Chapter 12

Hank awoke to the view sunlight beaming down through a grim-covered steel grate.  For just a few moments, he had absolutely no clue where he was.  He was starkly aware, however, of the face that his stomach felt like a forest fire.  What had happened?  But then he remembered.  That big guy catching him, kneeing him in the gut; pretty cheap thing to do.  That same large fellow throwing him onto the floor of some old runner.  There had been others, too, in the runner with him, he remembered.  They had flown for a while before arriving at that Mercury that had been chasing them.  He had been hit again – he didn’t quite recall where – then things had gone black.

He sat up, one hand cradling his stomach and the other rubbing his head.  There were the others, he saw.  Five others, to be specific.  No Quincy, though.  His head throbbed during the periods his stomach didn’t, so he decided that he had been hit in the head.  That wasn’t a good thing, as far as he was concerned.  The other men in the room with him didn’t seem to be in as bad a shape, though it was dark so it was marginally hard to tell.

“Where are we,” he asked to no one in particular.

“Makeshift dungeon, looks like,” one of the closest men said.  “Are you alright?  They gave you quite the thrashing.”

“I’m fine,” he lied, rubbing his temple again.  “Where’s Quincy?”

“The mechanic guy?  Don’t know.  They never threw him in here, that’s all I know.”

“Great.”  He struggled to his feet and walked a bit about their enclosure.  It was relatively large, as far as dungeon chambers went.  Hank guessed that it was the main cargo hold.  It would be empty as it was, he reasoned, to make it light and let it fly faster.  They had planned ahead.  Somehow he had never attributed this particular skill to pirates but there he was.  He looked back to the man that had talked before.

“So how do we get out of here?”

“Oh, you want to leave?  Well the door’s just over there, then.  Have a nice trip.”  The other members of the crew standing and sitting about started to laugh.  “Don’t you think we’ve already tried that?  Door is locked up tight and there’s no reaching the bay doors in the ceiling.  Might as well make yourself comfortable, boy.”

“Right.  Or I’ll just go get out of here myself.”

Standing up as straight as he could, he walked over to the relatively small hatch that stood at the far end of the cargo hold.  He gave a furtive pull on the handle, hoping against hope that they had forgotten to lock it or something.  He had no such luck, though.  With a curse, he kicked the door and peered through the little port window set within.  There wasn’t much to see beyond: just a simply hallway that bent to the right just a few yards from the door, and a gruff looking guy sitting on a chair a short distance away.  Hank decided to get his attention.

“Hey!  Hey you, you bloody pirate!  Over here!”  He banged and bashed on the door, making as much noise as possible.  The guard glanced over, but did little else.  Cursing again, Hank glanced about looking for something to aid him in his noise-making.  After a moment, he located a bundle of pipe lying in the corner.  It seemed to be the spare stuff the maintenance people used.  He pulled one free and returned to the door, banging away at the glass of the window as hard as he could.  This elicited a more overt response from the guard: he got up and walked off.

“Oh, come on!  What’s wrong with this place?”  Hank threw the pipe against the door and walked back over to where the crew sat.  “I always thought that sort of thing would at least get them to open the door.”

“This isn’t some radio adventure show.  Not sit down before you get the lot of us in trouble.”

With a huff, Hank sat.  He felt the ship rock slightly under him and he wondered idly as to where they were headed.  Pirates like to hide in the bushes, he knew, and he only remembered seeing one that was even marginally close.  That’s probably where they were going.  Why had they been looking for old Quincy, though?  More even more importantly, why had they taken six others, including him?  It didn’t really seem to make a whole lot of sense, as far as he was concerned.  He was sure that he would be able to figure out a way to escape before too long, though.

Suddenly, the far door creaked and groaned before finally swinging open, the pipe sliding along noisily behind it.  Two men walked in, one the guard that Hank had seen sitting lazily in the hall.  He had a gun in his hand this time, though.

