When Gunny returns from the arduous task of securing enough water for the next leg of their journey, she learns that their cargo has already been secured. This is rather unusual, so she heads down to the cargo hold to investigate. There, she finds an unexpected — and unwelcome — surprise.
"Who the hell are you?"
In spite of what she's been told, she finds the cargo hold nearly empty. All that's in the hold of the Nameless at the moment is one thing — a girl.
One who doesn't seem to be paying any particular attention to Gunny.
"I said, who the hell are you?"
The girl looks up at Gunny, and Gunny realizes that she's older than she first appeared. Eighteen, probably, or close enough to pass for it. The look on her face reflects none of the confusion that Gunny feels, instead showing a surprising curiosity. "Hello," she says. "You must be Gunny."
Gunny doesn't say anything. The young woman isn't exactly helping herself with what she's saying's — Gunny can't help being suspicious of someone who knows her name before they've been introduced.
"I said—"
"Yes, yes, I heard. Who the hell are you and all that. And, let me guess — you're wondering where the cargo is, right? Well, I can help you with that. I'm the cargo. My name's Alice."
"MAL!"
Gunny's shout is loud enough to wake the dead. It certainly does the job against all drunks in range, of which there are a surprising number. Mal isn't one of them, but he almost wishes he were. Gunny's ungainly shout is loud and jarring enough to give him the corresponding headache anyway, and for now there's nothing to do but grumble under his breath as he gets up from his desk and hauls open the door to his cabin.
"Yes, Gunny?" he says mildly, standing in the doorway. He can just see the top of Gunny's head from where he is.
"The cargo's been delivered," she says as she climbs up to the lower deck.
"Yes, I know."
"And it's not cargo — it's a person."
He frowns in her direction, though she doesn't see it. "What?"
"You mean you didn't actually watch it get loaded? Or did she stow away in a crate she's hidden somewhere?"
"What—?"
The young woman, meanwhile, has started to climb the ladder behind Gunny. As she rises above the deck, Mal first gets sight of a head of dark hair, and then a pair of startling gray-green eyes so light they seem to glow. When her eyes meet his, she hesitates under the harshness of his gaze.
At least she looks pleased to see him, even if he's not reciprocating.
"Hello," she says. "Captain Mal, right?"
"Just Mal," he grumbles.
"Hello, Mal," she says. "I'm Alice."
He stares blankly at the girl for a few moments, hoping to see something familiar in the curve of her cheekbones or the dark tones of her hair. But none of that looks familiar to him, which means that she's not someone trying to pass themselves off as his daughter.
So he sighs and curses the flehtkuv Redunai that asked him for a favor. A small favor, Benny had said. Nothing big — just some live cargo that's got to fly under the Company's radar, and needs to get where it's going fast.
And Mal owed him a few favors, so he'd agreed, as little as he'd liked it. And now here they are with not some stolen cargo, as he'd half expected, but an entire living, breathing, human who was to be kept out of the Company's sight.
Lovely.
"Well, you'd best come up here, Alice," Mal says. "No need for you to be sleeping down there. There's a perfectly good cabin you could use."
Gunny gives Mal a pointed look. She knows perfectly well that the Ship Without A Name has precisely one cabin, and it belongs to the captain. Which means one of two things — Mal is gonna kick Den out of the kitchen and call it a cabin, or he's going to join Gunny in the crew's quarters. Either way, she's about to get a roommate, which is not something she'd agreed to.
"Since when are we taking on passengers?" she asks Mal. It's not terribly subtle, but she's not sure she has the patience to be, at this point.
"Since we needed the coin," Mal says. "She's going to Tuanaki. It won't be much trouble of a trip, and if we stop at Aparo first we can make a killing on basic supplies."
Gunny frowns, and then shrugs. "Whatever you say, Captain," she says. Her tone is only a little mocking, for which Mal silently applauds her. "You gotta sling your own hammock though."
And with that Gunny strides off. She only heads for the far side of the deck, but it's far enough from the gas lamps by the ladders that Alice has to squint to see her. "Did I say something wrong?" Alice asks.
"Not you," Mal says. "Come on, get up from there. No reason to be down there without a cargo."
Alice scampers up the rest of the ladder, and Mal watches her do it. She isn't fazed by the climbing, but she hasn't quite got airlegs, either.
"So, you spent much time on airships?" he asks. Something about this young woman is interesting, and it's not just her particular combination of youth and tricky relationship with the Company. She certainly wouldn't be the first such youth he's met. Though, of all the islands she'd choose to run away to, he couldn't imagine how she could have chosen Tuanaki.
"Not as much as I'd like," Alice admits. "I'd like to own one, but everyone takes one look at my pretty little face and tells me to go send my daddy to buy me the ship for my birthday."
"You don't look old enough to own an airship," Mal says. She still looks a teen, for all she doesn't address him like she were.
