The next day arrived slower than Castin expected, like time itself was holding its breath.
Rat City was quiet in the way only the hours before something irreversible could be. The streets felt tighter, the walls closer. Even the water that ran beneath the floorboards of the launch platform seemed to churn more deliberately, as though the current knew where they were going and didn't approve.
Castin stood near the edge, arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching the boat bob gently in the dark canal water. He could feel the tension building behind his ribcage, a pressure he couldn't quite shake. That old, gnawing dread had returned, the one that always crawled up the back of his neck before a mission.
He hated this part. The waiting. The not-knowing.
Not knowing if the people you leave with will be the same ones you come back with.
The boat was moored to the stone dock with thick rope, swaying slightly in place as its engine hummed low and steady, the sound like a distant throat clearing. It looked like something from a salvage yard's fever dream, half pontoon, half cruiser, its hull a patchwork of welded scrap and reinforced plating. Thick copper rivets ran down the sides in uneven lines, holding mismatched panels together like the skin of a stitched-together beast. The top deck held a long, flat cabin of faded steel with narrow slits for windows and a rusted turret mount that had clearly been repurposed as a base for a loading crane.
And yet, somehow, it didn't look fragile.
It looked tested. Proven.
"Pretty, isn't she?" came a gravelly voice from behind him.
Castin turned to see a broad-shouldered rat with fur gone more salt than pepper. He wore a heavy oil-stained vest with the sleeves torn off and a belt full of tools slung lazily across his hips. His nose had clearly been broken at least twice, and one ear was notched all the way through. A battered welder's mask hung from his shoulder strap, and his hands were stained darker than engine grease, calloused like tree bark.
The rat grinned wide, nodding toward the boat. "Built her myself. Well... me and the river, I guess. She gave me the bones, I gave her a spine."
He extended a grease-darkened paw. "Name's Dren Talver. But folks around here just call me Rivets."
Castin raised an eyebrow, shaking the offered hand. "Rivets?"
The older rat chuckled. "You'll figure out why once you see how many are holding this girl together. Just don't count them while we're underway, you might start praying."
Castin smirked faintly. "As long as she floats."
"Oh, she floats. Sometimes she even listens."
Rivets leaned on the rail and gave the boat a fond pat. "Ain't the prettiest ship in the deep runs, but she's family."
Castin leaned against the dock railing, unable to hide the amusement that was beginning to form despite himself. Rivets continued running his hand fondly along the railing, almost like he was comforting a beloved pet.
"Ever piloted something this fine?" Rivets asked, pride evident in his gravelly tone.
Castin shrugged lightly. "Can't say I've ever piloted something quite this... unique."
Rivets laughed heartily, the sound deep and full. "Oh, she's unique, alright. Half of her parts weren't even built for boats, but—"
A sudden shout interrupted him, echoing sharply from below deck. A woman's voice, strong and tinged with frustration, rose clearly over the hum of the engine. "Rivets! This damn leak's back again, thought you said you fixed this?"
Rivets rolled his eyes, shaking his head ruefully at Castin. "And that'd be my right-hand man, always keeping me honest." He turned toward the sound and raised his voice. "Hold tight, Jen! Be down in a second." He cast a sidelong glance at Castin, chuckling. "Come on, young man. Time for you to meet the boat properly, and my first mate."
Castin followed Rivets down the short plank onto the deck, feeling the sturdy hum beneath his boots. The craft was stable, far more solid than its patchwork appearance suggested. Just as they reached the hatch that led below, it swung open with an impatient shove, and a young woman emerged, wiping greasy hands on a rag.
She was scrappy and lean, short blonde hair tousled in careless waves that just brushed her shoulders. Brown eyes, sharp, alert, and decidedly unimpressed at the moment, surveyed Rivets critically, the corner of her mouth twitching into a familiar smirk.
"Tell me again why I'm still trying to keep this rust bucket afloat?" she said, nodding her head toward the open hatch, exasperation bleeding into affection. "Third time this week we've sprung the same leak."
Rivets waved her complaint off lightly, pretending offense. "Hey now, careful with the insults. She might be old, but she's got feelings. Besides, you fixed it just fine last time."
The woman snorted, shaking her head, but her eyes sparkled with humor. "Apparently not, seeing as I'm doing it again." She tossed the rag aside, glancing briefly toward Castin with sudden curiosity. Her expression softened, shifting easily from frustration to a welcoming warmth.
There was something oddly familiar about the way she carried herself, posture, maybe, or just the way her eyes lingered a second too long. But Castin brushed the feeling off as déjà vu. He'd been on edge for days. His nerves were playing tricks.
