Chapter 39: Turning the Key

Now you might be surprised by how Vega is going to do this mission. She is going to.. Now listen closely… walk out in the middle of the open.

Shocker! I know.

“Just smile and wave, Kaliba. Smile and wave.” Hiding in plain sight was her strategy and it wasn’t without reason. Sure, she was not in exactly friendly territory. But my dear student, you must remember how she presents herself, specifically what she’s wearing.

Makeshift armor of whatever metal or fabric that could be strapped on her. Not too dissimilar to a bandit’s gear. She tucked a scarf around her face, with the only part of her that could be seen would be the eyes. Although noticeable when singled out, in a constantly moving place like this she’d be unremarkable.

Well, aside from the bucket helmet. But then again, that made her blend in with the Iozian idiots.

Plus any attempt at stealth in such a partolled area seemed impossible, let alone the fact she was working against the clock.

“~Everyone, the ship is arriving soon. Give a good performance and we might be rewarded.~” Over on a watchtower, an officer yelled down through a paper megaphone. The Iozian bandits and pirates continued their duties as a majority of the Tripolians got into formation.

Warehouses laid out with what seemed to be a horde of stolen loot. Vega as moved to the Soft Belly ship took wandering glances at the storage, not enough to alert suspension but enough to get a view of the situation. Eagle standards, coins showing soldiers and Spirits, purifying alcohol, and dice sets. This wasn’t from Tuivi’s Rest, all of this came from all over the Oligarchy. Kai Ren paper bundles, Stryker metal ingots, dried breaker fruit, and books and manuscripts made by Core Civitus authors.

She circled places and events in a mental map and the idea of how far and wide this really went became clear.

“Ya know, I never stole anything when I went to those places. “

Vega kept her head facing forward but spoke to Kaliba who rested on her shoulder. “These guys are no good.”

Making heavy thuds on the stone pier, her object grew closer and closer. Cranes and men overhead in the ship bark orders, the sound of men grunting as they pull ropes in unison are common here.

“Huh. It’s like when-when I was underneath the Gladiato Ultra. Same sweaty guys too.”

“HEY! Get back to work!” A shaven bandit screamed down to her.

“You got it!” Picking up her pace, she turned the corner to where the bridge onto the Soft Belly lay. Currently a line of men were ascending it carrying empty boxes, many of them grumbling and having light conversation. Quickly scooping up a box and getting behind a dark skinned man in orange dress.

“So…”

“What?!” The man swiveled his shoulders and arms into her, nearing knocking her off into the water. Clearing her non-existent throat, she made a big bear of a voice.

“So, what is the deal… man?”

“Oh. Yes.” Running his hand through his coily hair, he too cleared his throat. “Everyone will be working in sections. Don’t touch what the snake fuckers don’t want us to touch. Roughly a load of three tons, we should be done within the hour.” He leaned over and told the details more to the men around rather than Vega herself. The grumbling among them grew louder for a short period but soon lowered again.

“An hour?! Ahem, I mean, an hour? That will be past, uh, supper. Yes.”

“I know boy. But these officers are paying us a premium. I say it’s worth it.”

You hear that? You’re doomed.

This was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. This can’t work, Vega knew. Summoning up a plan for improvisation, she would not let the Voice destroy her motivation. She had to come up with something. Anything!

“... I can carry the stuff.”

“Ha! What you say?”

“I can carry the stuff.” Vega projected her voice and stood him on her toes, catching the attention of everyone there. “I mean, I bet you can carry all of that stuff, for ten silvers.” Closing her eyes hoping that they wouldn’t detect her obvious subterfuge, she tapped her foot fast and put her arms crossed, trying to seem proud.

“I bet that you can’t, for twenty silvers in under thirty minutes.” A hoarse voiced gray haired bloke shouted from the pier.

“No-no! I bet thirty silvers in twenty!” Another man betted.

“I bet thirty two in seventeen.” And then another! Soon as one man betted a more insane dare, three more followed after with increasing more outlandish bets. The dark skinned sailor acted as an auction man, noting the bets as the pier below rioted, all seeking the best bet.

