Kalandra had been alone for what seemed like a hundred lifetimes. All she could remember was being trapped in the dark and oppressively humid dungeon. The restraints that affixed her arms to the cold iron chair were immovable. When the Prophetess first had invaded her mind, Kalandra had tried to fight back, but with each pull at her chains or shout into the dark, her energy was sapped.

It would take days, or what felt like days, of recovery before she could even speak and days more until her body could gather the strength to move. The iron chair was freezing but, the room was hot. The air was thick, yet it seemed she could never get a full breath of it. She was always on the edge of collapse but never granted the mercy of unconsciousness.

Over and over, the cycle would continue. When her strength was regained, she would struggle and attempt to break free, only to be drained again. Finally, after she’d lost count of her attempts at escape, she relented. This prison was designed to reward struggle with misery. Apathy would at least mean she could keep her senses.

The crushing loneliness was even worse. In a real prison, she could at least rest assured someone was alive in there with her. The screams of tortured victims, the cries of the broken, the guards bringing you a pitiful meal. But here, nothing. The only sound in the room was dripping water. It echoed off invisible walls, never ceasing, never caring.

This day, or perhaps night, as it always had, the dripping continued. Darkness filled the formless room, thick as the stifling air. She’d lost all sense of time or hope. Now, she sat, blank faced; removed.

Then, a small thing happened. A cool breeze suddenly swirled through the air. Then, it was gone. Kalandra’s head shot up, alert. The sheer newness of the sensation was like a punch in the gut. Her eyes darted left and right and saw nothing but darkness. She knew what she’d felt though.

Through the quiet, a very distant rumbling started to vibrate the floor beneath her iron chair. At first, it was is if she were hearing machinery from miles away through a cave wall. The sound continued to grow in intensity. The rumble became a rolling and the rolling a roar. Soon, the entire room felt like it would fall apart around her as it bucked and jolted.

The ferocious sound and violent shaking should have frightened her, but anything other than her present situation was preferable, even death. Her heart pounded in her chest with anticipation.

Then, the sound ceased, and the room was flooded with bright white light.

For a few moments, the glow was too intense. Unable to move her arms, she could only close her eyes as tightly as possible. Suddenly, a soothing baritone reached her ears. The sound of another human was more than she could process. She drank up every word.

“Hello there. My name is Jim. Can you understand me?” the voice asked.

She chanced to open her eyes as joyful tears welled up and fell onto her lap. Ahead of her, the blurry image took form. It was a man. He had a warm expression on his face that almost hid a look of concern. This was no servant of the Prophetess. He smiled and asked again in his soft voice, “Can you understand me?”

It had been so long since she’d spoken. Nearly as long since she had bothered to form a thought that might be translated into words but, she did understand him. Slowly, she nodded her head. Tears poured freely from her eyes. If she died now, at least she’d seen another person.

The man smiled again. His eyes were kind, but there was weariness behind them. He reached out a hand toward where she was sitting and said, “Let’s get those restraints off of you.” Suddenly, the shackles on her arms and legs were gone. Not just broken. Gone. He reached down and grabbed her hand in his own. It was warm; real.

“What is your name?” the man who called himself Jim asked. She realized, she’d have to speak. As he helped her stand slowly to her feet, she tried to conjure up the words. Even moving her mouth felt like an ability unused for a lifetime. Finally though, she spoke, slowly at first, “My n….name is...my name is..is Kalandra. Kalandra Meyer.”

Jim smiled again and replied, “Kalandra Meyer, welcome back… to freedom. Her mind’s prison vanished. She was alive again. She was free.

***

“You know,” Henry said as he parried another rapid strike from Jim’s wooden practice scimitar, “I dare say, you’re getting better at this.” Batting away a sideways slash that would no doubt leave a normal man bruised, Henry jolted behind his slower human opponent and swatted him on the backside with the flat of his sword.

