Chapter Seven: The Surreptitious Sailor
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‘Ace ran back to the sick bay’ would be an okay start to a chapter. Perhaps even a pretty good one, if I say so myself, but it wouldn’t be entirely accurate. Anyone who has ever tried to look like they aren’t hurrying while actively trying to move as fast as possible knows exactly what Ace was trying to do. They couldn’t, of course, sprint through the ship, as that would elicit questions from people, and while Ace had quickly become known as less-than-talkative, outright refusal to speak would be more than a little suspicious. On the other hand, they quite desperately wanted to get back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mer-girl out of the porthole again. Perhaps, they thought, she’d swam back around and they could catch another glimpse of her and… what exactly? Like most young people, Ace had a third of a plan and a head full of noise, so they hadn’t thought things through at all. 

 

They stumbled into the room, where Doctor Steward was writing in the doctor’s log, keeping meticulous count of medicine on board, and the health of all of the Siren Song’s crew. He turned around as Ace came in, and raised an eyebrow. For someone who had tried to saunter casually into the room, Ace sure was short of breath. Not even mentioning the fact that Ace could saunter about as well as the average fish. As soon as Ace was aware of their posture and that they were being watched, they got spectacularly uncomfortable. They could sit perfectly still and still feel like they were standing wrong. 

 

They looked at each other for a moment, until Doctor Steward shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember something, which, ultimately, he managed.

 

“Ace, you’re doing quite well, aren’t you?”

 

Ace nodded suspiciously. It seemed like a trap, but they weren’t going to outright say that to Stewart’s face.

 

“You can stay in the bay for one more night, but the captain’s insisted you go back to regular duties starting tomorrow. I’d ask if that was all right with you, but I really don’t think you got a choice in the matter here.”

 

Ace nodded. That seemed fair. They settled into the cot, looking out of the porthole, and then realized that the shark girl wouldn’t know where to find them the next day, and tried to hide their anxiety as best they could, keeping the worst of it contained to stressed finger-picking and teeth-grinding. They weren’t used to outright anxiety. Ace was accustomed to lethargy, ennui and apathy. In short, Ace simply hadn’t found much to care about throughout their life. But now, Ace had joined the land of the caring, and found it to be a place that made them want to pull their hair out. In just a very short amount of time, Ace had come a long way from not caring about very much at all. Before, they’d enjoyed swimming, and not much beyond that.

 

Then, over just a few days, they’d found freedom, and cared about that. Then they’d found something like companionship, perhaps even a home, and cared about that even more, to the point of risking their life for it. In the middle of doing that, they’d found a girl that was as much ocean as she was land and Ace felt things they hadn’t felt before.

 

That wasn’t to say that Ace had never looked at their contemporaries. But they’d never connected with them, largely because the people Ace had grown up around hadn’t been all that interested in connecting with Ace, largely avoiding them and their odd quietness whenever possible. But there was more to it than that. The girl had saved their life, and in the process, she’d looked in their eyes, and they’d looked back, and both had seen something very real there. Something that had made the girl come back. Something that had made Ace stare out the porthole every night since they’d set sail, hoping to catch a glimpse of one another. So Ace cared now. It was a new sensation for them. 

 

To those of you, sweet and wonderful readers, who have cared very deeply, all I can say is that I am truly and deeply sorry. Caring is the most dangerous and painful thing any of us can do, and if you’ve cared before, you most likely have been hurt by that. It’s not a fun thing to do. For those of you who haven’t really cared before, or no longer do, all I can feel is pity, because the only thing worse than caring is not caring. Caring hurts, possibly more than anything else on this earth. Caring opens you up to unimaginable anguish. It’s great. I mean that quite sincerely, and Ace was finding that out too. You see, caring is at the core of many of life’s greatest emotions. To care is to hope. 

 

And Ace hoped, with all their heart, to see her again. They were about to turn in, try to get some sleep, when someone cast a shadow over them, which was already ominous to begin with. There was a soft clearing of a throat, which, one would assume, belonged to the same person as the shadow did, and Ace heard Doctor Steward leave the room. They turned around slowly, and saw Captain Maria stand over them. When the door closed behind the doctor, Maria took a stool and sat in front of Ace’s cot. Ace looked at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he was going to say. 

 

“Ace…”

 

It wasn’t, Ace felt, the most original opening to a conversation. There hung a cloud on Captain Maria’s face, as if he was struggling with something, and Ace wasn’t the type to interrupt people on a talkative day. Now especially, they were very careful about saying absolutely nothing, which very explicitly included earlier conversations they might have overheard. 

 

“I… I care a lot,” Maria began, “about the people on this ship. About my crew.” 

