Zecora sniffed the wet, damp pre-dawn air. Pausing, cocking her head, she pointed east, moving on all fours through the thick hillside grass. Luna reached down to a pair of binoculars and scanned where Zecora had pointed. Sure enough, there sat a ship at the water’s edge, motionless and as silent as a ghost crew.

“Captain,” the princess whispered, “is that vessel suitable?”

Bringing up his rifle’s scope, he studied the ship carefully. At this distance, exact proportions were difficult. If one of the crew were there… “Ahhh,” he said, finally seeing one of the perimeter guards. “They’ve learned to be a little more cautious, it seems.” Quickly, he compared the rough height of the pirate to the ship. Assuming an average height--and the size of the camp around it, telling the number of crew--he was fairly certain when he said, “It doesn’t have quite the cannon I’d like, but for size, we should be set.”

“Excellent,” replied Luna, her voice tinged with excitement. “Firepower pales to skill, so worry not on the cannon, Captain. Let us focus, instead, on stealing it.”

“Commandeer,’ he corrected. “Or liberate, if you prefer.”

She sniffed. “You military types and your terminology. It is all the same.”

“Either word nets us a boat,” Zecora added, looking behind her at the two for a brief moment. “Either word involves a slit throat.” She returned her attention to scouting, crawling ahead with purpose.

Automatically, Lew said, “Ship, not boat.” Then, slinging his rifle to his shoulder, he turned to the loose dirt at their feet. He made a sharp crescent, an X on the inside and a half circle opposite it. He then tapped his finger four times, twice on each side. “Offhand I saw four sentries. But if they’re smart, they’ll likely have a sharpshooter or two in the trees on both sides. I think, considering the more ordered state of their camp, they are smart. Or at least smarter.”

“So no daring do, as you and Zecora performed the last,” said Luna, bored. She shrugged. “Get us past those guards and it will hardly matter, Captain.” She made a quick maze of lines within the half circle. Lew was shocked as he realized it must have been the layout of the camp itself. She had amazingly sharp eyes. “See? They have turtled too strongly, making the camp itself a confusing, tight quarters maze. A melee in there can only go one way for someone such as myself.”

“Fine, yes,” he agreed, “but you said it yourself: We need to get past the guards.” He looked again at the camp. It was a far smarter location than the last.

The ocean pushed into the land itself, creating a small cove that Lew was shocked had been deep enough for the ship to anchor as close as it had. He had to hand it to the ship’s navigator, it had been a risky, bold, and in the end successful choice. A near-circle of beach enclosed the water--a far cry from the typical rocky shores Lew had seen so far. Worse, it acted like a peninsula, meaning there were no flanks beyond the sea itself.

And the worst part was that it was likely just dumb luck they had chosen it. It was the flattest, clearest space along this cliff shore, allowing them to effectively dock with the island itself, rather than using the smaller landing boats. The terrain beyond the camp, though wooded, stayed flat. And though they left the trees, it looked as if the pirates had cleared the majority of the brush, making the space between the trees open and deadly.

All in all, it was rather well thought out. Lew suspected they were dealing with more than just pirates, but said nothing.

“Honestly, I’m unsure, Princess,” he finally said. “If we had some artillery, or explosives of any kind, perhaps…”

“Distraction?” she asked.

“Might be our only way, though you know I hate offering up one of my men as bait. I don’t see any better approaches, between the open woods and the sea.”

Rubbing at her chin, Luna closed her eyes in thought as Lew took to studying the camp again. After a moment, she asked, “Captain, how fares the tide?”

“Milady?” he asked, confused.

“The ocean waves--are they still? Or is there a strong current?”

Not understanding, Lew took a look. “Within the cove it’s still, of course. The waters around the peninsula don’t seem all that rough either. Why?”

Reaching to the long cloth hanging from his neck, she brought it up and grinned. “I believe I’ve found our approach.”

Lew’s face scrunched in confusion as his mind tried to understand what she meant. The current and his camouflage… Then his eyebrows rose as comprehension dawned. He tilted his head. “Do you mean to…?” He trailed off.

“You said you required some artillery, Captain. Why not take what our enemies have so kindly left for us?”

He nodded once and then turned to his lieutenant. “Ask around, find the best swimmers. We need… Three or four men should do it. Quick!” The man gave a salute and started walking among the platoon Lew had brought with him, the other three still at the village in case the pirates lucked out in finding it. “Zecora, we nee—” He stopped. Turning to Luna, he asked, “Where is Zecora?”