Jim stumbled forward and rubbed his right cheek. From nearby, the gathered crew members laughed and cheered him on. Kalandra also stood at the fringe of the group, quietly watching. It had only been a day since her release from the Prophetess’ control. Like a lost soul searching for a liferaft, she’d latched onto Jim.

He had tried to warn her away, insisting that he made for lousy conversation, but she wasn’t deterred. “Besides,” she’d told him, “I’m not much of a talker either.”

“You going to let him kick your ass? Literally?” Taruh shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

Even Harol, the lead deckhand, had taken a break from his usual duties to watch. The man was a machine, focused on whatever task he felt was most important to the point of seeming to be without emotion. Today though, he couldn’t pass up a chance to see Henry in action. “Ay! Do clockwork men have balls?” he shouted. “Find ‘em and go for a cheap shot, Jim!”

More laughter.

Jim was breathing heavily. The practice swords were made from hard peqin wood, meant to simulate weight and strength of steel as closely as wood could. His sword arm was tiring and his reaction time was lengthening. The sparring match had been hopeless from the start, he knew, but repeated fights against the much faster clockwork man were doing wonders at honing his skills.

Jim had always been confident with a blade. Unlike fire and air, his earth awakened powers were not much use on the Liberator. He’d purposed to sharpen his swordplay abilities to retain his usefulness.

He continued to circle his opponent as the crowd cheered him on. Bets were passed around and taunts were flung at both sides. Knowing that no human could hope to best Henry in a duel, the bets weren’t placed on a victor, but rather points. If Jim could land five blows to Henry’s fifty, it was considered a victory for Jim. He was at three.

Seeing another potential opening, Jim thrust his sword toward Henry’s midsection. It was batted away with ease. Jim expected the move and used the sudden sideward momentum to spin his body around and slash low. In any form of swordplay, a spin was considered foolish showmanship. Fun to watch on stage perhaps, but impractical in a real fight. Jim was counting on it.

He dropped to the deck and rolled sideways in a 360 degree arc. Henry sliced through the air, but Jim had already gone too low. His preposterous move was met with a satisfying clang of wood on brass as his sword met Henry’s mobility ball. The crowd erupted. More crewman crept out from below deck to watch the spectacle. Money flowed between the two sides with new enthusiasm.

Henry laughed at Jim’s audacity. “Haha. You never cease to amaze, Jim” he taunted. “It makes sense that you would resort to… childish tactics.” There was a hint of annoyance in his voice.

He darted to Jim’s left and slashed at his leg. Jim stumbled sideways to parry and was thrown off balance in the process. Taking advantage of Jim’s misstep, Henry continued around and struck twice before Jim could respond. Again, the crowd cheered.

Taruh, who had been keeping score shouted, “Fourty-eight to four. Henry leading!”

Jim was spent. His lungs heaved to gather oxygen from the rarified air. Over the months, he’d adjusted to life at high altitudes, but he still had limits. The ship rocked gently under his feet as he regained his footing. “Is that a hint of anger I sense?” he taunted back.

Henry laughed and shook his metallic head, “No, just disappointment. I thought I’d taught you better. It seems, you need another painful lesson.” Before Jim could respond, Henry thrust at his left shoulder. His blow was parried but, his next attacks were already thought out. A slash to the right was met with another successful block but the thrust to Jim’s left pelvis was not.

Jim bent over in pain and shouted, “Damnit Henry. That was too hard!” The crowd was in hysterics, shouting, “Final blow, final blow!” Henry shrugged and leaned down to Jim. “Sorry about that, Jimmy. I'll make the last one quick,” he replied.

Jim’s stance snapped straight again. His hand shot out as the sword was instantly turned into a projectile. The last effort of a desperate man. It sailed through the air and impacted Henry’s right shoulder. Many crewmen found themselves suddenly stripped of their winnings.

