(Dylan)

  Dylan stepped out of the Captain’s Suite as the door shut behind him with a click. He looked down at the black tricorn hat with its ridiculous crimson feather.

  “Wait, she meant give the hat back, right?” He briefly glanced back at the door, wondering if he’d misremembered their conversation.

  ‘Relax Dylan,’ he thought. ‘No one in their right mind just hands you, of all people, a ship.’ He shrugged, plopped the hat on top of his head, and shuffled down the stairs toward the brig.

  This time, when the deckhand noticed him and the hat, he stepped aside and stood at attention against the wall as Dylan approached.

  “Captain,” the deckhand said.

  Dylan let out a sigh. ‘Don’t panic,’ he thought. ‘You can just give it back when you’re done, just like she said.’

  “I’d like to see my friend now,” he said.

  “Of course, sir.” The deckhand gestured with his bony hand toward the door on their right.

  But before Dylan could proceed, the deckhand asked, “Sir, if I may?” He remained at attention, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him.

  They both waited a few moments before Dylan realized the deckhand was waiting for his permission. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “Is… the previous captain still with us, sir?” the deckhand asked, still staring forward.

  Dylan detected the apprehension in his voice, but he didn’t know if it was out of respect or fear. While the two often yielded similar results, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the latter.

  “Relax,” he said, pointing to the hat. “She’s just letting me borrow it to talk to Echo.”

  It’s not like he killed her and took over the ship. He just did what he had to in order to help his friend.

  “Very good, sir,” the deckhand said with a slight nod. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Dylan didn’t like the idea of getting yes-manned, but if it let him talk to his friend, he’d bear it. He just had one last question.

  “So, whoever wears this hat really is the captain of the Everafter?”

  “Aye, captain.”

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t the last question. “And you’ll do whatever I say?”

  The deckhand was hesitant to answer. “Aye, captain.”

  Dylan frowned. He didn’t understand this whole ‘hat’ business. And things he didn’t understand tended to bite him in the ass. So, he asked, “Why?”

  The deckhand turned his skull at him. “Why what, sir?”

  “Why would you listen to anyone who’s got the hat? Couldn’t you just take it from me? Would that make you the captain?”

  The deckhand pointed with a nod to the hat. “That hat’s enchanted, sir. It won’t change owners unless both parties’ consent. I couldn’t take it from you, even if I wanted to be captain.”

  Dylan blinked, looking up at the deckhand. “You don’t want to be captain?”

  The deckhand shook his skull and resumed staring at the wall ahead. “No, sir.”

  That answer took Dylan by surprise. He figured any sensible person would want a free ship and crew. “Why not?” he asked.

  “Too much responsibility, sir.”

  “Responsibility?” Dylan scoffed. “I don’t think standing around and telling everyone what to do is that much of a responsibility.” That’s all he saw Captain Echo do.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir,” the deckhand asked. Dylan could tell his last remark ruffled the skeleton’s bones.

  “Uh… Granted?” he said, still trying to get used to adults asking him for permission like they were back in school.

  The lamprian relaxed his stance, tilting his head down at Dylan. “The one who wears that hat is responsible for every soul aboard this ship. Whatever happens, good or bad, falls on your shoulders right now. That and the captain’s responsible for all our wages.”

  Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. “Wages?” he asked, an octave higher than usual. He didn’t have any money, or credits, or gems, or any other way to pay them.

  “Aye, the Everafter pays better than any other freelancer on this world.”

  “I—I don’t have any…” he said, unsure how to tell them he was broke. Nathan wouldn’t be happy if he showed up with a boatload of surly crew looking for their wages.

  “Don’t worry, sir. The previous captain made sure we didn’t dump the treasury with the rest of the non-essential supplies and equipment.”

  Dylan released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and leaned forward. “We have a treasury?”

