016

Tanya

The sun was beating down on me. I was dehydrated, hungry, and felt like I was a walking skeleton. But I was still alive, I guess. Could you really call this life, though?

Whatever supplies had been aboard this vessel had gone bad months ago—at least, I think it was months ago. Time had stopped making sense after I realized the sun never truly set. Oh sure, every 36 hours or so, the sun seemed to dip in one direction, but I blinked, and it was gone, back in the center of the sky. Keeping track of time got hard; my brain couldn't keep up with some things. In fact, I wasn't even sure if I was here or if I was losing it.

Is this Phoenix play? Was everything leading up to this moment where I'd just wander this vessel alone, with no food, no water, unable to truly die, and slowly crack my mind until there was nothing left? The thought sent me into giggles, which I stopped by slapping myself. There was a very real chance I was losing my mind, and I admitted it. There was also a very real chance that I was doomed here. There was no way the others could get me out of this place, and so far, I hadn't found a way out myself.

I had tried leaving the vessel a month ago, wandering into the desert, hoping to find something—anything. But all I found was that I'd wandered in a circle and come back to the Black Pearl. So far, I hadn't managed to find anything of note. I had just lost my mind. I let out another laugh, uncontrollable. What I would give for a way out of this.

Unsteady on my legs, I wandered to the back of the ship, grabbing my Major Orb as I did. There was one good thing about Major Orbs, and though I didn't have the ability to eat or drink anything, magic still seemed to work.

Taking a seat in one of Jack's more comfortable chairs, I activated the Major Orb, flooding my system with combat spell enhancements. Everything seemed a little less insane, or maybe I just felt drunk. I'd figured out how to simulate the effects of being drunk without actually drinking. Amazing. Normally, I wouldn't be up for letting my mind wander, but at this point, if I didn't, I would literally lose sentience and end up no better than a beast.

Of course, wasn't that all humanity was? A beast with just a little bit of higher intellect. And that higher intellect could be robbed from them, just by letting their anger get control. Maybe I should just give in. Wouldn't that be the ultimate insult to Being X's bullshit? Losing all reason and reverting to a beast—definitely an insult to his parasitical control, requiring humanity to serve as nothing but power generators for whatever games he played in the fifth and seventh dimensions. I shook my head, unsure of where the fifth and seventh dimensions had come from. Drugs and loneliness do wonders to your brain. They also do wonders to your ability not to swear, as I felt myself slipping again.

I'm going to lose it. I've been here years, and I want someone to come to rescue me. The sun just kept beating down, and it had started to bleach the Black Pearl white. How long before the wood would rot away? How long until I rotted away? Would I be allowed to rot? Or would I end up like Barbossa, a walking skeleton, doomed to wander this desert hell for all eternity?

It made sense why this place was a desert if you really thought about it. After all, the bottom of the ocean was a desert in its own way. But why was the sun beating down on us as if it were right here? Is this an alternate reality next to Earth, where water never filled the oceans? Or was this some sort of spiritual thing that I didn't understand? I didn't understand a lot—even with my understanding of magic and the relics of this world. There was no way for me to know how and why things worked the way they did. All I knew was that I was losing it.

Slapping myself, I got up, looked out the back window, and tried to think. There had to be a way off this trap. There always was a way—you just needed to put your mind to it. Put your mind to… maybe, maybe I should read the books again, I thought, looking towards the bookshelves that either Jack or Barbossa had filled. I'd read them all by now. I'd even taught myself a few new languages: Portuguese, Spanish, French, Dutch… or had I just made up words, assuming they were correct? Again, my mentality was gone. I needed someone to talk to.

"Good morning up there! Anyone alive?" I called out. I stopped fidgeting, scratching at my head, trying to drive the insanity away, and froze. Slowly, I turned to look up at the door.

Did I just hear a voice? I thought, before I heard it again.

"If there's no one alive, does that mean I get to have your ship?"

