January 26th, 2025: Please note that this an edited version.

Part 2: Sea of Flames

"Let me tell you a tale. A tale of the greatest treasure known to man."

Henry Turner in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead men tell no tales

Chapter 11 - Tideheart

"Come on, guys, you have to see this!" Their chief gestured wildly to get the attention of everyone present. "This crazy guy who talked about reforming prisons once and for all is holding a press conference now!"

Murmuring, the detective inspector and his fellow police officers gathered around the old-fashioned TV installed in the common room. It showed a large, bright event hall with more than fifty reporters waiting more or less patiently. On stage, a huge hologram showing the logo of a very renowned firm for medical supplies flared in mid-air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dear members of the press, thank you all for coming. We're proud to present the CEO of Blakewood Inc, Sir Thomas Blakewood, recently knighted by Queen Elizabeth III. for his services to public health", a disembodied, female voice announced.
Some polite clapping.

Sir Thomas, a neatly groomed, white-haired gentleman in a tweed suit and with a walking stick, a picture straight out of the nineteenth century, slowly walked onto the stage.

"Thank you for coming today. This is a great day for all of us, because we at Blakewood Inc. can tell you without any exaggeration that we have found the solution to one of mankind's more dire problems. Thanks to our new invention, this country and subsequently all other countries on this planet can close their prisons - forever."

Tense whispering, bewildered looks amongst the officers and the reporters alike.
"I know what you are all thinking," Sir Thomas continued. "So please let me explain."

Behind him, the logo vanished and a video appeared, showing a prison yard with a dozen bleak-eyed men walking slowly in circles. The picture changed quickly: tiny, naked prison cells followed by nightmare-inducing washrooms and endless corridors guarded by wards looking even more grim than the prisoners. It was all carefully cut together to show the worst possible scenario reigned by hopelessness and fear, and all the police officers watching knew all too well that this was indeed reality.

"We all know the statistics. The prisons are filled beyond capacity, the rehabilitation programs lack funds and professional staff, and if a person wasn't criminal when they were convicted, they are for sure when they are released. Those places can't make people better. They're just a purgatory, but without the cleansing effect. It's only a step away from hell." Sir Thomas paused. "Of course you all know the story of how my first wife, the respected lawyer Jennifer Blakewood, went to visit one of her clients eight years ago and was brutally killed in a prison riot that broke out that day. She had taken our children with her, because she had wanted to show them how terrible life in a prison was. They had to learn this lesson in the worst possible way." Sir Thomas stopped, his eyes misty. "Ever since then, my oldest son and I dedicated our lives to this project."

The detective inspector vividly remembered that incident. It had been all over the news. The Blakewood kids, sixteen and fifteen years old, had witnessed the murder of their mother and were assaulted as well. The detective inspector remembered how quickly the teenagers had been pulled away from the prying eyes of the cameras as they were rescued. The boy, he had read later, had actually lost an eye while protecting his little sister from getting violated by the prisoners. Afterwards, he had been breezing through online classes of colleges and universities and vanished into the labs of his father's firm, never to be seen again.

The hologram picture changed again, now showing a vast, clean laboratory with a human-sized pod in the middle. Doctors and technicians in white lap coats were busy making adjustments. Through the pod's transparent lid a human figure was visible inside. The hologram zoomed closer to show one of the prisoners from before, now sleeping peacefully. A lot of cables where attached to his body.

"Blakewood Inc. has finally overcome all the technical difficulties of cryo sleep. After some successful long-time tests, we can now safely store a person inside a cryo pod and lower their life function to a minimum. The person will be unconscious. When they awake, they won't have any memories of the sleep. This method, ladies and gentlemen, will save us billions of pounds. We don't have to feed the prisoners. We don't need to guard them night and day. And, most important of all, they can't break out and harm anyone. They go to sleep and awake years later as if it was just the next morning. And after a thorough rehabilitation program that can finally be financed properly, they can rejoin society."

