Distant Star - Log 01 - When Space Meets Sea

Distant Star – Log 1 – When Space meets Sea

Jack swayed, nearly vomiting, and held the acid down with an effort, a wave of rippling discomfort rolled through him, followed by the familiar itching. He felt The Round Coin slow to a stop in his palm and opened his eyes. Staring out through the glass windows of the Observation deck he caught sight of the rolling ocean. He heard The Good Ship Ptarmigan shudder and spit, it's tethers slapping against the waves before the ship lifted up to a higher altitude, staying as clear as it could of the damaging salt in the spray. Jack took a breath. Blast, where had the damp trinket taken him this time? This is why he had vowed not to use it...and yet...he always did, sooner or later. "Good Ship, what can you tell me?" There was a pause, and then in a reverberating voice, as if echoing through copper pipes, a feminine, wispy voice replied, "We are no longer in familiar leagues of the Aether, Jonothan. We believe we may have passed through the Films, again." Jack stood at the railing, staring out at the endless expanses of water and hunched into his shoulders, stuffing both hands into his pockets and placing the Round Coin away. "Blast." was all he said.

On the Horizon, Storm Seed and its fleet of twelve Shadows were slowly making their way across the northern latitudes. The weather was beautiful and the Seed’s Shaper had done a marvelous job of aligning them with the currents. Sleek bodies of marine mammals flicked along the double keel of Viira’s ship, toying with the raging waters between the two hulls. At first glance it appeared to be a stately procession of grand vessels, with the Korinthian City Ship dwarfing its comrades but the outward tranquility by no means reflected the uproar on the Bridge. “Captain! Something’s… uh, just appeared on the horizon. It’s foreign and flies no recognizable banners.” The soul who’d spotted The Good Ship Ptarmigan pointed off towards where Jack’s ship was a rather sizeable silhouette. “Hmn?” Viira blinked, kicking her chair around to look out at the horizon, frowning. Unmarked vessels tended to be pirates of some sort and she was in no mood for an attack. They were fools, anyway, if they planned to challenge Storm Seed. “Bearing?”

“South by southwest, twenty knots. The unknown appears to be stationary,” Merkesh replied easily, coming over to stand by her chair, “Should we investigate?”

She waved a gloved hand at the man with the viewing scope and took it so she might peer herself and was greeted with the glint of metal in sunlight. “Ah… Do we know if any of the kingdoms have metallic ships?”

“Negative, Captain.” The Storm Seed’s chief Bard spoke then, frowning, “Why? What do you see?”

“Metal. And a form I’m not at all familiar with.” She set the viewer down abruptly and glanced at Merkesh then the crew, having noticed a gap between the ocean’s swell and the ship’s keel, “Prepare a scout vessel, I want a report asap but do not engage in combat. Keep a distance and try to establish communications if you can.” A chorus of affirmation sounded as men scrambled to do as ordered and a few minutes later one of the Shadows peeled off from the main convoy and raced across the waves towards the alien vessel. Who, or what, had the ability to levitate ships? Let alone manufacture one of metal. The seas were the Korinthians’ territory and none of them made such extensive use of those materials.

"Jonothan," came the Ptarmigan's echoing voice. "A ship is approaching from the north. Shall we do anything about it?" Jack turned slowly, and after a moment strode in his bow-legged gait to the massive telescope that was mounted through the glass ceiling of the Observation chamber. He spun the wheels and angled it to view the north, sliding back the magnifiers that would have him staring out into space. A small craft, no weapons pointed at him that he could tell. Still, the thing was simply sailing towards him. An ocean ship. He hadn't seen one of those in months. It had been a long time since he'd taken the Ptarmigan down to Enteria. "You know, I think we should," Jack replied languidly. "I'm going to go say hallo." He watched a moment more, then stood up from the chair, stretching out his back briefly until an audible crick sounded and then loped across the Observation Deck, up the stairs and into the upper hall. He took to a rung-ladder set into the wall and climbed up onto a landing, and from there, opened a threshold leading onto one of the ships many balconies. He stood there, directly beneath the Good Ship Ptarmigan's high Turret and snapped open his spyglass. The ship was considerably closer now. He lifted a fingerless-gloved hand and waved. They couldn't hear him yet, but he could make out crew on the boat as it drew nearer.

