After the rat-face was gone, the armsmaster pushed his chair back, crouched down, and after some cursing and groaning, put something on a table.

  Joseph saw a simple metal hilt, covered in worn-out black leather, sticking out of the sheath. The weapon was pretty long, almost the same length as his forearm and half of his wrist combined.

  He slowly pulled the weapon out. It was a knife, with a broad and sharp blade and jagged edge on the side closest to him. It was kept clean and ready, but it was not new by any means, with multiple scratches on its surface showing the experiences it went through.

  “A souvenir. Thought I’d get you something for your first taste of the land. Good companion, useful for both slashing and stabbing. Strap it to your belt and never take it off.”

  Joe carefully slid his finger alongside the blade. His eyes caught unusually deep scratches. Combined, they could represent some kind of pattern, but Joe had no idea what it meant.

  “It’s… very old, isn’t it?”

  Ralf’s half-smile was his answer.

  “What gave that away? I kept it in good condition through and through. It won’t break on you.”

  “That’s not what I am worrying about…”

  There was something about this knife. About its history.

  “Ralf…”

  “What are you getting all sentimental for, kid? I wanted to toss that knife into the void a long time ago, but this little guy didn’t deserve such blasphemous fate. Now, it’s yours.”

  There was something he wasn’t saying. Something that was hanging in the air between them, but sometimes Joe just could not read subtle hints and atmosphere for the life of him.

  “Thank you, Ralf.” Was all he could muster to say.

  The big man chuckled and waved him off.

  “Move along, you have your job to do.”

*****

  The job he had indeed. He was feeling both excited and anxious. His hands were shaking a bit, but it was better to get it all out now, before diving headfirst into the unknown.

  Pat emerged from storage, across the doctor’s room. His backpack looked almost fully staffed.

  “Taking this seriously, huh? But where are your bombs and weapons, sir?”

  “I have no need to report to the likes of you.” Pat whipped out a sharp answer and stern gaze. But then he stopped for a second, sighed, and continued talking, this time in a much calmer tone and a bit apologetic. “We’re only scouting. I wanted to pick some of the local flora for analysis, so the hunting is on the rest of the team.”

  “I see. You will hang back and be ready with medical supplies in case of emergency, while me and the rest of the crew will be your bodyguards. You are not taking point on this one, right?”

  Pat nodded.

  “Pretty much. I’ll let Xander pick a leader for this since I’m just a scientist and a doctor. I’m familiar with weapons, but physical combat is not my forte, so it will be all up to you.”

  “That’s quite a heavy responsibility you are throwing on me here.”

  The doctor’s assistant smirked.

  “Better start taking it now, don’t you think?”

  Both of them went down all the way to the Hold. The Boat Deck was across the section, on the other side, where Joe saw a door during his first meeting with Grigory.

  A bunch of familiar faces greeted them inside.

  “Irfan? So you’re the hunter, then?”

  “That I am.” Irfan was armed for war. Poor innocent animals. With a backpack, huge axe, a knife, rifle and pistol, and bundle of rope, they stood no chance against that savage brute of a man.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Hey, look who it is! It’s a guy that clawed from the dead!”

  “He wasn’t dead, idiot. He was injured.”

  “Joe, Irfan! Good to see ya, lads.”

  Henry, Duncan, and Rodger, three guys he and hunter arid were sharing drinks just this morning. Vas, the mimic was also there, but he was silent. As always.

  And of course, each and every one of them was just as well-armed. Duncan went a step further, bringing not one, but two types of rifles with him - Standard bolt-action and usual blunderbuss.

  “Ei, Zan, why there are no air rifles on the ship? I thought you had some left in cargo, no?” Joe heard Henry complaining.

  “We had only three, and some dumb hoodlums with water for brains decided that it would a good idea to test them during practice without warning me, or Alchfrid. Guess what happened then.”

  Henry snorted.

  “Well, that's a damn shame. Figures we are stuck with good old sticks.”

  “Those sticks served us perfectly fine for a century and more, you old crank." Duncan pushed Henry out of the way. "Get your head in the game and get moving.”

  “Joseph, Pat, wait.” Xander called out to them. He fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out a couple of folded spyglasses.

  “What about Irfan?” There were only two of them.

  “I gave him one, but he says he has no need for that. So it’s yours now. Nothing against you, Joseph, I have only a few undamaged left. And a hunter would get more use out of one.”

  Joe nodded and put the spyglass in a pocket. It did hurt him a bit, but he was getting used to the fact that Xander was treating him like a rookie. Which he absolutely was.

  Still, it was fairly annoying…

  There were four boats in total. There were not pointy, as normal water-riding were - these ones had a rectangular shape, with high covers and round corners. Each of them had a metal box that was taking up almost a quarter of the boat and had three levers sticking out of it. An engine, probably.

  Each boat had four thrusters at the sides - two at the front, facing backward and two at the back, with muzzles on both sides.

  But an even more interesting detail was that boats had rails around their bottom. Joe looked down, where they were stationed, and saw wheels underneath, on the ledges projected from the wall.

  Joseph was wondering - why not do it the opposite way? Wheels on the boat, rails on the walls?

  Xander’s shout pulled him out from his thoughts.

  “Alright, are you ready, scouts?”

  Almost everyone growled something positive.