More whispering among the reporters. Finally, one of them rose to ask a question. "You say you can safely store a person inside this... cryo pod for years? But what do we do with prisoners with a life-long sentence?"

"Thank you for asking. A person can stay the rest of their natural lives inside a cryo pod. They age normally in there and can die from old age like any other human," Sir Thomas replied.
Another reporter stood up. "I don't think this solution will be accepted by the Geneva Convention. You can't just put people in a coma and store them away in a fridge to thaw them up later."

Affirmative mumbling all around.

Sir Thomas smiled slightly. "The Geneva Convention has already approved of our method because the prisoners won't be in a coma. During their cryo sleep, their brains will be stimulated because our researchers discovered that if a brain isn't properly active, the person will suffer massive cognitive damage over time. So we have programmed an intricate virtual environment that will enable the prisoners to participate. In fact, they won't even know that it isn't real. I'll explain it to you."

The hologram picture changed again, showing the human brain, some areas highlighted in red and blue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, joining virtual worlds for fun has been part of our lives for a few decades now. These worlds are all safe because the users are constantly reminded that they are not in a real environment. The possibilities of diving into these artificial worlds has lost its magic over time so that nowadays game designers have turned back to old-fashioned hand-held devices or small screens. But we incorporated the inventions made for virtual realities into our system." He paused before he continued. "There are different levels of immersion, depending on the severity of a sentence, because the longer the person stays in cryo sleep, the higher is the risk of brain damage. But with a brain stimulation equal to that of a real life, with all its dangers, will help the person spending the rest of their lives in cryo sleep without even knowing it."

"This virtual reality you created for the prisoners," another reporter stood up. "Is it copying our real world? You surely need incredible amounts of processing power for it?"

"The processing power is immense," he agreed, "but its energy use is about ten percent of the energy needed to maintain the prisons in this country. And no, it it not copying our real world. We found out in an early stage of our research that if the world is resembling reality too much, the people will get disoriented. Their real memories are stimulated, resulting in them not accepting the virtual world anymore. So we've built something different. The exact specification are secret. But we call the world and the whole project 'Chirona'."

"That's Spanish for 'jail', very original. But you just said something about real memories getting in the way. Does this mean the real memories are deleted?" the reporter went on. "Are you telling uns that the prisoners get brainwashed?"

Deadly silence.

"No, the memories are merely suppressed. We build a lifetime of new memories for the person, based on their real experiences, family situation, and so on. Once a person wakes up, they have all their real memory intact from before the cryo sleep. But they can't remember what happened in Chirona," he replied. "And this is the main reason for the Geneva Convenion allowing us this project."

The mumbling and whispering among the reporters continued, but the quality had changed. It was more disbelief than shock now. No one rose for another question for about a minute. Then the reporter who had asked the first question got up again.

"Thank you for explaining this extraordinary project, Sir Thomas. I guess we all have only one question left: when will it start?"

Sir Thomas took another moment to look around. "Project Chirona will start in a few months, before the end of this year. Thank you for coming today, ladies and gentlemen."

The TV was switched off as the agitated murmuring among the colleagues continued. Finally the chief called for order. "Guys, we don't know yet what this will mean for our work here. But our job remains the same: catching the bad guys. What happens to them afterwards is someone else's worry. Let's go back to work."

The detective inspector and his partner remained in the common room.

"What do you think?" his partner asked. "This is crazy, right?"

The detective inspector shrugged. "Maybe not. It could help get the situation under control. Although the thought of storing people like frozen vegetables is a bit odd."

"Well, maybe we'll get an ice gun like that old comic villain, freeze the suspects on the spot and store them in the large refrigerator downstairs, next to our secret stash of after-work beer bottles." His partner formed his left hand to a pistol and aimed at the dirty coffee mugs on the table. "Speaking of beers: are you in for a round tonight? I'll pay."