The Shadow drew up alongside the vessel and the crew was quite obviously stunned, no one was quite sure what to make of this levitating metal mammoth and flickered light signals back to the Storm Seed, sounding a brief report before the mirrors were turned on the other vessel. A brief, clipped series of signals were flashed but the Shadow didn't draw any closer. Even without orders, the crew was disinclined to get too close. One of the men in the rigging, however, grew bold once he saw someone step out onto a deck and waved in turn, shouting a greeting as he hung from lines with the comfort of a fish in water. "Ahoy! From what land do you hail from!?" Shouting followed on deck as the sailors tried to shush the man but he waved them off. They were supposed to make contact, right? He was making contact!

Jack watched the ship with interest, observing their flashing mirrors with a passive amusement. Then one of the men - and he was relieved to find that they were indeed men, Hovarthians, by the look of them - swung about in the rigging and hailed him. He cupped his hands to his ears, trying to hear the man above the rush of the waves and the hum of the Ptarmigan's chambers. He made out the words without too much difficulty, in the end and cupping his hands about his mouth in turn hollered back: "We come from the Aether Territories of Terrene! We went through a bit of a nasty storm! My instruments are still recalibrating! Tell me, where are we now?"

Silence met him as the man's jaw worked, unable to fathom where that might be. He tried again, however, assuming he'd misheard, "Say again!? There's been no squalls in these waters for a fortnight! You're a week's journey off the south shores of the Kingdom of Gilvaen!" He frowned. The man and his crew must be pretty muddled not to know where they were. From her seat, Viira watched the exchange through her viewer with interest, wondering what was being said. The report had confirmed what she thought had been a trick of the eye and now only a single man had come out to greet the scouting ship. "Inform the Shaper that I want our speed doubled and order the Shadows to form defensive ranks about Storm Seed, Guardships at the front. Has the Oracle said anything yet?"

"No reports have come in, Cap'n. This was entirely unexpected." Her First Officer replied with a sour look, "I've never seen anything like it."

"Neither have I. That's what bothers me." She murmured, flicking a glance at Merkesh. Hopefully whoever was on that vessel was neutral and or friendly.

"The Aether Territories of the Empire of Sphera of Terrene!!" Jack bellowed back. Perhaps the man's hearing was not as keen as his own. "Kingdom of Gilvaen?" He asked, becoming a tad more confused. "Have the Hovarthians finally united under a King, then?" He hollared, leaning over the railing. And then, over his shoulder he said to the ship, "Good Ptarmigan, a few feet lower if you please, I think we're having difficulties in hearing each other." The ship's humming vibrated at a slightly higher pitch and the ship lowered steadily and then stopped suddenly, now a mere ten feet above the waves.

The sailor gawked as the ship buzzed and then lowered itself, swallowing as he wondered at it. Thankfully that was the Captain's job - this whole assessing the threat kind of thing. The man hadn't attacked but... his ship was certainly something of a marvel. "What're you going on about? I'm no... Hoverian!" He waved madly, quite offended to be called something other then what he was and puffed up his chest, "We Shadow the Korinthian City Ship Storm Seed and you sail in our Territories!" He broke into a fit of coughing and spent a perilous moment doubled over, unused to such bellowing. Clearing his throat at last, he gestured at the spare boat that Shadow carried on her, "Do you have a rowboat!? I can barely hear you! Your, uh, ship's too loud!!"

