The sails danced and cracked, the wind rising on its way to a full gale. Dusk had fallen, the watch was light, and most of the men were eating by now. That or carousing below decks, for the rum ration was double tonight - a reward after the recent skirmishes. The Governor's ships had nearly got them in the early hours of dawn; had come perilously close to outclassing them; and if it hadn't been for all the long days of practising together; all that time spent fighting as a crew; they would be dead by now, or in irons on the way to shore. Captain Josiah Day was a strict commander of men, but he knew when to go easy with the rules and let the crew relax a little. The Governor's little fleet wouldn't try again yet; and besides, they couldn't fight what they couldn't find. The Dragon had long earned her reputation as the fastest vessel in the Caribbean, and nothing the Governor owned could match her for speed.

"You're not eating tonight, sir?" Turner, one of his officers, was standing at the port rail, gazing out to sea. Ever the cautious type, Turner. Always on the look out for danger. Sometimes Josiah found his watchfulness amusing, but tonight he was more of a mind to encourage it. If it hadn't been for Turner, always on the alert, the Governor's ships might have had the advantage of surprise that morning. Tonight Turner could worry over distant shadows to his heart's content.

"I shall probably go below later." Josiah leaned on the rail as well, looking out to sea. "It could be a wild night. Best to eat before the sea gets too rough, and the stew plasters itself all over the galley."

"Some days, sir, that's the best place for the stew." Turner smiled. "But I doubt it'll be that bad tonight. My hand goes as stiff as a board when we're in for a real storm, but it's just tingling for now. I doubt it'll get too rough."

"Well I hope that your hand is right, Mr Turner. The men deserve their rest every once in a while." Josiah turned to look up at the restless sails. "It'll not be a quiet night, at any rate." A shooting star arched its way overhead, and he smiled at the sight of it. "Well that's supposed to mean good luck, isn't it?"

"What, sir?" Turner also turned to look, and a second shooting star blazed briefly into life. "Oh, is that what you meant? Always thought they were probably good luck, just as long as they don't land on you. Got to land somewhere, after all."

"Only you could think of that." Josiah smiled at the thought, but at that moment a third and a fourth and a fifth fiery trail shone out against the sky. His smile became a frown. "A shower of them. We'd best hope the men don't catch wind of this, or they'll be demanding we put to port and don't set sail again until I've found someone to bless the ship. They're bound to insist that it signifies something."

"There's more of them sir." Turner pointed, and together they watched as the rain of stars came down. "Hundreds and hundreds of them, and so many different colours. I don't like the look of it."

"Worried they might be going to land on us?" Josiah shook his head. "I don't think it works that way, Mr Turner. How many tales have you heard of shooting stars? And how many tales of them landing on people? For all we know, they're not even solid. It might be dust, or nothing but flames that the sea can put out in an instant." Another flurry of stars burst out of the darkness, and he whistled softly. "I don't think I ever saw anything so beautiful. And look at them, going the other way as well. It's as though there were people up there in the sky, throwing the things at each other."

"Well as long as they don't start throwing them at us." Turner looked upwards with increasing trepidation. "Sir, I'll admit it's not hard to be sure above the wind and the sails - but does it sound to you as though there's something else above us? I thought, perhaps an animal, screaming?"

"An animal?" Josiah frowned hard, trying to listen. There was something, certainly. Some strange noise far above his head. He couldn't identify it though, and the more he tried to listen, the more he was sure that it was like no sound he had heard before. No animal that he could think of - no bird. No phenomenon of the weather, either. Very slowly, his hand moved to the pistol that he wore in his belt. "I don't--"

"Look out, sir!" With a mighty shove, Turner pushed him to one side, the pair of them stumbling and falling across the deck away from the rail. Josiah had only a confused view of the world then; just a jumble of images of sail and sky and railing; and he wondered what had so panicked Turner. Only then did he see it - a great burning mass falling down out of the sky; a glowing ball of red and orange and yellow that seemed, for an instant, to fight its own descent. Whatever battle a ball of fire could fight with the pull of the Earth, it did not fight it for long, and with a howling, desperate screech, it smashed down into the sea. Spray - hot, boiling spray - splashed across Josiah and Turner, and sparks skittered across the deck. Then, for a second, there was silence.

"There's another one!" Turner was pointing, and Josiah looked automatically - saw another huge ball of flame descend out of the sky. It crashed into the sea just as its predecessor had done, but further away. Much further. This time there was no scream, no spray of hot water and sparks of fire. Josiah was not sorry. One star falling almost onto his head was quite enough for one day.

"Are you alright sir?" Turner seemed anxious, so Josiah answered him quickly, straightening himself up and standing tall. The men had heard something, and they were coming up on deck now. He couldn't look taken aback - not in front of them.

"I'm fine, Mr Turner. Quite fine." He went back to the rail, determined to make a show of his lack of fear. Sailors could be a superstitious lot, and he didn't want any whispers starting up amongst the crew. "Let's see what we have here, shall we?"