The detective inspector's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore. "And speaking of situations: you stopped doing it, did you?"

His partner shot him a mock-hurt look. "Always so worried."

"I mean it, Damien. We've been partners for a long time, but I can't let you continue like this. If I notice one bag of drugs going missing again on its way to the evidence storage, I'll tell the chief."
His partner shot him another look, then turned around and left the room.

The detective inspector took a deep breath and looked up at the now-black screen. Some things were about to change.

***

"Storm ahead!" the outlook shouted.

Nicolas opened his eyes and realized that he had fallen asleep, dreaming crazy things again. The day had been hot and the winds calm, so there hadn't been much to do for most of the crew. The lot of them just sat on deck, playing dice or dozing. The Siren's Call was only a few days out of the Akalu Islands now and steadily headed north through the Great Sea en route to Albia.

But now he saw it, too: dark clouds were gathering at a frightening pace, torn by lighting here and there. His next look was toward the helm, but M'Bato, who usually knew hours ahead when the weather was changing, wasn't there. Instead, he spotted Lucky, who was teaching Dao a few things on steering a ship. He seemed to be preoccupied and was now quickly changing course.

But it was already too late. Within minutes, the wind got stronger and colder. Lucky shouted orders to strike most of the sails, and Nicolas quickly climbed up one of the shrouds to help. Halfway atop the foremast, he could clearly see the stormfront closing around them. There was no way escaping it.

Heavy raindrops began to fall. Nicolas was drenched to the bone within moments, the water running down his face, impairing his sight. But years and years of training had enabled him to secure a sail blindly, so he quickly finished his work and tried to see if the others needed some help. But all the sails were already safely struck. Carefully, Nicolas made his way back down on deck and grabbed the rail just in time to keep himself from falling over as the first big wave crashed into the ship.

Nicolas saw the others scattering about, securing loose equipment. But there wasn't much to do. Nicolas had noted with admiration ever since his arrival on board how neatly and orderly everything was secured at all times.

Since there was nothing he could do, Nicolas looked back at the helm if Lucky needed help. But M'Bato had appeared, shouting at Lucky. Nicolas couldn't hear her over the wind, but it was clear he was getting an earful for not noticing the storm in time. Both of them now held the helm in place.

Another wave crashed over the deck, but Nicolas was prepared this time. The Siren's Call bucked like an unruly horse under his feet. Nicolas was aboard long enough to notice how the vessel was strained. As fast and agile she was in both light breezes and strong winds, she wasn't sturdy or big enough to withstand a cataclysm like this. Even Albia's ships of the line, twice the size of the Siren's Call, would barely survive. If they didn't get out of this storm quickly, they would be doomed.

Couldn't M'Bato help? If tidehearts really existed and she was the one they had mentioned, why didn't she do anything? If there ever was a time to start believing in magic, Nicolas would gladly do so if their lives would be saved.

Alastair... Nicolas suddenly couldn't think of anything else. He had to see him at least one last time...

More tumbling than walking, he made is way across the deck. He reached the cabins, as another wave crashed against the ship. Nicolas was pushed hard against the rails, but managed to stay upright. He pulled himself up the small set of stairs and reached the helm.

The cabin door opened, and Alastair stepped out. Behind him followed Evangielle and talked to him urgently. Her hands were clutching his arm. To Nicolas it seemed that she didn't want Alastair to go out into the storm. Alastair firmly shoved her hands away and shook his head. He wore only a shirt and britches and his hair was loose. A moment later, Dan Harrison appeared from the other cabin door, impeccably dressed. He exchanged some words with Alastair and finally also shook his head.

Nicolas frowned. What in the sea goddess' name was going on there? Since Harrison had come on board and had been asigned a cabin, he had not once been involved in the ship's routines. After the secret meeting with the captains, Nicolas didn't have to tell Alastair that there was something seriously fishy about Harrison. They had good reasons to mistrust then man, and so he usually didn't get to see much of the Siren's Call and her secrets.