Hearing a voice for the second time, I was completely sure it was real. I tore through the front door, practically smashing my way to the edge of the ship, and looked down, trying to determine if this was a real situation or if I was being screwed with.

Standing there was a man. A big man, wearing a red coat. His face was covered in black hair—long black hair—and he looked rather interested in the ship as he stood there.

"Oh, so there is someone," he said, his English accented strangely. He gave a bow before saying, "Name's Black Bart. What might your fine name be, my lady?"

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. Knowing that, I bit the inside of my lip, forcing liquid to form, and squashed it around my throat before swallowing. Now that I wasn't completely dry, I managed to speak. "Tanya von Degurechaff," I said, flipping back to using the name from my last life. It didn't really matter right now, though. It wasn't like he could check the records to see if I was really nobility.

"German nobility? There's like thousands of you," he said jokingly, scratching under his chin. "Though you are rare here in the Caribbean. Let me guess—you pissed off one of the pirate lords?"

I raised an eyebrow before shaking my head. "No, no, I didn't. Is that a way to get into the locker?"

"Oh yeah, that's how I got in," he said matter-of-factly, smiling. "A bunch of my former compatriots thought I was being a bit too successful and conspired to lock me in the locker with a bit of magic. I'm not particularly happy about that, but I think I can find a way out given enough time. I am one of the most successful pirates of our era."

Well, that was true. I'd heard his name mentioned a lot. I didn't know exactly how much success he'd had, though, considering he was here in the locker. Shaking my head, I said, "Oh, welcome to the Black Pearl, Mr. Bart. You wouldn't happen to know how to get out of the locker, would you?"

The man smiled before saying, "Oh, there are a few options. If you don't mind me coming aboard, we could talk about them."

The man didn't really have any weapons beyond the sword at his side, and I had my sword and magic infusion. If things got dicey, I knew I could win. So, I waved toward the nearby ladder and said, "Come aboard, Black Bart."

The man nodded and quickly climbed up the ladder. He brushed himself off before looking at me and raising his hand in surprise.

"Oh! I didn't realize you were a woman. This angle really doesn't do you much favor, my dear. Plus, that outfit… not lacy enough for my opinion. When we get out of here, you should really buy yourself something that flatters you more."

"Noted," I said, not enjoying his commentary, but at least his eyes didn't appear to be looking at me lecherously—more like judgingly. What the hell is with this weirdo? I thought as the man moved toward the center of the ship, hitting the side of the main mast.

"The wood is still good. I think this ship could definitely make it if we could get it to the water."

I looked at him, confused. "Where is he?" I asked.

He shrugged. "There's a way out, or so the rumors say, but I'm not sure we can do it alone. We need a crew, and it's hard to get a crew here in the afterlife. Everyone's either gone crazy or just trying to survive. I imagine you've probably experienced some of the effects of this world."

"Some," I said.

He then added, "Have you been attacked by the crab army yet?"

"The crab what?" I asked, confused, which made him laugh. "Well, I mean, there has to be some sort of scavenger to eat the flesh off the bones of the fallen. The insanicides who live in this world—crabs tend to fulfill that role. There's an army of them somewhere out there. I've seen them attack ships, ripping the vessels to pieces."

"I haven't seen anything like that," I said. "What's going on?"

He simply said, "Well, understandable. Let me guess, you haven't traveled very far, probably because of the way these deserts shift."

Looking out at the desert, I said, "I'd say it is kind of hard to determine anything else out there."

He nodded before saying, "Well, my dear, I have good news and bad news. There are people out there. The bad news is that most of them have lost their minds and have regressed into creatures that are barely human. There are one or two colonies of real people—places that have gathered the debris of ships into fortresses against the endless land around us."

"These people hide in their hollows, trying to maintain whatever city they can, drinking rum made from crabs."

"Can you make rum from crabs?" I asked, not sure if that was actually a thing.

