Underneath a Drowned Sun
Marina ducked into an alley, hoping that she evaded the nearby Drowned Sun patrol. She melted into the shadows, taking advantage of the bright lantern at the street corner to blind her potential pursuers. It was nearing morning but there was still a few hours yet until sunrise, with a low fog already starting to form over the water of the harbor. She breathed heavily, exhaustion settling in.
Marina was tired of losing friends.
Ever since that bitch Margeaux had burned down the Rusty Anchor with a dozen of her crewmates inside, Marina had been on the run. She could still smell the smoke on her clothes, and she had only survived the ambush because Tevin had pushed her into the escape tunnel. She’d been the lucky one, as the poor bastard had been speared into place before he could follow. The Drowned Sun had barred the doors and set the blaze as a message to any that would dare stand against the new occupation of Drywater. She could still hear the screams when she tried to get a few fitful hours of sleep at night.
It was getting harder and harder to find a sympathetic citizen in Drywater, as most of the loyal Junkerpunks had fled to Bravado after the Red Riot. She knew a few of her crew had to have survived and came back, but everyone knew the Mortis was untrustworthy here. If they didn’t get caught in some kind of terrible hellscape inside, then Margeuax’s pet grave robber Capricorn would retrieve them before they could recover. She had heard tales of the shit that went down in the blackened keep Margeaux Latiche had claimed as her homebase, and shuddered at the thought.
She drew in a breath and tried to stay still as the patrol passed by the alleyway. There were four of them, and she could see the telltale tattoo of the black sun on one of them. Definitely not a group she could talk her way past. Even if she tried to draw a few away with a distraction, they’d have enough left to prevent her from escaping into the street. She moved her hand quietly to her blade, hoping that it wouldn’t come to blows. She wasn’t a slouch when it came to a fight, but if even one of them got away to sound the alarm, one of the more dangerous pirates under Captain Margeaux might respond. Stealth would be the best way to live till morning.
She let a few dozen heartbeats pass before she felt comfortable moving again, finding a place where she could get to the roof of the nearby building. Her left ankle was still a bit tender from the fall a few hours ago, but it was still safer trying to move across Drywater by avoiding the streets. The Drowned Sun were fairly disciplined about keeping large enough patrols moving along the main thoroughfares, but only a fool would try to move about the rickety buildings of the port across the rooftops. Luckily, Marina was exactly that foolish.
She darted past a line of laundry hung from the top window of the building she ascended, scrambling up a shitty scrap metal slope, before building enough momentum to make it to the nearby building. She winced as her gear scraped the metal and groaned as she landed on her hurt leg. She hissed, and tried to stifle the noise of her pain. It sounded like a cacophony to her, and she was more embarrassed than anything. She hid for a few moments in the shadows of her landing point, hoping that she didn’t wake up any nosy civilians. She brushed off a bit of rust from her leggings, and kept moving.
The next few jumps were a bit easier, as the buildings here were packed together. Sailors were a superstitious lot, but few seemed to worry about fire risks by building too close. They’d trust some silly omen with seabirds, but no one wanted to try to set common sense fire codes. Laws like that infringed on their freedom, or something like that. The fire at the Anchor had taken out another four tenements before they got it under control. Margeuax had blamed it on a bar fight or some shit, but everyone knew the truth. As long as the Drowned Sun was in control, it was in your best interest to keep your head down and your mouth shut.
She’d had hoped more of the townsfolk would be outraged by the depravities of the recent Red Riot, but shockingly few people had the courage to do anything. For sailors that said they valued freedom over all else, they were certainly quick to accept the status quo. As long as the person being strung up by Br’er, Capricorn, or one of the other Drowned Sun cronies wasn’t someone you directly bunked with, it wasn’t your problem. It was demoralizing seeing so many just roll over for the occupation.
There were whispers, of course. Maybe some of those hadn’t gone so willingly into the employ of the Drowned Sun. Margeaux was known for tampering with the minds of people that ended up in her clutches. A few implanted memories here, a suggestion there, and even one of your trusted mates could end up turning on you. No one wanted to risk getting a loved one turned into some mindfucked automaton, so you stayed quiet. Psionics were a messy business, but the worst parts weren’t those mind-controlled traitors, but the ones that celebrated the takeover without needing to be controlled through telepathy.
