Strike three. 

Kip sat perched atop a barrel, looking over the scene before her. The body of a man lay sprawled on the cobblestone, blood pooled around his right side, face frozen with the pain, fear, and anger that accompanied his death. A scruffy looking constable was bent over his body, prodding around with his bully club. It had just been her luck that he had been nearby conducting a training exercise with his two deputies. One of the deputies looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with his disheveled appearance. He had a Fresh-out-of-the-academy baby face and didn’t seem to know how to properly wear his hat. The handsome, square jawed, dull looking deputy had  draped a thick wool blanket around her shoulders shortly after she had reported “discovering” the body. It was itchy and was causing the fur on her shoulders to buzz with static, but she tried not to show how fidgety she was becoming. The Constable kept throwing her suspicious glances since she had given him her story.

“How do you know the deceased?”

“Well, here’s the thing…“ Kip ran the numbers. The barrel she was sat on was maybe 3 feet tall? It rested about a foot from the edge of the stone pier. The drop to the water was 12 feet from this part of town, a jump she had made before. So, about a 15 foot fall. The river had been flowing slow all morning and she knew she wouldn’t have to swim far before she found a boat or pipe to crawl into to get out of the water and away from sight. It was doable. The constable looked a little heavy around his mid and his lackeys didn’t seem like the “attention to detail” type. Square Jaw kept getting distracted by a gull that was picking around a pie of scrap nearby and Sleepy had missed a button on his uniform, so the rest were offset all the way down. Kip doubted any were a good enough shot to hit a moving target. With that thought, and without another word, she kicked her feet against Square Jaw and rolled backwards off the barrel.

The rush of water muted the shouting from above and for a moment Kip regretted her decision. She hated the water. Especially this water, with its stink and oily sheen. She popped to the surface just in time for a lead bullet to strike the river right beside her. Looking up, Kip spotted Sleepy leveling his flintlock on her position. She had misjudged that one… Kip ducked back below the surface, another bullet shooting past her in a stream of bubbles, and swam with the river current until the fire in her lungs forced her to reveal herself to the line of fire once more. That time the sound of the flintlock firing was the only evidence she was still under attack. For good measure she dove beneath the repugnant water again and again until she was sure she was out of their sight. Once in the clear she hauled ass towards the nearest dock. Gods didn’t she do this exact thing last week? If she knew she would be spending so much time swimming Kip would have never come to this garbage pit of a town.

A drunk man suffered a minor heart attack as she pulled herself from the water onto the dock beside him, shaking as much of the vile liquid from her fur as possibly. They didn’t call it River Woodrot for nothing. She was going to smell for days. Her ears flicked as the sound of distant shouting penetrated the drunk’s belligerent, and apparently racist, tirade. The deputies would be there soon. Kip finished wringing out her tail then jump suddenly towards the drunk, hissing. With a girlish yelp he flailed backwards into the river, splashing like the “water logged feline” he’d accused her of being. She would have pointed and laughed if she had the time, but the shouting was growing louder. Kip inspected a heap of cloth the man had been sitting on and discovered it was a large cloak. It reeked of booze and piss, but it would have to do. Satisfied with the distraction and with her hears not covered, Kip jogged off the dock, up the stone stairs, and into the city.

*

Astor was a terrible city full of terrible people. For one it was big

and full of humans that** **hated anyone that didn’t look or act like them. For another it stank. The Woodrot was actually 2 rivers; the State and the Lyle._ _Situated where the Lyle met it’s sister, Astor was a hub for trade and well traveled people. In all it sported 13 trade districts. Most were docks bordering the city along the rivers competing with each other for mariner contracts. Old warehouses mingled with new ones, retrofitted with crummy apartments and store fronts to support Astor’s living population. You could hardly walk a a city block without running into a much nicer and much more expensive hotel or extended stay for the businesses men and tourists passing through. It was in these spaced Kip had found herself most often since arriving in the city chasing the promise of easy work and abundant opportunity. Where there were businessmen there was money and money was so easy to lose track of in a place as busy as Astor.

Dammit, Geri.

_ _The incident in the alley was sure to put a stop to Kip’s dreams of an easy payday. If only she hadn’t been spotted leaving the alleyway… She stewed on this fact over and over again as she wove through the tightly packed buildings, dodging people and carts of goods. It had been a lot of money on the line. She’d been so sure. Her booted feet struck stone, signaling her entrance into the Rail yard Districts. Three of the cities trade districts ran along the rail road that bisected the Triangle. It was a more affluent and streamlined part of town. The roads were less likely to be covered in mud and waste and the people were more likely to eye hooded hurrying figures like Kip. That and one typically had to be of a certain type of person to take up residency in the Rail District. As drunk and smelly as the man from earlier was, he unfortunately would have a better shot than her blending in those crowds. Colaxi, with their pointy ears, tails, and furry bodies were not even welcome in most of the business establishments in that District. Well, unless they had lots of money. Which she did not.

Dammit, Geri!