“Which one was it,” asked the other man.  He didn’t seem to be armed.

“That one,” the guard said, pointing at Hank.  “Little bugger was banging on the door with this here pipe.  Thought he had gone mad.  Maybe even broke something.”

“Give it here,” the other man said, taking the pipe from him.  He hefted it in his hand for a moment, as if testing its balance, before nodding and walking over to Hank.  “Boy, where you making a ruckus?”

“That’s right I was.  Now let me out of here, you little…”

He was unable to finish his sentence, however, as the pipe smashed down into the side of his head, knocking him out cold once again.

 

ge

 

Yet again, Hank found himself returning to consciousness without an accurate recollection as to how he had gotten into his current situation.  This time, however, the memory came back faster thanks to the rope that bound his hand and ankles.  The chair he was sitting on was particularly hard, he also noticed, and was sure that this was part of the pirates’ diabolical plot.  Sighing, ho looked about once more.  This was a markedly smaller room, though it had windows.  It looked, in fact, like somewhere the captain might sleep and conduct his business.

“How do you like my office,” Lloyd suddenly asked from behind him, as if to validate his suspicions.  “It’s a little nicer than that dingy cargo hold, I’d wager.  Never liked it down there; too dark and creepy.  They say airmen get diseases from the musty places.”

“Uh-huh.  Where’s Quincy,” Hank asked, straining his neck in an attempt to actually see the pirate captain.

“He’ll be here momentarily, don’t worry.  But I just thought I’d ask you a question or two before he arrived.  Would that be okay?”

“You could burn for all I care.”

“But… that’s not very nice,” Lloyd said, sounding truly hurt.  “I just wanted to talk a bit.  Like, how was your trip north?  Heard some bad things are happening down south recently.”

“Just some bloody pirates doing the only thing they can do; cause trouble.  Dumb, though.  The Guard will be on all of you in no time at all.”

“Oh, I think the Colonial Guard will have its hands full for quite some time.  The Devilfish are causing quite a stir, quite a stir.  I’ve never really seen or heard of anything like it before.  Not since Blackbeard blockaded Charleston, North Carolina anyway.  But that was a while ago.  Ah, Mr. Boone!  Please, come in.”

Hank heard a door creak open and footsteps and two people entered the room.  He was trying to listen, but his chair was suddenly jerked around to face the room and he no longer needed to guess what was going on.  Lloyd continued to wear the getup he had worn back on the Iron Dove, looking ridiculous as ever.  Quincy also had a greatcoat on, as usual, but he actually pulled it off.  He didn’t look hurt or anything, as far as Hank could tell, though maybe a little dirtier than normal.  The third and final person, he saw, was Ivan.  That guy scared him; he had to admit a little.  Upon closer inspection, the man was more like a mountain, with virtually no neck, arms bigger than Hank’s thighs, and a face that screamed of former fistfights.

“Hank, my boy,” Quincy said when he saw him, stepping in his direction.  Ivan, however, put out his arm and shook his head to stop him.  Coming up short, Quincy looked Hank over quickly.  “Looks like they roughed you up a bit.  You alright?”

“I’ve had worse,” Hank yet again lied.  He was actually in more pain that he could ever remember being in previously.  “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, just fine, just fine.  Just had me locked up in a room down the hall for a spell.  Nothing too serious.”

“How touching,” Lloyd said, looking between the two.  “Now are we all satisfied?  We have business to attend to.”

“Yes, this business you keep talking about.  What is it you want, son?”

“I want what the Devilfish want.”  He then leaned back in his comfy leather chair, smiling devilishly and rubbing his hands together in front of his face.  From the look of him, you’d think he had said the cleverest thing ever conceived.  As such, he was somewhat displeased by Quincy’s answer.

“And what might that be?”

“Well, they…but you… how do you not know?”

“Well I haven’t met any Devilfish lately, to be honest.  How am I supposed to know what they’re wantin’?”

