Sasha groaned and tried to sit up. Immediately, a wave of dizziness sent him horizontal. The back of his head was still aching, but something about this pain was different from the usual nightly episodes.

“I think I hit my head,” he commented to himself. In response, a familiar moan from his gamail echoed off bare walls. He concentrated and tried to recall the previous day’s events. The sand… the storm… the… cave! he realized with alarm.

It all came back to him. Cannibals! He jolted upward again and tried to shake his head and clear his spinning vision until he was centered. Sasha’s heart quickened. Grogginess was replaced by a sense of painful alert. The heavy thudding in his chest synced with the pulsing pain in the back of his head. He took inventory of the space around him. It was a cavern, definitely. Very unlike a cavern though, it was artificially constructed.

The roof and floor were perfectly flat and straight. Along the walls, a strange transparent crystal, or glass, perhaps, he thought, ran straight into the darkness of the passage. He turned around. Down the opposite end of the hallway, a faint orange light flooded in from the outside world.

The silhouette of his gamail was black against the morning light. It was grazing upon something on the passage floor. Mushrooms, he guessed. It appeared to be perfectly content in what it was doing, so Sasha turned back to the dark end of the hallway.

“Perhaps not cannibals,” he whispered to the dark. His curiosity overcame his fear and he headed deeper into the darkness.

***

“General, wait! A moment of your time please!” Vachir recognized the voice of Freeport’s governor, Shera Lin.

Next to him, Sandra Mason was tying down the last of the rigging. The crew of the Liberator scattered about the topdeck making preparations to undock.. Leaning over to Vachir she whispered, “Ten coins if you work ‘I told you so’ into the conversation.”

Vachir chuckled and replied, “That wouldn’t be very professional of me, Sandra.”

They both tried to hide their smiles as the Governor approached. She was a somewhat portly woman in her late forties and was laboring up the last few steps. She panted as she stepped wearily onto the deck. Beads of sweat matted her black-greying hair.

“General, you *pant* can’t leave yet. *pant* You’ll be needed *pant* here soon.” The governor leaned over and grabbed her knees, trying to catch her breath.

From the forecastle, Jim and Alia emerged and made their way over to the group.

After taking a few more gulps of air, the governor righted herself and tried again, “General, as of now, this dock is closed to civilian traffic. Article twenty two of the League charter states that, ‘in wartime, all League civilian vessels may be called upon to serve a military role in defense of their nation.’”

As if to emphasize her point, a pair of league guards marched up the stairway to their ship berth. Their rifles were slung behind their backs, but Vachir spotted a hint of stiffness in their gait and a cold awareness on their faces.

Alia, stepped in. “Governor,” she replied, “we have no intention of sticking around. We’ve been warning you and the others for months. We told you this would happen and, you know what we got? Laughed out of every office more times than I care to count.”

“So, the war you wanted has finally come and you choose to abandon us?” the governor asked.

“No,” came Alia’s reply, “First of all, we don’t want war.”

“Perhaps, I chose my words poorly,” the governor said. “What I meant was -”

“Second,” Alia interrupted. “I’m not that vindictive.” Jim prodded her with an unbelieving glance. He was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs. She continued, “However, we have people all over northern Ruin finding awakened potentials and bringing them to safety. Our first duty is to them.”

“Besides,” Vachir interjected, “You and the ambassador did say, I am a… what did you call it? ‘Non-citizen’ I believe were his exact words. Frankly, we have no obligation to you or anyone else.”

“Not even to your home country, the Federation?” the governor asked.

A moment of pain crossed Vachir’s face. Before he could reply, Sandra said angrily, “We have no home. The Free Citizens Federation is gone. We have warned the Unaligned League, the Protectorate, and the Northern Tribes’ governments of what’s coming. What you are now facing. Yet -”

“Yes, alright.” the governor interrupted. “We should have listened.” She turned to Vachir. “General. You can go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?” Vachir asked.

