The Cops Are Here, Everyone Be Cool…

Finley had barely made it to the top of the mast when Vathos made the call down to the others. Struggling to pull herself into the bucket that he occupied, which was hardly large enough to accommodate a single person of his stature, she squeezed in beside him.

“What’re you hollerinz about?” She demanded.

“A ship is fast approaching from the aeroport.” Vathos pointed behind them. “She’ll be on us within minutes.”

“Huh?” Finley turned, directing her gaze where he pointed, squinting to see what he did. “That thang? Iziz justa dot! That ain’t no shipziz-iz.”

“Here, use this spyglass.”

The goblin eyed the cylindrical object that the devilkin handed to her. Sniffing at it curiously for a moment, she eventually accepted the strange tube before inspecting it closely with a cautious lick.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Finley asked, smacking her lips.

“You…look through it?” Vathos tilted his head.

Eyeing the devilkin, Finley finished her audible smacks with a sly lick of her lips. Then, pulling the spyglass up to her face, she hesitantly leaned into it, peeking through the eyepiece. She watched as the distant dot she had seen before suddenly grew, revealing that it was indeed a ship. And not just any ship, but the large vessel she had decided not to steal.

“Oh crap!” She gasped loudly. “It’s that big shipziz-iz! The compensatinz one!”

“It belongs to the King’s Enforcers.”

“Who?”

Vathos’s face scrunched up as he slowly turned to examine Finley with a curious stare. Feeling the tension growing beside her, she turned to meet his gaze. They held each other's stare long enough for him to narrow his gaze on her.

“Who are you?” He asked plainly. “Like, really? Who put you up to stealing a ship?”

“Hey!” She snapped, pulling out her rusty dagger. “You wanna get punched in the dickziz-iz with my knife?”

Holding up his hands, Vathos shook his head.

“Actually, I’d really rather not.”

Finley paused, inspecting the man’s face thoroughly before eventually slipping her dagger away with a content nod.

“Well, alrighz then.” She eventually replied. “If you wanna to keepziz that way…tell me what we should do about this approachin’ shipziz-iz.”

“I mean. It's the enforcers, coming directly at us. So, probably pray to your preferred God that they don't notice you?”

“Boring! What elseziz-iz?”

“I guess, get ready for a fight to the death? Likely yours?”

“That I canz do!”

Lacking any fear, Finley flung herself from the crow's nest onto one of the lines connected to the mast. Gripping it firmly, she slid down the rope several feet before the burning in her hands became too much to handle.

“Gah! Fire rope!” She cried out, releasing her hold and tumbling the rest of the way down.

With a thud, the goblin landed on the deck, bouncing twice before leaping back to standing as though she hadn't fallen twenty feet. Blowing on her hands as she rushed to the stairs that led below, she inhaled a final deep breath and yelled.

“Nimble! Nimble, get up here! It’s dick punching time!”

Taking mere seconds, the felis was at the top of the stairs. Goggles now pushed up to his brow, his fully dilated eyes met Finley’s. The goblin inspected him briefly, noticing even more blood had found its way into his fur than before.

“Dick punching time?” He asked with heavy breaths. "Already?"

“Yeah. Were you rollinz around in more blood?”

“I was actually rubbing my scent on the engine room to mark it. The blood just happened to be there. I grabbed this too, just in case!”

Nimble lifted the dismembered, flaccid organ and flailed it around. It flapped back and forth with wet smacks before another shout met their ears.

“Oh my Gods,” Thadd now cried. “Is that…is that Snakecock’s snakecock?”

“Yeah!” Nimble replied loudly. “So behave, or I’ll slap you in the face with it!”

“No, thank you. Not again.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiertan asked the man. “Not again? As in. Your previous Captain…”

“Yeah, when we slept.” Thadd looked down and whined softly. “He’d creep in while he was drunk and wake us up by smacking us with—”

He shuddered, looking at the organ and then to Kiertan. 

“Honestly," Thadd spoke weakly, presenting an equally frail smile to the groundling. "As strange as the last thirty minutes have been, it’s already shaping up to be better than under his command.”

“Oh…you poor lad.”

With a pat on the crewman’s hip, Kiertan abandoned him to the helm to walk towards Nimble and Finley. As he approached, the sorcerer glanced over his shoulder at the now visible warship. It was significantly faster and more deadly than the vessel they commandeered, which meant that if they were indeed after the pirates, the matchup had already been decided. Luckily, Kiertan had a plan.

“Listen up, you two.” He spoke quickly. “If the warship pulls alongside, we need to act normal.”

“Wazzat mean?” Finley replied.

“It means, act like a tall person,” Nimble responded to her. "Be confident. But not too much so. Pretend you belong somewhere just because you're tall. Act like you bathe—”

“Ugh! Gross! No wayziz in hell is that happenz!”

Finley crossed her arms and shook her head. With a small smack of her mouth, the snaggle fang revealed itself from her lips, and she squinted back at Kiertan.

“I sayz we killziz them!”

“No! Absolutely not. We cannot kill an entire enforcer ship.”

“Notz with that attitude we can’tziz-iz.”

“Why are we getting worked up?” Nimble asked. “So what if they’re coming up on us? This is a main shipping lane, right? What are the chances they are going to board us?”

And then, as though by command, a voice boomed from the approaching warship.

“Phlying Phyllis, slow to an idle and prepare to be boarded.”

“Shit!” The three swore in unison, glancing at each other with a collection of unique looks.

“Everyone, behave!” Kiertan barked. “Finley, don’t do anything rash. Nimble, get rid of the dick and prepare an excuse for why you’re covered in blood. Thadd, bring us to a stop!”

