Beasts of No Nation (or, How to Catch a Flying Fox) (CasualVelociraptor x Shiva the Cat)

[CasualVelociraptor]

Monday, October 10th, 1892

If she was in her right mind, Koqee the Shy would never have come to Elftown/Hollow Bend, the worst part of Radiant City along the polluted river of the same name apart from South Bend, which at least had Detective Alice Guthrie as a native daughter to defend it. That, and good paying jobs on whaling trawlers.

(She knew it was called Bardor officially, meaning “Homeland” in High Elvish, as it had been renamed such by a grateful town after the building of the school by and for elves. However, she had heard the conflicting monikers so many times it was hard to call it by its actual appellation.)

It was an especially bad idea to do so the day after the firebombing of Oroparmi Radiasive, the largest private elvish high school in Caledoria, that killed ten students and two teachers. This had then sparked a wave of pro- and anti-elvish violence and looting known as Bleeding Sunday. At least the arrival on the scene of Alice had calmed things down as she started to investigate who bombed the school and why, but despite Koqee hoping to catch a glimpse of the World's Greatest Detective, this wasn’t any kind of tourist destination.

Koqee had always been told by her overbearing mother to never stand out from the crowd if she wanted to find her place in this messy, overcrowded, chaotic city that she proudly called home. To hide her underbite, never roar, never be seen as greedy. To be every inch the delicate, innocent, perfect green-skinned human that everyone wanted her to be until someone higher up in society decided to “rescue” her from poverty with his cock.

But here she was, in the worst neighborhood in town, decidedly not keeping her head low, and yet not being noticed anyway in the mayhem while moving towards Terminal 1 Pub, one of the most famous in the city. And why?

Because a crow had a heart attack.

She’d never heard of such a thing before, but there she was this morning, waiting tables at Mammoth Grill, a diner in Inventors Green, when a messenger crow died in midair and landed on the table she was serving at the time, whose patrons then ran away screaming.

Needless to say, she was fired on the spot.

Koqee didn’t even bother going home to her sparsely furnished tenement nearby, knowing that without any money from this week she couldn’t even afford to move out, let alone pull enough together for rent this month. Still, she managed to retrieve the letter tied to its foot, which read:

“Replacement pilot wanted. One with actual fucking decent night vision. And no drinking problems. Use password: Vulpini with the guy at Terminal 1 for more details.”

Koqee knew that, as a goblin, she had exceptional night vision. Not only that, but she had such little money on hand week to week because she was spending all her free money on flight lessons after work at the nearby Owl School in order to train for her professional airplane pilot’s license. Actual, full time piloting work rarely presented itself to nonhumans, so if there was an opportunity here to gain work experience in something she loved doing, she had to take it, right?

So, Koqee the Shy (who was comforted by the fact that whoever was assigning this job would meet her at a pub, because she desperately needed a trip there now) used most of the remaining Imperial notes in her pocket to take the UnderTram here, then the rest to buy a steam-treated cocktail and a jar of pickled onions for multiple reasons.

1.) It was all she could afford, especially after motherfucking sales tax. After this, she was flat broke.

2.) To repel any leering guys trying to buy her a spiked drink.

3.) Because what the heck, pickled onions were tasty, filling, and a fantastic contribution to the culinary world by Caledoria! The eye watering was part of the adventure, and goblins were able to resist it more easily than other sentients.

After eating a few of those and deciding to finish the rest later because she didn't have as much of an appetite as she thought, she carefully stepped up to the door labeled “PRIVATE” in the back and repeat the password back to a stern looking Xen 3 automaton with an equally joyless chaingun attached, who then stated firmly, “Message receipt acknowledged. Contacting originator. Await further instructions.”

After that, all Koqee could do was take her seat at the bar again and await whatever shit destiny (not that she believed in it, b it she didn’t have a better word for it) had decided to drop on her. For she was a shy goblin that no one had noticed or cared about apart from her now maggotfooded mother, and so she had precisely nothing to lose.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

If it had been up to Yasha, they all would have stayed the fuck away from Radiant City at least until spring. At the best of times the city always stank of oil fires and exhaust fumes, but the stench got ten times worse with the oncoming of winter, when the massive buildings needed to be artificially heated by whatever mechanical means necessary. Yasha could remember the earliest years of her illustrious career when she would fall asleep under a mountain of refuse in an attempt to stay warm, and still the air smelled worse no matter how much trash was piled on top of her.

Thankfully since those days she'd managed to see some fairer places in the world, where the water was still clean and the air smelled of salt and palm trees. Alas, it was in one such place her most recent Night Pilot, a feline gentleman with mechanically augmented eyes and a taste for Harpy Island Rum, enjoyed a bit too much of the latter and went diving into a riptide, claiming to have seen a beautiful blue-haired woman beckoning to him from what he thought were the shallows. Whatever Zietys had actually seen was a mystery never to be solved, since his furry body was found limp and lifeless on a reef three miles out from shore, which to be fair was a respectable swimming distance for the usually water-averse catfolk.

Regardless of the late Zietys' swimming skills, Captain Yasha and her crew of pirates now found themselves in need of a pilot capable of manning their helm through the darkest watches of the night. The Day Pilot, a handsome elf who called himself Wyn, was utterly useless even at sunset, when the Mid-Light Pilot, a good-natured dwarf lass known as Kiki took over until the last light of the twin suns ultimately failed. Ever since Zietys' death the dwarf had put forth a valiant effort to direct the pirates' airship through the midnight skies, but over the last few months there had been one too many near-accidents for Captain Yasha's comfort. They'd had to ultimately resort to landing the ship overnight to avoid accidentally crashing into a mountain or worse, but that meant a full crew of gunners needed to be on guard until they were airborne again. And a crew of sleep-deprived gunners was likely to be useless when bounty hunters or Imperial forces inevitably caught up with the outlaws.

So Yasha needed a new pilot. And not just any pilot, but a Night Pilot, one whose specialty was navigating by the stars and avoiding the hidden hazards in the dark. Plus whoever she ultimately hired would have to know how to maneuver one of the most complex airships the Empire ever produced, but that was something she could deal with later. Nothing like a little trial by fire to help one learn the ropes, after all.

She had tried searching the Free States first, hoping that perhaps a rival crew might have alienated someone who'd be all too happy to join up under the flag of the white fox that hung from the prow of Yasha's ship. But most Night Pilots knew their worth, and were quite to demand either double-shares of profit or right out salaries, like they were a regular buttoned-up working stiff in a Radiant City factory. And much as Yasha hated to admit it, their finances were getting tight. Zietys' wife still had to be paid out for her husband's death, and if the crew didn't get their own payouts soon, there was talk that there might be an election. Then Yasha would really be fucked.

The captain tried not to think about it. It wasn't like they would kick her out, and no one was really champing at the bit to be the new captain anyway. One job, one really big job, and they'd be rolling in it again. But she needed a new pilot first, and she needed one fast.

With all other options exhausted, Yasha had finally turned her attention back to Radiant City. She'd gotten her start there a lifetime ago, just another scurrying rat in the Theives' Guild, barely surviving but polishing the one skill she really was good at: meeting people. While the captain hadn't stayed on good terms with everyone from the old days (and with all the backstabbing that went around, who ever did?), she still knew a few people with big ears and open eyes. And one of them still owed her a favor.

Mama Romalla had already been an established figure when Yasha had arrived in Radiant City as a girl. A fence, a madam, an entrepreneur, everyone always said she did everything except lift the wallets and pull the triggers herself, but she could certainly refer you to someone who would. While her beauty and dignity had diminished with her growing age (the woman must have been past eighty now), she still knew everyone and everything that passed through Hollow Bend, and she would be more than happy to share it with you...for a price.

After landing the ship in a secluded region beyond the borders of the city, Yasha had sent a preliminary crow to Mama Romalla, just to ensure the old woman wasn't dead yet and that she still charged the same referral fee. After receiving confirmation that the beldam was indeed still among the living, although she was no longer appearing in public due to advanced arthritis (and definitely not the insulted vanity of a woman who had once been shockingly beautiful), she'd sent the followup missive with instructions for any potential applicants:

Replacement pilot wanted. One with actual fucking decent night vision. And no drinking problems. Use password: Vulpini with the guy at Terminal 1 for more details.

Yasha had waited a day for any kind of response, but none came, and patrols were getting dangerously near the ship. After conferring with the other officers of the crew, it was agreed that the captain, quartermaster, and one of the bulkier boilermen would head into the city on foot to make the rendezvous, while the ship would temporarily withdraw until the heat was off. Contact would be maintained through a curious invention of the ship's engineer: a simple gold ring worn on Yasha's left hand, with a flat disc of crystal that would light up and change color according to a rhythmic code she and the engineer had used for years. Through this medium, the ship could message her captain in case of any emergency, though the communication was one-way only.

She estimated it would take three days to either find someone or determine the cause hopeless, and the crew agreed to reconvene farther down the coast no later than Thursday. That matter settled, Captain Yasha slipped into Radiant City under the cover of dark with her two companions close at hand. Lodging had been acquired under fake names and the bill left unpaid when they left early in the morning to descend into the depths of Hollow Bend. Considering all the excitement of the day before, it would probably be some time before the discrepancy was noticed.

In the meantime, Yasha and her comrades found themselves at ease in the back room of Terminal 1, the captain herself daintily sipping at a nice (but not too expensive) bottle of whiskey while Claude the Quartermaster, a lovely androgyne of mysteriously aristocratic manner, stuck to a pot of herbal tea, and the big boilerman Red amused himself by guzzling beer and whirling his swords around haphazardly.

"Oi, knock it of before you break something you big lummox," the captain warned as she swirled her cup. "Last thing we need is to owe this place an even bigger tab."

"Indeed. We can't exactly afford to skip out on this one, can we?" Claude mused. "It's one thing to get blacklisted from a hotel, but from the entire criminal underworld..."

"No one's getting blacklisted!" Yasha snapped, which earned a snort of contemptuous laughter from Red.

"Oh yeah? How come we ain't got one taker yet then, Cap?"

The captain opened her mouth to argue against him, but before she could the door to the room opened, and the mechanical monstrosity that had been so generously offered for their personal use poked its head--if you could call it that--instead.

"Password submitted correctly. Admit responder?" it asked in a monotone voice that grated along the floor of Yasha's mind. Why the fuck couldn't this place just hire a real gods-damned person as a bouncer? True, the thing looked like it would pack a punch if you pissed it off, but then again it probably didn't even get pissed off. Someone would just have to tell it to attack, and then it would fire, like the world's slowest gun. A real person would just punch you in the face when they got upset, like the order of the universe intended.

"No, keep them waiting out there until we're finished," Yasha muttered, draining her cup and slamming it on the table a little too hard. "Yes, fucking admit the responder you rusting pile of hardware." The automaton obeyed, and she could just hear her friend Veda's voice chuckling away at the back of her mind.

You're going to have to get used to them sooner or later, Yasha. Technology does not move backward the engineer had said more than once.

Well, at least the pilot would be living. Or so she hoped. If the only applicant to the position was yet another automaton, the owners of Terminal 1 would have more than a few nicks in the wall to fix up.

 

[CasualVelociraptor]

If the automaton could have come to life and explained to Captain Yasha, or any other biological sentient, why it was the bouncer here as opposed to a humanoid life form, it would perhaps have pulled out its wax cylinder and the needle that engraved instructions and recorded visitors to the door onto it, then pointed out to the puny brained organic how this was a more reliable system of knowing- and, more importantly, controlling- who had or could have access to this critical tunnel of the literal criminal underworld beneath Radiant City. But the Xen didn't do any such thing. Instead, it dutifully stomped its clockwork and steam pipe body across the wet, mossy cobblestones of the sewer system, ignoring the river of waste that emptied into the actual river despite the city government's best, easily bribed efforts, and knocked on the light, hollow, yet nearly impenetrable dampfsteel door to let the goblin know her answer.

