Macha tightened his holster and adjusted the position of his weapon. It felt heavy, cumbersome. The leather straps, a design to go around the shoulders and rest the gun between arm and chest, could have been great if his revolver wasn't so big. With a sigh, he dusted away regrets to focus on the challenge ahead.

  Around him, the tampra soldiers methodically checked the equipment. Cutlasses, pistols and knives were the available weapons. Each and every one of them was armed to the teeth. Too much weight, Macha thought. Too much for a party, trying to climb a ship's hull with simple ropes.

  Behind, the group of Blue prisoners gathered in a corner, pitiful and emaciated, like beaten animals. They had been hidden for most of the trip. Only coming out to get food and a little else. No one minded, of course. Not one was free of the scars of torture. Still were. Yet, knowing a fight was coming, they couldn't stay hidden no more. Bran, the one who had taken it upon leadership of the wretched band, was now urging them to prepare the hooked ropes for the assault.

  Macha's gaze settled on Ced, hunched in the dim corner between the two groups. He turned a flint pistol over in his hands, almost playfully. The man caught on Macha and offered a wry half-smile, shoulders lifting in an easy shrug. "Barbaric thing, isn't it? But I can’t exactly dance with blades like before, right?"

  Macha couldn't hide his sorrow. "Sorry, Mon'Lad, but you can't come. We can't climb if we have to carry you."

  Ced beckoned with the chin towards the robot riding the submersible. "Rob can."

  "I'll do." The machine didn't turn from the periscope. "But not before the boarding. I need to keep this thing at the target's side. When we take the ship, I'll bring you up."

  Ced cursed under his breath and slumped back like a sail without wind.

  The red light barely illuminating the room flickered at the same time as the engine sputtered: a warning their attack could fail before it even began. The ship rolled with the restless sea, dark, oiled water surging along the vessel's floor and slapping calves at each slide.

  Macha turned to Sandree, who was sharpening a long dagger with a flint. "I'd like you to stay," he said, almost a whisper. "Ced needs watching."

  “He's perfectly capable of staying alone for a while, sweet-boy. And I’ve been in more brawls than you." She let out a smirk. "Don't get fooled by the lack of muscles.”

  Uri, who was standing next to her, huffed, but Macha didn't find the answer amusing. He stared, but neither of the two returned the attention.

  "Why aren't we under fire?" said Raj, a second Lieutenant and leader of the tampra men. "Didn't we surface?"

  Macha, awoken from a turmoil of worries, turned to Rob. "Report."

  "We are at the surface indeed! Smart, smart! We are surrounded by tampra ships, yet none seem to bother us. Strange… strange!"

  "Tampra?" a soldier said. "Didn't they leave the battle?"

  Another soldier added to the conversation. "Why are we going to board a Parni ship? We should steal one of Herjard's. They're more modern."

  "And you know how to steer those, fool? Those hulls are big and metal. And the soldiers above have repeating guns!"

  "A kraken, at least!"

  "Silence, gentlemen." Uri's words hammered silence over the room. "We are few, our only chance is to take a smaller ship. Let us be grateful Tampra has decided to return to the battle."

  "They haven't." Rob cut. "They've changed course to avoid the Herjard's blockade. Why they didn't let them pass may be related to why they are lowering sails and raising the whites. Betrayed and surrendering. That's the most probable outcome."

  "Surrendering to their allies?" Macha said. "That makes no sense. Unless the Tampra Navy has heard of the Kraken treachery up north. But how?"

  Sandree rested a hand on Macha's shoulder. "That'd explain why they didn't join the battle, right?"

  Rob let out a sigh that sounded like static. "Life is full of nonsense, mate. Now, get ready, I'm a quarter mile from stern's target. It has stopped, and the crew seem to abandon ship. With a bit of that luck, we may take a ship without a single shot."

  Uri was the first to surge forward, purposeful and committed. Sandree followed close behind, followed by the soldiers and the Blue folk. Boots pounded over metal and splashed over puddles while Macha watched them leave. He lingered, just long enough for Ced to snag on his delay.

  "After we take the ship, the real fight will start," Macha said. "Don't be so sure you will be missing any good action, so get that barbaric weapon ready, yes?"

  As Ced answered with a wink, Macha darted into the corridor. Uri was already at the ladder that led to the top metal hatch. The rest piled in a tight crowd around her.

  The Jo warrior gripped the wheel of the roof hatch door, but didn't open.

  While waiting for Rob's orders, a heavy knot twisted in Macha’s stomach. He checked his revolver, rolling the drum to see the bullets gleam inside. Then, he rolled it again. And again. All eyes fell on him, although no one paid him any attention. He tried to look brave, calm, unshaken, but doubt told him he wasn’t convincing anyone.

  Sandree tapped his back. “I’ve seen you practice. You are a great shot, almost like Em. And this is no lie."

