Dawn does not come quietly.
Grey first.
Then silver.
Then a thin line of gold beyond the masts.
Maria stands at the window and watches every second of it.
Her daughter stands beside her.
The captain has spent most of the night watching his wife breathe.
MARIA:
“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to start charging.”
CAPTAIN:
“I can afford it.”
MARIA:
“You were always terrible with money.”
CAPTAIN:
“I became a pirate.”
MARIA:
“My point exactly.”
Then the harbour bell rings.
Four times.
Nobody touches it.
The captain stands.
CAPTAIN:
“Yesterday was for celebrating.”
He reaches for his coat.
CAPTAIN:
“Today we pay.”
They find the old woman at the end of the quay.
Or perhaps she finds them.
Maria.
Her daughter.
The captain.
Caelwyn and Stacy.
Sean and Eljara.
And the woman nobody remembers inviting.
The harbour wakes around them.
Ropes creak.
Gulls scream.
Sailors curse.
Life continues as though dead women returning to their families were perfectly ordinary.
The old woman looks at Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“You want to stay.”
The captain answers first.
CAPTAIN:
“Yes.”
DAUGHTER:
“Yes.”
The old woman does not look at either of them.
OLD WOMAN:
“I did not ask you.”
She looks at Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“Do you want to stay?”
Maria looks at her daughter.
At her husband.
At sunlight spreading across the harbour.
MARIA:
“Yes.”
No noble farewell.
No beautiful sacrifice.
Just the truth.
MARIA:
“I want breakfast.”
Her daughter laughs through tears.
MARIA:
“I want to sleep in a bed.”
She looks at the captain.
MARIA:
“I want to argue with this idiot.”
CAPTAIN:
“You always were ambitious.”
MARIA:
“I want to know my daughter.”
Her voice breaks.
MARIA:
“I want to know who she became.”
Then:
MARIA:
“I want grey hair.”
She touches her face.
MARIA:
“Wrinkles.”
A small smile.
MARIA:
“I want my knees to hurt when it rains.”
STACY:
“That can probably be arranged.”
Maria laughs.
MARIA:
“I want ordinary things.”
The old woman nods.
OLD WOMAN:
“Those are often the most expensive.”
The captain steps forward.
CAPTAIN:
“Gold?”
Nothing.
CAPTAIN:
“My ship?”
Nothing.
CAPTAIN:
“My life?”
Maria grabs his arm.
MARIA:
“No.”
The old woman shakes her head.
OLD WOMAN:
“You still think this is a purchase.”
CAPTAIN:
“What else would you call it?”
OLD WOMAN:
“A balance.”
The captain looks towards the sea.
CAPTAIN:
“Then tell me the price.”
The old woman points inland.
Away from the harbour.
Away from the ships.
Away from the horizon.
OLD WOMAN:
“You.”
The captain stares at her.
OLD WOMAN:
“You leave the sea.”
CAPTAIN:
“For how long?”
OLD WOMAN:
“Forever.”
Silence.
The captain looks at his ship.
His crew are gathering on deck.
People who followed him through storms, battles, hunger and worse decisions.
CAPTAIN:
“If I agree, she lives?”
OLD WOMAN:
“She lives.”
STACY:
“Lives how?”
The old woman turns towards her.
STACY:
“No riddles.”
STACY:
“She eats?”
OLD WOMAN:
“Yes.”
STACY:
“Sleeps?”
OLD WOMAN:
“Yes.”
STACY:
“Gets ill?”
OLD WOMAN:
“Yes.”
STACY:
“Ages?”
The old woman smiles.
OLD WOMAN:
“If she is fortunate.”
Stacy looks at Maria.
STACY:
“Human.”
OLD WOMAN:
“Entirely.”
Not another night.
Not borrowed time.
A life.
Maria turns towards her husband.
MARIA:
“No.”
CAPTAIN:
“We’ve already discussed this.”
MARIA:
“No. You discussed it.”
She points towards his ship.
MARIA:
“The sea is your life.”
CAPTAIN:
“You were my life.”
MARIA:
“Don’t.”
She takes his face between her hands.
MARIA:
“I will not take your life so that I can have mine.”
The old woman answers quietly.
OLD WOMAN:
“You wouldn’t.”
Everyone turns.
OLD WOMAN:
“He would give it.”
A pause.
OLD WOMAN:
“There is a difference.”
The captain looks at the sea.
A long time.
Then:
CAPTAIN:
“Done.”
Maria hits him.
Hard.
His crew cheer.
MARIA:
“Why are they cheering?”
DAUGHTER:
“They like you.”
CAPTAIN:
“They like violence.”
DAUGHTER:
“That too.”
Then the daughter asks the question nobody else has.
DAUGHTER:
“What happens to the ship?”
The old woman looks at her.
Then at the captain’s ship.
OLD WOMAN:
“A captain leaves the sea.”
She pauses.
OLD WOMAN:
“A captain must take his place.”
The daughter goes still.
DAUGHTER:
“You mean me.”
OLD WOMAN:
“No.”
The old woman points towards the ship.
OLD WOMAN:
“I mean a captain.”
Then she looks directly at the daughter.
OLD WOMAN:
“What you mean is your affair.”
The daughter looks towards the deck.
The crew are watching her.
DAUGHTER:
“And if nobody takes his place?”
The old woman looks at Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“Then morning ends.”
Nobody needs that explained.
DAUGHTER:
“How long do I have?”
The old woman looks towards the rising sun.
OLD WOMAN:
“Until the sun clears the horizon.”
The captain turns to his daughter.
CAPTAIN:
“Don’t.”
She looks at him.
CAPTAIN:
“You don’t owe us this.”
DAUGHTER:
“She is my mother.”
CAPTAIN:
“And this is my bargain.”
DAUGHTER:
“Apparently not.”
CAPTAIN:
“I won’t have you—”
DAUGHTER:
“You don’t get to order me.”
He stops.
She looks towards the ship.
DAUGHTER:
“Not anymore.”
The old woman walks away.
SEAN:
“That’s it?”
She keeps walking.
ELJARA:
“And the answer?”
The old woman looks back.
OLD WOMAN:
“That belongs to her.”
The sun climbs.
Maria is alive.
Her father has agreed to leave the sea forever.
But if his daughter wants her mother to see another morning, someone must take his place.
The ship.
The crew.
The horizon.
All of it could become hers.
Or she can walk away.
What would you do?
Enter a Pirate Borg world where every choice has a price: