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Chapter 1

You know, once upon a time lots of Anthros had great night vision. Not really sure if Lepids fell into that category, but I sure as Hells know we don't have it anymore. I stared into the inky blackness of the starless night sky, hidden as they were behind ominous clouds that had been a bruised color during the day. Now, they were nothing but pitch darkness around pitch darkness.

The rough waves of the Kastigan Sea lifted the Sea Fang up at her bow before tilting the whole ship like a see-saw. The rippling, bucking waters were almost invisible. We were cloaked in the same dark, not a single bow lantern lit. Our prey wasn't quite so discrete: a single lantern lit up their bow in soft orange-yellow glow. It wasn't bright enough to reveal our position some forty feet away and behind, but we wouldn't remain unnoticed much longer. The Sea Fang was an impressively large vessel, a converted double-mast sailing ship that had been armed with four ballistae, two aside, and on top of the foredeck stood--of all things--a damn trebuchet. Currently, two of the crew stood at its sides, ready to lob a stone the size of a Vulpin at the mainmast. The poor fucks on the Twilight Promise were not going to survive the night, nor would their ship--their cargo would be snatched up and the rest of it would burn and sink to the cold void below. Assuming we won, of course.

I swallowed down bile. Why had I brought us here again?

_ You know why_, I reminded myself. It's the only way.

Resolvereaffirmed, I clenched my Meridian steel paw into a fist and hunkered down lower, waiting for the time to strike.

* * *

Reaching this point had been ugly, to be sure. It was over a year ago that Nola and I stumbled out of the desert on a sweltering November day, clinging to each other as our mother practically dragged us into a small seaside town called Erebus. We'd passed out of the desert and into a thin band of jungle before stumbling out onto the outskirts of the town. It was probably a grand total of a thousand residents, spread out over an impressive amount of space--cramped buildings meant trapped heat, which nobody wanted in a desert--and to any normal Anthropus, probably looked very quaint (or, if one were less generous, backwater). To Nola and me though, it was the biggest damn thing we'd ever seen. There were a lot of Vithia there, mostly Vipers, their sinuous forms and lithe grace hidden behind billowing sheer clothing of dark tones. The women wore veils that covered all but their shining, alert eyes, and both men and women watched our procession through the streets with interest. One or two nodded in familiar greeting to our mother, who nodded curtly back. It was always a stab in the gut to be reminded Geist had been through this way to the Pit before, without ever looking in on her cubs.

Then we saw past the buildings, past the Anthros, and at the ocean, and_that_ became the biggest damn thing we'd ever seen. And I knew, to my dying day, it would remain the biggest. It was water. Incomprehensible amounts of water. My brain hurt just thinking about it. Light refracted off its emerald surface like a dark green blanket onto which someone had spilled a thousand little diamonds. Little lines rolled across its surface. I had no idea at the time those itty bitty waves were actually four, five feet tall, and sailing them would be like riding the worlds wettest see-saw. I clutched Nola's paw and swallowed audibly, unable to breathe at the sight of it.

I glanced at my sister. She didn't look awed so much as terrified. I guess I couldn't blame her.

Geist hurried us through the streets and to a small sailboat tied off at the dock (called a "gig," as I found out much later). It was a tight squeeze fitting five into a small boat clearly meant for no more than six--especially since one of us counted for damn near three on sheer bulk alone--but we didn't have far to go: less than half a mile out from shore, drifting lazily on the rippling tides of the Cheronigon Ocean, rested our mother's raiding ship, the Sea Fang.

Half an hour's rowing--all done by Thrasher, and with nary a spot of fatigue in his bullish face--saw us to the ship's side. Ropes fell to the gig, which were lashed to pulleys at the front and back of the gig. The pulleys hauled us up the side of the ship in arrhythmic, jerking spurts of upward movement. Nola held her swollen belly and made a face. I braced myself against the side and prayed for it to end as the water slowly shrank away from us. Eventually, we reached the top, and another set of ropes pulled the boat onto the deck. Crew members were tying it down onto its resting place before we'd even finished scrambling out of it. Geist's crew glared daggers at us the second we set foot on deck.

Thrasher immediately pulled his whip off his belt and cracked it in the air. "What're ya waiting for? A fucking invitation? Get us out to sea, you dogs!" The crew peeled their eyes from us to the bosun before rushing off to do their work. The other shipmate with us, an aging Macaque Simian named Itsuo, glanced back at us with those eerily discerning eyes before following Geist into her quarters, probably to discuss our fate. She seemed to run as many decisions by the first mate as she did make them on her own.

