Climbing steel stairs, Thulani took in his surroundings. Open-top white plastic bins held machinery components, servers, boxed dry food, liquor, medicine, books, and a wide variety of other contraband. Half a dozen men and a few women sorted through it, taking inventory on a paper ledger.

  "Welcome y'all, to my datcha," JJ said with a grin, flashing a gold tooth. "If it exists in the Seven Seas, we can get it for you."

  "You're smugglers." Thulani scanned the bay, stunned by the size of the operation. Next to him, an industrial elevator groaned to a stop. Socket opened the lift’s gate, allowing Spoke and Piston to push their bikes into the bay.

  "Industrial Contrabandists," JJ corrected, strolling down an aisle; Thulani hurried after him, with Johan trailing lazily behind.

  "Your accent," Thulani said, quickening his pace to keep up. "You're an outsider."

  "Good ear. Of course, it'd be hard to miss since you grew up so isolated. I'm from the NAU." JJ looked over his shoulder but frowned when he saw Thulani's puzzled expression. "You know. The North Atlantic Union? Global superpower? Failed Surface Crusade? Not ringing any bells?"

  Thulani shook his head apologetically.

  "Chort, kid. They really need to work on their hydrography curriculum in school." JJ approached a table near a single cargo decompression doc with paper charts spread out over it.

  A dark man with three vertical tribal scars under each eye looked up and smiled when he saw Thulani.

  "Cthulu," the newcomer said warmly. "I'm honored to meet you finally." He stepped forward, hand extended.

  Thulani accepted it, grimacing slightly at the alias. It served its purpose of anonymity, but in person, the self-appointed nickname felt childish. "Please, call me Thulani."

  "Excellent performance with the Bulletin's broadcast, though I'm afraid you broke poor Sabrina's heart when you ruined her show."

  "You know Sabrina Millis?" Thulani asked, surprised by how familiarly this man referenced Joberg's greatest pop icon.

  JJ snorted. "Kid, this is Thadiwe Joubert, a world-famous opera singer. Next to him, that winny girl is a tone-deff drunk in a Siberian gulag on karaoke night."

  "Very rude to Miss Millis and untrue." Thandiwe chastened. He looked over Thulani's shoulder. "You must be Johan Meer. Vermeulen mentioned you had been taken as well."

  "So Vermeulen organized this?" Thulani asked, suddenly defensive. If these men wanted to hurt him they would have by now. "We didn't need rescuing; they were letting us go!"

  Thandiwe shook his head. "Vermeulen got you out so we could make you disappear. I'm afraid it's too late for you. You've become too dangerous for the council to release."

  "And valuable enough for Vermeulen to use," JJ added. "He has already booked you passage on one of my cargo subs to the Vortex Rider, where you'll meet up with Mandla. Vermeulen needs to buy specs for naval weaponry and nuclear energy and wants you to verify the data."

  "No!" Thulani stepped back, hands raising defensively. "I already told him I'm not leaving Joberg!"

  Thandiwe nodded understandingly. "I don't work for Vermeulen; I'm here for you, Thulani. This city lacks people brave or able enough to oppose the council or the Correl Corsairs. If you don't want to go, I won't let JJ take you. In my opinion, Vermeulen is as bad as any of the other councilmen."

  "Hold on, now," JJ protested. "Vermeulen is a paying customer, and I always deliver my shipments."

  Socket joined the huddle beside Thandiwe, his leather jacket creaking as he folded his arms. "Just tell me where you want to go, and I'll get you there, Thulani. Thandiwe's right. You didn't sign Vermeulen's contract."

  "I want to go home!" Thulani exclaimed. "I want to see my girlfriend and my sister. I want to go back to running a pod or studying systems. Most of all, I just want to know they're safe and cared for." Thulani balled his fists and looked up, breathing deeply. "But things can't go back to how they were, can they?"

  Thandiwe shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but once you cross the line and the council knows who you are, there's no going back."

  "Can I bring them with me?"

  "Trust me," JJ chuckled. "You want to keep your family as far away from an oxygen refinery as possible, especially Pitchmarrow."

  “Then take us somewhere safe! Surely, such places exist. I tried to fight for my home and failed. The next best thing is to start over with my family.”

  JJ considered, stroking the stubble on his chin. “I might be able to relocate you. Assuming you take care of business in Pitchmarrow for Vermeulen.”

  Thandiwe shook his head. “Don’t abandon the fight, Thulani. This is your home.”

  “And look where that got me,” Thulani countered. “Arrested, an outlaw. I was trying to protect them, but I only put them in greater danger.” Thulani considered the prospect of exploring a pirate port with Mandla, a killer. How safe would he be? He remembered Franz, Vermuelan’s original systems tech, coerced into servitude. How was he any different?

  “One more thing,” he said. “I’m bringing my own security.” He turned to Johan. “I mean, if you’ll come with me.”

  Johan cocked his head, considering. “You want me to go with you?” Johan asked.