Rivets straightened as if suddenly remembering his manners. "Oh, where's my head? Jennifer, this here's Castin. Castin, meet my right-hand man and first mate, Jennifer."
Jennifer stepped forward, extending her hand with an easy confidence. Castin took it, noting the firm, sure grip that spoke of someone accustomed to hard work.
"Nice to meet you," she said with a friendly grin, eyes bright and open. "Hope Rivets hasn't been overselling our pride and joy here."
Castin chuckled, glancing around at the mishmash of metal and ingenuity. "Not at all. He made sure to mention how often prayers might be necessary."
Jennifer laughed genuinely, her demeanor immediately easing any lingering awkwardness. "Yeah, sounds about right. Well, if it comes to that, we'll show you where the life jackets are stashed."
Rivets groaned dramatically, pressing a paw to his forehead. "The disrespect around here."
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Someone's gotta keep you humble, old man."
Rivets shook his head, feigning indignation. "Fine, fine. Go check on the welds again. We'll be casting off soon enough."
Jennifer gave Castin a final, reassuring nod before ducking back below deck. Rivets watched her go, shaking his head fondly. "Best shipmate I've ever had. Knows this old boat better than I do sometimes. Hell, she even patched the hull with dinner trays once. Swears I was the one who thought of it."
Castin smiled faintly, feeling strangely at ease despite the circumstances. "Seems like you two have been through a lot."
Rivets chuckled, already moving toward the helm. "More than you can imagine, friend. Now, best find yourself somewhere to settle. We'll be leaving as soon as your friends arrive, and I promise you, this trip ain't one you'll forget."
Castin watched Rivets ascend the steps, then turned to peer thoughtfully at the hatch where Jennifer had disappeared. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but somehow, this felt exactly like what they needed, solid people, even if their boat was patched together from scraps and hope.
Castin was leaning against the rusted railing near the bow when the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the platform. He turned slightly, catching sight of Kiernan making his way across the dock with a loose, loping stride and a satchel slung over his shoulder.
"Well I'll be damned," Kiernan called out, a crooked grin tugging at his face. "Didn't think you'd be the first one here."
Castin gave a half-shrug. "Didn't feel like sleeping in."
Kiernan stopped beside him, glancing out at the patched-together boat with open curiosity. "You meet Rivets yet?"
"Yeah," Castin nodded. "Hard to miss him. I also met his first mate, Jennifer. Seems nice enough."
Kiernan blinked, his expression shifting just slightly. "Jennifer? I've never—"
Before the thought could finish, a voice chimed in smoothly from behind them.
"Oh, Kiernan! You joined us after all."
Both men turned as Jennifer stepped out from below deck, wiping her hands on a rag with an easy, practiced motion. Her smile was warm, eyes shining like she'd known them both for years.
Kiernan's slight frown disappeared instantly. He straightened with a familiar smile, nodding toward her. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."
Castin studied him for a beat longer than necessary. There was something odd in the way Kiernan shifted, just a hair too fast, his body language clicking into place like a puzzle piece forced to fit.
Maybe they had history, Castin thought, shrugging it off. Kiernan got around, and the tunnels weren't exactly full of strangers anymore. He'd seen plenty of odd friendships down here that made no sense on paper. One more wasn't worth overthinking.
Jennifer, for her part, showed no sign of discomfort. She moved with the ease of someone used to tight corridors and tighter deadlines, her attention already on the loading crane as she brushed past them waving casually toward the deck equipment. "Everything's looking good, Rivets had me triple-check the welds again. He's nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Rivets called from the wheelhouse, not looking up. "I just remember the last time someone else checked the welds."
Jennifer rolled her eyes affectionately. "It's always the boat's fault until it isn't."
Kiernan chuckled, settling easily beside Castin as he offered him a lopsided grin. "Bet you Garret and Vance show up last, loser's gotta cook dinner."
Castin shot Kiernan an incredulous look "There is no way I'd take that bet, of course they're gunna be last."
Almost as if on cue, Matias arrived without fanfare, his silhouette emerging from the shadows of the dock like it had always been part of the boat's outline. His dark coat was damp at the hem, eyes sharp and unreadable beneath the low light. He stepped aboard silently and set his pack down beside the weapons crate before giving the deck a once-over with a soldier's eye.
"See, I knew you were trying to get one over on me." Castin sneered at Kiernan as they watched Matias.
Matias crouched, checked the latches on the crates, ran his claws across the seams, and nodded once, just enough to say everything was where it should be. Then he stood, dusted off his paws, and glanced toward Kiernan.
"Hey," Matias said, voice low. "I never got the chance to thank you before."
