Work Text
Hercules was mindlessly piloting into his
home
port.
It had been a rough journey to and from the front. He hadn’t felt great about the last few trips but this one had felt a little more hopeful. It wasn’t as grim, the front had moved, he preferred to go farther. He knew it meant success. It was better than months of stalemate and inches.
Deadman's land was getting farther from where he could see, that was a joy. Maybe next run he’d be doing river drags too. He hoped not. He was scared of the biggest rivers he’d ever seen, let alone unfamiliar European ones that Neptune knows have been sabotaged, or worse yet bodies.
He hated when the
bodies
were in the water.
But he hadn’t seen any in a few weeks, so that was looking up. And this trip, it was looking up too.
He was excited to do a dry run back to Norfolk to get a soldier ship to help drag back over to the front. It was tiring dragging supplies, he was ready to call it quits and become a reef, but he had a sister to go home too, so that would
never
do.
But just before he was going out he had been halted for a few hours. He had been dreading that he was dawdling just enough to be stuck with a haul home, but then some army men arrived and there was a trade off… or more like a pass off of a medic.
Hercules has been told that there was a special request from an agency back home for this medic, and his crew was to prepare him quarters and Hercules was to detour to Bigg City and turn him over to the Coast Guard Station.
And Hercules couldn’t complain an ounce about that, even with the weird, skittish man in a dirty, mud stained uniform being loaded onto his deck by some on his deck hands.
So his ticket was adjusted, and he was happily on his way
home
.
Hercules hadn’t seen too much of the man. His first officer had mentioned that the medic seemed to be leaned over his side throwing up most of the day and night, refused any new uniform, and only took his mask off to throw up and eat.
His boatswain said he seemed to know enough to get out of the way of deck activities but he was clearly not a sailor. Any good sailor wouldn’t have been so sick for so long.
Hercules usually didn’t leave the bridge on ocean treks, he didn’t need sleep, or at least much, so he kept the watches and back ups, and his cook never minded bringing up his ration. It kept his crew happier, and he didn’t like them in control during high stress beyond the shifts that he needed the breaks.
But, today he was taken off the bridge for a few hours, they were almost back and the Navy would be irritated he wasn’t rotating his shifts, so this was just to have an accurate slate for the day.
Hercules was roaming his deck, and saw the medic over the side of his ship, gagging hard.
Hercules stopped and watched the man for a moment.
The muddy, dirty man was in a much more severe state than he realized. With a decent amount of dirty dressings along the man’s face and hands, and two of his fingers splinted together, Hercules wondered how the man survived the trenches.
Well, he wondered how any man survived the trenches in general, it wasn’t many as far as he knew. That was just a fact of life. Well, it was a fact of war, and that meant a fact of death. Life and death were the same thing at this point. This war needed to end.
But regardless, this man didn’t look like he was anything close to soldier material. Was the draft that desperate?
He looked pale, and gaunt. He wasn’t breathing naturally, his chest inflating in a strange way that Hercules hadn’t noticed before on a person. There was a wheeze in the man’s heaves that was clearly ingrained in the man's inhuman chest movements.
This man was unwell, he was sick in a way Hercules couldn't believe the Army would accept.
That was the draft and a desperate army for you, then, wasn't it?
The man pushed himself back over the gunwale, now sitting with his back against it and his eyes closed.
His breaths didn’t change, if anything they got worse as he threw his head back, his jaw rolling as he seemed to force air into his body. Was the man manually breathing?
That’d help explain why his chest was buckling and stuttering as he forced in air. Hercules wondered if he tried to imitate the man’s breathing if people would think he was faking it, or notice he was a ship sooner.
“You know,”
Hercules was taken aback by the strong, nasally and thirty voice of the man he was watching barely be able to breath.
“I was wondering when you’d have to start working the proper slate, the Navy hates tired overworked ships, you know that USS Hercules. I hate it too, that’s why my number one takes his mandatory naps daily.”
Hercules squinted at the man, questioning his words. He was told this man wasn’t chatty at all.
“Are you sure I’m-”
“You aren't breathing and you’re taller than sin, USS Hercules, you are a ship or I’m blind.”
“You could just be blind.”
“I’m drafted you heap of scrap, I’m not blind. Then again, Lucky’s ships are stubborn and cocky. The right lot of you get on my nerves.”
“You know my ship yard?”
“Do I know you’re-” The man scoffed, then made a small wet cough into the back of his wrist. “The lot of you Lucky’s Yard ships are stupid too, you know that? I looked at your builder’s plate. Your engineer, Mr Luckson, he’s a hard son of a bitch you know that? Now what’s a Navy ship from Lucky Sr like then, hmm? Can’t be worse than an Atlantic of any pedigree.”
“Somewhere between Pacific and Fletcher I would imagine.”
“Like a Spreckles ship, got it.”
Hercules laughed warmly.
“What company are you from then, soldier?”
The man puffed, snorted as he adjusted how he was sitting, no longer leaning his head back. He looked up at Hercules. “If you must know, I’m on the Harbour Board.”
That’d explain the far reaching familiarity.
“They finally replaced old Micheal Brown with young blood?”
“Far from it,” The man puffed and adjusted again. “Secretary Treasurer at the moment, but call me Ben, I’ve had enough of my full name for a life time I swear on HaShem,”
Hercules laughed again as the man closed his eyes again, leaning back and gagging through his unnatural breaths.
“Well Ben, you seem damn sea sick for being a sailor.”