Alastair stepped over to M'Bato and talked to her. Her grim face got even darker, but she nodded. To Nicolas' surprise, Alastair didn't take the helm, but descended the stairs to the main deck.

"Don't do it!" Evangielle's voice was now so loud that it could be heard despite the wind. "Please!"

Nicolas couldn't stand it any longer. He slowly made his way over to her. "Are you alright? What's happening, Mylady?"

"Damn it, stop him!" Evangielle shouted.

"Don't!" screamed M'Bato. This was the first time Nicolas heard her speak. Her voice was low and melodious, but carried easily over the noise. "You know that the ship can't endure this for long. We're going to die. He has to do it!"

Evangielle leaned her head against Nicolas' chest for a moment, but didn't protest any further. he felt her quietly sobbing against his chest.

"Please, I don't understand. What can he possibly do against a storm?" Nicolas gently patted her back. He tried to comprehend what to her could be more terrible than a sinking ship but he just didn't get it.

Evangielle didn't answer. Suddenly, there was strange noise discernible over the howling of the wind. First, Nicolas couldn't identify it, but then he realized that M'Bato had started to sing in a beautiful, resonant voice. One by one, the other crew members joined in. They all were watching their captain slowly but steadily make his way to the ship's bow.

We're gentlemen of fortune,
We're ladies made of luck.
We bravely sail the seven seas!
There is no going back.

Nicolas had never heard this song, but the simple, driving rhythm immediately got to him. Now the whole crew was singing, and he could clearly hear every word. Even Evangielle joined in at the refrain. Her words were muffled against his shirt, almost like a prayer.

Nothing is certain
But glory, gold, and death.
We are free people -
Free till our last breath!

The heavy rolling of the ship had not ceased, still Alastair stepped to the bow and started climbing the bowsprit. Finally he reached its top. The wooden beam on which he stood was not even one foot wide. He straightened himself and unwrapped the bandages from his arm. He spread his arms wide to both sides. The white cloth was carried away by the wind.
For a moment, Nicolas truly thought Alastair had gone completely mad.

We're born to be sailors,
Saltwater in our veins!
Souls of fire, minds of steel!
Our hearts are hurricanes!

Nothing is certain
But glory, gold, and death.
We are free people -
Free till our last breath!

The Siren's Call rode into another wave, but this time, the wave was coming from behind, taking the ship with it at an incredible pace. Immediately, the heavy rolling motion stopped. A bright flash of lighting tore across the sky, splitting the black clouds into fragments of night. Behind them, blue sky was visible. There was another flash, and another, forcing the clouds apart. The ship's pace increased, and the flags and burgees atop the masts flapped backwards in headwind.

Nicolas shuddered. This was impossible. No ship could go faster than the wind. And yet, it was happening.

Evangielle looked up. Her face was wet with tears and rain.

And finally, Nicolas started to understood.

As the sun rose the last dark clouds, the strange wave subsided. Soon, the Siren's Call drifted in a normal breeze. Nicolas could hear the shouts of joy from the other crew members mixing with the singing.

Like a statue, Alastair still stood atop the bowsprit. Then he swayed like he was losing consciousness, and fell silently.

Pursued by all nations,
Nowhere we are safe.
The seas are our kingdom!
The seas will be our...

The last word of the verse was drowned in terrified shouts.

Nicolas ran. He was already half across deck, tearing off his shirt and boots. Quickly, he grabbed the rope that one of the men was holding and slung it around his waist.

"Secure me!" he shouted at the sailor, climbed over the rails and jumpe. The water was terribly cold, pressing the air from his lungs. But Nicolas quickly regained his bearings and resurfaced. Alastair was nowhere in sight. With a deep breath, Nicolas dived. He hadn't done this in a long time and had to force his eyes open. The salt water burned in his eyes. The surface was a glimmering mass of light above him, but everything else around him was murky darkness.