"It's a fallen star, sir. I doubt there's much that we can do with it." Turner joined him at the rail, and, after a moment, so did some of the rest of the men. In a long line they stood there, staring down into the sea at the star that had so nearly sunk them. Except... Josiah frowned. Did stars really look like that? Like strange, metal fish, with stubby fins and curious tails? Didn't stars glow? This had glowed when it was falling, but now the fire had gone; the reds and oranges and yellows had turned to a grey-green-blue, and the only thing left that glowed was the lamp one of the men was holding up over the rail. In its light they could all see the 'star' as it hung below the surface of the water, and then, gradually, floated up to the top. Half a dozen men drew their swords; the officers all drew their pistols. Josiah kept his hand ready upon his, but he left it in his belt for the time being. There was little he could do against a giant metal fish from the stars, even with the finest new pistol that money could buy.

"What is it?" whispered a young sailor somewhere off to his left.

"A bloody curse. Sure to be," answered another. Josiah shook his head.

"It's not a curse. It's not a sign, nor a portent, and I won't hear otherwise." A grating, scraping noise came from the fish, and a good half of the spectators drew back with a collective intake of breath. Josiah alone leaned closer then, as close as he could go without climbing over the rail. With the bravest of his men he stood there, looking over the side of his ship, as the back of the fish slid open, and a man clambered out of its innards. For a second Josiah saw inside the fish, and saw a mass of lights and strange things that glowed; then the man was standing on the fish's back, and the doorway to its secrets was closed. They looked at each other then; some twenty men, most with weapons drawn, all pointed at this man from out of the sky; and him standing there, with a smile that even the rough sea and wild wind couldn't diminish.

"Hey," he said, in a tone that suggested the manner of his arrival was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Any chance of a lift?"

For Captain Jack Harkness, formerly of the Time Agency, and originating - as far as anybody knew - in the 51st century, most days involved a fair degree of trouble. It was an occupational hazard, the way that, for dentists, most days involved a fair degree of teeth. Some days it might be nothing more troublesome than part of his ship refusing to work, on the grounds that it had finally realised he wasn't a Chula warrior. On other days, it might mean that - for example - he spent seventeen straight hours on the run from a squad of furious Ice Warriors, who had taken exception to his entirely coincidental acquiring of a large part of their payroll. It wasn't that he actively looked for such situations, it was just that the life he led had something of a tendency to provoke them. Not that Jack often minded. He had a fast ship, a functional time drive and the whole of Time and space to hide in. If he annoyed the wrong person, chances were he could be gone before things got too dicey. Or so went the theory. The problem was that the theory tended to be something of a law unto itself.

And now here was another dubious situation. Jack had a smile that could disarm most humans - and a fair percentage of other sentient species - so step one, as he stood on top of his stricken ship, was to turn on the smile. Nobody returned it, but nobody fired their pistols, either, so things were still looking up. Or they weren't looking down yet, anyway. Step two was to make a basic evaluation. Rough sea - be a good idea not to stand on top of his ship for very much longer then, in that case, or he was going to wind up getting pitched overboard. Sailing ship - probably pre-twentieth century, though it was best not to jump to conclusions. It was no good behaving like a nineteenth century sailor, only to find yourself in the middle of some twenty-third century historical re-enactment society. So no little tick beside "pinpoint era" yet, then. Lots of weapons, all pointed in his direction - familiar, sometimes tiresome, but on the whole nothing to worry about yet. He let his grin broaden quite naturally, and asked for a lift. You never knew your luck. Don't ask, don't get - he'd been living life that way for years.

"It some kind of warning, sir." A grimy, well-built sailor with a beard that looked like seagulls could nest in it, glared down at him suspiciously. "A sign. We should let him drown." Jack decided that he didn't like the sailor very much.

"It's not a sign." Another man, tall and sun-tanned, with the sort of billowing white shirt that the heroes in seafaring tales liked to wear, was frowning thoughtfully down over the rail. He looked like the captain; he certainly radiated authority. Jack's smile latched itself automatically onto him. Mid to late thirties, at a guess. Excellent physique, clean-shaven, hair rather charmingly bleached in places from the sun. Certainly worth latching a smile onto, at least if appearances were anything to go by.

"Hey, come on. I'm harmless!" He held his arms away from his body, and performed a somewhat wobbly three-sixty. "See? And I'm getting wet down here. My ship might sink, and I don't swim too good in storms. And it's cold."

"It's not a whole lot warmer or drier up here." The man in the white shirt stared hard at him for several moments, during which the sea seemed to get rougher still. Jack considered climbing back into his ship - it was watertight, so sinking wouldn't necessarily be a problem. He wouldn't even suffocate, as the ship was more than capable of keeping him supplied with air. Stuck in a little Chula fighter, potentially far below the surface of the sea, wasn't much of a cheery alternative to a quick jaunt on a sailing ship, though. He tried raising his eyebrows and looking endearing. Open flirtation, in public, wasn't usually a good idea when you didn't know what century you were in, but damn it, he was getting wet. And it was starting to rain.

"Pull him up." The man in the white shirt moved away from the rail, and somebody threw down a rope. Jack grinned in triumph, and tying one end firmly to his ship, to be sure of not losing it, he climbed up the line and jumped happily onto the deck. It didn't feel any more secure than his ship, and as it turned out it wasn't really any drier - but it did seem less likely to sink. There were still rather a lot of pistols pointing at him though.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he announced, to anybody who seemed likely to want to listen. The man with the white shirt stood nearby, arms folded, his clear grey eyes focused intently on this unexpected guest.