The man scoffed again, “I am
not
a sailor, I can read and do arithmetic.”
“Low opinion of sailors for a harbour board member.”
“It’s not a low opinion if it’s true. You’ve seen what sailors are like, ship, you know exactly how dumb they can be. I say throw the whole lot of them out.” He made a gesture, swiping out in front of him as he started to sweat. “Good ships are self sufficient to a point, you let them learn and hold responsibility and they are loyal and quite quick. The Navy has it a little right, feeding and clothing and giving a small salary to ships. It’s proper is what it is.”
Hercules nodded, this was a man who knew how to speak to a boat.
“Minimum wage, and the responsibility to care for those you are responsible for, those are basic rights that all captains should hold for their ships. You aren't cattle and you aren't objects. No one is.”
Hercules chuckled, amused at the rant the man was going on. “You sound like one of those loud and brash suffrage girls.”
“I’ve a mother don’t I?”
A point he hadn’t considered, truthfully. “Well, I’d assume so. But it’s just a tick of nonsense m’dear.”
“And why’s that, USS Hercules? Why shouldn’t women have a right to participate in the country they help raise, rear and run? You can sink for your country, why should you not be able to vote? You know they have women near the front now too, should they not be given that right either when in the line of fire? What-”
“Sweetheart, let's not get uncivilized.”
The man snorted. “I don’t see why this is an uncivilized conversation, USS Hercules. You get angry and you start calling me pet names, I’d say you are the one getting uncivilized.”
Hercules snorted and adjusted his stance. “Well you are the one lecturing-”
Hercules stopped as the man’s eyes caught something behind him and he suddenly started to get his mask back on.
Hercules watched one of his deck hands walk past with some coils.
“Land spotted, 1300 hours estimated landfall.”
“Thank you, Seaman.”
And the deckhand kept trundling along.
Hercules looked back at the medic who was now securely masked up.
“Why do you need that silly thing? We’re actually clean here in the Naval service.”
“Do you know how horrible the trenches are? I’ll give something to your crew and I know it.”
“And not me?”
The man rolled his eyes. “I know exactly what I’d have to do to get you to carry whatever I have and I’m sorry, USS Hercules, but I'm not interested.”
And Hercules laughed again. “Well I don’t see a ring, and you seem familiar with Atlantic, so-”
The man made a disgusted noise, shaking his head. “Absolutely not, I’m not interested in ships, I’m not interested in men, I’m not interested in women. My ledger is enough for me.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
“Naturally.”
Hercules was getting bored of learning about the weird man on his deck. He looked up and saw the mouth of his home port glimmering between rocks and haze.
“Landfall 20 minutes, Ben. Go and get your packs, we're dropping you with the Coasties.”
The man, wobbly and clearly unsure of his footing, stood, giving Hercules a nod.
“Thank you, USS Hercules. It could not have been a nicer voyage.”
“May have been nicer if you talked to anyone before today.”
Hercules hummed as the man rolled his eyes again
“I simply cannot stand sailors. You understand.”
And he disappeared under Hercules’ deck.
With that sorted, Hercules had a docking to coordinate.
The docking at the Coast Guard building couldn’t have been simpler for Hercules and his crew.
Hercules was now scouting the area, and noticed one of the former Atlantic ships, Zorran, was sitting at the station docked, but seemed to be lacking in the ship himself or any crew.
Hercules didn’t pay him much mind. It wasn’t his business to know what the port's activities were. If he was fast enough here he could go find his sister and that was worth way more.
The Coast Guard Launch was now approaching his boat, Hercules gave the small craft a hand wave salute and he sent one back. Hercules noticed the launch was being followed by a woman he’d never seen before in a clean brown coat with a thick white mask and, of course, Zorran. He should have known the ship was down at the Coasties, he always seemed to be in trouble.
He gave the woman a glance over, noticing her coat shared the colours and logos of the Zero Marine company. This must have been the Captain Zero that he’d heard about. He hadn’t realized the villain was a woman, but that also didn’t necessarily throw him off.
“Where is that stow-a-way of yours.” the Coast Guard snapped. “I don’t have all day.”
Hercules looked back at his ship. He whistled loudly. “Come on! Get that soldier out here!”
Out from under his deck, the man cropped up.
It took only a moment for him to start running.
Tripping onto the dock, the man skittered towards the group.
He started to ditch his packs as he ran, lastly pushing off his helmet as he reached the group.
The woman stepped forwards, opening her arms as the man ran.
“Oh come here, Ruby!”
The two collided, the taller woman grabbing the man into a tight and gentle hug.
Hercules knew that pose, the eagerness of the man to go to her, the cradle she held on his body so naturally.
The man’s mother was Captain Zero. Things were starting to make more sense.
“Thank you, Hercules.” The Coast Guard nodded. “Bluenose gave me the memo that you are supposed to get yourself over to the Naval docks for a full crew rest rotation and receive new orders in the morning.”
“Perfect, we’ll get out of your slip as soon as possible.” Hercules doffed his hat to the launch.
That man wasn’t all that bad.
Hercules gave him one last glance as Zorran put a hand on the man’s back and talked to him quietly as he pulled out of his mother’s hug.
That man wasn’t all bad, he thought to himself as he watched the man hug Zorran, he was a man who knew how to treat a ship. He seemed quick witted and kind, and was certainly one of those progressive types.
He must have learned that from his mother: It would explain a few things.