Leaving the MST building, Bill accepted his first defeat, but he knew he had not yet lost. He didn't anticipate the difficulties Sasha and Ricky faced at the Marine Academy and hadn't thought they would agree to take Rance as a senior officer—even if it was a temporary assignment.
The fact that they had either matured over the past couple of years or underestimated how bad things were said a lot. From their stories, Bill couldn't understand the Marine Academy's motivation, but regardless, he now needed to convince Rance, and then he would have the whole group.
He wasn't planning to "count his chickens before they hatched," but he felt the odds were in his favor. Bill and Rance had always gotten along well, and even as a child, Bill found it easiest to communicate with him.
Rance was the one Bill most frequently trained with when Aramaki was teaching them. Most importantly, Rance was very similar to Bill in his childhood.
In fact, Rance was the only person for whom Bill had prepared a gift—and in a humorous form at that.
Feeling confident, Bill patted his chest and felt his gift. Glancing at the sky, he realized it was around noon. He knew he needed to return home soon, but he thought he still had some time.
Jumping from the second floor of the fortress, he headed toward the mountain. Along the way, several Marines noticed him, but they either recognized him or his Captain's cloak, so no alarm was raised.
It only took a few minutes for Bill to land in front of Sheriff MacGrew's house, where he assumed Rance and Fia would be.
Collecting his thoughts, Bill knocked three times, and soon he heard the sound of footsteps behind the door.
The door was opened by a tall girl, nearly six feet, with bronze skin wearing an apron.
"Bill?" said Fia, continuing, "Come in, Rance and Mr. MacGrew are in the living room."
Nodding and slightly bending his head to fit through the door, Bill thanked her and watched as Fia headed to the kitchen with Rance's mom.
"How are you doing, Mrs. MacGrew?"
She was a small woman, not taller than five feet, slightly plump, but her face lit up when she saw Bill. She approached him with a smile.
"Bill! You're just in time! Fia and I were about to make lunch. Would you like us to make some for you too?"
Leaning down, Bill accepted her hug, and after a moment's thought, decided to accept her offer.
"Great, we're glad you're here, young man," she said and returned to the kitchen.
As Bill made his way to the living room, Fia called out to him, "Are you still eating the same thing?"
Smiling, Bill replied, "You know I've never refused your food, and I'm not starting today!"
And that wasn't just flattery. Fia had been working in the kitchen as an assistant since she was nine, and by twelve, she was helping the head chefs cook. By fourteen, she could make breakfast for eight hundred Marines on her own.
If anything could be said, it was that her work limited her experience to a few dishes, but she mastered making the most out of what she had. Bread, green leaves, eggs, Sea King meat, and citrus desserts were her arsenal with which she could feed an army.
She was pleased with his response and, turning on her heels, continued chatting with Mrs. MacGrew while Bill walked ahead.
"Bill, I thought it was you!" came a familiar voice.
"Hello, Rance. How are you doing, Mr. MacGrew?"
Upon seeing Bill, the older man didn't stand, but nodded and said, "All is well. We're glad to see our son home."
Bill smiled and sat down. The living room had large furniture suitable for someone nine feet tall—perhaps added especially for his father, though Bill never asked.
Without televisions, living rooms were more like conversation halls, and once seated, Bill joined the discussion.
Rance: "Bill, as I was telling my father, the reason pirates are multiplying is because too many islands support them. Here's a fact: the same merchant who complains about being robbed at sea is the first to buy dubious goods. These people are eating themselves alive for profit, and if this continues, there won't be an honest person left at sea."
Shrugging, Mr. MacGrew replied, "Piracy has always existed; it can't be avoided. We need to promote better ways of living. Most islands earn enough to pay their dues, and the only reason to be poor is laziness. Don't work, don't eat. That's what your grandfather told me, and he was right.Bill remained silent, watching as Rance shook his head.
"That's not right, Dad. I've seen firsthand the benefits of being a criminal."
"When pirates work, they might work harder than many of us marines. The problem is that a pirate crew can make a successful raid and, by selling the stolen goods, earn more Beli than they would in half a lifetime of honest labor. Of course, that's not always the case—pirates are degenerates, after all—but the fact is if they didn't squander their money, piracy would be profitable."
At this, the Sheriff nodded thoughtfully and spoke before Bill could interject: "Degenerates is the key word. These people lack any moral principles, which is why they do what benefits them without caring about anything else. As your grandfather used to say, 'Don't work, don't eat,' and I'd prefer all these pirates starve to death."