“Just get him to come to the table,” Vance said as he walked up to Morgan. “We can sort out the details when… if he agrees.” He walked back, shaking his head. “The damn idiot already cost us so much.”

  “The Fuentes is that one,” Riggs pointed out through the bridge windows to a glowing deck bobbing below. “We have guards on the chains between us, but they can still get by to steal food somehow.”

  “Stealing all our food,” Vance echoed. “Snakes and rats!”

  “Sunrise is in a couple of hours. Is that a good time for the meeting, and where?”

  “The base of the island is fine,” Riggs said pointing to the base of the bridge. “He is allowed to bring three men with him. We will parlay if he will.”

  With a nod, Morgan stepped out onto the balcony around the bridge and then over the railing.

  The Fuentes was lit similarly to the Constitution, but its deck wasn’t as flat. It sat like a squat hill bristling with now useless antennae and weapon barrels. There were two men lounging next to the chains that connected them to the Constitution. They fell over each other as Morgan purposefully thudded onto the deck beside them.

  “I’m here to see Plugger,” he said before they could recover. “I’ll wait right here.” He sat on the angled base of a turret. One man scrambled away. The other moved cautiously into an open door, watching Morgan the whole time.

  A tall, rail-thin man, leading a small group, marched across the deck. They were muttering among themselves.

  “What is it now?” One follower asked.

  “It’s four in the morning!”

  “Who did that crackpot send this time?”

  The procession drew up short when Morgan stood, and they saw him for the first time.

  “Plugger?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t know you,” the thin man said confidently as he nodded. “Did you guys start getting armor from the monsters?”

  “I’m Warden, I flew here from Savannah,” Morgan said. “I am here to talk about a sitdown to discuss your disagreement with Vance.”

  “Captain Vance,” Plugger spat, “is out of his mind. The world ends, we are dead in the water and the idiot sends all the people who can fly to the corners of the earth.”

  Morgan just spread his arms, “It worked. A marine made it to our group and here I am.”

  “Great,” one man behind Plugger said. “A man flew here, what are you gonna do? Push us back to shore?”

  “I brought something,” Morgan said, bringing his pack in front of him.

  “Easy,” the man to the right of Plugger said. He had a hand out, palm up. There were a few slivers of metal floating above his palm, rotating slowly. The points stayed pointed directly at Morgan.

  “This will let you buy food and supplies with your tokens,” Morgan continued, ignoring the man. He pulled another Kiosk from his bag and set it down on the deck.

  “Oh yeah,” Plugger sneered. “We are supposed to just surrender and you will let us buy food?”

  “I don’t care what you do. The Kiosk is yours.” Morgan started floating above the deck. As he rose into the air, he said, “Be at the base of the island of the Constitution at sunrise. You can bring three men. Or don’t. Stay here with this.” Then he was high in the air, heading over to the Stoker.

  The Stoker was a cruiser, larger than the Fuentes and sleeker-looking. Where the bridge should have been, sat a very out of place Victorian mansion. The pitched roof was covered in copper shingles.

  Morgan asked.

  “

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  “

  As he floated, he could see hundreds of zombies and ghouls milling around on the deck. Some wore tattered navy uniforms. Satisfied, Morgan flew back to the Constitution. He sat on top of the bridge, his feet dangling over the side, hundreds of feet above the water. He methodically withdrew and absorbed cores as he watched the growing line of Sailors snake around the deck. Periodic exclamations and cheers arose. He felt a pressure leaving his body.

  Sophia finished for him.

  Morgan nodded to himself as he placed another core into the socket. It was getting warmer and burned his skin when he touched it.

  The status bar appeared. Common 26/50, Uncommon 18/40, Rare 19/30, Epic 12/20, Legendary 2/5, Mythic 1/2.

  Morgan frowned.

  An hour and a half later, Morgan rose and stretched, reaching his hands into the first rays of sunlight as they burned across the sky.

