"Lissa, this is Captain Andrew Chapman," he introduced me to the tall, thin man who held out his hand so I shook it. "And this is Rear Admiral Dennis Hafer." Tony indicated the shorter, chubbier one clothed in white. Hafer felt obligated to shake and consequently, so did I.
"Show her where the boat is," Tony said so Captain Chapman led me to a table that held a large, electronic map.
"This is where we are, now," he pointed to a spot on the map. Unfortunately, the map didn't make any sense at all to me, looking to be a lot of numbered dots and wavy lines as it did. "This is where the pirates' craft is floating. They're holding the prisoner at gunpoint." He pointed to another spot, which wasn't far from the spot where he'd first put his finger.
"Okay," I said. "I know this makes sense to you, but you lost me on the first part. Why don't you point in the direction you want me to go and tell me how far it is in miles, feet or inches?" Silently I cursed myself for not paying more attention to the metric system over my lifetime as I watched a frown form on Captain Chapman's face.
"This is useless," Rear Admiral Dennis Hafer's voice was filled with contempt as he tossed up a hand and turned his back on us. The rear part of his title was correct; he was an ass, all right.
"Trust me," Tony said. Captain Chapman looked at him, then at me and sighed.
"They're about two miles away in that direction." He pointed toward the only window in the room. I could see the deck through it.
"I need all hands kept away from that portion of the deck out there," Tony said, hustling me away from the room.
The night air was cool around us, smelling of salt, fish and diesel exhaust from the ship's engines as Tony and I walked to the railing at the edge of the deck. The ship was huge and most of it blended in with the early evening mist forming about us. "I have this," Tony drew out a plastic bag that held a piece of cloth. "This is from one of the victim's shirts that haven't been washed." He pulled the bit of cloth from the bag and handed it to me. I sniffed it.
"Got it," I said, handing the cloth back and wondering if baying like a trailing bloodhound might be expected next.
"You don't need to take it with you?"
"I have a very good memory," I huffed. Scents stayed with me. Always. Tony scanned the deck around us, checking to see that no crew members were anywhere near.
"Go, Lissa. Bring this one back for me."
"Where do you want him delivered?" I asked.
"Control room," he nodded to the place we'd just left.
"All right. I'll do the best I can."
"Be careful, Lissy." He gave me a quick kiss. I turned to mist before he could take his lips from mine.
Misting over the ocean at a rapid rate of speed is a little disorienting. I realized quickly that I couldn't solidify again unless I wanted to be floating in seawater. There is no solid ground—nothing to hold onto or stand upon. I was also beginning to have my doubts about whether I could find the boat or not. I could be hunting a raindrop in the ocean; nobody told me how big the boat was or how many people were on it. Once again, I was flying blind. I misted low over the water as it rippled below me—a silent, massive behemoth that could stretch for fathoms beneath its constantly moving surface. I felt it was waiting to swallow me up if I made even the slightest mistake.
Five minutes it took. Five minutes before the scent of human bodies reached me. I zoned in on the smell right away and sped in that direction. The small boat I found was bobbing about in the water and there were ten men on board, most armed with rifles. One even had a rocket launcher. That's what it looked like, anyway, and the men appeared to be waiting for something or someone. A bigger ride, perhaps? Too bad—I got there first. Flying over the boat, I took stock of the situation. All the men aboard were armed except for one sitting in the middle. He didn't have a gun and was tied up and blindfolded instead. That looked like my target but I hovered around him just to make sure. It was the hostage, all right; he was the one whose scent I'd been given. His shirtless body was shivering and he might have been tortured—I could see dark marks on his chest and ribs. I could have grabbed him right then but thought about it for a second before coming up with an idea. My target sat in the center of the boat with three pirates around him who were watching closely. They were about to get a surprise from me. I misted down to the prisoner's feet. His captors weren't paying attention to those and it was dark anyway. Only one of my hands materialized in the dark. I touched my fingers to the bottom of the fiberglass boat and allowed my claws to slide out. When I turned my hand to mist again, there were four nice punctures in the boat and water was flooding in. Surrounding the prisoner, I turned him to mist instantly and got the hell out of there. I heard yells and screams coming from the boat as we flew away, along with a few gunshots, but they quickly faded as I put distance between us. My poor passenger was giving off vibes of pain and confusion as we traveled low over the water's surface. It's strange that I can know this about them while I carry them as mist.
Tony told me later that it took less than thirty minutes to do the rescue, start to finish. He was waiting for me and the man I'd rescued was nearly having a fit, even though he was gagged and trussed up when I dropped him on a chair inside the control room. I solidified quickly and helped Tony get the ropes off the prisoner. Tony was out the door after that, shouting for a corpsman.
The prisoner was going into shock; I could see that right away. He stared at me with wild eyes. "Don't worry," I placed compulsion. "Your friends got you out." He nodded and some of the shivering stopped. His blond hair was disheveled after extended exposure to the elements and his body definitely needed medical attention; he looked as if he'd been held for days, to be honest.
Four men rushed into the room; two carried cases filled with medical supplies. The other two were Captain Chapman and Rear Admiral Hafer, who stared in disbelief at the prisoner, at me and then at Tony. I might have more compulsion to lay if the growing light in the Rear Admiral's eyes meant anything.
"What about the pirates?" The Captain asked, eyeing the rescued man as the medics swarmed around him.
"I imagine they're bailing water and hoping for a rescue right now," I said, looking him in the eye. "There are nine of them and they smell terrible."
"Lissa, do you think you can find the way back to your room?" Tony asked distractedly, interrupting my conversation. He was busy with the prisoner and the corpsmen. Tony probably wanted to ask questions and I wasn't allowed to hear the prisoner's answers.