Nola and I just stood there while the other Anthropa bustled around the ship doing tasks that were completely mystifying. Coiling rope, uncoiling rope, pulling other ropes--lots of stuff with ropes. Ropes everywhere. Seemed like half the damn ship was made of rope. I had no clue what it all meant. After a few minutes, a ragged-looking Ursid lumbered up to us, his brown fur patchy and unhealthy-looking, shoved mops and buckets in our hands. "Nobody rides free on the Sea Fang," he barked. "Get to swabbing."

I've learned to take my stupidity in stride, for the most part. There are so many things other people take for granted knowing how to do, having grown up in the outside world. But frankly, even having never seen a mop before in my life--save for a few minutes spent in a janitor's closet back in the Spike (in my defense, I was pretty busy)--I could probably have figured out how it fucking worked. Wet mop head go on floor, swish-swish. Duh. Few things in my life have made me feel dumber than asking, "Uh, how do I swab?"

The Ursid looked like he was going to shit a brick. I think I broke him. "How--? What--? You been living in a fucking palace or some shit? Who the fuck doesn't know how to use a mop?"

The heat rose in my cheeks. Nola had to save me, as usual. "No floors in the Pit, dipshit," she growled. "Just a rock quarry spewing toxic fumes into the air all day and night. Wanna switch jobs?"

The Ursid sneered at her. "Figure it out. I don't got time to babysit." He stormed off to help a muscular Equus woman carry barrels down below-decks. Nola shrugged at me and started mopping, though she gave me a look that could generously be called "amused but irritated." She figured it out easy enough, so I just followed her lead. Let me tell you, mopping sounds easy when you only have to do it for a few minutes. When you have to mop an entire ship's deck multiple times over the span of hours, it's less fun. The reek of saltwater permeated my nostrils and made my eyes water. Did you know you swab a ship's deck with seawater? I didn't. Preserves the wood and dampens it so it doesn't catch when firing the cannons--not that the Sea Fang had any cannons (but it did have lanterns, which were just as dangerous). So there's a thing I learned. Learning is so fun.

Nola and I had just finished swabbing the main deck for the second time, when Fearless Leader came sauntering out of her cabin with Itsuo in tow. I couldn't be sure, but... was she bow-legged? Fucking super. Mom was over there getting her rocks off while her kids got put on mop duty. Must be nice being the captain.

She jerked her thumb toward her cabin. "Alright, kids. Get in here, we need to talk."

We leaned our mops against the rail and stepped into her quarters. The walls were draped with silks of crimson, black, and navy, with a portrait of some dour-looking Doberman Canid in a top hat and tuxedo on one wall. Her bed was large and clearly not straw-stuffed, with satin sheets the color of blood. A small but ornate writing desk sat against one wall, nailed to the floor to keep it from sliding around during rough waters. A round table with a huge map imprinted on it stood at the opposite end of the room. A low, squat cabinet was nailed to the floor near the bed, its double doors latched closed. Occasionally, the muffled sound of clinking bottles drifted out of it.

Yep, definitely nice being the captain.

Geist stepped in behind us and shut the door, holding a single lantern that she hung from a hook in the center of the ceiling. Despite it being midday, the drawn curtains made the lantern more a source of light than the sun. She sat down on the end her bed, leaning her elbows against her knees, and regarded us in silence for a few moments. I fidgeted; Nola crossed her arms and glared.

Finally, Geist cleared her throat. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

"You don't say," Nola growled.

Geist scowled. "Look. I ain't gonna pretend to be Mom of the Year, okay? I pawned you off on Tofa and sent you to the Pit, yes. And had I known Reggie wasn't gonna hold up his end of the deal, I'd have put that bullet in his eye socket and pulled you out of there years ago. I thought you were being well tended to in there, that it maybe wasn't an easy life but at least you were safe. Hidden. I swear I didn't know he'd throw you in the Pit with the rest of the low-lifes. He was supposed to keep you in the Spike, safe and out of sight. Fucking greedy shit. Probably thought he could squeeze some work out of you while I wasn't looking."