Despite the majority of them betting on the wrong victor, the crew cheered at Jim’s desperation move. It was his first time ever scoring five hits before Henry reached fifty. A spiritual victory if nothing else. Henry, laughing at the preposterousness of it all, rolled over to the heaving Jim and lightly tapped him on the shoulder with his blade for the fiftieth point.

With the match concluded, Jim lay on his back for a minute and caught his breath. Soon, the others had returned to their normal duties. Kalandra had been assigned by Harol to attend to mess hall cleaning work. All new crew members had to work their way up to the more desirable positions. Glancing over one more time to ensure Jim was alright, she disappeared quietly through the door below the quarterdeck.

The deck was quiet again aside from the steady breeze and low hum of their dual steam powered propellers. Thin wispy clouds drifted by overhead as their ship continued its journey west.

Jim reached up to accept Henry’s hand up. Sweat was pouring down Jim’s face, but he was all smiles. He hobbled over to the portside railing and rested on his forearms, watching the dune sea crawl by below. Squinting, he could make out a small line of landships also moving west.

Landships were the bulk trade vessels of choice in Ruin. Even a small cutter could haul three times the cargo weight of a similarly sized airship. Despite the ongoing post-war purge in the conquered lands of the Federation, trade from the south was still active. If the reported guerilla action within newly conquered Alliance territory was making a difference, it didn’t show.

Henry rolled alongside Jim and slapped him on the back. “I think I’m a bad influence on you, Jimmy boy,” he joked. You’re becoming a downright dirty fighter.” He turned and leaned back against the rail. Metal screeched as he attempted to mimic the human habit of crossing one’s arms.

Jim flinched and replied, “I’ve always fought dirty. In my prior career, there was no other way. It’s more likely, you’re growing too confident in my failings.” He leaned over the railing a bit further, trying to catch the cool breeze on his sweat drenched head. It had taken some months and a few frightening battles but, most of his fear of heights was gone. The Liberator was his home now.

Henry laughed. His voice always sounded oddly metallic when he did so; as if the machinery holding his ether cube was not designed for it. Shrugging, he replied, “I suspect, you’ve been underestimated plenty of times in your life. It’s too bad Sandra wasn’t around though. Now, she is almost a challenge.”

Jim sighed, “You and I both know, where Vachir goes, she goes.” Earlier that day, Vachir and Sandra had set out ahead of the Liberator in the small cutter landship normally stored below-deck. The plan was for them to arrive in Freeport a day early and aquire a pass to moor The Liberator, likely through a series of bribes.

While docked, they would take on supplies and the crew would enjoy a few days of leave. During their stay, Vachir would meet with the Protectorate ambassador to the Unaligned League - a nebulous alliance of most free ports and trade towns not associated with the empires of Ruin.

According to Emat’s prophecy, the next clue to the key’s location was located deep in Protectorate territory. Unfortunately, their cities were strictly off limits to outsiders. It was a long shot but, Vachir hoped he still held some weight with the northern empires and could secure an entrance.

Henry interrupted Jim’s thoughts, asking, “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Suppose what is?” Jim inquired.

“Why do you suppose she follows him around like a lost puppy?” Henry asked.

Jim laughed and replied, “More like a lost tiger. That woman is a walking death sentence for anyone who happens to get on her bad side.” Henry nodded as Jim added, “It’s likely some sense of duty to him. Neither of them likes to talk about their Federation days, but get enough alcohol in someone and well, even the strongest willed soldier opens up.”

“Oh?” Henry asked, “do tell.”

Jim shrugged and replied, “There isn’t much to tell. A month or so ago, after our raid on that Alliance convoy, they celebrated a bit too hard and got pretty smashed. The conversation eventually led to their time as soldiers. Seems they served together for something like twenty years before the uhh… the last battle.” They shared a moment of silence. The glow of the capital city fires still burned fresh in their memories.

Jim continued, “They’ve saved each other’s lives a dozen times over in more fights than you’d imagine.”

“And you don’t think all that time in the heat of battle would have resulted in a closer relationship?” Henry asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.