“I bet seven gold for seven minutes!” A blue haired elder sitting on top another man cried out, as all the others gasped in shock.

“Going once. Going twice… sold!” Excitement brewed in all the men as a air of tension started. “You ready to do this boy?”

And Vega? She was all the happier because not only did she believe she could win, but could do it in record time.

“Ready? I’ve been ready. Let’s do-do this!”

“Ha! Alright. Starting… now!” Dashing sp fast that water on her flew off, she ran into the lower levels of the ship. Immediately taking inventory of the format of the cargo, she knew that couldn’t do this without some good ole finesse.

Yes, she wasn’t going to simply steal the documents from and get out of there. Because that would make too much sense for her.

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“Kaliba, any ideas?”

“Simplify.” It waved a wing towards a wall of pots with mattresses and rugs before it. Clever, she knew that instead of carrying each object individually, she’d throw them up instead.

“Just like Bolato did to me. Let’s go!” Skitting across the floor and heaving a mattress into her arms, she laid it at the top of the stairs.

“Fourteen, fifteen-” Hearing the time count, she wasted no time in her tossing of pots. In the motion of a sportsman, she pelted the pots up the stairs at lighting pace. As they reached the fifty mark, she’d run back up stairs and pushed the mattress full of pots towards a net hanging from a crane.

She wasn’t worried about losing coins, but she grew tense with the count, assuming that when it reached seven minutes, the incoming ship would spell failure. Not stopping to worry, she adjusted the crane right down beside the bandits, with cheers crying out.

“That’s the pots down!” The dark skinned pirate announced.

“This ain’t over. This ain’t over!” A showman's voice came out of her, with the men now chanting out the count.

Racing down again, she repeated the process for military sandals, baskets of dried fruit, and everything that she could throw with two hands. When bringing down the final bit of the goods, the count was at two minutes.

“Making good pace, we should be done before-” Stopping in her verbal tracks, the rest of the cargo was stored in long nailed together boxes. Taller then herself, she’d surely snap in half if she even tried to carry one. “...nevermind. What the actually fuck?”

She shouldn’t stop, she can’t stop. Like water in winter, it must keep moving lest it freezes and ceases.

“Got to come up with something.” As her mind scrambled through memory of things used to transport heavy boxes, her mind went to carts. But the carts here were far too big and inconvenient, they’d never fit inside the staircase. Unless…

Flying up the stairs and back onto the main deck, she saw her prize, a cart meant to be operated by two. Reaching her hand into her backpack and pulling it out like it was a sword in a scabbard, she equipped her pickaxe.

“Don’t fail me now-now.” Whispering to her weapon, she jumped high into the air and slammed the metal head into the middle of the cart, splitting it if a bit unevenly.

“Is he mad?”

“Can it really be done?

“Oh baby! Here comes my seven gold!” All the men had something to say for the scene they were witnessing. As I said previous, it starts with simple curiosity and progress to supreme intellect.

In one motion she landed and carried the hand cart back down the stairs. Leveling the first tall box with the pickaxe, she carefully and steadily positioned it into the cart.

“Heave ho!” With an explosion of force, she lifted the cart as she charged forwards. The wheel rose high and in just five seconds, she carried the whole box to the top deck, with the bandits cheering her on. Their chanting became a background instrument in the rhythm of work. Like a choreographed dance, Vega cleared the storage space in a matter of three minutes.

“He’s really gonna do it!”

“That’s five minutes! One! Two-” The pirate repeated the count as the scarecrow finished craning down the last of the boxes.

“The only thing left should be the plans.”

“Go.” Kaliba urged her on. Down the stairs she went and searched for anymore boxes. The entire hull had been cleared. “Must be another floor.”

And she was right, seeing a trap down at the rightmost corner of the storage. Kicking it open, it was a brown dark with the sound of scrambling rats. She took off her backpack and placed it on the ground. Shoving her whole arm in, she dug deep for what she needed. Her hand grabbed a stick with a rounded head. Unbuttoning her jacket and taking out a gold piece, she struck at the head, making a great glowing blue.

“Flash sticks are weird-weird.” She said, as she jumped down into the opening, sliding down a ladder. Landing on her feet, she raised the flash stick in front of her. She gasped, as what was in front of her shocked her to her core…

“It’s a chest!”

