Clarissa was happy for a reason to leave Captain Locklear's company.

As a child of the Monastery, Clarissa wouldn't be a wholly inappropriate target for the captain's ire. She was, after all, a representation of his clearly complicated relationship with her home. A relationship strained by a defective device, the implications of which Clarissa knew she didn't understand.

What she could deduce suggested the box contained something that could not be allowed out. The captain's gallows humour was curiously specific, and being attacked by pirates in the forests of Volante hadn't brought out the controller fear he showed now.

The mystery of the box's contents made Clarissa wish she had paid more attention in class. Not that anything she had learned yet covered the shield's power source, or physics enough to make an educated guess.

She tried to push her frantic thoughts back as she stomped her way across the hall. Walking with magnetic boots was still strange, and she didn't trust herself to attempt some of the maneuvers Mercy had used. So she plodded across the hall until she reached her room.

She picked out a warm coat and a scarf, wrapped a hat on her head and a pair of goggles over her forehead. Only after that, and taking out a pair of gloves and checking to make sure her harness still worked, did she make her way down the rest of the hall, to Yannick's door.

She knocked twice. "Yannick? It's Clarissa. Are you awake?" she asked, just before the handle moved, and the door began to swing open.

She helped pull and took over outright when she saw Yannick's arms laden with equipment. Two telescopes rested on his shoulder, a satchel was slung over his shoulder, and he was dressed warmly. "Oh, uh, Clarissa. Hi," he said.

Clarissa smiled, relieved to see him. "Captain said we'd need a new course, since we're not riding the whirlwind. I thought I'd come and tell you that, but it looks like you already know."

"It didn't feel like the Whirlwind. But it's nice to know for certain. Good to see you, again," Yannick said. He turned his head away during the last sentence and made a show of scratching his head. "I could, uh, use a hand. Carrying all of this."

Clarissa nodded and extended her hands. Yannick handed her a telescope, shifted the other to the same shoulder holding the satchel, and shrugged his shoulder once to test the load. "That's great. I, thanks," Yannick said.

"What's your plan, Yan?" Clarissa asked, indulging in how relaxed she began to feel now that she was with him. She poked him in the ribs, gently, and stepped ahead to open the door.

"Yan?" Yannick asked.

"It rhymed. What's the plan?"

"Oh. Measurements. Olencia, Volante, the Ruins. Should be all I need to map the drift over the next few days," Yannick said. Clarissa frowned in disapproval, finding the explanation distinctly unhelpful. Much like almost anything Yannick said, everything someone needed to understand him was there. It just did not come pre-assembled for her convenience.

"So you want our position relative to those three islands you mentioned, so that you can get our position to compare to your map. Then you'll plot the island drift and look for the most efficient course to our destination. Right?" Clarissa elaborated.

"That's what I said," Yannick said, frowning. As if finding her a little slow.

Part of Clarissa thought his deadpan snark was cute. Another part wanted to bash him over the head with his own telescope. She settled for scowling at him while holding the door open.

Yannick moved deftly once they stepped out on the deck, setting his safety clips onto a nearby rail without looking at it, as he marched down the length of the deck. He unfolded the tripod as he walked and only stopped when he reached the bow of the ship.

Clarissa started to unfold the tripod, glancing back at Yannick for a clue about how he secured it to the deck. She had hoped to figure it out herself, but didn't manage in time. Yannick left his telescope, walked across the deck, and pointed to a spot several yards behind Clarissa. "Special brackets, set into the metal. Just unfold the tripod so the legs fit into the grooves, then lock it," Yannick said.

Clarissa smiled. A lot of boys would have tried to do it for her, or show her how. Yannick, in something she was beginning to learn was very much him, instead trusting her to get the job done while he went back to taking measurements.

The tripod fit into the brackets neatly, and the telescope was firmly secure even before Yannick turned the other telescope and began taking notes about the next island in his sights. Clarissa stepped back, and let herself look around, taking in the changes in scenery since the last time she was on the top deck.

Behind her, Volante was so far away she could now see from one end of the isle to the other. Wisps of long white clouds ran through the long forests, and the cities that speckled the island glittered as stone and glass caught the light.

Clarissa turned around to look past Yannick. Just to the right of the bow of the ship was a broken sphere of what looked like speckled cloud slightly larger than the sun. Curious, she turned the telescope towards the strange cloud and locked it in place, for a closer look.

And what she saw astonished her.

