Charles had lost weight over the last months and yet, he was struggling to keep up with the captain’s rushing pace. “Sorry, sorry, and a hundred sorry,” said the merchant, between heavy gasps. “Little I could do, Kang-lee influence amongst my men has grown heavily. He’s the one that managed to kick the Tampra soldiers after all.”

“You’re too soft, Charles,” Em snapped, dodging as a pair of Ujan fighters unloaded the last crate of weapons from the shipping platform. Apo, who followed, scratched his chin twice.

Peeta complained with a growl. The tugboat skipper had been one of Charles’s most trusted men. Now that one of the Blue officers gained more power after the withdrawal from Tampra, his loyalty had shifted like many others, seeing that Kang-Lee’s way of governing, much stricter and militaristic, was the best option to repel a possible counterattack from the former rulers. “Only two? Lord Kang won’t be happy.”

“He’s a Lord now? He was an Admiral yesterday!” Macha said loud and clear so that everyone could hear. Few, the ones still loyal to Charles, chuckled. Others kept the amusement private. Peeta frowned and gazed at the challenge. Macha reacted hanging his arms over the leather harness, right hand close to the holster. The C58 kalt, a front reloading cap and ball pistol was well placed between arm and chest. Months of hardship at the sea and endless training with the weapon had burst the kid’s confidence and self-esteem. It was time to show off, and Em wouldn’t complain. At the same time, Macha had not only learned to aim decently but to behave in every type of situation, just as Em had taught him, something that made the Captain prouder than any accurate shot.

“The Pelican has much more room than this Hulk, Charles,” Peeta complained. “We really can’t get rid of her.”

“Little I can do. That ship belongs to Cap’n Em.”

Em crossed his arms and stared at the man who had mistreated his beloved Ballerina for months. “Changing the name of a ship brings bad luck. Any experienced sailor knows that.” Peeta squeezed a dirty rag and stormed to the deck of his new ship; an old yawl, Em and Macha, had been using for months.

As Macha swaggered to his side, Em invited Charles to follow them to the contiguous peer. “I need to go back, sorry,” mumbled the merchant, standing his ground firmly. “Stop apologising, it weakens your authority,” Em said.

Charles shook his head. “It doesn’t. I have ordered my boys to return the diving bell and other equipment they had removed. Meanwhile, I will buy time so that you can set sail without further delay. Take care of yourselves, my friends.”

As Charles resumed his bouncing towards the town, Em took a quick look around, stopping his eyes on Apo. “Did you hide the other boxes?” the captain whispered.

Apo’s lip raised while sneaking a wink at Macha. The kid tapped the bulky Ujan fighter’s shoulder. “They’ll be ready when Tampra returns,” Macha said.

Em growled. “They will send a huge force, better to -“

Apo cut him off. “We know,”

“This Kang may betray you,”

“We know,” Apo raised his palm and Em reached to shake it firmly. Then, the Ujan man turned to hug Macha. “You take care of the little lizard wannabe, he owes me money!”

“Aye. You have an eye on Charles. He’s in a place that many people with fewer scruples desire.”

On his way to the Ballerina, Em couldn’t stop thinking about what was looming to those people. Even with all the Ujan fighters united, which they weren’t, they had no chance of repelling the incoming full force from Tampra. The island city barely had land defences and the ships that had protected it for years were now the ones that were going to invade it. With his experience, Em only saw two alternatives: surrender or massacre.

“Since you haven’t shot Peeta at first sight, I take it you haven’t seen what they’ve done to your ship?” Macha said.

Em frowned, remembering the half-broken bell and accumulated dust over boxes of equipment in Charle’s warehouse. “What else have they taken from her?”

“Most of the bronze finishes are gone. All the kitchen’s utilities are replaced by junk of worse quality and Lim’s cabin is a storage room. All of hers is in Charles’s palace.”

“And the steam engine?” asked the captain, squeezing the bone of his nose.

“Half disassembled and missing. Apo says he’d bring you a new one in a week. No wonder Charles was so apologetic.”

“We don’t have time for that.” Em said, nuzzling a sailor aside. “We’re leaving now or Kang will send someone to stop us.”

From a distance, the state of the Ballerina was already heartbreaking. The remaining metal was left to rust, and the wood was brittle and rotting. Upon boarding, the closer inspection was even worse. Dirt and humidities chewing the wooden planks showed at each corner and as Macha said, all the little details that made his ship a home had been ripped away, leaving a shell that rather looked like a cheap angler’s nutcracker. Em clenched his teeth and growled like a rabid dog. “Ropes, son. Let’s -”

A plank door where the metallic bridge hatch was supposed to be opened with a scratch. “Unauthorised boarding,” said a tall, broad man with a humming voice. The sailor plodded straight to them while striking his palm with a club. Following him, a snotty young man whose pig-like features were somewhat familiar to Em strayed to the side. Both stood defiantly, keeping just enough distance to avoid a surprise punch.

Dodging sacks and boxes of merchandise, a small group of Ujan fighters approached, most with names Em knew well. None carried firepower and only Peeta, who led the party, wielded a lethal weapon. Kang’s skipper pointed with the rope-cutting axe and shouted. “Get off my ship immediately!”

“Step closer and I’ll shoot your leg!” Em said, freezing the group of men before the first one of them reached the boarding ramp.

“We know you’re not going to use that,” said the humming sailor .

With his gaze fixed on the closest treat, the captain parted his legs little by little, wiggling his fingers in sharp movements so that the others could notice. Macha gripped his harness, letting the weight of her arms squeeze the leather straps. The boy had already learned well. A shootout in Ujan was an option they couldn’t afford, but that didn’t include to show willingness to cross that line if necessary. “You must be the new gang’s jester. Ask your colleagues, the ones who know me well and know how much I like my ship if I dare or not.”

