Hydra Heart

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter 24: Sea Dogs

The captain was thrown overboard after he had been forced to teach Vesta how to operate the boat. He made out with a rowboat and sixty miles of sea to cover. Shay and Priscilla seemed to have fallen asleep, so Vesta stayed awake to monitor their course. Constantly, she would take trips down underneath the deck, for reasons she didn't think about.

Shay was peacefully snoring on the floor, rocked to sleep by the waves. Her dark hair was messy from the long journey, but she looked much healthier and stronger than during her immediate grief. A peaceful expression showed the depth of her sleep: open mouth, smooth brow. She was curled up with some blankets she found, looking as comfortable as one could be. Vesta noticed that Shay's fan had been, for some reason, turned off. She knelt over to fix it. She flicked the switch on, and when she turned around, someone was awake.

Priscilla studied Vesta -- her brown eyes stared back at him. Her expressions had lost their edge since when they first met. She looked at him with confusion, not irritation. Her pale skin was burned on the nose, and her hair had grown longer and wilder, but still did not reach her shoulders.

He put a finger over his mouth to ask for silence, and then the two went out to the deck. Away from the port, the air was clear and the sea reflected the abundance of stars. The bow parted waves, heading South so they could fully circumvent the continent. The two sat down on some chairs in the captain's quarters, in silence. The moonlight shone through the window.

"So," Priscilla said. "Are you afraid of her, or do you just care?"

Vesta tilted her head and cast him a suspicious eye.

"Shay. You keep checking on her as if she is going to kill or be killed at this unholy hour. You walk down there every five minutes. You woke me up."

Vesta did not meet his gaze for a few seconds. "... I suppose the latter option would be more accurate."

"Good," he responded. "How are you?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?"

"For the same reason you keep going downstairs."

Vesta exhaled and slouched in her chair. Seemingly from nowhere, he procured a bottle of bubbly and two plastic glasses. He poured her some and handed it over. After he had gotten his own glass, he set the bottle aside. They sat in the quiet for a few moments more.

Vesta asked him, "Why are you here? Why do you work for this organization? I got dragged into it by some girl who was... nice to me, but what about you?"

Priscilla chewed on the question and the inside of his mouth. He answered with a question of his own. "What would you say if you met, say, someone with a really nice car, and they bragged about it? Someone so proud of their car, they incorporate it into their personality. Maybe bring it up at work all the time, wear a shirt with the name of the car on it. How would you feel about a person like that?"

"I would surely injure them."

Priscilla smiled. "Then, if someone were to go to a really nice higher education place and really brag about that institution, how would you feel?"

"They would hang from the sleeves of their University-branded sweatshirt."

He nodded. "I'm glad you share the same sentiment as me. Now, let me flip it. What if you meet someone who is proud of their car or their school, but said car or school was profoundly shitty?"

Vesta hesitated. She had not thought of the difference so much. Maybe it was because she did not have coworkers or friends, but the situation he had described had never occurred to her.

Priscilla did not wait for an answer. "They probably like their things out of sentiment, not out of objective superiority. You wouldn't give them the same hatred you give the fellow with the fancy car and the expensive degree, would you?"

Vesta shook her head. Priscilla brought his point to a head.

"Now, if we agree on that, then let me give you a new hypothetical. Let's say there's two countries, both with patriotic citizens. People willing to rally around a flag. One of these nations is wealthy, with high standards of living and a huge military to back it up. The other is poor and weak militarily, but its citizens are still proud. Which flag would you rather find yourself holding?"

"Hm." Vesta understood now. The question she had posed to prompt Priscilla's explanation was so very important, and she was starting to feel silly about her answer: They started it.