'Korinthian', 'Storm Seed' and 'Rowboat' were all quite foreign to Jack. He paused a moment, and then, soundly under his breath cursed, "Mystic's blood, that damned Round Coin has done it this time." He took a deep breath and pushed a boney hand through his hair. "Rowboat...rowboat... Ah!! A Skiff, you mean? I'll take to the Tethers, be back with you in a wink!!" He hollered, his throat burning, and his skin crawling from the effort of healing the raw tissue. He was more than happy to quit with the screaming match. He ducked back in through the portal and scrambled back down the ladder, a few loping bounds down the hall and to the main stairwell which he took three stairs at a time. "Jonothan, shall we go into guard?" The Ptarmigan asked mildly. "If you'd like," Jack huffed hoarsely at it. "You're a clever girl, Keep yer senses pricked, right, and act accordingly." The ship hummed in response but remained silent. Jack by this time had made it into the Second Tier of the Brig and had leapt into the rusty skiff hanging from the ropes. He cranked the levers and the keel opened up a panel to allow the skiff unmolested passage from the Ptarmigan. He double rapped his knuckles on the paneling of the opened trap and the gears began turning of their own accord, gently lowering the swinging skiff into the ocean air and when a safe distance from the ship, he unhooked the ropes and the little boat hung in mid-air, a glittering aura faintly visible in the air around it, as if it floated on heat waves. A bulbous, ungainly thing, it boasted two fish-like fins on the sides to steer port and starboard, and a central folding main sail mounted towards the back of the boat, a set of levers controlling the angle on all three. Jack sat down at the small helm of the skiff and propelled it forward with a shudder and a cough of a glittering golden dust blasting out of the back of the hull. He cursed soundly again and maneuvered the boat forward towards the waiting Shadow. "Empress' Morrow to you, sir." Jack greeted the man in the rigging affably. "Might we convene somewhere more hospitable, if your crew would be so accommodating... The Aether lines are weak here, and I fear I can't keep my Skiff aloft long. If I might review your charts so that I can plot my course, I would not be ungrateful..."

The man backed up as Jack approached in a flying rowboat with no oars, eyes wide, and he pointed at the thing, clearly taken aback, "By the Great Mother's Breath what is /that/?" Below, the men had been able to watch the Skiff's approach and were equally stunned, though one managed to keep enough wits to flash a brief, if nonsensical, message back to the Storm Seed. Which was just as well, Viira had seen the Skiff approach and hover before her Shadow and with the convoy looming up just out of cannon's range, the creaking of timbre and snap of sails a comforting sound to the men on the Shadow. A great gust drove through the area then, the Shaper's work, and jostled the men back into action as swells rose, broke, and washed white froth across the deck. "Aaah... That's not up to me. You'll have to put the request in with the Cap'n." He waved at the men below and moved his hands in a blur of signs that the other nodded to, followed by a quick succession of mirror flashes.

"... He wants to review our charts?" Viira repeated, confused. A man with a flying ship and a flying rowboat, who appeared out of nowhere, wanted to see their charts? She sighed, "Please tell me I won't regret this. The day's strange enough as it is. Put a guard on whatever that is and bring him in. I want to talk to him." Rubbing her forehead, she rose and gave command over to Merkesh as she headed for the stairs that would lead down into the Lower Docks. A message was sent in reply and quickly passed along to the man in the rigging.

He grinned, "Captain Viira will see you now. Come aboard but don't try anything fancy." Dropping into a swing, he was through and on the deck in a few heartbeats, long limbs and agile frame moving easily amongst the rigging. "D'you have a name, by the way?"

"Ah." Jack replied, clearly disappointed. "Your 'cap'n' must be in the massive hulk of ship, then, eh?" He replied, glancing through his spyglass at the massive ship in the distance. He waited in silence as a series of mirror flashing began from the Shadow to the mothership, and after a moment, replied in kind. He knew of such signals, but not the code these two were using. He could only assume the translation of the crew member was the truth, afterall, the world had not slipped into greys. "Come aboard..." Jack repeated dumbly. After a moment, he pulled a stopper at the helm of the skiff and in a hushed tone murmured to the skiff. "Back to the Ptarmigan, now. I'll signal when I need you." He leapt out of the skiff towards the Shadow's sails, aiming completely clear of the rigging, not wanting to get tangled up in unfamiliar ropes. He went flailing through midair, seemingly on a collision course with the mast, but at the last moment, slapped out his hands, sliding the length of the nearest sail, kicking off the cross beam of the mast and falling to the deck into a tucked roll, only to spring up onto his feet again as if nothing had happened. He tapped one boot against the wooden planks of the deck and made a grunt of sound under his breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Wood, is it? You lot terribly wealthy then?" He asked over his shoulder to the man who had greeted him. And turning, he added with a characteristic shrug, "Most call me Black Jack Finnegan, gent. And yer jots or titles?"

