Chase the Stars

"Goddammit! I knew having you around was going to create disaster." Mila pushed damp strands of hair off of her face as she struggled to fix the blown turbine.

"I didn't even do anything!" Charlie protested. He was hovering in the doorway to the engine room, watching her beat at the engine of the left propellers. The poor Peregrine was lurching and jerking in the air like a bird with a broken wing.

"You're bad luck," Mila said, swiping her hair out of her eyes again. Sweat poured down her face and her clothes stuck uncomfortably to her skin. She wiped her brow and left a smear of engine grease on her cheek. "Everything in my life went smoothly and precisely until the moment I met you."

"So sorry to have messed up your ten year plan," Charlie replied, rolling his eyes. Mila cursed again and tossed aside her tools.

"I can't fix this while we're airborne," she said, kicking her toolbox in frustration. "I've got it patched, but I'll need to stop for repairs. That means we have to go to the Isle of Sharks," she added bitterly. It was an island that only loosely obeyed the rules of the Terrapin Empire. It drifted far out from any other land mass, where the Ergyll and Brehz Seas met. It was a haven for air pirates, smugglers, and all other manner of unsavory types. But it was Mila's best chance of getting what she needed to fix her ship and it was a good place to lie low while she did it.

Mila shoved past Charlie and raced back up to the deck, jerking the wheel to adjust their course. The Peregrine turned toward the west and Mila pushed it as fast as she dared. She spotted the lights of the Isle of Sharks as the sun faded from the sky and let out a sigh of relief that they hadn't crashed into the ocean. Her entrance into port wasn't as gossamer as she'd have liked, her ship struggling and lopsided. But they were there in one piece.

"Try not to run your mouth too much," she instructed Charlie as they dropped to the deck. "This isn't Etherport, and you're liable to get yourself killed if you piss off the wrong person."

"I didn't know you cared." Charlie covered his heart in feigned shock.

"I just don't want to have to clean up your guts after they've been spilled all over the ground," Mila retorted. She led him down several windy streets until she found the place she was looking for.

Billy McClintock; or Goat, as he was known to his friends; was the man to see when you wanted something. His ability to procure things was legendary, as was his ability to not get caught procuring those things from illegal sources. He was also an expert on airships and their every function. It was like he could communicate with them. Mila wasn't in the habit of trusting anyone, but Goat was the only person besides herself allowed anywhere near the Peregrine.

"Where are you, you old nanny goat?" Mila called as they stepped inside his shop. Goat came out of the back, his usual surly expression actually changing to a smile.

"Well as I live and breathe, it's the great Mila Beckett. It's been a while, girl."

"Not long enough," Mila shot back, grinning.

"What can I do for you, you little shit?"

"My bird is wounded," Mila huffed. "Busted turbine."

"She's such a pretty bird, I'd hate to see her grounded."

"I need her fixed up yesterday," Mila said.

"Rush jobs cost, Mila."

"Sixty-thousand crescents. Up front," Mila replied. "Just get her fixed, Goat."

His bushy gray eyebrows shot up into his salt and pepper hairline. "Sixty-thousand," he said with a low whistle. "You've got yourself a turbine, girl. I'll have what you need by tomorrow, cross my heart."

Mila handed over the sixty-thousand, Charlie scowling at the sight of it.

"Who's this?" Goat asked. "You get a cabin boy?"

"Just some extra baggage," Mila said, ignoring Charlie's glare. "See you tomorrow, Goat."

She ushered Charlie out of the shop and practically jogged to an inn and tavern nearby. She wanted a hot shower to scrub off the engine grease on her face and hands. She practically threw money at the innkeeper as she asked for two rooms.

"Don't get into any trouble," she said before slamming her door in Charlie's face. She scrubbed herself pink before stepping out of the shower and getting dressed. She rung out her wet curls and wrestled them into a braid as she went across the hall to bang on Charlie's door. He opened it with reluctance.

"What now?" he asked warily.

"I'm going downstairs to have some dinner. You can join me if you want." She turned away without waiting for a reply and strode down the stairs. It was late enough that by now most of the tavern patrons were thoroughly drunk and Mila searched for the seat she felt was safely enough away from danger should someone pass out or vomit. Charlie sat across from her, looking around.

"It smells like feet in here," he remarked. "And blood, a little bit."

"Welcome to the Isle of Sharks," Mila said dryly. Some bread and slabs of meat were set before them and the scowling barmaid eyed them both with distaste until Mila slid her a few coins.

"Everyone here seems to be about as approachable as you," Charlie said. "You must fit right in."

"Shut up and eat your dinner."

Charlie smirked but ate mostly in silence, still looking around the tavern as if trying to take it all in. Mila shrewdly studied him shrewdly studying the other people in the room. It made her all the more distrustful of him; he clearly wasn't as much of an idiot as he pretended to be. She would be keeping a close eye on him until they parted ways. The door to the tavern banged open and Mila suppressed a groan as a group of rowdy men came strutting inside and shooed some other men away from a table so they could sit there.

The crew of the Crimson Tide were notorious and shameless marauders. They had terrorized and pillaged many an airship. And Mila wasn't eager to see their captain again. The year before she had spent a night with him, and had stolen most of his gambling winnings when she slipped out the next morning. Mila slouched in her seat, hoping Cato Minola would be too busy listening to himself talk as usual and wouldn't even notice her.

But of course, bad things happen in threes. Cato spotted her not even five minutes after his crew had come in, and he flashed his signature cocky grin her way before sauntering over to her table. His black hair was in need of a cut, as always, and his eyes were fairly sparkling with wicked delight. Mila wanted to punch him.

"Mila," he drawled. "So good to see you again. You look even better than the last time I saw you."

"Go away, Cato."

"Always so fiery." He glanced at Charlie. "I should warn you, friend. She's more than a handful. Don't let that pretty doll face fool you."

"No one's hands are coming anywhere near me," Mila snapped. Cato tsked and leaned on the table to be closer to her eye level.

"Never say never, my thorny little rose. You may yet want another opportunity to rob me after a night of impressive acrobatics."

Mila pursed her lips, resisting the desire to bury her fork in his eye. Charlie was arching an eyebrow as he glanced between them, looking like he was trying not to smirk.

"If you're going to be in town tomorrow, perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner," Cato continued.

"Oh, Cato. The only way I'd have dinner with you is if you were in the middle of the table with an apple in your mouth. Like the pig that you are," she replied sweetly.

Cato's grin just widened. "You wound me, darling, truly."

"Not yet, but I'm considering it."

"Ah, Mila. How many broken hearts must you leave in your wake before you're satisfied?"

Mila rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You have to have a heart before it can be broken, Cato. Now run along and cheat at cards like you always do."

"Until we meet again." He bowed gallantly, trying to kiss her hand. Mila yanked it away and swatted him across the head. Cato whistled as he strolled back to his own table. Clearly he wasn't too broken up about her robbing him. Charlie was snickering now and Mila kicked him under the table again.

"You have interesting taste," he snorted. Mila glowered at him.

"Shut your dumb mouth before I knock out all those pretty teeth, Charles." She pushed away her plate and stood. "We're going to see Goat in the morning to see if he has the turbine ready."

"Should I direct Cato to your room?" Charlie asked innocently as she stalked away. Mila grabbed a mostly empty tankard off a table and chucked it at him.