Bronsen then took his turn.

Then, they decided to explore. A further four cabins were going forward, each becoming a bit narrower than the previous one, each containing a stack of mattresses but otherwise empty. The last one had a steep staircase ascending to a small space with two slaves sitting inside. It was one of the command posts, a bulge built out from the top cover of the boat, with portholes all around and about a dozen pulleys and ropes.

They are two of the ones with sailor abilities. But, more importantly, they could walk by any time we use the toilet...

Bronsen and Cassy waved at the sailors and went back to their cabin.

"OK, Bronsen. We will be building a little compartment to do our business in. We can use blankets and nail them to frames attached to the floor and ceiling."

Bronsen accepted his work orders and got to work.

"Say, Bronsen, why are there so many empty cabins?"

They went back to where most of the slaves were. It appeared that most of them had nothing to do while sailing, and they spent their time lying on their mattresses or milling around the common areas. Since this was before breakfast, most were waiting for food.

The cabin area behind the loading bay was where Hestia did her cooking. A bed of sand supported a firebox, and the cooking pot hung from above it. Small open port holes along the walls provided barely enough cross draft to remove the smoke.

Cassy took a peek into the pot. It was, as usual, only a third full. But, due to the boat's motion, the contents were sloshing from side to side, with the occasional drop spilling out.

So that's why Hestia never fills the pot.

Also, those buckets lashed to the wall have seawater in them.

A slave came by, dipped his hands into a bucket, and then dried them by rubbing them on his clothes. Since his clothes were ragged and filthy, he didn't achieve much cleanliness, but it was the thought that counts.

Yey, we can wash our hands! Say, how often is the water changed?

After breakfast, consisting of yummy grey goop and moderately fresh water from the drinking water barrels, the Misfits drifted around, taking in the sights, which was limited. Eventually, they encountered Frannie.

"Frannie, why are there so many empty cabins?" said Bronsen.

"Oh, when we start a voyage, there is a full complement of about two hundred slaves, but by the time we zig-zag from side to side of the Jaserra ocean as we travel down the length of the ring and back again, they die off due to all sorts of accidents and causes."

"Oh," said Cassy.

"Marmalade Island was our last stop before returning to our nearby home port. So our manning levels are just about at the lowest point," said Frannie.

Back in their cabin: "The slave society doesn't care for itself in any way, does it?" said Cassy.

"No. If you think about it, there isn't much purpose to any of it, is there? Everyone is compelled to follow orders; the only one with any agency is the emperor, and who does he have to associate with?" said Bronsen.

"Not quite true. Remember, the Blues seem to have a limited amount of autonomy." said Cassy, "Which they appear to use to be mean to each other and to mistreat all the slaves below them."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"So, no one gets any enjoyment out of life except for the emperor. And even he must, ultimately, live a life devoid of much in the way of joy."

"I wonder, all the lower slaves are compelled to keep going. What compels the emperor to keep on living?"

They settled in to wait out the hours until the evening meal.

It was very dull.

Tonight's meal was - (surprise, surprise) grey goop. Again.

Since no one else appeared to complain, Cassy and Bronsen were careful not to complain. There wasn't any point. After the meal, they went for an evening stroll. Or as close to it as possible, considering the confined quarters and the fact that most of the slaves merely spent their time packed into their cabins, lying or sitting on their mattresses, not doing much at all.

The Misfits felt a tiny bit self-conscious walking past them and then walking back again.

On the way, they encountered Skip, the skipper, consulting with the navigator as they planned tonight's sailing.

"It appears that every job and specialisation one could possibly have has a system ability for it," said Cassy.

"Certainly makes some things easier; for example, they don't have to use a compass, the navigator just automatically knows where he or she is on the Ringworld all the time," said Bronsen.

There was a commotion as a slave, one entrusted with relaying messages between the sailors at their stations and the skipper, appeared.

"We've sighted another ship. It's slowly overtaking us, from starboard to port. It will probably cross in front of us a kilometre out in an hour," he said.

"OK, no need to take further action." said the skipper.

Bronsen looked at Cassy.

"Let's keep track of this to ensure there is no interaction," said Bronsen.

Fortunately, this was easy enough. Standing in their cabin, looking out through the port holes, they could see the other ship. It was visible in the night by the faint glow of the internal lights leaking out of its port holes. This light came from a collection of lanterns and the occasional fireball ability, which was also how the ship that the Misfits was on was illuminated.

"There are one or two Blues on that ship. It would be a total disaster if they learnt about us," said Cassy.

"Yeah."

They watched in silence - apart from all the noise of the sea, the wind blowing past, and the voices of the slaves in the background...

"Say, aren't those voices getting louder?" said Bronsen.

"So they are..." said Cassy, just as there was a knock at the door.

Frannie was there. "I think you should come to the docking area; that once-upon-a-time Red is being a pain."

Cassie screwed up her face in disgust.

What is that stupid git doing this time?

Oh, Bronsen is sending me a warning signal; I better behave myself.

