Gundam SEED Fan Fiction ❯ Mobile Suit Gundam SEED: Odyssey of Altair ❯ Enter the Altair ( Chapter 1 )

"We extort, we pilfer we filch and sack
Maraud and embezzle and even hijack
We're rascals, scoundrels villains, and knaves
A pirate's life for me."
-famous pirate chant from the 1700s

Chapter 1: Enter the Altair

Four months and four years have passed since the final battle at the Genesis cannon. While the Earth Alliance and PLANT enjoy a long awaited peace, in between the vestages of human settlement of space lies the space battleship Altair. A mighty Izumo-class, little would one realize that it houses one of the most professed crew of "freelancers" to travel the Earthsphere.

"Damn it, I can't believe I lost again!" one of the operators shouted, gripping his slicked-back red hair in frustration.

"Marko, don't raise your voice," the young girl at the console next to him begged.

"Tilly, the Captain's off taking a crap, I have to kill time somehow. This game makes no sense whatsoever," Marko complained to the girl, giving his console screen a dirty look as it flashed the text "Game Over".

"Both of you should be doing your jobs, not playing games, you know," a woman dressed in an OMNI female officer's uniform said from behind them.

"Aw, come on, Lyn, we have plenty of time until we reach Freeport 7," Marko begged, standing up from his seat and stretching out. He was clad in a white dress shirt, brown vest, and brown khaki pants down to his strangely chosen black combat boots. "I need to take a leak myself. Be right back."

"You better come right back, mister! No 'dropping by' anywhere to bother anyone!" Lyn said sternly.

"Yeah, yeah, nag, nag," Marko said casually as he left out the door in the back of the bridge.

Lyn sighed and held her forehead against the palm of her hand.

"Don't be so mad at him, after all, we're pirates, right? We're not suppose to have any sort of form of discipline," Tilly, a girl with long purple hair, said. She giggled as she rotated her chair around to face Lyn. She was wearing a white blouse and red tube skirt, her brown eyes shining in the bridge's light.

"But even pirates punish those that don't obey orders, Tilly. To be honest, I wouldn't mind having Marko walk 'the plank'...right out into absolute zero, that is," Lyn said, tossing some of her long, dark green hair back off her shoulder and cast her dark blue eyes to the front. "And what about you, mister? Sleeping on the job again?" she said in a raised voice.

A kid seemingly in his early teens stirred in his seat behind the "steering wheel" of the ship. He leaned his head to one side of the seat, letting his long black hair drop a little while clearing his short bangs from his eyes. "What? I was just resting my eyes," he whined, his light blue eyes raised to Lyn as she glared at him from the top of the bridge. He wore a combination of a dark blue shirt and shorts, sandals as his footwear.

"Rouri, stop nodding off. You have to steer this thing!" Lyn commanded.

"I can't help it, I have nothing to do when this thing is on autopilot," Rouri said, half sarcastic and continuing his whine. He sat back in his seat and rested his hands in his lap.

Lyn sighed again and paced back and forth slowly. "As much as I'd hate to admit it, it is rather dull around here just cruising towards port."

"You can say that again. We're all going insane with boredom," a young man's voice said as he walked through the door in the back. He had short, dark brown hair with slightly lighter brown highlights. From head to toe he wore a black leather coat, green shirt, and loose blue pants with brown boots.

"Mayer, this is a surprise. Usually you never wake up until later," Lyn said with a smile, turning around to face him.

"I can't sleep," Mayer said plainly. "The lounge TV is right behind my bed and Vale is playing something in there."

"Well, it's good you're up, you can do some oddjobs around here since you must have nothing better to do," Lyn said, smiling smugly. "You can starty by cleaning up the bathroom on level three. The toilet backed up again."

"Oh, come on, not again. Make Zack do it, he always forgets to flush," Mayer protested.

"You have an obligation to maintain this ship just like everyone else. It's your home, is it not?" Lyn replied, shrugging.

"And Zack doesn't have this 'obligation'? I think this bucket of bolts is just falling appart," Mayer said, glancing around.

"This battleship, the mighty 'Altair', is not falling appart. It was built to be the latest in military use, after all," a strong voice said as a man stepped inside the bridge. He was dressed in a long black overcoat he wore buttoned all the way up, a red belt around his waist and black pointed boots. The collar of his coat was as high as his chin, from which was a thin beard that ran up his jaw and to his sideburns. His hair was very short and well-trimmed, colored a medium hue of brown. He wore yellow-tinted, oval-shaped glasses, hiding his dark grey eyes. In one hand, he carried a cup of coffee and in the other a folder.

