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"Which will it be?" he continued, noting the boy's quiet defiance. "Your life, her life?" Jessie said, punctuating his statement by tapping the blade once more against Sophie's skin, "It makes no difference to me. None of us here have desire for undue bloodshed. Do as I say, and we may resolve this peacefully. Continue to test the waters..."

A silence which felt very long indeed fell in the room. The newcomer glanced back and forth between one captain and the other. Then, without warning, he leapt for the secondary console - a long line of panels behind the primary console at which the captain had been seated. There, rested buttons to summon the coastguard and the police.

However, he never made it. He'd barely finished lunging in the direction when he collapsed to the ground, letting out a short, sharp shout - the handle of a silver blade identical to the one at Sophie's neck protruding from his side.

Marie screamed.

"Shut it," Jessie barked, a third knife appearing in his hand from the vicinity of his black-clothed waist and coming up to point in her direction, "Or you'll be next."

The captain's face had turned white as a sheet again, and he held out his own hand to the woman, who was quickly approaching hysterics. "Keep calm, Marie," he said, "If you leave the knife in he may yet survive."

As if to punctuate the captain's instruction, the boy gave a small groan, shifting on the floor. The old man spoke again, but seemed unwilling to move. Either that, or he was too shocked to do anything but give instructions. "Lie still, boy! Lie still!"

"Smart, Captain," the drow said quietly, "You are an intelligent man. However, your time for stalling is trickling away."

He raised his voice slightly, and visibly tightened his grip on the captain's daughter. It was intimidatory, and it worked to great effect. "Command your passengers to disembark and turn the ship around. The sooner this nightmare can end, the better."

For some time, the captain just stared at him, but this final command seemed to do the trick. With skin as blanched as the flecks on his beard, the old man turned around and addressed the passengers through the intercom, ordering everyone who wished to disembark off the boat and onto the pier. His reason was 'needing to keep to schedule.' Within quarter of an hour, the ferry was wending its way out of port, weaving between the other boats, who for the most part shifted to make way for it.

Once they had pulled from the port, Jessie gestured to the cabin boy, addressing Marie. It felt like no one had moved since the captain had turned to hsi helm, least of all the collapsed boy. "Is he alive?"

She blinked at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights for a split second, then jumped to her senses again and bent down to test his pulse. Grimly, she turned back to him. "Barely."

Though of course Jessie was pleased by this, he returned her gaze just as solemnly. A rustle of his cloak indicated that he'd reached inside, and was searching for something. Soon enough, he drew out one of the clear healing potions. "Here, feed him this, and put some on the wound," he said, tossing the vial when it seemed she was ready. "Pull out the dagger first."

She managed to catch it, and carefully rolled the boy onto his back before slowly pulling out the dagger. The wound, bloodless until that point, suddenly began to gush, and she quickly sloshed half the bottle over the wound. It healed immediately, and she shoved the neck of the bottle between his lips to feed him the rest. He swallowed it, apparently, and she turned her attention to the blood-coated blade, picking it up carefully and staring at it in a kind of awful wonder.

"You can keep it, if you'd like," Jessie told her, as seconds passed while she examined it, "It's quite valuable - you could sell it."

She glanced back at him, startled again, and then his offer registered in her mind. Disgusted, she immediately dropped the knife, throwing it across the room where it landed at the hostage-taker's feet.

"Very well," he said politely, as the dagger, streaked with blood, glinted morbidly on the floor, "Thank you for returning it."

As the boat pulled out into open waters, he then turned his attention to the young girl in his arms. Probing around in her mouth, he found that he'd actually managed to dislocate a couple of her teeth when he'd knocked her out. It wasn't without guilt, as he hadn't intended to hit her that hard, but obviously hadn't been able to properly control the shot in his haste. Then again, accidents happen... in any case, he drew out another bottle after pressing the loose, bloodied teeth back into place, then swilled about half of the clear liquid around the damaged area.

While he was tipping her forward, letting the blood and excess potion trickle out so as not to let her choke, the captain, attention on driving the ship, suddenly began to speak.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" he asked, all anger drained from his voice. Jessie wasn't sure if he could have seen him healing his daughter from the position he was in, but at that moment it was all Jessie could think was causing his apparent friendliness; the lightness in his voice. "I heard you keep to the tropics this time of year."

