In the Queen's Service

[LancerZero]

The M26 was made to haul captured escape pods and small amounts of loot away from a battle...it was never intended to hold a conscious crew captive in the hold, and tow a war prize with greater mass than the M26 itself. The situation was placing enormous strain on the ship, and it could only just plod ahead at impulse speed. Add to that the fact that it had to steer wide of trade lanes and jump gates, and what should have been a quick and easy trip became an arduous journey.

However, to the Corsairs' credit, they had not been unduly cruel to their Bretonian captives. They hadn't been allowed to keep their uniforms, of course, but at least the bright orange jumpsuits they'd been given - to increase their visibility should they try to escape - were...festive? The coarse fabric was uncomfortable, but clean. The wounded were treated; not well, but treated nonetheless, and bandaged. The area in which they were being held was a makeshift prison, formed out of excess metal bulkheads arranged in a rough triangle in the cargo hold of the Aegis.

Luckily for Martin and his crew, the Aegis' best welder was on sick leave back on Crete. They'd been sure to be very discrete in doing so, but they had managed to discover that one of the corners was particularly weak. A few good shoves or kicks by a few determined, able-bodied individuals would likely break through. It would've been suspicious for them to not have tried to find a way to escape, however, and so Martin had once led an effort to dislodge one of the sturdier welds, to take attention away from the weak one. It had worked; the strong weld held, and the Corsairs relaxed a bit.

The rest of their time was filled with exercise, or long discussions engineered to annoy the guards.

"Hey, Wren?"

"Yeah?"

"You never did tell me what your favorite type of tea was."

"Well, you never asked, sir."

"C'mon, man! I have to stock the cupboards, and to do that, I have to know what my crew likes. So, do you favor tea with a tang, or the sort that goes best with a crumbcake?"

"Oooh...crumbcakes're the best, sir."

"No, no...you haven't lived until you've eaten at MacGuffin's Truffles."

"Oh! That place on...on...what's the street?"

"32nd?"

"No...oh! Ocean and 8th, right?"

"Yeah, that's the place! Right next to that cafe with the splendid dinner rolls."

"That's the one. Mmm, their cherry cordials are simply to die for. Say, when you attended the Academy, did they make you press your uniform to within two millimeters?"

"Aye. Harsh, that. One time, it took me all morning to get it right!"

"I say, they're much easier on recruits now...the tolerance is five millimeters! FIVE!"

"No! You're joking!"

"'Fraid not. I'm quite serious."

Of course, discussing luxurious foods and the onerous formalities of being in a house military was not the way to get on any Corsair's good side. They started taking bets on how long before the guard would yell at them to shut up. The navigation officer, at Martin's request, rarely said anything. Instead, he was committing the guards' patterns to memory. This one is right-handed, and always holsters his gun sloppily. Probably isn't quick to draw. That one limps and doesn't move his arm very much; probably bothered by an old injury, and can be taken advantage of in close quarters. He quietly confided his observations to the Lieutenant Commander and the others late at night, when the guard was sleeping, under the guise of a word game.

Judging from the expressions of the crew when they bring us our food, we're being well-fed; and honestly, I don't suppose I can complain terribly much about our treatment. I'll have to thank Zavier...after we steal back my ship!

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Current Stories
Linus' Lackadaisical Logs(upd.3-1-10)
Archived Logs
In the Queen's Service(upd.4-21-10) | The Finer Things in Life (upd.4-8-10)
Silvy's Story(upd.2-29-08) | Conrad's Flight & Fight(upd.1-14-08)