With a whip of his hand, Nimble tossed the limp dick down the stairs before quickly attempting to groom himself of the blood. But he wouldn’t have time to begin as the warship came alongside within seconds, its massive form blocking out the sun as it halted beside them.

There was no name on the gargantuan galleon, only a code corresponding to its outpost of origin and the vessel number. This particular ship, the E9-O13-V001, appeared to be heavily armed with both cannons and troops. The trio watched quietly as the ship extended a gangplank stabilized with small yellow crystals towards their deck before a boarding party of a dozen heavily armoured troopers marched forward. 

Each soldier was outfitted in solid black tactical outfits, with matching breastplates and helmets that shielded their faces. Their armorment appeared to be minimal, with only riot shields on their arms and electric batons in their hands. Emblazoned on their chests was a bold white font that displayed a single letter and number: E9.

The boarding party marched onto the deck of the Phlying Phyllis and took up positions along the railing, their bodies facing the three figures who firmly stood their ground. Then, with a unified turn towards the gangplank, they snapped to attention and saluted. Descending from the warship was a minotaur with a salt-and-pepper hide, wearing a similar black outfit, albeit decorated with golden epaulettes. He wore reflective aviator glasses and chewed on a toothpick that hung from his lips.

“Whoziz that douche-canoe?” Finley whispered to Kiertan.

“I have no idea…” The man responded quietly.

“He’s got an awfully punchable-looking face,” Nimble added. "You know what I'm saying?"

The man came to a halt a short distance from the trio, eying them closely as his flat, bovine teeth chewed on the toothpick. Reaching a hand up, he plucked the object and flicked it away before clearing his throat.

“I am Richard G. Bolvineo, Enforcement Commander of Outpost Thirteen. Where’s Captain Snakecock?”

Stepping forward, hands on her hips, Finley inhaled a deep breath. With panic in their steps, both Nimble and Kiertan slapped hands over her mouth. Struggling against their grasp, the goblin attempted to free herself.

"C-Captain Snakecock?" Kiertan spoke up quickly. “He—he’s sleeping one off currently.”

The minotaur stared down at the three of them suspiciously, his eyes shifting from Kiertan to Finley and eventually settling on Nimble.

“Sleeping one off, huh?" He nodded, agreeing with the statement. "That sounds like him. But explain, then, why you’re covered in blood?”

“Blood?” Nimble replied quickly. “Blood?! Does this look like blood to you?”

“Yes.” He growled.

“Oh—well it’s not. It’s—umm—engine grease.”

“Arcano-engines don’t use grease.”

The figure leaned in close to Nimble, inspecting his face and sniffing the ichor that covered his body. Bolvineo raised a hand, preparing to snap his fingers before the felis cleared his throat to reply.

“Sure, maybe the T-eighty-nine-C that runs standard in an E-Nine warship. But you know ol’ Snakecock likes to run them low and slow. The D-two-seventy-three’s are great for that, but have an overheating problem, you know? If you don’t grease the chassis regularly, the friction will cause an arcano-feedback and short out the air crystal. It’s a great way to drop a ship from the sky.”

The minotaur scowled at this reply, lowering his hand and standing up tall. It was at that point that Finley had squirmed enough to free herself from the grip. With a snap of her teeth, she bit down firmly on Kiertan’s fingers, causing him to yelp as he drew back his hand.

“Hey, listen’ere yuh big dickziz-iz.” Finley growled loudly. “I’m in charge of thiz’ere shipziz! So if you gotz a problem, you speakziz to me!”

“You’re in charge?” He replied, a smirk crossing his lips. “Explain.”

“Easy! I’m the—”

“She’s the First Mate!” Thadd explained, rushing up to the scene. “Commander Bolvineo, great to see you again.”

“Thadd.” He replied coolly.

“No! I’m the Captainziz!”

The minotaur looked between the two of them before focusing once more on Thadd.

“You were demoted and replaced by this thing?”

“What do youziz meanz by this thi—YOW!”

Nimble and Kiertan struck Finley on the back of the head simultaneously.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Thadd continued, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “But everything they said is true. The Captain is sleeping one off, and we needed to get going to make our drop off.”

The minotaur stared through him, breaking down every word he said with a stern gaze locked behind reflective spectacles. His vision shifted, glancing at the three short figures and then up at the devilkin in the crow's nest. Finally, after a deep chuckle, he pulled a fresh toothpick from a pocket on his shirt and placed it between his lips.

“So be it,” Bolvineo said with a nod, motioning back towards his ship. “Well, you left without picking up all of your stock. Thank goodness I was there, or else Snakecock would have had your nuts, boy. Let’s just say you owe me ten percent for my kindness.”

“Ten percent!” Thadd coughed.

“Yeah? You’re right, I really did you a solid. Fifteen it is.”

Turning away from the man, Bolvineo began to march back towards his ship as more soldiers arrived in groups of two, carrying large crates between them.

“Tell Snakecock to contact me when he wakes up, so we can hash out the details.”

The group watched in awe as he departed for his ship with nothing more to say. After several minutes of hauling crates from the warship to their smaller vessel, the entire soldiering force followed his lead, leaving the crew of the Phlying Phyllis alone with two dozen boxes larger than the small captains.

It was only once the warship had pulled away from their relatively tiny vessel that the trio finally looked to Thadd for an explanation.

“Thadd,” Kiertan asked, running a hand over the crate. “What’s in the boxes?”

The man, breathing a sigh of relief, stared at the containers before looking to his new captains.

“That,” Thadd spoke softly with a hand to his chest. “Is roughly four hundred and eighty bricks of Fae Dust.”