Kip didn’t linger. She kept her head down and ears closed to the comments of the wealthy as she pushed forward, muttering aloud her frustration with her day. It had started out fine. They had even had a warm meal that morning! Eggs and toast from The Workday Tavern. And she had been so careful in her planning. Geri. The image of his still body laying in a pool of blood kept intruding into her racing mind. A dagger between his ribs. Fool. Kip was furious enough to push another man into the Woodrot. He wouldn’t even have to smell as bad as the last one. With that thought she let the drunk’s cloak fall off her shoulders and onto the ground, happy to leave a bit of discard for the Upper Class to scoff at.

Normally she would try her luck scrounging around the back alleys of the hotels in the area for bits of food thrown out by picky customers. If she didn’t get caught she could usually scrape together a more decent meal than she could afford to buy in the District she stayed in, but Kip didn’t have time to play around anymore. Her destination lay a few more blocks ahead of her; The last of the Trade Districts, Astor’s pride and joy, the Airship Port. She knew it would be risky trying to stow away on an Airship, but she knew the crews that handled smuggling at the docks and there was no chance she’d manage to get out that way with what had happened. Plus she didn’t have bribe money and to get past Riot Sam’s network of spies you needed bribe money. She knew the local lower gangs had run into trouble spreading their influence to the newest mode of transport in Astor, she just hoped she could find a way around the Republic’s Air Patrol.

*

It was a gamble. A really stupid gamble. The Airship Port was crawling with guards. Republic Air Patrol were funded by the government and their training was more militaristic than the local law and there were a lot of them. The port itself was a vast brick layer square with 4 platforms to hold the great ships. The square was surrounded by 13 foot high brick wall with towers intermittently placed along the ledge. To get in one had to pass through guarded entry points at the center of the four walls with a ticket and government pass. Unless you were using the Western Gate.

Kip watched over the gate from the second floor balcony of a locked apartment in eyesight. Just beyond she could make out a few tall brick structures that she new to be warehouses that stored the goods brought in by the Airships. She also knew from street intel that they were just as heavily guarded as the rest of the Port. Further on the inflated oblong balloons of two of the massive ships swayed in the breeze. They had landed this morning about a half-hour apart, Kip had watched them fly over during breakfast. If she squinted hard enough looking at the gap between warehouses she could just barely make out the shapes of people on the decks of one of the ships bustling about. Kip doubted they would stay long.

Out of time, she vaulted over the rail and started her way down to the street below. Kip would have liked more time to scout, but it wasn’t wise to linger. All it would take is once concerned citizen to report the Colaxi lingering outside their neighbors apartment for Kip to find herself back in the river…

The queue through security was long. There were four Republic Air Patrol Guards at the gate and despite the steady flow of people going in and out, they were stopping and checking everyone. Her government pass was many years expired and she didn’t have the required proof of employment she could hear the guards asking for. Kip scrambled for a good lie. Even Riot Sam had a hard time getting eyes into the port, it would have to be brilliant. If she could just get into one of the warehouses maybe she could stow away in an outgoing crate. She knew she could go at least 4 days without food or water before she would need to venture out and if she picked correctly she might not have to worry about food at all. Airships typically only flew two or three days to the nearest city that could land them. She just had to get in.

The line inched along and so far no one had been turned away. Everyone had their documents in order. Two of the guards were handling the flow of workers that were leaving. They weren’t looking at paperwork, just cross referencing names on a roster and checking the contents of bags or boxes the workers carried with them. Perhaps she could lift work orders off one of them and return. Maybe they weren’t scrutinizing the paperwork close enough to notice her Government Pass was invalid. An older Colaxi man shouldering a heavy sack exited the checkpoint, moving slowly down the street. Slow. Distracted. Probably convincing enough match for a name. Kip stepped out of line, patting her pockets as if she’d just realized she’d left her paperwork at home, and started following after the man.

No sooner had she made her decision than a ruckus occurred at the gate. A large cart rumbled toward the entrance pulled by four lumbering oxen. The line scrambled to make way once the workers realized the ox were not going to stop. The driver was pulling at the reins in vain, a look of panic on his face as the slow disaster unfolded in front of him. The Patrol moved in front of the cart, but the ox paid them no heed and slowly pushed past. One guard even grabbed onto one of the beasts, but she kept on moving dragging his feet along the brick as if he wasn’t there. Kip kissed the backs of her knuckles and bumped her fists together.

Thank you, Rilox!

Her gamble paid off. No one noticed her slip in amongst the other impatient delayed workers and if they did, they still had a slowly out of control cart moving through the port to deal with first. Kip set off towards the warehouses looking late and frustrated. There was no point in trying to hide, Airship Ports were build with lots of wide, open spaces after the disaster at Trillin. She had been unfortunate enough to have seen the immediate aftermath of the crash and still dreamt about the damaged, burning buildings. Airships were incredible, and sometimes they fell out of the sky.