The crew scrambled as the man flung himself into the air and missed the rigging, a few even running to spread a spare sail patch in the hopes of catching the mad man. Was he trying to kill himself!? The one who'd been in the rigging only whistled lowly when Black Jack hit the deck and stood, shaking his head in disbelief, "You're either mad or a thrill seeker, or both." Stepping forward, he blinked at the unexpected question then looked at Jack sideways, "And... what else are we supposed to build out of? We ain't got no metal monstrosities like your floating ship there, friend. Serpent's Bone and the like are for other things." Shaking his head in disbelief, he really wasn't too sure what to think of this stranger. "Well met, I think. I'm Commander Kolthas." Touching his shoulder knot, he arched a brow at Jack, "Maybe Captain Viira can sort you out..." With that, he turned away and the Shadow arched back towards the Storm Seed, heading straight for the line formation of guard ships.

As they drew nearer, the guards made way and allowed the small vessel through to tie up on the Lower Docks, a series of tiered platforms built into the side of the city ship that allowed the smaller ships to dock for supply and crew exchanges. When they arrived, a line was cast and the ship quickly moored, "This way." Walking out along gangplanks suspended several feet above the water, Kolthas looked up at the majesty that was his home. It towered over them and inspired confidence in the returning Shadow crew. Hitting the ladder that brought them up a level soon deposited them in an open area encrusted with salt from countless waves, on which stood a small gathering of people in fine dress and serious expressions. One, a girl of less then twenty, stood beside an older woman and her eyes were blue as the ocean depths, gaze both focused and distant at the same time. The other woman, however, had a far sharper gaze that fixed on the newcomer as soon as he appeared. "I hear you're lost, sailor." She arched a brow, the quirk of her lips amused despite the seriousness in her gaze.

"Commander..." Jack muttered to himself, shaking his head. This better not be a military vessel, all salutes and yes'ms... He made a sour face and slouched back into his hips, his legs bowing beneath him as the ship lurched across the waves, jostling and slapping. "S'like riding through a debris field, ain't it?" He asked of no one in particular, his stormy grey eyes fixed on the approaching bulk of the Storm Seed. He followed along with the ladders and docks, glancing around, keeping close track of his path through this massive ship. It had been very long indeed - some two-hundred years - since he'd last been on a ship this big, mind you it had been in the depths of aether, and he had been young and foolish then, in the military himself... He sighed deeply and came out on the dock where a gathering awaited him. They certainly looked military. His shoulders and hopes sagged. His glance flitted over each of the faces gathered and finally settled on the woman who addressed him. "Captain Viira, I presume..." He murmured, nodding his head to her. "Lost is a bit strong, off-course is more like it. I need to recalibrate my navigation instruments. They got a bit scrambled from the film-storm, you understand. I'll be out o' yer hair as soon as 'm able."

"No, I think lost suits perfectly well." She replied, stepping forward to greet him, "The likes of your ship hasn't been seen before. Where are you from? And what, praytell, is a film-storm?" She pursed her lips, noting his discomfort, and chuckled, guessing at the cause. She chuckled, "Relax. This is no gunship extraordinaire, stranger. You stand aboard my Storm Seed - I presume the Commander's given you some information already? Come. Let's speak in more comfortable quarters. We have much to talk about." She dismissed all but the Shaper and two of her Commanders then gestured for Jack walk beside her. Reflexively she walked on with him on the opposite side of the ruined side of her face, strolling at a nonchalant pace as she left the silence for Jack to fill.