"Captain Josiah Day," he said eventually. "Of the Dragon." His accompanying expansive gesture showed that that was the ship upon which they now stood, as well as indicating nicely that it, and all upon it, were a part of his own kingly realm. "Have you lost your ship, captain?"

"Not if somebody ties the other end of that rope to something, no." Jack gestured back to the rails. "That's my ship. I know it's a little unusual... or that is, if you've never..." He frowned, wishing that the ship hadn't gone into such a wild free fall before crashing. He was completely clueless as to which year he was in, and his researches of late had been almost exclusively geared towards a planned trip to the early scientific era of the Zygon home world - which this most definitely wasn't. He was flying blind. "Perhaps... I don't suppose you've heard of the Wright Brothers? The Montgolfier Brothers? No?" Damn it, just ask, it was usually the quickest way. "Um... look, what year is this, exactly?"

"The year of our Lord, 1735." Josiah had an eyebrow raised, as though in faint amusement. Either he thought that Jack was mad, or he suspected that he was drunk. Neither was a great starting point to a conversation, but both were better than pistol pointing and obvious suspicion. Jack let his smile out to play once again.

"1735?" That was good. Not great, in that it wasn't a year he knew much about, but not bad, either. When you got shot down in Earth's atmosphere, and your ship went spiralling away through Time, there were all kinds of places that you could end up in. London during the Dalek Invasion; New York during World War Four; even an unstable, volcanic nothingness early in the planet's time line. A brewing storm at sea during 1735 was really rather pleasant in comparison. Now with luck he could play it by ear. "Okay... and this would be which ocean?"

"You don't stand like a man who's had too much rum." Josiah was frowning, but there was the faint hint of a real smile now on his face. Jack offered him a shrug.

"I always was steady on my feet." The ship gave a huge lurch as the sea chose that moment to rise and fall quite alarmingly. "Well, in a manner of speaking. Look, could we carry on this conversation sitting down? Maybe somewhere warm and dry?"

"Just now there aren't many places on board that are dry, let alone warm." Josiah was silent for a moment, staring at him thoughtfully, then sighed. "Weapons away, men. He's nothing dangerous to us. And get back to work."

"Captain..." Turner was lurking nearby, still looking uneasy. Josiah nodding in understanding. Of all of them, Turner alone had been with him to see everything that had happened. Turner alone knew that this new arrival had fallen out of the sky.

"It's alright, Mr Turner. I have the situation under control. Just keep us on course."

"Yes sir." Turner shot Jack a hugely suspicious look, then sloped off back to his duties. The rest of the crew were doing likewise, the captain's word enough to make them obey even in such unusual circumstances. Jack still felt that he was under a powerful scrutiny though - some of these sailors apparently had eyes in their pigtails.

"We should go below decks, then, if you want some chance of being dry." Josiah gestured towards the hatch that led down out of the rain and the building wind. Jack nodded.

"Thanks. Um... listen, there was another ship. Like mine, only... well, not really very like mine. I don't suppose you saw it?"

"What I saw could never be described as a ship by my understanding." Josiah's voice carried sharp meaning. "There was something else, yes. Why?"

"Because it's important. Or it could be. If that ship also crashed then I should go after it."

"Should you indeed." Josiah laughed. "My dear captain, for a man who claims to have his own ship, you show a remarkable lack of thought. We are caught in high winds, and we are travelling south west. The 'ship' you mention is behind us, and to the east. It and we are already a considerable distance apart, and getting further all the while. So unless you propose to swim after it, it will have to stay where it is."

"Ah." Jack nodded. "Yeah. I see."

"I take it you have no plans to jump overboard?"

"Not really, no. I guess it can keep." Jack shot a cautious look back, out into the night in the general direction of the other crashed ship. "Or at least I hope it can."

"There was a man aboard it? A friend of yours?"

"No, not really." Who - more precisely what - had been on board that other ship was not something that he could easily explain to a human from 1735. Not without reinforcing Day's view of him as a possibly insane, possibly drunk, heaven-knew-what. He smiled faintly. "More like an enemy. I'd still like to know what happened, though."

"Perhaps, when the weather has become more calm, you could take a boat back to investigate. There are usually some available for lease." Josiah directed him down a flight of steps that was little more than a ladder, and along a rocking, rolling corridor to a large, carved wooden door. A plaque neatly engraved with the legend Captain Josiah F Day held pride of place below a horseshoe nailed carefully to the wood. "My cabin."

"You're very kind." Jack stood aside to allow him open the door, then followed his companion into the cabin beyond. It was grand, though the décor hinted at a degree of making do with the best that was available. A carved wooden bed stood at one end, its coverings obviously expensive, but clearly very old; and the massive desk that dominated the room lacked a suitably imposing chair, or any of the other usual accoutrements. It was almost bare, with just a few maps and a quill pen to fill up the great space.

"Sit down." Josiah gestured indiscriminately at a number of chairs gathered together on the other side of the desk, and himself took up a position on the edge of the desk itself. When Jack hesitated, he folded his arms again, and frowned. "That wasn't a request."