  “We fought together, we were condemned together, and you’re the baddest Jobergian I know,” Thulani said, meaning each word. “You’re not Vermeulan’s pawn, and I don’t want to be either.”

  Johan folded his arms, standing a little taller. He chuckled humorlessly. “You idiot. Nobody wants to work with me.”

  “I really do, Johan,” Thulani said.

  Johan nodded, his face neutral. “Alright, Bleeksiel, I'll keep you safe."

  Thulani turned to JJ. "We go together or not at all.”

  “Fine,” JJ said.

  Thulani’s brow furrowed. “Why does Vermeulen need a systems tech? You're a smuggler; If it exists in the Seven Seas, you can get it, right? Isn't that your pitch?"

  JJ chuckled sheepishly. "See the thing is, me and mine aren't exactly welcomed at Pitchmarrow anymore. Plus, I move cargo, not verify data."

  "I don't even know if I can," Thulani said. "I'm not a certified tech; I also can't imagine how different systems from other cities might be.

  A dock worker pushed a cart loaded with drives past them into the decomp doc.

  "Well, those drives are the payment," JJ motioned. "Am I sending a tech or not?"

  "What is the payment?" Johan asked.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  JJ shrugged. "I think proprietary specs for the hydrothermal plant."

  "Can you get my family away now?" Thulani asked.

  “When you get back,” JJ promised. “Call it an incentive to work well and fast.”

  Thulani frowned. They’d be defenseless while he was gone. Not that he had done a good job protecting them anyway.

  "I'll see to their needs while you’re gone, Thandiwe said. That's a promise."

  Thulani's hands trembled, but he looked at the decomp doc. Leave Joberg? Commit himself to the ocean? Could he work for Vermeulen's chief enforcer? Thulani's palms slicked with sweat. "How long will the trip take?"

  "A week and a half one way. However long it takes you to secure the package, a week and a half back. I used to plan on a month-long journey when I was allowed there," JJ said.

  Thulani nodded. “Get my family away from Joberg, and I’ll do it.”

  “If you’re abandoning joberg,” Thandiwe said. “Would you mind if I assumed the mantle of Cthulu?”

  Thulani paused momentarily. “You want Cthulu? Why?”

  Thandiwe stroked his chin thoughtfully. “With your escape, Mr. Vermulen will draw the scrutiny of the council. As Cthulu, I may be able to divert it.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust Vermeulen,” Thulani said.

  Thandiwe leaned over the table. “I don’t, but he believes we can win like many of us. You may not realize it, but your broadcast started something. Every civilian can easily access the proof that the council ordered their execution. Mandla saved civilians who witnessed gangsters protect them when the police hid. Things are changing, Thulani.”

  “You can be Cthulu,” Thulani said. “I never wanted to be him anyway.”

  "Tick-tock," JJ said, rubbing his eyes. "We need to leave like yesterday."

  "Do you have a pen?" Thulani asked. "I want to write a letter to my family.

  Thulani wrote on yellow seaweed-based paper. The cargo sub-hummed around him as it shuttled him to the Vortex Rider.

  Olivia, Nandi, I wouldn't blame you if you tore this up without even opening it. I've been an idiot, and I know that. I blamed the council for not consulting the people and taking drastic measures into their own hands, and I know that's exactly what I've done with you both.

  I will always fight for you, but I need to provide for you as well, so I took a job away from the city. Not with a nomatic outsider but a real city. Yes, they exist.” Don't worry, I'll be back soon. If this letter reaches your hands, show it to no one and destroy it. Officially, I'm wanted, but I'm working on making things right.

  Nandi, I know Mom ran off with an outsider, but don't fear as I tell you I'm leaving the colony. I swear I'll return, hopefully within the month. I have friends who will take care of you now.

  Olivia, Hartlam, I love you so much and always think about you. Please forgive me; I know I won't forgive myself. I will always fight for you and the baby, but I never wanted to hurt you.

  Thulani smiled and wiped blurry eyes.

  I'm officially going into systems. I know it's early, and I don't have a license yet, but I'm ready. I know this isn't what you imagined, but we're still following our plan. Stay healthy and safe. I'll be back to help with the pregnancy before you know it.

  For your safety and mine, I can't say more. I love you; I need you, and I will always fight for you.

  Yours always, Thulani.

  A tear splashed onto the page, and Thulani sniffed, wiping his eyes again, then folded the letter into thirds.

  Johan cried out victoriously, standing over a plastic bin, and Thulani tried his best to regain composure.

  Johan produced a stingray leather jacket from the bin and threw it on. The hide, textured with tiny polished bumps like dark pearls, stretched tightly around his shoulders. Johan had abandoned his patient uniform and now wore boots, dark trousers, and a loose white shirt. The only thing he retained from the hospital was the neck brace, which probably ruined the look he was going for.

  "Prepare to dock," the pilot, one of JJ’s contrabandists named Dima, called from the control cabin.

  Thulani hurried to the front and gasped when he saw that the control cabin supported an observation window, probably made from synthetic sapphire or borosilicate glass, fused to a titanium housing.

