Finches

Chapter 2 - Colt's Case

Colt took a deep breath. He stood before the door to the captain's quarters, silently bracing himself for what was to come. He knew what he had to do; what he had to say. But it didn't matter. If he was successful, everything would change by the time he walked back out the door. If he wasn't successful... well, that just wasn't an option. He steeled himself, and then went all in. He rapped on the door.

A gruff voice responded. "Enter!"

Colt obeyed. He pushed the door open and walked into the quarters. It was the brightest and most colorful room on the ship, and contained all of the captain's belongings. It was technically smaller than the kitchen, but there was much more space to move around in it. The walls were polished wood and the carpet was a royal crimson. The smell of it was the only thing bad about it. Colt couldn't decide which was worse: the captain's quarters or the kitchen. What the captain's quarters lacked in burnt fish it made up for in the stench of Captain Rave.

"You're not a cook!" Captain Rave rumbled. "What are you doing here, boy?"

The captain of the ship was sitting in his large chair at the back of the room. He was a large man with so much facial hair that you could hardly see his actual face. He was just a few inches taller than Colt, but because of his weight and his eyes that always seemed to be glaring, he seemed to tower over everyone in his path. It was hard to look directly at him without imagining what he'd do to you if you got on his bad side, but Colt did his best to stand unwaveringly.

Captain Rave had a sack in his lap and he was rummaging through it. A couple glasses flew out of it, followed by some garments of clothes. The glasses smashed into a million pieces on the floor due to the forcefulness in which they were thrown, while the clothes piled up where they landed. Colt realized that the captain was searching for anything valuable in the sack, which must have been filled hurriedly with stolen items. He thought that the glasses had looked perfectly fine and the clothes much better than what he was accustomed to wearing, but the captain was not content. He kept on rummaging furiously through the sack.

Colt cleared his throat. "Well, you let me in."

Red-Head Rave looked up. "I thought you were a cook delivering the meal I ordered."

"I'm not... but I'm sure your food will be here any minute."

"It better be," grumbled the captain as he focused back on the sack, "and you have until it does to finish your business here and scram."

Good start so far, Colt thought.

"I'd like to request our next voyage," Colt said.

This caused Captain Rave to give him his attention. Colt stood frozen, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes on him, as the captain considered his request. He looked Colt up and down and tapped his big foot against the carpet thoughtfully. He nodded, seeming to come to a conclusion. Then he reared his head back and roared with laughter.

Colt couldn't decide whether to be embarrassed or angry as the captain doubled over, laughing at Colt's request. Colt began to say something, but couldn't really think of anything to help his case. So he kept quiet.

"You?" the captain spluttered. "You, request our next voyage? I think not, boy! There is only one person who decides where this ship goes, and that's me." He jabbed a finger at himself. "You should know that by now."

"I do," Colt replied, "and it would still be your decision, of course. But I wonder if I might simply suggest a place. It would be very profitable."

Red-Head Rave raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh yeah? And where is this profitable place you speak of?"

Colt shuffled his feet. "Well I don't know, exactly."

Captain Rave snorted and focused back on his sack of goodies. "So, let me get this straight. You're requesting we go somewhere... but you don't know where? You're even dumber than you look, boy."