Oceanus: The First Frontier- Chapter 5: Wolf in the Fold
Chapter 5- Wolf in the Fold
Disclaimer: Here we go for the hundredth time, hand grenade pins in every… I mean, these characters are not mine! And neither is the line I am spoofing… The characters are Paramount’s, the line is Linkin Park’s, and a nautical mythology is public domain or something akin to that.
Rating: K+ (May become M later).
Pairings: S/Mc, (implied) U/Sc, (implied) K/R, (one-sided) Ch/S and other m/f, including S/f and Mc/f, both implied and explicit.
((Author’s Note: A million thanks to Sandysoul aka, Inkysand! She’s a font of historical and nautical information which will, I hope, only help to improve the story! Some people may not notice the difference between historical fact and Fishey-me’s fiction, but like I told Sandysoul, making a change based on aesthetics is one thing, simply being wrong is another.))
Leonard heaved the grate up over his head and stomped down the stairs into the lower deck angrily, and in his frustration he accidentally let the grate fall while he was still under it, earning a lump on his head for his trouble. He walked down the dank hall swearing and rubbing his injured head. He couldn’t imagine a worse way to end the day. The halls were dark and grimy and smelled like mold, and if he was honest, his quarters were no better. It seemed the only place to catch a breath of fresh air was on the weather deck; a place he certainly would not be welcome on until he embraced Kirk and his miscreants not as captors, but as compatriots - brethren pirates.
They were bastards, the lot of them. He almost felt guilty for thinking such a thing about Miss Chapel, but he hardly knew what to think of her at all. She was a lady, but she willingly joined this crew. There was a story there, and Leonard almost wanted to know what it was. The worst of the lot, he decided, was Spock. Something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at him… it sent chills up his spine.
“Spirit without discipline?” Leonard spat into his cabin, “How in hell can there be any discipline on a ship of thieves?” There was no answer to his lament, and the silence filled the room. The room was not very big, but it was more than enough room for two men to bunk in. There was a small cabinet on the far wall underneath a wall sconce. Since the room was so far aft, it was fortunately graced with a window in the wall to Leonard’s left, letting in the setting sun’s light. Underneath the window there were hooks for one hammock, and hooks for another hammock were on the other wall. There was a space for him there, an innocuous void the crew needed to have filled- a space that had nothing to do with Scotty needing a bunkmate.
Leonard touched one of the hooks. It was cool and rough from long use. None of the hooks looked like they had been neglected. Someone else had used this cabin before him, probably with Scotty, if not some other crewman. As Leonard began to turn possible histories around in his head he heard loud steps thud into the deck and the grate slam shut in their wake. He rounded on the door to see Scotty tromping in, Leonard’s sword in one hand, two glass bottles sloshing with liquor in the other, and two beige cloths bundled neatly under his elbows.
“Ye left this on deck,” the Scot stated, tossing the weapon so that he could hold the blade instead of the handle and offering it to Leonard.
“You trust me with it?” The physician asked, reaching hesitantly for it.
“Aye, I’ve seen you use it.” Scotty smirked. “I donna have anythin’ to worry about.” Leonard frowned at that, prepared to rebuke the bos’un, but the large Scotsman just grinned amiably and proffered the two bottles. “Want some?”
Leonard’s stomach turned over and he waved a negating hand. “I think I’ve dealt with enough ale for the month, thank you.”
“Good, ‘cause this isna ale.” Scotty switched one of the bottles to his other hand and pulled its cork out with his teeth. “It’s rum, and the finest outta Jamaica that ye can buy. I keep it for special occasions- though not as special as the occasions I keep my scotch for!”
Leonard felt himself grinning despite himself. “Well, excuse my ignorance. How foolish of me to mix the two of them up!”
Scotty took as swig of his rum and waved the bottle for Leonard hurriedly. Leonard took the bottle and sheathed his sword. “Foolish indeed,” Scotty rasped as the rum burned down his throat. “Och, that’s good stuff.”
Leonard looked at his bottle but made no attempt to open it. “I don’t think I’m very thirsty.”
“That’s daft; ye were workin’ on the top deck most of the afternoon.”
“I guess I should rephrase: I don’t think I want to share a drink with you.” Leonard stated, not looking at the large man as he said it.
Scotty rolled his eyes, “Now look,” he said punching Leonard in the arm, “I know ye don’t like me, and I canna say I like ye much either, but it’s good rum and I reckon ye could use a drink.” Leonard eyed him warily, but didn’t move. “Well, drink up ye stupid bastard! I’m gonna take that back to my secret store if ye aren’t gonna have any! No sense in wastin’ it.” Scotty sounded more perturbed about the rum than he sounded angry at Leonard’s reticence. Leonard felt himself grinning again.
