The Son Of Asclepius, Demi-god Doctor

Twelve heads are better than six

"You are in so much trouble," Clarisse said. 

The four of them just finished a ship tour they didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. They saw the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. They were shown the pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favourite) with two Dahlgren smooth bore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine inch rifled gun fore and aft-all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannon balls. Everywhere they went, dead Confederate sailors stared at them, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were interested in Percy too, because his name was Jackson-like the Southern general but then ruined it by telling them he was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees. They ignored (Y/N) for the most part, surprising since most of the undead wished for nothing more than revival, but it was welcome for once. Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about, but it gave (Y/N) a good laugh. Finally, he and the others were escorted to dinner. The CSS Birmingham captain's quarters were about the sizeof a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. The son of Asclepius had water. 

"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse told Percy, Annabeth and Tyson smugly. 

"Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he'll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV. And you," she pointed at (Y/N). "Well surprisingly Mr D didn't say anything about punishing you, so I guess we're fine." 

"Did they give you this ship?" Percy interrupted.

"'Course not. My father did."

"Ares?" The daughter of Ares sneered. 

"You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won't you, Captain?" 

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes gazed over them with a hungry stare. 

"If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace at last, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone." 

Clarisse smiled. "Destroy anyone. I like that."

Tyson gulped.

"Clarisse," Annabeth said, "Luke might be after the Fleece, too. We saw him. He's got the coordinates and he's heading south. He has a cruise ship full of monsters-"

"Good! I'll blow him out of the water."

"You don't understand," Annabeth said. We have to combine forces. Let us help you-"

"No!" Clarisse pounded the table. "This is my quest, smart girl! Finally I get to be the hero, and you lot will not steal my chance." 

"Clarisse," (Y/N) spoke, "Where are your cabin mates? You know it's essential for three members of any quest, especially one like this with such dire consequences." 

"They didn't ... I let them stay behind. To protect the camp."

"You mean even the people in your own cabin wouldn't help you?" 

Percy Jackson needed to shut his mouth more often. 

"Shut up, Prissy! I don't need them! Or you!" 

"Clarisse," the son of Poseidon continued, "Tantalus is using you. He doesn't care about the camp. He'd love to see it destroyed. He's setting you up to fail."