  “Good. Then, take three boats. Pat, Joe, Irfan to this one, Henry and Vas, you take this, and Duncan with Rodger, this one’s yours.”

  Irfan stepped closer to the side of the boat and easily jumped over the side cover. Pat and Joe joined him shortly after, not as extravagantly - by slowly stepping over. Their teammates were already in theirs, Henry was telling a joke to Vas who was nodding silently, and Duncan was discussing different tastes of beer with Rodger.

  “Now, who is gonna fly?” That was Pat who asked this question.

  Joe and Irfan looked at each other.

  “Can’t you control this thing?” Joseph turned his head to Pat.

  “I can, but I thought one of you wanted to try. Any volunteers?”

  “Pass here.” Irfan refused.

  Joe looked at the panel. There were up-down arrow signs on top of one of the levers, in the middle. The lever on the left had no signs but had a wider hole around its base, allowing for more movement. And third, the smallest one, had only three positions - left, middle, and down. There was a key sign above it.

  “If you tell me how, I can try.”

  “The key lever is the igniter." Pat began to explain. "You move it to the middle to provide electricity and down to activate the engine. Middle lever is height, it controls back thrusters. Watch out, and don’t sit close to them. Left is direction - down is forward, the lower the faster. Up is backward, obviously.”

  Xander shouted while staying near a panel in the middle of the room.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah!”

  “God speed, lads. Good luck!”

  He pressed a couple of buttons and pulled a lever.

  The lights above the ship wall were brightening up, as the section of the same wall was opening downwards, revealing the space outside.

  “Enable power, hold for a second, then ignite!”

  Joe followed Pat’s instructions. The engine revved up, with the growling sound of an old man waking up from his slumber.

  “Now slowly, slowly!… Yes, correct. Just move at this pace.”

  Joe pulled the lever down. The boat slid off the track and was now hovering in midair, moving forward with a speed of a glacier.

  “Now, when we arrive at the land, I want you to turn that around.”

  “You kidding me? I don’t have a license for that kind of maneuver!”

  “You can do it. I believe in you.” The gleeful sarcasm in his voice was unbearable.

  While the boat was drifting forward, Joe looked back at the ship. He totally underestimated how huge it actually was back then, as he found that gigantic metal beast with the size of a rectangular ocean liner, even bigger looking from the outside.

  It also had backward thrusters near the front, rails near the bottom, and was of similar shape as the boat. The rails had a huge black double cannon on them, that was idle and unmoving, with its barrels pointing down.

  He shuddered at the sight of thirty cannons staring at him. How would it feel to be on the other side of their carnage? Joe had no idea if he wanted to know the answer. But if he was hesitant, then…?

  Then part of you is excited to be the target of these cannons.

  He pushed that thought away. But he couldn’t really deny it either…

  “Eyes up front, pilot!”

  They were a stone's throw away from the ledge. Joe swore, and put the control lever in the middle, slowing down the boat to a stop. Then he pulled it up and to the left, turning it around.

  “Smart. Reversing before the land.”

  Joe has ignored this backhanded compliment, focusing entirely on the island. His boat was hovering about couple of meters higher than it should’ve been. He pulled the height lever down, directing it to the earth, then up to align it, continuing on slow speed throughout, flying backward. Now he was hovering in mere centimeters. He put the boat on full stop. The four members of the strike team has already landed and were now watching a show with him as the main star, laughing.

  “Well done, captain. Now just turn it off the same way, hold for a second.”

  The boat fell on the ground, sending a shock through Joe’s body. He released the lever, wiped the sweat, and crawled out.

  Pat was looking at him with some degree of respect.

  “Not too bad for your first ride, I’ll give you that.”

  Joe just waved him off, grabbing the rifle out of the scabbard on the back. The rest of their group stopped laughing, prepared weapons, and put on the best serious faces they had.

  “So, who’s the leader then? Our scaly cat didn’t forget to mention that little detail, that oblivious simpleton?”

  Duncan shrugged.

  “Don’t call him that, mate. But Henry is right, who’s calling the shots?”

  All seven of them looked at each other.

  “That’s… quite a conundrum.” Even Pat was dumbfounded. “I thought he did choose the leader.”

  Rodger stepped towards the forest.

  “Does it matter? I don’t mind calling shots, lads, if it takes us home faster.”

  “Now hold on there, mate.” Henry stopped him. “I am your senior by two years, rookie, you give that captain hat to me!”

  “Your stupid demand is proof enough that the commander’s mantle is wasted on you. And on your fake beard.”

  “What did you say, you lousy bard?! Your singing sucks horse’s big dong all day long!”

  “You are just jealous of my singing, you piss for brains!”

  “Lads, what kind of kid’s squabble is this?” Poor Rodger.

  “Get lost!/Shut up, Rodger!” Neither bald Duncan nor Henry with his lavish beard were going to let that one slide.

  Pat, Joe, Irfan, and Vas were watching the scene with surprise, irritation, confusion, and stoic silence.

  The doctor's assistant gritted his teeth.

  “What in the void is going on?!”

  Joe simply walked around two angry men. He stopped by the edge of the forest, then turned around and waved his hand, inviting the rest of them to follow.

  Pat and Irfan glanced at each other.

  “You think we should leave them like this?”

  Hunter shrugged and went ahead. Pat hurried after Joe and Irfan, leaving Vas and the rest of the group behind.