The Stowaway Part II

A sharp clucking pierces the pre-dawn quiet. Lawrence bolts upright on his makeshift bed of cargo blankets, heart racing. Friend stands at his feet, pecking insistently at his toes through the thin fabric.

"What are you-" He draws his feet back, but Friend follows, her determined beak finding its target again.

Friend hops onto his legs, her eyes fixed on something in Lawrence's pocket. He pulls out the remains of a protein bar from yesterday.

"So that's what you're after."

Friend's head bobs in confirmation, her tail wagging as she inches closer. Lawrence sighs and breaks off a piece, holding it out. The chicken snatches it with lightning speed, then stares expectantly at the rest.

"Spoiled little brat, aren't you?" He wraps the remainder and tucks it away. Friend's cluck echoes through the cargo hold.

Lawrence scoops up the protesting chicken and climbs to the deck. The sky bleeds pink at the edges, promising sunrise. Shiro stands at the helm.

"I believe this belongs to you." He sets Friend down. She immediately starts pecking at Shiro's boots.

"She woke you up?"

"Tried to eat my toes. Does she do this often?"

"Only when she's bored. Or hungry. Or both."

Friend clucks in agreement, circling their legs like a feathered shark.

"Quite the personality for a chicken."

"She knows what she wants." Shiro reaches into her pocket and tosses something small. Friend catches it mid-air, swallowing whatever it was in one gulp.

"Wish I had that kind of certainty."

"Most people think they know exactly what they want. Until they get it."

Lawrence's fingers tap against his leg. "And what about you, Captain? Do you know what you want?"

"I want to know what happened to your ship- the one that capsized," she says, her voice edged sharper than steel.

Lawrence's fingers stop their restless dance. "It wasn't my ship. I was just crew."

"That's not what I asked. What happened?"

"We were..." Lawrence's hand moves to his pocket, an unconscious gesture. "The weather turned. Storm came out of nowhere."

"The weather was clear yesterday. Has been for days."

"You don't sail these waters much, do you? There's a spot, about three miles from here. The locals call it the Dead Zone. Air currents mixed with the fumes. We hit a pocket of superheated air that created a microstorm. By the time we saw the wall of black clouds, it was too late. The waves came from all directions. No time to radio for help. Ship listed hard to port, then..." He spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. "You saw the rest."

"The Dead Zone. Strange I haven't heard of it."

"Most captains avoid it entirely. We were trying to save time. Thought we could cut through before the air currents shifted."

"You were lucky to survive."

"Very lucky." Lawrence's fingers finally still their restless tapping.

"But the crew- they weren't so lucky, were they?"

"They made it to the lifeboats. Last I saw, they were heading east toward the trading routes."

"All of them?"

"Most." Lawrence's fingers resume their tapping. "The engine crew got trapped below deck when the ship listed. The Captain went back for them. Told us to launch the boats, said he'd catch up in the emergency raft. Never saw them surface."

"What's it like? Working with your crew."

"Good people. Hard workers. Martinez could navigate through anything. Wei kept the engines running smoothly."

"Could? Past tense?"

"Can. They can. Slip of the tongue."

"And the captain?"

"Brave man. Went down with his ship, trying to save others. Real hero, that one."

"Heroes don't usually leave their crew trapped below deck."

"What are you implying?"

"You said the engine crew was trapped when the ship listed. But engine rooms have emergency exits. Standard safety protocol."

Lawrence waves his hand dismissively, though his fingers continue their restless dance against his leg. "You don't know Sailfish. They cut every corner possible to stay competitive. Half our ships barely passed inspection."

"Against the automated fleets?"

"Exactly." Lawrence's shoulders hunch forward. "Can't compete with machines that don't need sleep or food. So management found other ways to save money. Emergency exits? Safety features? All just expensive luxuries according to them."

"The automated ships took over most routes years ago," Lawrence continues. "Sailfish was one of the last holdouts using human crews. They said it gave us an edge- that personal touch, you know? But really, they just couldn't afford to upgrade.”

He falls silent for a moment, then looks at Shiro. "Hey, why did you let me stay? I lied about the lock."

"Did you?"

"We both know it wasn't unlocked." His eyes drop to Friend, who has nestled between them, calmly preening her golden-brown feathers. "Most captains would've tossed me overboard for breaking in."

Shiro's fingers trace the frayed edge of her oversized sleeve. "Someone once told me trust has to start somewhere."

"That sounds naive."

"She was." Shiro's voice softens. "But she wasn’t wrong. People can surprise you- if you give them the chance."

Before Lawrence can respond, Shiro cuts the moment short. "Get some rest," she says, nodding toward the cargo hold. "I'll keep Friend occupied up here."

Lawrence blinks, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. "You're not worried I'll try something?"

"Friend would warn me. She has good instincts."

Lawrence studies the small bird. "Quite the security system you've got there."

"More effective than you'd think."

The weight of unspoken words hangs between them. Lawrence nods and turns toward the cargo hold, his footsteps echoing against metal.