Nola opened her mouth and I knew she was gonna lay into her, but Geist held up her pawsplacatingly. "Yeah, I know, I know. That's the problem, I wasn't looking. Truth is, I was never gonna be a good mom. I dunno how to deal with kids, shit. Thought I was doing you a favor. I mean I was, believe it or not, just... not as good a favor as I thought. I wasn't_just_ trying to pawn you two off on somebody else, I swear."

"But that was one of the things you were doing," I said quietly. I won't lie, it hurt. It hurt bad. But I didn't cry. I wasn't going to give this woman the satisfaction.

She flinched a little, then shrugged it off. "Yeah. Like I said, not great mother material. I'm a fucking pirate, for shit's sake. The Hells kind of life is that for a kid? But that wasn't the only reason. Wasn't even the main reason."

We waited in a long, awkward silence for her to continue. Finally I snapped, "Well? What was it?"

Geist rubbed her eyes and sighed, and when she looked back up at us, she hid it well, but I could see she was scared. "Your dad."

Nola and I exchanged a confused glance. "Our...?"

She nodded. "I stowed you away in the Pit so he wouldn't find you."

I blinked, too stunned to be angry. "But... that means he's trying to find us. That he... he wants us?" The anger bubbled up after having said it aloud. "He actually wants us, and you didn't. And you hid us from him?"

Geist's face went steely. "Hells yes, I did. Trust me, boy. You do _not_want him to find you."

"Why?" Nola cried.

Geist shook her head. "It's... complicated. And frankly, I don't feel like going into all of it. But suffice to say he is hands down the most dangerous motherfucker I've had the displeasure of knowing. If he finds you, it... it'll be bad." She took a deep breath. "To that end, you're stuck on my ship for the foreseeable future."

"So what?" I growled. "We're your prisoners now?"

Nola snorted. "Lateral transition. That's what you called it, right?"

Geist's ears switched irritably. "Look, if he finds you, it won't just be bad for you. Whatever he wants you for, it could be bad for a lot_of people. He's scary. Scary like no other creature I've ever met. You gotta believe me, the _Fang is the safest place on Gaia for you right now. Constantly on the move, out in the middle of the ocean--or we will be shortly. And sea life ain't so bad! Food kinda sucks, but lots of exercise, plenty of sea air, freedom of the open waves... it'll be great. You'll see."

I gave a skeptical glance to my sister, who seemed to share my reticence. We turned back to her and mulled over our options. "You're not giving us a choice, are you." I did not frame it as a question.

Geist crossed her arms. "I could dump your asses on shore and let you rot in Erebus. Who knows? Maybe you could go back to the Pit and find your friends? That is, if you can find another three weeks' worth of supplies and a guide to get you there." Gods, if only that were true. I managed not to start bawling at the thought of Rika, but only just. I was really having a hard time keeping my shit together through this conversation. It didn't bode well for the rest of our journey.

Geist sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look. I'm not trying to give you a 'lateral transition,' here. Okay? I'm trying to save you. It doesn't gotta be a prison. It could be... be a... you_know..." She waved her hand in a circular motion as if searching for the word. Of course, she already _had it, she just didn't want to say it.

"A home?" Nola offered, clearly skeptical.

Geist shrugged helplessly. She clearly wasn't one for uplifting speeches. Seemed like a pretty big character deficit for a ship's captain, but maybe shit ran different with pirates. Who knows?

I took Nola's paw and squeezed it. "Can't be worse than the Pit, I guess. Worth a try."

She scowled at me but said nothing.

I turned back to Geist. "One condition. In two years' time, if we're still on this boat, you drop us off at the Isle of Dreams, or as close as you can get us to it."

Geist snorted indignantly. "You're not really in a bargaining position, boy."

"Aren't we?" I asked. "You clearly have some sense of responsibility for us, since you sailed gods know how far and walked a month through the desert to rescue us. You're not gonna throw us out in the sand now, no matter how macho your talk. You care at least a little. And you have no right to keep us as prisoners, which you don't seem to want us to be anyway." I held up two fingers. "Two years. At that point, we'll be legal adults anyway. What we do with our lives will no longer be your concern."

Geist looked stricken for a moment when I said that, but she recovered quickly and shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Fine. Two years, then you can do what you like."

I glanced at Nola, who shifted uncomfortably. Her feet were probably killing her. "Second thing," I said. "Nola's three months along. She's going to need somewhere more comfortable than a cot, or straw pile, or wherever you people sleep on a boat."

"Ship," Geist corrected absently. She gazed at her daughter's stomach with a frown. "Yeah, I been thinking about that. Who's the father, anyway? That Lupus punk?"

