The Thirteenth

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Vincent sat quietly on the floor of the small dinghy, wringing seawater from his jet-black locks. He felt a deep chill against his flesh, his soggy clothing now failing to insulate against the chilly night air. His companions chatted idly, shoulder to shoulder at the controls. The tub moved slowly, the engine having been reduced a great deal to keep the group from being detected. Though the gunslinger knew that many of the empire's ships likely had RADAR and GPS technology, he hoped that he had crippled the Vulture's ship enough to prevent them from scrambling the troops. He no contingency plan whatsoever if the group were cornered; he could only put his faith in the brothers Sola and keep his eyes on the horizon.

“So, Costa del Sol.” Ral muttered from somewhere near the front of the ship. The trio had agreed to keep any lighting to a minimum to prevent detection. Aside from a dim light at the head of the ship to prevent colliding with drifting debris, they followed the path set by the ship's compass. “You think you'll find some information there?”

The ex-Turk thought for a moment. “I'm not entirely convinced, but it's the only idea I have.”

“Fair enough,” the boy responded.

The group had been drifting for around an hour, their snail-like pace keeping them from reaching shore as fast as they would have liked. Though none of them could tell if they were even headed in the right direction, Tal assured them that their destination was simply due North. Without any better alternative to offer, Vincent resigned himself to sitting and waiting. Although the trip back to shore was much longer than the trip to the Imperial frigate, he was not complaining. The silence of the night soothed the warrior's mind, his pulse falling to a rhythmic, lazy pace. He closed his eyes, reveling in the long calm.

A sudden, almost ghostly tune sneaked through the silence, at first barely audible. For a moment, the ex-Turk could barely differentiate it from the low hum of the engine. Curious, he opened his eyes and waited, listening intently for the sound to return. Minutes later the sound returned, drifting past the trio from somewhere in the distance.

“You guys hearing this too?” Tal inquired, flipping the throttle on the ship's dash. The engine slowed to a crawl before dying completely.

His companions did not reply, each awaiting the return of the call. A long moment passed before their ears were again met with the ghostly wail, this time slightly louder. Vincent furrowed his brow, pondering what could create such a sound. It was somehow familiar to him, as if he had heard this same tone somewhere before.

“Yeah, I can hear it.” Ral replied, taking a seat beside Vincent. He leaned over the side of the ship, glancing around as if he expected to see the source of the noise floating beside the ship.

Again, the call came. This time it seemed to be getting closer, though it still seemed to be quite far away. Vincent recognized the tone as more of a howl than a moan, sounding somewhat lupine if he had to guess. “Can you steer us in that direction?” The gunslinger inquired, squinting through the darkness in the general direction of the noise.

“Uh, I guess,” Tal responded. “But didn't you want to head to Costa del Sol?”

Vincent nodded toward the direction of Tal's voice. “Yes. But that howl seems...familiar, somehow.”

“You're the boss.” Tal replied, flipping the throttle once more. The engine awoke, the elder Sola directing its path toward the mysterious noise.