A Pound in a Gasket

It’s there. Just beyond her filthy reach. She could feel it. Burning, all the nerve endings on the tips of her fingers tingling with little pinpricks of heat. She leaned forward into them, her eyes widening. Everything leads to this. Everything points to this. A familiar voice broke her tunnel vision.

“You’re insane.” 

“I am not. Everyone knows of it! EVERYONE.”

“Yeah, knows of the fable. It’s not real. A fairytale.”

Her face crumpled with frustration, but not defeat. Shai pushed herself off the table, the map almost flying off from the outburst. “Fuck you. It’s real. The places, the clues, everything in the poem. Real as the fuckin' sun. Whatever happened to our plan?” She cast daggers at her brother. Troq almost choked on his drink from trying to stifle a laugh. “Plan? That was just a game we played as kids.” He took another sip, eyeing her, knowing how fiery she could get when upset. He could feel her smoldering already. He continued, “It’s something we did to escape. You know how hard it was at first, losing Ma. Going out there on our own.” The mention of Ma seemed to soften her a bit. He could see it in her eyes, the fiery intensity washed out by the soft waves of gentle memories. For an instant, her garden-green eyes were glassy pools and she was still. Her expression seemed almost lost for a moment, but he blinked and that moment was gone. She was back to being on fire, determined as ever.

“We’re going. I’m certain it’s there, and I’m certain if we wait any longer someone else will find it. You’re my first mate, and you have to do as I say.” 

“You mean I’m your brother and I have to do as you say.”

“Either way you put it, it’s true.”

She smirked in that devilish way when she knew she won an argument, as older siblings tend to do. When they first took Ma’s ship out after she died, they both decided that Shai would be the captain due to her being the eldest. Ma had already taught her lots about the ship. The three of them had never gone far from home, mostly just going to Bigaath Bay when the fish returned in the spring. Money was good then. Memories were good then. 

“Eyyy! Another round!” A deep voice thick with liquid rose from the seat next to Shai, accompanied by a burly arm that flung in the air, knocking her forward. This time the map did fly off the table, and about half the crew’s drinks with it. “Ah, fuck! Montro! That was full!” As Troq collected the map, the rest of the crew scrambled to rescue their now mostly empty mugs. Shai eyed Troq’s haste, noting that he was careful to snatch it off the floor before anyone noticed or it got soiled with beer and dirt. As the beermaid indolently placed a new mug in front of each crew member, Shai slowly reclined back into her seat, the smirk returning with an air of inquisitiveness. “Montro, you’ve had too much already,” she mused without even looking at him. She was studying her brother and the beads of sweat that now lined his dark, wispy hairline. Montro jested. “Aw, piss off, Captain, I just got a wee bit excited. You know it’s been a while since we’ve had a proper warm meal!” His mouth moved in the same sloppy way his arm did. Shai cast an amused glance to her left, but Montro's eyes weren’t focusing. 

“Piss off? Of my own boat?! Some nerve!” Shai’s pointy canines gleamed in the dim golden light of the pub. She loved the banter. Her tiny crew was the stereotypical image of a ramshackle bunch of nobodies who were fated to a miserable life of begging on land if The Seahorse hadn’t descended from heaven's parting clouds to whisk them away. In these parts, the sea and heaven were synonymous. If you were living a blessed life, it could steal everything from you, either by way of pirates pillaging or drowning in its depths; if you were given a life of hell, it was a ticket to escape to a better life, which is what each crew member decided to gamble on. Six in total, there was Gorty from Cleaver Bay, a sheepish man who had more heart than guts, but he’s working on it; Jip from Lonely Point, an orphan and a runaway probably around the age of sixteen, but no one knows for sure, not even him; Yuie, who was from a far-away island that she hasn’t told anyone the name of, but they picked her up in Contigra; Montro from some big city inland, who was as bone-headed as he was burly, and he was as big as three men; and of course, Shai and Troq, the siblings who set out from Ricovo with nothing to lose and started this hellraising crew by accident. Lucky for Shai, the combination of her wit, smarts, guts, and heart wove a set of character traits fit for your average antihero, and that resulted in these lost souls willing to follow her into oblivion. At least, they had so far. Oblivion was where their old paths were headed anyway. 

As the rest of the crew was lost in their own conversations and laughs while filling up their bellies, Troq fiddled with the corner of the map, a dark mask of concern over his serious eyes. “Look, Shai, the Elfod Treasure was relevant when we were just floating aimlessly and needed something to keep us going. But we’re not that anymore. We have a crew. We need to stay low. We need to-” 

Shai cut him off. “Eat! Drink! Survive! And in order to have our needs met while we stay out of sight of the Fleet, we get the treasure! And then we’ll be set for life! Do you hear me? LIFE!” Shai was also a bit buzzed at this point. She was animated, frantic almost, and the other bar patrons were starting to raise their scruffy eyebrows and jab thumbs in her direction. Montro was a typical sight in a bar like this, but a lady pirate with a hair color that matched her blazing spirit was much more arresting, even though lady pirates weren't as rare as they used to be. Troq rolled his eyes as he dropped his chin in his hand. The crew knew of her fascination with treasure, especially this one in particular, and collectively they had about as much to lose as a pound in a gasket. He knew there was no use arguing anymore, and Shai always recognized when her stubborn ass ways beat out her brother's pragmatic protests, even if they were more on the safe side. Hell, especially when they were more on the safe side. They were pirates. What kind of idiot-eyed pirate plays it safe? “Morning comes quick, and I’m itching to greet it. Let's go.” Shai’s stool tumbled over as she rose, tossed a handful of change that wasn’t near covering the bill on the table, and confidently strode out of the bar, broad shoulders jerking as she hiccuped every few steps.