Nola swallowed hard. "I-I don't know. There were... others in the experiment." Technically, that was true. While it was entirely probable that I was the father, it wasn't impossible that it had been Patrice. Still, we were pretty sure the kittens were mine. Nola and I had probably swapped more fluids in any given week at the Spike than she and Patrice had during the entire experiment. The thought made my cheeks heat up again.

Geist seemed to pick up on something, because she narrowed her eyes at us and twitched her nose. "Uh huh. We're gonna have a longer discussion about this. At any rate, you're gonna sleep in the hammocks below-decks with the rest of the crew for now. Once it gets closer to the due date, you can use my quarters until we figure something else out. Don't get cozy, though."

"Where will you sleep?" I asked. I couldn't believe this was the same woman we'd met in our last moments at the Spike.

Geist shrugged. "I'll kick Itsuo out of his quarters. He won't have a problem shacking up with the rest of the crew."

I didn't like the idea of the Simian getting a grudge against us already because we caused him to lose his cushy digs, but Nola needed a proper bed. My sister frowned. "Why don't we take his quarters and you keep yours?" Nola asked. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

I froze.

Geist's face went neutral. "We?"

Nola swallowed again. Dammit, sis, why did you have to push it?

"Uh. I just mean... I don't want Leon to have to sleep in a hammock while I get a real bed. Doesn't seem fair." She said it with convincing nonchalance, but Geist didn't look convinced.

"I-it's fine, sis," I said, my saliva suddenly thick in my mouth. "I'll deal."

Geist stared at us for a long time. "Are you two fucking?" she finally asked.

My eyes must have looked like dinner plates. "Wh--no!" I cried. "Dude!"

Nola didn't respond. She just glared at the captain with her arms crossed. Geist's eye twitched a little, and she stared at us with a look of dawning horror. I suddenly became very, very aware of the flintlock pistol at her belt.

"Geist," I said slowly, my heart pounding in my ears, "don't do anything stupid..."

Let me tell you about Sight.

It's about the most obnoxious Gift I've ever heard of. It might seem really cool at first, to see into the past or future, but the Sight doesn't open just at my beck and call. It will also open at the most random, inopportune times. Once, near the end of our stay at the Spike, it opened while I was railing Rika from behind and I Saw about four or five hundred different outcomes to our sexual congress. I was catatonic for thirty-five minutes afterward. I promise you, it was not as fun as it may sound. Rika thought she'd just oversexed me. If only.

And every time it happens, every time the Sight opens up and shows me the future, I can feel myself losing something, but I can't put my finger on what. I mean, I guess that makes sense, it's gone now. But it's so damn frustrating not knowing what's gone. And when it just kind of opens up on me and shoves me down a couple hundred (or thousand, if I'm particularly unlucky) potential paths, it reminds me that it acts more like a disease than a power. Power can be controlled--a disease cannot.

As soon as the words left my mouth, Geist drew her pistol and shot Nola in the stomach. Blood erupted from her ruptured belly and spilled all over the deck. The bullet thrown out of a flintlock at short range does some seriously gruesome things to an Anthro. Nola's spine exploded out of her back in a cone of gore and shrapnel from an exit wound the size of my fist. "I can't let him have them," Geist whispered as she watched her daughter collapse to the floor, rapidly dying from internal hemorrhaging and a shattered spine.

As soon as Nola collapsed, gasping and spitting blood, I was back at the starting position, a sharp pain at the base of my skull. I knew it was about to happen again, and I dove in front of Nola to take the bullet. The stories always make it sound so dramatic, but it wasn't for me because I mistimed my mother's shot and I dove right past my sister before Mom shot her in the guts and killed her.

Pain.

Back at square one. I dove again, and again, and finally on the fourth repeat, I timed it right and took the bullet right in the neck, landing on the floor in a heap as my lifeblood spilled out of the enormous hole in my throat.

PAIN.

Okay, the Gift wasn't going to let me sacrifice myself. Maybe I could kick her out of the way? As Geist drew her flintlock, I hopped up and mule-kicked Nola out of the way. She went tumbling over and cracked her head on the side of the desk. The world went skewed.

_ PAIN._

Over and over and over. The same horrid three seconds ran out again and again. I kept splitting and splitting and trying and trying and every fucking time it went wrong. Somehow, either I died or Nola died. I wondered absently, as I rushed my mother for the seventy-fifth time to get shot in the eye socket again, if this was how my life ended, in an eternal three-second loop, either dying or watching the mother of my kittens die, forever and ever.