"Responder accepted. Please follow."

Koqee had been nervous before, but now every muscle and sinew in her body tightened as she went on high alert. It wasn't unusual for the shy girl to be on her guard from all sorts of opprobrium or other mischief; however, in this case, she was clearly crossing a boundary to a darker part of this town, heck, this world, and so there was much more at stake, and that could go wrong.

If the letter had been intended for someone else, and it looked like she intercepted it, then that meant she'd turn up in a riverbed with all the other cadavers disposed of in the drainage.

If the ringleader was a speciesist who didn't like the idea of working with a goblin? Corpse.

If she couldn't test fly the plane correctly because it was a different model? Corpse.

All this made Koqee want to run. However, like the Xen, her legs moved under their own instructions. After all, what did she have to run back to? Another grueling, dead-end waitressing job? How, she wondered, would sleepwalking through life like she had been because she was scared be any different than being dead? At least with this, she could say to herself in the afterlife (if something like that existed) that she at least tried to better her situation.

As she followed the Xen, her extremely sensitive eyes caught headhunters moving through the shadows in an attempt to poach for one organization or another, as if she'd landed in the world's most twisted career fair. A Gudarian madame commented approvingly on her looks and the likelihood of her making hundreds of notes per hour, making the petite woman's green cheeks tinge red with embarrassment because that was more money than she’d held in a month sometimes. As a result, she also walked a little straighter.

An orc in a seal leather vest towered over her and asked if she'd mind bartending at the UnderBite, which he stated was one of the largest speakeasies in the underground, owned by the UB AutoCycle Club. If she did well, he winked, maybe she could become his old lady (which she didn't know, but guessed the meaning of very quickly.) And lastly, a Thieves Guild promoter claimed that, in addition to true power, immortality to history, and fabulous wealth, all thieves could look forward to receiving that rarest of prizes- health insurance.

With each consecutive offer, Koqee thought about abandoning the mission ascribed by dead-crow-parchment and seek her fortune on the edges of society in what seemed to be a much, much safer manner than flying airplanes. And that reminded her: what exactly would she be doing with said aircraft? Not anything sedate at that height and speed, that was for sure. At the same time, however, Koqee felt a little bad for the person who put out this letter, only for it to not go anywhere except to her, so felt a strange obligation to see this through.

Still, it felt very cold and damp in here next to the little archway where she was told to wait while the Xen went to find some other sucker to draw in here.

And yet, despite these clear instructions, Koqee could hear people talking behind a great oak door next to her. Curiosity ultimately got the better of the goblin as she opened the door to find herself...back at a different room at the back of the sprawling pub, suddenly appearing over several people, including a very strong looking woman (gulp!) with fine clothes and an equally fine gun, who clearly must be the captain she needed to speak to. It made her wonder what the point of going into the creepy sewers had been, but she hadn’t realized just how haphazard Radiant’s sub-surface architecture really was.

Her instinct was to freeze, but instead Koqee mustered the courage to ask, “So, um, hi. I’m Koqee. Is this the crew looking for a decent night pilot?” Then she tried to break the ice by joking, “I come bearing night vision and no alcoholism, as far as I’m aware.”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Captain Yasha could take some comfort in the fact that the would-be pilot did not appear to be mechanical by any means. But biological though the applicant appeared to be, it appeared the small, green figure was the absolute lowest form of life on the planet.

"Tano's tits...don't tell me she sent me a fucking goblin," the captain muttered, pouring herself another drink.

Claude, who appeared to have heard the remark quite clearly, raised one graceful eyebrow and examined the pilot clinically. "It would appear so, Captain. Tell me, young lady, what is your name?"

The goblin girl was clearly nervous, but at least she had the fortitude to try and offset the situation with humor. “So, um, hi. I’m Koqee. Is this the crew looking for a decent night pilot? I come bearing night vision and no alcoholism, as far as I’m aware.”

