The steward of the Blue Locust 2 poked his head out of the porthole, ringing the service bell. "Mess is ready!" he called.
Aralynn along with her party and the crew of the Blue Locust 2 piled into the mess hall. It was of a medium size, around what you'd regularly find for a bigger family. The rectangular table was bolted down to the floor and four long benches were secured along with it, one on each side of the table, with two shorter benches for the short sides.
In the center of the table was a huge iron pot filled with chowder. The sky barnacles that Aralynn had picked off their ship earlier were skewered and placed on sticks in a bucket. Aralynn could see the glistening meat of the limpets that had been scored in hatch patterns to roast. Each member of the crew as well as the party had a spoon, fork, and bowl.
Aside from those there were the usual ration packs laid in their packagings- beef jerky and biscuits. They also had mugs for diluted rum, which they tapped from a barrel resting in a shelf on the wall.
"Sit, sit," Celran said.
The party sat down. Celran breathed out slowly, and subtly the air shifted. The crew of the Blue Locust 2 lowered their heads in unison, solemn and still. The party, unsure whether to follow suit or speak, sat in awkward silence.
"Our lord Zephyr," Celran said, his hat held to his heart, his voice resonant and low. "We thank thee for your blessings as we have left the earth, our mother, and venture into your arms of flight. Most piously do we ask for your blessings upon waking the dawns to come." There was a moment of silence.
Celran laid his tricorne on his lap. "Steward, if you would."
"Aye aye, captain." The steward ladled out the chowder into bowls and carefully tugged one sky barnacle off of the skewers for everyone to start, offering them with their shell down and their almost clam-like underbellies upwards.
The room broke into light conversation. Cozith caught the curious look on Aralynn's face and offered a quiet smile. "Tradition," she murmured. "Zephyr's the god of air- rules the skies above. We give thanks, ask for fair winds. Might sound silly, but... when you're flying through his domain, it's best to stay on his good side. Who knows? Maybe he's always watching."
Including Celran and Cozith, there were 7 members of the Blue Locust 2 in total- Celran as captain, and Cozith as first mate, of course, but also a steward who double-timed as a chef, a helmsman who doubled as the navigator, and three deckhands.
"Ach." Celran sank his teeth into the sky barnacle, tearing off a piece of its tender meat with his powerful jaws. He chewed slowly as if savoring the flavor, eyes half-lidded in contentment. "I hear you're the one who hooked these?" His gaze shifted across the table to Aralynn.
"Yes, Captain," she replied.
"Damn fine work. Only thing I can't stand about flying is the food." He gestured to her plate. "Go on- try yours." With a satisfied slurp, he drained the remaining juices and chucked the empty shell into a nearby bin marked Disposal & Dump.
Aralynn bit into hers. It was mild, slightly sweet, and carried a briny flavour. The texture was airy. It was really good.
The light conversation continued as the crew and party got to know each other by name and exchanged stories. Even though the Blue Locust 2 worked for the Brass Hand, Cyren had asked them to avoid the topic of their last mission.
As the sky dimmed, the steward, a half-orc named Krusk lit liechter ball lanterns, and Celran called for everyone's attention.
"Now, the Brass Hand's assignments are usually on a need-to-know basis. Next morning, we will be entering commercial route 12, which is actively patrolled by imperial forces. My crew is already briefed on this, but I am saying this for your information, as our escorts." He directed this towards the party.
"If we are subject to an inspection, stay calm. Follow our instructions and act like escorts who don't know anything. If we, the crew of the Blue Locust 2, are unavailable, your first priority should be to reach us. If we are truly unavailable, for example, if we were to be incapacitated, your job will be to deny them access to the cargo bay at all costs, or at the very least take them out before they can report the Locust."
Celran's gaze hardened. "Kill them, and toss them overboard, take them prisoner, I don't care. Don't let them touch anything down there, much less seize or report it. The contents of the cargo bay are vitally important to us as the Brass Hand, and we cannot allow them to be taken by the wrong hands. Is that understood?"
"Aye-aye, captain!"
"Good. I bid you all goodnight, then." He stood up, his great coat swishing as he replaced his tricorne hat on his head. "Kursk will show you to your quarters."
- - -
The crew quarters were luckily all single-bed. However, they were rather cramped, with one tiny room right by the next. Each room effectively had space for a single closet that was built into the wall and a bed, along with a tiny leg space between the bed and the door. Aralynn didn't mind this at all; with her time in the army, she'd gotten used to sleeping in all sorts of spaces. Just having a bed was a luxury.
Arlaynn breathed out heavily. There was a single, large porthole with curtains, and as Aralynn stretched, her muscles screamed in protest after the long day. They'd stolen from a devil, and were now flying in the clouds. If Aralynn was asked a couple years ago where she would be, not in a thousand years would she guess where she was now.
She tucked her rapier, cloak, bag, and revolver into the closet before laying down in the bed. The porthole was situated just above where her face would be when she was lying down. Outside, the stars twinkled like playful lights, dancing in an endless sea.
Are you watching me now? Mother? Father? Please keep me safe. I think of you always. Opening her inventory, Aralynn looked at Objection, its dark body a void in the green of the system window.
[Do you wish to withdraw this item? After withdrawal you will no longer be able to replace it into your inventory. Y/N]
She selected [Yes].
Might need you soon, she thought. With a shimmer, the rifle materialized in her hands- sleek, polished, elegant. It was exactly as described. She ran her fingers along its smooth length. Iron sights marked its spine: a rear notch adjustable by elevation, and a front ringed post. She raised it, peering down the sights.
They aligned perfectly and seamlessly.
Aralynn flopped back into her bed, hugging this strange new rifle for what comfort its powerful steel gave.
It's going to be a long day tomorrow.
Aralynn closed her eyes and slowly drifted off into sleep.