Ship Frankenstein
As the red sun hung low over the barren wasteland, setting fire to the greys and browns of the dirt, an airship shuddered and died. It dropped from the sky like a stone and landed with all the grace of an elephant. Dust mushroomed into the air before scattering on the breeze, revealing a crater that was now the home of Frankenstein (a ship happily on fire) as well as a very disgruntled crew. "Peggy!" a suitably peeved captain roared. "What the hell just happened?" "Uh, we crashed." Came a muffled and slightly apologetic reply. A sheet of metal shifted, and Peggy clambered out from underneath. Her long hair was messy, her clothes filthy, and her metal arm hung limply by her side. Apart from one finger that twitched sporadically and occasionally sparked. Besides that, she was a picture of health. And sheepishness. "I can see that. What I want to know is why. Five minutes ago, you said we were fine and now," the captain gestured to the still burning ship, "I'm inclined to believe you were lying." "Sorry Song." Peggy smiled meekly, running her working hand through her hair, "I thought I had it under control." Song huffed, rolling their different coloured eyes. "Can you get her up and running by nightfall?" Peggy surveyed the extensive damage to Frankenstein: the pods had separated and scattered across the crater; Isaac's greenhouse had fractures covering it like spider webs, and the core, a decommissioned army tank, was burning like a guy on a bonfire. "What if I say no?" "You'll be on cleaning duty for the next month." Peggy winced, "Then yes I can." Song turned on their heel and shouted in the general direction of the wreck. "Is anyone dead?" For a moment there was silence and the sun's red hue looked too much like blood, then a chorus of ‘no's drifted up from various pods. A tall Asian boy appeared from a battered storage container. He was dressed in black and had an impressive gash running across his hairline. As he walked towards them, his skin seemed to spark, orange and yellow dancing across his wound, before it closed completely. "Peggy, the next time you try and kill us, at least let us finish eating breakfast first." "It's nice to see a near-death experience hasn't altered your priorities, Ethan." Song grabbed his shoulders and spun him to face the fire. "Put the fire out." "Anything for you, my love," Ethan muttered under his breath. Song cuffed his ear. He grinned cheekily before raising his hands towards the fire. Sparks danced on his palms, calling the flames to them. Like a dog returning to its master, the flames abandoned the tank and dutifully rushed towards Ethan's outstretched hands. For a moment, it looked like his skin was on fire but then the flames vanished, and Ethan lowered his hands, burn free. "Great. Peggy, get to work." Peggy nodded, retrieving her toolkit that lay discarded at the edge of the crater and rushed into the smoking heart of the ship. Song watched her go with pursed lips and folded arms. These crashes were getting more frequent. Soon, luck was going to deal them a bad hand of cards and not everyone was going to make it out alive. They needed all their crew in order to keep going, each one of them a vital organ that kept the ship moving.
"Isaac, Nadia, Emi," Song called out, "are you all alright?" Three heads popped up in quick succession, like meerkats. One of them, a blue-haired boy who wore a surgical mask replied indignantly, "My greenhouse is broken." "We'll get you a new one." "That's not the point. All the plants are going to be damaged. We no longer have any façades." Song cursed under their breath. Without façades, only Ethan and Emi could leave the ship. Everyone else was either a fugitive or so abnormal looking that they couldn't keep a low profile. No façades added that extra level of awkward that Song didn't need. They grimaced, worrying their lip between their teeth."Go and see how many you can salvage." Isaac's blue head disappeared, and Song turned to the two girls. "Nadia, help Ethan and Peggy put the ship back together and Emi, make some food; we're in for a long day." Song climbed out of the crater, their black boots creating mini tornadoes of dust as they went. There was only empty desert for miles around so hopefully, no one saw them. They looked back towards their crew dotted around the wreckage. They looked like a Victorian freak show; 'gather round ladies and gentlemen and feast your eyes on today's line up'; a god, an elf, a pureblood, a bionic girl, an assassin, and Song, the weirdest of the bunch. If anyone were to find them when they had no façades, they would be handed over to the Eye before Song could say ‘I'm human, I swear.' As the sun continued its journey across the sky, Frankenstein slowly began to take its original form, the crew only stopping the reassembly to eat a pitiful meal of rehydrated bread and soggy vegetables washed down with diluted coffee. By sunset, only the beach huts needed to be reattached and after the last pastel blue one