"Captain Fargus," Lyn said, nodding to the new fellow.

"It would be prudent to have everyone doing as much work as possible around the ship while we're in the middle of a lull, but I don't run a ship of slave drivers. You can run along now, Mayer, you're a pilot, not a janitor," Fargus said firmly, his face remaining expressionless. He sat in his chair at the top of the bridge and folded his legs, reading over the contents of the folder in his lap and sipping his cup.

"Good, because I wasn't going to do it anyway," Mayer spat, thinning his eyes at Lyn.

Lyn returned his gaze with a dirty look. "So why are you here anyway? It's rare you ever come to the bridge."

"Well, I was just going to ask why how much longer we have to go until Freeport 7. Me and the rest downstairs think something is up," Mayer explained.

"Minor engine problem. It was fixed while everyone was asleep. We're at full power now and will be there in less than an hour," Fargus replied, not looking away from his documents.

"That's good to hear. After all, Martin is getting antsy and annoying. All he ever does is hit the simulator for hours every day and Vale plays video games when he isn't up to anything else. And Ellis just sits around and either files or paints her nails, complaining about her hair," Mayer said, rolling his eyes.

Rouri snored loudly, shuffling in his seat.

"Yep, we're a real lively bunch," Tilly said, giggling.

"And I haven't seen Calvez since yesterday morning. For all we know, he could have slipped out an airlock," Mayer commented.

"Good riddance," Lyn said under her breath. "Speaking of our more irresponsible crew, where's Marko? He said he would be right back."

"One can only imagine," Mayer said with a shrug. "Well, see ya'll later," he said as he departed.

"He's our only hope if something comes up. Why did you give such an important job as being the radar operator?" Lyn said, stepping down the bridge to beside Fargus' chair.

"Because of all the people on this ship capable of truly operating it, he was the only one left by default. One can only operate an on-off switch," Fargus replied, looking at Tilly,"one is too narcoleptic to pay attention," he said, looking down at Rouri,"and between the last two, one was good at setting my crew back in line," he said, looking up at Lyn,"and the other had enough intelligence to stare at a screen and tell me when little dots are coming at the big triangle." With that, he looked back down at his folder and took another sip of coffee. "He may be a Coordinator, but it doesn't take an advance human to do that kind of thing."

"Your scathing wit knows no mercy," Lyn said, smirking a little.

"I run a ship full of misfits, oddballs, weirdos, and folks with no other place to go. I have to take what I can get," Fargus said, shrugging a little and keeping his gaze at a document.

"What are you looking over?" Lyn asked, curious and peeking over Fargus' shoulder.

"Estimated expenses weighed against income. As you can see, the bar on the left is getting bigger than the bar on the right," Fargus explained.

"And that means?"

"We'll be broke in a matter of days. This resupply stop in the Freeport won't help things, by the way," Fargus said bluntly, sipping his coffee.

Lyn's jaw dropped. "Captain, if that's the case, we have to do something immediately! Salvage scrap, cargo run, anything! We can't cut anymore of the budget and we can't lay off anyone, we're at the bare minimum of sixty crew members as it is!"

"I'm well aware. That's why we'll move on to a different trade lane tommorrow. For now, we watch, and wait," Fargus said, closing his folder and handing it to Lyn. He took a long sip of his coffee and let out a pleasured sigh.

"Captain! Why wait? We have to do something about it now!" Lyn cried out.

"It's like fishing back on Earth, Lynsie. You wait, you watch, and when the big one comes, you reel it in. You just have to find the right spot and be patient," Fargus said, smirking a little. "But sooner or later, you have to head back in and get some more things so you can continue to fish, you know?"

"Your metaphor is disgustingly fitting," Lyn said, sighing. She took the folder and started for the door,"I'll go file this and see if I can find Marko." She left after mentioning that.

"Fishing and pirating, never thought about the similarities there," Fargus said to himself, chuckling once and resuming his expressionless face.

-----------------------------

She sighed, looking down at her slightly crooked nail. "Damn it, not again," she said and scratched her scalp through her long, blonde hair. "I can't believe how hard it is to maintain my natural beauty."