_ PAAIINN_--

Oh fuck OW OKAY I GOT IT CRIPES.

Did I mention that I am spectacularly dense?

It took another seventeen splits, but I figured it out. Must have looked really cool, me just stepping in front of Nola and deflecting the bullet with my M-steel arm. No need for them to know I had to try six hundred and forty-seven times to figure that out. Yes, I know that's a lot of attempts before I figured out the obvious! Look, I panicked, okay? Leave me alone.

As the bullet zinged off the steel and lodged in the wall above the desk, we all stood in shocked silence, Geist holding the flintlock in her shaking hand, eyes wide with horror; Nola frozen in place, paws protectively covering her belly as if that would have stopped anything; and me, standing in front of her, metal arm outstretched, looking like... well, probably looking like a guy who'd watched his sister die about six hundred times in three seconds.

"I can't--"

"--let him have them," I panted, completing my mother's whispered phrase. I'd heard it six hundred-plus times, I had it down pat. Gods, the Sight really takes a lot out of you.

Geist came to her senses, and stared at the smoking pistol in her hand, then at her children, then threw the weapon away from her like a feral viper that had bitten her. A split second later, the door burst open and Itsuo stood, cutlass in his hand, looking alert and cautious but otherwise unruffled. When he saw no one was dead or injured, he looked curiously to the captain.

She kept staring at us for several seconds before finally turning to the Simian and clearing her throat. "'s fine. Misfire with the flintlock. Probably just needs to be cleaned. We're alright."

Itsuo frowned at her, studied her face for a long moment, then shrugged and left, sheathing his cutlass before closing the door.

"Why?" Nola whispered. "Why would you do that?"

"You have no idea," Geist said in a shaky voice. She looked genuinely terrified. "No idea what you've done. What you've unleashed with your... union." She stood up and walked out of the cabin, leaving Nola and me staring uncomprehendingly at the door.

The moment she left, I turned to Nola. "We can not stay on this boat."

Nola turned to me, on the verge of tears. "Where else can we go, Leon?"

I gathered her up in my arms and held her. "I don't know. Anywhere but here. She tried to fucking kill you, Nollie. We can't stay here, you're not safe."

She started crying then, deep, wracking sobs into my shoulder. The white cotton shirt started darkening from her tears and the snot from her nose. As beautiful as my sister was, she was unequivocally an ugly crier. I was still too far in shock to cry. I just held her and stroked her back.

* * *

We hid in the captain's quarters, terrified to come out, for a good fifteen minutes. When we'd finally resolved to get off this fucking boat and take our chances in the desert, the Sea Fang lurched forward, and we realized with mounting dread that we were currently underway. We were trapped.

Moments later, Geist came back in. "I'm... sorry," she said through gritted teeth. Guess it wasn't something she was used to saying. "I reacted... poorly. If you knew what I know about your father, you might have had the same reaction." She glanced at my furious expression and sighed. "Or maybe not. I... I won't do that again. I promise." She turned to Nola. "But you're not leaving the ship, either, especially now that I know the babies are your brother's. You have no idea the danger you're in now."

"So fucking tell us!" I snapped.

She shook her head. "Not now. It's a long conversation and we need to get underway. Here's the deal. You work, both of you." She pointed at Nola. "When you can't anymore, you're confined to quarters. These scumbags can smell weakness, so best not to give them the opportunity."

Nola and I glanced at each other. The Hells did that mean?

"Seeing as how I tried to kill you, I suppose I owe you. You can have Itsuo's cabin, behind mine. It's smaller, but he has a decent bed, no hammock. Might as well sleep together. I assume you're gonna keep at it regardless of what I say, so whatever." She made as casual a shrug as she could, but she was clearly unsettled. "Just know, the crew's gonna talk. You don't do something about it, they'll make your lives unbearable. I won't stop them, either. You're on your own with this one. You want their respect, you'll have to beat it out of them. I won't help."

She considered us for a few more seconds, then jerked her head to the door. "You're swabbing for now, until we can get you trained on other jobs. Try not to fuck the mop handles."

It felt like my face was on fire. My metal paw clenched so tight the plates creaked. Geist just stared at me with that same empty, haunted expression. Nola finally took me gently by the waist and led me to the door.

