APOLLO

            Apollo Love had heard the news.  Sootopolis ships had been prowling the waters around Pacifidlog.  It was as if they were preparing for a fight.  It makes sense now, he deduced.

            Diving Pokémon had searched the wreckage of the ship near where Lily was found.  Every crewmate, oarsman, and officer were accounted for.  Everyone except the passenger: Stubble. 

            Apollo had remembered his rage at old Chief Granite when he had got a description of Stubble.  Fool, he remembered thinking.  Apollo had nearly crossed swords with Ahab in a battle for a small island during the Great War.  He could still see the man’s crazy eyes shimmering in the sunlight as he sat on his Gyarados.  Alas, it was the day we received word of Carlos Brightflame’s first invasion.  If Sam Marsh hadn’t have given the retreat order from the Eastern Sea, I might have cut down Ahab before he could have slaughtered my niece and stole my sister.

            There were many things in that could never be fixed.    Perhaps if we had abandoned Spark and Mauville we could have put down the Glamour Empress’s rebellion... and King Sam Marsh would still be alive.  He looked into Gallade’s eye and shook off his thoughts.  It did no good to dwell in the past. Only the future can be changed.

            The tavern he was in was crowded, just what he wanted.  It did no good to call soldiers for his plan.  Apollo would need more than mere soldiers for his mission.

            Apollo was gathered around a table, accompanied by a ship builder, a blacksmith, glass-worker, and a carpenter.  “Men,” he said.  “I thank you for being here today.”

            The carpenter nodded his head.  “It’s an honor, my lord.”

            “I’m going to skip the formalities.  I called you here because I need all of you,” he looked at each of the men in turn.  “You are the greatest craftsman in Slateport, and the greatest ship builder in all of Hoenn.” Silence followed.  The other men looked at each other, at Gallade, yet none said a word.  “I need a vessel built, like none has ever been built before.”

            The shipbuilder’s eyes twinkled.  I have their attention, Apollo thought. 

            He continued.  “I need a ship that is stealthy and swift.  It need only be small, yet suitable for a long voyage.  Ten men at most I plan to take with me.”

            The shipbuilder looked at the carpenter.  “A small feat,” said the shipbuilder “I have just the model in mind.”  The carpenter nodded.  “I daresay getting the wood won’t be so hard.”

            They have no idea what I ask, Apollo realized.  He turned to the others: the glassworker and the blacksmith.  “I need glass thick enough to withstand high pressures, and twenty of your strongest chains.”

            The glassworker and blacksmith were able to oblige.  The strongest glass was promised, and chains with metal of the highest quality.  Yet it was the ship builder whose head was spinning.

            “Forgive me for asking, Chief Love,” he said trying to hide a smile.  “What kind of ship are we building?”

            Apollo was hoping to ease these craftsmen into what he was about to say.  I would have to come out with it sooner or later. “I want a ship that can swim under the water, and carry me unseen behind enemy lines.”

            Silence.  The carpenter snorted in laughter, but shut up quick enough when Gallade glared at him.  “My apologies,” said the carpenter.  “But I can’t oblige.  It would be more trouble than its worth, anyways, to try and drag it under the water. Wood floats, you see?”  The carpenter shook his head and laughed again, stood up from the table and walked out of the tavern.

            This is not a good sign, Apollo thought.

            The ship builder was about to follow suit when the blacksmith spoke up.  “If I may speak,” he said.  “I may have an abundance of a material suitable for what you need.”

            “Metal sinks,” said the ship builder, turning once again.

            “But this metal doesn’t.” There was truth in the blacksmith’s eyes, Apollo saw. “It is a waste product when I smelt my metal to remove the impurities.  It is light, and malleable, and it floats.  The merchants from across the great ocean call it aluminum.”

            “Tell me more, good man,” said Apollo, intrigued by the blacksmith’s words.  Sounds more like a metal I’d make into a cup and fill with a drink, he thought, but he had to know to make a decision. 

            The blacksmith continued as the ship builder reluctantly sat down.  “I have piles and piles of it behind my forge,” he said.  “In my thirty years of smithing, there is no one I can find that would buy it.  People want the usual: swords, shields, armor, plows… And traders from across the great ocean only come to Slateport on rare occasions.  I think I can use this ‘aluminum’ to build this ship of yours, and acquire more of the substance from other blacksmiths at a cheap price.”

            The glassworker was calm.  “I don’t know about this project,” he thought.  “But I can make your glass, aye.  Speaking of prices, as long as you have the silver I can give you your strong windows.”

            “Speaking of prices,” interjected the ship builder.  “If I help to design this thing, how could I get paid?  The price to commission such an object would no doubt require taxation of the citizens, and you’re not even a Marsh to tax Slateport.  Oldale is a small village, I doubt there’s gold enough to pay for it even if we could do it.”  Apollo was going to open his mouth to speak, but the ship builder kept talking.  “And the people that end up paying the most of your noble’s taxes are us businessmen.  So tell me, are you going to take our money to back it back to us? It’s an enticing project to be sure, but a man’s gotta eat, my lord.”

            Apollo smiled and put his hand up in an effort to calm the man down.  “Why would I punish the citizens who have already been insulted by having their King’s Spirit Pokémon stolen, their Princess slaughtered, and their queen likely kidnapped?  I don’t mean to tax the citizens.”

            The ship builder rolled his eyes again.  Apollo was beginning to get frustrated with this man.  “So that’s the way of it, is it? Just do it for free then?”

            “If you would shut your mouth and let me talk,” Apollo growled, “I would tell you how I’m going to pay you.  People are staring now.” It was true, the other men at the tavern were giving them looks, wondering why these men had to disrupt their hour of happiness and drink. 

            Apollo lowered his voice.  “I mean to become a pirate, such as Hoenn has never seen the likes of before.  That’s why I need a vessel the likes that Hoenn has never seen before.  I want my sister back, your Queen, might I remind the lot of you. Yes, I know she’s still alive, yet you must tell no one.”  The men had his undivided attention now.  That, or they think I’m a crazed man.  “On my quest, I plan to hit as many of that Glamour bitch’s ships as I can on my way to my sister.  And now that there’s only the four of us,” he pointed out the door of the tavern, in reference to the carpenter who had left. “We only have to split the plunder four ways.  Like as not I may be able to weaken Sootopolis’s navy so that merchants from the Forsaken Islands of Ever Grande and Mossdeep can cross the sea more ably to trade with the likes of you.”

            The blacksmith and the glassworker seemed convinced enough, yet the shipbuilder still wore his poker face.  “If we can build this ship, mayhaps you’ll be able to do the things you say,” then he leaned forward in his chair and smiled, and metallic false teeth peppered his jaw.  “But that’s an awful lot of plunder.”

            “Aye,” said Apollo matching his smile, “more than you can imagine.”

            The shipbuilder offered out his hand. “I spent my whole life building ships fast enough to escape pirates… never thought I’d be workin’ with one.”