"Ellis, you worry far too much about that kind of stuff. You are a fine, young woman in your prime," the young man across the room said, looking up from his magazine. He pushed the long, thin spiked bangs of his short in the back red hair across his head and gave her a cheesey smile. His goofy brown jacket with the poofy white down collar, black shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots gave the impression he really didn't take himself seriously; after all, he was the twin brother of Marko. "You should be more concerned with finding a man in your life," he added, giving a thumbs up.

"Whatever, Martin," Ellis replied indifferently, filing around it to round out her nail some more. She was dressed immodestly with a dark purple vest with a low neckline and flipped-up collar, form-fitting white pants, a gold chain belt hanging off the right hip, and knee-high high heeled black boots.

"Please, he tried that line earlier on Tilly," a man said from the couch at the far side of the room between their's. He had a controller in hand and was playing a video game console in front of the TV in the back of the lounge. He had short, neatly trimmed blonde hair with a few short bangs; wearing black combat boots, blue jeans, a white shirt tucked in his pants, and a black leather "fighter pilot" jacket. The most peculiar part of his garb was the red scarf he wore wrapped up towards his chin. Strangely enough, he wore white gloves over his hands, though that didn't seem to effect his finger play on the controller.

"Oh, really, Vale? And how did that turn out?" Ellis asked, smiling a little. She rotated on her seat, looking across the ship's lounge at the blonde man. The lounge was a square of couches, three of which made up three sides and the fourth was the wall with the entertainment center. On the floor was a red shag rug on top of the cold steel floor which was smeared and slightly discolored from lack of proper care. The walls were covered with random posters of everything from various random rock and industrial bands to supermodels with bottles of alcohol covering their bare breasts.

"She nailed him in the balls. One kick and this guy goes down sobbing," Vale replied, smirking.

Ellis burst out laughing. Martin growled in fury.

"Hey, how was I suppose to know she was already pissed off at Zack?" Martin pleaded.

"You just now figured that out? Damn, where have you been?" Vale replied, rolling his eyes.

"I can't blame her, that idiot has been going off on the stupidest tangents yet, lately," Ellis said, cracking open a compact and applying some make-up to her face.

"What do you mean?" Martin asked, curious.

"Zack honestly thinks his designs are production-worthy and he keeps bugging everyone to agree with him," Ellis explained, rolling her eyes. "Anyone who disagrees, he just gives 'the silent treatment', and pretends not to let it get to him."

"He pestered me for a long time about it. I finally told him to just give up if that's the best he could do, but he might still be at it," Vale chimed in.

"He still is, trust me. He's too stubborn," Ellis said, shutting her compact and placing it back on the counter behind her.

"Wait, Zack Jimmer? The guy who's always hanging out in the hangar, begging to try piloting the Mobile Suits?" Martin asked, puzzled.

Ellis and Vale both nodded.

"The one who suggested attaching like two hundred blade weapons to my Astray and those over-sized bazookas for Strike Daggers that would ultimately blow up both the Mobile Suit and target?" Martin asked again.

Ellis and Vale both nodded.

"That guy is a complete moron! Why does Captain Fargus even keep him around?" Martin said, rhetorically.

"To do random tasks?" Ellis replied.

"Comedy relief?" Vale replied, smirking.

Martin shrugged and layed out across the couch.

"Anyone seen Marko?" Lyn's voice said from the door.

All three of the room's occupants looked back at her.

"What? We need him back on the bridge," Lyn said with a shrug, standing in the doorway.

"Where else?" Vale said like it was obvious, turning back around.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Lyn said, raising an eyebrow.

"He did this before. You leave looking for him and he goes back to the bridge so you aren't there to bother him," Martin said, laughing. "Got you twice now, I see."

"That son of a-," Lyn began to say angrily. Then she stormed off down the hallway.

"I swear, this is the strangest ship I've ever been on in my entire life," Ellis said, twirling a long of her hair on her finger.

"Kind of makes it more interesting, don't you think?" Vale said, smirking again.

"What a bunch of weirdos we are," Martin said, chuckling.

-----------------------------

"What do you mean it won't be fixed for another day or two?" the man shouted. He was dressed casually in white sneakers, blue jeans, a red shirt, and had neck-length black hair with bangs that hung over his forehead a bit and went back over his ears. He was standing in the middle of the hangar of the ship, Mobile Suits lined along the walls; Strike Daggers, GINNs, Astrays, and a solitary GuAIZ were there in particular.

