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“PIRATES!”
The deck of the merchant ship Cody had bought passage on was filled with a cacophony of noise and activity. Deckhands swabbing the deck, the scent of tar pungent in his nose. Experienced sailors calling to each other from the rigging. Another passenger had a drum, which he was playing to entertain (or possibly irritate, if Cody's vote counted) the crew.
It all silenced the moment that cry split the air.
Cody forced down the urge to reach for the sword that wasn't on his waist. Soldiering was behind him now. This fight wasn't his. He'd learned his lesson about fighting impossible battles - he'd be cannon fodder for no man ever again.
A sailor slid down from the rigging, tanned skin paler than a bleached bone. He must have been the one who sounded the alarm, but when he spoke next his voice was barely above a whisper.
“It's the Twilight.”
Awe. Horror. A kind of fear laced with admiration, like a sailor felt being lured to his death by a siren.
Cody moved to the railing, slipping the scope he'd traded two knives for out of his belt. The ship creeping closer on the horizon was unremarkable, but the flag snapping on the wind was anything but. A black field and in the middle of it a white skull over two blue blades. The flag that sent terror into the heart of sailors - merchant, Kings shilling and pirate alike.
The merchant crew white-knuckled pistols, drew cutlasses that had likely never seen battle. Brave, to a one, but foolish. As foolhardy as their captain who thought that paintings of cannons were equally as effective as the real thing. Unless the paintings could fire a shot that would topple that pirate vessel's mast, Cody didn't see the logic in it. But what did he know? He'd only trained among the supposed best army in the world.
Cody, along with the handful of other paying passengers, was ushered towards the hold of the ship. Among the spices and silks the vessel was carrying. He hovered on the ladder, ears ringing with the almighty boom of cannon fire. A single shot. A warning.
Don't try and flee. You'll be shot out of the water.
Cody's feet refused to take him downwards, into the cramped, dark hold awaiting him. Most pirate captains would have fired a whole barrage, weakening their target, incentivising them not to try anything brave. This captain was different. Perhaps. It could be that he simply didn't want to waste expensive shot or risk sinking the ship before he could claim his plunder. Yet Cody didn't feel any flush of terror, didn't recognise a creeping sense like he was about to meet his maker.
He felt intrigued.
And, if this was the day that he would be tossed into the locker, he would rather spend his last moments under the endless blue of the sky. Not hiding in the hold like a child clinging to it's mother's skirts.
Cody moved to stand by the mast, sparing a thought to hope that the pirate captain wouldn't aim his cannons to take out the masts, trying his best to keep out of the way.
The merchant vessel seemed to hold its breath. Minutes passed like seconds. Every blink, every breath brought the pirates closer. The Twilight came alongside, overeager merchant sailors wasting valuable shot firing in a warning that wouldn't be heeded.
And then, they were there. Swinging in on ropes, dancing over planks balanced between the ships. The pirate crew. The Negotiator's sailors.
Cody's attention should have been on the first boarder. A man dressed from top to toe in black, eyes glinting over a dangerous smirk, armed with a pistol and a sword. Radiating piratical lethality, he was clearly marked as the one to watch, to target. Yet, Cody's gaze was caught by the man to his right, leaping over the side of the ship, smile more polished but every bit as dangerous. Russet hair topped with a simple black hat, eyes bluer than the crystalline depths of the Caribbean. A saber, not a cutlass, held like an extension of his hand.
Cody's heart jackrabbited, pulse thundering in his ears. He could feel each second as they passed like a quiet eternity, each breath as it shuddered in his lungs. Yet, this wasn't fear. The furthest thing from it.
It was only a moment. Just a space between heartbeats. Yet when those crystalline eyes fell on Cody - passing over him, really - it was like they'd sunk a hook into his innards and pulled. A tug, not painful but insistent, drawing him towards the pirate.
More pirates, a dozen maybe more, swarmed the deck. Holding in place, alert but not aggressive. Like a rank of infantry on the battlefield, waiting for the command to attack. For a breath, two. Then the fight began. And a more one-sided fight Cody had rarely seen. Merchants disarmed, wounded but not killed, pistols kicked across the deck, sent overboard.
Pirates fighting to subdue not to massacre. A skill and a mercy undemonstrated by many a crew who flew the black flag. The merchant crew were too close, too caught in the burn of adrenaline - the fight for their lives - to appreciate that.
A cutlass skidded past Cody, halting with its tip pressed to the base of the discarded drum. A deckhand with smears of black tar staining his clothes dived for it, reaching like he could turn the tide of the assault himself.
The shot ripped through the drum - not a loss as far as Cody was concerned - working it's magic instantly. The deckhand fell back from the cutlass, Cody feeling more than seeing a sharp smile flashing through the rigging. Gone before Cody could see the face it belonged to.
Part of Cody, buried deep and indoctrinated young, ached for a musket in his hand, a sword flowing from his arm. To join the fight, whet his steel with blood and have his pound of flesh. Battle was a fever and death its waste. Cody could - would - fight if his life depended on it, but the pirates were a class of their own. He could feel their restraint, the calculation of each attack, each defense. And, if he were honest, the thought of drawing steel against the russet haired pirate was one that made his stomach twist in rebellion.
The black pirate raised his pistol, firing once into the air. The merchant crew, brave to a one but helplessly outmatched, froze. Some mid-lunge, most sprawled over the deck like a wave had tossed them there.
"Listen carefully!" the black pirate called, sharp and dangerous as his smile. "We're going to say this only once!"
Give us your treasure or it's the locker for you!