Jack blinked at her when she told him to relax. "If I were any more relaxed, I'd be dead." He replied in a grunt. "As I told yer...uh, yer Commander, I'm a citizen of the Spheran Empire, of Terrene. And if you aren't Hovarthians, then that leaves me to conclude I've left Terrene far behind." He sighed, and shrugged again, hands still in his pockets. "A Film-storm. Some people don't believe in 'em, where I'm from. But I've been through 'em a few times now, and I can't help but have faith in that which tries to kill me." He rocked on his feet, and then fell into stride with her, an ungainly gait, but not dissimilar to her own sailor's bow-legged gaits. "As much as I can sum it up, a Film-storm's like... electricity where the seams of the universes meet. There ain't much learnin' on 'em, that I know of." He fell silent then, waiting for her to arrive at the 'comfortable quarters' she mentioned, and hoping vaguely that they didn't involve a brig cell.

Her pace slowed a little as Jack explained Film-storms then stopped complete and gave him a funny look, "Now, while I don't claim knowledge of all things mystic, I find it difficult to believe what you're saying, I'm afraid. I don't know about you but there are no universes seams here. There is no Spheran Empire on the Continent, and unless the Emperor of Ni'hilr has finally gone insane, I doubt there will be." She smiled, "I agree, You're no where near this Terrene." They turned a corner that opened up onto a vast open space of greenery all grown in table-top gardens as deep as her waist. Those they passed saluted her and a moment later they were climbing a ramp up into the living corridors where more and more people of all ages bustled. It had the feel of a city despite the wooden walls and gently swaying lanterns that dotted the wide passages. Eventually the stepped out in the Commons - a cut out in the decks three levels deep and covered in an outdoor garden complete with a saltwater pond full of decorative fish. "Come." She murmured, gesturing for him to follow her as they ducked into a room on the lowest level of the Commons. She stopped before the broad windows, hands at her sides and waited for everyone to settle before taking her own seat. However, she didn't sit in it properly and turned it backwards so she could lean against the backrest as she watched Jack with a look of curiosity, "Tell me how you get your ship to levitate."

"That proves it then, don't it?" Jack replied, halting with her and giving her a hooded stare. "If there ain't the Spheran Empire here, than It's wherever I'm from, yeah? And from my experience - and no disrespect, ma'am, but it's more'n yours - anywhere there's a world, there's a universe, and anywhere there's a universe, there's a place it folds up - the Film." Jack shrugged again. "But my goal here ain't to educate anyone. I'm no scholar or sage, and I'd prolly get it mostly wrong if I did try, anyway, or so the Mystics would say..." He trailed off with a grunt and shrug, and barely managed to stop himself from spitting. He followed again, eyeing the gardens and fish pond with open interest. Finally, they arrived in the "comfortable quarters" and the Captain sat down. Though he wasn't invited to, Jack scuttled to a stool closer to him by hooking a boot toe around it and collapsed onto it in the same moment it landed beneath the place his rump was aiming for. His posture looked like that of an insolent boy, boots rocking on their toes, knees bent around the legs of the stool, both hands braced over the edge on the seat between his legs, shoulders hunched, neck jutted forward like a vulture. The question came then, and at first Jack didn't answer. He looked hard at the captain's face, then turned and arched a brow at the other elect few she'd chosen to bring along. "Whot?" He answered, snorted and then let out a wheezing chortle of a laugh. "You lot really ain't got Air Ships, nor Aether Ships, and naught?" He chortled again and shook his head, eyebrows pinched into a twisted line of disbelief. "Whot a sloppy lot this is, Jack m'boy... 'Tis the end of that thing, now, swear it!"