The head mechanic folded his arms, brushing some dust off his brown jump suit and shook his head, tossing his ponytail of black hair around. "You heard me, Calvez. You went out and got your Strike Dagger completely screwed up. We can't work any faster than we already are on it," he explained.

Calvez's hazel eyes were almost to tears with anger. "You can't do that! It has to be done now! Come on, Bob, pull one of your miracles!"

Bob reached up and stroked his short, thick beard giving Calvez a stern look from his light blue eyes. "I'm a mechanic, not a deity." Then he stepped away and dug a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his jump suit, grabbing a lighter off the counter next to them to light it. "You obviously don't seem to appreciate how much shit we put up with down here. The ship comes first, then your goddamned Mobile Suit."

"But how can me and the others protect the ship so that you don't have to repair it so much if the Suits aren't ready?" Calvez said, rolling his eyes.

"That's just it, you can't!" Bob said, emphasis on "you". "You're a bum, you suck," he said pointedly.

"Hey, I don't have to take that from you!" Calvez shouted.

"Yeah, you do, because everyone here knows it," Bob said, taking his cigarette from his lips and letting out a puff of smoke.

"Everyone, really? How is that?" Calvez begged, challenging the suggestion.

"Because we're wasting time fixing your Suit, that's why!" Bob shouted, aggrivated. "Now bug off, 'ya bum!" he added, pointing to the door.

"Fine! I know when people are being too stubborn to do something right!" Calvez shouted, then stormed off for the door.

"Hey! Can someone open this thing up? Someone asked me to come down here and get something out of their Suit," a light male voice said from the scaffolding on level with the Strike Dagger cockpits.

Bob looked up and groaned aloud. "Alright, who let Zack in? Someone get that kid out of here!"

"Oh, come on! You have to believe me!" Zack begged. He was a short kid in his mid-teens with short blue hair and green eyes; he dressed in a yellow coat, light blue shirt, and white pants with brown shoes.

"You used that trick last time and almost self-destructed one of those damn things. Someone get him out of here!" Bob commanded angrily.

Two of the mechanics grabbed Zack and dragged him off the platform and towards the door.

"Hey, wait, at least listen to my idea for using shoulder-mounted, high energy cannons for assault artillery!" Zack begged, struggling to get free.

"You already tried that idea. Strike Daggers simply don't have that kind of power output. Get him out of here already," Bob said, sighing.

"But-" Zack tried to get out, but the mechanics tossed him out the door and locked it.

"Good, now everyone back to work. Things can go a lot smoother without all these whining morons slowing things down," Bob said, dropping his finished cigarette to the floor and rubbing it out.

-----------------------------

The next hour passed and Altair arrived at the neutral space colony known simply as Freeport 7. The colony had no affiliation with any country or organization in particular, operating upon it's own crudely designed system of order. It was a popular "pit stop" for the less-than-well-off types around and was quite dependable for providing the things necessary to maintain business. Although much of the interior was slummy and degraded, there were still a few areas owned by the richer fellows who kept their corners of the colony free of the ill element. They were quite the expensive areas to live in where everyone worked to benefit the owner, much like serfs to a feudal lord.

In one such area, two men were sitting at a table outside a street-side cafe, which served Oriental cuisine.

"I'm telling you, it couldn't be simpler. You agree, don't you?" one of them said; a man with a long mane of crimson hair he wore in a ponytail below his shoulders. He was dressed in a black trenchcoat he wore held together at the belt with enough open to show his grey shirt and blue jeans.

The other, a lanky fellow with long, platinum-blonde hair to his shoulder blades, brushed a few of his bangs from his face and smiled. "Of course I agree, this will be child's play, you know," he said, pushing his oval-shaped lense glasses midway up his nose with his thumb, the lenses a medium shade of dark blue to hide his light brown eyes. He wore a dark green, long-sleeved robe-like garment that went down just past his hips and was held closed just to his right around his body by a brown belt. He also had dark blue jeans and black boots on, the collar of his top left folded down.

"We've been planning this for months, I'm sure it will succeed if you can find one that's good enough," the red-head said, taking a sip of his cup.

"I'd say I'm a fairly good judge of character. I have such a refined pallette of taste, after all. For example, this plate of bourbon chicken and rice I'm eating? It's really damn good, I must say," the platinum-blonde said with a wide smile and a nod. "In fact, it's so good, I'm going to finish it, and then I'm going to go shoot the cook. No one should ever be able to have bourbon chicken and rice this good except me and I'll be the last to have it."

