The Adventures of the HMS Harlot

Part 5: Otto River, Boatswain

I didn't like the Union much. Not many pleasant memories there, all of which were compounded by the little pickpocket who snatched my coin purse off me when my back was turned. I tracked down the runt and stopped just short of putting a bullet through his head. He blew a raspberry at me, chucked the coins back, and took off into the market square that was beginning to wind down for the day. I could have sworn he spat something at me that sounded a bit like Spanish, yet I couldn't make it out clearly. Probably the bastard child of some Armada Officer and a whore.

You saw a lot of that in these conquered districts. A well to do Officer, Commander, or Captain would want a night of conquest in bed after conquest in the field, and whores were keen enough to know the wind was blowing against them to not put up much protest. Sometimes the man would stay, set up station here to have a sort of family, but more often they would be off with the ship in the morning. Right after we won the war, many women came forward with their bastards looking for compensation. The Armada eventually gave up trying to sort it all out and just left them to their own devices, sometimes demoting the militia found in the scandals for the headaches the Armada received. Sirve a la derecha poner sus pollas en la suciedad.

Even with that in the back of my mind, it was such a quaint little town. Not as run down as the colonies; there's less wooden structures here and more brick. The shingled roofs stained black and streaked grey from the soot and smoke churning from the chimneys. A low level of smog hung in the higher levels of the town center where the topmost windows were kept permanently barred.

Of course, not all of them would be barred. Some just shut the windows, did the latch, and went on with their day. Probably haven't been opened in months if not years. Who could really say they were locked tight at all?

I picked up some apples from a vendor that was just throwing the last tarp over her stall and headed off towards a small park down by the large clock tower smudging the sky. There were a fair number of rowdy youth milling under the trees and a family was splashing in the fountain while a series of teachers huddled for warmth to discuss the upcoming field trip for their pupils to an old battlefield nearby. I remember those battlefields. The cracked earth. The burnt foliage. The sobs of men as you dug the bullets out of their thighs. The blood pooling in the hollows of footprints....

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It is a common fact that all Royal Naval Academy Initiates dread the Pairing Ceremony with an intensity as strong as their faith in their cause. Partnered from the start with someone who you could never abandon, never replace, and yet must trust completely. Imagine the disastrous possibilities. Otto did. He stood there with a high back, no visible terror in his eyes while the Queely family looked down upon him in the box behind the wooden chairs the Initiates sat in. His father had to be at work, missing one of the greatest moments in his son's life.

The earliest memory Otto ever had of his father was of sitting on his father's knee as he sat behind his desk at the prison. He would look up at his dad in uniform and watch as the Naval Officers brought prisoners in and out in their bright seafoam coats and refined white gloves. "That's going to be you someday," His father would say, "You're going to be a soldier too."

"What if I don't want to be. What if I want to be a farmer?" Otto would reply.

"Because you're so much better than that. Out there on those ships, you get to see the whole sky. Every nook and cranny of it."

"Don't you want to be a soldier then?"

"Nah. I've got it pretty well here. But I want you to shoot for the stars, son. Shoot and hit every star in the universe."