The warehouses were heavily guarded. An unreasonable amount. Two at each door! Luckily they didn’t seem to be checking people as they moved about. At least not yet. Word was starting to spread that the checkpoint had been ignored and she could see foot patrols starting to randomly ask for papers. Kip searched for a box. Hands full and glowering she hustled past two distracted guards and entered into a warehouse. Once inside she discarded the box and dipped into a pile of crates under some stairs. Kip hoped Rilox was still lending her favor because she’d chosen her warehouse at random. If there wasn’t outgoing goods in here she would have try again and risk being stopped.

Now that she was afforded a moment out of sight, Kip settled down and started watching. workers bustled in and out moving goods with them. Carts parked just outside the doors and were loaded and unloaded before rolling back to work. A small crane sat atop a wheeled platform that ran across a square track of rail in the center allowing it to be moved around as needed. The crates in the warehouse varied in size. From where she crouched she couldn’t read most of the labels. She would have to follow her nose. Airships were new to the trade game and had immediately ordered the market on fresh goods. Food that would spoil. Now someone in Trillin could take part in the haul of an Astor fisherman. And that relationship was exactly what Kip hoped to join in on.

An hour passed as she waited. An hour of counting workers, memorizing workflows, ignoring the image of Geri that pestered her. Kip missed her eggs and toast and wished she had sprung the little extra for a cup of coffee. Geri had insisted, but she’d already had the pre-job jitters and she wanted to stay sharp. He drank two. Fool. Dammed fool. She repeated it like a mantra in her head to avoid hissing the words out loud. Kip would be sure to carve the words into whatever container she squeezed herself into. Perhaps she’d write a whole manifesto; a conversion of the dark deeds of her life that led her to hiding in a barrel of smelly fish. At this point it would days until she would have the time and privacy to vent her anger she wished. It burned in her gut and behind her eyes with fury she could barely choke down. Kip should’ve punched that drunk when she had the chance.

Kip perked up. There. A break in the pattern. It must’ve been a lunch break, or a change of shift. She didn’t hesitate. Taking advantage of the lack of workers she moved about the warehouse freely, letting her sense of smell guide her. Luck was with her again. Tucked between two larger stacks of supplies were barrels of fish. There was no doubt about it, they stank of the Woodrot. These fish were leaving. She pulled drew her dagger from its hidden pocket on her leg and jabbed the tip forward to pry off one of the lids. A few more moments and she might even be able to catch some sleep. The lid popped off and she peered inside. There were too many for her to fit. She would need to hide some. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a nearby sack of fruit and started shoving. So focused on clearly space she was, Kip didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were right on top of her. A slim Dark haired man rounded the corner carrying a clipboard. He dropped it just as quickly as Kip dropped the sack when they spotted each other.

“Oh good, a thief” The man drew a flintlock. It was only then Kip realized she still held her dagger in the hand that had been holing the sack. She sure did look like she was threatening him. She let the blade clatter to the ground and held up her hands, trying to protest. All the while she worked out how fast she should have to climb to get over the pile of crates that boxed her in.

“Look, I work here. I was just rearranging these goods before shipping.”

“Right, and who exactly told you to take the fish out of my barrel and put them in my bag of oranges?” He cocked the hammer back and leveled it. Kip’s mind raced. There was a tattoo peaking from under the sleeve of his firing hand. A scar ran along the right side of his chin. He kept both his eyes open. This man was a fighter. And he didn’t believe her for a second.

“I’ll ask again,” He was eerily calm, sliding his free hand into his trouser pocket, “Who told you to rummage in my supplies?” Kip prayed to Rolaxi and opened her mouth to lie. Footsteps approached. This time Kip’s ears were primed to catch them. Another man rounded the corner. They locked eyes and for a moment his flared with triumph.

“I did!” The stranger interrupted, waving his hands apologetically. He grinned at Kip. A kind of smile that read “I got you.”

“I picked her up this morning at the docks, thought she’d be a good edition to the trip,” the newcomer slapped a hand on Berus’ shoulder. He was a stereotypical level of handsome. Swoopy brown hair. Slight scruff on a sharp jaw. His eyes practically twinkled. His teeth literally did. And he wore a swashbucklers uniform like he’d purchased it from a catalogue. Kip had never seen him before in her life. That didn’t stop her from playing along.

“There you have it. I told you he asked me to rearrange something things before we set off.” She reached down for the orange sack and resumed stocking it with fish. The stranger looked on bewildered at the sight. Berus hesitated. Clearly he was skeptical that anyone would ask Kip to perform such a bizarre task. She grabbed another slimy fish and paused, looking toward the Handsom man. He winked.

“We can finish up the inventory, Berus. Can you go make sure the hold is ready to receive them?” The two shared a long, pointed look and Berus lowered their gun.

“As you say, Cassien.” With a curt nod, Berus stepped away. As soon as he was out of sight Kip dropped the sack again and snatched up her dagger.

“I don’t play the honor game. I don’t owe you anything,” She hissed. Cassien laughed. It was a cocky, lighthearted laugh. He wasn’t taking her seriously.

“I’m not looking to blackmail you, I wanted to see if you were looking for a job.” He leaned against a stack of crates and pulled out a roll of paper, “How do you feel about flying?”