"She probably comes bearing a few diseases too," chuckled Red as he leaned against the door, still casually brandishing one of his swords. "Or maybe she's looking to pick up a few things? Everyone knows gobs ain't got no loyalties, after all. Grubby little mits always trying to snatch at everything, soon as your back is turned. Why Cap, I bet she ain't even the one who gave the password right. Probably slipped in ahead of the real pilot, and that walking hunk of junk outside--"

"Red," Yasha interrupted, rising to her feet. "Shut your gods-damned mouth before I cut that wagging tongue of yours out and shove it up your ass. When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." Red obediently silenced himself, though his hooded gaze was still wary as he observed the captain approaching the pilot. The former was nearly twice the latter's height, and moved with an air of confidence and assurity as she slowly circled the goblin.

"So Mama Romalla sent you, huh? You must be one hell of a pilot if so. Last I heard she wasn't too fond of goblins," the captain mused as she stopped directly in front of Koqee. Leaning back on the table a little, she cocked her head curiously. "Do you have any idea who we are, kid? Who I am?" There was an amusing note of hopefulness in Yasha's voice as she asked the question. Last she was aware there were still plenty of wanted posters on the surface offering thousands of Notes on her head, but with all the political tensions in the empire she was afraid pirates were beginning to lose their status as a major threat to trade.

"This is Captain Yasha, of the airship Toshiro--sometimes called the Flying Fox, if you've heard of that," Claude cut in, ignoring the annoyed look from their captain. "My name is Claude Beaumont, I'm the quartermaster of the ship. I apologize for that gentleman over there's comments--" They gestured in the direction of Red, now fully scowling in the corner. "--But you needn't take him too seriously, he's just an enlisted fellow. We are indeed in need of a Night Pilot, and a responsible one at that." The corner of Claude's mouth quirked in the slightest hint of a smile. "As an elected representative of the crew, I'm glad to hear you are free of at least one chemical dependency. I had also heard that your people are blessed with surprisingly keen night vision, but I had chalked a great deal of that up to rumor. Hadn't you as well, Captain?"

Yasha only grunted in response, and narrowed her eyes a little at Koqee. She'd never had a goblin on the crew before, and while she herself didn't harbor any particular loathing for the race as a whole, she knew there would be more than one member of the crew who would be in line with Red's thinking, Accords or no. "Is the old woman your only reference, or do you have others?" the captain asked, trying to imagine who besides another pirate crew would ever hire such a creature as the little green woman to fly for them. "How old are you? How many years you been flying?"

The pirate had no idea what the lifespan of a goblin was like; she'd only know a couple during her years in the Thieves' Guild, and they had all met their ends prematurely either at the hands of officials or rival gangs. If she had to guess the girl was around eighteen or nineteen, barely old enough to have even taking flying lessons, much less get any real job experience. Koqee's height made have made her appear even young than that, but the swell of her hip and the delicate line of cleavage rising out of her top made Yasha think she was at least old enough to know a thing or two about the world. She's cute the captain realized, her own little smile now tugging at her mouth, though she quickly crushed it beneath an affected look of cool detachment.

Still, it did bring one amusing idea to mind. "Okay, look. The old woman's never sent us a bad crewmember before, and even though you might be a little unconventional, I think you still deserve a chance, Koqee. Our ship is...unique, and I don't expect you to understand the controls right away, but we've got people who can train you for that. The biggest thing I, as your captain, would need from you is a strong nerve, and eyes that really can see in the dark. If you can offer me those, I'd be willing to bring you out to the ship for a test flight."

"Now, I don't think I can test the first part in any way that the owners of this uh, 'fine establishment' if that's what people call it, would appreciate," Yasha continued. "But I think we can easily test your eyes here and now, if you're up for it." Reaching into her pocket, the captain pulled out a crisp Fifty-Note, then gestured for Claude to move to the electrical switch on the wall that controlled the lights. "I'm gonna have our quartermaster over there shut off the lights--and Red I swear upon all the gods of wood and water if you move from that spot you will never breathe above-ground air again," she warned the boilerman before turning back to the goblin. "And you, Miss Koqee, are gonna find this nice crisp bill in the dark for me. Find it before I count to ten, and not only is the money yours, but we'll take you back to test with us right now. And if you don't...you're going to get the fuck out of here and never speak of this conversation to anyone, understand?"