 

This wasn’t news, Ace thought. Literally anyone on the ship could have told them that. Ace had no idea where Maria was going with this and wasn’t going to say anything, to keep it from going in any specific direction. The captain scratched the back of his head. 

 

“And you’re under my protection now, Ace. I… I like to think I’m a good judge of character.”

 

He paused again. Ace appreciated the complete lack of questioning in the direction of “Did you hear what we were saying” and “Were you in the port walk earlier?” It was a relief, to be sure. But there are sayings about counting your chickens before they hatch for a reason (though, as is the case with most sayings, that reason is often so the person saying it can go “I told you so” later).

 

“We’re looking for something, Ace. My crew… they trust me. I’m just… I’m going to need your loyalty. I know you’ve risked your life for one of mine, but I need to hear you say it.”

 

Their loyalty? Ace had no idea what Maria was planning, but very rarely do trustworthy people request loyalty. On the other hand, Ace’s loyalty had never been considered a valuable resource before, and the thought of giving it to someone asking for it politely was appealing, if only because it was nice to be valued sometimes. They also considered the fact that words are, technically, cheap, and that they could just say yes now and then just change their mind later. They were certain this carried with it no negative repercussions. As I’ve stated earlier, Ace was nineteen and thus, by definition, quite stupid.

 

“Okay,” Ace said.

 

Maria coughed awkwardly. Ace felt like more might be required, but they weren’t going to cut their hand or something as dramatic as that. There was the kind of silence you wanted to fill with a cough, or even just a clearing of the throat. A ‘pregnant’ silence, someone might say, though I prefer not to because that sounds unpleasant.

 

“I need you to swear, Ace. I need your loyalty, that you’ll follow my command. Even when things get…”

 

Another pause, but this one was different. Captain Maria was looking for a word. Ace wondered what it was. Dangerous? Difficult? What would the captain ask of them? They couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the mermaid. Mermaids? It seemed like the captain assumed there were more of them. Were they hunting them for some reason? It was hard to know for sure.

 

“... even when things get weird.” Maria concluded. 

 

Well, not Ace’s first, second or third choices, but not the worst one, all things considered. Things had already taken a turn for the odd in Ace’s life, so a bit more weirdness they could handle. But promised loyalty? That was weird and new. Still, they felt like going “I don’t know, I’m uncomfortable with a commitment like that, could we go at this on a case-by-case basis” seemed like the bad move to make here. It seemed like saying no would involve a long walk off a short plank, followed by an uncomfortably long seven-day-swim back home. In the words of a wise man asked if he’d prefer to be shot or drowned: No, thank you. 

 

“I promise,” Ace said, and braced internally. They desperately hoped that this, at least, would be enough. Ace wasn’t very talkative and being forced to promise things was very much not their modus operandi. When Maria visibly relaxed, so did Ace. Then Maria stuck out their hand. Ace looked at it, as if they’d never been offered a handshake before. As mentioned earlier, Ace could be a little slow on the uptake sometimes.

 

“Shake on it, Ace,” Maria reminded them, as if the gesture was somehow alien. Ace shook the captain’s hand, whose grip was as soft as their skin. They wondered briefly how that happened. Sailor’s hands were notoriously rough, but Maria was a walking contradiction. The captain stood up and touched the brim of a nonexistent hat. 

 

“Thank you. It’s a relief to know we’re all on the same side.”

 

“Yeah,” Ace lied, because they had no idea what side they were on, what the sides were, and why the sides were in conflict to begin with. But if the sailors were well and truly planning to hunt the mermaids, then Ace was damn sure which side they weren’t on. There was the beginning of grim resolution beginning to form in their chest, which is the second symptom of caring: the desire to do things to ensure the things you care about keep existing so you can keep caring about them, an insidious but powerful thing. 

 

“I’ll be expecting you to be up and about tomorrow. The mast won’t climb itself, and our riggers are getting scared of falling off the mast without you to catch them.” Maria grinned at the little joke. Ace didn’t, which made Maria feel a little awkward, and the captain left the room with a kind of apologetic smile and Ace took a breath. That could have gone much worse. Instead it had gone… actually, Ace had no idea how it had gone. Something had happened and things had been said and once again they felt like they’d been shanghaied into being a part of a secret they didn’t know. It was like being winked at all over again, except this time they’d sworn their loyalty to a pirate who’d threatened someone from the town Ace had grown up in with a pistol. Their life had gotten somewhat confusing, but, looking out of the porthole over the ocean and its infinite possibilities, now was not the time to give up hope. They just had to hope that their decisions had been the right one, and that their choices wouldn’t lead to their inevitable doom in the cold depths of the ocean. 

 

They were wrong. Of course. The invisible timer that ticked down to Ace’s unfortunate end ticked on, and there wasn’t much time left on it at all.

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