The clouds in that strange object were flowing like a stream around small islands, like water flowing around rapids in a stream. The islands she could see were worn bare and smooth, rising and falling into the soupy ribbons of white.

"That's the Ruins," Yannick said. Clarissa kept looking, happy to finally have an image to place on the name the Child's crew kept using. "It's a broken isle. It was hit some years ago by something from beyond the sky, at least that's the legend the wayfarer's tell of it. Because of the speed of the winds, and the occasional pull from when one of the big isles gets near, the rocks haven't settled. Right now, it's just a winding maze of shifting islands you can't see inside."

Clarissa stepped away from the telescope and saw Yannick was smiling. "Tonya, she keeps asking to fly through it, every time we pass."

Yannick took her place at the telescope and started jotting notes down. Clarissa, still keen to look around, set her sights back on the skies near Volante. She sighed and tried to let herself relax. But her earlier concerns still troubled her thoughts, and it wasn't a concern she could put away easily.

"Yannick, do you know what's in the box?"

Yannick didn't answer for a long moment, so long that she suspected he might be considering how to lie to her. But she noticed he was still taking notes. As soon as his charcoal stick stopped moving, he stood up straight and answered. "I don't know. I have theories, but I've never asked the captain."

"Really?" Clarissa was surprised to hear him say that, she had suspected he knew. "The captain really keeps that secret close."

"I know it powers the Shield, which means it's an extremely potent power source. The box uses electrified magnets to lock itself into place, which is stupid if that's all they're doing with those powered magnets," Yannick said, and he seemed more animated than usual as he talked about the black box in their cargo hold. "And the monastery is most definitely not stupid."

"What are you saying?"

"That the monastery uses electricity and magnets for more than to lock the box into place. I think it's used to hold whatever's inside the box," Yannick concluded.

Clarissa considered what Yannick said silently and eventually nodded in agreement. "That makes sense."

"But I haven't learned enough about it to know what it could be. I envy you for that," Yannick said. "You're going to find out, after all."

"True," Clarissa agreed, staring off at the horizon more for something to do, than for the sight itself. Once again, the injustice of denying someone like Yannick a place like hers stung, making her both angry and ashamed.

And as angry as she might feel about Captain Locklear, he at least had taken Yannick in.

"Don't envy me. The skies are always bluer for someone else's horizon. You have a great place here," Clarissa said. She smirked and recalled the invitations to join up she'd received so far. "I might even ask to steal your position here."

Yannick stopped. His expression, as he turned his head to face her, was the wounded gape of a small, trusting child who had just been betrayed. His mouth hung open, and he barely hung onto the notebook in his hand.

Clarissa put her hands on her hips, and added, "Because despite knowing nothing about your skymap, or where most of the big islands are, or not having the foggiest idea how the slipstream interacts with the isle's drift, I could totally do your job. Blindfolded."

Yannick's hurt gaping faded as he looked at her quizzically for a moment. Eventually, he arrived at some sort of revelation, because he snapped his fingers and smiled. "Oh, that's sarcasm. Captain uses it on the others. A lot. Said he'll ease me into it gradually."

"Sarcasm? From me? No, I'm totally serious!" Clarissa drawled, lengthening her words and rolling her eyes dramatically at the end of her last sentence.

"Sarcasm must be part of the Monastery's curriculum," Yannick reflected.

"A joke?" Clarissa asked. She blinked, finally considering his rejoinder. "That was actually pretty good," she admitted begrudgingly.

"Not sure who's job you're going to do," Yannick said. "Odds are I fly better than you."

"Pretty sure I'm already better with a shovel," Clarissa retorted.

"Worse with a wrench," Yannick said.

"I'm probably better with the Banshee," Clarissa sniped.

"If you cook like the captain, I am definitely better," Yannick insisted.

"Why, is he bad at cooking?"

"Leslie said the next time the captain touches more than a plate, they'll box, High Quarter Underground rules," Yannick explained with a short laugh. "Apparently the captain tried to make a cake in zero gravity, took four hours to clean. Leslie doesn't trust him with more than a spoon, says that between the Monastery and the Volante Navy he's lost the capacity to learn to cook."

Clarissa admitted that compared to every work Leslie made, food at the Monastery tasted wood chips flavoured with dirt.

"I think I'm about as bad as the captain in that regard," Clarissa admitted. "And I'm really going to miss Leslie's cooking at the Shield. And the others said that your talent is the only thing we'd never find an equal for under the sky. I suppose..."

