A lonely full moon shone its pale light on La Perouse Strait, north of Hokkaido Island, Japan... and the sole three masted barque cutting through its cold waters. Pulling his black three-cornered hat down over his ears, and pulling his burgundy sash tighter to secure his blue longcoat, the captain peered over the bow. "So how far behind them are we?"

"Fifty leagues, cap'n," the navigator replied. "The northbound currents should slow them down somewhat."

The captain shook his head. "Not enough."

"You realize that if we go after them now, sir," the navigator offered, "the Coast Guard will be all over us like flies on a three day old fish."

"Not if we take speed, surprise, and the dark of night, and play them to the hilt."

"Sir, a modest proposal. We could lay low, be silent, and tail them until they get through the Korean Strait. And once we're both past Cheju Do--"

"--then they'll be within the jurisdiction of the Chinese Navy, and be pretty much untouchable," the captain finished. "That's the matter from stem to stern. We either hit these blighters now, or not at all." He turned to the first mate. "Get the boarding party ready."

***

Shortly, over a hundred sailors assembled on deck.

"Right, mates!" the captain in front of them barked, "I hope you've got your powder dry and your blades sharp and oiled! We're going to hit the Karnov within the hour. Remember, speed is what counts! We've got the lay of the ship out, and ideas where the booty is, but I still want everything pried up and searched under! I want to leave those scurvy vodka swillin' dogs nothing but their lives! And if any low life threatens us or our prize, don't even leave them THAT! You bilge rats hear me?!"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

"Didn't hear that!"

"AYE-AYE, SIR!!"

"Right then. Helmsman! Mast shield up! Full ahead!"

The helmsman then reached past the ship's wheel to the wooden panel and tapped a few buttons. Slowly from behind the railing and gunwales, a clear yet solid, thick screen several a few stories tall slowly emerged and rose. They folded and clacked into position, forming a solid windshield in front of the vessel. And to the stern, from port and starboard, a couple of doors slid back, and out emerged two jet turbine engines that would've looked more at home under a Boeing 747's wings.

The helmsman threw a lever forward, and the engines than spun... then roared to life. The crew braced their sea legs on the deck. And with a stately yet savage speed, the ship quickly accelerated and skimmed westward across the frigid waves with the grace of a dolphin and the velocity of a hurricane.

***

Deena tiptoed quietly down to the living area of Mikiko's beachhouse. Yes, it was mighty generous of her to offer her place to stay, and to invite her here for a summer holiday. She was wondering how her old college friend had turned out since graduation. And the beachside town of Rumoi-shi, Hokkaido, Japan, had proven a very lovely, fun place, especially with the fireworks that popped and dotted the night sky.

But it was chillier than she reckoned, and the jet lag hadn't helped her sleep much.

She padded toward the TV, hoping to see what the late-night programming was like.

"Eh, Dinna-san?" a soft voice sounded. It was Mikiko's nephew, Ruji. "I'm sorry, did I keep you up?"

"No, no," Deena reassured, "you're fine. Brain's still on New Vista time."

"Ah. Well, I was just using the computer while no one else was." He pointed to the GPS map onscreen. "Just chatting with people through IM's around the globe, and with some ship pilots cruising through the area. Sort of like what you Americans do with big trucks with... what are they? C.B. radios?"

"Well, not that much nowadays," Deena said with a slight smile. "We switched over to cell phones some time ago."

"Hai..." Ruji peered hard at one blip on the chart. "Hey wait... that vessel... no, it can't be going THAT fast!"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"This ship... well it looks like a ship...." And he zeroed in the satellite picture of it. "Huh? That looks like a pirate ship!" he exclaimed. "With jet engines out the side?!" He scratched his head. "And it appears to be bearing down on some Russian freighter."

This befuddled Deena. "I think the jet lag's getting to me," she said. "I'd better step out for some fresh air. Excuse me."

And with Ruji's nod, she bowed out. And thankful for the dead quiet of the night, she tapped the buckle of the Belt.

***

Captain Vitaly Amanourov dashed down the corridor of the Karnov . He had been sleeping things off, and then he heard what sounded like firecrackers. Slowly getting out of his bed, and his cabin, he was about to chastize the new crew members for horseplay in the middle of the night... when what did he see but this old sailing ship putting grappling hooks to the side of the Karnov! Then someone yelled, "Right, mates! Let's give 'em better than we get!"