"I'm twenty years old," she says. "It's not like it's my fault I don't look it."
"Oh, please, like twenty is old enough to own an airship. No one under the age of thirty has nearly the experience they'd to sail one by themself, much less be able to manage a crew..."
"And I suppose you've always been older than thirty, hmm, Mr. Elf?" she teases. Mal looks at her sternly... and then slowly grins.
"Alright, you've got me," he says. "Elves start counting their age at thirty. So forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that you're only twenty..."
Alice grins. "Well, we humans start counting at zero. So maybe if you can make that adjustment..."
"Right," Mal says, shaking his head to hide his own grin. "Well, I'll show you the cabin, I suppose. And try not to break anything, hear. This is the only place on the ship with a locking door, so we've left some... valuables inside. I would greatly appreciate it if you could refrain from picking our locks from sheer curiosity. The locks are there for a reason."
Alice shoots him a sidelong glance, something unreadable in her expression, and then gestures for him to go on. So he turns around and walks back into the cabin he so recently decided to vacate. He's not going to particularly enjoy being away from his things, but the trip should be short enough, and all they gotta do is get her there.
In the meantime, he can only pray that his leg doesn't need any maintenance and then everything will be fine.
"What makes you think I know how to pick a lock?" Alice asks, her face a picture of innocence. Mal now lets his grin show.
"You're sixteen and running from the Company. If you didn't know how to pick a lock I'd want to know how you've managed to survive this long on the goodwill of others."
Alice's gaze dips to the ground. There's only a few possessions of hers she's kept these last four years, and her picks are one of them. "I'm twenty," she says. It's the only part of Mal's statement worth correcting.
"And you paid Benny a handsome fare to get on the fastest ship he could find. And he found me, and most of that fare made its way into my pocket, and the Nameless has enough fuel to get to Tuanaki by way of Aparo."
"I thought we were going straight to Tuanaki," Alice says. She's standing in the doorway, not yet having crossed into the cabin. It's not that she doesn't feel welcome — on the contrary, as a matter of fact. The hiss and clank of steam vents runs through this room as it did through her childhood homes. The cabin gleams mahogany wood and brass fixtures, and Alice basks in it for a moment. Then, her question presses, and she steps forward, crossing the threshold. "That's what I paid for, anyway. A trip to Tuanaki. Not Aparo."
"So think of it as a bonus," Mal says absently. He's busy haphazardly rounding up the most important of his papers and things, and locking away all the rest. "A two-for-the-price-of-one deal, as it were."
"I don't want to go to Aparo."
"You paid me well. I'll be paid better for delivering a whole load of basic supplies to a distant outpost. And if I'm gonna bother going all the way out to Tuanaki, I'd better make sure the whole trip is worth my while, hmm? Plus, maybe when we get to Aparo and you see how tiny a place that is, you'll change your mind about whatever nonsense it is that has you wanting to go to Tuanaki."
Alice glares at him. "I'm going to Tuanaki."
"Yeah, yeah, just trying to provide my worldly wisdom," Mal mutters. "Anyway, here's the cabin. Bunk's over there, there's a wash basin there, and like I said, don't go picking any locks. I mean it. I've got a respectable reputation with the Company, and I'm only doing this because I owe Benny a favor. Make my life difficult and I'll call the Company the first chance I get."
Alice sobers instantly. The ensuing look she gives Mal chills him to the bone. "You don't want to do that," she says.
"Then you should make sure not to cause any trouble," he says. "I mean it. I could call them now if—"
"Get this floating trash bin out of here and then you can go back to threatening me. I'm really not in the mood to put up with bullshit from the person I hired to take me where I'm going."
"I'm happy to leave you on Huana."
"And what makes you think you're the only sailor in these docks who owes Benny a favor? You're not the best ship here, only the fastest."
The comment, surprisingly, stings. So Mal gathers up his loose papers, turns on his heel, and marches out the door. It's only when he's in the doorway that he stops, turns, and addresses Alice. "Enjoy your trip."
He slams the door shut behind him.
#
The whole ship shakes in the wake of the slammed door. Gunny and Den look up from their cards to see Mal storming out of the cabin with a look that should start fires. If it were anyone else, they'd be concerned.
"I'm surprised that Mal managed to piss off our first passenger in five minutes," Gunny says, staring at her cards. There's nothing exciting about her hand — and the dealer's cards don't help things.
"I'm not," Den says. He plays a pair and then rolls the dice — seven.
"That's true," Gunny says as he draws. She doesn't have anything to play, and draws immediately after. "What I meant was — I'm surprised it took five whole minutes."
"Aces," Den announces, showing his hand. Gunny doesn't even bother wasting the breath of a groan — she simply hands over the coins and gets to her feet.
"I'm going to see if he needs anything," she announces.
"The captain or the cargo?" Den asks. Gunny gives him a strange look, but at least what he's said is all in Common.
