Swamped

"Just how big are these bugs?" you ask.

"Tiny. Smaller'n your fingernail, even full-grown. But there's a lot of'em," Cookie says. "Still, since they're so small that means the powder goes further. That bucket oughta be enough even if they've covered every inch of the room."

You don't know if you want to imagine that. Well, at least you won't have to deal with big bugs, you suppose.

"Okay, I guess I know enough," you say. "All right, I'll take care of it right away."

You head off, with Rebecca a few steps behind. She soon gets ahead of you, which is fair enough - it's her quarters, after all. But as you walk, you find yourself worrying about something.

"So, hang on. You've got important government papers and stuff in your room, right? And I bet you don't want me peeking at them."

"Most of the sensitive information is outdated by now. We're six months away from shore, after all," she replies. "Anything that might not be, I keep in a safe place. It should even be safe from this infestation, though if I'm wrong on that, I'll deal with it myself."

Well, that's one less thing to worry about, you suppose. You keep following her up through the decks. A few sailors give you both unplreasant glances, but they all seem to be preoccupied.

"Here we are," she finally says, stopping outside an ornate door. "I'd appreciate it if you went in first."

Yeah, of course she would. Then you can clean up the floor so she doesn't get her feet dirty, right?

But as soon as she pulls the door open, you see something very odd, aside from the huge swarm of bugs you were already expecting.