Nicolas tried to concentrate. He had watched closely as Alastair had fallen off the ship, and given the vessel's speed, he had jumped into the water at the exact same spot.

Damn it, where was he?

A glimpse of red below him caught his eye. Nicolas swam toward it. His lungs were on fire; he needed air. But he had to investigate first what was drifting in the water.

Red Hair was lazily moving in the current like seaweed. It was Alastair. He floated motionless in the water. His eyes were open and stared into the watery darkness. With a few quick strokes, Nicolas reached him and was just about to grab him to pull him up.

There! Movement caught his eyes. Something large was approaching. Nicolas thought he saw fins and glittering scales.

The seas are our kingdom! The seas will be our grave...

The last thing they need now was a shark, but this was something different. But he didn't have time to find out what it was. Nicolas needed air. Alastair likely needed medical attention. It took all his willpower not to take a huge breath.

He grabbed Alastair's arm, and that was when he realized that he was conscious. He looked at Nicolas, pupils so dilated that his eyes were completely black. There was confusion, then recognition in his face. With a swift movement he pulled Nicolas' face close to his own and kissed him.

But it was no kiss. Nicolas felt air being pushed into him and took a deep breath. There was no time to wonder why Alastair still had any air left in his lungs, after he'd been at least twice as long underwater as Nicolas. Alastair let go of him, and together, they started to swim toward the surface.

The fins and scales didn't follow.

Free till our last breath!

The sun was almost painfully bright as they broke though the surface. Nicolas took a deep breath of fresh, wonderful air. Thanks to the rope Nicolas had wound around himself, they could both be pulled up quickly. Dripping and coughing, Nicolas fell onto the wooden plank and stared into the now cloudless sky. A dozen smiling faces appeared above him. Lucky, John Gold, Dao, and a few others from the crew. Lucky pulled him up in a sitting position.

"Let's hear it for Second Officer Nico Ordano!" he shouted.

Deafening cries of joy filled the air. Dozens of hands patted his back and his shoulders. Nicolas could only smile helplessly. He tried to stand up, but fell back as Evangielle slung herself at him and took him into a crushing embrace.

"Thank you so much," she whispered.

Nicolas once again patted her back a bit awkwardly, not sure what kind of touch was appropriate and welcome.

But she let go of him quickly and all but crushed her brother in a sobbing embrace. Mere seconds later, though, she let go of him and punched him hard into the chest. Alastair coughed. "Damn you! That was it! That was the last time!"

Nicolas hadn't noticed in the dim water, but now, in the bright sun, he could clearly see Alastair's naked left arm.

There was no wound at all.

 
Nicolas rubbed his eyes that still stung from the salt water. But the sight before him didn't change. Alastair's left arm was covered with fine, shimmering scales from the wrist up. Underneath the half-open shirt, the scales continued at the shoulder and collarbone, and fine lines of scales grew slowly, but unmistakably over Alastair's chest even as Nicolas watched. Like a ghostly snake, the scales moved over the skin, and finally stopped just above Alastair's left nipple.

Dan Harrison appeared from somewhere. There was a smirk on his face. "That was close."

Evangielle stood up and glared at him. "And damn you! Why didn't you do anything?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress, but some gifts are stronger than others. I would have just gone overboard, helping no one."

Her burning glare told everyone that she didn't believe one word he'd said. "Next time, I'll throw you overboard myself, and then we'll see. I'm not sure we need you on this journey."

For a few more seconds, she stared at Harrison, then she turned to M'Bato. "You have the helm. I go and check our course." She turned around and left.

Dan Harrison smirked. He bent down and reached out to help Alastair up, but Alastair pushed his hand away. "As she said, you're a bit late to offer help." Slowly, he stood up on his own and pulled his shirt close.

Lucky helped Nicolas stand up, as well.

"Let's get them below!" M'Bato ordered. "All hands back into the rigging and set full sail! We have to use this blessed breeze!"