And leaping onto it from the old masts were a bunch of men in striped shirts, breeched trousers, and boots with cuffed tops! Like pirates right out of the movies! And they were brandishing old cutlasses and shooting bell-barreled muskets! Some of the crew members were trying to hit them with wrenches while one trio of these goons reloaded, but a second squad showed up and shot at them next! These crazies had old weapons, but they were using them right.

Dashing into his office, he had to fetch the key to where they stored the heavy artillery to fight them off....

Skreee! Skrank! Scruuuunch! A hideous sound of grinding metal sounded. Looking behind, he saw a solid black blade poke right through the door, and open it like a tin can. Then a hand pushed it aside, and there he was: a clean-shaven man of about 30 years of age, with red wavy hair and a big gold earring under a black three-cornered hat, a dark blue longcoat with brass buttons along the red lapel and hem, a wine-purple sash around his waist, and white breeched pants topping black boots.

And he had a jet-black cutlass with a golden hilt and knuckle guard in his right hand, and a bell-barreled flintlock pistol in his left.

"What you crazy men doing?!" Captain Amanourov stammered.

"Right, mate," this pirate growled, "Where's your hidden cargo?"

"I-I-I am not knowing what you talk about!"

"LIAR!" And the pirate pounced on him, and pinned him to the bulwark, the flat of his obsidian sword against the Russian captain's neck. "We've been tailing you since Okhotsk! Where's your load for Qingdao and Wenzhou?" And with a quieter extra hint of menace: "And Bangkok?"

Amanourov stood against the steel wall, trembling, his pulse in his jugular vein thumping against the blade.

"I don't have time for this," the pirate said simply. He pointed the blunderbuss right at the Captain's face. "Tell me what's on your brains before I litter them against the wall and see for myself." And he cocked back the hammer.

"Not on MY watch, you're not!" rang a powerful woman's voice.

The pirate captain glanced over to the doorway, blade and barrel still braced against the Russian. Then he looked her up from the silver winged shoes on her floating feet, up to the large calves, stout, solid, yet stunning and smooth thighs, up to the wide belt with Athena's ancient visage on the round buckle, the stomach with the upside-down temple-step abs in white, the folded arms with cannonball biceps encasing a similar-sized bust... and up the craggy, chiseled cleft and neck up to that beautiful yet stern, unapproving face crowned with a long flowing mane of blondish-red hair.

The freebooter's left eyebrow arched up one tick. "Dyna, right?" he casually said, as if he'd just met the local TV weatherman or the latest webcam star.

Both of the Damsel Dynamo's eyebrows went up on the recognition, but only for a blink. "Yes, Dyna," she said unappreciatively. "Now let the captain go. This second."

"Please help me!" cried Amanourov. "He crazy! He shooting atmmlph!"

Keeping his pistol's muzzle pressed over his captive's mouth, the pirate pointed his cutlass toward the cabin's ceiling.

"Sorry, Pumpkinlocks," he said with a half smile, "love to chat, but..." He jabbed up. Screeench, scraaanch, scruuuuunch! He carved three straight, neat slashes to a big square into the metal, with the missing fourth side between himself and Dyna by the doorway. The steel flap dipped a little from its own weight.

"Business meetin' in progress," he continued. And he stuck the black sword into the middle gash, pressed for leverage, and opened it so the steel square swung down quickly, blocked the way, and lightly bopped her on the nose.

Dyna shook her head. Some guys simply wouldn't learn. Landing on her feet, she grabbed the metal in her fists like a shower curtain, jerked, wrenched and threw it aside with a loud clang and clatter. "I said get off him!" she shouted.

Not even looking her way, the pirate captain exhaled sharply through his teeth, and quickly shoved a big, heavy oak desk to pin Amanourov against the bulkhead. He finally turned to face Dyna, cutlass and pistol at the ready.

"Lass," he grumbled, "yer about to make a huge, tragic mistake."

"YOU already made it, you third rate Johnny Depp wannabe!" And she hopped into flight and zoomed at him with python arms ready to grab him. With a weasel's speed, he ducked, somersaulted, smacked her in the legs in passing with his blade's flat, and dashed out the door.

She quickly kicked the desk away. "Run and radio the Coast Guard!" she ordered.

Amanourov nodded. "Not needing to tell me twice!" And he bolted the way the buccaneer didn't, while Dyna veered down the corridor after her foe.

Hitting the cold night sea air, Dyna spotted the running pirate rounding the bridge on the catwalk. Zeroing in on him, she beelined over the deck to try to intercept him. Paf! Paf paf paf! The swabbies down below took musket pot shots at her... and three were actually on the mark. The ball shots hit her hip, thigh, and abdomen, thumping against her like they'd thrown grapes.