The sailor’s eyes drifted towards his companions and Em took the opportunity to inspect their reactions. Ang-Mo was fidgeting and Kuay, the son of Charles’s assistant, was staring at Sinto, who instead of returning an equally frightened look, had his gaze lost among the boats.

Em took a slow but determined step, spooking everyone on and off board. “So I thought,” he said, pushing the ramp aside. As the platform loudly splashed, he moved to the mooring rope.

Red-faced, Peeta exploded. “What are you doing standing there like a fool? Stop him!” The fool charged, arm raising the club. Everything that Em wanted. Hand on the forearm, step to the side, and escort the sailor to the edge. The splash he made was even louder than the ramp did.

Calmly and with his full attention on the man on the land, Em released the stern line. Macha was locked in a battle embrace with the pig boy. “Almost got him, son. Keep going.”

Spurred on by Peeta’s shouts, Ang-Mo and Kuay leaped to board. Ang-Mo, a former butcher who was in better shape than he pretended to be, did a good job of faking his struggle to reach the edge of the ship. His acting to hold on and the consequent slip, leaving him dangling, were worthy of the best theatre performer. On the other hand, Kuay’s ridiculous little jump, which led him straight into the water, was difficult to believe, which led Peeta to explode in rage, waving his axe over the head as he jumped.

The skipper’s legs sought the deck, but instead, his chest found Em’s foot and, after blowing out his soul with the impact, he disappeared between ship and dock. With the only man truly willing to stop him gone, the rest of the Freedom fighters helped with the remaining moorings. Em skewered the sweep into a bunch of boxes and pushed his ship further away. The cracking of his back and the squeaking of his arms became an omen of how much he was going to miss his engine. As the Ballerina turned to broad reach, her captain crouched to face Ang-Mo. “not the face, Em! I got only two teeth left to chew bread!” he gabbled.

“Your new boss is swimming, he won’t see a thing.” As Ang-Mo’s smile showed indeed an almost empty mouth, he let himself fall overboard. Em farewell him with two fingers on the forehead and checked on the gamecocks one more time. Macha’s legs were around the Pig’s waist while his arms tightened around his neck. In retaliation, the other boy was pulling his hair and poking blindly for an eye. Macha, seeing a finger reach his face, bit and the other wrestler let out a squeal. “Well done! You almost got him!” Em shouted, focused on his ship more than anything else.

The winches to raise the sail squeaked to the rust and Em wished Peeta was on board so he could kick him a lot more. When the Ballerina was en route, He return to put an end to a fight that was now an exchange of punches. Macha was dodging well, remembering all that Em had taught him. Still, the other guy was skilled and had landed a good couple of punches that had left his boy with a broken nose and a gaping eyebrow that was starting to bleed profusely. Em sighed and got ready to put an end to the browl. Before long, Macha’s head would begin to spin and his feet would fail enough for one of those plump fists to strike him well.

To the captain’s surprise and pride, Macha threw a well-aimed fist to the jaw, leaving the piglet punching the air while crumbling. Em stepped in between and grabbed the Ujan kid before falling into the sea. As soon as the kid seemed to recover his dignity and balance he put an arm over his shoulder. “Are you related to Ten’Shu, the innkeeper?”

“She’s my maa’s sis,” he answered, rubbing his face.

“You have her eyes. Can you swim?” Em said with a friendly tone. As the kid nodded, the captain pushed. “Send my regards to your aunt!”

The little breeze hardly moved the boat and a small tide was taking them away from the correct course. Em spined the new Ballerina’s wheel. a rusty circle made of cheap cast iron.

“That bacon face pulled out a lock of my hair,” Macha said, his voice suppressed by a bloody handkerchief pressed over his nose. “What? A pretty long mane is a magnet for ladies!”

“That new nose makes you manlier, don’t you worry, heartbreaker. You won’t end up a loner like me.” Em clasped the steering metal with frustration. As the catamaran was drifting toward another dock, a rowboat full of more familiar faces was closing through bow waters. “We are not getting out of here without help. Go see what that men want. If they made a small attempt to board, damn shoot one in the leg!”

Macha shouted from outside. “You are not a loner, old man. Lim is waiting for us somewhere and we will find her. I swear on my manly nose.”

Em was exhausted and had no desire for another fight. As a rope flew up for Macha to tie in front, he breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, he rested his arms on the wheel and his head followed. As the pain in his knee gave him a break, memories of Lim filled his mind. The day after she left, Em and Macha followed. And that was almost a year back. A year of unsuccessful searches. Months navigating the Ring of commerce without ceasing. At first, Em was sure that Lim was in Tampraparni, but neither the Kishnet team nor any of the other moles hidden in each one of the Parni cities heard the slightest rumor.

Now, with Ujan free and his ship finally sailing, it was time to cross the Big Blue and reach the Red Island. Em’s prosthesis needed the skillful hand of the watchmaker and Macha was ready to learn all about that part of his route. Also, The Blue Kingdom needed the profits of his old trade. Tampraparni’s shadow was more threatening with each passing day and there was no more budget to release slaves or build infrastructure on new islands. Now was the time to build battleships and arm soldiers.

Also, Lim was good at hiding. If he couldn’t find her, no one else would. And between anguish and frustration, that was a bit of a relief. She’d had to wait a bit longer. He failed, but even if he continued to do so, he’d never give up trying. And to that, he secretly swore on his old broken nose.