Peter Pan and the Airship Darlings

The low hum of the steam engines filled the air as Smee bustled about the deck of the Jolly Roger, his small hands adjusting a series of gears and levers with practiced precision. The thick, oily smoke from the engines drifted lazily above, curling up into the sails like the breath of some iron beast. To Smee, the sound was almost comforting, a steady reminder that while Captain Hook plotted and fumed, the heart of their ship kept ticking.

“Perfectly timed, as always,” he muttered to himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow as he examined a pressure gauge near the engine room’s entrance. The needle trembled near the red line, but Smee gave the valve a quick turn, releasing just enough steam to bring the pressure back under control. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it kept the ship moving—and kept Captain Hook from flying into one of his infamous rages.

The Jolly Roger wasn’t like any other ship on the seas of Neverland. While other vessels relied on wind and sails, the pirates had found an advantage in steam technology, something Hook had discovered long before they’d reached Neverland. Beneath the weathered wood and dark iron of the ship, hidden below deck, was a tangled network of pipes, boilers, and mechanical gears—Hook’s pride and joy.

Smee often found himself grateful for the machines. Without them, they’d be left adrift, waiting for the unreliable winds of the island to carry them wherever the island’s whims desired. But with the steam engines, they had control—or as much control as Hook could ever maintain over the wild magic of Neverland.

Smee carefully turned another valve, watching as steam hissed through the pipes that ran along the length of the ship’s deck. The hiss was a constant companion, almost as familiar as the creaking of the ship itself. As he worked, he could hear the faint whir of the gearworks that powered the ship’s propellers, deep beneath the surface of the water.

He wiped his hands on his apron, the grease and grime a badge of honor after a long day’s work. The pirates were all off duty, scattered around the ship, either lazing in hammocks or polishing their weapons, but Smee was always on duty. It was his job to keep the ship running, to make sure everything was in order, and to stay one step ahead of Hook’s tempers.

As he worked, Smee’s thoughts drifted to the captain. Lately, Hook had been more obsessed than usual, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon, his mind always two steps ahead of the crew. He hadn’t slept much, Smee could tell—there were dark circles under Hook’s eyes, and the captain had spent more time in his quarters, pouring over maps of Neverland, than he had on deck.

It wasn’t unusual for Hook to fixate on his rivalry with Peter Pan—in fact, it was more of a daily occurrence—but lately, it seemed different. More desperate. More... dangerous. Smee wasn’t sure what had caused the shift, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the Darlings. Hook had heard rumors of their arrival in Neverland, and ever since, he had been plotting, scheming, and ranting about how Peter Pan’s time was up.

Smee adjusted a few more dials, listening to the satisfying click of the gears as they snapped into place. Despite Hook’s fixation on Peter, the Jolly Roger’s steam engines never failed. They were reliable, unlike the shifting tides or the unpredictable magic of Neverland. There was something comforting in that, something solid and real amidst the chaos.

The ship itself was a marvel of steam and iron—built to weather the storms of Neverland’s strange, uncharted seas. Smee had often thought it was more alive than the crew itself, a beast of iron and fire that carried them through the wilds. The engines’ steady thrum beneath his feet was a reminder that no matter how mad Hook became, the ship would keep moving forward.

“Everything in order, Mr. Smee?” a voice called from behind him.

Smee turned to see Bill Jukes, one of the pirates, leaning casually against the mast, his hand resting on the hilt of his cutlass. Jukes was one of the more practical members of the crew—always ready for a fight, but just as willing to lounge around until Hook barked orders.

“Aye, everything’s ticking along just fine,” Smee replied, patting one of the exposed gears near him. “Wouldn’t want the captain gettin’ all worked up if things started goin’ awry, now would we?”

Jukes chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Worked up? Captain’s already gone halfway mad with all this talk of Pan and those kids. You’d think he’d let it go.”

Smee’s smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not my place to question the captain’s plans, Mr. Jukes. He knows what he’s doin’.”

Jukes didn’t seem convinced, but he let the matter drop, turning his gaze to the horizon. “Well, I hope he knows what he’s doing. Because the crew’s gettin’ restless. They’re tired of waitin’ around for Hook’s next grand plan. They want action.”

Smee frowned, glancing toward the captain’s quarters at the far end of the deck. He could feel it too—the restlessness creeping into the bones of the ship, the unease growing among the men. But Hook wasn’t ready. Not yet. And until Hook gave the word, Smee knew his duty was to keep the engines running, to keep the Jolly Roger moving.

“I’ll talk to the captain,” Smee said finally, his voice quieter than before. “But in the meantime, you lot keep to your duties. The Jolly Roger is the only thing standin’ between us and whatever Neverland throws our way.”

