Elanor thought about that for a moment; maybe that strange fog had been linked to some form of atmospheric happening, a magnetic storm perhaps, or a solar flare. Though she was sure that none had been forecast. She gave a mental shrug, it wouldn't be the first time they had got it wrong; still it wasn't that important given that there were other options, even if they were expensive ones,
"Switch to Astradec and confirm position and atmospheric conditions at the helm," she instructed and rose to leave.

"Astradec communications link cannot be established," came the infuriatingly calm voice just as she was about to close the door,
"What!" she hurried back to the console as Aridane obligingly repeated the information.
It took a moment or two for that to sink in fully, and she didn't think that she liked the implications whatever they were. Astradec was always accessible, it was shielded, that was what it was for and why using it was so expensive.
"Astradec must be accessible," she muttered leaning back in her seat. "Check uplink and retry."
The moments ticked by unnoted until Ariadne replied,
"Uplink status is confirmed as functional. No link can be established, Astradec is not responding."
She thought about that carefully, her anxiety at a level she couldn't quite explain, before slowly instructing,
"OK, establish link with any sat available, use verification protocol three to agree payment where requested."
Aridane agreed, then fell silent.

But five minutes later she was reporting the impossible.

"No sat connection at all?" Elanor demanded in disbelief.
"Negative,"
"Why? Hypothesis please."
"Data is insufficient, but scans suggest that there is no satellite traffic of any kind taking place at this moment in time. Nor is there any radio signal that can be detected. Long range scans show no satellite in orbit at any level that can be detected from this range."
Elanor sat and stared at the console in confusion, Aridane's scanners were powerful enough to detect low orbit sats, even if not the higher ones. It made no sense. Why could they find nothing when Earth's orbit was littered with the damn things!

Finally she had initiated an all systems check and gone back to staring at the stars while she thought.
Those thoughts were not comfortable, first a man who was where he shouldn't be, and now things that weren't where they should be. While she was quite capable of navigating without an uplink that in no way explained why she should have to. The strange mists had been left behind many hours ago but it seemed that the weirdness continued, yet she could no rational reason why it should.

When her tail chasing thoughts came close to driving her mad she went below to check on what, for the moment, and quite unreasonably even to her own mind, she saw as the source of the problem.

***

"He's dead. Captain Jack is dead! We shouldn't have left him, now see what's happened." Raggetti sounded almost distressed.
He was knelt on the deck clasping the sodden scrap of cloth in his hands, twisting it one way then the other as if to wring the sea from it. Beside him Marty stared at the little flag in silent shock and on the rail Cotton's parrot shrieked something that couldn't be deciphered.
"Taking the chart with him." Pintel snarled as he stared up at Barbossa from his place on the deck beside Raggetti.
Around them the others glowered and muttered, pressing in close and threatening on their captain.
"Don't be a fool," Barbossa responded, his hand going to his sword hilt as a matter of reflex, "Sparrow is nay so easy to kill."
He looked around him with distain, the thought that had been rattling around in his brain for the last day suddenly falling still and clear, bitterly clear.
"She'll not let him die, not yet. She isn't finished with us. None of us."

The men drew back a little at that, many sending quick and fearful glances at the calm sea surrounding them. None of them doubted who the 'she' he spoke of was.

Barbossa saw their uncertainty and drew a deep and steadying breath before pressing his fragile advantage. He looked down at the three clustered on their knees around the finds and addressed himself to them,
"Ye saw them together in the locker, I wager there's been more than just a curse between the two of them. She'll not let him die, not Jack Sparrow."
He could hear the anger in his own voice, just as he could hear her laughter in his head, but he also saw the sudden fear in their eyes. After a moment he looked up and nodded slowly at the other faces clustered around him,
" A woman scorned he called her and so she be. Jones betrayed her and Jones wanted Sparrow dead, she'll keep him safe for naught more than that."

That drew some more mutters and a few reluctant nods; slowly some of the threat seeped away from the situation. Barbossa dropped his hand from his sword and struggled to block the taunting voices from his mind; with a casual gesture he indicated the shattered wood that littered the deck,
"Aye gentlemen, this be his boat perhaps, but I'll swear on pain of the locker that she didn't let Sparrow go down with it. The Pirate Lords imprisoned her and she will want her revenge now Jones is dealt with, ye can be sure she has some role in that for us all, including Jack."
He looked out at the open seas beyond the Pearl,
"Nay, Sparrow didn't perish I'm sure of that. So be ye if ye but consider it, he be out there somewhere, free and safe and in possession of our chart."

"So how do we find him?" Pintel demanded.
Barbossa concealed the relief that washed though him, for though the crew man's voice was hostile the question made it clear that he was admitting his captain's authority, for the moment at least. The others would accept that.
Barbossa nodded genially enough,
"Aye that be the question now." He shot a hard look around him, " He'll be aheading for the fountain, and for the moment it seems like he be without a ship of his own. Knowing Jack he will try and persuade whoever picked him up to take him where he wants to go, so we sail in the general direction and keep a sharp eye out for likely vessels on the way."

