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artwell gazed at the silver face cupped in his large, strong hands. Despite being an undoubted skull, he felt no horror or repugnance. Instead, he stared in rapt fascination at the fine structure and highly polished head. Somehow, he knew he was looking at a woman and he found the sight beautiful.

   He squinted through the folds of rough netting and saw the body was likewise silver and skeletal and riddled with mysterious brass devices including a great many cogs and wheels, much like the intricate mechanism from the finest clock. The gearing seemed designed to allow flexibility at the elbows, knees, hips and all other joints besides. It flashed across his mind that he could be looking at some sort of automaton, but he immediately discounted this because he somehow knew that the unearthly figure lying on top of him was alive.

   Inside the skeleton were muscles and organs which appeared to be human rather than mechanical, though he noticed that the heart seemed to have some sort of device, again rather like clockwork, built into the muscle and chambers. As his wonderment rose, the heart convulsed, quivered and began to beat. As it did, the machinery within began to rotate and oscillate, working perfectly with each rhythmic thud of the organic heart. As the heartbeat grew stronger, the cogs spun faster, the noises of the machinery increased and the silver residue caught in the netting coalesced and flowed like drops of rain on a window, forming, splitting and reforming as though seeking out the right configuration.

   Hartwell felt the strange liquid run over his limbs, the touch light yet hot as it spread over his hands, ran up his arms and across his chest, caressing him in a sensual embrace under his clothes, winding its way around his torso and down his legs before lapping at the top of his thighs.

   As quickly as the fluid had enveloped him, it withdrew and poured itself, faster and stronger now, over the silver skeleton, running in and out of the exposed bones and around the internal organs before stretching and distorting, spreading out over the ribs, enveloping the stomach, running down the legs and across the arms until the sheen covered the entire figure and was revealed as a snug, glistening, silver skin.

   The skin rose up over the long, graceful neck of the creature, lapping around the skull and forming a fully detailed, beautiful face, with sensuous lips, a pert nose, fine cheekbones and trembling eyelids. As the skin met at the top of the head, it rebounded and rippled, as though a stone had been thrown into a clear pond. All that was missing was hair and that soon sprouted from the bald head, a mass of soft silver fibres which spread out in wild abandon.

   A fine downy covering, shaped almost like a perfect triangle, sprouted between the thighs, while the silver breasts and nipples were also forming, reaching out and pressing against Hartwell's chest as though aroused by his mere presence. The fingers of the woman laced through his own as the body began to undulate gently, softly rubbing against him, the hot silver skin sending a frisson of pleasure through his body. He felt a sense of tender desire for the beautiful, otherworldly creature seep through him, but he clamped his mind down against the unwanted feelings. Then the eyelids sprang open and Hartwell gazed into her perfect ice-blue sapphire eyes and he knew he was lost.

"
ister Fitch, Mister Tench!" roared Hartwell, for although he was lost, he did not intend to give into his feelings. He could not afford to. The welfare of his sister and his crew took priority over his own desires—anything else would be dishonourable. Besides, whatever was lying on him was clearly not human and therefore, she could not be for any human.

   "Captain?" goggled Tench as he and Fitch ran forward. He could only see the odd glimpse of the naked, silver back through the netting, but what he could see hinted very strongly at a woman. And an attractive one at that. Silver women being dredged from the ocean was not what he had been expecting when he got up that morning, but then, it had been a rather unusual day all round.

   "Be so kind as to release me and this… lady from the net," said Hartwell with as much dignity and authority as he could manage with a naked silver woman purring on top of him. At least, it sounded like she was purring. Maybe it was the cogs and gears inside making the thrumming vibration. Or perhaps it was his heart beating painfully within him.

   "Aye, aye, sir," replied Fitch as he and Tench began to untangle the net. Even in the situation they were in, he couldn't help grinning. It was the first time he had ever seen the captain flustered in any way.

   "And what of the admiral?" demanded Hartwell. "I can't see a damn thing from down here."

   "No ships in view, sir," replied Fitch. "I think your manoeuvre has succeeded in shaking them off. For a while, anyway." He continued to pull at the netting, trying to unravel the captain and the woman. Is it a mermaid the captain has dredged up? he wondered to himself. Can't be, no tail, he added as a long, shapely leg was revealed.