Jukes gave a quick nod, then sauntered off to join the rest of the crew. Smee watched him go, his hand resting on one of the iron bars that lined the deck. The weight of the ship’s steam-powered heart thrummed beneath him, a steady reminder that while the crew might grow restless, the engines would never stop.

Not until Hook’s madness finally reached its peak.

Hook Learns of the Airship

Smee made his way across the deck of the Jolly Roger, the hum of the steam engines fading behind him as he approached the door to Hook’s cabin. The ship creaked beneath his feet, but the faint sound of muttering—something he had grown far too familiar with—leaked out through the cracks in the cabin door. Captain Hook was talking to himself again, the low murmur of his voice betraying his frustration.

Smee hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the iron handle. He had learned long ago to approach Hook with caution when the captain was in one of his moods. Lately, Hook had been spending more and more time in his cabin, obsessing over maps of Neverland, his hatred for Peter Pan festering like a fever.

Smee knocked lightly. “Cap’n?”

There was a brief pause, followed by the sharp clink of metal. “Enter, Smee.”

Smee pushed the door open and stepped inside. The cabin was dimly lit by a single gas lantern, casting flickering shadows across the room. The air was thick with the smell of oil and coal, and the hiss of steam from Hook’s various gadgets provided a constant, eerie soundtrack.

Hook sat at his desk, his mechanical arm resting on the table in front of him, its intricate gears gleaming in the faint light. His eyes were fixed on the map spread out before him, his good hand tracing the jagged lines of Neverland’s coast. The tension in his jaw and the furrow in his brow told Smee everything he needed to know—Hook was deep in his obsession again.

“Peter Pan,” Hook muttered darkly, his voice barely audible. “That insufferable boy.”

Smee cleared his throat softly, not wanting to disturb the captain more than necessary. “Cap’n, the crew’s been askin’ about our next move.”

Hook didn’t look up, his focus still on the map. “Next move, Smee?” His voice was sharp, almost mocking. “The next move is what it’s always been: destroy Peter Pan.”

He jabbed his mechanical finger into the map, tapping the spot where he believed Peter’s hideout to be. The map itself was a mess of lines and circles—places Hook had scoured, traps he had set, all in vain. His obsession had driven him to the brink, searching for anything that could give him the upper hand.

“But cap’n,” Smee ventured carefully, “the men... they’re restless. And while we was scoutin’ the shoreline today, we spotted somethin’... odd.”

This got Hook’s attention. His eyes snapped up, narrowing as they fixed on Smee. “Odd? What do you mean, odd?”

Smee shifted nervously, wringing his hands. “It was a ship, sir. Not like ours, though. Smaller. Floating in the trees. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

Hook’s expression darkened as he leaned forward. “A ship, you say? In the trees?”

Smee nodded quickly. “Aye, sir. We didn’t get too close, but it’s no pirate ship, that’s for sure. Looked more like one of them flying contraptions. And... well, there were children aboard.”

Hook’s eyes flashed. “Children?”

“Yes, Cap’n,” Smee replied, glancing nervously at the mechanical arm. “The Darlings, I think they’re called. The ones Peter brought to Neverland.”

Hook’s face slowly twisted into a smile, a cold, calculating smile that made the hairs on the back of Smee’s neck stand up. “The Darlings...” he whispered, as if testing the words. “Peter has brought new playthings to his precious island.”

Smee hesitated. “Aye, sir. They were with him. Looked like they’d crash-landed.”

For a moment, Hook said nothing, his mind clearly racing. Then he leaned back in his chair, his mechanical arm whirring softly as it adjusted. “So... Peter has brought more children into Neverland,” he said slowly, a dark satisfaction creeping into his voice. “That changes everything.”

Smee blinked, confused. “Changes everything, Cap’n?”

Hook’s smile widened, the twisted grin of a man who had just found his opening. “Yes, Smee. The Darlings are Peter’s weakness. He’ll protect them... and that will be his downfall.”

Smee shifted uneasily on his feet. He had seen Hook like this before—focused, dangerous, his mind latching onto a new plan. “What’s the plan, then, Cap’n?”

Hook rose from his chair, his mechanical arm clicking into place as he strode toward the window, staring out at the dark waters beyond. “We will exploit his weakness, Smee. The Darlings will be the key to drawing Peter out.”

Smee swallowed hard. “So... we go after the children, Cap’n?”

Hook turned, his gaze icy and determined. “Prepare the crew, Smee. We sail at dawn. Peter Pan will regret bringing those children here. He’ll pay for his mistakes, and I’ll be waiting.”

Smee’s eyes widened, and though a part of him wanted to object, he knew better. Hook’s mind was made up. “Aye, Cap’n,” he said quietly, before hurrying out of the cabin to carry out the orders.

As the door closed behind him, Hook stood in silence, staring out at the sea, his mind already turning over the details of his plan. The Darlings were the key. This time, Peter Pan would not escape.