“I told you so,” the governor replied.

Sandra half glared, half grinned at Vachir. “That doesn’t count,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Now’s not the time for that,” Vachir replied dryly.

Sandra let out a sigh, catching the Governor’s attention and Vachir’s disapproving head shake.

The governor continued, “I know you have no obligation to me or the Unaligned League. However, I -”

“Wait, wait! Don’t leave yet!” a voice interrupted from the ship berth below.

Alia rolled her eyes and mumbled, “The Prophetess does exactly what we’ve been warning everyone about for months and suddenly, we’re the most popular people around.”

Ambassador Fredrickson emerged from below and made his way up the gangway. Like the governor before him, he was panting. His face was the trademark pasty white of every Protectorate citizen.

The ambassador approached the group and took a moment to catch his breath.

Jim commented, “Governor, if you and others like you are going to make a habit of running up these air berths, you should consider installing a lift.” There was a snort from Vachir.

Alia crossed her arms and asked, “So Ambassador, how can the suddenly important Liberator and his faithful crew assist you today? I don’t suppose the Protectorate is at war now too?” The assembled crew chuckled.

“Yes… well maybe… or probably. I’m not sure actually. That’s why I’m here.”

“Wait, what?” Jim asked.

“I’ve just received word from our embassy in the Alliance capital of Trest.” the ambassador replied. “Before they went silent, they reported that Alliance soldiers had breached the embassy walls and were placing our citizens under house arrest.”

“Hold on a second,” Alia held up a hand. “How could you possibly have just received word? It would take the fastest airship days to cross from Trest to here. Last I checked, aside from the League ship that came in, none have docked recently.”

“We have… technological means of expediting communications from one place to another,” he replied with a practiced response.

“And naturally,” Sandra replied dryly, “You don’t wish to share your precious secrets with with the rest of the world.”

Fredrickson ignored her and continued, “I have confirmed with my government that, the Prophetess’ and Alliance forces were turned back about fifty kilometers east of Shining.” He turned to the governor and added, “We intercepted and halted the advance of a very large force of air and landships bound for Freeport.”

The governor’s face went white. There was a moment of grim silence before she replied, “Then, we have you to thank for our continued freedom. But, why? I thought the Protectorate preferred neutrality and non-interference. Not that I am not deeply grateful for the gesture of friendship from our southern neighbors.”

The ambassador waved away the governor’s remark, “Yes. And, we maintain that stance. However, we will not allow the armies of any empire pass through our territory. Our open borders policy does not extend to machines of war. If the Alliance wants Freeport badly enough, it can traverse the western wastes, through cannibal territory.”

“Cannibal lands are barren for a reason.” Jim said. “If you look hard enough, you might find a skeleton or two of foolish traders or adventurers who were stupid enough to traverse it. I’ll bet, being told to move through their territory didn’t sit very well with the Prophetess,”

“Indeed it did not,” Fredrickson replied. “That’s why I’ve come to ask for your help. Ambassador Holin, our representative in Trest has been placed under house arrest.”

Sighing, he added, “Although our military is significantly more advanced, we are not...equipped to mount a rescue operation without sparking an incident that will lead to all out war. That’s why I’ve come. To ask you for a favor.”

Sandra was the first to respond, “Ambassador, I’m not sure what rumors you’ve been privy to but, we’re not equipped to ‘mount a rescue mission’ as you say. The Liberator is a good ship, but Trest is the capital of the Alliance. The city is bristling with turnguns.”

“Many of them plundered from the Federation,” Vachir added.

Sandra nodded and continued, “Not to mention, the invasion group is likely billeted up within its walls, licking their wounded egos after being denied passage through your lands.”

Fredrickson glanced at the governor before he replied, “Yes, such an attempt would certainly be suicide. However, I have a somewhat… unconventional mean of entering Trest that presents zero risk to you.”

“Nothing is ever zero risk. What’s in it for us?” Alia asked.