"That's a question I've never actually looked into. I don't drink rum; I prefer tea," the man said matter-of-factly as he moved toward the back of the ship and looked out over the horizon. "I'm trying to find my way out. Pointing to the north, he said, 'Supposedly, there's a great sea to the north, and on the sea, there's a pathway to the world once again—out of this transitional hellhole that has no exit.'"

I nodded before asking, "So we need to find a way to move the Black Pearl to this great sea. Do you have a plan for that?"

"Hmmm, I might have one," he said matter-of-factly, tapping his chin before adding, "It depends. Are you okay with risking your ship to the tides of crabs, the monsters of the desert, and the illusions of your mind?"

Looking around, I said, "If I stay here, I'm going to lose my mind. The ship will rot away, and I'll have nothing to begin with. I might as well risk it."

"Wonderful," he clapped his hands. "First things first, we need some way to draw people here—somewhere to let them know that there is a new ship."

"That's not hard," I said, pointing my fingers to the sky and firing off a flare with magic. He looked up, surprised, before saying, "A witch? Well, now our chances just went up by 10%," with a smile.

Jack Sparrow

"So what exactly is your plan, my fair Captain?" I asked, looking out across the water at Panama. The last time I was here, I was with Tanya, recovering a golden skull. Good times, good times, I thought to myself as I gazed out across the water.

The blonde-haired woman I once loved, and who is now currently possessed by the ancient spirit of a priestess to an ancient god, looked annoyed as she surveyed Panama. She shook her head before saying, "It's not that hard, really. I don't know why people are so worried about this piece of land. It's barely an inconvenience for me."

"Haha, she's always got something up her sleeve that she's just not willing to reveal, doesn't she?" Barbosa said, peeling an apple and taking a bite, enjoying his return to life.

Looking at him, I said, "Of course she's got something up her sleeve. She's got how many thousands of years of experience working around in your head?" I asked, wondering if he would finally tell me.

She shook her head before saying, "A lady does not reveal her age, by the way. Even if I were to give you the year I come from, it's not just me. A bit of me is in every one of my descendants, and I have eyes in every one of those descendants. Sure, I don't have access to all that information in this life, but when I pass on and return to the great roots of my existence, I will inherit that information gathered by the others."

"I have no idea what she just said," Will said, shaking his head.

"That's magic, my dear boy. Sometimes you don't understand it; you just have to go with the flow," Barbosa said. "I'm sure she's got a plan, but I'm really not seeing how she can get this ship from one side of the Panama Peninsula to the other. I know there have been attempts to figure it out, but the mountain ranges in that land make it very unlikely to be successful. Not to mention, if we just walk across it, we have a higher chance of disease."

"You're not going to walk across it," she said matter-of-factly, guiding the ship from where she stood at the helm, her hands firmly on the wheel as she watched the landscape, searching for something.

Barbosa chuckled before saying, "Well, I guess we can't make any assumptions about the matter. We're going after something that should theoretically be impossible. Going into the locker and trying to find Tanya and pull her out is nearly impossible. But I mean, we have a plan—quite an amusing one, if you ask me."

"Yes, yes, a plan," I said. "I found a map, though I'm still not really sure how this map is going to be of use." I looked at Barbosa.

He smiled before saying, "I'll just say that there's a map made by a Spanish man that details the location of several mystical objects, including supposedly the entrance to the locker. If it's true, then if there's an entrance, there's also an exit to the locker."

I made a non-committal noise. I didn't trust Barbosa as far as I could throw him, and even when he was bones, I couldn't throw him very far. He was obviously working some sort of angle that I didn't see, and I knew he would betray me if given the chance. He's done it before a few times now, so I couldn't keep my eyes off him for too long. Whatever he was planning, I could not trust his long-term objectives.

Shaking my head, I decided to ask some questions that probably needed answering. Turning towards Fine, I asked, "So who the hell are the Illuminati? Tanya gave me a Merry Christmas version when we ran into them, but they are interfering with my plan. This whole incident, and I'd like to know if you know anything more since you have quite a vast experience."

