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Ruth was standing at the stern of the Daruna, her eyes scouting the dockyard.

The cargo had been delivered, the new cannons installed on the deck of the caravel, and they'd broken bread with the new crew. The first mate had even found herself growing fond of the Barrister brothers and their rough charm, though she would never admit as much out loud. They were all strong men, obedient without being toady, and when she made a particularly vulgar remark, they could laugh without ogling her chest first. Among sailors, they were practically gentlemen.

"Madame Hutchinson!"

The first mate refrained from flinching, but just barely. She looked down at Thomson, the gunner dressed crisply in his SMS uniform. He was as sharp as he'd been that morning, despite wrangling most of the crew through another training session with the pattern guns they'd each been issued. Only the fact that Ruth had earned her way to a rifle in the first hour made her tolerant of the gunnery chief for the rest of the afternoon.

"My targets have all been eliminated, Thomson," she said, her accent thickened in irritation. "Do I need to knock yours down too before I'm granted a moment's peace?"

"I was going to ask for any sign of the captain," he replied brightly, grinning in the face of her glare. "But your cheerful demeanor is answer enough, thank you." Her expression, if possible, grew more severe, but she said nothing. He gave her a wave, boots sounding on the wooden floor as he turned about and headed back for their impromptu firing range at the bow.

All things considered, Thomson wasn't disappointed with the Daruna crew's performance. He'd started each one on pistols, from the youngest lass to the crotchety quartermaster who spent more time complaining than shooting. Some like Ruth had already graduated to rifles by afternoon's end, which were a much more effective tool in airship warfare, but there were some crew members that were testing his patience.

Bassett's eyes flicked over to Thomson's approach, and he gave a low, short whistle.

"Straighten up, boys," Bohman said, pistol in hand as the Barristers scattered back to their firing positions. The Ceolan man refrained from scowling, but just barely. By the time he was back beside his armory boxes, they had all started shooting at their targets again, though it wasn't much of an improvement. Their footing was wrong and Bassett was yet again holding the gun like it might bite him, but at least they were all firing in the right direction. Thomson knew they were smart sailors and given time, he would make sure they each got enough experience to be comfortable with their weapons but there were still other obstacles in his way.

Bonnie Tullos, the Navigator and the youngest member on the Daruna, smiled coyly at Thomson.

"Every shot lined up for you, Thomson," she said, her tone syrupy sweet as she indicated her target. She had six shots peppered in the middle, with only one on the edge of the center. Bonnie's smile widened as he paused by her side. "I think it's time you showed me something I could really get my hands on."

"Good shooting. Now we can try you on the rifle," he said, stepping past her as she began to pout.

"You know that's not what I meant," she tried again, but Thomson placed his hands akimbo and looked back at Bonnie.

"I am not going to assign you a shotgun, Miss Tullos," he said, rolling his eyes at her plaintive cries. They went back and forth in an argument that frankly he'd had one too many times that day, but he held firm against her pleas, threats, and bribes until they finally reached the crux of the matter when she said, "But you let Otha try one!"

Thomson could see the smiles spread between the Barristers who were doing a terrible job of pretending not to eavesdrop. On the one hand, the gunner didn't want to approach the perilous waters that was the relationship between the Daruna's navigator and its boatswain, but neither did he want to point out that Bonnie was all of one hundred pounds sopping wet. Otha could handle the kick of a shotgun while she most certainly could not. Of course, saying it in such a way wouldn't stop her from trying. The red hair was a dead giveaway, but he thought that the navigator's temper was the clearest indication that she was Halish through and through.

"You're a knife fighter, aren't you, Miss Tullos?" Thomson asked, able to walk peacefully back to his armory boxes once he'd confounded her for a moment. "I'll make you a deal: do another round with the pistol, and I will let you play with these." The gunner turned around and presented her with thin, flat stars of sharpened metal.

"Yuleni throwing stars!" Buck dropped all pretense of target practice, standing at Bonnie's shoulder and looking like he had half a mind to take Thomson's deal on her behalf. The gunner smiled, letting the two admire the metalwork while Bassett tried to surreptitiously do the same thing a few feet away. The redhead was trying to restrain from grinning, and she narrowed her eyes at the gunner.

"If I make the middle with these," she gestured to the stars. "Then can I try the shotgun?"

"If you can make the middle with these," he said, carefully setting them aside in easy reach. "I will let you keep one. Now! Everyone back to their mark. Buck, one hand on the grip, but use the other to steady it. I want you to hit the target, not threaten it like some Baron's thug. Bassett, loosen your knees. Take a deep breath, relax. Bohman," but whatever advice he had for the oldest Barrister was cut off by a high cry from Ruth at the stern.

Target practice was abandoned so quickly that it was almost impressive, though Bonnie made sure to pocket all of the throwing stars right under Thomson’s nose. The girl had skills, no doubt about that, but the trick would be in getting her to apply them seriously. Taking pains to put away all of the firearms properly, the gunnery chief was the last one to approach from the bow, treated to his first sight of the entire crew assembled around the gangplank. They were standing at attention in rank and file, but despite the serious setting, there was a sense of cheer in the air.

Even Cornelius was smiling.

"Captain on deck!" Ruth said loudly, and everyone but Carissa saluted as Frederic came up the gangplank. His right arm free of its white sling, he returned the salute smoothly, standing straighter than he had in weeks. It was especially clear in the lines of his SMS captain's jacket, the uniform a welcome sight for those that had seen him go without it after Tierra Lue. He looked them all in turn, clasping his hands behind his back, and it looked like he was prepared to give a speech.

"Are you taller now?" Buck said suddenly, brow wrinkled in thought. This led to everyone to inspecting the captain with a critical eye, his cheeks flushing noticeable under all the scrutiny.

"Hadn't you lot noticed your captain getting a little boxy around the shoulders? I know I did," Julius said, coming up the gangplank behind Frederic. Noticing his best friend’s blush, the engineer winked at him, which did not help matters. He looked back at the other gathered sailors and smiled, "So I let him out at the knees a little. What do you think, too much?" His smile turned into a wide grin when Dane leaned back and crowed, Ruth clapped, and Bonnie broke ranks to rush forward and throw her arms around the engineer's shoulders. The show of affection signaled the end of the show of propriety as the older crewmates crowded around Julius and those newer to the Daruna hung back.

"Indago's Bane returns!"

"Welcome back, Mister Cales."

"Oh good, we needed more cannon fodder."

"You didn't tell me about the cannons!" Julius exclaimed, twisting his neck around to look at Frederic. The captain nodded, his expression twisting with a slight grimace that disappeared beneath a diplomatic visage.

"Some things have changed around here," he began to say when Ruth looked over at him sharply, and frowned.

"But not everything," she said, chin raised slightly as if he would fight her on this.

"No," Frederic agreed, exhaling shortly. He smiled at Ruth who nodded. "Not everything."

The rest of the crew seemed to move on, herding Julius away from the gangplank, Myka trailing dutifully behind him until the young engineer yanked on his arm and started making introductions. The Barristers and Thomson stepped forward at that moment, and as the crew mingled and met each other anew, Frederic sighed, lips curling with an unbidden smile.