Just as she rocketed close enough to spot the captain's hair covering his neck, he dropped down and dodged her at the last instant, slid under the guard rail, and caught himself by wrapping his arm around a post. "Save yer ammo, ya dolts!" he yelled. "Keep searching, I'LL handle her!"

Dyna then heard a short yelp down below. She then saw a Karnov mate clutching his bleeding hand, dropping a long steel pipe at the feet of two raiders with short swords. Just as both of them raised and their blades at the outnumbered man's throat, Thoombap! Dyna torpedoed right at them with a bone-breaking slam, and knocked them right over the railing. Screaming, they splatted into the drink.

"AVAST, WENCH!" snarled the pirate captain. "Lay offa my crew!" As Dyna turned around and saw him still dangling onto the railing, his free arm leveled his blunderbuss. Dyna smirked a little at that. If she barely felt the longarms....

FAMM! Loud as lightning, the pistol spat out a huge fireball shot that illuminated the whole deck for a second. And it nailed her squarely in the breadbasket... and felt like she'd been sucker punched by Chuck Norris. As Deena.

"Ffurgh!" Dyna doubled over and sailed backward about sixty feet, just over the pirate ship, barely missing the mizzenmast. "That... actually hurt!" Getting her breath back, she quickly realized that these pirates weren't a bunch of costume party bozos with old weapons and a fancy boat.

"All right, Captain Crook," she growled, "now the gloves are OFF."

Straightening out and shrugging off the pain, she found where the captain dropped and landed on the deck below, dropping to his knees. And before he could stand up, let alone point edge or muzzle at her again, she tackled him, clutched his wrists, and clamped down hard. As he cried out sharply in pain and dropped his weapons, she then swooped up forty, fifty, sixty, and finally coasted to a stop at 100 feet. Stretching out his right arm to the side, and pinning his left behind his back, she pulled him close to herself. Inches apart, her baby blue eyes glared right into his defiant green ones.

"Game's over, you lost," she hissed. "You have ten seconds to call off Smee and Company and order them to stand down. Or I'll pitch you back down to the surface, and you WON'T splash into the water."

The pirate trembled a bit. But somehow Dyna knew it wasn't in fear... it was in anger.

"Now you've done it," he groaned. "You've forced my hand."

Within her left fist, she felt his wrist grind achingly to turn. Then his fingers formed a claw, and pointed right at her face.

"Energy to me," he whispered.

His right hand started to glow softly. A modest white glow, like from a low-power fluorescent bulb. And then she saw soft glowing waves waft through the air, into the hand. It was a bit like a monochrome Aurora Borealis. Wondering where they came from, and suspecting that this was some sort of energy blast powering up, she turned his fingers away from her and down toward the Pacific Ocean.

No, wait... the Sea of Japan. Or was it the Korean Strait? She couldn't remember; she was feeling a bit lightheaded. Then a few butterflies fluttered in the stomach. She felt dizzy. Her eyesight blurred a hair. And then... she started feeling weaker.

And to her horror, she followed where the energy waves came from, and figured out the source: her own body!

Her head rolled. Nausea set in. She couldn't concentrate. And as the pirate's hand kept vacuuming up her life force, she tilted to the side, lost her grip, and started to plummet back down to the Karnov.

As they dropped like bricks, the pirate captain clasped and hung onto Dyna's shoulders, then turned her body around in midair so he was on top and she was on bottom. WHANG! They crashed onto the Karnov's deck, leaving a heroine-shaped crater. The pirate's black three-cornered hat flew off his head on impact, but using most of her chest to cushion his head, he simply bounced with a grunt. Not lingering, he staggered up, and headed toward his head-wear. Dyna craned her neck upward, still quite woozy from the drain.

He looked her way as he scooped up his hat and plunked it back on his red hair. "Sincerest apologies, pumpkin blossom," he said, "but you left me a Chinaman's choice." And he stepped smartly off to where his pistol and cutlass lay.

Reaching up and out, Dyna planted her hands on the steel deck and pushed herself up to sitting position. She sought her breath and balance and rasped, "This... blossom... doesn't... just... wilt!"

She reached for the Belt, and turned the buckle one quarter turn. Time for Level II. And for a few moments, she felt the warmth come back to her inner being and fill her limbs and head, and push out the drain's fatigue. And her arm and leg muscles expanded and rounded like balloons and hardened like stone. And a passing breeze made her hair look like a raised flag, as she grew almost a foot in height, easily breaking seven feet tall. Gathering her wits, she turned back to the buccaneer where he stooped down toward his blade and blunderbuss.

