“True, I’m afraid,” Laggart said. Then he turned the gun and shot Salay in the thigh.
Ann screamed and Fort lunged forward to try to grab Laggart—but he stopped short when he saw a second pistol pointed right at him.
“Captain didn’t say anything about bringing the other three of you up alive,” Laggart said. “So now, Fort. Can you read what I’m saying, or does the gun speak loudly enough for you?”
The large man froze, but Ann ignored the gun, kneeling and using her handkerchief to bind Salay’s wound.
Tress felt helpless. Ann finished the binding, but then looked up, uncertain. They needed Ulaam. It was bleeding so much…
“Up on deck,” Laggart said to them, backing away and gesturing toward the steps. A few gawking Dougs hurried past, feet thumping on the wood.
“She’s bleeding!” Tress said.
“Not as much as she would be with another hole in her,” Laggart said. “Up.”
Fort gently pushed Ann to the side, then lifted Salay, who put her arms around his neck. She nodded to Tress, grimacing at the pain. Ann glared at Laggart, her hands bloody. He just smiled and wagged the pistol’s tip.
Reluctantly, Tress led the way, and the five of them emerged on deck. The Crimson Moon hung ominous in the night sky, pouring spores down in a vast haze—like the misty sheet of rain you might get beneath clouds on another planet. Here, the bright moonlight made them shimmer like tiny drops of glistening blood.
Crow stood framed beneath the moon, her shadow breaking the red light. Dougs gathered on either side of the deck, leaving an open space in the center for the captain—and the four mutineers. Fort settled Salay down, and she held a firm hand on her bound wound. The other three huddled around her. Laggart came up behind them, then climbed up onto the quarterdeck where he had a good view of—and line of sight on—all of them.
“So,” Crow said, “you lot want to take my ship away from me, do you? Mutiny against your own?”
None of the four responded.
“Honestly,” Crow said, “I didn’t think you had it in you—considering how I had to force you lot into this life.” She waved, and a Doug hurried forward, setting a small table onto the deck between them.
“I’m impressed,” Crow said, slipping a pistol out of her belt and setting it on the table. A second followed. Then a third. “Consider me a…proud parent. But it makes me wonder. How many on this ship truly respect their captain?”
Fort was watching his board. He tapped a few words on the back. No one respects you, Crow. They do what you say because they fear the spores in your blood.
“Now, I thought you were the smart one, Fort,” Crow said. “It’s not the spores they fear. It’s me. Isn’t that right, crew?” She scanned the Dougs, most of whom backed away beneath her glare. “I do have to hand it to you, Tress. I—”
“Hand?” Dr. Ulaam said, perking up at the back of the crowd. “I have—”
“Shut up, Ulaam,” Crow growled, not turning toward him. She kept Tress’s eyes. “I knew I’d eventually have to deal with Salay, maybe Fort. But you gave me all of them in a neat package, with proof of their treachery.” She gestured toward the table. “Well, let’s get on with it. An old-fashioned duel. Three pistols. The four of you—well, three, as I see Salay is grappling with the result of her arrogance—against me.”
“Hardly fair,” Ann said. “Your spores will stop any bullets we fire at you.”
“Don’t fire them at me then,” Crow said, gesturing toward the quarterdeck. “Kill Laggart before I deal with the three of you, and I’ll step down as captain.”
“Captain?” Laggart said, stepping to the edge of the rail.
“Put your pistol away, Laggart,” Crow shouted. “And stand there like a good target.”
“But…” He trailed off as he realized that yes, she was that callous. He slowly put away his pistol.
“Well?” Crow said. “This wasn’t a negotiation. I’m not making an offer. It’s an ultimatum.”
Fort moved first, leaping for the guns. Crow kicked the leg out from the table—scattering the weapons to the deck—then surged forward and slammed her elbow into Fort’s face. Tress had never heard anything quite like the crunch that made. The sharp crack of breaking cinnamon sticks mixed with the dull thud of tenderizing a gull’s breast.
The sound shocked her, made her acknowledge what was happening. She’d been in a daze, but now she leaped for the deck, trying to snatch one of the guns. In the chaos, she lost track of what was happening—though I had an excellent view. Crow vaulted over Fort as he held his face, then slapped Salay’s hand—she’d tried crawling to one of the guns.