had been grafted onto the ship's belly, everyone relaxed, slumping onto the baked earth. The stars had started to pepper the sky, their shine muted by the pollutant fog that layered the atmosphere. Song traced the constellations with their finger, their burgundy coat a pillow under their head. They used to do this on their skin, circling the pockets of brown that stained the white, finding patterns and pictures that only they could decipher. Emi brought out a flask of hot chocolate and a family of chipped mugs, and Ethan started a modest campfire. They all sat around it, cupping warm ceramic in filthy, blistered fingers and watched the hypnotic movement of the flames. No one spoke much, everyone too exhausted by the day's work. They just sat and watched, each in their own world. They moved at dawn: Peggy kick-starting the heart that had been beating only enough to keep herself and Frankenstein alive; Ethan and Nadia hoisting the weathered sails that branched out along the spine of the ship, veering off at odd angles, and Song cranking the old-fashioned ship's wheel until Frankenstein lifted smoothly off the ground. Song joined the rest of the crew for breakfast in the storage container on the left side of the ship. They navigated through the series of pipes, a network of veins that pumped steam all over Frankenstein to keep everything working, climbed the Victorian staircase that ran through her centre and ducked through the porthole that opened into the container.
Emi was serving pickled eggs with dehydrated bacon and baked beans. Ethan had already demolished half his plate before Song had even sat down, shovelling food into his mouth as if he hadn't been fed for weeks. Nadia was staring at him in disgust despite having witnessed the grim spectacle every morning. Her own food was cut into even pieces that she ate slowly and methodically.
Isaac, on the other hand, barely touched his plate, preferring to fiddle with the tablecloth. His mask lay by his side, leaving his small, scarred mouth vulnerable to inquisitive stares. Despite his mangled features, numerous tattoos and ugly clothes, it was evident that Isaac had once been a very handsome boy. Handsome enough to be passed around like a plaything, a beautiful submissive doll. Everyone at that table had their secrets, their dark truths hidden beneath layers of merciful fiction. Song was no exception. They reached out their hand to accept a plate of food: a hand created in a freak accident, a hand that technically belonged to two separate people. "So," Emi exclaimed, finally taking her own seat, "where are we headed?" Song looked up to see five expectant faces. "North, to Gospel." Ethan's face screwed up in disgust and Nadia's ears twitched with agitation. "I know you're not the fondest of that place," they continued, "but we need to pick up supplies. We won't be staying long." "Couldn't we go to Milligan instead? The people are nicer and less…" Ethan paused to find the right word, chewing on a scrap of bacon thoughtfully, "holy." "No. Gospel is closer, and we are desperately low on food. Do you want to be eating dried scraps for another week?" No one replied but no one looked happy either. Song didn't blame them; Gospel was full of zealots who never stopped spouting Portalism nonsense. Luckily for most of the crew, only Ethan and Emi were permitted to head out without a façade so they would avoid the constant drone of religious sermons. "Also, we can't take any jobs until we have façades." Song looked at Isaac. "What could you salvage?" Isaac sighed, "Not a lot. All the bottles fell out of the cabinet but a few of the plants survived. I'm going to need to stop at Nightshade to replace what we've lost." In short, they were sitting ducks. "Try your best not to attract any trouble. I don't need hostiles swarming my ship. Heaven forbid, she's been battered enough." Johnny grinned. "Oh Song, since when have we caused any trouble?" In reply, Song only gave him a pointed look before picking up their plate and heading back to the wheel. The wheel was located at the front of the ship in an old crash pod. It was skewered onto the end of a crane that had been shrouded in metal to prevent drafts. Not all of it was salvageable after the crash and Song had to be careful not to fall out of the sky. The pod itself was thankfully undamaged, built to withstand high-velocity impacts and nuclear blasts. They had stolen it from a particularly nasty portal when Frankenstein was merely a tank with a Victorian house crudely jammed on top of it. Those were the days. It had just been them and Peggy back then, scrambling from portal to portal in the hopes of finding work. They sat at the wheel, sinking into the military style seat. On the back of the chair, Nadia had stitched the names of all the crew in gold thread. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't for the burn that had erased his name; an ugly black hole that sucked in any trace of a good mood. Set in the dashboard was a compass of polished brass. At each point was a different coloured stone that swirled and shone at its own accord. Only Song could read it. Only they could navigate the portals. They rested their hand on the compass and closed their eyes, one green and one brown. For a moment they flickered, turning transparent before splitting into two bodies. One was a short girl with wild ginger hair and green eyes, the other a tall black boy who wore assassins clothing and had twin swords strapped to his hips. Neither moved; they weren't conscious. Their souls had become a single entity, one that had a jumble of their traits and skills but none of their personality. From each person travelled a green spark that skittered along their faded skin and onto the hand of a semi-visible Song. The sparks joined and hovered just above Song's flesh before sinking through the back of their hand and into the centre of the compass. As soon as it settled, the bodies merged back into Song's, breathing life into their body and painting them in their colours. Song's eyes opened, taking a minute to focus. They slumped into their seat and breathed deep shuddering breaths. Calling on the spirits was never a pleasant experience. The green spark in the compass shot along the needle, making it spin wildly before it settled, pointing to the North stone. The stone swirled violently, a hurricane forming on its surface before the red mist burst from it and dissipated along the compass glass. In front of the ship, a pinprick of red light appeared. Within a fraction of a second, it had swelled to the size of a football and then to the size of a van and then to the size of a house. It looked like an angry spot on the skin of the universe, getting closer and closer to popping. Finally, like a volcano it exploded, jettisoning matter the colour of blood across the body of the ship and swallowing it in swirling lava. Frankenstein was pushed backwards, lose objects falling to the ground in a symphony of bruised metal. Song heard Ethan swear loudly as he fell down one of the ladders between platforms, quickly followed by an aggressive ‘mind your language.' - Emi; forever the mother. The ship soon settled down, suddenly flying through new space. The desert plains had disappeared only to be replaced by rolling meadows spread out like a patchwork blanket over the earth. It was spring in the Earth portal and flowers dotted the scenery like confetti. Song admired the vibrancy of the landscape. Gospel was one of the only places that hadn't been invaded by imposing industrial towers or destroyed by war. Of course, this meant that it was an infuriatingly backwards society full of prejudice and religious nuts, but it was a small price to pay for the view. They touched down in an unoccupied field, three miles west of the town. It was a smooth and safe landing in which nothing set on fire; just how Song liked it. As the engine stopped, Song heard the ship groan, its muscles relaxing as it released the tension of Portal travel. When it had first ridden the portals, it had buckled completely, collapsing in on itself like a tin can under the wheel of a car. They had been lucky to make it out alive. Song remembered having to reattach Peggy's arm with duct tape and lug her unconscious body across miles of marshland before they found anyone who could help. It had taken even longer to find someone who was willing to. Emi and Ethan slid down the hatch and out onto the grass. Each was dressed in inconspicuous clothing and all piercings and other jewellery had been removed. It had long become a tradition that the crew's accessories would be divided amongst the remaining members if they died. It was an unspoken bribe to ensure a safe return. Underneath their heavy travel cloaks, they each had numerous weapons strapped to their bodies in case they were recognised or wreaked havoc. Both were sometimes unavoidable. Within her sleeve pocket, Emi carried a shopping list of various food items and mundane supplies, the most paramount being hot chocolate thanks to Peggy's insistence. Ethan, on the other hand, had a list of items that would raise a few eyebrows and possibly lead to swords being drawn. Travelling the portals was dangerous work and it required certain insurances; explosive and potentially lethal insurances. They set off walking and chatting, looking to an untrained eye like ordinary citizens on their way to market. Ethan plucked one of the meadow flowers and tucked it behind Emi's ear and she smiled, blushing slightly. Song had to admit that they were good actors and the best spies. They'd been lucky to convince them to come on board at all; each had been as hostile as feral wolves. Emi had even clawed Song's face with a nasty set of knives. Hopefully, they would be back before sunset, laden with food and more dubious objects. After that, they only needed to smuggle themselves into Nightshade, buy a bunch of highly illegal plants and then they could be on their way. Just an average day aboard Ship Frankenstein.