"Point taken." Jack crossed to the nearest chair, wishing that the deck would stand still beneath his feet, and sat down cautiously. It was never his favourite position, to be seated whilst a man with unknown intent stood before him. Josiah Day was not a small man. "You have questions, captain. I guess I can understand that. If you don't mind me asking, though... just what did you see out there?"

"What did I see? I saw stars in the sky that had no right to be there. Stars that flew at each other, and exploded. I saw stars falling, in more colours than I've ever seen before. And I saw you - your 'ship' as you call it - falling out of the sky, apparently on fire, and crashing down into the sea barely further from me than you are now. Who are you, Jack Harkness? I couldn't have this conversation within the hearing of my men, but by God I'll have it now. What are you?"

"Ah." Jack winced. He had rather hoped that nobody had seen his battle, far up in the air, with the other ship. Not that it had been much of a battle - he had been hopelessly outgunned, disorientated from his free fall through Time. The warp he had fallen through had been a side effect of the battle, he was sure, not helped by the lingering unfamiliarities of his Chula ship. He had more or less won over the onboard computer now, and convinced her that just because he wasn't the original pilot was no reason to try to forcibly eject him, but at times the ship itself still seemed to fight him. There was still too much about it that he didn't quite know. And then had been the battle, the chase, more fighting that he couldn't quite match; and a tumble, over and over through a warp that had seemed determined to blind him, as well as rewrite the book on nausea and bafflement. None of which he could even begin to explain properly to Josiah Day. He couldn't readily explain the sky blue jumpsuit that he was wearing, either; a relic from his last port of call, four thousand years into Day's future; or the laser pistol in his belt; or the boots that were noticeably made of a material unlike any Day had seen before. He didn't want to think how much the crew of the Dragon might have seen of the inside of his ship when he had climbed out earlier - as if the look just of the outside wasn't outlandish enough in their eyes. This was the sort of disaster he had had to write essays about when he had first been in training as a Time Agent.

"I'm waiting." Josiah was not the sort of man to fob off with glib answers; Jack was a good enough judge of character to see that. He smiled awkwardly.

"I'm a man just like you," he said in the end, easing his smile into something more confident, more charming. "Yes, I fell out of the sky, but only because that's where my ship travels. It doesn't go on the water like yours does."

"Ships don't fly," proclaimed Josiah, though there was no unpleasantness in his tone, and his hand did not go to his gun. Jack nodded slowly.

"Here, no. But it's not uncommon where I come from. Birds fly."

"Birds, Captain Harkness, are not made of metal, as your 'ship' appears to be. Metal does not float, and it does not fly. Metal is hard and heavy, and we use it for weaponry, not for ships."

"Yeah." Impasse. He grinned again, letting the unwitting eighteenth century sailor take the full force of the Jack Harkness Charm Offensive. Patent Pending. "Listen, Josiah. Can I call you Joe?"

"My name is Josiah." Day had an eyebrow raised. Whether or not his suspicion was increasing was impossible to tell, but clearly he was intrigued to see where this was heading. Jack shrugged.

"Josiah. Okay, if you prefer. What's a pair of syllables among friends, right? Look, I know you're suspicious, and maybe you have every right to be. A ship falls out of the sky and nearly sets your own ship alight, and you don't have a clue who I am. In your shoes, I guess I'd be suspicious. But whatever you're thinking, I'm not it."

"You don't know what I'm thinking," pointed out Josiah. Jack nodded.

"True. But I can guess. I'm not a magician, and I'm not an angel, or anything like that."

"My dear Captain Harkness." Josiah straightened up, stepping away from the table and heading for a cupboard. "That you might be an angel was the last thing on my mind. I'm fairly certain that angels don't crash into the sea in flames - unless they've been thrown out of heaven. I reserve judgement as to how much magic that you do or don't possess, but I am becoming increasingly certain that you are completely human. Just not necessarily completely sane." He opened the cupboard, revealing a collection of bottles and glasses, carefully packed against the rough seas. "Drink? I have rum of course, and some wine. Rather a rough red I'm afraid, but it doesn't taste too bad if you don't think about it too much."

Jack grinned. "Rum would be great. I like rum." It carried some very pleasant memories of the last time he had drunk the stuff; on a Cuban beach in 1927, with a pair of local women who didn't speak a word of English. They had been so delightfully eager to teach him Spanish that he hadn't bothered to tell them he already spoke it more or less fluently. Inez and Victoria. The perfect accompaniment to any bottle of alcohol. "Does this mean I'm welcome on board?"

"We're out at sea, with a high wind and high waves, Captain Harkness. This is not the best time or place for you to try causing trouble, so yes, you're welcome on board. Only a fool would take on an entire crew on his own. And since it's my policy never to leave a man in distress when there's something I can do about it, I was happy to pick you up whoever you are. Just remember that at the first sign of trouble it's easy enough to toss you over the rail, and it's never pleasant to drown."

"Point taken." He stood up, crossing over to the drinks cabinet with a swagger specially designed to prove that he was steady on his feet once again. The ship rolled beneath him, and he grinned triumphantly. "Does this mean I've found my sea legs?"

"I don't know. We'll see how you do once you've drunk a few measures of this." Josiah handed over a large, rather beautiful crystal goblet filled to the brim with dark rum. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Josiah?"

"I can't imagine why I'd want to do that." The sailor returned to his desk, this time sitting down in the chair behind it. "A toast, captain."

"It's Jack, and I'll toast whatever you want." He raised his glass, smiling happily. "Is it the king or the queen just at the moment? There's been a lot of them, and it can be hard to keep track."

"You're a strange sort of man, Jack Harkness." Josiah smiled. "But since you ask, it's the king. George II. I was actually planning to drink to the eternal damnation of the Governor of Jamaica, but if you'd prefer to play the patriot..."

"Not necessarily." Jack sat on the corner of the desk near to Josiah. "It seems kind of unfair to drink to someone's eternal damnation when you haven't even been introduced, but then I never did get on very well with governors. Of any kind."

"A common problem in these parts."

"Yeah? Last governor I met tried to have me torn into quarters. He seemed to think it would improve my appearance. Even got as far as tying me to four horses, but fortunately for me they were drunk." He shrugged. "Don't know how that happened. He'd have tried again, but one of them trampled him to death the next morning. I guess it had a really bad hangover."

"Indeed." Josiah held up his glass. "To the eternal damnation of unpleasant governors everywhere, then."

"Hear hear." Jack tossed back the contents of his glass in one swallow, and whistled. "Wow. That's... wow."

"Perhaps you're used to a more sophisticated drink?" Josiah also emptied his glass in one go, though more slowly. Jack shook his head.

"I doubt it." There was little that was sophisticated about an ice bucket full of hyper-vodka and cherries. Rum was certainly quite a bit different when it was bought in bottles from a bar in 1927, though. "Refill?"

"Are you sure that it's not you trying to get me drunk?" Josiah held out his glass, and Jack collected it with an expression of carefully constructed innocence.

"I can't imagine why I'd want to do that." He refilled the glasses. "Another toast?"

"Certainly. Eternal damnation to the Governor of Jamaica?"

"You're a pretty single-minded guy, aren't you." Jack resumed his perch on the edge of the desk. "Actually, I was thinking of being a little more positive this time. Say, to new friends?"

"Friends." Josiah nodded slowly. "I'll always drink to friendship, Jack. Question is, are you a friend?"

"I'm always a friend." Jack held up his glass, ready for the toast. "Or, so long as you don't have a knife at my throat, I'm a friend. Actually, there was that one time..." He flashed a quick smile. "But she was seven feet tall, and the colour of ripe blueberries. She could have had a handful of knives at my throat, I'd still have been friendly."

"You started drinking rum some hours ago, didn't you." Josiah held up his glass as well. "To new friends it is, then. And then we should probably go back up on deck for a while, so that the men can see I'm safe, and that you've not turned into some dreadful monster. Only one of them saw you fall out of the sky, and he's not the kind to spread tales and worry the others, but they'll all be talking and fussing nonetheless."

"It's nice to be talked about." Jack drank the second measure more slowly. "Do they really think I'm some portent of doom?"

"Sure to. Sailors see signs in everything. Most of them have been at sea more or less since they could walk, and the only education they got was from yarns spun by old salts who should have learnt better. I turned to the sea a little later in life. My parents sent me to a proper school, for a time at least. It makes a difference." He emptied his glass. "Or possibly I'm just more easily persuaded by a friendly smile." He stood up. "Come on."

"A friendly smile, huh?" Jack grinned. Now that had been a phrase with potential. He finished his own drink quickly, handing the empty glass to Josiah, who stowed them both away back in their cupboard. The sailor gestured towards the door.

"After you. And be careful. You may be steadier on your feet now, but it's not always an easy task going up and down those steps in rough weather."

"I'll be careful." He had almost commented on having a nice soft landing if Josiah was behind him, but he stopped himself just in time. One could never be too sure with these historical types. Sometimes it was best just to thaw the ice slowly, rather than to break it in one fell swoop. A pleasant possibility suggested itself to him. "I don't suppose we could talk about a change of clothes later? I feel a little noticeable dressed this way."

"Yes, I suppose you do stand out rather." Josiah nodded absently. "We'll see what we can find later on. I have a chest full of clothes, and there's sure to be something in there that'll fit you. You're a little slighter than me, but not much smaller. By the look of things." Jack bit back a retort about comparing sizes later.

"I'd appreciate that. Thankyou." He smiled politely, then led the way out of the cabin, back towards the steps that led up on deck. "This is a beautiful ship. How did you come by her?"

"Spoils of war, you might say." Josiah looked about him with an obvious sense of pride. "She certainly is a fine ship. I'd like to see yours, if I may, Jack. A ship made of metal, that can fly through the air? If it's true it's a wonderful thing."

"Er, yeah." Jack winced slightly. Still - people had been exposed to anachronistic technologies in the past without it doing any harm. Back in his Time Agent days he had once lost a laser gun to a sixteenth century native of Papua New Guinea, and so far hadn't heard tales of any ultra-sophisticated tribes or highly confused archaeologists. If Josiah did have a look at the ship, he wouldn't understand what he was seeing. And what he didn't understand, he couldn't readily talk about, let alone consider copying. "When the sea calms down I ought to check everything out, make sure there's nothing the auto-repair can't cope with. Maybe you can have a look then."

"Thankyou." Josiah looked quite endearingly excited, if confused by Jack's terminology. "I'd appreciate that. And perhaps--" But he got no further, for at that moment from the deck above there rang out a choking scream. It lasted perhaps a second before breaking sharply off, and in an instant all was commotion. There was a thundering of feet on the decking; a chorus of voices yelling, shouting, screaming - and above it all, rising from a low, throaty growl, was a roar that seemed to make the very sea vibrate. Josiah turned pale.

"What in heaven's name...?"

"Oh no." Jack had come to a standstill, one hand on the rail of the ladder, one foot on the bottom rung. "Damn it, no."

"Jack...?" Josiah didn't register the look of understanding that showed on his guest's face. His only concern was in discovering what had terrified his men. Jack looked back at him.

"What?" It dawned on him that he was in the way; that Josiah wanted to get topside quickly; and inwardly he gave a grim little smile. Topside. Great plan. Not that there was any escaping it, even if he had been prepared to let the captain go up there alone. He nodded slowly, and hurried on up the ladder. Josiah was close behind him all the way.

"Captain!" It was Turner, greeting them as they came out of the hatchway, a look of huge relief on his face. Either the appearance of his superior was a tonic for his nerves, or he had feared for Josiah's safety alone with the stranger from the skies. Josiah nodded a greeting.

"Turner. What's happening? I heard--"

"A monster, sir." It wasn't like Turner to interrupt the captain, but he did so now. The fearsome roar rang out again, and somewhere nearby somebody screamed. There was a splash that sounded out above the howling wind and cracking sails, and Josiah's eyes widened.

"Man overboard!"

"There's nothing we can do for him, sir!" Turner grabbed the other man's arm, pulling him away from the hatch, and towards the open deck. The other men were there, fighting each other for the shelter of the mainmast, waving their swords and pistols in the air. Only then did Josiah see what had terrified them, and when he did so, his body seemed to freeze on the spot.

It was a monster, most certainly - he had been about to berate Turner for calling it that, but now that he saw it for himself, he could not fault the name. He had intended to shout at his men for their behaviour, but now he couldn't blame them at all. He could merely stare, and pray that the thing would disappear. Needless to say, it did not.

It was green and scaled and stood on two legs, like some tailless, vertical crocodile. A massive mouth lined with teeth snapped the air, and its two arms, ending in hands that were a mass of claws, swiped wildly at everything that moved. It was twenty feet tall at least, and it seemed to hover, weirdly, in mid air. It didn't look real - it couldn't be real - and yet there was no doubting its presence. No questioning that it really was there. Turner was pointing his pistol at it, but there seemed little chance that it would do any good to shoot the thing with so ordinary a weapon. As if to prove this, somebody fired, but the creature showed no reaction at all.

"It's crazy, sir. We've lost two men to it, but it didn't seem to touch them." A bearded youngster with a tattooed neck stumbled towards Josiah and Jack, pointing to his shirt as he did so. It was flecked with blood. "Henry, sir. This is Henry's blood, and that thing didn't go near him. But you tell me what else could've sliced Henry up? It made a move with its claws, and it got him without touching him. I swear it, sir."

"He's right, sir." Turner had a tremble in his voice, but his eyes were steady and honest. "I saw it. We all saw it. I don't know what that thing is, but it kills without touching."

"No it doesn't." Jack spoke quietly, heart heavy from the downward pull of his spirits. "Not exactly. Listen, Josiah, you have to get your men all together, facing outward. Protect each others backs. I know this thing."

"Now there's a surprise." For an apparently nervous man, Turner showed sudden courage in his anger. "You come out of nowhere, a man of obvious magic thrown out of the sky, and soon afterwards we're visited by some dreadful beast. We should never have brought you on board."

"That's as may be." Jack turned his back on the sailor, concentrating solely upon Josiah. "Listen to me. That thing up there, it's not the real danger. I know you're not going to understand this, but it's just a projection. A hologram. The real thing isn't that big - it's maybe eight feet tall at the most - but it's somewhere near here right now, and that's the thing that's killing your men. What you see now is a distraction, designed to scare you right into the hands of the real beast. I know this thing. I've seen them before."

"A projection? Hologram?" Josiah shook his head, confused. "Jack, this beast has killed two of my men. We have to fight it."

"Fight, yes. But not that thing. It's not real, Josiah. It's nothing more than light sent to make you look the wrong way." The roar rang out again, louder than ever, and several of the men stumbled backwards, away from the towering beast. Jack spun around towards them. "No! Stay together!" The beast roared again, and took a step forward, its huge clawed feet never once quite touching the deck. The men who had run stopped at the sound of Jack's warning, but one of them, with less nerve than the others, began to edge away once again. Jack drew his laser pistol.

"Come back! You don't have to run away from that!" The man carried on backing away, and the monster roared again. A fearful mutter arose amongst the men cowering by the mast, and the huge beast took another step forward. The retreating man bolted at once.

"No!" Jack took a step after him, but was not nearly quick enough. In the blink of an eye a green shape swung up over the rail - a scaled down version of the monster hovering above the deck - and the sailor, looking backwards all the while, ran unwittingly into its grasp. Its huge claws lashed; the sailor's chest split open in a fountain of rain-laden red; then the vast jaws snapped shut on his neck. Jack fired once; a burst of brilliant blue that hit the beast squarely on the shoulder; but it barely seemed to register the hit. With hands and mouth full of its bloodied victim, it swung itself back over the rail and was gone. A second later its giant mirror image was gone as well. Jack slammed his gun back into his belt with all the force he could muster. Not that anger could help that sailor, or the two who had gone before it. Not that anger would prevent the monster's return. It helped him, though. It made him feel as though he still had something to give.