Fine laughed before saying, "I know them. I've known them for a while. Some of their original members knew everything there was to know about magic, but then they went a little rogue. Granted, they weren't always the Illuminati—that's a new thing that only came up in the last few years. It's a new title they took when they took over some Southern German secret societies."

"Huh, funny that Tanya is Northern German," I said.

"Hmm, yes, that's true. In fact, I suspect that her family might have had some dealings with the Illuminati, though I don't have any confirmation about that," Fine said, turning the boat to face the land. We had a couple of miles before that would be a problem, but that was a bit weird. I thought, starting towards her. She was still talking, though.

"Anyways, their leader—or at least the leader I had the most contact with before they became the Illuminati—is Saint Germain. You've probably run into her, I'm going to guess?" I nodded as she continued. "Poor girl. Her mother died of a disease, and her wealthy father couldn't care less because her mother was a night lady, if you would. It wasn't in his interest to pay for a bastard. She developed a real hatred for the nobility after that, always plotting their downfall. She sought me out—or rather, sought out a version of me that was active at the time. Rome was still strong at that time. The power levels of magic weren't at the level I needed them to be, so I was more than willing to teach that girl everything I could with the power available. I taught her the power of alchemy, and then, you know, eventually I died. I didn't really pay much attention to her until ten years ago, I guess. Yeah, ten years ago, she started running with a bad crowd, the Illuminati as they called themselves. They apparently took over secret societies that were somewhat devoted to Christianity and turned them into, I guess, Satanists would be the correct term, but their leader isn't really a Satanist."

"Who? What is their leader?" Barbosa asked, now seeming interested as he looked at the oncoming shore.

"Adam. He is a failed experiment—a recreation of the gods that was perfect, but his perfection was flawed. He was unable to truly comprehend what was necessary for him. The ancient gods, of course, weren't going to destroy such a creation. To them, he was a flawed but perfect being. What's interesting is if left with imperfect beings, would he improve those imperfect beings or would he improve himself? Those were the questions the gods asked themselves at that time," Fine shook her head. "They were always a bit more theoretical and research-oriented when it came to humans. I know there are some stories where people claim that the gods would come down and force us to mine gold or do stuff like that, but that tended to be just the god-kings that came after people who played at being gods after the fall of the Tower of Babylon, after our language was taken from us."

"This does not sound like good Christian stories," Will said, which got a laugh from me. I turned towards him and said, "You've seen undead skeleton pirates caused by Aztec magic. Are you not surprised that there are things beyond what we would expect out there if you were only looking at the world from the viewpoint of Christianity?"

"I will admit, but still," Will started saying, "if she starts saying that God doesn't exist, or that Jesus Christ didn't come to die for our sins, I'm going to be very annoyed."

"Well, now that is a question," Barbosa said, looking towards Fine, "about to ask one I think none of us really want the answer to."

"So, you may continue, Fine, with your story. So this Adam fellow is bad news, I'm going to take it?" I asked.

"Very bad news," she said with a nod before adding, "He's been plotting something, a plan that's similar to mine in some ways. I wish to bring the gods back to serve them once more. He, however, wishes to kill them. He wants to take the power of the gods for himself and declare himself a new god among humanity—to become that perfect being he believed he was from the beginning."

"I've gone out of my way to prevent that. I've kept my ears to the ground, and a few years ago, I heard that he had developed a device using relics that could allow him to gather the energy of the universe to himself in a way that would let him achieve a godly identity. I stepped in and tossed his toys into the sea, into Davy Jones's locker, under the assumption that it would be safe down there."

"And now they have Davy Jones's heart, which means it's not…" I said, trailing off, getting a headache.

"Correct," Fine said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Great job there, Jack. Maybe next time you're trying to avoid getting sent to your death, you don't put the entire world at risk."