“But...  Ivan, does that make sense?”

“Possible,” the big man said.  “May not know.”

“What are you people getting at,” Hank blurted as he looked about and forth between the three men.  “Obviously we have no idea what you’re looking for.”

“Well, the Devilfish are looking for you, Mr. Boone.  They’ve been downing ships for about two days now, looking for you.”

“That was for me?  You mean like those two ships we ran into the other night?  Oh my.  I feel downright horrible now.”

“Yes, that was for you.  They’re going through quite a bit of trouble to find you, in fact.  They’re raising all that noise, of course, and that seems to be their main purpose.  But you, my friend, are a small but important side item in the Devilfish’s to-do list.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” Quincy said.

“Tell me about it,” Hank replied.  “What would a bunch of dirty pirates want with a machinist?  There are plenty of those about, no offense Quincy.”

“None taken, boy.”

“That’s what we’d like to know, Mr. Boone.  We, the Periwinkle Gang,” Lloyd said, adding emphasis by once more raising his fist in the air momentarily, “have been looking since we found out the Devilfish were.  They are something of a professional rival, if you will, and we decided if the Devilfish want you so badly, then so do we.”

“But I don’t know why they’d be after me.”

“Hmm.  Nothing comes to mind?”

“No, nothing in particular,” the old man said.

“Maybe lying,” Ivan suggested.

“That’s true, Ivan, that’s true.  Are you telling the truth here, Mr. Boone?”

“Well of course I am.  How dare you accuse an old man of lying?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend.”  Hank decided that this Lloyd “the Blue Fist” Pirate Captain was a very interesting individual, indeed.

“Could be lying again,” Ivan said.

“Hmm.  There’s only one way to make sure, I’m afraid.  Ivan?”

Before Hank could move, Ivan’s hand slammed into the side of his face with surprising force.  After the stars in his eyes began to clear and the throbbing pain started to escalate, he was surprised that Simon had managed so well from such a blow.  Ivan had a mean backhand.

“Now, Mr. Boone, why would the Devilfish want you?”

“I’m telling you, son, I have no idea.”

“A shame.”

The fist slammed into Hank’s gut this time, Ivan somehow twisting his fist as it did.  Already a sensitive area, the fist didn’t help anything.  He struggled to find his breath and made sure he wasn’t going to vomit before looking up again.  Quincy was looking at him with a broken look upon his face, obviously sorry to be causing him such pain.  Hank smiled slightly at that; Quincy was a good man.

“Perhaps you’ve done something the Devilfish would be interested in?  You are a world-class machinist, after all, are you not?  Any devices stick out in your memory?  Or maybe you’re just a go-between to get at someone else.  Any of that ring a bell?”

Quincy barely got to shake his head before Ivan’s palm slapped across Hank’s ear.  It was surprisingly painful.  A slap to the ear shouldn’t really hurt that bad, should it?  Who knew?  He could taste blood and he was sure there was some leaking out elsewhere.  The room was also a little more blurry than usual, as though reality was starting to settle in for a nap.  That was odd.

“Please stop it,” he heard Quincy implore.  “If you’re going to hit someone, hit me.  Why do this to the boy?”

“First, because you are far too valuable to beat.  And secondly, consider this his punishment.  He was supposed to be protecting you, after all, and yet here you are with a bunch of pirates.  He obviously failed and failure is met with punishment.  Now, Mr. Boone, I don’t think your friend can take too many more blows from Ivan.  Why are the Devilfish looking for you?”

Quincy looked at Hank for a moment, a look of sorrow on his face.  Hank simply smiled – or at least tried his best to – and nodded, which caused an avalanche of pain.  Quincy then shook his head once more.

“I don’t know.”

And then, for the third time that day, the world took a nap.