Her expression soured at that laughter and she sat up straighter, "Are you implying my ship is somehow lacking, good sir? There are no 'air ships' or 'aether ships'. We Korinthians rule the seas and I can say with some authority there are no levitating ships either. What magic do you use? Is it a Shaper? Or some cursed Landborne Mage?" She'd pursed her lips, at a loss as to what to make of this Black Jack. "I'm not interested in having you insult my ship or my crew, Jack..." There was an edge to her voice as she took offense to his words, the feeling that he was totally unconcerned with things hard to ignore. "I ask again. How do you get your ship to levitate - and stop with the nonsense of Universes and non-existent empires." She had half a mind to label him insane, and let out an exasperated sigh.

Jack fell silent, casting her a sly, side-long glance. "You don't need magic to make a ship float, ma'am. Unless you consider the works of science and alchemy a magic, which I don't. The Mystics have arts of the world, and of the Aether Dust, and that you need to make a Gravitation Core and Levy Sphere, and a Levitation Core." He paused and shrugged elaborately before settling again. "Sea ships ain't lacking - 'cept in them parts just listed." Jack replied soberly. "We got sea ships too, on Terrene, mark me. And they do a mighty fine job when it comes to waters. Air ships take the land and skies, and Aether leaves the planet behind." He paused at that and scratched at his cheek. "You want me to say nothing about universes and worlds, Cap'n then you'll not be getting the answers to the questions you're puttin t'me, because the one comes with the other." He didn't apologize, but from the tone of his voice, it was clear he was surprised at the offense they'd taken. Honestly, taking offense about something they knew nothing about! He had a mind to consider them lucky that they didn't have galavanters floating about the bloody planet, but he didn't think they'd take kindly to his sentiments, so he kept them to himself. It was half-relieving and half-infuriating that they had no idea who he was. Sorta nice to not be instantly attacked for the voicing of his name, but also disappointing no one was slack-jawed with awe and fear. "I've given no insult, that I can see, but I'm half-inclined to take your slander to my Empire as such. There ain't no need for this to get ugly, unless we got a previous score to settle, and on my slates, there are none. I give you answers, that's my lot. You decide whot you wan' do with 'em." His posture was still as hunched as before, but his fidgeting has stopped and he was rigidly coiled where he sat, making ready for what was to come.

Her face pinched into an expression of concentration as she tried to understand what he was talking about. After a moment she drummed her fingers against the side of her face, "You're meaning to say you are truly not from here? And by here, I mean neither the Oceans nor the Continent? And you use magics and strange alchemy to keep your shift aloft, beyond the world?" She smoothed her hair back and she eyed him, "And this Terrene is in another... world? Apologies, sailor, but there's nothing like that in this world. There are whispers of great alchemists and mad theorists on the continent but I do not think they would consider you friend or ally. Your ship, your very presence, is an enigma." She stopped then and glanced at her companions, "Leave us. Tell Merkesh I want the fleet kept far from prying eyes. If you can, lash the flying ship to Storm Seed to keep her near as we move." Her gaze flicked to Jack then, one brow arched, "I can assure you, stranger, that you don't want to go near the continent right now... not with those stories and that ship." She tilted her head for a moment, hair tumbling away to reveal the burns that marred her face once the room had been vacated, "You speak in words that might as well be riddles, my friend. I'm afraid you find yourself amongst a people that knows only the bounty and the fickle moods of the sea, not one that aspires to leaving the world in metal boats. I do not want trouble either, be it among my crew or with the continent itself. I was told you wished to see our charts? If I give you access to resources, how long will it be before you are gone?" She paused then, smiling, "Of course, I expect a trade of information in return. Information I can use, mind you, not tales of parts unknown."