Fredrickson smiled. His perfect teeth looked out of place behind thin, pasty lips. “Entrance into the research city of Mountain’s Breath,” he replied. “That is what you have been trying to do for months, am I right?”

Alia held her excitement. “Throw in a couple thousand coin and you’ve got yourself a deal, ambassador,” she said with an icy tone.

Fredrickson little time to consider the offer. “Deal,” he said. “Now, with your permission, shall we head to the planning room and prepare a rescue plan?”

As they made their way to the aft porthole, Vachir leaned toward Fredrickson and commented, “Oh by the way ambassador, I told you so.”

Sandra Mason was out ten coins.

***

“You’re joking. Please tell me, you’re joking, because the only alternative is that you’re insane,” Henry exclaimed. Next to him, Jim and Ambassador Fredrickson watched as a craft surfaced from beneath the water.

The dark and abandoned floating warehouse was certainly an unlikely place to hide one of the Protectorate’s technological wonders. At the south end of Freeport, the steadily bobbing structure looked like just another ill kept old storage facility. Two League soldiers, disguised as common fishermen, poles and all, stood guard outside at all times.

Giant white bubbles of warm humid air erupted all around the emerging craft as it released its trapped atmosphere. Measuring at least a hundred and fifty meters long and made of what Jim could only describe to himself as “purple glass,” the craft was a mix of beautiful and ridiculous. The hull was almost entirely transparent. Inside, he could see people walking around and performing various tasks similar to the crew on a typical landship.

One man manipulated the controls near the bow of the cigar shaped vessel. Jim guessed the man was the captain or pilot. Other men lifted unmarked wooden crates from near the center of the vessel while more wandered around other areas. What really caught his eye though were the pairs of elongated ovals that protruded from the ventral and dorsal sides of the ship.

Sitting in strangely curved seats that were suspended on metallic poles from the ceilings of each bubble, the occupants wore strange goggles with wires protruding from them. The wires ran into larger wire bundles that traversed the length of the inner hull. Every few meters, the wires would connect to large square shaped lights.

Jim spotted short quad barrels protruding about thirty centimeters from the bubbles. Connected to each were more unusual looking strings and wires.

He tried to focus on the light sources that lined the hull, but they were too bright. Something was illuminating the entire transparent vessel from the inside. He had a feeling, it wasn’t fire. The familiar hum of ether cube machinery vibrated the water around the craft.

“There is no way in hell I am going into that… death trap,” Henry exclaimed.

A mischievous smile crossed the ambassador’s face as he snorted at Henry’s reaction.

The rising ship came to a stop with steady hiss. A door seemed to appear out of nowhere as a section of bulkhead near what was likely the cargo bay lowered into a ramp. The men handling the boxes began to unload them onto the nearby platform.

Henry rolled forward and backward as the floating platform bobbed under the weight of the loading crew. Still smiling at Henry, Fredrickson asked, “In what way is this submersible a ‘death trap,’ if I may ask?”

Henry was shaking. Jim was pretty sure he was trying to hide it but, the metallic nature of his voice betrayed him. “First off, I don’t know what a suberbible is but-”

“Submersible,” Fredrickson corrected him.

“Sure, fine, “Henry replied before continuing, “I don’t know what that is, but the thing is made of glass. Perhaps you haven’t noticed but, I’m made of brass, steel, and any number of other very heavy, very hard metals. I’d shatter that thing just bending over to tie my shoes.”

“I’d like to see how you wear shoes.” Jim commented.

Henry tried to roll his eyes, but the limits of his mechanisms failed him again, instead giving the appearance that he was examining the ceiling of the dilapidated warehouse. “And another thing,” he said. “It goes underwater. Water and clockwork men do not mix very well. Again, I’m made of metal.”

Jim nodded, “He’s got a point there. I’ve had to do some crazy things in my lifetime, but going underwater in a glass container is a bit beyond my uh… thrill threshold.”