“Off having fun, I surmise,” she replied, smirking and giving an affected sigh of impatience. “Would that I could act on my own and not be slowed by such things as plans and strategies.”

“So glad to be of service,” grumbled Lew, but he was too deep in thought to put any real sting in it. “You men,” he said, gesturing to a few soldiers nearby, “start cutting some of this brush. The darker, larger plants.”

As his men got to work, Lew wondered just what Zecora was up to.

Zecora crept through the tall grass on all fours, her spear clutched tightly in her palm. She held her breath, only breathing when the wind would cover up the noise. She set her eyes at the treeline to the west, noting a movement at the heights of the tree trunk. A blotch in green camo. It would have been hard for normal eyes to spot, but for hers, man-made camouflage was nothing compared to what the jungle hid.

She waited until his attention was focused in a different direction before she reached at the ground and picked up a rock. She rubbed its jagged surface with a thumb, taking in a breath before giving it a sideways throw under his line of vision. As soon as it made a dull thud of impact against the ground she shot forward, moving like a noiseless wisp closer to the man as he snapped toward the noise, gun in hand and eyes staring down the scope. On seeing nothing, he turned; Zecora twisted, hiding behind a thick tree trunk and once more holding her breath.

She sat for a few silent moments, listening to the world around her. She listened to the insects creeping along the ground and trees, listened to the birds, shifting and stirring within their nests. She listened to the subtle groan and creak from the man as he once more adjusted himself to a more comfortable position.

She went around, creeping yet again along the uneven jungle terrain until she came to rest below the man. He sat some fifteen feet high, on a sort of wooden bench attached to the tree by ropes and an plank at an angle against the tree, reinforcing the bench.

Her first thought was to shatter the reinforcing wood, sending him down to the ground, but she realized the amount of noise that would cause. Instead, she reached to her side, unsheathing a heavy hunting knife. She sat her spear down quietly on the ground, then made a sprint at the tree. Jumping, she landed on the trunk, then used it to spring up. She grabbed the ledge with an arm and swung herself up. The man had turned his head, the additional weight causing the perch to sag; his only reward for his reflexes was the knife already sailing through the air.

She stabbed him straight through the throat.

His eyes widened in alarm for a brief, struggling moment, before he stilled. Zecora pulled herself up fully onto the bench and patted him down. She took a few knickknacks, coins and some magazines for the gun he had carried. She picked up the rifle, looking over its body. It didn’t appeal to her, but she slung it over her shoulder, deciding it would make a good gift to Luna, or the man she traveled with. Taking one more moment to observe the camp she found herself nearby, she turned, making her way back to Lew and Luna.

Ten minutes later saw Lew to his volunteers—Rey ‘Al’ Riff, who had the short name for no reason Lew knew of; Sarissa Flash, who he knew from her training at the Academy; and Tom Bintel, who had garnered the nickname Lucky during his trip overboard when they fled Torani—and a pile of greenery that they were working to weave together to form a solid, but natural looking patch that would cover them from above as they swam from the shore around the beach to the ship within the cove. Lew was a little worried about getting to the shore itself, but beyond that, he was confident in the plan.

After his practice with his own outfit, Lew was adept at putting the various leaves and vines together to form a sort of covering, draped across the shoulders, that could be slipped over the head. Whether they would look right on the water… That was to be seen.

“This should do,” he said, tying up the last and handing it to Lucky. “Be careful with that, it’s more fragile than it looks.”

“Yes, sir!” Lucky said, saluting as he joined the others. They were being outfitted with whatever weapons the platoon had that were reliable once wet. It was likely they’d have to take the ship by force.

Approaching the lieutenant, Lew said, “Ready the others to lay a covering fire once the fighting starts on the ship. Keep far enough away to make sure nothing has a chance to hit anyone--it’ll waste our shots too, but it’s the safest bet. Once the ship is ours, the cannon will make short work of any resistance.” Affirming the order, Lew took his place beside Luna, who had continued to observe the camp. “Any sign of her?”

“Oh, Captain,” she chided,” I think you of all people know that if Zecora doesn’t wish to be seen, she will not be seen.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” They stood for a moment and he cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, before stating, “You spent the night with our host.”

“Mmm,” was all the reply she gave.

Letting the topic go at that, he said, “Well, we’re ready whenever she returns. I’d rather her join in the assault on the ship.”

“As would I, Captain. She is an impressive warrior, even by my standards.”

They heard a low chuckle, Zecora grinned at them as she approached, running a thumb under the strap of a hefty rifle.