  "I haven't shot anything but dummy targets," Macha muttered. "Don't compare me with him."

  Deep inside, he expected more reassurance. Something more to lift his morale. But she remained quiet, and her silence felt heavy like a boulder. He’d weathered brawls and fights: Survived the Back Rock, endured storms and been adrift for days. Yet, an endless journey with nothing but suffocating thoughts carved hollows in his resolve. Failure loomed over him, and he couldn't shake it out.

  They remained quiet and ready, expecting Rob's command to board at any moment, but what came were not words but thunder.

  The Icto rattled, its whole structure threatening to break at each burst. A thunderstorm of shots turned into a violent tide of deafening noise. Pipes screamed, the submersible's hull losing against the sea’s pressure.

  Another blast, louder, closer. A boom so fierce it rattled teeth in jaws. Not a direct hit at all, yet the Icto creaked, and a burst of water and mist engulfed them all.

  Macha staggered, one hand braced against the ladder. The soldiers scrambled, weapons drawn, though no blade could be of any use.

  Then, the Icto's engine stopped, and all breathing halted.

  “Impact?” Sandree said. 'Are we hit?"

  Uri turned the wheel from the hatch, but waited to pull it open.

  "Rob?" Macha felt sure the machine would not hear him, but still he whispered. "Do we… proceed?"

  Silence. No more cannon shots from the outside. No more engine throttle from within.

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  Rob’s voice came suddenly from nowhere, filled with a cracking, reverberating noise. “You may go up,” he said, strangely too calm, too discouraging. “Although I doubt there's a ship to board anymore.”

  The hatch creaked. Uri raised her fusil and pointed along the rim, searching for targets. Nothing. No gunfire. Only the hiss of wind over a broken sea. She hauled herself out. The others followed, climbing one by one, crawling into a world that no longer felt like theirs.

  Macha blinked against the sudden glare. The air thick with smoke reeked of burned wood. Ash drifted like snowflakes across the waves. The sky, once blue, was veiled in the black trails of fire.

  Chaos stretched in every direction. Ships burning, others sinking. Hulls melted into the ocean into a cover of wood and sails. Amongst the debris, men cried and screamed: Some to ease pain and despair, others to cling to a last desperate attempt to survive.

  Above it all, though the whites and blacks of clouds and smoke, shadows moved. A swarm of black-winged shapes, vast and terrible, drifted through the haze. At first, Macha thought them birds, great carrion beasts lurking on the dying. But as the silhouettes reached too close, their nature became clear: Flying machines.

  Macha’s breath caught. Em’s voice stirred in his memory, hushed and eerie as he told him of the old war against Herjard and their flying balloons: Of the fire they dropped once upon him and his fellows.

  Uri’s mouth moved, but no words reached. Sandree stood frozen, blade slack in hand, her face paling in the light of burning wrecks. Former prisoners and soldiers of Tampra whispered prayers, some loud, some under their breath. One man wept openly.

  The Icto bobbed like a cork among corpses and wreckage as winds and surge began to falter. Hidden though the smoke. Save the wrath of the Herjard dreadnoughts. Though gaps in the haze, they could see them. Terrifying vessels of metal closing in at a distance.

  "We need to return inside," Macha spoke with no conviction.

  No one went back to the hole. Instead, Rob appeared, climbing out with Ced slung across his shoulders like a sack of grain. He dropped his load heavily onto the deck and scouted the surroundings in silence.

  “Attention passengers, captain speaking. It's time to swim and gather junk!”

  "W-what do you mean?" Sandree said.

  "The Icto is done. We need to abandon ship. Soon those dreadnoughts will spot us through the fog, fellas, so we need to move away and fast." Rob raised a finger. "Fetch that boat, hurry." The robot's arm darted to the side, then reached for one of the hooked ropes hanging from a man's shoulder. "Get everything big and buoyant, hurry."

  Macha dragged his gaze across the horizon. Wreckage stretched in every direction, and amongst the disaster, a sole, empty boat drifted towards them.

  Some of the Blue prisoners, the ones with strength left in them, jumped into the water. Soldiers took the ropes and, like Rob, tossed them towards planks and bulks.

  Soon, they had a broad pile of junk to tie together. While all hands worked on the floating raft, the boat reached. They didn't finish their work on the lifebuoy when former enemies struggling to survive began to swim to them. Some hesitated to close, faces of panic glooming as they saw Rob, but most of the others, desperate and exhausted, cared little.

  Soon, numbers doubled.

  A confused sailor jumped over the boat.

  "You, scallywag. Get out. The boat is mine." Rob said, "Get that rope and tie it to the main structure."

  The man, eyes wide, obeyed without question.

  Macha wiped ash from his eyes. “What now? There's no place to go. And I doubt we can outrun those ships with this.”

