Chapter 421: The Buffet Boarded First

The lookout grabbed the plastic shrimp, so I grabbed the lookout, which seemed like a fair exchange between two men making poor choices about seafood.

I hummed while pulling him over the low rail and pressed him against the display’s broad shell. He tried to shout, but a tendril held his jaw closed while Lukas secured his wrists with a prepared line. We checked that he could breathe, placed him in the empty rear seat, and took his radio.

[System: Deck job’s live, mate: take the outer deck, silence the guns, and secure the prisoners and cargo access. Thirty-five thousand EXP and sixty-five IP when you’ve actually done it, not when you feel impressive.]

Feeling impressive is free, and I want that protected before you find some miserable way to charge me for enjoying it.

I climbed the lookout’s ladder and eased behind the covered rope drums. Lukas followed on his good side, and I waited instead of asking whether he needed help. He would have found some exhausting way to prove he didn’t.

We had agreed on the first gun before leaving the room. It faced outward over the port rail, with its ammunition box beside a poorly secured shield. The gunner was smoking behind it while his friend tried to open a jar with a knife that clearly deserved a better career.

I crossed the deck low, lifted the smoking man by his belt, and slammed him into the covered rope drum. His friend dropped the jar and reached for a pistol, but Lukas struck his wrist with the padded boat hook before he cleared it.

"Keep your hands still. We came in a giant shrimp, and I refuse to lose the evening to a man who can’t open a jar."

The gunner tried to rise. I packed my lower length around his knees and pulled him down, then asked whether he wanted to repeat that until we both got bored.

[System: Move off the ammo box, mate. I know you look expensive in this lighting, but bullets still make holes in you.]

Lukas removed the gun’s firing assembly and placed it in his bag. Then he wedged its turning gear with the metal block we had brought, making the weapon useless even if someone found another trigger.

The second crew noticed us halfway across the deck. Their alarm was a shouted insult, followed by a volley from two short guns. I activated Return to Sender, chose the clear steel shield between them, and drove their detached bullets into that single point. Fragments from their own damaged cover forced them down while I closed the distance.

Two seconds of advantage were enough to knock one man unconscious against the deck and pin the other’s weapon hand under my tail. Lukas started his timer, removed the second gun’s control part, and called the cooldown aloud so neither of us forgot it.

The remaining deckhands ran for the stairs. I dragged their armed friend by his ankle toward the open storage cage and offered them a choice between walking in and joining his demonstration.

They walked. We tied the door, shifted ammunition away from it, and left room to pass a bottle through. I told them to appreciate the refreshments because I normally charged extra for table service.

Lukas reached the stern controls and disengaged the winch that would have dragged our launch beneath the loading gate. He secured its handle with a cable tie and marked it with bright tape so we wouldn’t mistake it for something helpful later.

That was the first moment I looked properly at the central rig. The crane’s heavy lifting arm ran above the floodable well, with a crossbeam held by two side braces. Fresh welds marked one brace, and a service tag warned against swinging a full load while the repair remained incomplete.

"Someone repaired that like they were being paid by the hour and hated the customer. I think we can work with it."

[System: Don’t start drooling yet, mate. Check where the bloody thing lands before you drop a crane through your new furniture.]

Through the cargo door’s window, strapped chests filled the dry forward hold. I leaned closer while Lukas checked the stairs, then he had to tell me twice to stop mentally spending money we hadn’t reached.

The emergency key hung in the deck office where the safety plan showed it. We checked the hold, secured the access, and left the chests strapped down. I resisted lifting a lid only because Lukas was watching with an expression that promised a long argument.

I tested the locking bar while he checked its control. The seal seated firmly, and I approved the door with a pat, already more attached to it than to anyone we had locked upstairs.

Both guns were dead, the cage was full, and our treasure had a door I liked. That seemed an excellent moment to discuss payment.

[System: Deck job completed, mate. Thirty-five thousand EXP and sixty-five IP paid, bringing you to two hundred forty-eight thousand five hundred out of three hundred thousand EXP and thirteen hundred forty IP. Apparently a fake prawn is a valid military expense.]

I was picking my favorite chest when the deck shook. The vibration ran through my underside, and I immediately resented whoever was interrupting this important selection.

The stern loading gate opened with a heavy mechanical grind. Harbor water rushed into the central well, climbing toward the lower service walkway while the cargo door’s raised sill kept the hold dry.

Gullet rose beneath the crane and surveyed his disabled guns. I watched his face change and wished we had charged admission to the expression.

"You came aboard my ship," he said, spreading the water around himself with a slow movement of his arms.

[System: He’s noticed the delivery, mate. Ask if he wants to sign for it before he starts spraying his feelings around.]

The captain pulled a deep ring of water tight around his body, and the narrow well began filling with the attack that had broken our engine.