The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 18: "Searching"

The Harbor (West)

Markus snarled in frustration as he sent his fist crashing through the holographic projection. The metal prosthetic bounced harmlessly off the reinforced surface of the wall. He slumped into a nearby chair and rubbed his eyes. The full-scale projection of The Sea covered every surface of the room, and yet it seemed too limited, or perhaps the pirates possessed some sort of technology that made them invisible to the scanners Denahlia's tech used.

"At least," Markus muttered bitterly to himself, "if I was on that crew, I'd definitely make sure we had some kind of signal jammer or disrupter!"

He gazed around that wide expanse of water, eyeing the array of islands against the far wall, and the wide stretch of mainland joust crossing her desk. Where could they be taking her, and why?

A knock on the door, and the exterior microphone clicked on.

"Hello?" said Hayden, the Harbormaster. "Agent Markus? The repairs along the docks are underway. I came by to see if you needed any—"

Markus cut off the sound of his voice with a wave of his hand. "Go away! I can handle this on my own!" He flipped open the video feed from the camera posted over the door, watching until Hayden gave up waiting and walked away.

Markus clapped his hands together, and the holograms disappeared.

"If I was Denahlia, and I needed to track a mark," he mused, pacing back and forth, "What would I do?"

His cousin made her tech implants look so effortless—his father had explained that it was because she had no idea she was implanted, just that she had a "gift" she could control that gave her an advantage in any situation. While he always knew that there was a part of his body that had been artificially attached, Denahlia had no reason to think that her changing eyesight was any less natural than any other part of her body. As far as she knew, using her "Gift" wasn't relying on tech, it was trusting her own instincts and intuition. And if the bounty hunting tech ever failed, Denahlia the Hunter wouldn't hesitate to go old-school.

Markus directed his weary gaze at the weathered old filing cabinet in the corner. He checked the drawers till he found one that was full of nautical charts and maps.

"Old school it is!" he said, laying out the maps on the desktop screen. He set the scanners to charting out the likeliest path for a ship of the Ransom's design.

A grating alarm shook his prosthetic arm like a jolt of electricity. The words PROXIMITY ALERT flashed in red across the multiple display screens. Markus glanced out the window and heard the harsh cry of a dragon before he saw the familiar red shape come into view and hover above the property.

He dashed outside. "Hadrian!" He called.

She squawked in response, and he saw the little blue shape of her Wyrmling flapping furiously beside her. Markus noted the glint of a holographic barrier that prevented his dragon friend from landing in the courtyard. He waved his hand until the command menu popped up. "Allow!" he said, and the alarm ceased.

Hadrian curled her wings close and landed on the ground in front of him. She curled her head down and nudged him in the shoulder, blinking intelligently at him.

Markus rubbed her neck. "Boy, am I glad to see you," he murmured.

Hadrian kept her snout resting on his shoulder, as if offering some kind of consolation. The gesture reminded Markus of the way Denahlia would rest her hand on his shoulder when he was anxious or agitated over something, and it prompted a lump to form in his throat.
Hadrian tilted her head toward the door of the office and warbled an inquiry.