Jim thought about it for a moment and shook his head, “Honestly, I don’t know. Relationships, romance. They’re all a bit out of my depth.”

“Speaking of which,” Henry asked, “I noticed Captain Rychist wasn’t there to watch your flogging. Trouble in paradise?”

Jim sighed, “Always.” Turning toward the forecastle, he stared at the door to the captain’s cabin. Since their nearly disastrous raid the day before, both had been avoiding each other. She knew what he was going to say and he knew the argument that would ensue. He still had to try.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Well, Henry. If I don’t make it out alive, speak well of me at my funeral.”

As he started toward the door, Henry grabbed him by the shoulder and commented, “Perhaps you should clean yourself up first. You know… pretty corpse and so on.”

***

“Dammit, Jim. I’m sick and tired of you treating my like a brittle desert flower. I don’t need you to come to my rescue every five minutes and I don’t need you choosing my missions for me. I knew the risks going in and you -”

“Are you really that oblivious?” Jim interrupted. “There’s a child growing inside you. Our child. This isn’t about you. It stopped being about you or myself the moment we found out. Throwing yourself into harm’s way goes way beyond personal decision.”

Jim fell backwards onto the bed in the corner of their small cabin He closed his eyes and tried to cool the anger that was building up inside. “This has become a problem we can’t just give up on and walk away from.”

Alia stormed across the cabin and thrust a finger toward Jim, “You are the problem, Jim. You find problems in everything. You find fault in all I do. I’m not a child. In fact, I’m much older than you. As for our...baby,” there was something alarming to him in her emphasis, “I’m not going to let it get in the way of my duties as a captain. If it lives, it lives. If not, it wasn’t meant to be.”

Jim had gotten to know Alia very well over their short tumultuous relationship. She was many things, but none of them were superstitious. He rubbed his temples in frustration and sat up. Shaking his head, he asked, “Since when did you start believing in things like fate?”

Alia sniggered in disgust and turned toward the door. Before should could get far, Jim stood up and protested, “No. Not this time. You can walk out on any other fight, but not this one.”

Willing himself to calm down, he said, more gently, “Alia, when you mentioned our child, I couldn’t help but notice a bit of… disappointment in your voice.”

She stopped but continued to face the door. Her response was hushed. “No, Jim,” she replied gently. “I’m not disappointed. I… No. That’s a lie. I am disappointed.”

Jim’s heart sank at her words.

She continued, “I’d always assumed that I could never have children. After years as a breeder and so many lost children, I was barren. For a long time, that didn’t mean anything to me. Raising a family was the last thing on my mind. I had a ship, a crew, responsibilities.”

“But then, I came along and messed all that up,” Jim said.

Alia turned to face him. Her face was still red but, her anger was bleeding away into sadness. “You don’t understand,” she replied. “I was happy that I couldn’t have children. It meant that I was one less person at risk of spawning more slaves for that bitch. Without the ability to conceive, I could at least deny her that one thing.”

Jim crossed the cabin and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Is that what this is about?” he asked. “You’re afraid of conceiving some sort of monster?”

Alia stared ahead, stone faced. Finally, she nodded and replied, “Yes, Jim. I’m afraid, ok? Is that what you wanted to hear? Captain Rychist is afraid.” She turned away from him and added, “What if the Prophetess did something to me while I was under her control? What’s to say our child won’t be-”

Jim turned her around gently. Placing his hand on her face, he replied “Alia, anything that comes from you could be nothing less than perfect.”

She smiled and replied, “That was sweet, but really cheesy” They both chuckled.

“Please just promise me one thing,” Jim said.

“What’s that?” Alia replied.

“Until the baby is born, no more off-ship adventures.”

Alia took a deep breath and collected herself. “Ok, Jim,” she relented. “No more off ship… adventures until after the baby is born.”

Jim didn’t quite know what to say. With feigned surprise, he asked, “Sorry, but… did I just win an argument?”