"Has it... gone?" asked somebody. Jack nodded.

"Yeah, it's gone. For now." He turned away from the blood running with the rain across the deck, and looked instead to Josiah. "It's likely to head for wherever there are people. Any large population centre is at risk. Where's the nearest city?"

"City? The closest 'population centre' as you call it would be the town by the docks." Josiah was frowning deeply, all signs of the near playfulness of earlier gone. "Jack, I'm sorry, but I think it's time that you answered a few questions; and I don't just mean ones about your ship, or where you come from. That monster was known to you."

"Yes." Jack looked away briefly. There was no point trying to deny it now, when he had already admitted as much. "It's a Kamon. They're... well it's kinda hard to explain."

"I think that you should try. Was it in the other 'ship'?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"Then it's here because of you? Did it come after us trying to find you?"

"No." Jack flinched inwardly. "I don't think so. Look, it was following me, yeah. And it's sort of here because of me, but I'm not why it attacked the ship. It just looked for the first people it could find, and I guess this crew was it. Listen, we have to get to shore as fast as we can, and warn the people there. I was hoping that it would have been killed or injured in the crash. It wasn't registering any life signs when we went into the ocean, but I guess that might just have been my instruments malfunctioning." He remembered who he was talking to, swore softly, and changed tack abruptly. "Never mind. Look, that thing likes the sea, and it's got a hell of a speed when it wants it. We need to warn the people in the nearest settlement."

"That's not really an option." Josiah's voice was colder than it had been before. Jack frowned.

"Josiah, maybe you don't understand. Just because it came after us then, is no reason to assume it'll bother with us again. It won't need any more food for a while, so it's just going to get back under the water and swim for shore. Towards the nearest people. We've got to try to get there first and warn them."

"You expect us to walk into town, and tell the people there that a large green monster is going to come ashore and start eating everybody?" Josiah shook his head. "Even if they did believe us, we wouldn't get the chance to tell many of them - if any at all. We'd not get past the harbour."

"We have to try!" Jack pointed towards what was left of the gory stain on the deck where the last sailor had been attacked. The rain had washed much of it away, but a mark of red still remained. "You saw what happened to that man. Your crew saw it happen to two others as well. We've got to get to that town, and warn the people there what might be coming!"

"We can't!" Josiah's fury seemed to burst out of him like an explosion. "Jack, if we sail openly into the harbour we'll be intercepted, or just blasted out of the water before we can get close enough to put ashore. If we anchor out of sight, and go ashore secretly, it'll take hours - too many hours, like enough. And even then we'd be discovered before we could give any warning. We are not welcome in that town, Jack. Take a look at the flag that's flying above your head. Haven't you noticed it? Didn't you wonder at my little toast down in the cabin? And what about when you asked about this ship? Spoils of war, I said. I stole this ship from the Governor of Jamaica when he sent it after me, and it all but battered the deck beneath me to smithereens. Me and my crew fought our way out of the wreckage of our own ship, boarded this one and took it as our own. We're pirates, Jack, and there's not a man or a woman for miles along the shoreline that doesn't know it. Anybody in a uniform will arrest us, and anybody else in that town will turn us in for the reward. We can't warn anyone. Whatever's coming for them, they're on their own. That's how it is."

"Maybe he has a problem with us being pirates." Turner had not put away his sword; none of the crew had stowed away their weapons. He pointed his now at Jack. "He said he was a captain, and I'd like to know what of. Maybe he's from that fleet we ran into early this morning. The ships sent against us by the Governor?"

"You know that's not true, Turner." There was an edge to Josiah's voice, and for a second Turner seemed discomforted. Then he frowned again.

"We still don't know who he is, captain. Seems to me we need to be sure he's not going to try turning us in for that reward himself."

"Yeah, let's talk about trust and rewards and who's at the top of the Most Wanted list. Now's a great time for that, with a monster out there wanting to eat us, along with half the inhabitants of the coastline." Jack looked away, exasperated. "You did just see that thing, right? The big green thing with all the teeth? You can't shoot it. You can't stab it with a sword. Hit it with the biggest cannon balls you can fire, and you might just make it wobble. But hey, what does that matter, when you want to talk about whether or not I like pirates."

"Now is as good a time as any to talk of trust. The monster has gone, at least for the time being." Josiah was watching his guest with shrewd eyes, clearly trying to guess at the truths behind this strange visitor. "Back about your work, men. Keep us as steady as you can."

"Sir..." The young man with the beard, still spattered with the blood of the deceased Henry, looked pale and uncertain. Josiah fixed him with a sharp look.

"Get back about your business, Stephens. All of you. I know that you've just seen something terrible, and I know that some of your friends are dead. Some of my friends, too. We've all been together a long time now, and we'll miss the others. But we still have a ship to run, and a rough sea to get through. You want to reach dry land, and put that creature behind you? You want more rum, and some decent food that's not drenched in salt water? Then get back to work, and see that we make it to shore. You can mourn the others there."