Will, who had been passively listening to the story, immediately turned to look at her in confusion, as did most of the crew. He was the first to respond and spoke for all of us in this moment.

"What do you mean the entire world's at risk? If he becomes some sort of deity-like entity, how does that put us all at risk?"

Fine smiled before saying, "His way of doing things is foolish. If something isn't perfect, then it doesn't deserve to live. Frankly, he'll look at the majority of humanity and decide that we were a mistake, and he'll start getting rid of all of us if given the chance. Even the Illuminati, those who serve him, will not live long. Simply because he doesn't really care about those who serve him—they are just a means to an end and, as far as he's concerned, replaceable. If he gains his powers, he'd rather build a clockwork army of dolls powered by the death of humanity than let humanity live forever as his servants. At least then the dolls will follow his orders without question."

"Does he have an army already?" I asked, trying to determine exactly what caliber of threat this Adam is.

"That I cannot answer. I haven't been in Europe in a while. I know they've put down deep roots, but I also know that the other secret societies have gone out of their way to try and drive them out of their homeland. I imagine, though, he has something. Never doubt that he has something hidden up his sleeve."

"Aye, Captain," Mr. Gibbs said from the front of the ship, looking at the shore. As I turned, I realized we were getting rather close to it. "Captain, we're getting a bit too close to the shore here. We're going to run aground."

"No, Mr. Gibbs, we're not going to run aground," Miss Fine said, smiling as she reached over and pulled a lever next to the wheel. Instantly, more canvas was released to the sides of the main canvas, as well as canvas over the sides of the ship. Large wooden canvas-holding poles rolled out from the center of the ship where they had been folded together and locked in place, taking away some of the stability as they released their canvas.

Before any of us could really question what was going on, there was a strange sensation, as if weight was leaving the vessel. Before we could run aground, I noticed we were rising higher.

Getting up from where I'd been sitting, I walked to the edge of the ship and looked over, seeing that we were indeed flying. Not very fast—not as fast as I'd seen Tanya fly—but we were flying nonetheless, perhaps a little slower than if we were on water. Turning to look at Fine, she smiled before saying, "What better way to save months of travel than to just fly over the problem? I originally built this for dealing with the Snipe Peninsula whenever I wanted to get from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea. But it works here too. If it moved a little faster, it would probably be my preferred method of travel. Unfortunately, in order to stabilize the vessel, you need to slow it down with magic. Tanya could probably figure out how to make it faster, but she was always a bit skittish about teaching me the secrets of her flight mechanisms."

I shook my head before saying, "You are amazing, Fine."

She smiled brightly in return before saying, "I know I am."

Norington

"Well, that should have been expected," I thought as I saw the port we were heading toward.

The capital of the French Caribbean, the capital of the Haitian colonies, was one of the few fine parts of the French colonies here. Technically, Tortuga was also a very nice port under French control, but Tortuga was, in essence, a pirate port even in the best of times. The French knew that, which is why they didn't put up much fuss when I led an invasion of Tortuga a few months back.

Shaking my head, I turned to St. Germain, who was reading a book that she had set out in the sun.

Clearing my throat, I asked, "So, what exactly is going to happen when we arrive here?"

She looked up, brushing her white hair back, before saying, "When we arrive, Miss Cagliostro will probably meet us at the dock and reveal the operation that Adam has planned. Most likely, it will be something underhanded to keep people from interfering with his plans."

"What exactly are those plans?" I asked, which elicited a smile from St. Germain. She simply said, "The revolutionary concept of treating people equally and ensuring everyone has enough to live. That will bring us to Utopia."

I raised an eyebrow and commented, "So, you wish to remove the nobility?"

"Nobility, tyrants, the merchant class—those who gather power and use it to better themselves instead of bettering society. All of these are a drain on the true power of society. There is a better way, but to achieve it, we need the power to reshape the world and the way people think about it."