Bronsen, followed by Cassie, taking all effort to be on her best behaviour, went to the docking area. As usual, Frannie trailed behind them. Upon arriving at the docking area, they discovered a ring of slaves watching, and talking amongst themselves as the ex-Red and Hestia had a little argument.

Hestia held an unlit lantern while the ex-Red tried to take it from her. Behind them was the open hatchway to the outside, and clearly visible was the other ship, creeping past and currently roughly abreast with them.

"Give me the lantern! I can light it and signal the other ship! We can get some Blues here and take back our ship!"

The ex-Red shouted this while trying to lunge at Hestia and get the lantern. However, Hestia was having none of this. She was using her superior strength and speed to push him off.

"No, I won't! Why should I? Those two treat us nicely and even gave us some chocolate!" said Hestia.

"Because it is wrong! They destroyed slave collars!"

"But I became much stronger and faster than before! That's amazing!"

"Women should not have better abilities than men!"

Cassie started to fume.

The little shit! I shouldn't have given him his share of the chocolate!

The little shit got even more agitated.

"How do we know what to do without orders? What are we without Blues to organise things?"

Pathetic. His whole miserable little self-identity must be based upon being a slave and following orders.

Hestia is heaps better than that!

"Cassie and Bronsen do organise things! And, what's more, they do it much more efficiently than the Blues. We didn't even have any casualties when we launched the ship!"

"So what? I can give orders if I'm a Red or Blue! If I call the other ship, they will reward me! I can boss you around again!"

Hey, stupid, that is NOT a good argument to try to get Hestia's cooperation.

By now, Cassie had shouldered through the crowd and was in the front seat to this little drama.

Hestia continued to prevent him from grabbing her lantern. She had stepped in front of the hatchway to avoid his latest attempts. So, the ex-Red made his move. He shoved Hestia towards the opening with one hand while grabbing the lantern with the other. Unfortunately for him, Hestia's maxed-out abilities were equal to the task. One hand shot out and up to grab a cleat above the hatchway, thus stopping her from tumbling backwards into the sea. The other hand continued to grip the lantern's handle with a vice-like grip.

And Cassy finally lost it.

He tried to kill Hestia! Who's worth a hundred times more than he is.

Her face in a snarl and steam coming out of her ears, she summoned her sword and skewered him.

Just like Drayden had skewered her.

Oops.

Oh. I've killed him.

Well...

Stuff it.

The body still on her sword, she stepped aside from Hestia and threw it, including her sword, through the hatchway. There was an extra splash as the body hit the water and a flurry of activity as multiple tentacles waved about. One of them whipped up and tried to get a grip on the hatchway entrance.

Eek!

Cassy moved fast. She re-summoned her sword, cut the tentacle off, shoved Hestia further in and slammed the hatchway shut. She then took a little bit extra time dogging it securely shut.

The cut-off tentacle flopped about on the floor.

All the slaves in the audience took turns looking at the tentacle and looking at Cassy.

"Ah, well, I suppose he did try to kill Hestia. So, hmm, does anyone object?

Nobody objected.

"Bronsen and I are going to get this boat to Marmalade Island. So, any objections to that?"

Still none.

"I must admit this is a little stressful..."

Actually, the audience didn't look all that stressed out - more like neutral. Or resigned. Or even indifferent.

"Say, we still have some chocolate in our cabin. How about everybody has a piece."

Some of them cheered at that. There were no signs that anybody missed the ex-Red slave.

An hour later, after distributing another quarter of the chocolate, Cassy and Bronsen returned to their cabin and ensured the door was securely closed. Before that, they had suggested to Hestia that the tentacle be added to tomorrow's breakfast stew.

Cassy collapsed onto the floor, sitting with her back to the outside wall. She glanced at Bronsen.

Looks like I'm due for another talk. Sigh.

"Sorry Bronsen. It looks like I lost my temper. And killed someone."

Bronsen sat beside her, putting his arm and tail around her back.

"It's all right. He was endangering us all, and he tried to kill Hestia."

"Still, I did kill him."

"True. So, I suppose you are no longer that innocent little delinquent we used to know. But, of course, the rest of the Misfits aren't either. After all, we all have a much higher kill count than you do."

"But with those killings, you were under the quasi-Ashrend effects."

"Yeah, don't I know it. It was ghastly."

Cassy clutched Bronsen's arm.

Is he going to leave me because of all of this?

Fortunately, Bronsen rose to the occasion.

"You're worried I might lose interest in you and think you are no longer attractive to me, don't you?"

Cassy was breathing hard from stress. "Yeah. You and the others are all I have in this big, weird Ringworld. I couldn't bear to lose you."

"Don't worry, I couldn't bear to lose you either. It's fine. It's totally fine. I still love you, no matter what."

He leaned over and kissed her. Cassy responded to the warmth by starting to cry.

It took her an hour to work it out of her system, and she drifted off to sleep.

Bronsen:

My dear Cassy.

It was dark in the cabin, but he could still see her face due to his enhanced senses.

He watched her gently breathe, then slowly and quietly moved and kissed her again.

After a while, he also went to sleep.