Locking eyes with her, he straightened back up, leaving the weapons on the deck. And narrowing his gaze at her bigger, stronger body, he held up his hand again and spread out his fingers.

"Your life energy, miss," he said, "It's the purest I've sampled in... well, longer than I'll ever admit."

Seeing this, Dyna realized that her Belt's raw strength was not going to be of any help against him. She quickly cranked it back down to Level I, and let her body shrink back down to her regular power. Nodding, the pirate lowered his hand, picked up his pistol and put it back into his belt, grabbed his cutlass with one arcing swoop of his arm, and brought it to the ready.

Then from below in the hold, a swabbie shouted: "Cap'n! We found 'em! WE FOUND 'EM!"

Glancing down that way, the captain's eyes darted back at Dyna for only an instant. Then he then turned on his heels and dashed down the stairs toward his crew.

Dyna started after him... then got a better idea. She flew toward the bow and found the hatch to the hold in midpoint. Grabbing it, she ripped it off, cast it aside, and dived feet first into the cargo area, planning to head the swabbies and captain off and catch them.

But she was the one caught by surprise.

Down below, Dyna saw many coffin-sized, coffin-shaped containers. The pirates pried them open. And in each one, there was a lovely young woman. Mostly European, some Asians, all female and not one appearing a day over 29 years old. They lolled around blearily, as if coming out of anesthesia.

"So," the captain said, from below, "now do you see who the real scurvy pigs are?"

Dyna glared at him. "Oh? And what were YOU going to do with them?"

The captain simply extended a hand toward the biggest knot of his mates.

"Medic!," one yelled. "Need some smelling salts!"

"Easy there, missy, we're getting ya outta here!"

"Ay, Drachen! Your Russian's better than mine! Tell her we're not gonna hurt her!"

Dyna blinked in amazement. And instead of simply tossing the captive women over their shoulders and hauling them off like sacks of potatoes, they were acting more like rescue workers. One pirate was administering mouth-to-mouth and checking pulses. Another hefted up one girl to standing, and called another fellow to help when she couldn't.

Then she turned and stared at the pirate captain incredulously. "All right, who in Athena's name are you guys?"

He folded his arms. "We are the crew of the Soulfinder. And you may call me the Spirit Corsair." He pointed to the coffins. "The Karnov is owned by the Myesnik family. Fastest growing Russian mafia to touch the Pacific. Human trafficking's one of their specialties. And this ship's bottom-feeder crew have been abducting, conning, and smuggling young ladies for 'brides' and 'entertainment.'"

The Damsel Dynamo grunted. "I'd heard rumors of this... even saw it in a 'No Secrets' exposé on smuggling... but I'd never dream they'd be so brazen about shipping them like this."

Just then, Dyna heard the sound of an infant crying. Quickly, she glided over that way, while the captain double-time marched over there. And a bald, brawny, striped-shirt muscle-man gently lifted a baby not quite 9 months old from a toybox-sized container next to two more coffins. "The load for Bangkok, cap'n," he said in hushed voice.

"Bangkok?" Dyna repeated.

"Aye," said the Corsair, taking the infant in his arms. "The brothels there pay the best prices, word on the street says. Especially for 'specialties.'"

Dyna felt queasy again. "You mean...?"

The Corsair nodded, and glowered harshly. "They ain't gonna wait 16 years for this one. In fact," he hissed, "she's a flamin' rush order!" And she saw that his free hand had curled into a fist, shaking with a low rage. The baby started to cry piercingly. "No, no, love, sh-sh," he quickly cooed, "it ain't you I'm angry with."

Then Dyna spotted a figure sneaking behind the captain. And she heard the shak-shak of an assault rifle chambering its first round in the clip.

In a flash, she grabbed the pirate captain by the shoulders, spun him and the infant around so her back took the rattling burst of bullets, and leaned forward, pushing them down to the floor, taking special care not to crush the shrieking infant. And no particular care about the Corsair, whose head bonked loudly on the metal. And she felt the zinging rounds rake, scrape, and ricochet off her backside.

The Corsair grunted, and got his wind back. "Don't want my head on a pole anymore, I take it?"

With lightning speed, she looped up, flipped right-side up in a human Immelmann turn, and went fist-first into the Karnov gunman's face, sending both him and his weapon flying back. She then pivoted in mid-air and faced the flattened freebooter.