Kiernan looked over, slightly caught off guard.
Matias turned to face him fully. "Thank you for bringing Talia back for me. I just... I sort of lost it when I saw her that day. Didn't say what I should've."
Kiernan's face softened. "You know I didn't do it for thanks," he said. "But you're welcome."
They left it at that, no need for long words or gestures. The kind of moment soldiers shared without ceremony.
Castin stood near the bow, only half listening. His thoughts had already started to drift, forward, toward the thing he assumed they were all trying not to think about.
Nikodemus.
A man who'd apparently once promised peace through innovation, who now seemingly claimed to want to end the cycle of bloodshed brought on by war. Castin thought he remembered something in Roe's diary, some vague claim about ending war, pulling soldiers off the battlefield.
But people like Nikodemus didn't build devices that erased willpower.
They didn't leave daughters behind in cages knowingly or not. Didn't reduce whole city blocks to ash and then vanish into the smoke like ghosts only to return with fresh new horrors.
If there was even what you could call a man left in that stronghold, Castin could still hold him accountable for all of this. Whatever they found waiting at the end of this canal, he doubted it would look anything like salvation.
A shout pulled him out of the spiral.
"—and you still didn't pay, Garret!"
"I said I forgot my wallet!"
Vance's voice rang out across the dock, and Garret's laughter chased it like a wake. The two came stomping toward the boat, arguing in full voice, Garret with a half-eaten bun in one paw and absolutely no remorse on his face.
Castin turned to Kiernan and Matias with a dry look. "Were they this loud last time?"
Kiernan snorted. "The two knuckleheads are always this loud off-mission."
"Like clockwork," Matias added, though there was something almost affectionate in the grumble.
"Garret! Vance!" Jennifer's voice rang out as she popped back up from below deck, grease still smudging one sleeve. She grinned and made her way toward them, launching into a practiced, ridiculous-looking handshake that involved three slaps, a twist, and a chest tap.
Garret matched it like muscle memory, and Vance followed with his own version, half as smooth, twice as grumpy.
Castin watched from where he leaned against the railing, arms crossed. He didn't speak, didn't interrupt. Just watched.
Jennifer looked like she'd always belonged here.
Castin leaned casually on the rail, watching the last crumbs of Garret's bun disappear into his mouth. He smirked and said loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, "Looks like you're on dinner duty tonight, Kiernan."
Garret's ears perked up immediately, tail flicking with excitement. "More food? I'm in."
Kiernan groaned. "Hey, hey, we didn't take the bet!"
That caught Garret's and Vance's attention. They exchanged a quick look, full of suspicion and curiosity.
"What bet?" Garret asked, crumbs spraying a little as he spoke.
Castin chuckled dryly. "Kiernan here bet I'd cook if you two weren't the last to show up. Guess who showed up last, loud as ever?"
Vance rolled his eyes. "We had legitimate reasons."
"Yeah," Garret chimed in, patting his stomach. "Survival."
Kiernan threw up his hands in mock surrender as Garret and Vance dissolved into snickers, stomping across the deck to stow their gear.
Castin let it drift off, glancing sideways just in time to catch Matias slipping quietly below deck. His instincts kicked in. Without hesitating, he pushed off the rail and followed.
The hatch creaked faintly as Castin descended. The air grew thicker below, saturated with the smells of engine oil and river damp. The corridor stretched tight and narrow, bolted steel plates lining the walls. Welds crisscrossed every surface resembling the wild growth of plants almost like patterns of ivy, hasty repairs layered over older, sloppier ones. Patches of different colored metals spotted the floor and ceiling. Castin couldn't help but feel a small lurch of unease.
How in the hell was this thing still floating?
He ducked under a low-hanging pipe and found Matias checking the weapons rack bolted to the inner hull, methodically inspecting each strap and latch.
"Matias," Castin said, keeping his voice low.
Matias glanced at him but said nothing.
"I have questions about Jennifer."
Matias wiped a paw on his pant leg, still not fully looking at him.
Castin pressed on. "Why have I never heard of her before? Everyone seems to know her. And yet... I've never once heard a whisper about another human working this close to Red. Not since—" He stopped himself before he said it. Before he said Nikodemus out loud.
Matias shrugged, as if the question barely warranted attention. "I guess it just never came up."
Castin's jaw tensed. "You don't think it should've come up?" he pushed, irritation threading into his voice. "It's not like we're swimming in humans down here."
Finally, Matias stopped what he was doing. Turned toward Castin, fully facing him. His expression wasn't angry, just tired.
"I didn't know that was so important to you,"
Matias said quietly.