Marina had known Sinker Swim, the defacto leader of the Junkerpunks, was losing popularity, but she was shocked by how many were ready to switch sides on purpose. Sure, the Junkerpunks had lost a lot during the war when they had to leave the Clutch, but Drywater had been a salvation for the faction. Coupled with the salvage rights to the Facility underneath Bravado won from the RRC, there’d been good trade and flowing brass for many. Marina thought Sinker was a bit of a Vado-phile, but they’d always done right by her. But Margeaux still had popular support that wasn’t forced to back her through psionic manipulation. Even some of the Muddy Water folks, Sinker’s own people, had carried Margeaux’s flag in the riot. There were still a few left in town that were friendly to the resistance, though. It wasn’t hopeless yet.
A few more jumps carried towards her destination, a safehouse where she’d meet up with Azure, a sailmaker that she’d worked with before, and kept warm on a few cold nights before the riot. It would be nice to see her again. She gazed out across the tightly packed buildings towards the harbor, counting the Drowned Sun frigates that were anchored nearby. Enough firepower to end any ship that arrived unannounced. Marina had heard the JP in Bravado were trying to build a few more ships to replace those lost in the escape from Drywater, but the Burning Season had kept the work to a crawl. It was hard to get a message out lately, but she hoped the rumors were true.
The shallow waters of the lake were littered with a dozen or more vessels that had been scuttled the night Margeaux claimed the city, and Marina had lost a few friends there too. It had been a bloody night, but to her deep shame she’d missed most of it to a drunken stupor, curled up in a bar unconscious. It was still a shock to have your world turned upside down so fast, and Marina knew she was still a bit traumatized. She’d idly dreamed of a time where she’d have the energy to unpack it all, but survival demanded her push it back down and keep focused on the task at hand.
Marina slid down a drainage pipe at her destination, the rough metal grasping at her gloves as she descended. She cursed a bit at a cut on her thumb from a sharp burr, and wiped a smear of blood away. Maybe one of the sympathizers would be a sawbones or medic. She could use someone to take a look at the wound on her leg, or hope they had some kind of healing balm they could spare for a friend.
There was a small door in the back alley she could use to sneak inside, and Azure had told her it wouldn’t be locked. She ducked behind cover as she hit the ground, looking for anyone that might have noticed her approach. Once she was satisfied the coast was clear, she moved to the door and made a few quick raps with the pommel of her knife. The code was simple enough, but it would let those inside know it wasn’t an enemy.
Marina slid quietly into the building, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside. She envied the Lascarians a bit with how easy they got around in the dark. She stumbled over something on the ground, but her sailor’s sense of balance kicked in. She hoped no one had noticed her clumsy entry. Azure would give her no mercy if she messed up the shop. The door hadn’t been locked as promised, and she expected most of the rebels inside would be sleeping still. There should have been someone on watch though. Sloppy.
Hackles rising on her neck, Marina slowly drew her knife and examined her surroundings. Her Baywalker sixth sense had always served her well, but she was still a bit nervous. This was Azure’s shop and a familiar place of safety, she reminded herself. Finding a new safe house was always dangerous in the resistance against the Drowned Sun, but she hated having to ask this kind of favor from her friend.
The sailmaker’s shop had several large rolls of fabric that created a bit of a maze to navigate, the tough canvas favored by the swift Junkerpunk ships stretched across frames in the cramped quarters. In the shadows, she could barely make out bundles of fabric strapped to the walls nearby, ready for shipment to the next customer.
Stepping over a puddle of spilled dye at a workstation near the stairs to the second floor, Marina crept past a workbench and sewing station and whispered out Azure’s name. She hoped someone was still up and had heard her signal. If they hadn’t, they might have already hidden away in case it was a random search by Margeaux’s people.
There was movement at the front of the shop, and a young woman emerged from behind the counter, a well maintained rifle in her hand. The Merican had vibrant blue hair, her signature style matching her sailor’s name, and she wore a set of tattered overalls that were stained with dozens of different colors of dyes used in her work. It was an eclectic look, but a welcome one. Azure herself had been the one on watch, and she smiled broadly as she recognized Marina. Marina brightened, her heart beating faster as she approached her lover, sheathing her weapon.
“I was worried you wouldn’t make it before dawn. The patrols have been tighter lately.” She shouldered her weapon, and motioned Marina closer. She was finally safe.
