Shana and I scrambled off the bed and began to dress quickly. “Have you been spying on us?” I muttered angrily to Anastasia’s disembodied voice.
“No,” she responded, a hint of her sass having returned in the intervening half hour or so since her punishment. “I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not just this avatar or my core crystal for that matter. Essentially I’m the whole ship and I’m peripherally aware of everything that happens within it.”
“Huhngh,” I grunted. “Okay, maybe you weren’t spying but you were watching, weren’t you Ana,” I teased, regaining my good humour.
Then from the corner of my eye I could swear that the dark crystal the bed was made from flickered an almost imperceptibly deeper black. Whoa, was that my imagination or did the ship just blush? It would seem my teasing hit an apropos mark.
“We’ll be with you momentarily. And Ana,” I called. “You better be wearing your marks.”
“Yes, Captain. I am,” Anastasia drawled.
As contradictory as it may sound, I could hear the eye-roll in her voice.
Her first round of punishment may have encouraged her to address me correctly but there was plenty more work to do on her general attitude.
This train of thought caused me to halt in my tracks and Shana passed me and stopped too. “Are you alright Torin?” She asked.
I was fine, physically.
I’d just been knocked off-kilter in my head. Thinking about adjusting Ana’s attitude after I’d effectively enslaved her made it crystal clear how much I’d changed.
When had I become so accepting of my new role and why didn’t that bother me more? Admittedly, I hadn’t planned on being cruel or to abuse my position of authority over Anastasia, nor Shana for that matter, but I was still a world away from the ethics of the modern era.
A shiver ran down my spine, doubts surfaced, and as quickly plunged back beneath the waters of my psyche. For a brief moment there was turmoil, a corner of my mind that fought, kicked, and screamed against the changes now it was acutely aware of them.
The battle had been underway quietly for some time but was now well and truly out of the shadows.
That corner declared loudly and proudly it would not be convinced by any argument, it was immovable and immutable. We were a decent human being and would stay that way, forever.
Up until that sliver was confronted with the reality that the Acheronian Corsair portions wouldn’t try to purge or argue with it. That it would simply be locked away, alone, unwanted, and most of all ignored. Left to wither in the dark recesses of the void.
At which point the human corner of my former self metaphorically looked around at its isolated position, didn’t care for what it saw and decided ‘fuck it, the modern world is dead and so are its precious ethics, I’m all in with you guys. Let’s fuck some shit up.’
I grinned like a Cheshire Cat. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Actually, I’m better than fine. I’m fan-fucking-tastic. You could say I almost feel like a new man.”
Shana grinned quizzically at my odd behaviour, and I took her arm in mine and led her out of the captain’s quarters and into the lower deck corridor.
I could have explained my internal battle of wills, but now that the outcome was decided I didn’t really see the point. Dean had been right again; I had quickly adjusted to being an Acheronian and a Dungeon Captain Corsair.
There were a few plumes of forgiveness thawing my discontent at the manipulative ass.
Plus, though he may have pushed me down this road, I was generally happy with where it had led. And Dean would be a valuable resource on my path to glory and power.
Perhaps it was time I returned the favour and used him to further my ends.
<That’s the spirit, Torin> Quixbix whispered.
Somehow, I knew instinctively that he had spoken only to me. You know I don’t like it when you pull that creepy mind-reading crap.
<As I’m sure you recall I’ve already told you, I can’t read your mind. I merely detected you relaxing through your body chemistry now that your internal conflict is resolved and further extrapolated where your direction of thought would have flowed as your blood was flooded by satisfaction endorphins> he explained and then continued.
<Anyway, now that you’ve pushed the broody morass of moral handwringing to the wayside, where it belongs. I have another quest for you, which may influence your decision on our destination.>
For the record, I may be more comfortable in my new skin, but I’ve not become a deplorable monster. There are still plenty of things I’m unwilling to do, I just won’t sweat the stuff I choose to do, I clarified for the imp.
<That’s all I ask for. And now for the quest> he responded.
The Corsair’s Canon 4 (K)
You have your ship, you even have the beginnings of a crew, what next? Every pirate needs a cove. A friendly port to call home or store their ill-got gains or drink, whore, and gamble. While any neutral venue will do for your run of the mill pirate, a Captain needs more. A cove that is unquestionably their own.
Success: Found or convert a coastal settlement into a Lawless Pirate Cove with you as the undisputed leader.
Rewards: 3,400 XP, and future The Corsair’s Canon quests and a new secondary quest chain.
Cuirass of the Bound.
Failure: If this quest goes incomplete the rest of this quest chain will remain locked and unavailable.
I’d somewhat expected a quest like this following my discussions with Quixbix earlier about qualifying acts of piracy.
The walk back up to the upper deck and to the Navigation hub was a short one and soon we were inside. Anastasia stood scowling at the central crystal table with a chart of Michigan displayed upon it. Jackson had been sitting in the corner and stood up when we entered, and I nodded to him.
“Captain,” Jackson nodded in return.
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“Captain,” Anastasia muttered impatiently after Jackson.
“At ease,” I joked, sort of, and motioned for Jackson to sit back down.
“So, did you have a destination in mind? ...sir,” Anastasia requested with a delayed honorific.