It was a chest. In fact, it was two chests. Nothing else besides wooden pillars and a family of rats backing away from the light. Knowing that the ship could be there any moment, she slides towards the front of the chest.

They had been nailed down with silver metal, as an insignia of a wolf's head engraved on the wood of each chest. Side by side, they were scarily mundane, despite what was inside them. Their sizes was that of a boar, wide and fat and full of nasty guts.

“Moment of truth-truth.” Stepping back up and giving two quick swings to the locks on the chests, she threw them open. Golden parchment shined, radiating a soft yellow across Vega’s hidden face. It almost seemed to dim the light coming from the flash stick she was holding. In these very chests were the plans. The plans. The plans that could shape the future of both the Iozians and Tripolians.

Sad thing is, she knew she didn’t have space for both. Dumping out all of the contents in her pockets and backpack, flooding the empty room with a random assortment of tools and utility. Every then, there couldn’t be enough space to grab all the plans.

“No.”

Yes. Don’t even try. Get some help.

“Shut up.” Opening her jacket, she grabbed as much of the plans from each box as she could. Only managing to put three handfuls in her chest before realizing that it hadn’t even reduced the size by an inch.

“This ain’t good.” Her pace slowed as she looked up towards the ceiling. The voices above had shouted the six minute count. She gritted her animated teeth and shot straight up. “I’ve gotten this far on luck-luck. Don’t fail me now!” Swinging her at the nailed down parts of the chest on the right. She then poured as many papers into her backpack before considering what was essential for survival.

“Bandages? Nope! Caltrops? Nope!” Giving only a few words, she threw her previously much needed mission equipment in exchange for a better chance that these papers would have great significance. Wordlessly, she put her flare, pickaxe, and Skaldi’s ball bearings. It was much easier than confronting the chests.

She couldn’t understand the words on the sheets nor did she want to. The weight on her soul wouldn’t be able to make such world-defying acts.

Heh. A scarecrow deciding the fate of the mightest peoples on the continent. The world is totally fucked.

Only seconds to spare, Vega climbed from out the ship carrying the chest she didn’t loot from. Pride in their fellow crewmate rose as one by one, the pirates congratulated her on her achievement.

“Would you look at that? In under seven minutes. Pay up.” The dark skinned pirate shoved the elder man in front of Vega as she laid the chest on the ground. His bottom lip puffed out as he held his left arm in humiliation.

“Don’t worry mister. Keep-keep the gold.”

“Really?” He held his head up as a smile grew on her face.

“Sure! I can always beat you in the next bet-bet anyway.” In a genuine voice, the men around her laughed at this obvious joke as they crowded around the old man. He gave Vega a thumbs up and joined the crowd in their now sudden dance, gratefully not to do any work.

“By the way, how did you find the key?” The dark skinned bandit crouched by the chest, rubbing his thumb on the broken lock.

“Uh. What key?”

For a moment they stare, then the next they laugh together like brothers would. “What key! That’s hilarious! Go grab yourself a drink boy. You’ve earned it.”

Using this opportunity to sneak off, she walked off the bridge and back onto the pier. Gazing back to the horizon, the moon loomed as night began.

“Psst!”

“Bless you.”

“No-I mean. Psst!”

“Voice? Are ya doing that?”

“No! I’m behind the pots.” Stepping over to the pots in a horse cart, red hair could be seen peering over.

“Skaldi? What are ya doing here? Ya can’t survive the spore-spores.” She leaped onto the seat of the cart, seeing both his mask and goggles coated in yellow dots. There was a streak of bluish bruises along his right arm.

“One, I tuned out my sense of smell. Two, I was wearing four masks two hours ago. And three… I couldn’t leave my friend alone.”

“Aww. Ya do have a heart.”

“Shut the fuck up. He waved her forward as he took off his mask and goggles. Now go ahead and tell me what’s the problem.”

“... What problem-problem?”

“You’re kidding! You actually forgot this time?”

“What do ya mean? Everything is fine.”

“...Then… Then why was there a flare in the sky?”