“Well, I guess one drink won’t kill me.”
Scotty’s face broke into a huge grin, “That’s the spirit, lad!” He laughed and smacked Len’s arm, nearly knocking the physician off balance. Leonard bit into his cork, wrenched it out of the bottle neck and spat it into his other hand. Scotty chuckled at that, too. “What’re ye savin’ it for, lad?”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be finishing the bottle tonight. I may need to cork it again.”
Scotty raised an eyebrow. “Ye’re a strange lad, mate.”
Leonard chuckled and took a swig of the rum. It was smooth and spicy and burned in his mouth, but it was nothing like the ale and more comforting than anything else he’d found on this ship. He savored it for a couple more swigs and Scotty just watched in silence, occasionally taking a sip of his own drink. Leonard cleared his throat when the silence grew too deafening.
“You were right; I did need the drink.”
“Aye.” Scotty put his bottle, now well past half empty, on the small cabinet and pulled one roll from under his armpit. “Here, let me show you how to tie up yer hammock.”
Leonard stepped aside. “How long have you had the cabin to yourself?”
“Och, about eight months now. I don’t mind the company, though. Usually if I’m in here, I’m asleep. I spend most of the day and night on the lines, so I willna bother ye too much, I hope.”
Leonard nodded and set his own bottle on the cabinet. “Who was your former cabin mate?”
Scotty walked to the window hooks and thread one end of the hammock around the hook and tied it securely. “Spock.”
“Spock? Why’d he move?”
“You saw that knot? You could say he got a promotion. Went from being bos’un’s mate to first mate in a bit of a fell swoop.”
Leonard nodded at the twist of rope and narrowed his eyes. “Why would that warrant him moving?”
“Well,” Scotty said, moving on to the other hook, “it just wouldna be proper, would it, for the first mate not to stay in his own cabin? It seems to suit Spock fairly well. He hated living below decks, and I always kept him up with my snoring anyway. Sensitive ears, those Vulcans have.”
Leonard chuckled. “There’s no such thing as Vulcans. I’ll grant you that Spock looks like the devil himself, but he’s no sea monster.”
“I didna say he was a sea monster.”
“But you said,”
“Aye, Vulcan’s have sensitive ears, but they aren’t sea monsters.” Scotty pulled the hammock taught and then pushed in its center, trying its strength.
“You’re mad.” Leonard said, shaking his head. “What really happened to him? Was he injured as a child?” Leonard thought, figuring that at least would explain the strange cant to his eyebrows.
“Are ye tryin’ to be dense or what? I told ya, he wasn’t hurt, he’s a Vulcan - a creature of the sea!”
“You are mad.” Leonard confirmed, “Either that or you’re playing a trick on the land-lubber.”
“He’ll tell ye if ye ask. He gets a bit touchy if ye ask to see his ears, but I figure he gets over it fairly quick.” Scotty scooped up his bottle again and gulped down a long draw.
“Vulcans are myths, just like merpeople and Atlantis. My daughter is being courted by a sailor, I’ve heard all the stories.”
Scotty’s eyes gleamed, “Aye, and if ye stay long enough, ye may see that all the stories are true.”
Leonard took a long draw from his bottle. “You mean if I live long enough.”
“Aye, you do fight fairly bad.” Scotty agreed. “Here, now you try.” He handed the physician his rolled-up hammock.
“Well, I’m a doctor, not a swashbuckler.” Leonard set his bottle on the counter and unrolled his hammock. “I don’t really believe that using a sword is the best way to handle every situation.”
“True enough. Tha’s why I prefer me pistol.”
Leonard shook his head. “That isn’t what I meant.” He looped the rope around one of the hooks, knotting it.
“For a peaceful man, you certainly know how to let your temper get away from ye. Here now,” Scotty said taking Leonard’s hammock from him, “If ye tie it like that, you’ll fall flat on the deck when ye lay in it.” He demonstrated by giving the rope a hard tug, slipping it loose. “Like this,” he demonstrated.
Leonard watched, crossing his arms. “If you had children, you’d understand.”
Scotty looked at the physician gently. “About that…”
“What?” Leonard snapped.
“I’m sorry, lad. About all this. But we need ya.”
For some reason hearing the man apologize made Leonard feel better. He may have been pressed into service on a pirate ship, but at least they weren’t remorseless devils. Devils maybe, but sympathetic ones.
Leonard shrugged. “So, I tie it like this?”