The horror of having killed came later, with a clear mind, when the battle was long over and humanity and empathy suddenly fell back on me. I remembered the blood and the expressions of those two men. I realized that I had committed an irreversible action, yet I refused to listen to that voice inside me whispering assassin, assassin, assassin. I let myself slide to the floor, my back resting on the bars, my knees clutched to my chest, and I wept and despaired and hated myself. I hated myself so much, especially when my mind formulated a specific thought, that mantra I repeated to myself over and over again to keep from collapsing completely. Better them than me.

The crew left me in peace. They stared at me, some pitying, some annoyed, and listened to my sobs that filled the cell. No one said anything, no one tried to comfort me. No one knew how.

The cell was sultry, full of humidity and oppressive heat, so that it was difficult to breathe. We had very little space to ourselves, as we were so crammed in that it was impossible even to stretch our legs. The floor underneath us was so ruined that small sharp splinters were sticking into my thighs and palms.

Arenis was thrown into the cell without much care twenty minutes later. She was unconscious and for a moment we all thought she was dead, but she wasn't. It was Dilthey who made sure of that. "She is still breathing. Captain, Captain!" He shook her hard, but she did not move or open her eyes.

"No use doing that. Thorpe must have drugged her," Naade said as he gently lifted her eyelids and checked her eyes.

"Will she recover?" I asked.

"It will take some time."

Eddie took off his jacket, rolled it up and slowly lifted Arenis' head, tucking the jacket under the back of her head to make her more comfortable. For a while we all stood staring at her, almost shocked to see her so still and static.

The Black Star had managed to escape. Dilthey, more than anyone else, was relieved. The universe had answered his prayers.

"Nassau is a few hours' journey from here," he said, more to himself than to others. "Even if the ship is battered, they'll be all right. They'll be all right for sure...."

"Why did they capture us? Why did they leave us alive? What do they want with us?" asked Eddie at one point.

"I think they wanted to capture the Captain. She was the target."

"But why?"

"I don't know."

"Where do you think they're taking us?"

"I don't know that either, Eddie. I'm just as confused as you are."

"I can't believe it. I refuse to believe it. Not them. Not them... We've worked together for so long. We all know each other so well. Why? Why are they doing this to us-?"

"Isn't it obvious?" intervened Dilthey. "Why do we do what we do? What do we live for if not for profit?"

"We have never betrayed our people! Never, never!"

"Everything has a price. Before money, even friendship disappears."

"Bastards. "

Then, it was a guy named Lucas who spoke up. "Who died? Have you counted them?"

No one had. No one had the courage. My mind immediately formulated the image of Quinn falling to the ground, dead. I closed my eyes, trying to remain calm.

"Too many."

"Judging by the number of people here we've lost... seventeen, eighteen?"

"Nineteen."

"Dear God."

"They strangled Horace."

I'd spoken to him a few times. He had never been a very talkative guy, except with Jackie Jay. He was the only one with whom he could open up and joke and laugh and talk.

"Killian..." Killian's corpse in the corner of the cell was already beginning to give off a strange smell. "Amanda's heart is going to break when she finds out."

"He had kids, right?"

"Yes. Four."

"Quinn," I whispered. His name floated through the air with such heaviness that it seemed to crush us all.

Silence fell. Someone let out a groan, a restrained moan. Quinn had always been a lively, outgoing boy. He was the one who united the crew, the one who chatted with anyone and seemed as if he could make friends with the whole world.

"Poor boy."

"He was only fifteen..."

"He didn't deserve to die. Not so soon. He had a whole life ahead of him."

"He knew the risks. We all know them," Eddie sentenced.

"What do you mean? That he had it coming?"

"No. I'm just saying that the life we lead is unpredictable and dangerous. Quinn knew that well."

"Did he suffer?"

"No. I don't think so. He died right away."

"Lately he'd been reading Don Quixote to me for reading practice," Naade admitted. "We were both getting excited about every scene."