Yasha snapped the bill tightly between her fingers, and split second later the lights went out, plunging the entire room into utter blackness. There was a quick sound of movement, then suddenly the captain's voice rang out again.

"One...two..."

 

[CasualVelociraptor]

A split second of darkness was all the goblin needed to adjust her eyes to the decreased light, as the coverlet behind her retina went to work detecting what little light did remain in the pub. The composition of light receptors on the goblin’s retinas also helped; 90% rods and 10% cones, as opposed to the usual 80-20 ratio of humans and other sentients, which allowed goblins to get more visual information about changes in light level. Surprisingly, this was possible without losing any perception of color, as happened with cats and other animals, and was something scientists were still studying earnestly for its great potential applications.

“One…two…” the captain started to say.

Upon first seeing the lights go down, Koqee, with her equally keen hearing, had noticed a soft swish of paper on the wind. Where it had gone to, however, she had not the slightest clue.

“…three…four…”

Koqee took a couple more seconds to block out the shouts of angry customers demanding to know what was going on here and befuddled management unable to give an explanation for the sudden power outage.

“…five…six…”

A glint of light off the reflective strip inside the bill told her that the note had been folded into a paper airship and then thrown into the rafters. Clever, she smirked to herself as she scrambled up the wall behind her. And perhaps, she also thought, if Yasha was that quick and precise with her hands on this task…this she then suppressed without

“…seven…eight…”

A launch off the wall, and then, like a cat whose eyes would glow in similar fashion, Koqee was somersaulting along the wooden beams at lightning speed.

“…nine…”

Koqee yelled, “Time!” when she landed on the floor next to Yasha and her other prospective crewmates. Having pulled on the chain of a lightbulb with one of her hands while clutching the bill in the other, their table and only their table was awash in light while Koqee presented proof of her victory to Yasha.

Meanwhile, some of those in attendance thought this was a show and clapped for her, to which Koqee, feeling a mite cocky at her skills, bowed and responded, “Thank you, thank you and goodnight!”

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Three, four," the captain said in a tone of mild amusement, the count continuing automatically even as her mind began to whir.

Yasha's first instinct had been to hide the note somewhere on her person: in her boot, or beneath it, or perhaps even tucked into the shadowy crevice of her corset. She'd noted Koqee's long, nimble fingers when the lights were still on, and she couldn't help but wonder...but no. Claude was still in the room, and even if they couldn't see in the dark, the old puritan still always seemed to find out about the captain's peccadilloes and never failed to lecture her about them once they were away from the crew. Not fancying to listen to such a diatribe on a busy day like today, Yasha decided secreting the money somewhere about the room was the best course of action for now.

After all, if Koqee did sign on, there would always be time for a little tête-à-tête later...

In the meantime, there was the trouble of actually hiding the damn thing. Much as she hated to admit it, Yasha was as blind as the rest of her crew in the pitch black of the room, and while she might be sure-footed on the familiar decks of the Toshiro, she hadn't quite committed the layout of the back room to memory just yet. It wouldn't do much good to prove her point if she ended up tripping on the goblin, which meant she was limited to hiding the bill either somewhere within arm's reach, or throwing it and merely hoping for the best.

A vision crossed her mind for a moment: the back veranda of the old house in Akiri, the old gray fox in his ratty kimono smoking a pipe and folding a tear-stained sheet of paper covered in a child's handwriting. Send it this way, little pearl. The paper, now folded into an airplane, caught on the summer breeze and soared into the evening sky. She will get it this way.

Yasha scowled in the dark and set her jaw. But automatically, as if commanded by the old fox himself, her fingers quickly began to turn and fold the bill sharply. Within a moment, she could feel the lines and angles of a paper airplane, exactly as she'd learned to make one all those years ago. The captain aimed it generally upward, but in no particular direction.