Before Castin could fire back, there was a sharp clatter behind them. They both turned to see Jennifer stumbling halfway down the narrow stairs, a coil of rope she must have knocked loose bouncing at her feet.
"Sorry, boys," she said brightly, trying to sound casual. "Am I interrupting something?"
Matias straightened instantly, brushing past Castin without hesitation. "No. Castin was just leaving."
Castin shot him a look, frustrated and burning under his skin, but he didn't argue. He turned toward the stairs, intent on heading back up.
That was until he caught Jennifer sneaking a glance at him, nervous but open, like she was trying to figure out whether she'd somehow made things worse.
Castin stopped at the bottom step. His hand gripped the railing tighter than necessary.
He turned back around slowly. Looked Jennifer dead in the eyes.
"How have I never heard of you?" he asked, the words rougher than he meant. "Never seen you before?"
Jennifer blinked, startled by the bluntness. She hesitated a heartbeat too long.
"I... I was working with Rivets," she said finally, forcing a small smile. "Mostly under the docks. Repairing the boat, testing welds. I guess I was just... out of the way."
Castin stared at her a second longer than necessary. Everything about her posture said sincerity. Everything about his gut said something else entirely.
But the doubt made him feel ridiculous. Paranoid.
He deflated, shoulders sagging slightly. "Oh," he muttered, embarrassed, and turned back toward the stairs without another word.
He didn't see the way Jennifer's shoulders tensed as he left.
Outside, the cold air slapped the heat out of his face. Castin leaned against the forward railing again, squinting out at the dark, sluggish water.
A few minutes later, the hatch creaked again. Matias emerged, silent as a shadow, and came to stand a few feet away.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Matias said, quiet but firm, "What was that back there?"
Castin didn't move. Didn't look at him.
"You need to apologize to her," Matias continued. "She doesn't owe you her life story just because she's human too."
Castin exhaled harshly through his nose and turned around, meeting Matias's gaze head-on. "That's not what this is about and you know it. It just... it all feels off."
Matias's expression softened slightly. He stepped closer, voice lower. "Maybe it's just the stress. We're all crammed together, nerves fried. We're about to walk into something we're not coming back from easy. It messes with your head."
Castin clenched his jaw, feeling that knot of guilt tightening in his gut.
"I know," he said, voice rough. "You're right."
Matias nodded once. "But I'm not the one you need to apologize to."
Castin looked away, biting down the pride that threatened to choke him.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know. I'll make it up to her."
Matias clapped a paw lightly against Castin's shoulder, then turned and wandered back toward the others, leaving Castin alone with the dark water, the creaking ship, and his own restless doubts.
He leaned against the railing, staring out across the canal. The low hum of the boat's engine filled the heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of laughter drifting up from below deck.
Footsteps approached, quieter, more deliberate than the others had been and Castin turned just enough to catch sight of Lorne making his way up onto the deck. His coat was pulled close against the damp air, his face unreadable in the half-light.
Castin let out a quiet breath and said, "I honestly forgot you were coming. This wreck's a lot to take in."
Before Lorne could answer, Rivets' gravelly voice rang out from the helm. "Hey! Be nice to my lady!"
Castin smirked, shooting a look over his shoulder toward Rivets, who was pretending to be scandalized as he checked a rusted gauge.
"No offense," Castin called back dryly. "She's... got character."
"Damn right she does," Rivets muttered, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath about 'young folks and no respect.'
Lorne chuckled low in his throat, the sound more genuine than Castin expected.
For a few heartbeats, the tension that had been weighing down Castin's chest lifted a fraction. Just a little.
Lorne leaned on the railing beside him. "Wouldn't miss this mess for the world," he said dryly, nodding toward the water.
Castin let a small, crooked smile pull at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well... hope you brought a life jacket."
Lorne stayed quiet for a moment, resting his forearms against the railing, his gaze following the slow, oily ripple of the canal.
Then, without looking at Castin, he asked, almost too casually, "You think we're all gonna make it out of this?"
The question hung there, heavier than the mist rolling off the water. It wasn't desperate. It wasn't even fearful.
Just... real. Raw.
Castin's fingers tightened slightly around the cold metal rail. For a second, he didn't answer.
Didn't want to lie. Didn't want to say the wrong thing.
In the end, he just spoke the only truth he had.
"I really damn hope so, Lorne."
The two of them stood in silence after that, the steady hum of the boat filling the spaces between their breaths.
Ahead of them, the darkness of the tunnel mouth yawned wider, swallowing the faint light cast from the boat as they bobbed, waiting.
Waiting for them to finally sail into whatever end was waiting for them.