"Really? He read it to you?" I asked, amazed. Quinn had never told me that.

"He used to practice so much on the sly, to impress you the next day at your usual class. He wanted to be the best student ever. He didn't want to disappoint you."

I felt my eyes moisten.

"You were very close to his heart, Adler. He treasured you."

Arenis, three hours later, was still unconscious. No one knew what to do, or how to act in that situation. Eddie tried to shake her, to slap her cheeks, but nothing seemed to have any effect. She wasn't responding to anything. She just lay there in that stretched out position, the skin on her face pale and sickly. We all waited impatiently for her to wake up, to come to her senses and tell us what to do. More than anything, at that moment, we wanted guidance, someone who could devise an escape plan, someone who could take charge of the desperate situation. We longed for the presence of Arenis, but she gave no sign of recovery.

It was late at night when Arenis' eyelids fluttered open. I was the first to see that she was awake. I didn't sleep a wink, so I kept looking at her, hoping she'd wake up.

"Captain!" I exclaimed. I pounced upon her and looked into her face. Her clear irises surveyed the void before.

"Captain, can you hear me?"

She peered at me, but it was as if she didn't recognize me. It was a gaze devoid of vitality, two bottomless slits.

She tried to move, but couldn't. An extreme weakness prevented her from doing so.

She let out a groan, then an unconscionable sound.

"Oh, God..." I muttered, shocked. The effect of the drug they'd given her was more severe than I'd expected. I laid a hand on her forehead, making sure she didn't have a fever, and finally squeezed her hand tightly.

"Is she awake?" asked Naade, getting up.

"Yes, but... she's not answering. She's in a state of confusion. What can we do? We have to help her."

"I wouldn't know how. It's the Captain who usually deals with these things. I just don't know how..."

"Everett?"

We all turned to Arenis. She was speaking softly, in a faint tone. Her eyes were to one side and there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"No, no... Don't walk so fast, wait for me..."

"Captain...?" I called to her. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes..."

"What is the name of your ship?"

"The ship?"

"Yes. What's her name?"

She didn't answer. She just stared at me with a vacant expression.

"What day were you born on?" I insisted.

"I... I don't remember."

"Take it easy. Don't fret."

"What are you...?"

"Just close your eyes and rest. Everything will be fine," I lied.

And she, strangely enough, obeyed me. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. Or maybe she lost consciousness again, I couldn't tell. I realized I was still holding her hand, and as if burned, I withdrew it.

At dawn, Arenis woke up again and regained more clarity.

"Do you know where we are?"

"I'm not sure."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were on the Llorona. Arald was talking to me."

"He drugged you."

"What?"

"He must have put something in your drink and drugged you."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

She tried to get to her feet, but sore muscles made her fall back to the floor.

"Tell me everything that happened, Adler. Everything."

And so I told her. I told of the deception, of the carnage in the common room, of the cannon shots on the Black Star, and of Dinnington raising anchor and running away, leaving us there.

"Who did we lose?" demanded Arenis to know.

Silence. Answering that question was difficult. Naade came to my aid. He listed all the names, one by one, and I saw Arenis' face grow more and more grim; a deep wrinkle formed on her forehead. When Naade finished, there was a moment of silence. Arenis was upset and couldn't seem to find the words.

"Did you have unfinished business with Thorpe, Captain?" asked Stevenson. "Do you know why he is doing this to us?"

"No."

We stayed in that cell for over a week. When they brought us food, Arenis insisted that they let her talk to Thorpe, but he never showed up once. The crew of the Llorona ignored us, as if they were afraid of the looks we gave them, so full of anger and disappointment.

One late afternoon, we heard a cry: "Earth!" Dilthey rose on his toes and cast a glance out the porthole.

"Damn," he muttered. "This is Philadelphia."

"Oh, Lord, save us."

"What...?" I asked, confused, when I noticed the faces filled with dismay and resignation of my companions. "What does it mean?"

"Believe me, if we're here it doesn't mean anything good," Dilthey replied, bitterly.