I was so furious I wanted to tear someone apart with my bare paws. I needed to vent some frustration, and Geist's words rang in my ears:beat it out of them. Fine. Fucking... fine. If that's how these psychopaths worked, that's how I'd play. I stormed out onto the deck, and I could feel a dozen or more eyes on me. "Hey, assholes!" I shouted.

Dead. Silence.

Nobody on the deck moved. I felt terror start strangling my anger, but Ibeat the emotion mercilessly with a stick until only the anger remained. "You don't want us on your ship? Great. We don't want to fucking be here. But we are. So you can either suck it up and deal with it, or air your grievances right now." I raised my M-steel arm and flexed a fist. "Who's first?"

Of fucking course it was Thrasher.

The bosun strode forward, whip in hand, and his bull nose twisted in a sneer at me. "Cap'n says treat you like the rest of the crew," he snarled. "When a crewman gets uppity like you, do you know what happens to 'im, little bunny?" He tightened his grip on the whip, and I heard the leather creak and groan under the pressure of his massive fist. "They get ten lashes. Most don't last that long, though. They pass out after five or six. I bet you wouldn't last three." I didn't know what "lashing" was, but I assumed it had something to do with that whip, which meant I didn't want to find out.

"You want to lash me?" I smirked. "You gotta put hands on me first."

The whole crew jeered and hollered as Thrasher brought up his whip.

I already explained most of how this works. I won't belabor the point, but I will addthat activating the Sight hurts more than when it just happens by instinct, and it's actually damn hard to fight and use the Sight at the same time. Easier to See the fight to the end and try to follow the steps. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. You see, tiny things can change the course of events. Stepping two inches to the right instead of one inch might mean I step on a nail and throw off my hook. If I go for a Kibari shoulder toss instead of an arm-bar as was Seen, it will drastically alter the flow of the combat. You have to pay attention to every single detail and force your brain to memorize every step in the dance, or you could be fucked.

The alternative is to just use Sight as you fight, and that was vomit-inducingly painful, not to mention distracting as fuck. I opted for the first option.

As tough as it was to memorize the battle plan, I'd done it half a dozen or so times at this point, so I was getting better at it. Which was good, because Thrasher had about two feet, two hundred pounds, and--most importantly--over a foot of reach on me. Getting inside his reach was the hardest part (two hundred nineteen attempts--that fucking whip was a bitch to evade). Next was dealing with his left hook (twenty-five attempts). Twisting under the hook and bringing my metal fist down on his kneecap ended up being the best next step (fifty-two attempts). Finally, as he stumbled forward, arms outstretched to bear-hug me, I slid under his legs (one hundred five attempts--you'd think a wet ship deck would be more slippery), came up in a tumble (sixteen attempts), and round-house kicked him in the spine hard enough to pop one of his vertebrae and send him toppling to the ground (an impressively meager twelve attempts).

When he collapsed, the crew's jeers fell silent. There was no sound but the creak and groan of the ship as she crested over the waves. Everyone stared at me, including Nola, who hadn't said a word since we left our mother's quarters.

The aging Simian lumbered down from his perch on a stack of crates and moved over to Thrasher, placing two fingers against the Minoan's thick neck. His face barely registered any emotion, but I could swear I saw the moment he knew his crewman was fucked. I felt my guts flip in my stomach. He couldn't be dead! I hadn't hit his spine _that_hard. I'd popped the vertebra, not shattered it.

Right?

I stared at the Minoan's unmoving form again and realized his spine had become an inverted 'V'. Blood was already pooling out of his open mouth, and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head. He wasn't quite dead yet, but he was dying. There was no saving him. Internal hemorrhaging and a spine that was in multiple pieces meant there was no Mender on Gaia that could stop what was about to happen, and it wouldn't happen fast. He would suffer for at least a few minutes before the internal bleeding finally killed him. I could only hope he was unconscious for it so he wouldn't suffer.

Itsuo pulled the whip from Thrasher's limp fingers, hobbled over to me, and handed me the weapon. He spoke for the first time in the twenty-two days since I'd met him at the Spike. His voice was throaty and dry, like crumpled parchment.

"You are the bosun now."

He regarded me with a look somewhere between admiration and anger before clambering effortlessly up into the rigging to get to work. I stared down at the whip, then up to Nollie, who looked as horrified as I felt. I looked around at the other crew, all of whom were very, very busy and very, very not looking at me.

Fuck.

What did a bosun even do?