“The ship is fully refueled, restocked, and rearmed,” Kazzul’s voice came over the farshout. “Ready to take off on the captain’s word.”

Stephan sat on the edge of the bed in his cabin. He turned his new, ornate gun over in his hands. Taira sat next to him, eyes idly scanning over a book.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Stephan admitted. “I worry that the captain hasn’t learned her lesson from the last trip.”

“You had a bad feeling before,” Taira said without looking up. “It worked out.”

“Barely.”

“Still. Quincy is the queen of close escapes.”

Stephan sighed. “I suppose. Let’s hope our luck holds.” He holstered his Rivello. He still had some reservations about using the weapon, but the more time that passed the less his conscience plagued him, an annoying buzz in the back of his head.

“Will she make you fight again?” Taira asked.

“I… don’t think so, no,” Stephan said. “She hasn’t said anything about it, at least.”

“Good. Then no worries. Our warriors will do the fighting. You will do your job.”

“Cooking doesn’t seem all that useful right now,” Stephan said with a sigh.

Taira shuffled a little closer to him, still without looking up. “You are good for morale. The food, yes, but your words soothe, as well.”

Stephan smiled a little, and they shared a brief moment of eye contact as Taira glanced up before her gaze darted back to her book. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s actually comforting.”

The ship hummed to life beneath them, engines rumbling.

“Okay people, we are ago!” Kazzul’s voice crackled once more over the farshout. “Settle in for a lovely cruise. We should arrive at Last Leg in a couple hours. I’d tell you to buckle up, but we’re expecting nothing but rainbows and sunshine on the way.”

Rainbows and sunshine, huh? Stephan thought. Let’s hope.

*****

Stephan pitched over and hurled into a bucket as harsh oceanic winds buffeted the ship. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he muttered curses as he wiped vomit from his lips with a tissue.

A peal of thunder, perilously close, set Stephan’s teeth chattering. Torch screamed at the sound and curled up in a corner of the rec room with his arms over his head, eyes wide. He whimpered and muttered incoherently even once the sound had faded.

“What’s wrong with him?” Stephan asked between gulping breaths.

“He’s always like this in a storm,” Yin said, outstretched on the couch like a cat. “Must be that weak Concordian constitution. You’re not faring much better, after all.” She rocked with the ship, completely unaffected by the raging storm separated only by a few centimeters of metal.

Regardless of Yin’s dismissive tone, Stephan kept a careful eye on the pyromaniac. Torch recoiled as if struck with every crack of thunder, his whimpers growing more insistent.

Stephan held back another wave of vomit and stumbled to his feet, slowly making his way over to Torch. He knelt in front of the man, putting a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Away, away!” Torch cried. He wriggled like a worm, ended up kicking Stephan in the chin, and sent him onto his behind. “Smoke in my lungs… Can’t breathe!”

“Slow down, now,” Stephan said, putting on a calm, authoritative voice. “Deep breaths. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Rainbows and sunshine, my ass, he thought bitterly.

Torch grabbed Stephan by his suit with both hands, pulled him close. Torch’s face was a mask of utter panic. “It burns!” he said.

“Okay, crazy, keep it to yourself,” Yin said, inspecting the roof with particular interest.

“You’re okay,” Stephan insisted. “Nothing’s burning you.”

Torch seemed ill convinced, so Stephan staggered over to the freeze box and fetched him a frozen slab of meat. Torch let out the barest sigh as he clutched it to his chest, eyes flickering closed. He let his head fall back against the wall with a thump.

Stephan stood back with a nod. That seems to have helped, at least.

“Hang on, everybody!” Kazzul called over the farshout. “I should be able to get us through this in one piece if I can just…”

A deafening boom shook the ship. Stephan was thrown off his feet. The floor tilted sharply, and he was forced to push off against the couch with his legs to avoid rolling. The magelights in the ceiling flickered.

A scream of agony reverberated through every part of the ship. Bloody, jagged runes appeared on the walls.

“Scratch that!” Kazzul shouted, voice crackling and cutting out in places. “This is /…/ to be bad! /…/ down! Strap in! /…/ going down!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Torch muttered. Sliding on the floor, he reached up and ripped off his biomech prosthetic. He clawed at the lumpy, scarred skin of the remaining stump, drawing blood.

Yin came first, though. He had to make sure she was safe.

“Yin, we need to get you strapped in!” Stephan called.

Yin leapt up off the couch and headed towards the crew quarters. “I can handle it! Worry about yourself, old man!”

“Fair enough,” Stephan muttered, struggling to stand. The consistent rattling, shaking, and tilting made that difficult. He fell a fair few times before he got his feet underneath him. He turned to the incapacitated demolitionist behind him.

“Torch, stand up,” he said.

Torch was unresponsive. He lay on his back, eyes rolled behind the lids.

“Oh, eternal hells,” Stephan swore. He made his way over to Torch and struggled to lift him into a sitting position. A violent rumble nearly knocked Stephan off his feet. He straightened out and lifted Torch onto his back.

He gave silent thanks to whatever divine powers he could think of that Torch was slight of build. Even so, Stephan struggled to keep the man on his shoulders, legs nearly buckling under the weight.

“We’re going to make it, buddy,” Stephan grunted as he carried Torch towards the cabins. The words were as much for himself as for Torch.

“Land spotted!” Kazzul called over the clangor of the failing ship. “I’m going to /…/ emergency landing!”

Yin came out of her cabin, spotted Stephan, and met him halfway down the hall. Without much effort, she lifted Torch off his shoulders and placed him on her own.

“Figured you might need some help,” she said, heading into Torch’s cabin. “I’ve got him. You sort yourself out.”

Stephan stood there sheepishly for a moment before instinct willed him into action. He headed further down the hall, a hand on the wall to steady himself as lights flickered overhead. He shouldered through the door into Taira’s cabin, opposite his own.

Taira was trying to buckle herself into the fold-out chair on the opposite end of the room. She fumbled with the thick straps, eyes glassy. She was clearly in shock.

Stephan rushed over to her, got on his knees, and took the buckles out of her hands. He clasped them together and pulled the straps tight.

“No, help yourself,” Taira said.

Stephan smiled up at her as he tightened the last strap. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist helping a lady in need.” He gave the harness a last tug to make sure it was secure, then stood. “Now to get myself—”

The ship came to an abrupt, ear-splitting stop. Stephan was thrown off his feet and into the wall. His head hit the metal, and everything went black.