“I’m slippery, don’t worry about me. Those Sunless fucks walked right past me.” Marina smirked, and sighed a bit as she relaxed. She embraced Azure, holding her tight and leaning into her. Maybe she could get a few hours of sleep upstairs after all. Or maybe not, if she was lucky. As Marina held her closer, Azure seemed to notice her favoring one side. She pulled away and with a look of worry rustled behind the counter and produced a murky bottle. She lit a small candle nearby, and motioned for Marina to sit, fussing over her injured leg.
“You’re hurt. It’s not much, but it’ll take the edge off,” Azure explained as she offered the brew. Marina gladly accepted the help, and took a swig of the bottle. She found a stool nearby and took a seat, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. Marina unbuckled her coat to relax, and leaned back against the counter. It had been a long night.
“Where are the others, Azure?” She took another long draw of the brew, feeling the burn of the whiskey at the back of her throat. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been running tonight, and her muscles ached. She gazed appreciatively at Azure as her partner tried to tidy up the counter a bit. She always was a bit self conscious about a mess, but it was adorable.
“They are upstairs with our new friend, of course.” Azure smiled fondly, a strange glint in her eyes visible in the candle’s dim glow. Something seemed off, suddenly. Marina felt a thought forming, but it felt distant, as if cloaked in a thick fog. What was wrong?
Marina sluggishly snapped to attention at the comment as her brain finally processed what the Merican had said. “What friend, Azure?”, she asked worriedly, her words slurred.
A glow emerged from a stairway, as if on cue, as she heard a pair of footsteps descending from above. The thumps of boots on the wooden stairwell were casual, the effortless sway of a veteran sailor. Marina’s throat caught as the hooded lantern illuminated the room, a deadly looking black-clad pirate emerging into the downstairs workshop. She could see the prominent mark of the Drowned Sun, the black sun half submerged under a wave, on their exposed forearm. The dusky-skinned pirate was splattered with blood, crimson spots gleaming wetly on their dark jacket.
The light brought into stark illumination the grisly scene in the shop. How tired had she’d been to miss that? What Marina had thought was spilled dye was a pool of blood, seeping from a mangled body that she stumbled over by the door. One of the rebels she recognized was mounted to the wall by several thick iron spikes, lifeless eyes pierced by the two deadly spikes that had killed him. He had died miserably, dozens of knife wounds marking the poor rebel’s skin, signs of torture and worse. Why had the bodies not sunk? Marina tried to stand and draw her weapon, but felt her limbs suddenly heavy, as she struggled to even move.
Br’er Lapin, the sadistic right hand of Captain Margeaux Latiche, smiled devilishly, the pointed Semper Mort’s teeth sparking in the low light. They were bathed in gore, and licked a long wicked blade as they lazily approached. There was a river of blood visible now on the steps, signs of the foul work that had been done upstairs. Marina stumbled, scattering bottles from the counter, fear crawling under her skin as her body was unable to do what she wanted. She glanced at the murky bottle Azure had given her, and realized her fatal error. Azure smiled happily nearby, seemingly unbothered by Marina’s drugged state or the approaching pirate.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Marina. Azure has told me so much about you. Your friends upstairs had so many interesting things to share before…well, you know.” B’rer took each step towards her purposefully with an evil grin, reveling in the terrified look in Marina’s eyes. A predator, moving in for the kill. Marina struggled to move or even say anything – her tongue felt like cotton, and her eyelids were heavy. Her leaden arms fumbled, trying fitfully to reach something, anything that could help. Her half-drawn knife clattered to the floor, useless.
“Azure, darling, won’t you make sure our guest is comfortable? I’m sure the Captain will be along shortly to help our new friend see the error of her ways…” Br’er grinned as they kicked away the blade. The Semper Mort moved close, drinking in Marina’s terror.
Azure hummed to herself as collected the remaining weapons on Marina’s belt, and removed the hidden injectable in her boot. Of course she’d known about that one, she’d even removed that boot a time or two. Azure had been one of the good ones, and the betrayal hurt more than the poison slowly paralyzing Marina. She’d provided a place to stay, food when she’d been hungry, and she’d been something more than a friend. As the drowsiness settled in, Marina thought that the heart break might be more deadly than the torture that was surely in her future.
Marina was well and truly fucked.