The red-head laughed heartily. "Crude, yet effective, I must admit. Okay, you do your part and I'll do mine. Not a word of this will go out, I can assure you that. Meanwhile, I wish you luck in finding another plate of bourbon chicken and rice that good," he said, shoveling the last of his lo mein in his mouth.

"I'll keep in touch to the best of my abilities," the platinum-blonde said, gobbling up the rest of the food on the plate. "I'll call if something comes up," he added, then picked up a black duffel bag he had beside his seat and put the strap over his shoulder as he stood up from the chair.

"Gotcha, chief, farewell," the red-head said, then grabbed his black fadora from the table and put it on as he walked down the street.

The platinum-blonde unzipped the bag a little and pulled out a pistol and silencer, screwing the silencer on as he walked inside the restaurant. He walked casually through the doors to the kitchen and spotted a hefty chef tossing some vegetables in a pan. The platinum-blonde raised his gun as he strolled by in a brisk walk and the cook turned to look; he fired three shots into the cook's chest and the cook fell backwards into a few boxes of produce. The platinum-blonde then continued out the back door casually and down the alleyway back to the street.

-----------------------------

"And I need you to sign here...and here..." the port management representative said, pointing to lines on a list. Altair was now parked inside the large shipping dock of the colony, supplies being loaded inside the cargo holds and minor repairs taking place.

Fargus sighed and continued to sign his name at each of the representative's requests. He'd occassionally look down from the platform at his ship and then back to the paper, shaking his head slowly.

"I'd really like to know why the sudden change in supply purchasing proceedure," Lyn asked as she stood behind Fargus with her arms folded.

"That's simple. You're in a different dock than last time. The ones on the other side are owned by Mercer, these are owned by Stein," the representative said, shrugging.

"This port makes no sense," Mayer said, rubbing his head in confusion. "Why can't you all work together?"

The port representative had a good laugh. "That's a good one, kid, I'll be sure to tell the guys later."

"But why?" Mayer begged.

"No one around here looks out for anyone but themselves. It's dog-eat-dog around this colony," the representative said, shrugging.

"What a strange way to run a colony," Mayer said to himself.

"Alright, that will about do it. We'll be done in a few minutes," the representative said with a smile, taking the clipboard and walking off. "Have a safe trip!"

Fargus sighed in exhaustion and leaned on the railing. "It's mighty tough keeping her in shape, but the rewards are worth it."

"It's a fine ship, Captain. Don't worry, something will come up eventually," Lyn said, smiling.

"Altair was built for combat, not hauling metric tonnes of toilet paper and various foodstuffs. If we can't find something to pilfer and soon, everything will fall appart," Fargus said, maintaining a serious look.

"What do you mean?" Lyn asked, curious.

"You may have left OMNI Enforcer before knowing about this, but Altair is an Izumo-class battleship. It's a basis for several next-generation military battleships, in particular the Archangel-class used by the Clyne Faction four years ago," Fargus explained. "Altair is a fighter, not a mule."

"Is that upsetting you, Captain?" Mayer asked with a little note of sympathy.

"No, as long as I have my ship and a crew, I'm perfectly fine. The ship can be used for whatever we need it to, but it, and us, need money to survive. I may have an Admiral's experience, but I don't know that much about operating outside of standard society," Fargus said, tapping his index finger on the railing.

"I think we do fine for what we have," Lyn said, smiling.

"Yeah, as long as everyone is happy, we should be fine," Mayer said, smiling a bit.

"It's good to hear my crew is loyal, after all, you all must come first before myself," Fargus said, standing upright and folding his arms behind his back. "I won't let Altair or it's crew go down without a fight, whether we're battling an enemy or poor finances."

Lyn and Mayer both smiled at him, then looked down at the ship.

"Ahoy there!" someone shouted from down the platform.

Fargus, Lyn, and Mayer all looked in the direction of the yell. The platinum-blonde fellow was there, jogging up to them. He stopped beside Mayer to catch his breath, keeping a hand on the strap of his duffle bag to keep it on his shoulder.

"And who are you? What do you need?" Lyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this your ship?" the fellow asked, pointing to Altair.

"Yes, it's my ship," Fargus answered him in his strong tone.

"I was just wondering if you could give me some transportation. See, I'm rather down on my luck at the moment and I just realized that there is absolutely nothing here for me. I just need to hitch a ride, that's all," the fellow explained, shrugging and smiling.

