In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day!
A particularly piratey snippet from Nemesis:
She should have noticed sooner. It was a measure of how shaken she was that it didn’t register. Standing in the bedroom, dressed but still barefoot, and glaring at the rumpled bed as if it were to blame for all her problems, it finally hit her. And then she was out the door and halfway down the corridor, mundane things like footwear and rumpled bedcovers forgotten.
Mercy ignored the looks from men as she passed, ignored their smiles and talk, though a few made her wish she still had her sidearm. Fortunately, the blocks she’d tried so hard to learn the night before seemed to be functioning relatively well this morning; she was reasonably sure hearing what they were thinking would only piss her off.
She got turned around once, and irritated, wished she could just access her implant for a proper layout. Wait. Why couldn’t she? Nemesis was still a Monarch class vessel. Surely military records would have something on her, just as they did on the Typhus and hundreds of other ships.
She checked.
Well, that makes finding my way around a great deal easier. It also made getting to Cannon’s office much quicker.
Outside his door she stopped, nonplussed. Should she knock? Or just…it slid open before she could decide, and his voice floated out to her.
“Come in, Mercy.”
She did, and the door slid shut again behind her. He looked as though he’d just stumbled out of bed, sleepy and rather appealingly rumpled as he slumped in the chair behind his desk. Stop that, she told herself firmly. He’s your cousin. Maybe. He held a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the rich scent hitting her like a slap in the face.
“You have coffee? Real coffee?”
He was the Captain, she supposed, but even Captain Hades didn’t stock real coffee in his personal supply. The stuff was expensive as hell, and hard to get anywhere but a handful of worlds where the crops had actually taken, and flourished.
Then she stopped herself. Goddamnit, she wasn’t here about coffee. But Cannon was already replying.
“One of the perks of piracy,” he said. He nodded, and she saw the second cup sitting across his desk, steam rising from it. “I took the liberty of pouring you a cup, but I’m afraid it’s black. I didn’t know how you take it.”
She crossed her arms.
“Really.” Her tone was unmistakably dry. “You don’t. You knew I’d be here, but not how I like my coffee. Well, that’s the second biggest surprise I’ve had this morning.” Third, actually, but she had no plans of sharing that embarrassing tidbit with him, or anyone else. She placed her closed fists on his desk and leaned in, ignoring the steaming cup.
“We’re in jump space.”
“Ah.” He took a sip from his own mug. “We are, yes. We jumped a couple of hours ago.”
“I want the hell off this ship.”
Sighing, Cannon, set down his coffee.
“Mercy, you know that’s impossible. As you pointed out, we’re in jump space.”
“The Typhus?” she asked tightly.
“Jumping with us. We waited until repairs finished on her drive.”
Some of the tightness in her chest eased, but not much.
“Where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.”
She cursed, pushing away from the desk. When she went to run her fingers through her hair, she realized it was still wet from her shower, and tangled besides. Just as suddenly, she became aware of the cold deck beneath her bare toes. She closed her eyes.
“Damn it.”
“I know this is difficult.”
And opened them again, glaring at him.
“Do you? You’ve kidnapped me! Us! All of the Typhus and her crew.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes. But then, we’re pirates.”
She should have noticed sooner. It was a measure of how shaken she was that it didn’t register. Standing in the bedroom, dressed but still barefoot, and glaring at the rumpled bed as if it were to blame for all her problems, it finally hit her. And then she was out the door and halfway down the corridor, mundane things like footwear and rumpled bedcovers forgotten.
Mercy ignored the looks from men as she passed, ignored their smiles and talk, though a few made her wish she still had her sidearm. Fortunately, the blocks she’d tried so hard to learn the night before seemed to be functioning relatively well this morning; she was reasonably sure hearing what they were thinking would only piss her off.
She got turned around once, and irritated, wished she could just access her implant for a proper layout. Wait. Why couldn’t she? Nemesis was still a Monarch class vessel. Surely military records would have something on her, just as they did on the Typhus and hundreds of other ships.
She checked.
Well, that makes finding my way around a great deal easier. It also made getting to Cannon’s office much quicker.
Outside his door she stopped, nonplussed. Should she knock? Or just…it slid open before she could decide, and his voice floated out to her.
“Come in, Mercy.”
She did, and the door slid shut again behind her. He looked as though he’d just stumbled out of bed, sleepy and rather appealingly rumpled as he slumped in the chair behind his desk. Stop that, she told herself firmly. He’s your cousin. Maybe. He held a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the rich scent hitting her like a slap in the face.
“You have coffee? Real coffee?”
He was the Captain, she supposed, but even Captain Hades didn’t stock real coffee in his personal supply. The stuff was expensive as hell, and hard to get anywhere but a handful of worlds where the crops had actually taken, and flourished.
Then she stopped herself. Goddamnit, she wasn’t here about coffee. But Cannon was already replying.
“One of the perks of piracy,” he said. He nodded, and she saw the second cup sitting across his desk, steam rising from it. “I took the liberty of pouring you a cup, but I’m afraid it’s black. I didn’t know how you take it.”
She crossed her arms.
“Really.” Her tone was unmistakably dry. “You don’t. You knew I’d be here, but not how I like my coffee. Well, that’s the second biggest surprise I’ve had this morning.” Third, actually, but she had no plans of sharing that embarrassing tidbit with him, or anyone else. She placed her closed fists on his desk and leaned in, ignoring the steaming cup.
“We’re in jump space.”
“Ah.” He took a sip from his own mug. “We are, yes. We jumped a couple of hours ago.”
“I want the hell off this ship.”
Sighing, Cannon, set down his coffee.
“Mercy, you know that’s impossible. As you pointed out, we’re in jump space.”
“The Typhus?” she asked tightly.
“Jumping with us. We waited until repairs finished on her drive.”
Some of the tightness in her chest eased, but not much.
“Where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.”
She cursed, pushing away from the desk. When she went to run her fingers through her hair, she realized it was still wet from her shower, and tangled besides. Just as suddenly, she became aware of the cold deck beneath her bare toes. She closed her eyes.
“Damn it.”
“I know this is difficult.”
And opened them again, glaring at him.
“Do you? You’ve kidnapped me! Us! All of the Typhus and her crew.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes. But then, we’re pirates.”