"It's not that. You're still pirates. You're just lucky I can't bust you and these slimeballs at the same time. I'm shutting these guys down first, and once the rescue's over and the girls are safe, I'm taking you down next."

The Corsair nodded grimly. "We do what we have to."

Pappappappappap! More autorifle fire clattered. The Karnov's crew had now leveled AK-47s and quickly hosed the area with lead. Three Soulfinder pirates got hit and fell like bowling pins.

The Corsair dove behind a casket, ducking the zinging bullets, his chest arching over the baby. "You stupid wench!" he shouted at Dyna over the infant's screams. "You gave them time to rearm!"

A fleeing kidnap victim stumbled, hit in the leg by the crossfire. As the pirates scurried for cover, Dyna launched herself at the freighter's felons, torpedoing into two with one flight. "You could've called the Japan Coast Guard to intercept them!" she shouted back. "Haven't you heard of anonymous tip hotlines?!"

"You ever hear of bribes, limited manpower, and the speed of the legal process?" the Corsair sniped back as he braced his pistol and searched for a clear shot.

Before Dyna could answer back, someone yelled, "Eh, Flying Girl!"

She looked. It was Captain Vitaly Amanourov. And he was shouldering an RPG-16 rocket launcher aimed right at her.

"Dosvidanya," he said simply.

"No you bloody DON'T!" A zealous Soulfinder pirate sprang from behind and slammed his cutlass right between the Captain's head and the launcher. Weapon swinging awry, the Russian captain fired it involuntarily. Whoosh! The warhead spiraled off-course...

...squarely under the yellow diamond warning sign on the ship's fuel tank.

KAWHOOM! Dyna automatically crossed her arms to shield her face from the blast's force, flames, smoke, and roar.

Felons, freebooters, and females fled up and away from the freighter's fiercely flaming, flooding, sinking stern. Flying above, Dyna felt like kicking herself. The Karnov's crew scrambled ahead of the Soulfinder pirates, who lagged behind to aid the wounded and fallen up to dryer territory. Away from the bridge. The way she'd seen the late Captain Amanourov run, instead of toward it to radio for help. That should've told me this Russian ship wasn't kosher, she lamented silently.

As soon as the Karnov's crew assembled atop the highest ground on the foredeck, one of them shot an AK-47 over the pirates' and abductees' heads, shouting at them to stay back. Dyna flew around the port bow and asked the sailors there, "Anyone speak English? Are all crewmen here and OK?"

The shipmen squinted at her befuddledly. One of them said, "Uh... da, da, all here being alive."

Whoom! Dyna landed feet first on the deck, sending a shockwave that knocked the Russians flat on their cans. Then more speedily than someone her size should, she knelt, sunk her fingers into the steel, pulled up the flooring, and rolled up the metal and the Karnov's men like a Hostess Ho-Ho. Tuning out the healthy shouts, screams and curses within, she then turned to the cautiously advancing women and buccaneers.

"How many we rescue?" called the Spirit Corsair.

After a moment, a mate shouted, "Fifteen total here, cap'n!"

The Corsair stared back. "That's two still missing!"

The bald muscleman pointed back. "Cap'n! There!"

And two more coffins slid down into the flooding hold's water toward the hole in the hull.

"BLOODY BELLS!" shouted the Corsair, as he raced like a madman after them and dove into the brine like Mark Spitz.

Kicking and digging through the dark ocean as hard as he could, the pirate captain caught and wrapped his arms and legs around one coffin as they both slid off and down, down, down into the deep. Reaching into his sash, he pulled out his obsidian cutlass and searched for the seam to pry into and open. A large, massive object plunged down past him, distracting him; he suspected it was another piece of cargo. Finally, he gave up, hoped and prayed he wouldn't hurt who was inside, and slashed the coffin's end off. A rush of bubbles surged out, and he reached in and pulled out someone who looked like a Miss Universe contestant. Finally working her free, she then began to gasp, and realized she was underwater. She started to punch and swat at the Corsair... and then got a mouthful of water. He stared at the panic in her face as she struggled to breathe... and couldn't. And his own air was almost gone.

Oh, Providence forgive me, lass... I've drowned us both!

Thump! He felt something solid and flat smack him squarely in the back, pushing them both upward quickly to the surface, and to the precious air. Not enough for the bends, thankfully, but just in time. He sputtered, coughed and gasped as he and the coffin woman sprawled on the tilting deck. Behind him, he saw Dyna, and the other coffin she'd used to shove them up and away from Davy Jones' Locker.

