Spearhead

Francis grabbed himself a sleeve of crackers from the pantry. Wasn’t exactly his favorite food, but his family didn’t really have a shopping list. Now and then he’d get a package ordered by Mom, and that was all she wrote.

He sat down on the couch for the thousandth time. The preteen didn’t have much to do- hardly even had much to think about. Nothing happened at home… nothing happened at school. He almost liked it this way, after being here for so long. He didn’t know anything else.

But he did miss her.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door.

He practically jumped. Were the groceries early? He wanted to wait, let the delivery worker leave- but then there was another knock- firm, hard… and familiar.

He bolted to the door and swung it open.

“Mom!”

Hannigan hugged her son like she was wrestling a live shark. She could almost cry as she squeezed the life out of him, grateful to be back here.

“Y-you didn’t say you’d be able to visit this year…” he choked.

“My boss hasn’t given me any orders. Think he must’ve fallen asleep on the job.”

“I’m glad.” He hugged her back, beaming in her big arms.

It was heaven, but after a day spent together in the house, the mother- the Captain- finally got that dreaded call from her boat.

“Yes?” She softly asked. The crewmate didn’t even recognize her.

“I’m sorry, does this number still belong to Ceannasóir Hannigan?”

Her eyes bulged hearing the voice of her old mate.

“-Give me that!” She mimicked swiping the phone from a frail, weak-willed woman who she could never even pretend to be. “Sorry about that lad, what was ye rambling about?” She bit.

She could hear him almost crying on the other end.

“Hannigan! Listen, you’ve gotta come back- right away!”

She froze for a moment.

“Come back… where?”

“The ship! Trust me! I- I’ll see you there! Sorry, but that’s all I’m gonna say! Bye!”

He hung up on her.

She put her fingers to her chin.

It was risky, but…

She’d been known for taking risks.

“Francis!” She yelled. “Pack yer things. I’m gonna take you for a ride.”

She couldn’t find the craft at first- walking the port, she couldn’t see the words Lucky Pearl anywhere.

“Where are we going?” Francis asked.

“I’m not… I’m not sure, sweetie…” she tip-toed around cautiously…

Until she heard their voices.

She jolted around. Her whole old crew awaited her, standing beside a boat she almost couldn’t recognize.

“Look what we got!”

Her vision trailed up the side of the familiarly shaped craft- first, she realized it was the very one she’d been working on these past years- second, and, more importantly- that it looked nothing like that anymore.

“We bought it back. He looked desperate for some quick cash. Still, I’m surprised he gave up after all these years.”

The cold grey hull.

The heavy guns.

This was no park anymore…

It was a battleship.

“Ceannasóir?” He saluted. “We’re officially back on duty.”

On its side was now written… Spearhead.

The cold, strict, captain gave her warmest smile.

“Labor does not suit me. Or my sister. But we’ve seen some shit, and gotten through it all. I'd be willing to bet me and her can get you out of whatever mess you’re in.”

“We’ll get your boat back. And your freedom.”

She wondered…

Could it really be?