9th of Nextious, 7:15 a.m.

                Rick stepped back gasping at the words in blood before rushing towards the deck hand and grabbing him roughly. “What do you know of this murder?”

                “Sir, Please, this container must be spotless in an hour.”

                Rick leaned close, “I do not care. What happened.” He growled.

                “A man, he went by Ladrian. Stabbed three times in the chest.” The deck hand was nearly hyperventilating. “He was still alive when found but died within minutes after he was discovered. That is, it sir, truly.”

                “Bah,” Rick threw the deckhand down. As he landed Rick heard a solid clunk from his left glove. Looking back down at him he sent a translucent pole down to hold his hand to the floor. “What. Is. In. your. Glove?”

                “n…n…nothing…nothing sir.”

                Releasing the green pole, he grabbed the deck hands hand and tore the glove off. There, on his left middle finger, was a prosthetic finger, instead of a flesh one. Rick began to shake, his vision swam as he growled between clenched teeth, “you… you are the man who ordered my wife’s death?”

                The deckhand began to cry, “I have only been here for six months, I have done nothing of the sort. The… the captain, he… he cuts this finger off all who are under him to permanently mark them. You can ask any on the ship.” A wave of nausea hit Rick, he dropped the deck hand and rushed to the side of the boat and dry heaved for what felt like an eternity.

                Returning to the container, Felicia looking at him concerned, he bent down to the deck hands level. “I have checked, there are no cameras. If you speak to anyone about our interaction, then I will ensure you are the next to die."

                He just nodded mutely.

                Rick stood and limped out.

                “What was that?” Felicia demanded once they were on their own.

                “I,” Rick looked into her beautiful blue eyes. “I am a Detective, well, ex-detective Rick Arthur Estle. I am fleeing for my life from both the government and criminals which seem to be the same thing, and… and I am trapped on a boat with nowhere to go if I am found out.”

                Felice’s face softened. “If that deck hand speaks you will be found out.”

                “I know.”

                “Let’s get breakfast, I hear they have coffee strong enough to dissolve a spoon. That may help you.”

                He just nodded.

                The moment he had eaten some breakfast of strong coffee, burnt toast and unseasoned powdered eggs a burly man grabbed him and gruffly said, “time to paint.”

                Rick spent the day sweating, and shaking, as he crawled on his hands and knees painting the deck gray. Jarod came up to him and brought some iced coffee. and gave it to him near midday. “I hope this helps.”

                Rick smiled, “I’ll be down in a minute for lunch.”

                Jarod nodded and rushed off. Rick stood and leaned a shaky hand against the railing. The sea was a beautiful blue gray as it reflected the gray sky. Out in the distance what appeared to be a mountain in the water seemed to be shifting. Rick wiped the sweat from his eyes thinking he was seeing things but not there seemed to be a moving mountain. Looking he saw one of the burly men and grabbed motioned to him. “What island is that?”

                “There is no island here.” He said as he grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked. His hands began to shake, and he began whispering something in a foreign language before falling to his knees while singing and crying.

                “What?” Rick questioned.

                “Sar’tchan.” The man whispered. “He is here.” As he finished saying that two bells began to ring by the bridge playing a song that was unfamiliar to Rick.

                The hump in the ocean grew closer revealing brown fins extending out of the water cutting the surface like a knife. It pulled up alongside the ship Rick the length of it appeared to extend into eternity. Then it began to rise out of the water. Brown fins, dark green scales, and red outlining the features of its massive face, a face that was at minimum half the length of the ship. It raised its head to the sky and mimicked the sound of the bells at an ear shattering volume. The ship rocked violently causing Rick to lose his balance and fall on to his back. People crowded the deck singing and crying. Then Sar’tchan turned and dove into the water its great length followed as it went down into the unknown, black, depths.

                Rick released a breath he did not realize he had been holding as people swarmed to the ocean and began scooping water into any container they had. Rick slowly stood and hobbled to the mess hall that was nearly empty.

                The meal itself was uneventful, and the menu was identical to the previous night. As he was leaving to go to his bed Felice grabbed him and steered him to her container. “Wha- What are you doing?”

                “You are sick, withdrawal would be my guess, Jarod and I are going to keep an eye on you.” In her container she pushed him onto the one cot, and she put a bucket beside him. “Lay down,” She put a wet rag on his forehead. “I snuck into the little infirmary they have and found some strong sleeping pills. You are going to get some sleep tonight.”

                Before he could gather his wits to respond she placed a pill in one hand and a glass in the other. With the prospect of good sleep, he took the medicine and fell fast asleep.

                The morning came in what felt like a blink of an eye. Felice and Jarod were up and eating breakfast. Felice smiled, “We brought the breakfast back here today. You should eat up.”

                Shaking he grabbed the plate and began to eat.

                “There was another murder,” Felice said casually.

                “What!” Rick stood, “I need to find out who-”

                “And what? guarantee you are found out, don’t be foolish. You need to keep your head down.”

                “Fine but was there a message.”

                “Not this time.”

                “Huh, well, I guess he said what he wanted to say in the first one.”

                “I suppose so,”

                “Well, I have to take a leak,” Rick said stretching. “Then I will probably need to get to painting.”

                Stepping onto deck Rick went up to the first deckhand he saw, “Where was the murder?”

                “Over there,” he pointed to the front of the ship.

                Once there he found the deck hand from the previous day scrubbing the deck. “What happened?” Asked Rick.

                “Man was jumped, and also stabbed three times in the chest, Detective.”

                “Besides the murder being committed here instead of in his sleeping quarters was there anything else different about this murder?”

                “Well, this one was only meant to be a distraction and not to lure you into showing yourself.”

                Rick stared at the deck hand, his mind working sluggishly until everything clicked into place, with a yell he turned and dashed as fast as his bum leg and groaning ribs could take him back to Felice. Bursting into the container he saw the captain standing with Felice and Jarod tied up behind him.

                Silently he sent the translucent rope from his hand towards the captain. But without moving a muscle a translucent pole connected the captain to Rick, chest to chest. “How?” Rick asked.

                “You are not the only one who can silently use Inchemy. Though, unlike you, I don’t need the crutch of waving my hands.”

                Thick hands grabbed Rick from behind, and before he could react, he felt a pinch against his neck then everything went black.