"Cap'n!" Drachen shouted. "You a'right?"

"BRING SOME MOUTH-TO-MOUTH OVER, YOU IDIOT!" he thundered.

"He's fine," Drachen said to his mates. And their medic hurried down as they hurried up.

***

As some mateys kept watch, while the others reboarded the pirate barque, the Corsair and Dyna stared down at the Siberian woman and her badly bullet-mangled leg. "Extracted the rounds as best I could," the Soulfinder's medic said.

"I could fly her over to a hospital," Dyna said, "but I'm worried the trip might--"

"No need, m'lady," the Corsair said, holding up a hand. Then he spread his fingers out over. "Energy to you," he muttered.

And then, Dyna saw his hand glow again like when he drained her in the air above. She bristled and tensed... and then she saw the energy waves leave his hand this time, and cascade down to the wounded leg below. And steadily the lacerations and punctures drew tighter together... then a bit smaller. The injured woman exhaled with a sigh. The wounds closed tighter... then smaller... then they closed completely... and then there was only a scar... and then not even that was left.

The Corsair nodded with satisfaction. "Yes... purest I've sampled in a very long time."

Like the healed maiden, Dyna stared incredulously at what happened. Then she stared at this mystical marauder. "Who... just who ARE you?"

The Spirit Corsair brought his hands down to his sash. "A simple captain of a bunch of mangy scalawags who all need to shove off before the Japan Coast Guard sets her deadlights on us. I trust you can handle the Karnov Kreeps, and belay these lasses from ripping their lungs out so they can arrive at Jack Ketch's in one piece?"

Dyna coolly folded her arms. "Guess I'll have to. Just remember, though, 'me bucko.'" And she narrowed her eyes. "Better keep your nose clean and watch your step. Next time, you might not have a mission of mercy to hide behind."

The Corsair stared back at her. And yet he managed a half smile. "Thanks for your help, Dyna. Here's to hopin' we can look back at this years later, laugh nervously, then quickly change the subject. By your leave."

The last of the crewmen hopped over the railing back on the Soulfinder. The captain quickly followed. "Right, mates! All present and accounted for?"

"Aye, sir! Japan Coast Guard approaching us due east!"

"Aye, I've seen 'em. Set bearing to 252 degrees! Go full ahead only when these lubbers are clear of our wake!"

And as he headed midship, the engines spun up and roared to life, the crewmen released the hooks, and soon the Soulfinder set off in a westerly direction with a steadily rising speed. Dyna peered hard at the stern of the departing pirate ship. Then as the ship's engines faded away, a helicopter's rotors replaced the noise. Then a spotlight glared on the ship, shining on all on the deck. After a public address system sounded something in Japanese, the pilot tried English. "Attention, Karnov! This is the Japan Coast Guard! Please stay where you are! Ships will be there to help you soon!"

She looked to the captured kidnappers in the steel Swiss roll. "Better bring a can opener," she said to no one.

"Eh, you roll us up!" snapped a trapped crewman. "You roll us out!"

"Oh, be quiet."

***

Below decks, the Corsair looked at the figure covered head to toe with the cloth. "Maimer," he sighed. "Poor blighter."

"Through the head, sir," the medic said. "Gone before you could've reached him, anyway."

Turning away from the body, the captain asked, "Anyone else?"

"Satterlee, Richert, Boyler, and Flannery. Still alive, but at Death's door, knocking loud."

The Corsair passed through the place where the critically injured men lay. Raising his hand, he let the white, pure energy wash down and erase the ugly red marks all over the bodies. Soon their breathing eased, and they rested more peaceably. Slumping forward, the Captain caught himself on a nearby stool and hunched forward. "Get your shut-eye, mates," he rasped wearily. "I could use some myself."

"Cap'n!" a man said, stepping up. "We've got a stowaway."

Heading up with a tired sigh, the Corsair came on deck and beheld a kneeling, weeping woman, one of the ones they'd rescued from the Karnov.

"What is she doing here?" the captain demanded. "We can't exactly turn back and drop her off, let alone get her home just now."

"Her village tried standing up to the Myesnik group," Drachen explained. "Whoresons torched and razed every last house and building. Her family was wiped out." He shook his head. "She's got nothing to go back to."

Stepping forward, the Spirit Corsair put a gentle hand under her chin and propped it up so he could see into her eyes. And with a tender, understanding gaze that reflected a thing or two on lost family itself, he nodded. "Let her bed in my cabin," he said at last. "And prepare me a hammock with the crew, please."

The End

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