[drabble 3x] Pirates
I know, I know. I'm a drabble purist. One hundred words, no more no less. Well, sometimes, a story wants more. So this is a 300 word story in three parts. It is not a true drabble. Written for dr_p_venkman on the anniversary of his natal day. He wanted "Pirates".
I.
Four bells into mids, fifteen angels over Mare Icarus, I heard a skittering thud overhead, followed by the distinctive ringing clank of a grappling hook setting its teeth in my deck. My brand new teak deck.
The blunderbuss was in my hand and under Travis's chin before he got his legs under him.
"You never call, you never write."
"Get. Off. My. Ship."
"Aw, sweetheart..."
Funny how the hum of a plasma charge reaching full power can shut a man up. "Let me explain. My aces over eights. My title. My ship."
"Wednesday, baby. Just want to talk. Business."
~~~
II.
Barking Mad Wednesday was the most beautiful cutthroat I had ever had the joy of being swindled by. Before I met her, I held the most lucrative trading contracts in the whole of six moons.
Now, well, let's just say I've had to get creative.
"This is just one ship, your ship." I held my palms up. "But you need me. I have contacts."
"Your sister is harbour master. Your cousin plays piano in a brothel. And you are banned from every bar and tavern from here to Daedalus."
"Yes, but I also have the keys to the Governor's warehouse."
~~~
III.
He was a lousy card player and a poxy bastard, but he knew exactly what kind tune to play to make me sit up and sing. "Eighty twenty."
"Fifty fifty."
"Seventy thirty."
"Fifty fifty."
"Sixty forty and all salvage rights. And that's final."
"Deal. But I keep the keys."
"These keys?" I spun them around my forefinger and gave him a saucy wink.
"Fine, you keep the keys. But I know where the gold is hidden. And the art."
"Gold is easier to fence."
"Yes, but you like art."
"Travis, you're an idiot."
"And yet, you love me anyway."
I.
Four bells into mids, fifteen angels over Mare Icarus, I heard a skittering thud overhead, followed by the distinctive ringing clank of a grappling hook setting its teeth in my deck. My brand new teak deck.
The blunderbuss was in my hand and under Travis's chin before he got his legs under him.
"You never call, you never write."
"Get. Off. My. Ship."
"Aw, sweetheart..."
Funny how the hum of a plasma charge reaching full power can shut a man up. "Let me explain. My aces over eights. My title. My ship."
"Wednesday, baby. Just want to talk. Business."
~~~
II.
Barking Mad Wednesday was the most beautiful cutthroat I had ever had the joy of being swindled by. Before I met her, I held the most lucrative trading contracts in the whole of six moons.
Now, well, let's just say I've had to get creative.
"This is just one ship, your ship." I held my palms up. "But you need me. I have contacts."
"Your sister is harbour master. Your cousin plays piano in a brothel. And you are banned from every bar and tavern from here to Daedalus."
"Yes, but I also have the keys to the Governor's warehouse."
~~~
III.
He was a lousy card player and a poxy bastard, but he knew exactly what kind tune to play to make me sit up and sing. "Eighty twenty."
"Fifty fifty."
"Seventy thirty."
"Fifty fifty."
"Sixty forty and all salvage rights. And that's final."
"Deal. But I keep the keys."
"These keys?" I spun them around my forefinger and gave him a saucy wink.
"Fine, you keep the keys. But I know where the gold is hidden. And the art."
"Gold is easier to fence."
"Yes, but you like art."
"Travis, you're an idiot."
"And yet, you love me anyway."