She never could be sure where exactly the bill had landed, but just as she tasted "Nine" on her lips, the room was suddenly filled with a warm light, dimmer than before. With the fringes of her vision still framed in shadow, all Yasha could see before her was the triumphant figure of Koqee gripping the bill tight in her little fist, her face alight with pride. There was so much warmth on the little green face that the captain couldn't help but smile back, and even clap softly in appreciation of the goblin's efforts. As the rest of the lights switched on, she could hear another set of hands echoing her applause, and she suspected Claude was just as impressed as she was.

"Not bad," Yasha remarked, folding her arms across her chest. "Looks like you've got quick legs in addition to sharp eyes. We could use that." Glancing over her shoulder, she cocked her head towards the quartermaster. "What do you think, Claude? Should we take her for a test run?"

"I think that would be appropriate," the white-haired figure replied. Striding gracefully over to the goblin, they bent over in front of Koqee until their stony gray eyes were locked with her. "You do understand, of course, that we are taking on a great risk by exposing the location of our ship and our crew to you. Should we decide you are not an appropriate fit for the position, we will do whatever is necessary to ensure the safety of these elements. Do you understand that, Miss Koqee?" The androgyne's voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the threat beneath it.

Yasha clapped a firm hand on the goblin's shoulder. "Well I for one think she's going to do fine," she announced clearly. "Wyn and Kiki can show her the ropes, and--"

"Doesn't anyone care about what I think?" came the interrupting grumble from Red across the room. Judging by the heaviness of his brow and the scowl twisting his mouth, it was quite obvious to all of them he was no more warmer to the pilot than he had been when she first walked in.

"No," the captain answered brightly. "You're here as the muscle, remember, not the brain. Now if you'll use those muscles to get the door, I don't fancy sitting in this stinkhole any longer than I have to."

As it would turn out, Red did not need to make any effort to open the door. No sooner had Yasha finished her thought about said "stinkhole" than the door open on its own, revealing the form of a tall man dressed in suspiciously ragged clothing when you considered the neat cut of his black hair and goatee. All three of the crewmembers were also wise enough to know that no tramp, thief, or other downtrodden resident of the sewers would ever carry a RCPD sidearm, even if they could get their hands on one.

"Captain Yasha, I presume?" the man said, drawing the gun from its holster and pointing towards the best-dressed woman in the room. "I'm afraid you and your companions are going to have to come with me. My superiors have some questions--"

"I actually have a question myself," Yasha cut off, one hand digging more firmly into Koqee's shoulder while the other slid not towards her own gun, but towards the long, thin knife on her belt. "Are you really the kind of fuckwit who would fire a gun in the sewer, or do Imperial schools just not teach physics anymore?"

The officer cocked the hammer back in reply. "I really don't think you want to find that out, miss. I might get hit, but I think the odds are better that I would take out you or one of your people. Numbers, and all that."

"Uh-huh," the captain nodded. "Second question: why the fuck are you pointing that at me when there's a fellow right there with two swords drawn?"

This seemed to startle the man for a moment, but a moment was all Red needed. Whirling like a dancer, the big man put all his power behind the blades and sent the officer's head sailing out the door like a ball. "Ten fucking points, how about that?" the boilerman grinned with pride, despite the disdain on his captain and quartermaster's faces.

"Subtle," Claude stated with a raised eyebrow. "You do realize the likelihood he was alone is...

"EVERYONE FREEZE!" roared a voice in the main room. "YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST FOR HARBORING A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION!"

Yasha sighed and drew her knife, then glanced down at Koqee. "Here we go. I guess we'll get to test how fast you are after all. Stay with us, all right? We won't be coming back for you if you get separated."

Giving the goblin a little squeeze on the shoulder, she took off running for the door of the inn, bobbing and weaving between tables with the rest of her crew in tow.

