The rest of the day passed by in a hardly memorable blip. Piper's superior was an older and rather talkative sailor by the name of Azariah Crabb. Crabb was thin and frail looking when held in comparison to the other members of the crew. He stood with a stooped hunch in one shoulder. A wisp of snow white hair crowned the top of his head, hidden only by his mariner's cap, and complimented by a peppered, close and crude shaven beard. He walked Piper through a typical day on board, which included the mopping of each and every deck, doing the laundry, tidying the cabins, assisting the ship's cooks gather ingredients from storage, and routine maintenance throughout the entire vessel.
"In the event of a battle, which I have seen quite a few aboard the ol' Lockjawe, mind you, we's also responsible for sweepin' out the cannons an takin' inventory afterwards - plus or minus the odd jobs we might get." he chuckled gleefully, as Piper learned he did often. Although she never found anything he said quite funny enough to manage more than a smile, much less find it of any interest.
After going through a run of every expected chore and seeing how Piper caught on rather speedily, Azariah set to a steady hum of familiar maritime melodies, and was even bold enough at times to whistle, or to sing a few verses of half forgotten songs in his old and cracking voice.
All the while Piper was drowning in a flood of her own thoughts. There was anger, yes, and resentment as well; at Azariah's ceaseless mirth, Captain Tartan's crude manner and stoic decision, Prescott's lack of faith in her ability, the foolishness and absurdity of her previous commanding officer as a soldier, and even at her mother for…
Her memory flashed back to her Uncle's frequent rages, and her mother's more frequent tears. She didn't finish the thought.
Piper calmed herself down after that, turning her thoughts to more practical matters in the realm of what could be immediately controlled.
Besides She told herself. It wasn't her fault, even if it wasn't fair.
So what was within her control? She had been a soldier for nearly five years and served on a number of domestic missions. She had been transferred to the Navy as a punishment for disobeying orders, though it was more so to save an ignorant Captain's wounded pride the way that she saw things.
Irrelevant
But she had been a good soldier; she was timely, reliable, and professional. Sure it was true enough that there had been many occasions on which she had taken matters into her own hands, but was that not the makings of a good leader? Were the abilities to quickly understand a situation and make a snap decision based on limited information some of the very traits that her instructors at Brackendow had drilled into her head time and time again?
A good soldier follows orders, a good leader knows when those orders must be broken. All soldiers should meet this standard.
Piper had not only met the standard, she had regularly strived to exceed the standards set before her, so why was she now being punished? There was no logical solution her brain could compute, unless…
This is a test, not a punishment, It had dawned on her, but a test for what?
With this newfound reasoning, the harsher waves of emotion subsided until there was naught more than an ebbing tide of disappointment and self doubt.
Is menial labor all they really think I'm good for? She snorted bitterly to herself, slapping a mop down into a bucket of murky water in the cabin she was scrubbing down, before yanking it out again. The dreams of a fool to join the Skyfleet in a mere three roats. Once a soldier, now I'm being led 'round a ship like a primary school field trip.
At the day's end, Azariah cheerfully invited Piper to join at his table for supper along with the other swabbies - which she none-so-cheerfully declined. She stayed only long enough to snag some bread and head to her cabin early for some peace and quiet. Despite her irritation at the assigned position, Piper was more exhausted than she'd felt in a long time; the many duties as a swab had taken their toll on her muscles over the hours until they had settled into a dull ache, and she gratefully claimed the top left bunk. It was her favorite bunk from her training days, as the ship cabin was incredibly similar to her room at Brackendow Ridge - in the fact that it was incredibly compact and held four people, with just enough storage room for the bare essentials.
Almost as soon as she had thrown herself onto the stiff mattress, Piper could feel herself nodding off, and no sooner did she close her eyes than the cabin door was thrust open. A trio of women made their way into the room whilst noisily shuffling their belongings. A flicker of thought told Piper she was too tired to get up, but the curiosity at who she would be in such close acquaintance with in the coming weeks got the better of her. She forced her legs to swing over the edge of the bunk, sitting up with her eyes closed, and walloping her head into the piping above with an audible thunk.
"Ash TAKE it that hurts!" she swore, rubbing her forehead and letting her bleary eyes adjust as she caught the noise of a stifled giggle.