Clarissa stopped when she noticed Yannick wasn't paying her any attention anymore. Which was odd for Yannick, who had learned courtesy from a naval captain raised in the Monastery. His sight was fixed on something in the distance, his smile was gone, and his hands were fumbling at his tool bag.

"What is it?" Clarissa asked.

The question seemed to return Yannick to the moment, and he stopped reaching into his bag. Instead, he swung the telescope until it pointed in the direction he was looking, and stared into the distance. "We're being followed," Yannick said.

Yannick didn't elaborate. Instead, he looked through the telescope and began to take notes. "Clarissa. Please grab the other telescope."

Clarissa marched across the deck to the other telescope. But before she picked it up, she decided to follow Yannick's example, and turned the sights to face whatever held the navigator's attention. She squinted and saw three small specks in the distance. She aimed, and looked through the alignment sights until she was on target. Once she had, she looked through the scope itself.

And what she saw frightened her.

Black streams of smoke billowed from the largest of the wooden ships. A grey lift-bag so big it could be mistaken for a small cloud. The hull bristled from both sides with small pips of metal, and rusted iron plated both the bow of the ship, and the sides. Dozens of tiny people flitted about the deck.

And more menacingly than anything else she saw, black streams of cloth trailed from the lift bag, flapping in the wind.

"Yannick?" Clarissa shouted into the breeze, as she folded up the tripod and slung the telescope over her shoulder. "Are those pirates?"

"Corsairs," Yannick answered. He stepped away from the telescope he was using, and as a Clarissa drew close, ripped a few pages out of his notebook. He scooped up the telescope, dropped his notebook into his satchel, and held out the detached pages.

"I'll take the telescope. Take these pages to the captain. Tell him we're being pursued by three corsairs, flying black. I need to plot him some new courses in a hurry," Yannick explained, as he reached for the telescope she was carrying. Clarissa extending it to him, took the pages, and tucked them into her pocket.

Yannick marched towards the hatch, passing her with a sudden swirl of cold air. Clarissa was surprised he could move that fast. "Check with the bridge, find out where the captain is," Yannick shouted over his shoulder.

Clarissa nodded, more to herself, and ran over to the speaking tube near the Banshee. "Tonya," she called into it. "Tonya, is the captain there?"

"He's in engineering," Tonya replied. "What is it?"

"Yannick says we're being pursued by Corsairs. He took some notes and sketches of them. Said the captain should see it right away," Clarissa reported, only a little embarrassed by how high-pitched her voice was becoming.

"Gotcha. Come to the bridge, I'll have him meet you here," Tonya ordered. Something about the direction, and the steely calm in Tonya's voice, was an immediate relief to Clarissa. She marched back across the deck and made her way to the hatch leading to the stairs.

She was opening the door to the bridge just as the Captain caught up to her. He set one hand above hers, helped her push the door open, and followed her inside. "Corsairs?" The captain asked.

"Three ships," Clarissa answered, and she handed the captain Yannick's notes.

Captain Locklear's eyes darted over the pages, flicking like he was watching a flock of fast moving birds swirling around the deck. His scowl only seemed to harden as the seconds passed. "Blast it," the captain muttered, and handed the notes to Tonya.

Clarissa found herself under the captain's gaze and found herself squirming uncomfortably. "Clarissa, do you know what a second-rate ship of the line is?"

Clarissa hesitated, until the Captain's scowl finally broke and he grinned. He pointed and Tonya, and said, "She's about to come across the term in Yannick's notes, but she won't admit to not having the foggiest idea."

"Now that's not," Tonya began to say, but she stopped and turned back to the wheel. "No, that's accurate."

"Volante Navy designation, a second-rate ship is a warship with three decks, and eighty to a hundred cannons," Clarissa recited from memory. She could recall the class this lesson had come from, and was a little ashamed of how she'd stared out the window during it.

Tonya whistled. "That's a lot of ship."

"That's a lot more ship than we can fight. This one's a Calmoori frigate, so she's about as nimble as a timber barge. But a hundred guns is something I don't want the Child anywhere near, especially when our cargo is a sneeze away from coming loose and potentially breaking," Captain Locklear explained. "Tonya, let the crew know we're meeting in the mess hall in an hour. I'm going to talk to Yannick about how we're getting ourselves out of this one."

"Guess I'm living off coffee and grit for the meantime, sir?" Tonya asked.

"With a failing box in our cargo hold, ships in pursuit, and our window to reach the Shield closing? That might not even be the worst of it," Captain Locklear said as he left.

Clarissa gulped, and hung her head, worried as she had never needed to be in her life.