  “Aye, captain. We’ll be adding to it when we get back to Nightshade to collect the other half of the charter fee. Although, I’m fairly certain the dry dock is going to eat any profits on this charter. The refits alone are going to be astronomical. Not to mention restocking the armory, galley, and mechanical. Then there’s the death benefit payout for Echo von Lee’ah—” He stopped after detecting Dylan’s anxious energy skyrocket.

  “That’s… good to know,” Dylan said, feeling overwhelmed. He needed to speak with Echo quickly and give the damn hat back.

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  “Of course, captain. Oh, and if I may suggest.” He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “Take the hat off before talking to your friend. She’s still a member of the crew for now. Anything you say while wearing it would be treated as a direct order,” the deckhand said.

  Dylan appreciated the tip. He didn’t want his friend to act any differently because he wore a stupid hat. It occurred to him that’s probably how Eury felt about the P-word too.

  “Thanks,” he said, removing the hat from his head.

  He stopped at the door to the brig, rapped twice with his knuckle, and waited. When there was no response, he opened it, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.

  Now they were both completely in the dark. He ran his hand along the wall. The polished wood slats felt smooth under his fingertips as he searched for the bench he knew was bolted to the room. He let out a small sigh of relief to find the seat. He was afraid they might have tossed it overboard with all the other "non-essential" supplies—whatever that meant.

  Dylan dropped onto the bench. One question burned in his mind, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. The captain had been right; he could feel Echo’s discomfort about being seen like this. Still, he clung to the hope that she’d want a friend.

  His voice broke as he asked, “Hey Echo, are you awake?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, and his anxiety only grew as the silence dragged on.

  As if sensing his impending panic, she answered, “We don’t sleep.” He heard stirring from her cell as she got up. “Is—is that… the captain’s hat?” she asked.

  He glanced down at his hands, where the hat should’ve been, but couldn’t even make out the crimson red feather—only darkness. Then he remembered what she’d told him about lamprians; they don’t need light or even eyes to see.

  He gripped the hat nervously, running his fingers along the folded brim. “Would you believe me if I told you I won it at a card game?” he asked with a faint smile.

  “No,” she said, far too quickly.

  “Why not?” She hadn’t even entertained the idea that he could’ve outsmarted the captain in a game. “You never know,” he said, crossing his arms. “I could be really good at cards…” The crimson feather tickled his nose, and he huffed loudly, trying to blow it out of the way.

  “You aren’t very good at lying,” Echo said. She was spot on about his lackluster subterfuge skills.

  “How can you tell?” He squinted at the darkness. “I’ve never lied to you.” He heard the smallest of chuckles.

  “I just know. Also, I don’t recommend playing games with a lamprian. There are tells in your energy aura that you can’t hide.”

  His jaw dropped. “Well, that’s not very fair…”

  His thoughts drifted to sneaking Echo back to Earth for a run on Vegas. “Thanks for the heads up, though.”

  Echo gave him a few more moments of procrastination before she asked, “Dylan, how’d you get the hat?”

  He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I had a chat with the captain about how they were treating you and she handed it over.”

  “Just like that?” He could almost hear her non-existent eyebrows raise.

  “Yep. Just like that.” He rolled the brim of the hat between his thumbs and index fingers, trying to buy time before he had to ask the dreaded question.

  “Must’ve been some chat…” she said. “But why are you here? What do you want?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said, continuing to run his fingers along the brim as it rose and dipped like the waves of the sea.

  “Are you here to talk as the captain or—”

  “As a friend,” he was quick to interject. He only ever wanted her to see him as a friend. Her suggestion wounded him. He wasn’t about to order her to stop being sad. A lifetime of experience taught him that’s just not how depression worked. Besides, he didn’t ask for the damn hat.

  The captain had been right again; the hat was more trouble than it looked, and he couldn’t wait to be done with the stupid thing.

  Echo remained quiet in her cell, and he tried to remain patient, but felt compelled to tell the whole truth.

  “The captain told me I could talk to you on one condition. If I asked you a question first and accepted your response,” he said. While that might have eased his conscience, his stomach continued to work itself into knots as the moment of truth loomed.