When she could see clearly, Piper recognized Emeline's strawberry hair and immediately knew the source - but her eyes were quickly drawn to another individual. In between Emeline and another smaller girl was a hulking figure that Piper could have mistaken for a man even if she were not on the brink of exhaustive collapse. The woman was most certainly over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that stretched her uniform. Her brown hair was not unlike Piper's, except that it was cut much shorter than even Piper's crisp militia style. She had to be at least ten years' Piper's senior, and a match in pure mass for Captain Tartan himself. Her face was rounded, scarred, and molded into a permanent looking scowl.
Piper was caught staring, and rewarded with a snarl. "Ya moost've bonked yerself a wee too hard, get to fixin' yer eyes somewhere else. Ye'll get use to the bunking soon enough."
Then, turning to the two girls beside her, "Get yerselves unpacked an spare only a moment er two for introductions if it's on yer minds, but then be gettin sleep, call's at 0500."
While this strange woman was most certainly Animaerisian, the accent suggested a region to the far north and was one Piper could definitely not place.
Emeline smiled warmly despite the look of her own exhaustion, and began to unpack her things onto the bunk beneath Piper's.
"A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Miss. Raddendale," said Emeline, holding out her hand in mock formality.
Piper's weariness wore off just enough to return the gesture. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss…?"
"Hopperton," she said, and they shook.
"How was training?" Piper inquired much more casually than she felt, to which Emeline beamed.
"Incredible!" she gasped, "It was a little worrisome at first getting a handle of all the gadgets and such, but I'll be learning with a few others, and most of the time I'm top deck so it's great to feel a part of all the action, what of yours?"
"Oh, the mopping was a right blast, though scrubbing the head was my favorite part," Piper answered, a sarcastic smile playing on the corners of her mouth as she leaned backwards on the loft.
Emeline looked stricken as she realized all that she had said, and embarrassment hit her immediately. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Piper waved it off.
"It is boring and grueling and demeaning - but if that's what it takes to move forward, then that is what I'll do," she shrugged,
Even as she spoke those uncertain words, she found conviction in them.
"I must have missed you at supper."
"I didn't stick around very long," Piper answered casually.
"You should have! Captain Tartan gave some interesting reports."
Emeline hesitated, choosing her words carefully.
"Reports that shed some insight on what our purpose is so far outside our own waters."
Once again, Piper shrugged. "Not as if such matters pertain to my duties."
"Ya wernt tha first ta start off a swab, girl," chimed the barbarish woman from before, who stretched her arms out above her head after clunking down her belongings.
She gave a pencil thin grin. "It surely is all the terrible things ya said it were, but keep yer eyes open, ya might pick up a thing er two."
Piper couldn't see what the woman meant, but she had made enough sense of things for one day and was just simply grateful for the camaraderie - as foreign as it was, it was far better than listening to Azariah's whistled shanties.
"I'm Piper," said she, introducing herself, which earned her a boarish laugh.
"I know 'xactly who y'are, along with tha rest a tha crew, Raddendale! Ya put on quite a show with Tartan earlier - yer lucky he wasn't of mind ta throw ya overboard hisself. I'm Olivian Grestley, third Engineer 'board this vessel. While in thess room, yer all my wards."
Emeline smiled at Olivian, who she had spoken to for a short time prior to arriving, and after a moment, they all turned to the fourth girl, who had been quietly sitting in Olivian's shadow and unpacking her scant personal items.
Piper had noticed upon the entry of her roommates that this newcomer was quite petite compared to all the other sailors she had encountered thus far. Not only in size and height, but Piper was fairly certain the girl must have been her junior by at least four years. Her appearance struck Piper as sloppy; a tangle of untrimmed, long black hair curled down past her shoulders - an odd color for Animaerisians.
While Piper conversed with Emeline and Olivian, the girl quietly went about her business in an unbothered fashion. Not troubling to interject, she gracefully climbed the metal ladder, crawled under the covers of the top bunk, and closed her eyes. It was only after the general discussion died down that Olivian noticed that one of the beds had been claimed.
"I s'pose that makes me bottom. Never fancied climbin' anyhow. Enough chit-chattin', it's time for some shut eye." With that, the lanterns that hung by each bunk were extinguished, and Piper settled in for her first rocky night out at sea.