“Your words are kind, simply too much. I have to say they’re making me blush.” She reached behind her, tossing the rifle off her back and presenting it to Luna. “My aim with a gun lacks, I fear. But I believe your sights are true, my dear.”

She took it and hefted the weight before slinging it to her shoulder in imitation of the captain. “For the necessity of it. Though guns are hardly a warrior’s tool.”

“Well, I’ll feel a bit better with the princess covering me, that’s for sure,” said Lew with a laugh. “So what can you report, Zecora?”

“Their eyes to the west have been undone. I left their gunman in a pool of blood,” Zecora replied. “And if I may to you be quite frank: It left them open to a quiet flank.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” Gathering up the volunteers and their bundles, he said, “We’ll be going for the ship from the sea--turning their cannons against them is the easiest way.”

As the small party approached the shore--trying to give the camp as wide a berth as possible, while keeping the ship in sight--he explained the plan to Zecora, and handed her one of the plant bundles.

“Hope you’re a good swimmer,” he said. “There’s no telling how bad the current will be, but it’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“I’ve been swimming these waters since I was a pup. If anything, Lew, I hope you keep up.”

“Well, we’ll need to stagger our approach. I’ll go first, then I want Lucky, and you Sarissa, together. Then, Princess, you should go. Then Al, and, Zecora, you take the last crossing. If anyone gets in trouble, you’ll be best suited to helping out.”

“The idea sounds grand.” She gave a small bow. “Your wish, Lew, is my command.”

The princess said nothing, but nodded, and his men saluted as they prepped their camouflage. Wrapping his neck and face tight--the material was designed to be somewhat waterproof, so he hoped to keep himself from getting too soaked--Lew donned his own makeshift bundle as he stepped into the water. Though his boots held, his pants didn’t, and an involuntary shiver ran up his spine from the chill of the water against his legs.

“I’ll see you all at the ship. Remember--don’t just go for it. Let the current wash you some, drift. And be careful you don’t wash up on the shore.”

Not even waiting for a reply, he threw the mound of tangled leaves and vines over his head and waded into the deeper water. The material of his camo was as waterproof as he hoped, but still the sea splashed his eyes and soaked behind his mask. The salt tasted bitter, incredibly bitter. He stopped, floating, and spat as best he could before sucking in a deep breath. Between the sea and the mass of plant matter above, he had little room to breathe, and it took no time before he felt uncomfortable.

Carefully, he lifted the covering and found the ship. Letting it drop, he hoped they had made it long enough as he slowly kicked his way forward, roughly parallel to the shore. It was slow, tedious work, and he stopped to just float, checking on the ship, many times.

At least I’ve not heard any gunshots yet.

Confident the plan was working, he saw he was nearing the bend around the shore. His lungs ached, and his legs were starting complain at the errant trail he had to swim. He could say one thing about this little adventure, at the least--he had a whole new training regimen developed to put his men through if life ever got back to normal.

As he circled the small peninsula, he felt the current pick up. But, after a quick check, he saw it was taking him exactly the way he wanted, funneling into the cove. A couple course corrections saw him heading straight for the ship’s hull.

Lew kicked his way to the ship. It was a small risk, but he felt it worth it so he could see where the others were at. Crashing gently into the hull, he was thankful the pirates had a series of ropes (They’re called lines, he reminded himself) hanging over the deck to the waterline, in case of men falling overboard.

Gripping one, he held himself steady and kept the mass of plant matter above him as he turned to see the progress of the others. It didn’t take long before a large, green mass approached, revealing Lucky and Sarissa as they grabbed their own ropes. The princess was next.

As she reached the ship, he saw her grin, her hand pulling hard on the rope. “That was invigorating, Captain. But you shouldn’t take your time--I had to slow three times to not pass you all.” Lew ignored her as the next bundle arrived. Al, quiet as usual, grabbed a rope and waited for Lew’s next orders.

Just one more--there, he thought, as the Zecora mass floated next to him.

Zecora rose herself after a moment, glancing behind her for any stragglers. Finding none, she nodded to Lew, herself grasping a rope. “I watched your men go one-by-one. Your comrade’s seafaring for now is done.”

“Alright, so far so good,” he said, looking up. “Zecora, you’re the best climber--you play scout. See if the deck is clear.”

Moving as soon as he said the word ‘scout,’ Zecora went up the rope, scrambling less like a person and more akin to a beast, fluidly, almost pouncing every step up the rope, rather than a simple climb. It wasn’t long at all before she was over the railing and vanished onto the deck. They waited one moment, then two, before a figure flew off the ship. Lew caught sight of it just as it crashed into the water. A man, his throat heavily dug into and torn. Looking back up as the body sank underwater, he saw Zecora, leaning over to them from the deck and making a ring with her index finger and thumb.