A smile crept up one side of Alia’s face. The corner of her mouth opposite of her scar was slightly higher. It was one of the quirks Jim loved about her.

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” Alia warned. “Besides, men don’t win arguments. They just lose a bit less sometimes.”

Sitting back down and raising his hands in surrender, he added, “Now that that’s over, there is one other thing I’d like to do to ensure our child is healthy.” Alia raised a suspicious eyebrow and crossed her arms.

Patting on the bed he asked, “Would you mind laying down for me please?”

Alia rolled her eyes, “Sex? Really? Jim, I really don’t think now is the time to-”

“No no no,” he interrupted. “Not that. Although that would be pretty great...” She punched him in his arm and they both laughed. He tried to push that particularly appealing thought out of his mind as he continued, “As you know, awakened of earth have the ability to heal others. But, I believe I can also… well, I don’t know the right word for it but uhh, diagnose?”

Alia tilted her head and asked, “Diagnose what?”

Jim replied, “Do you remember the cave back after we escaped the Prophetess’ ambush?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Where you healed me and I returned the favor by kicking your ass.”

Jim shook his head and replied, “I recall being on the giving end of that ass kicking.” They both laughed and, he received a few more punches in the arm, which was becoming quite sore.

“Ok ok!” he shouted. “What I was getting at was, I didn’t just heal you. Somehow, during the process, I gained an intimate understanding of every injury to your body. It was as if I could feel each wound and transfer the pain to myself in order to heal it.”

“What are you getting at?” she asked skeptically.

“I think I can… diagnose our child.”

Alia began to protest, but Jim held up a hand. “Whoa whoa, hang on,” he said. “This is different than healing, Alia. It doesn’t cause me harm. It’s simply a way for us to ensure the baby wasn’t injured back on that ship when you were struck by that priest. Also, let’s not forget, I have the ability to remove any control the prophetess might have on another’s mind.”

He thought back to his earlier experience with Kalandra and the other fire awakened who he learned was named Rashid. The mental toll it took during each cleansing made him respect the late Doctor Hanson even more. The man had freed the many among the crew of The Liberator, one by one, long before Jim had joined them.

“If she does somehow have a hold on our child,” Jim added. “I can break it. Our baby won’t be a ‘monster.’ Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Alia sat in silence and squinted her eyes. Finally, after what Jim assumed must have been a conflicted inner monologue, she nodded. “Ok,” she replied. “But please, be careful. The youngest person Benjamin ever cleansed was sixteen. I don’t even know if you can get into the mind of a three month old unborn child.”

Jim nodded and placed his hands above the small bump that would undoubtedly grow to be quite large in the next six months. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The world slipped away.

The sensations that flooded him were beyond visual but not quite a physical feeling. It was as if he simply knew every part of Alia’s body. He could sense a slight pain in her lower back. No doubt, from being thrown into the bulkhead by the awakened priest’s lightning. He resisted the urge to heal her and continued his search.

His journey through his second sight was slow. Suddenly, he picked up a faint heartbeat. It was far too rapid to be Alia’s. Suddenly, he took a sharp breath as his second sight reached her womb. Jim was overcome with emotion.

Although he was travelling through her body with awakened powers, he was faintly aware that tears were forming in his eyes back in the waking world. As if down a long hallways, he could hear Alia’s concerned voice asking, “What’s wrong Jim? You’re crying.”

Willing himself back into the present, he slowly opened his eyes. The world was a blur until he wiped away the tears. In front of him, Alia’s face was white with horror. “Oh gods, what is it? Is it dead? Oh no no no I can’t-”

Jim shook his head and smiled. “No,” he replied, “They’re not dead. And they're free from any control. Far from it.”

Alia’s eyes widened, “They? Are you saying..”

“Yes,” Jim replied. “You’re pregnant with twins. Two girls and, I’ve no doubt, they will be a beautiful and healthy as their mother.”