“I have a new quest to establish a cove for our piratical enterprise, a cove that I control. This necessitates the settlement being a port of some kind,” I related as we joined Anastasia at the central table.
“A pirate cove?” Anastasia queried. “Does this mean you want me to sail us to the sea? That can be done, to the Atlantic at least. The Grand River leads into Lake Michigan and then we can travel on through Lakes Huron, Erie, and Ontario and down the St. Lawrence River past Montreal and Quebec and then out into the ocean.”
Anastasia displayed the route on the map on the central table. “There are a bunch of canals connecting some of the lakes with locks that might be a bit tricky if the locks are no longer operating, but nothing I can’t circumnavigate with a bit of Dungeon energy.”
“Thank you for the suggestion, Ana. However, I was thinking of trying somewhere a bit closer to home first,” I said and then jabbed my finger on the map.
The place I pointed out was an island in the North of Lake Michigan, Beaver Island.
I’d been considering setting up shop in this area for the last few days and Quixbix quest had convinced me it was the correct course of action. The island was large and had been inhabited, unlike most of the smaller islands that made up the rest of the archipelago.
I knew a bit about the place as one of my college football teammates had invited a bunch of us to party with him there at the end of our freshmen year. I’d toyed with idea long enough to look the place up on the net, but then got a summer job, which I needed, and they insisted I be available during the same time frame.
Jackson hopped up from his seat and took up a position on an empty side of the table to see what we were looking at.
“Beaver Island,” I started to explain. “Would be a good place for us to look at as a possible place to establish my first cove.”
Anastasia helpfully magnified the map and zeroed in on the island. What we had before us was far more detailed than the paper maps I’d been studying and working from. Using my fingers on the crystal screen, which it only now twigged seemed to be a similar substance that the podiums were constructed from. I magnified the map further and moved the focus to the Northeast of the island which had a bay and a promontory shaped like a hook.
“As you can see, there is a small town here big enough to qualify as a hamlet if I’m not mistaken,” I stated.
<That is correct, Torin> Quixbix filled in.
“But apart from that the rest of the island, especially the Southern half, is almost uninhabited. Just a few isolated summer homes and two small airports for single prop planes. The population is likely to be higher than usual due to it being summer, but I’d estimate fewer than three thousand people even with a plethora of holidaymakers, on the whole island,” I laid out. “This is why I think this place will be perfect. It already has infrastructure we can make use of, but it’s still at least thirty-odd miles from the shore. The only places nearby are other islands with little or no signs of habitation. People can only get to us if they can traverse the lake, and I doubt there are many who will have the kind of transport we have,” I finished.
“Do you think seizing control of a place is the best idea?” Jackson queried my plan doubtfully. “There are only four of us. Maybe it would be easier to start a new community on one of these smaller islands,” he suggested, pointing to North Manitou Island which was a little further south.
“Maybe, but do you know how to do that? Because I don’t, but I’m willing to bet the requirements include having more than four people,” I argued back.
<It does> Quixbix confirmed, not that Jackson could hear him.
“Okay, I get that, but what about the people? They aren’t likely to just let you claim ownership of the town,” Jackson countered.
I addressed Anastasia instead. “Ana, how long will it take to get us to Beaver Island?”
“That depends on how much Dungeon energy you wish me to spend getting us there,” she explained. “If you want me to conserve it, then I need to sail slower, particularly in the river with its shallows and turns. The more I have to intervene unnaturally the more it costs.”
“Okay, assume maximum conservation, how long?” I pressed.
“Fourteen hours, give or take. We’d get there a couple of hours after dawn if we left now,” Anastasia said.
“Excellent, I wouldn’t want to approach in the dark anyway. Set the course and get us under way,” I ordered.
Anastasia nodded and then we all felt a slight shift as we started to move, but it was barely noticeable, enough to make it clear we were in motion, but it lacked the usual rocking that usually accompanied being on a boat.
“Ummm,” Jackson mumbled. “You didn’t say anything about the people.”
“No, I didn’t. It shouldn’t matter, Jackson. If they are in our way then they will either capitulate or we make them,” I said firmly.
Shana nodded her acceptance, but Jackson looked a little green and not from motion sickness.
“But if you want the cold hard truth, Jackson. I seriously doubt we are going to meet much, if any, resistance from the populace, because I have my doubts that there are many people left alive on Beaver Island to resist,” I informed him.
“What do you mean?” Jackson gulped.
“I mean it is literally miles from any kind of significant population, apart from what is on the island itself. There are going to be many spawning crystals and therefore monsters all over those islands. That is what we need to be concerned about,” I warned him.
“Torin is right,” Shana added. “We came across a number of homes that had been invaded and torn apart on the way here, even near Flint. Do you not recall that Kelly and Tommy suspected some of your friends had already been killed by spawned mobs?”
“And things were getting worse with each day that passed. With another day until we get to the island any survivors will be in hiding or will have fled in whatever non-motorised boats they had access to,” she finished.
“I guess you’re right,” Jackson conceded.
“We are, but that isn’t the point I’m making, Jackson,” I said, taking up the baton. “It’s them or us, and I’m backing us in a big way. The glue that holds society together is being stretched to breaking point and we aren’t waiting for everything to turn to shit before we act.”
Jackson stared at the floor sullenly but didn’t argue or contradict me.