Climbing up, with a wave for his men to follow, he made the climb as quick as he could, dropping the disguise below. Topping the railing, he look at Zecora’s proud smile and said, roughly, “I said ‘scout’, not make a very obvious splashing noise that would give us up.”

“Mind your voice,” she cautioned, staring evenly at Lew. “And you act like I had a choice. It’s simple, my lord. The man saw me as I hopped aboard.”

“You sure as hell did,” he hissed, “since I only wanted to know if the deck was clear--that means just looking, not hopping the rail. If it wasn’t, we’d have cleared it, our way.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, it’s over and done with for now, and we’re not dead yet. We got lucky. Let’s clear the rest of this ship before their watch goes missing.”

By then, the others had boarded and were readying their weapons. The princess was the last aboard. She nodded to Zecora, saying, “Excellently done, lady Zecora.” She pulled her hair back, tying in a tight tail, then drew her sword. “Now it’s my turn.” She headed for the door to belowdecks.

“Now your princess, she makes sense,” Zecora said, crossing her arms and watching Luna travel to the door. “She knows the value of a good offense.”

“And I know how to do my job,” Lew replied, walking quickly to the departing princess and grabbing her shoulder. He was pleased when he didn’t recoil from her frosty look. “Wait, Princess, wait!”

“Captain, why are you stopping me? You yourself mentioned our need for haste.”

“Men,” Lew said flatly.

“Yes, sir!” each said in unison, thankfully quietly, as they saluted.

“How do we train you to succeed.”

“By running swiftly to victory, not hastefully to an early grave.”

He gestured with his hand to the three soldiers, giving Luna a knowing look. She looked surprised, then slowly nodded and sheathed the sword. “The Somini battle chant. I often forget the Guard has adopted much of their ways.”

“Because they work, Princess,” Lew said, more respectfully. “You and Zecora are both fine warriors, the very best, I am not disputing that. But this is our territory--we’re soldiers, this is close-quarters assault. There are methods and we’re going to follow them so no one gets hurt except the enemy.”

“So what exactly are you saying, Captain?” the princess asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That I need both you and Zecora, for the duration of this mission, to follow my orders exactly as I give them. It’s time you let us show you what we’re really capable of.” He turned to the soldiers, still standing at attention. “Lucky, Al, bayonets, or whatever we’ve got. Sarissa, you’ll take point behind--clear and recognize. Our targets are a complete, quiet sweep of the ship, top to bottom, followed by the cannons.”

“Yes, sir,” replied all three. Slinging out their rifles, Lew saw they had duct taped combat knives to the ends, while Sarissa pulled out a beaten short sword.

He turned back to Luna and Zecora. “Well, my ladies?”

Zecora exchanged a look with Luna before nodding at the man. “Your hostility I wish not to accrue. So I will follow what Luna wishes to do.”

The princess merely shrugged. “You’re the captain, Captain. Let’s see you work.”

“Thank you. Men, move out. Zecora, Luna, follow me. Blades only.”

Lucky took the lead as the group moved to the door. Gripping the handle, he waited for Al to pull a smaller knife and give a thumbs up. Silently, Lucky counted down from three with his fingers. On zero, he pulled the door open and Al rushed inside, Sarissa close behind. Inside was a short hallway that opened up to a large space. Two doors--one on each side--would open to small cabins, and stairs, or rather a ladder, could be seen centered down the hall.

Entering, Lew waited until both Zecora and the princess had entered, then he pulled the door closed behind them, quietly. Lucky and Al had already taken the left door and were awaiting Lew and Sarissa on the right. Pulling out his boot knife, Lew gestured for Sarissa to take the door. This time, he took the count, and both Sarissa and Lucky opened their doors, nigh simultaneously.

Rushing in, Lew scanned the room quickly--it was small, probably seven by twelve or so. Two bunks were built into the wall, both surprisingly made and thankfully empty. Little else could be seen beyond a single small desk, which had several rolls of paper. He left the room, giving the all clear signal as Al gave the same.

“Downstairs,” Lew mouthed silently.

The group headed down the stairs, none wincing at a single creak. As he and his men had learned very quickly during their retreat from the mainland, it was a ship. It creaked. It creaked a lot.

Belowdecks was much the same as above. A longer hallway, with several doors along the right side but only two on the left. That likely marked it as the captain’s cabin. Leaning next to Zecora, he explained, “You’re the fastest, and it’ll be a big room, so you’ll make the breach. Should be empty, but if not… Throat the closest target, Sarissa will be right behind after the next. If the target is asleep, no kill, Sarissa will disable.”