 

[CasualVelociraptor]

Koqee couldn't quite believe that she had, in fact, accomplished the challenge that Yasha had thrown out there on her first try. Her mother had said that she couldn't do things so many times, shouted about how she should never even try, about how, that she'd started to believe it herself. She'd even thought that she would never be able to actually get her pilot's certificate...that this would just be another thing for people to whisper about. Whether Yasha was a pirate or not, Koqee realized that her approval (at least, such as it could be from the mouth of a restrained captain such as she) had been just the thing she needed. Perhaps, she told herself, she could relax for one freaking second. She could pat herself on the back, and all those nights reading copies of Abigail Woods novels, looking up at the sky and knowing that a woman was the first to put a powered engine in the air, and newspapers (usually ones detailing the latest criminal Alice put behind bars) that she found in the trash were worth it.

The goblin was so infused with nervous energy, in fact, that she half-said, half-stumbled, "Alright, Claude, you won't let me down. I mean, I won't let you down. I promise to you, to Yasha, to everyone here, that I'm loyal to the end." She could also have sworn she jumped in the air an inch or two, but she may also have blacked out. It was hard to know, or even see another living soul in the pub, with all this excitement.

Perhaps, she told herself as the arc of her jump end, not thinking about her breasts just finished bouncing under her tight shirt, she could start thinking of a better life for herself in the air. And why not? Nothing tied her down any more, and the world on the ground was so...grimy. Dark. Much like the sewer that she never, ever wanted to be. Instead, like the balloons she'd seen in pictures (as she had not, as yet, actually flown an airship!), she could take off, and be free.

Any fantasizing about a life of piracy on the high jet streams was quickly cut short, however, as the RCPD busted in. This was exactly what her mother had warned her about. But did she listen? NO. Instead, she pursued her silly dreams like a silly girl, and this was where strange notes dropped by dead messenger crows had gotten her. Or rather, was about to get her...In jail, on a boat to Jogadunda for a life of hard labor (usually reserved for homosexuals), or with a bullet to the gut. That was the life that so many people in Radiant City were ground up in, but that Koqee somehow thought she could escape.

Koqee wanted, desperately, two very different things right now: to get back to her tiny flat, as if it was all a bad dream, and to never have done this in the first place. Neither choice laid out before her- whether to run with a woman she barely knew or throw herself on the mercy of the RCPD and hope they didn't beat her to next Tuesday- would accomplish either. This made Koqee stiffen up, paralyzed and perhaps playing dead.

Then Yasha took her knife and commanded the young goblin's attention without raising her voice an octave. The even keel and pacing of those words, as well as the self-assuredness of her plan, made every syllable of "Here we go. I guess we'll get to test how fast you are after all. Stay with us, all right? We won't be coming back for you if you get separated" a comfort to Koqee.

And Koqee was, indeed, newly resolved to set forth on her life's next adventure-

-when the tall and yet surprisingly flexible dampfsteel leg of one of the RCPD's lethal Strider units kicked down the door to the front of the bar, beaning Yasha on the head and knocking her to one side on the floor.

As Koqee rushed to her aid, one of the undercover RCPD officers, a wrinkle-scarred woman wielding a scattergun that meant serious business, snarled, "You may've killed Captain Seamus, but there's no way out for any of ya flyin' rats! So the lot of ya just give yourselves up now, ye pirate scum. Unless ya wanna be terraplat food, in which case...that can be arranged." As she concluded, a couple other officers appeared through the once secret sewer entrance, and plainsclothes patrons revealed themselves to be anything but as the few genuine civilians escaped out the hole in the front door.

That gave Koqee a thought. When Seamus' head went flying like a chargeball (often kicked or thrown by one of the players she admired from the wooden rafters underneath the poorly maintained stands), he'd dropped his gun. Where had it gone to...?

One shot rang up through the bar until it collided with and snuffed out the automakerze candle. With it went the main light, and without the whale oil burning inside that candle, steam was also no longer sent to the other electrical fixtures in the establishment, and it would take several minutes for the bar to switch to the public grids for both steam and electricity. No other gunfire succeeded it, as none of the RCPD patrolpersons wanted to risk hitting their fellows; so, Koqee had bought them some time, it seemed.

But to do what?

And in any case, unbeknownst to any of them, something was disturbed by the fighting. And realized it was hungry.