I raised an eyebrow; it sounded a bit cultish to me. There were always cults and secret societies, and I had even been offered a chance to join the Freemasons many years ago. I decided against it simply because it was not necessary for the advancement of my career.

Perhaps that was a mistake, considering that I had heard the current admiral of the Navy had some ties to the Freemasons. Maybe that would have prevented things from escalating to my firing.

Fine. I moved to the edge of the vessel as we came into port, wondering who this Cagliostro looked like. I looked around at the dock, seeing what appeared to be fairly normal people at first, before my eyes caught something that shouldn't be there.

"Yoo-hoo! You must be Norrington, right?" a woman called, pointing at me. She was wearing a black and gold outfit that was daring to say the least. Her cleavage was practically on full display, and though the dress did incorporate some European fashion, it was a bit too short, showing off more ankle than was typical for someone to wear.

That was only the start of the strangeness about her. The other perplexing element was her hair color—specifically, the turquoise hair color. It was a strange color, not natural by any measure, making her stand out quite a lot, to be frank.

St. Germain had walked up next to me, smiling as she saw the woman waving at us. She said, "Ah, Cagliostro is here already."

"Good," she signaled to the crew, who lowered a ramp so we could disembark. She indicated that I should walk down the ramp and meet her. "Don't say hello. I'll be down in a bit. I have to make sure the ship doesn't set off on some mission for the empire."

I nodded, deeply unsure of all this, before walking down the ramp. I stopped at the end, finally on solid ground—or wood, at least—for the first time since experiencing this change in form. I adjusted my uniform before turning and holding out my hand. "Cagliostro."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Cagliostro. From what I understand, we are to be working together."

My hand was ignored as the woman grabbed me in a bear hug, showing surprisingly strong strength as she lifted me off the ground. She was shorter than me and managed this feat before putting me down in a whole 180-degree position from where I'd started.

"I can't believe we got a new friend! It's been years since St. Germain deemed someone worthy enough to join her cause. You must have really shown promise!" she said, still hugging me in a way I had never been hugged by a woman before.

Clearing my throat, I said, "Well, yes, well, um…"

Miss Cagliostro broke the hug and said, "Oh, you're probably not used to this. Don't worry about it. You will be, trust me," she said, making hand motions familiar to anyone who had seen Italian gestures before.

Reaching into a side pouch that I hadn't noticed before, she pulled out a letter and said, "So here's the deal, my new friend. From what our leader Adam has been able to uncover, the West Indies English company is plotting to try and get the heart of Davy Jones. They don't know where it is, but if they did, it could be a problem. So Adam wants us to deal with them. They're slowly gaining power within the governmental halls of the British, so we need to embarrass them to the degree that their efforts to gain control of the Royal Navy are stymied. We're going to be heading to Port Royal to do it."

I raised an eyebrow. This all sounded surprisingly good. I mean, taking a shot at the people who ended my career within the Navy was something I wasn't against. Was Adam throwing me a softball to confirm my alliance with his organization? I didn't know, but I had to think about it.

Although, I suppose I could think about it while causing problems for the West Indies company. In my opinion, it would be better for the Royal Navy to remain under the command of the royal government rather than be controlled by companies.

"That sounds wonderful," I said with a smile, which got a brighter smile from Cagliostro as she said, "Good, we're of the same mind then." She put an arm around my shoulder and started to walk me toward the town, holding up the letter that revealed what appeared to be a lot of promissory notes.

"Anyway, I've been instructed to secure some funding from Adam to pay for your new outfits and get your clothing fitted for your new body. We'll also get you some new gear to prepare you for what's to come."

"A new outfit?" I asked, confused, as she continued to pull me forward toward the town.

She laughed before saying, "Well, you can't exactly play the damsel spy without looking like a damsel. Plus, it's not good to hold on to the past. You have a new form, a new life. Wearing a uniform from your old life is just going to drag you down. Trust me on that."

She laughed again, continuing to pull me toward the town, a bit of fear building in my gut as I wondered what she meant by "damsel."