  He had completed a rare, an epic, and another legendary skill and selected:

  ::Legendary - Blood Trail - You can easily track any enemy you have damaged::

  ::Epic - Elemental Overload - Doubles the damage of your next elemental spell::

  ::Rare - Storm bolt - Your next melee attack releases a chain lightning effect::

  The status bar read. Common 43/50, Uncommon 39/40, Rare 2/30, Epic 1/20, Legendary 0/5, Mythic 1/2. He put on his backpack and adjusted the wakizashi before stepping off the bridge and dropping silently to the deck below. He had been watching a four-man group work their way up the chain from the Fuentes, Plugger in the rear.

  They were met with jeers and heckles as they walked the three hundred feet to a large metal table and benches torn from the mess hall. Plugger and his men wearily scanned the crowd as they approached and took seats. Morgan leaned against the island off to the side, watching as Vance and Riggs walked out with two other serious-looking men. The two groups stared daggers at each other as the Captain’s group sat down.

  “Commander Plugger, you…” Vance began, spitting the name. He stopped as the man beside him put a hand on his arm. He took a deep breath and began again more calmly, as though practiced from a script. “Commander Plugger, I’m deeply disappointed by your decision to disobey orders and...” He stopped, unable to continue.

  “Sir,” Plugger responded, “I feel that I was forced to object. With the situation, your orders were dooming the entire crew to death.”

  “That was your opinion!” Vance yelled. “Your option was to use all the lifeboats and head south hundreds of miles to those tiny islands. Then what? Starve on land?” Vance’s face was red and there was a vein on his head.

  “Some of those boats went out. We’ll see how they do.” Plugger said.

  “Oh yes, your valiant coup that killed dozens of sailors. Just to launch a handful of boats.” Vance spat back.

  “Gentlemen,” Riggs interjected. “We should discuss the future, not the past.”

  “Right,” Vance said, smoothing down his collar. “I think signed confessions and confinement in the brig for you and your officers, and we will let you buy food from the system.”

  Plugger scoffed, glancing at Morgan. Shaking his head, he said, “Not a chance. We…”

  “You would doom your men to a slow death?” Vance interrupted. “For your pride?”

  “Hardly. We have our own Kiosk.”

  “WHAT?” Vance erupted, trying to stand but getting caught up on the table and stumbling back down.

  “We don’t need you. You lunatic,” the man beside Plugger said.

  Plugger held up a hand, silencing his aide. “I came to acknowledge that your decision was sound in hindsight, and to see if you had come to your senses. I can see you are still entirely unhinged.”

  “Mutiny is punishable by death,” one of the serious men beside Vance said, standing.

  “Sit down.” Morgan said calmly. “You haven’t negotiated the terms of the truce.”

  The standing man turned his head and spat. “There won’t be a truce, not with this traitor.”

  “Sit. Last warning.” Morgan said.

  The bigger man laughed, “Or what? RoboCop here is going to…”

  The man stopped talking when Morgan flashed in faster than he could see and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the deck with one hand.

  “What the f….” Then he and the man shot into the air. Morgan placed him on top of the bridge, where he had just been sitting. “Stay here.”

  He flashed back to the shadows of the island next to the table. “Anyone else need a warning?”

  No one had moved or said a word.

  Morgan had lost his patience. “Truce! Now. We don’t have the time or the resources to waste on your pissing contest. There are five thousand sailors here who would love to make it back to shore. I will make that happen. With or without you.”

  The stunned silence is broken by a female roar of rage from across the sea, coming from the Stoker.

  “Time is running out. I’ll be back soon. If you don’t talk and fight,” He paused, taking a slow, deep breath. “I’ll kill you all to save these Sailors.” He pivoted slowly. Measuring each with a second of unnerving, silent scrutiny. He let them stare into their reflections on the Faceless Bastion before locking onto the next.

  “Wh…what about Wilson?” Vance said timidly, looking up.

  “He had his warning,” Morgan said dryly. Then he was gone.