He approached the door and gripped the handle, as Lucky, Al, and Sarissa each took their own door. Again, he gave the count. Three… Two… One. “Go!” he mouthed, twisting the handle and swinging the door in a controlled thrust, opening it without slamming it.

She wordlessly nodded, reaching for the knife at her side and lowering her body. Dashing in at a half-crouch, she looked left and right as she made her way to the center of the room. There was a weak groan of protest; a man lay sleeping on the bed, an empty gin bottle at his socked feet. There wasn’t anyone else, at least for this room.

The guardswoman moved fast, taking a position over the man and quickly shutting off his airway with her forearm. There was a slight choking noise, his eyes bulged open but no cry left his lips. After a few moments, his eyes closed again as his body went fully limp. Removing the pressure, Sarissa waved the others in. Lew closed the door behind them.

“Good work,” he told her, making gestures for the others to tie him up. They complied quickly as Lew looked about the cabin. It was much larger than the others, but still relatively small and spartan in its furnishings. An actual bed--still built into the wall--took up most of the space, with the rest being filled by one writing desk and one small table that had radio equipment on it. “Well,” he said, “that explains the man here. Guess they always keep someone on the radio, just in case.”

“If I may offer something like a muse, could we perhaps use the radio for a ruse?” Zecora offered, looking over the technology.

Lew thought about it but shook his head. “I don’t like it. Let’s keep to our current plan.” He did, however, gesture to Lucky. “But, Lucky, I want you to stay here. The last thing we need is for the whole game to be spoiled just because someone doesn’t pick up the radio.”

“Roger, sir!” the young man nodded, then took the seat beside the radio. Lew noted, approvingly, that he kept his blade ready, rather than pulling a sidearm.

“As for the rest of us--let’s double time it, men!” They saluted and, Luna and Zecora following, the group headed out the door to sweep the rest of the ship.

As dusk fell, Captain Alexander looked over his men as they finished the last chores of setting up camp. The boys had done good and he was positive about the operation that was commencing the next day. Finally, he would scout no more--now, they could take the prey they had been so calmly watching and tracking. It was a good feeling. The best feeling.

The stillness before the strike.

Standing in the entrance to his tent, he clapped once, then waited as his crew stopped whatever it was they were doing and gathered in the central clearing of their camp. After a moment he had everyone’s attention.

“Lads, I just want to say you have done a fantastic job. Not like that idiot Bearcry and his hooligans and thugs. No, these damned guardsmen won’t catch us unawares!”

There was a general cry to that and he let it go on for a bit before waving it down.

“Now, as you know, the Admiral has tasked us with keeping our target right where she’s at for tomorrow’s big action. So, as we’re the best of the best, we’re not going to let anything escape our notice!”

His crew cheered again and, those not designated for the watch that night, raised their mugs in toast.

Alexander smiled, looking forward to his own private stash of very fine whiskey. He had a habit of taking a single shot before the most important days of his life. The bottle was still a little over half full, but he suspected that, under the Admiral, the coming days would see it drained quickly.

He opened his mouth to join in the cheer just as the first explosions blossomed amongst his men.

“Ready! Load those charges, double-double!” cried Lew as his guards worked, loading the powder charge and tamping it before rolling in another explosive round. Lew was impressed at the small arsenal the ship possessed. But cannons weren’t easy without practice, and his men weren’t the quickest at reloading.

“Armed, Captain!” cried Sarissa as she turned away and covered her ears.

“Fire!”

Another deafening shot rang out, sending the cannon hurtling back as the roller system it sat on locked and slowed the recoil.

“Captain,” reported Al. “We got lucky, with them grouped up like that. They’ve scattered.”

“Excellent--let’s give them a third round, then call for their surrender.” He turned to the princess. “You care to go abovedecks for that, my lady?”

A wolfish smile broke her lips. “Oh, it would be my pleasure, Captain. Awaiting your signal.” She turned and left, heading for the ladder back up.

“All set, Captain,” reported Sarissa a moment later.

“Target the largest tent--that’s likely to be their captain’s,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” both guards said in near-unison.

“Fire when ready,” he said, giving a small smile.

Though he hated the necessary evil of casualties in combat, even for criminals such as the pirates, Lew gave a small prayer to Elondrie that his men, his friends, were safe. His plan had worked. Then his face turned darker as he gave another prayer.

Today’s plan had gone off without a hitch--but what would tomorrow bring?