Fredrickson chuckled and shook his head, “You have nothing to fear, boys.” Jim caught a condescending tone in the ambassador’s last word. “You see, this ship isn’t made of glass. It’s comprised mostly of black crystal and a few other elements that I’m not at liberty to describe to you.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Henry said. “And, black crystal? This much would be worth enough to buy… gods, I don’t know. A large city?”

“Let’s not forget,” Jim said, “black crystal dissolves in water. It’s how the Liberator and other airships get their lift steam. Even in cold water, this thing would corrode away in a matter of days.”

The ambassador’s voice held a tinge of impatience as he replied, “I would love to discuss the finer points of black crystal refining and material composition with you two, but I’m afraid we’re pressed for time here.”

“Young man, Jim was it?” he asked, pointing at Jim. “Can I borrow your pistol for a moment?”

Jim pulled the weapon from under his coat and handed it warily to the ambassador. Fredrickson’s humor returned. He smiled and added, “Don’t worry, my boy, I know how to handle a firearm.” Again, the condescension in his voice irked Jim. Glancing at Henry, he could see, his friend also seemed unhappy.

Turning back toward the submersible, Fredrickson leveled the pistol and fired. The shot rang out in the large floating warehouse.

Jim’s ears were still ringing as the ambassador handed the smoking weapon back to him. “You will notice, gentlemen, the ship is undamaged,” he noted smugly.

To emphasize his point, Fredrickson pointed at a small beam of sunlight piercing through a new bullet hole in the decaying roof. Henry let out a mechanical whistle. It sounded more like a tea kettle that had been forgotten too long on the burner.

Receiving no argument, the ambassador continued, “As for being underwater, you see those crates there?” He pointed to the growing pile of cargo still being unloaded by the two sailors. Jim nodded.

“Those are full of ether cubes. Blue ether cubes. As well as a significant amount of unrefined crystal. As you said, black crystal would dissolve in water. As you can see, the crates are quite dry. And the cubes too are still secure.”

Henry rolled over to the nearest crate and placed a hand on its unmarked surface. Turning back to the group, he exclaimed, “But, blue ether cubes… how? I thought these were only found in the mines around Golden Spire.”

“Listen,” the ambassador replied. “I will explain everything onboard, but we really must get going.” He turned to the cargo haulers and ordered, “Leave the crates outside with the guards. They know what to do.”

He turned back and crossed his arms. “Well? What will it be, gentlemen?”

Henry hesitated another moment before gingerly rolling up the ramp of the submersible and descending below. Jim could hear him mumbling as he rolled into the ship, “Damn my curiosity. I swear it’s going to kill me one of these days.”

Fredrickson followed behind. Jim was still nervous, but he’d heard more than a few stories of Protectorate technological marvels. He’d dismissed the wilder ones as superstitious trader talk, but standing in front of a completely transparent submersible ship with many enticing curiosities placed those assumptions in unsteady territory.

Jim could almost hear Alia’s voice as he remembered a conversation they’d had in the mess hall a few months earlier. “You know, Jim,” she’d said, “The greatest adventures usually start with the words ‘what the hell.’”

He already missed Alia. Surprisingly, she had opted not to argue with him when he insisted she stay with the Liberator.

At that moment, the Liberator was undocking with the rest of its crew. Earlier, Alia had agreed to a compromise with the governor. In exchange for their freedom of movement in League territory during wartime, they would come to the aid of any League vessel in distress.

Also, the governor placed a lucrative privateer contract on the negotiating table. One thousand coins for each landship destroyed. Five thousand for each airship. Double that for capturing one intact. Judging by the look on Alia’s face during their negotiations, Jim was sure she was holding back a loud WOOHOO.

Jim turned his attention back to the odd contraption bobbing in the water. Finally, he shrugged and turned to enter the impossible ship. As he walked through its clear entranceway, he echoed Alia’s words, “Ahhh, what the hell.”