He saw the uncertainty in the eyes watching him and knew that he was winning, for the moment at least, so he nodded again and smiled a cold, thin smile,
" We'll find him matey's. It will take him time to get his hosts to dance to a tune of his piping, that gives us a chance."
Little Jack jumped to his shoulder and chattered in excitement. Barbossa raised one hand to stroke the monkey's head, his voice hardening,
"So back to your stations all 'o ye, we've water to cover and we've wasted enough time on speculating about Jack Sparrow's misadventure. Time to set about findin' him and whatever fool Calypso had pick him up. Because there was one, mark my words."

***

From the prow of the Pearl Calypso watched Barbossa and his crew, hearing his words of false confidence, seeing the uncertain looks they exchanged as they turned back to their duties. Her laugh was hidden in the wind,
"Barbossa him learn a little, but nat enough. Nat yet, maybe never."
She turned to the silent figure at her side,
"Wilt they find him Lady? Is that wise? Tere waas much about tat saviour ya brought him tat is strange. Should ya risk tat to Barbossa's canons?"
She looked back toward the deck and nodded towards the man standing at the rail,
"Barbossa would like ta see witty Jack dead, for he fears what he caanat understand, and despises that which nat be himself; and though the world of the dead is still working on him he be a mutineer at heart even now."

The Lady turned her head and gazed at the sea goddess for a moment, before indicating the horizon with one graceful wave of her hand. The gemstone glow of her eyes seemed to deepen as she watched the clouds building where the sea met sky, Calypso followed her look and her smile widened,
"The fountain? Aye they both waant tat bad enough.Though they do naat understand it and waat it exacts as payment."
She turned narrowed eyes to her companion.
" But waat be it tat interest you so Lady? Be it part of another game ya play?"

The Lady's fan flashed in the sun and she tilted her head towards the sky.

Calypso's smiled widened, and her hand closed briefly on the golden sleeve,
"So be it Lady. Ya play long games ta be sure, and always have; tis little wonder taat witty Jack be so loved. I'll ask for na more answers for now but sit and watch the play."
She looked back at the ship, and the man staring at the horizon, and her smile became grim,
"Between us we will get the Pearl to where she needs ta be and safely, but tere is no need for it ta be easy. Is there?"

The silent Lady merely nodded her head.

***

The pain in his head refused to give way and the waves of nausea tried to pin him to the bed, but the nagging worry of where he was and how he came to be there eventually overcame the both of them. 'When was he ever going to be granted any peace.' he asked himself wearily, 'what did a man have to do to earn his self a little respite?'

One hand clasped to his head, to stop it falling off as it seemed like to do, Jack rolled over and dropped his feet to the ground. The wood of the deck felt slightly warm as if it had been in the sun, yet a careful look around the cabin through pain narrowed eyes told him that there was no window. So no sun then, other than the strange small one that burned in the bulkhead above him that was. Carefully he extended his arm above his head and reached towards it, but, though it seemed to be the source of light in this small room, it gave off no heat. How could that be? Even a candle gave some warmth and the light of this strange candle was greater than anything he had ever seen, other than the sun.

Something at the back of his weary brain told him that this light, bright and yellow yet as cold as the stars, might be important, but the waves of pain drove the thought into hiding and he sank his head into his hands and groaned.
'No', his pirate self told him sharply, 'no sound, no matter what the pain, no sound. Not until you know who, and what, it is you have to deal with. There will be time enough for pain when you are free, until then put it to the side as you've done before.'
But that was easier said than done when the hurting was getting between him and thinking. In the past the pain had been elsewhere, where it was easier for his head to ignore it, now it was his mind it was flaying not his body, and that was much harder to command.

Still he would not give way to it, though all he really wanted was to fall back into the softness of the bunk and into the arms of the comfortable darkness that he knew still waited for him. He could lie down for a few moments more, surely that would do no harm?
'No.' the pirate commanded, 'how long you have been here already? Get up, find out what it is you are facing this time.'
He looked down at his bare feet against that warm deck, facing without clothes too.

That thought triggered another, where were his clothes? Perhaps more importantly where were his effects? Being in a strange place without clothes was one thing, being there without weapons was quite different, and of far more concern. No amount of rum had ever caused him to lose those before. The brand on his arm meant that he was never safe, no matter where he was or whom he was with, not without weapons. Clothes could wait but a means of defending himself could not.

Stifling another groan he staggered to his feet, fingers still pressed to the bandage on his brow. The room tilted crazily but he remained upright, though he had to reach for the wall with his other hand to stay so. Moving brought new waves of pain and he gritted his teeth to stay silent. It was as well that the room was small, no bigger than a Spaniard's brig, for he doubted he could have crossed anything larger. Even so the three stumbling steps it took to get him across to the table that formed the main furnishing set his stomach heaving, and started a canon firing in his head to accompany the drum roll already there.