 

ge

 

Hank was getting tired of waking.  The going to sleep part wasn’t too bad, on the whole, and the sleeping part was practically bliss.  But waking always seemed to bring the pain back and he didn’t like that.  His stomach felt like he had recently swallowed a bunch of lava, while he was pretty sure his head had been put inside of a volcano.  Coughing – which sent waves of pain through him – he rolled slightly and, after some internal debate, opened his eyes.  That was something else about waking: he always seemed to be in a different place.  This time, he seemed to be in a room that, while not as nice as Lloyd’s office, was still pretty nice.

“Ah, you’re awake.  Thank goodness,” Quincy said from across the room.  “I thought that last one had cracked your skull.”

“Too tough for that,” Hank croaked, though he wasn’t sure if he actually formed the words correctly.  He slowly struggled to sit up and, after a bit of an effort, managed it.  He noticed Quincy bringing him a glass of water.

“Here, drink up.”  The man forced a mouthful into Hank, which he struggled down before shaking his head.

“No more.  Stomach can’t handle that just yet.”  He once more grabbed his head and looked about.  “Good grief, what’s wrong with those people?  You tell them something and they just ignore you.”

“I’m sorry about that.  I tried to get them to stop, but they just wouldn’t listen.  That Ivan hit you a few more times after you blacked out.  Talked them into letting you stay here, though.  Hopefully that won’t happen again.”

“Here’s hoping.  So, any ideas on why the Devilfish are actually after you?”

“I… may have an idea.  Maybe I should’ve just told them.  Then you wouldn’t be in the shape you’re in.”

“They probably would have done it, anyway.  No worries,” Hank said as his ear felt like it was going to fall off.  “Besides, I doubt it’s anything these pirates would be interested in, anyway, right?”

“I’m not so sure.  You see, back during the war, I was involved in a little weapons project of sorts.  I was just the hands-on guy, of course; actually built the stuff.  I wasn’t with the scientists actually comin’ up with the stuff.  I built a few things for them per their orders and they generally didn’t work too well.  But just before the end, they finally hit on something pretty nifty.  It was, in basic terms, a gun of sorts capable of stopping an airship, naval ship, or most anything else in its tracks.  Given enough power, anyway.”

Hank just starred for a moment.

“Whoa.  Seriously?  That’s pretty crazy, Quincy.  Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

“It’s why I’m going to North Mine, actually.  Off and on since the end of the war, I’ve been called in to help ‘em figure something out.  They were still working on it even though it wasn’t needed.  They quoted Vegetius at me: ‘Let him who desires peace prepare for war’.  A bunch of bollocks, I said.  Well, let’s just say that I figured out how to make their most recent design work.  It’s still not the mighty ship killer that they’re looking for, but it’ll do enough damage.  But I took this job in North to get away from all of that.  Didn’t even tell them how to build it again.  Just left.  So I suppose you could say that I’m the only one who knows how the thing works.”

“I think, Quincy, that I could understand why a pirate may want such a thing.”  Quincy nodded with saying anything.  “But you can’t tell them about it, no matter what.  Even if they want to beat me every day.  You can’t let that nut job Lloyd get a hold of something like that.”

“They’re talking about possibly just tradin’ me over to the Devilfish for a quick profit.  If I had to pick a pirate to be with, it would be our Blue Fist.  I’m gonna have to convince them to keep us around and, preferably, alive.”

“What do you mean.”

“I’m going to offer to build it for them.”

“What?  You can’t, Quincy.  Pirates have been doing enough damage nowadays as it is.  Give them something like you’re describing and it’ll all be over.  They’re run the entire Reach by Christmas.”

“Don’t worry.  I learned how to build something else that may come in handy.  We’ll build that, instead.  They’ll never know the difference.  And,” Quincy said, smiling, “of course I’ll be in the need of an able-bodied assistant.  So maybe they won’t beat you near to death anymore.”

“That sounds good to me,” Hank said, trying to summon a smile, himself.

“Well, then I suppose we should get to work.”