"Land ho!" The cry came from the crow's nest. Within seconds all of the deck hands had rushed to the front bow of the ship, peering to the horizon, eager to get their first glimpse of land in longer than they could remember.

Only the captain remembered that none of the crew had set foot on solid land in over six months.

And what a rough six months it had been. Thinking back on the time they had spent together the captain was honestly amazed- though he would never admit it to the crew- they had all made it to this point.

The crew was tired, as was the captain. It was his job, however, to be ever stoic and unmoved throughout the dangers they faced.

But the adventures of their past were, well, in the past. The captain would no longer reflect on the events, instead he would focus on keeping himself and his crew ready for whatever the future may bring.

"Alrightie, you scurvy bastards!" He shouted, taking the helm from his first mate. "Get back to work! Prepare for port!" The crew immediately jumped away from the bow, including his first mate. "I want this to be the cleanest ship they'll ever see!"

He expertly guided the ship into the shallow waters, following the sandy beach waiting for a port city to appear.

But there was no port city.

After an hour the captain decided they would take the rowboats to shore.

The crew piled out of the rowboats, some dropping to their knees just to feel the glimmering white sand with their hands.

"Quit acting like you've never been on land before!" The captain barked, secretly thankful for the land, port city or not.

He confidently marched forward, the crew following close behind up the beach.

The sand of the beach sloped upwards, forming small dunes not far from the water. The dunes got larger as they moved farther from the water. After walking for nearly half an hour they came to a large grass hill that extended as far as they could see to the left and the right.

The captain marched up the hill without hesitation, his trusting crew following him with only a few concerned looks.

At the top of the hill, the captain stopped. His crew lined up along the crest of the hill, waiting for his next move.

After a few minutes, his first mate turned to look at him.

"What is it Capt'in?"

The captain turned his head to look at the most trusted member of his crew.

"It's a tree, Mr. Quinn."

"Yes, Capt'in, but what about those bright, red things hanging from it?"

The hill circled a large flat grass plain. In the very center of the plain was a single tree. It was not a tall tree, but there were dozens of small red bulbs hanging from the branches. It was the bright red things that had stopped the captain's march. Something about them did not seem right to him. He had to look confident in front of his crew, though.

"They are…" He paused for just a moment. "They are food; and they are for us."

"For us, Capt'in?"

"Yes. Each man may have one!"

And with that the crew, eager to finally have food for the first time in as long as they could remember, rushed down the hill at full speed, tearing the grass out of the ground as they slid to a stop at the base of the food tree.

They eagerly and viciously yanked the red bulbs from the tree, sinking their teeth into them. The red bulbs were white, juicy and very tasty inside. The red skin was very thin and didn't taste like much of anything. The center of the food was harder, and tasted bitter. There were also tiny, hard brown things scattered around the center.

Suddenly, from the top of the hill, there came a loud whooping. The crew looked up to see a dozen hunched figures holding large sticks or stones of some sort coming down the grassy slope.

"What are they Capt'in?" The crew turned to him, obviously terrified.

"They must be the animals which feed from this tree. Every man back to the ship!"

The crew turned away from the figures and ran for the hill, but the animals were faster. As they neared the crew they began whooping more.

Suddenly the first mate was struck in the head by a stone, thrown by one of the creatures. He stumbled and fell, the captain turning around to help him.

"Capt'in…" The first mate struggled to speak, his voice coming as a ticking noise.

The animals rushed closer, whooping even more.

The first mate's voice became a mechanical whir and the hole made in his head by the stone sparked.

The crew, who had turned around to protect their captain, collided with the animals, which immediately began bashing the crew with their makeshift weapons.

The captain stood up, looking down at the body of his first mate, the dirty silver skin glinting in the bright sun.

A sudden low-pitch whistle snapped his attention to the crest of the hill. More figures, wielding rudimentary weapons, were rushing down to join the fight.

All around him his crew had fallen, their metallic bodies glinting from underneath the dirt.

The creatures were everywhere, and had been every time they tried to stop on land. This was why they'd been at sea for so long, the captain realized. He should have remembered when they didn't find a port.

There was never a port- not even the captain could remember that.