To distract himself he set about inspecting the empty table, as strange as everything else it seemed for it was not made of wood, nor marble, nor anything else he could recall seeing; but it was a smooth as the best glass and as shiny as polished gold. It was, however, also as empty as Jones's locker, with no sign of anything there that could be used as a weapon. Carefully he gripped the edge and tried to pull it towards him but it didn't move and a glance at the floor betrayed the bolts that fixed it into place; no joy there either then.

Jack collapsed against the table and rubbed his neck, wincing as his fingers found a sore spot. Now he was on his feet it wasn't only his head that hurt, his ribs did too, and his neck and his back. Carefully he pulled his hand away and stared at it, no blood, well that was something. Drawing a deep breath he steeled himself to move his head, looking down at himself with unease. His eyes widened as he saw the bruises, livid and still darkening against his skin, he ran one careful finger tip across his rib cage feeling the skin protest as he did so; it looked like he'd taken a heavy beating, well it wouldn't be the first, but it was the first he couldn't recall at all.

He straightened and pushed himself away from the table, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to persuade himself he was starting to feel better; didn't matter whether he was or he wasn't when it came down to it, because the bruises suggested that finding a weapon was certainly his most pressing concern. From the table he turned towards the only other feature of interest in this little room, a closet set into the far wall, at least the tiny knob on the panel suggested it was a closet. Two faltering steps took him there, only to find disappointment when the knob refused to turn. With a curse he shook the door but it appeared to be locked, and the rattle of it sounded like thunder in his head.

With another curse he staggered back across the room and sank down on the bed.

No clothes, no weapons and all the signs of being an unwelcome, and far from honoured, guest. What now? Did he sit here and wait for them to come and finish what they had started? Given that they hadn't finished him the first time he could only conclude that they meant to take their time about it, not a thought that gave him any joy, he'd rather take his chances with the sea. Even without his clothes.

A bubble of unexpected laughter rose up in him, and he smiled a twisted smile, 'a fine start for William's new career,' he found himself thinking, ' finding himself charged with taking a naked and abused Jack Sparrow back to the locker. The boy isn't keen on me as it is and he'll never forgive me for giving him cause for pity. No more than I'd forgive him for feeling it.'
The laughter died as another wave of nausea shook him, and with it came another thought, if he didn't have his coat then he didn't have the chart. Without the chart he couldn't be sure that he'd find the fountain, and without that the prospect of returning to the locker became more real and frightening. A moment of panic followed, but he pushed it away, reminding himself that he'd studied the chart carefully for just such an eventuality. He could get to the fountain without the chart if he had to, but it might make it much harder to retake the Pearl.

Desperation pulled at him and he dropped his head into his hands again, when would it end!

'Not for the moment that's for sure,' the pirate self berated him, 'no one is going to get you out of this other than yourself, so set about doing it. Wait much longer and they, whoever they are, may be back for some more sport with you. That may mean more than just bruises and a sore head this time so it's best avoided if you can manage it.'
'Fine words,' he thought, 'but how am I supposed to be doing that? No weapon, no clothes and no chart. Not to mention no idea of where I am, nor how I got to be here."
'You're Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?' the voice came back, 'When has it ever been easy? Get off your arse and prepare to fight, no one has ever done it for you before now have they? Why then should you expect it to be different this time? Or would you rather die naked and bleeding in the corner of this cell?'

Jack closed his eyes against the picture that created, memories of the past rising to remind him what might be on the other side of that door. He felt the hot surge, pushing away the pain in his head, stifling the aching of his ribs and drowning the threatening despair. He rose and crossed to the door, realising with a spurt of anger that he hadn't even tried it to see if it was locked. Fool! Why had his wits gone a wandering in this way?

His hand was on the lock when he heard footsteps not far away and coming closer. He spun and searched the little room for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere. The bed, he could lie down and pretend to be asleep. But what use would that be? It would be harder to defend himself from the bed than from standing, and easier for them to subdue him.
'Not them though,' his watching mind told him, 'just the one.' So maybe he had a chance of some sort.
With a sudden thought he pulled the sheet from the bunk, twisting into a rope and winding it between his hands as he edged to the side of the door, if he could keep the element of surprise he might choke them before they could raise an alarm. Then he might slip out and be over the side and free before they knew it.

The footsteps didn't slow as they approached the door, nor was there the sound of a key in the lock, instead the door slid sideways and suddenly Jack was facing the last thing he had expected. His eyes widened with the surprise of it,
"Who are you?" he heard his own voice demand.

The woman in the doorway, and there was no doubt that she was a woman despite the man's clothing, took a step back from the threshold, her hands dropping to her belt in manner he recognised only too well, though he couldn't see her pistol. She smiled slightly, one eyebrow flicking for a second as her eyes darted over him before coming back to meet his own,
"Like minds and all that, it seems," she drawled, "and there was I hoping to ask you the same question."