"Yes sir." Stephens turned away, although he didn't look especially encouraged by the captain's words. The other men followed him though, some with more enthusiasm than others. Only when it was clear that his orders were being properly obeyed did Josiah take Jack's arm and lead him back to the hatchway. It felt rather like being put under arrest.

"Answers, Jack." The pirate captain all but pushed him down the ladder. Jack didn't object. He could sympathise with the sudden show of anger.

"I'm sorry about your men," he said, although he knew what a hopeless thing it was to say. It meant nothing. It achieved even less. Josiah didn't even bother to acknowledge the comment.

"You know that beast," he said, as they reached his cabin door. "You brought it with you when you fell out of the sky. What is it? Where does it come from and why is it here? And what was that... that gun you fired at it? Was it a weapon? It looks a little like one, but the way that it fired..."

"One question at a time." Jack still felt rather as though he were in custody, the friendly surroundings of the cabin now taking on something of the atmosphere of a prison cell. Josiah was at least still a friendly guard, but there was more force behind his questions than before; and understandably so. "The beast, as you call it. Like I said, it's a Kamon. As for where it comes from... It's not easy to explain this stuff, Josiah. You can't understand."

"Try me." It was not a forceful demand, but it was a sharp one nonetheless, and it held authority. Jack fell silent for a moment, trying to come up with the simplest explanation; one that a man from eighteenth century Earth might stand some chance of understanding, without hearing too much that he should not yet know. As he had said, it wasn't easy. He sighed.

"The Kamon are genetically engineered." Confuse him with science, and he might forget about asking any more questions. "A race called the Abraxis created them. Nobody really knows why - simple experimentation perhaps. They're not exactly close in their dealings with other races. Anyway, once it was found out how dangerous the Kamon are, the breeding programme was finished, but the creatures didn't like to be contained, and they didn't appreciated being culled. They're intelligent, or at least up to a point. They're not just monsters, anyway. That one was being used as a guard for an abandoned space station..." He trailed off, looking for a better point of reference. "Um... like a... castle. I was on a salvage mission. I thought the place was empty."

"You went in looking for things to steal, and found that there was a guard dog." Josiah was clearly finding the tale hard to follow, but he had picked out the key points easily enough. Jack nodded slowly.

"That's one way of looking at it, yeah. And the guard dog chased me. We fought, and I crashed here. So did it. Like I said, I thought it was dead. I'd have checked, I guess, if I hadn't come on board."

"But it wasn't dead, and now you say that it will kill, and that it can't be stopped." Josiah shook his head. "Perhaps Turner was right, and we should never have brought you on board."

"It wouldn't have made any difference. It's probably not even after me anymore. Right now it just wants to kill and to eat, and Kamons have a particular fondness for the taste of humans. Given all the species that there are in the universe, that could almost be a compliment."

"I'm supposed to be glad that it wants to eat me?"

"Well, no..." He frowned. "Just that... never mind."

"You truly are a strange man, Jack." For a second it seemed as though Josiah might break into a smile, but the softening of his expression never quite happened. "I have to go back on deck, and be with my men. You're to stay here until we reach land. I mean it, Jack. I'll post a guard if need be."

"There's no need for a guard." Jack looked downward momentarily. "I'm not your enemy, Josiah. Really."

"I believe you, I think. A part of me wants to trust you, but the truth is that there are just too many unanswered questions - and then there's that beast. Perhaps you're telling the truth, and it's not here because of you. Who knows? Whatever the truth of it, it's your fault that it's here. Besides, the men don't trust you, and that's what counts right now. So you stay here." He took a step towards the door, then stopped and turned back. "You wanted to change, and I think it's probably for the best. There's a chest over there full of clothes. Feel free to take what you want."

"Sure." This wasn't exactly going the way that Jack had hoped. He tried out a faintly rueful, typically charming smile. "I don't suppose you feel inclined to stay and help?" On his way to the door once again Josiah paused, and again seemed to come within an inch of smiling.

"Jack..." He managed to sound faintly disapproving, though with the smile just touching his voice, then abruptly turned around again and was gone. Jack sighed, watching the door swing quietly closed. Great. Just great. Still, at least it wasn't locked. He wandered disconsolately over to the nearest chair and sat down. It was time to think, to review the situation and examine his obstacles and assets. First, consider the pros. He had a serviceable laser pistol, a fortunately waterproof wrist computer, a good pair of boots, and a chest full of eighteenth century pirate gear to play dress up with. He also had (well, nearly) rather a good looking pirate captain who showed promising signs that he might be willing to play some games himself. That left the cons. He was trapped thousands of years in his own past, with a malfunctioning ship, a gang of pirates who apparently wanted to make him walk the plank, and a ferocious, man-eating alien beast that he had inadvertently brought to Earth and let loose amongst the populace. As cons went, that was really quite a list. Still, he was alive. Given that he had just crashed his ship into the sea after a one-sided dogfight waged through a time warp, that was something to be mildly surprised about, as well as grateful. He smiled to himself. Things weren't so very bad, really - if you ignored the pissed off pirates and the ferocious, man-eating alien beast. He'd been in worse trouble. And if he survived, he probably would be again.

Which, on reflection, wasn't necessarily as encouraging as it might have been.