Words Cody expected to hear. Some variation of them, at least. Pirate threats didn't have to be more inventive than that. Fear of the locker could spur the most lionhearted man to compliance. Words that never spoke themselves into existence.
The russet haired man stepped forward, light and sure, yet never more than an arm length from his companion. "We apologise for the inconvenience," he began, Cody's eyes nearly closed at the sound of his voice. Cultured, soft, if not comforting than reasonable. A voice made to be listened to. But asking for that right, not demanding it. "But, I'm afraid we have to relieve you of your cargo."
The Captain, Cody realised, cursing himself for how obvious it ought to have been. The Negotiator himself.
Captain Whorm, if Cody had deciphered his gruff introduction correctly, stepped out of the shadows. "Our cargo is spoken for."
The black pirate rolled his eyes. "That's why we're relieving you of it."
The Pirate Captain sent his companion a look tinged with exasperation. He took another step forward, meeting Captain Whorm's eyes. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, you have my word of honour that no harm shall come to you as long as you comply."
Whorm stared at Kenobi for a long time, the tension so thick Cody doubted even the pirate's saber could saw through it. A tiny nod broke the stalemate. "You have our word," Whorm uttered, heavy with resigned defeat. "We surrender."
Kenobi turned to the black pirate. "Anakin, start loading the cargo." His eyes turned back to Whorm. "Your ship and crew will be returned to you once we're finished."
Whorm grunted, striding back into the Captain's cabin as if he was washing his hands of the whole situation.
Cody watched, sheltered by the mast, as the spices and silks were unloaded. Shouldered onto pirates and slung across the gap to the Twilight.
The pirates were as efficient in unloading as they were in battle, forming a line to move the cargo. Not a single movement wasted. Practiced, routine, confident. Yet Cody wasn't naive enough to imagine they were no longer on their guard. Being the best didn't come with relaxing in a dangerous situation. That just made you dead. Or stupid.
Like the sailor Cody could see out of the corner of his eye. Anger burning in his face, a pistol clenched tight in a sweaty grip.
Cody put his hand on top of the sailor's pistol. "Your captain surrendered," he murmured, pitching his voice low so that the pirates didn't hear. "Keep your honour."
The sailor, too young by far, burdened with the invincibility of youth and inexperience, glared. He wrenched the pistol away, met with the point of a saber. His throat bobbed as he followed the shining metal up to its owner, hard blue eyes staring back.
"I'd listen to your companion, if I were you," the Pirate Captain said, voice still soft and reasonable. Coaxing for the best outcome. "We truly wish not to cause any unnecessary injury."
A lesser man would have run him through by now.
"Let it go," Cody added, imploring the kid not to try and be a hero. He'd seen far too many die in name of that mentality.
The pistol dropped into Cody's waiting hand, Obi-Wan turning his back as if trusting Cody not to fire the shot into it. He wouldn't, of course, but that was an astonishing display of trust to a stranger.
Cody would have done the same to him.
A bolt of vibrant silk was hauled out of the hold, a final barrel of spices following. More pirates were aboard the Twilight than they were the merchant vessel. The end so close, Cody could taste the bitter tang of it.
"Obi! That's the last of the cargo stored away!" A young woman, smiling a sharptoothed smile, leaned over the railing from the Twilight. Her blue hair danced in the light breeze, Obi-Wan giving her a slight nod in acknowledgement.
The pirate captain turned back to face the merchant crew. "You kept your word," Obi-Wan called, approval in his eyes. "As we will keep ours. Your ship is yours. May the winds favour you." A nod, like a benediction, and Obi-Wan turned away for the last time.
This was it. Cody's heart dropped through his boots, his breath caught in his chest. The tug in his guy intensified, but he stayed rooted to the deck. Obi-Wan and his crew were leaving; there was nothing Cody could do.
Obi-Wan stopped by the plank, arching a look over his shoulder at Cody. "Are you coming?"
For the life of him, Cody couldn't have said what it was that made him accept. There was something in Obi-Wan's eyes, in the way he held himself, in the empathetic twist of his mouth. Recognising a kindred spirit, perhaps. No, Cody couldn't articulate what it was, but he knew he'd regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't grab this opportunity with both hands.
He scooped up the simple canvas bag that held his few belongings (displaced from the hold during the liberation of the cargo), squared his jaw, and crossed to Obi-Wan. The pirate held out his hand, strangely smooth for a man in his occupation. Cody didn't hesitate, closing his hand around Obi-Wan's, crossing the plank behind him.
And there he was. Safe and sound, home aboard a pirate vessel.
"Welcome aboard the Twilight," the black pirate, Anakin, grinned, bouncing in place like a child promised extra pudding. "You're gonna love it!"
"All us strays do," the young woman added, dropping down from the rigging with more grace than Cody possessed in his lifetime. She cocked her head, regarding Cody curiously. "You're the first stray Obi has brought onboard though. Usually it's just Skyguy."
Anakin protested, the sound drowned out by a rich chuckle from beside Cody. "Ahsoka, stop teasing Anakin. Anakin, she is right." Obi-Wan, apparently oblivious to the fact they were still holding hands, turned to him. "And so is Anakin. Welcome aboard…"
"Cody," Cody supplied, sensing he was supposed to. "Just Cody."
Whoever else he had once been, didn't matter anymore. This was a fresh start, being Cody was enough.
Blue eyes sparkled brighter than the sun off the ocean. "Welcome aboard, Cody."
Obi-Wan's fingers trailed over Cody's own as he let go, his touch lingering. The warmth of it enduring long after.