On the morning of First Moon the first, in the 24th year of the reign of Her Majesty Queen Viola III, deep in the North Tarakkis, the Black Remora was hunting.

A three-sail warship with state-of-the-art cannons and a crew of professional cutthroats and desperate chancers, the ship had gone eight weeks without a kill and everyone was on edge. Sitting alone in the great cabin, Captain Hyde did not doubt his position—he was not that kind of man—but he knew that the longer the crew’s blades went thirsty the more trouble the crew were going to be, and he had a bad habit of running sailors through when they failed to live up to the standards of civilised men.

Dressed in the practical garb of a sailor, Captain Doctor Brutus J. Hyde—to give his formal name—was distinguishable by his fisherman’s cap and ferocious mien. A savage and cunning man, especially in battle, he was nevertheless cultured, and kind to those he was close to.

He went over the charts again, stroking the kitten he’d saved from the last litter.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come,” he said.

Bludger, his quartermaster, entered. A muscly white dog with pink ears, Bludger was built like a bullshark and was not happy. He glowered.

“The crew are restless,” Hyde said matter-of-factly.

“Aye.”

“Let’s get this over with then. I have a new course. The obvious one.”

He rose, setting down the kitten—he hadn’t decided yet on a name—and the two of them strode out onto the quarterdeck and down to the main deck.

The entire crew was waiting.

“I say we set course for Vår,” Hyde said without preamble, “heading west around the Grout. The Laudanese patrols will have moved further south by now.”

“Agreed,” Bludger said.

“Slim pickings,” Hutch said dismissively. A lean, withered goat, the former captain remained well-respected among the crew. “I say better to give the Trangiars another sniff.” A few of the crew murmured assent.

“Always a few spice stragglers,” Bludger replied.

“More likely this year, too,” Tina said.

“And if not?” Hutch retorted.

“We got grub,” Davo growled. “Let’s kill some chunters.”

More voices broke in, and the hubbub dragged on for a few minutes. Hyde waited until it had died down. Everyone was a little sullen, mainly because they knew their options were limited. The repairs had been long and costly—and all of them had, after all, voted to take to sea rather than overwinter in Ogonik.

“What say you?” Hyde said, calling it. The crew muttered to each other for a moment, but one by one they placed their votes—black for Vår, white for the Trangiers—into Bludger’s bucket. He separated the stones in front of everyone: the result was clear enough.

“Vår it is then,” Hyde said and, that decided, the crew quickly began dispersing. The bucket chinked and chunked as they tossed their unused stones.

“The lubbers need work,” Bludger said. “We’re too slow for my liking.”

“It’s Nexus. Let’s give it a day or two.”

After a moment’s silence, Bludger grunted assent. “You’re on dinner.”

##

Next episode: Bludger