   "If we have given them the slip, we'd better all get dried out," decided Hartwell. "Sort some clothes, will you?"

   "Er, yes, Captain," said Fitch, wondering where he was going to find any clothing at all.

   "There are some clothes in the captain's cabin," called out Madrigal from the wheel. "Including some dresses for the young lady and that… thing you pulled from the ocean."

   "Do a lot of entertaining, do you?" enquired Tench.

   Madrigal shrugged. "The clothes were there when I acquired the ship," he replied. "I don't know who they belonged to originally."

   "And how long have you held this vessel?" asked O'Rourke, who was keeping his distance from the woman.

   The sun glinted brightly off her skin, dazzling the crew, who were all clearly frightened of the strange creature. Some were mumbling prayers, while others were holding holy relics of dubious provenance for protection. Being sailors, they believed implicitly in old mariner's tales of lost souls, kraken, sirens, mermaids and many others besides and although a naked, silver woman was a new one to their superstitious minds, they had a mental space for her built into their perceptions of the world.

   "I've only just got her," answered Madrigal. "I needed a ship for the rendezvous with Admiral Johnson and this one was available."

   "What do you mean by
available,
exactly?" demanded Fitch suspiciously.

   "I mean it was available for purchase," replied Madrigal, levelly.

   "Really? And what is the name of this vessel?" Hartwell asked with a raised eyebrow. "You stole it, didn't you?" he continued as Madrigal hesitated. "We are on board a stolen pirate ship."

   "Oh, marvellous," muttered Tench. "As if we didn't have enough to concern us, what with half the admiralty after us and a demon from the sea on board and now we can expect a pirate to be after us to reclaim his ship."

   "The ship was abandoned long ago," said Madrigal. "I doubt the owner, whoever he was, will care very much."

   "Long ago?" asked Sporrit in alarm. He had already noticed the worrying tilt to one side. "This hulk is barely seaworthy!"

   "It will get us back," announced Madrigal with more confidence than he felt. In truth, he had been hoping to get passage on one of the admiralty ships back to a safe port. He hadn't been expecting the old, battered galleon to have to make the return journey, never mind survive a flaming meteor and a miniature tidal wave.

   "If there's nothing we can do about it," interrupted Susanna, "we can at least carry out my brother's suggestion of changing out of our wet clothes."

   Madrigal nodded, appreciating Susanna's practical term of mind.

   "Would you like to accompany me to the captain's cabin to search for some clothes?" asked Susanna uncertainly of the silver woman.

   The woman, who had been looking around at the ship and crew, apparently completely unconcerned at being naked, cocked her head to one side as though wondering what the smile meant.

   Susanna felt a rush of pity for the friendless creature. Besides, it hadn't escaped her notice that the woman—and whatever she was, she was certainly a woman—never let her brother out of her sight. Susanna held her hand out, her fingers outstretched and smiled warmly.

   Hartwell held his breath, wondering what the silver woman would do, fearing for his sister. He relaxed as he saw the strange creature, after a moment's hesitation, reach out and take Susanna's hand.

   "Gosh, you have a cool touch," said Susanna, much to Hartwell's surprise. Perhaps the strange skin had cooled from its molten form?

   The silver woman held Susanna's hand tightly and then, after a pause in which she wrinkled her nose up in a very pretty manner, said in a perfect replica of Susanna's voice:    "Gosh, you have a cool touch."

   "She sounds just like you, miss," gasped Tench.

   The woman glanced at him and then grinned. "Then I shall lower the pitch," she said, her voice dropping and becoming disturbingly husky. "Is that better, Mister Tench?"

   "How do you know my name?" demanded Tench in fear.

   "I heard the captain call to you just now, though I did not understand the words then," replied the woman. "That has only come through my Tactile Communication Transfer Protocol."

   "Your what?" asked Tench in bemusement.

   "Never mind. I believe we were going to sort some clothes?"

   "Indeed," replied Susanna a little nervously. "Let's see what we can find."

   "Let's. And do not fear me. I intend you no harm." She squeezed Susanna's hand slightly as she spoke and Susanna squeezed back, both women accepting and trusting each other.

   "What's your name, my lady?" she asked as they walked toward the cabins.

   "Mechatronic," replied the silver woman after a slight pause.