  “I'll pull you up." Rob jumped on the boat to settle its oars. "Southeast. Away from the dreadnoughts and the fight. The probability is that Herjard will move toward the battle line to continue creating destruction. We will go southeast, outside the line of engagement.”

  The Icto's groan echoed through the hull as it slightly tilted. The sea lapped higher against the planks, dark water seeping through every seam.

  Ced coughed, trying to push himself upright. “Quit talking and get us off this cursed tub before she drags us under!”

  Macha moved to lift him, but Rob was already there. Ced’s pistol clattered against Rob’s back as he was hauled over the robot's shoulder. Then, the machine pulled the rope until the boat was close enough to toss the man again.

  "I'm not a bag of potatoes, damn it!" Ced yelled.

  "My apologies!" Rob sat down and grabbed the oars. "Chop, chop!"

  Water sloshed around Macha's boots as he landed on a platform made of the remains of a hull's plank. Barrels and boxes were added to increase its buoyancy. The craft crowded with trembling men as many other enemies called from the distance. People on board beckoned and yelled, encouraging the others to reach.

  Uri dropped last, her balance perfect even as the planks rocked. "We can't fit everyone. We need to go."

  "Good call, Jo girl! That's the spirit!" Rob said. The robot began to row. His metal arms, even lacking muscle, pulled stronger than any man could.

  The boat began pulling through the water in wide, rhythmic sweeps. The raft and other smaller planks, all tied in a net of ropes and hooks, followed.

  With each stroke, with every passing wave, truth became undeniable: there were too many on board.

  "Stop it!" Macha said. "We will sink!"

  Rob continued. And with the impossible push of his rowing, every human at his mercy struggled to stay onboard.

  Behind them, the curtain of smoke shone. Then came the blasts of shots and the blast of an explosion.

  Rob surged forward, oars accelerating like pistons. The rest fought for grip as wood groaned. Only until a rope snapped, leaving a lone sailor on a box behind, did the robot relent.

  Stranded with nothing to do but wait, they remained adrift.

  Macha’s arms burned. Around, the fog cleared slowly. Shadows appeared around them.

  “Like this, we can't even die with the honour of a fight!” Uri hissed. She raised her fusil, sighting over the fog. Shapes bobbed on the water ahead, and shouts busted. Yells in the common tongue, but with the indistinguishable accent of the Parnis.

  "We are friends!" Fighting balance, Macha stood. "Tampra men!"

  Macha sank back into the planks, trembling. Seawater dripped from his chin like tears. From behind, he noticed someone struggling to get up as he had a moment before.

  "I'm an officer of the Kubaran’s guard!" Raj tapped frantically over his wet uniform. "This is Count Azeem! An ally from the Red. The machine is friendly! We can explain!"

  As the fog cleared, boats appeared all around them. Dozens. All filled with Tampra sailors.

  Blades shone, muzzles raised.

  "No need to be scared, friends," Rob said. "Believe the handsome fella. I'm as friendly as a pup!"

  A man dressed in the fancy clothes of a captain spoke. "Keep those hands where we can see them! Don't attempt anything stupid!"

  Rob raised his arms in surrender and whispered. "Like you could stop me if I tried..."

  Macha shushed.

  The tampra boats closed in a circle surrounding them. No more way out, no escape if they decide to fight them.

  The captain took a little time to inspect Rob, but much longer to inspect the uniforms of the soldiers around Macha. After a while, he ordered his men to lower their weapons with a trembling hand.

  "Tampra is under martial law and ruled by Kraken authority, they said. We are traitors, so…they shot at us. Is it true? Did Tampra fall?"

  "I'm afraid so," Macha said.

  The captain narrowed his eyes on Macha. Raj took a staggering step forward to rest his arm on him. "This is Count Azeem: a close friend of Kubaran. We escaped the capital with a Red Island ship. A technological wonder as it's the man-machine over there."

  “Well… Whatever it is, and whoever you are. We shouldn't care much as we are all dead if we don't work together,” the captain's thumb raised towards the iron ships. “Those will blow us up if we don't go back to rowing!”

  "They could have done it already," Rob said. "But I think we are too insignificant now to be a threat. Just sayin' … oh, captain my captain!" Rob raised a hand to his forehead.

  Fear and uncertainty twisted the captain's face. "We'll make for the city, the line of engagement will likely finish us before we do, but better them than Herjard."

  Macha looked up at the sky. The flying machines reached Male. "I don't think there will be much of a city when we arrive."

  "Well…" the captain said. "There's not much hope we will reach anyway. Unless this 'friendly' machine has any secret technology that can help us."

  Rob's head turned towards the dreadnoughts, which were taking course towards the battle. Between them, and where the Icto was last seen, only water and a stain of blackness remained. "I had, mate. I had… But not anymore."