"The captain," she says slowly. "Maybe you should get the furnace ready?"
"She's been hot since the morning," Den says. "Needed to bake the biscuits."
Gunny nods once — how could she have forgotten? — and then heads out to crew's quarters. Technically, the only designated areas in the ship are the cabin, the kitchen, and the cargo hold; only Gunny has divided the main level of the ship into further subsections — namely, crew's quarters and armory. Since, so far, she has been the only crew member sleeping in those quarters, it hasn't mattered all that much, but she wants to make sure the divisions stay.
Sure enough, Mal has put his hammock up on the wrong side already. Gunny manages to catch him as he's sitting in it and sorting out some papers. He's surprisingly receptive to moving his hammock, even though he grumbles about it during the whole moving process.
Finally, he settles on his hammock and sorts out the papers he really needs. None of them will really matter until they reach Aparo, but there's a chance they'll need to show them on the way out. Huana hasn't traditionally been a port that checked departures, but just in case...
"Everything alright, Cap'n? With the — cargo?"
"She'll be fine," Mal says distractedly. "I just need our shipping manifest."
"Why? We won't need that til Aparo — will we?"
Mal shrugs. He looks up at the closed door to his cabin, and Gunny catches the look. "She's not exactly a friend of the Company," he says carefully.
"Mal," Gunny says sharply. "Why do we have human cargo?"
Instead of answering, Mal reaches for the goggles hanging around his neck and sets them into place with a snap. "We've got sailing to do," he says.
Gunny sighs. Then she puts on her own goggles and follows her captain up to the deck.
#
A Company support ship escorts them out of the dock — not because anything is wrong, but rather, because Huana's weather can be difficult and the best way to prevent crashes is to fly a narrow channel between air currents. Gunny watches them go for far longer than she really needs to, the all-too-familiar logo of the great Piers & Son Co. flapping from their mast.
Only once the airship is firmly out of sight does Gunny turn back to Mal. "Are you sure about this cargo?" she shouts.
They're picking up real speed finally, and the wind whips across the deck with a vengeance. It nearly eats Mal's response. "We needed cargo!"
"So take something questionable, not someone!"
"—didn't want anything questionable—Benny asked for a favor—"
Gunny sighs. This clearly isn't the place to discuss it — and now that Mal is out a cabin, she's not sure what the place to discuss it would be. The kitchen, maybe?
"—up to me, she wouldn't be here, that's for sure."
It's only the end of a rant, but it's the important part, certainly. Gunny turns to add something and that's when she sees the dark-haired figure near the ladder. She disappears for an instant — Gunny rubs her eyes. When they clear she sees Alice emerging on deck looking for all the world like she was raised on an airship.
However, when the first words out of her mouth are spoken, not shouted, Gunny breathes a strange sigh of relief. She's not sure why, but she's certainly relieved that their cargo only looks the part of a sailor.
On the second try, she's loud enough to hear. "Why is it so windy?"
"You wanted fast," Mal grunts. "This is fast!"
Gunny grins. Alice tries to ask another question, but it, too, is snatched away by the wind. In the meantime, Gunny walks a circuit of the deck. It's not terribly large, but they've all got their duties on the ship, and one of Gunny's most important ones is keeping an eye out for the blacksails.
No one's exactly sure where the pirates came from, but everyone knows the blacksails are bad news. Like all well-feared pirates, there are terrible legends about the things the blacksails have done — burned entire islands to ash, ripped organs out of living people, possessed living souls from only the act of making eye contact. Gunny's never believed much of the tales, but she's always loved telling them. The feeling of terror they inspire is entertainment on its own.
For all the blacksails are villainous, they are at least easily recognizable by their eponymous black-sailed airships. While no one has gotten close enough to actually find out whether black sails always mean blacksails, the black-sailed ships have been encroaching on the standard trade routes in recent years. Getting out to somewhere like Tuanaki actually poses a certain, unavoidable level of risk, simply because it is not a major enough island to merit getting its own Company shipyard. And without a Company shipyard there's no defensive support available, so there's no reason the blacksails should stay away, if they really are pirates.
Which, of course, only means that Tuanaki must be dying for supplies, even basic foodstuffs. If they could get some fine linen or spices...
Alice shouts out a question, but Gunny is too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear it. She does, however, hear Mal's response.
"Two days," he shouts. "And then three, maybe four more to Tuanaki."
It doesn't seem to be the answer Alice was looking for, but she doesn't press the question. Instead she heads back down the hatch.
Yes, little girl, go back downstairs and dream of the wonders of living on an airship, she thinks. It's not the most pleasant response, and she briefly regrets it. Still, her thoughts aren't getting in the way of anything, and with any luck this experience will teach them a lesson about checking out their cargo before they take it. Either way, in a good six days, they'll be through with this particular cargo once and for all. And how hard could it be to make it through six days?