Fargus looked up and down the fellow, stone-faced. "You know, it's usually proper to introduce yourself first before asking such things."

The fellow drew a shocked look and took off his sunglasses, placing them on his head. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot my manners," he said, apologizing and smiling. He reached out with his right hand,"My name is Adlai Dayso."

"Captain Willian Fargus," Fargus replied, firmly shaking his hand. "I can transport you if you want, but no one stays on my ship unless they can make themselves useful."

"Oh, you want me to 'earn my keep', huh? Well, I'd say I'm a jack-of-all-trades, sort of. I'm good with computers, have a fairly steady shot, I know my way around the-" Adlai began to say.

Just then, he was interrupted by shots being fired behind them. All four ducked in unison.

"Bloody 'ell! I knew it! It's Fargus!" a British accented man in a tye-dye shirt down the platform said.

"Damn! It's McCartney's group! Lynsie, call the bridge and tell them we're leaving immediately. Mayer, cover us!" Fargus commanded.

Lyn grabbed a radio off the back of her belt. "Tilly, have Rouri fire the engines. We're leaving immediately once the Captain, me, and Mayer are on board!" she shouted into it as Fargus and Lyn took off in a sprint.

Mayer dug into his coat and pulled out a pistol, but by then Adlai had taken out his own and shot the British man twice. Mayer looked up at Adlai and Adlai looked back down with a smug smile. "What was that all about?" he demanded to know.

"Your Captain said to make myself useful, right?" Adlai said with a shrug as he placed his glasses back on the midpoint of his nose.

Mayer sneered and stood up, taking off in the direction Fargus and Lyn ran. Adlai took off behind him as two more British men came down the stairs and began firing automatic weaponry at them.

"What are you doing?" Mayer asked in a shout.

"You expect me to go back there and get my ass shot up?" Adlai replied as he kept in pace behind Mayer as he dashed down the stairs in threes and towards the gangplank of the ship. Mayer ran up and the gangplank began to retract into the ship, but Adlai tossed his bag in the door and dove inside, hitting the cold metal hard.

The door shut and the ship began to move and Mayer pointed his gun at Adlai as he stood up. Adlai got to his feet and raised his hands, smiling at Mayer.

"Alright, what was that all about?" Mayer demanded to know.

"I was in danger and getting on the ship was my only way out. What's the big deal?" Adlai asked, shrugging.

Fargus and Lyn stepped around the corner, looking at both of them. "Well, it's good to see you made it Mayer. But you, Mister Dayso, I don't appreciate you forcing your way onboard," Lyn said, putting her hands at her hips with an angry look on her face.

"I shoot the guy who was trying to shoot you, I run away to your ship because I'm in danger, and now you guys point your own guns at me. I haven't done anything to you people except ask for a favor and do something helpful,so how is this fair?" Adlai asked, rolling his eyes.

Fargus stared into Adlai's eyes for a moment, then nodded to Mayer. "Fine, you can stay Mister Dayso, but as long as you earn your keep as expected. Mayer, show him to room 327 in the port block. He can stay there," he said firmly, then left for the bridge, Lyn in tow.

Mayer stared at Adlai with his eyes squinted. "You're a strange guy," he said, putting his gun away and began walking down the hall. "Well, come on!"

Adlai picked up his bag and followed behind Mayer. Mayer turned left and headed down some stairs to a long hallway of various crew rooms. He stopped in front of door 327 as specified and waited for Adlai.

"Is that all I get of the tour?" Adlai asked, smirking.

"Show yourself around, you're a weirdo. I have other stuff to do than show a vagrant around," Mayer said, starting to walk off. "See 'ya."

Adlai rolled his eyes and sighed, smiling. He opened the door and stepped inside, tossing his bag on the bed.

As Lyn and Fargus stepped into the elevator up to the bridge, Lyn just had to ask,"You know, he could have been with them. That all might have been a trap to get one of McCartney's men in here so he can kill you."

"I've seen his kind before, Lynsie, trust me, he's no pirate," Fargus said, placing one hand at his hip.

"Then what is he?" Lyn demanded to know.

"Just a wanderer, that's all," Fargus said, nodding once slowly.

Back in his room, Adlai layed on his bed and smiled. "I sure hope they have some good food on this ship. Sure would be a shame if they didn't," he said, then folded his arms under his pillow and crossed his legs.