Young Writers Society

Marisol Najiba Sánchez Valencia

The Marballo ship loomed in the distance, slowly making its way into the bay for the night. The ship was a hulking mass of mismatched metal scraps, gears, and support beams, seemingly patched together with whatever was available at the time. She was surprised that it was able to float, much less navigate the waters, but that didn’t reduce the churning in her stomach. Sol could just barely make out the movement of patrols making their way along the upper walkways, the guns strapped to their backs poking up into the quickly-fading sunset.

It was basically a floating city. They were going to try and take on an entire city, and there were men with guns.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.

Alvaro scoffed. “You realize that now, huh?” He adjusted his hat, staring up at the ship with determination in his eyes. “Kind of implied by it being a suicide mission, and all that.”

Asun shot them a quick glare. Alvaro snapped his mouth shut. He wasn’t the only one slightly intimidated by this woman. Though they didn’t know this WWW veteran well, Sol could only assume how many supposed “suicide missions” she had engaged in in the past, yet made it out alive.

She could only wonder how many lives Asun might have taken to achieve that.

These morbid thoughts were interrupted when Ed signaled for them to gather. Nervous energy hung about them like the fogs that swept over Sol’s community on early spring mornings.

“Be ready,” he commanded. “Once we board, the clock is ticking. It will only be a matter of time before the Marballos realize that their rudder is disabled, or that they’ve been infiltrated. If someone sees you, silence them before they can raise an alarm. We need to find the princess and get out of there as fast as we can. In and out. Any last questions?”

There was a pause. The waves lapped against the dock, calm and gentle despite the anxiety surging in Sol’s chest.

“Will we have to swim? Salt water is terrible for my hair.” Alvaro tapped the side of his head and smirked.

Swim? Sol’s stomach twisted. The waves looked less gentle now. She’d be done for before the mission even started, if they needed her to swim.

“No,” Ed said, “We should be able to wade far enough in by foot, until we can climb up the anchor. Victor will be the only one who needs to swim to access the rudder, which is on the far side.”

Victor nodded, shifting uncomfortably at the attention. His shoes were off, and Sol realized with a start that there was webbing between his toes. His gills were uncovered, too. The scarring was extensive, even on his face. Sol felt a twinge of sympathy, for she knew that all scars had stories. What had happened to this man?

Ed clapped his hands together. “Okay. Se armen de valor, mis amigos. Let’s get moving.”

___

Esta es una idea muy mala.

Sol’s knuckles were scraped, her knees ached, and she was completely soaked in seawater. The night had fallen, and the operation had begun. Her heart hammered in her ears as she focused on gripping the massive anchor chain that led up to an opening in the ship’s hull. She hadn’t told the group of the weakness in her left side, but she was definitely feeling it. Her left arm was shaking from the strain, and her blind eye made her feel particularly vulnerable, especially without Valari there to compensate.

“Come on,” Alvaro hissed behind her. He scampered up the chain like Sofia’s monkey, quick and with ease. “We need to move faster.”

“I am trying,” Sol snapped back, hoisting herself up another link. By now, Asun and el Capitan had nearly reached the entrance. She said a quick prayer under her breath, and managed to catch up to them.

Ed put a finger to his lips, reaching for the knife at his hip. No guns, he had said beforehand, Not until it gets bad. We need the element of surprise, and we can’t be waking them up with gunshot.

With the grace of a man who had done this many times before, he swung through the opening and disappeared. The remaining trio held their breath. There was a soft thud from inside, and then Ed’s head popped out, green eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“All clear.”

Sol’s damp skirt clung to her legs as she climbed into the ship after Asun, Alvaro close behind. She emerged in the small room where the anchor chains were stored during travel.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she recognized the collapsed form of a Marballo guard. Her stomach twisted. Was he...? She couldn’t tell in the darkness. She didn’t really want to know.

“Hurry,” Ed breathed, cracking the door open and peeking out. “Remember, in and out. Alvaro and I will sweep the front end of the ship; Asun and Sol, you get the back. The princess could be anywhere.”

The group nodded.

“Gather information about how we can best scare these guys away later. Try to find a weakness or something with their tech that we can take advantage of. Keep your eyes open.”

Ed paused, then glanced back at them. “And don’t die, please.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled the door open, and he and Alvaro were gone
down the hall.

Sol shifted nervously, pulling her garment closer to her. She unsheathed Estela, but again, she wished for Valari’s familiar weight (and protective claws) on her shoulder. She waited for instruction from the veteran at her side, but there was silence. She looked over.

Asun stood stiff. Her eyes, visible through the slits in her teal helmet, were fixed on the open door, one hand curled loosely around the handle of the machete at her hip. She was hardly breathing.

“Asun?” Sol ventured.

The woman startled, blinking rapidly as she snapped back to reality. She glanced at Sol and forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Sorry. It’s...been a while. Since the War.”

She pulled out her machete, the blade glinting in the low light. Was Sol’s eye tricking her, or were Asun’s hands shaking? The woman shifted her weight and Sol couldn’t be sure. This woman couldn’t be as frightened as her, surely. She was a war hero.
Asun plunged out into the hallway without another glance, and Sol found herself stumbling to catch up. As they began to navigate the maze-like corridors of the interior of the Marballo’s massive dwelling, danger hovering electric in the air, Sol still couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach that something was very, very wrong.

And when Alvaro rounded the corner, a gash in his cheek and pursued by five Marballos, Sol knew she had been right.

This was a very bad idea.