"Blue skies are easier on the eyes," Jessie replied, quickly correcting himself, "Eye. But I've actually got a new job now."

"Oh, yeah?" he answered casually, "Hitman?"

Despite himself, Jessie couldn't help but smirk. "I'd probably be better at that than the job I've actually got," he said, "Teacher."

"Teacher?!" he ejaculated, glancing around in disbelief, "What the hell kind of school would let YOU within fifty yards?"

"One run by a sentient clam,"

The captain's tone became thoughtful, as if the full picture of what was going on was coming together in his mind. "So YOU'RE behind that explosion,"

"Well, no," Jessie answered quickly, "But I am an obvious suspect."

"Obvious," the old man mumbled, "I'll say."

No one said anything else for a time. The boat ride to Barton was a short one - only a trip of about half an hour. Jessie began to hope that the rest of the trip could pass without incident. Then, suddenly, the girl in his arms jerked, regaining consciousness in what seemed like an instant.

"Daddy?! Daddy!" she cried, lashing out in reflexive bewilderment.

"Princess!" the captain gasped, turning around again, "No, don't move!"

"Uugh, let go of me!" Sophie shrieked, finally appreciating that she was being held and struggling in earnest against her captor, "Who ARE you?!"

"Princess, just hold still," her father said, sounding for this first time as fearful as the situation might have demanded, "Do as he says."

"She can struggle all she likes," Jessie answered calmly, "It makes no difference to me. She'll only tire herself out."

At this, Sophie became enraged, flinging her arms back at an awkward angle to hit the taller man on his side. "Let - me - GO!" she screamed.

"Now, stop that."

She refused to stop, and refused to be quiet. She brought up her arm once more to hit him, and this time he caught it in his free hand, just below her wrist. She immediately tried to pull away - but her arm didn't budge a millimetre.

Shocked, she tried again, but Jessie held her fast - faster than fast. She couldn't budge. It was like being held in an iron vice.

"...What ARE you?!" she breathed, horrified, "You're a monster!"

"Don't provoke him, baby," her father warned, but the drow interjected with a small laugh.

"Oh, please," he said, "It takes more than an infant's name-calling to provoke me."

"Infant?!" she shrieked, regaining all her furor, "I'll be sixteen next month!"

"Like I said," he replied, "An infant."

Almost-sixteen-year-old Sophie began to argue, but he cut her off. "Look, I don't have a sleeping potion, so if you don't keep quiet I'll just have to knock you out again. Do you want that?"

She didn't want that.

The rest of the trip passed quietly. Sophie behaved herself, but Jessie couldn't trust her not to run to the communication hardware just as the boy had attempted, and so he kept holding her. She didn't quite appreciate this at first, but soon relaxed. The last ten minutes or so were practically pleasant - this time, Marie was the one to draw him into conversation. He couldn't quite think of her motive, but he respected her for all she'd done so far, and didn't think she had any malice in her. Much less than the captain, anyway, who still slipped in little remarks about the criminal he was here and there.

Jessie ordered him not to pull into the port, instead coming in to dock as close as he could to the shore about half a mile south of the town. It meant having to get wet, but if Cressa slept long enough he'd be dried off by the time she woke. The time to disembark drew in.

Having finally released his daughter, and after a slightly tearful reunion, Jessie reached out to shake the captain's hand. Surprisingly, he took it.

"Alert the GPD, or do not," the drow told him, "It makes no difference to me."

The old man was eyeing him in bemusement, and as he drew away, he stared at his hand in shock.

"What's this?" he asked, lifting up the small pouch of gold that had been left in his palm.

Jessie smiled. "My fare," he explained, "And the fare of my friend. Thank you for the pleasant journey. It was nice meeting you all."

He directed the final comment at the others, giving each of the women a small bow. The boy still hadn't regained consciousness, but he'd be fine.

With that, the hostage-taker was gone, leaving the all three staring after him in bewilderment.

"What a strange man," Sophie murmured, coming up to hug her father again.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, carefully weighing the heavy sack in his hand as if proving to himself it was real, or perhaps just testing to see if he'd paid the right amount. In fact, he would find later, he'd paid more. "Criminal geniuses are a weird sort."