Jack somehow produced a flask from one pant pocket that could not possibly have fit in his pants and tipped it to her in salute and agreement and took a drink. He sat there, licking his lips as the other people left the room until it was just him and the Captain. "I have no intention of stayin' Cap'n. As I had no intention of comin' in the first place. The Aether Tides took me here, and I guarantee the Great Leveller will hold it against me when I get home. He doesn't take kindly to this sort of thing - whether it was my will or no." Jack paused and listened as she spoke again. "Charts yeah," Jack replied offering the flask across to her. "I just need to recalibrate my Navigation Core so she knows which way to thrust. As fer how long...." Jack chewed at a thumb nail and squinted towards the ceiling. "I'd have to check m'Levy Sphere. I'm not sure how much Aether the ship burned in coming here. If I have enough, I can leave right away, if not... I'm gonna have to recharge 'em." He paused, then shrugging, took a leap. "If the Round Coin brought me here, there's a source of Leyline that's powerful enough to break the Film, if I can find it, I should be good for a trip back." He sat back, rocking the stool onto its back legs precariously. "Well, information I've got, but I dunno how it'll help you when you can't exactly use it."

With that settled, she relaxed some, and gave one final comment, "I do warn you, however, cause trouble and I will not hesitate to have you keel-hauled. Now. I find it hard to believe you’re from a place beyond the stars. What's it like?" She eyed his flask then took and sniffed it, "What's this?" Viira blinked at a term she was all too familiar with, "Leyline? As in... paths of power flowing from one node to the next?" She was all ears at that, flask forgotten as she congratulated herself on not being totally uneducated in extra-world things. "There are Leylines everywhere here... most aren't very powerful and most intersect on the Continent, however. I think we have charts of the Leylines' last know locations somewhere in the Vaults. They tend to shift around, frustrates the Shapers to no end." She huffed and took a swig of the flask before she realized what she was doing and coughed on the liquid. Clearing her throat, she rasped a reply, "Knowledge is a powerful tool, surely that's something you know. Concepts, actions... things we can use. I'm certain you have a few we might be able to make use of." Finally recovering, she smiled. It was a bright one and her eyes flashed with intelligence, "Besides, I love a good challenge."

Jack tilted the flask as if looking into it. "Uhhh...something my ship makes, I guess. It's a bit sweet, but tasty." He offered it again, a bit unconsciously. He slapped a hand against his knee, finally they were getting somewhere! "Yes! Leylines, exactl-- Wait, whot? You have Leylines in the -planet-??" He asked, aghast. "How does the bloody rock not explode?" He looked down at the deck a little mistrustfully. "No mystic wonder the cursed Round Coin brought me here...." He puffed up his cheeks and shook his head. "I can confidently say, you show me them Leyline charts, and I'll be gone fast as you can blink. I'm only hopin' the Good Ship Ptarmigan can handle that much locked power." He shook his head again and the stool wobbled precariously on it's teetering back legs. "Leylines, they tend to shift, yeah, but there's a science to it. I have instruments on board that track that sort o' thing. It's too cursed dangerous to sail an Aether Ship blind o' that knowledge." He watched her with a hooded glance again and swigged from the flask again, before offering it back to her for another drink. "My concepts, my actions, they aren't none too popular back home, ma'am..." He paused and visibly rethought that sentence. "Er, or maybe too popular to the wrong people? I got m'Mark of Eight coz of the stuff I act on. Fair warning, I think, before you go askin' Black Jack's accursed knowledge."

"Ah, yes? The stronger ones tend to make their homes within the ground and their presence suffuses the area with magic and energy... at least that's how I understand it. Our Shaper knows more, she follows their trails." She pursed her lips, confused, "'Less you can predict the whim of a Leyline, I doubt there's a science to it. They're notoriously hard to track down..." She shrugged, "I'll let you in on something, since you're not from around here. The Korinth have no home on the Continent for a reason. We're not too popular excep twith our own people. A treasure hunter, a pirate, a trader, whatever... I've seen, dealt with, and dined with all sorts. Everyone's got a reason and the popular opinion isn't always the right one. What's a Mark of Eight?" She asked, caught again on an unfamiliar term.