  Ocean particles like white specs scattered and absorbed the powerful bow spotlights.

  A vague shape materialized at the edge of the haze like a mythical leviathan.

  "This must be what a krill feels like when it sees a whale," Johan muttered as he entered the chamber.

  "It's so big," Thulani muttered.

  "That is a destroyer class warship," their Dima said, sharing JJ's hybrid accent. He wore an old-fashioned blue ball cap.

  A radio crackled on the control panel. 'Approaching contact, this is Lieutenant Botha of the Vortex rider. What's your call sign and cargo?'

  Dima hit the Push To Talk. "Vortex Rider, this is Bus Boy, delivering a systems tech and an additional passenger."

  'Good copy, Bus Boy. We aren't expecting an additional passenger.'

  Dima hit the PTT. "Last minute addition to the manifest."

  The replay took a few seconds.

  'Proceed to cargo dock.'

  "Good copy."

  The cargo sub drifted past the grey hull, lights briefly illuminating a painted emblem of a sword pointing down through a corral crown.

  A hatch opened on the sub’s side, revealing an empty socket—likely designed for an assault pod. Instead tube-like bridge extended from the portal, ending in a universal connector.

  The sub swayed as the bridge connected.

  "Well, boys," Dima shifted in his seat. "This is your stop."

  "Thanks," Thulani said, turning but remembering the letter in his hand.

  "Wait, can you get this to Thandiwe?" He extended the folded sheet. "He'll know what to do with it.

  "Sure thing." Dima accepted it.

  "Let's move," Johan said, striding for the main decomp doc.

  Thulani's gut tightened in apprehension, but he followed, pushing the cart loaded with drives that would act as payment for weapons specs.

  Passing through the hatch, the pair crossed into the war sub's decomp doc. Thulani sealed it.

  Once a green light flashed, the inside hatch wheel spun and swung out, revealing three backlit figures.

  On the left, a wide-framed man wearing the dry version of a Corral Corsair uniform studied them curiously.

  On the right, Thulani vaguely recognized a light brown man with freckled skin and nearly red, coiled hair. Thulani had never interacted with the man, but he tended to remember unique features in a city as small as Joberg.

  Standing in the front, Mandla—bruiser, and chief enforcer for Mr. Vermeulen. Thulani swallowed.

  "Welcome aboard the Vortex rider," Mandla said, offering a hand as if this was the first time he had seen Thulani. "I'm Mandla; I'm in command here."

  Thulani cautiously accepted it. "I know who you are. I guess I'm your systems tech."

  "I was expecting Frans," Mandla said.

  Thulani raised an eyebrow as he remembered encountering the tech in his cell. "Frans most definitely switched sides."

  "Really? And who's this?" Mandla turned to Johan.

  "Johan. He's with me."

  "About time, I'm Stefanus," the light-brown man said. "We were about to cast off without you.”

  "Thulani."

  "We'll show you to the crew quarters," Mandla said. He pinched a receiver on his lapel. "Botha disconnect from their ride and set sail."

  They passed by two dozen sailors as Mandla led them to a low-ceilinged bunk room with twenty-five bunks. "I'm afraid the private quarters are sparse as I've converted them into infirmary beds. But you have plenty of empty bunks to choose from."

  "That's fine," Thulani said, taking the wide bay in. "I've seen a lot of sailors so far; I don't remember you bringing this many onboard." He thought back to when Mandla’s war party commandeered an assault pot.

  Mandla's lips twitched downwards. "Yes, the majority of our crew are former raiders."

  "I can vouch for most of the ones who have free access to the ship,” The white man offered. "If you see anything suspicious or unusual, report it to me."

  Thulani looked at this second officer and then realized this man must have been a Coral Corsair. "You mean we're sharing space with them?"

  Johan stepped forward, grinning, apparently coming to the same conclusion. "I was hoping they saved some of you for me. I haven't tasted pirate blood in what feels like weeks." He puffed his chest and stepped into the Corsair officer's space challengingly.

  "Easy there, neckbrace," Stefanus said. "Francois is one of the good ones."

  "Johan," Mandla put a hand on Johan's shoulder, and Johan glared at the unwelcome contact.

  Thulani shied away from the pair, not wanting to hop into a cage with sharks.

  "The raiders you see are now my men. If you antagonize them, you will answer to me."

  Johan met Mandla's eyes, considering, then snorted and stepped back. "While we're setting expectations, let's get this straight. I'm not one of your gangsters or wannabe soldiers. I'm here with Thulani. Boss me around, and I'll show you antagonism."

  Mandla's jaw bulged. "This is my ship. Give me a reason, and you'll enjoy a private suit in the brig."

  Johan turned back on Francois. "If your men even smell like treachery, I won't report them to you. I'll give you their heads on a plate."

  Thulani glanced from Francois to Johan and then to Mandla. What had he gotten himself into? Sailing from his home in a warship crawling with raiders and a Johan—Mandla power struggle that could turn into all war before day's end. No big deal, right?

  END OF PART 2