  “What’s the question?”

  The fabric of the hat creaked under his tightening grip. “Echo, do you want me to leave you alone?”

  After a terse moment, she whispered, “Yes…”

  His heart skipped a beat as it sank. A wave of shame washed over him as he broke his deal with the captain. She’d been right to call him out; he couldn’t accept her response. But this was too important. He had to be sure—he had to know.

  “Forever?” he asked, hoping and praying she’d change her mind.

  “I…” She hesitated, allowing him to cling to his remaining sliver of hope. “I don’t know.”

  While it wasn’t the response he wanted, it was one he could live with. He took a deep breath and released his death grip on the poor hat.

  “Okay…” Dylan let out a breath and nodded, leaning out of his seat and onto his feet. He noticed the faint glow of light from beneath the door. It was time to go. He made his way to the exit and reached to open it, but before he could, the smallest lamprian called out to him.

  “Wait,” the small voice said.

  He let go of the doorknob, turning back toward the voice. “Yeah?”

  “Not forever,” Echo said. “I just—I just need some time.”

  “How long?” His voice cracked again as he sniffled, unable to hold back tears of hope. He’d always experienced big emotions, and while sad feelings made him cry, joyful ones made him cry more.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

  He knew he was pushing his stay and asked, “But if I kept the ship—”

  “Dylan, you can’t keep the ship,” she interrupted.

  “I might…” He still wasn’t sure how to feel about Echo being able to read him like a book.

  “You won’t.”

  He used the back of his sleeve to dry his tears. “But if I kept the ship and said you could stay, would you want to?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” He sniffled again, his nose starting to run as his emotions ran amok.

  “Because the rest of the crew would leave. It doesn’t matter how good of a mechanic I am; it takes more than one person to fly this ship,” she said.

  “Okay, guess I’ll give the ship back then.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He laughed, dabbing his cheeks again. “Come on, I wasn’t really going to keep it…”

  “No, not that, silly. Thank you… for not giving up on me.”

  A new well of emotions threatened to overtake Dylan as his lip quivered. He needed to take a seat again, returning to the bench.

  He cleaned his face on his sleeve again and asked, “How could I? After Captain Echo explained everything you’re going through and—”

  “And you still wanted to talk to me?” She cut him off, sounding incredulous and surprised at the same time.

  He found both sleeves soaked and used the hat to deal with his unending emotions.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I was only around when it’s convenient. I know I’d want a friend with me if I hit a rough patch.”

  “This isn’t exactly a ‘rough patch’,” she said.

  He threw his hands into the air. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say! Which means you need a friend even more.”

  Echo let out a small sigh. “I’ve a feeling I won’t be able to change your mind about this…”

  “Nope. The captain already tried,” he sniffled again. “And I ended up with her ship.” He chuckled and added, “Might as well let me take you out of that cage and give you a big hug.”

  “You do give good hugs,” she admitted. “But no, not while there’s a crystalis on board. The resolve in her voice told Dylan she wouldn’t change her mind, either.

  “Suit yourself,” he mock-shrugged. “But hugs are free and you can have as many as you want.”

  “Just… be patient with me?” Echo asked. “I need to be alone for a while. It might take some time before you see me again.”

  “Take all the time you need. I guess this means goodbye for now. Echo—”

  “A’liyah,” she corrected him.

  “Sorry? what about—” he stopped talking, realizing this was something important she wanted to say.

  “I’m neither Echo von A’lyce nor Echo von Lee’ah anymore. I’m something… someone… else, and I think I’d like to be called A’liyah,” she said.

  “So… no more Echo?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

  “Just A’liyah.”

  Dylan nodded at the darkness, knowing she could still see him.

  “Goodbye, A’liyah.”

  “Goodbye… for now, Dylan.”

  He put the hat on, got to the door, and opened it to the blinding light of the hallway. The door shut behind him with a click.