"Ah, not that hard..." Jack grinned. "I can't give it to yah, but I've still got the blueprints 'round on the ship somewhere, if you want the plans to my Levy Sphere? It might help you folk with the tracking down of Leylines? Is that fair trade?" He listened nonchalantly as she voiced their unpopularity and waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not too popular with at least two different races on Terrene, and often climbing under the Ol' Leveller's skin. I know what it's like to have to fight for the right o' some space to breathe in, to run when the enemy points too many guns, and to hide when they've got a mind to find you where you don't wanna be found. Some things ain't too different, i tell ya." He shrugged and let the stool settle on all four legs again. "Mn? Oh, I take it, you ain't an aura reader? A Mark o' Eight is this..." He untied the black ribbon around his throat and unfolded the two halves of the cream linen that covered his chest and torso. There, swirling and pulsing in his flesh like a hellish light was a mass of black like a hole in the fabric of the man before her. In the centre of the mess of it was a steady, albeit pulsing, figure-eight.

“Blueprints would be fair," She nodded, "If, along with that, how to make the parts was also included in the deal. If you're breathing the same air and speaking the same language, I think the base components are similar as well." She leaned forward when he spoke of aura readers and shook her head, "No. I don't have a lick of the mystic about me. I'm good with a sword and ship, but that's about it." Viira replied, though her words were cut short when Jack revealed his mark, "Oh! That's.... ah... does it hurt? It looks like it has to." She curled her lip in a look of macabre fascination, tilting the chair forward enough that she might reach out. "Somebody did that to you?" Shaking her head, the Captain sighed, "That's an ugly mark, friend." There was no insult in her words, however, just more of a naive sort of sympathy for something she didn't understand. Brands she understood well enough, burns too, and even the searing of magic cast but that was something different. "I bet there's a story or twelve behind that one." Viira settled back then, the legs of the chair clunking against the wood of the floor, "I suppose I should formerly welcome you aboard. Are you alone, or is there crew on your ship?" She wondered if that was something they'd need to worry about. One man she could allow safe passage for but welcome an entirely alien crew would neither be wise nor appreciated.

Jack made a thoughtful face. "I don't know how helpful my notes will be. I'm no mechanic or inventor. I can try, but I think the man who can best help you with that is one I have no command over, and I doubt you could match his pay." Jack let go of his shirt, but the flickering mark was still visible through the folds. "Aye, it hurts. With every breath and every minute of life." He replied, his voice low and with a queer tone to it. He blinked and nodded. "The Great Leveller did it to me, punishment for the lives sacrificed during the First Galaxy War." He sighed and shook his head. "I was young and stupid then, can honestly say I wouldn't have repeated the action now that I've had time to think about it, but the Great Leveller doesn't lay his curses lightly. This one I'm stuck with, even after all the sands of time run out and the universe folds up for good." He was glad for the distracting question. "Crew? The Good Ship Ptarmigan is my crew, but she'll be fine on her own out there, so long as she has fuel before a month is out."

"Or have interest in searching out another world traveller," she replied with a laugh, "You speak of events and constructs not seen here. It's difficult enough following you, let alone an inventor from your world." She fell quiet as he explained his mark and frowned, understanding the burden of lives if not the circumstance around which he obtained the mark. "Combat takes a heavy toll and a good leader bears the guilt of lives lost most heavily of all. Aah, so your ship functions without a crew to man it?" The idea was utterly absurd to Viira. It took many men to keep this ship afloat and moving... what kind of devices eliminated the need for men? "Fuel? What sort?"

"The Brass Duke isn't a world traveller - or at least, not extra-planetary. He runs about in his damned Collosus Golem, but doesn't have an Aether ship, so far as I know. He's not done seducing all of the eligible Terrene citizens." Jack snorted and shook his head. "But he's a genius, built some of the part in the Ptarmigan with his own hands. Cost a pretty fortune, too..." He shrugged dismissively y as she tried to understand the breadth of the loss of the First Galaxy War. But no one could - no mortal creature, for no one was left alive who had fought in it. She was trying, but it wasn't for Jack to accept. "Er," He replied, a little awkwardly. "She wouldn't run without crew, for sure...She just...is her own crew. The words won't mean nothin' to you here, but she's a treasure, some call her The Ship of Dreams." Jack replied with a measure of pride and love in his voice.

Authors: Teresa & Astra