Hornblower alphabet soup Z is for Zeal
Z is for zeal AU, crossover, makes-sense-in-my-head-universe
“I thought Buckland would never let us go.”
“He didn’t in our case, Horatio. We had to exercise our right to disobey orders in a higher cause.”
“Tell them that at the court martial, Archie.” Horatio reached twenty feet across the room, deftly manoeuvring the defraglination device over the barrels of gunpowder and into his pocket. It felt good to be able to really exercise his muscles again, rather than always being confined to the shape he’d had at birth. There was no capacity on board Renown apart from some extra flexion of the fingers. Sawyer was paranoid enough without risking him seeing his third lieutenant with his head in the foretop while his feet were still on deck.
“William had better get us all out of here before it gets to a frakkin court martial.” Archie stood shotgun, keeping an eye out for any stray Spanish soldiers or, more importantly, shape-shifting aliens, the sort who’d make Sawyer look both sane and harmless. “Even if your frakkin pal Pellew presided over it I wouldn’t fancy our chances.” It was strange to hear Archie’s cultured tones using colourful words; something else which could only be indulged in off the ship. There’d been one occasion when he’d whacked his shin and used such language while on watch, but the foremast jacks had thought it no more than a minced oath, the sort of things toffs would say.
“The TARDIS is ready and waiting, as long as we can make it back to the Orlop. Although if Commodore Pellew really knew what was at stake here, he’d be suggesting you get the Order of the Garter and a silver plate dinner service.” Of course there was a lot at stake - the Doctor wouldn’t have gone half way round the universe and through time collecting his team if it hadn’t been vital to the future of mankind. The plasma neutralisation apparatus hadn’t been easy to get hold of, either; he’d gone all the way to twenty fifth century Mars and the offices of Wallace Industries. And even then he’d had to resort to robbery. “We’ve got fifteen minutes, gentlemen, I suggest we finish here and tackle the last store of proton accelerators.”
“And then what? The ship will be frakkin miles away and Buckland won’t send in a boat. He doesn’t appreciate our particular qualities.” Archie grinned.
“We’ll jump off the cliff and swim for it.” Horatio let the Doctor lead the way to their last target, well aware that lack of swimming skills weren’t something you could use your sonic screwdriver to cover up.
“Sod that.” It was a saying more William Bush than eighth doctor. “I thought you two were my friends. All for one and one for all.”
“Three Musketeers.” Horatio rolled his eyes, making a start at neutralising the accelerators.
“I thought more Legion of Super Heroes”
Archie looked at the streak of grey in Horatio’s hair, the wrinkles around William’s eyes. “More like Legion of Superannuated heroes …”
“I thought Buckland would never let us go.”
“He didn’t in our case, Horatio. We had to exercise our right to disobey orders in a higher cause.”
“Tell them that at the court martial, Archie.” Horatio reached twenty feet across the room, deftly manoeuvring the defraglination device over the barrels of gunpowder and into his pocket. It felt good to be able to really exercise his muscles again, rather than always being confined to the shape he’d had at birth. There was no capacity on board Renown apart from some extra flexion of the fingers. Sawyer was paranoid enough without risking him seeing his third lieutenant with his head in the foretop while his feet were still on deck.
“William had better get us all out of here before it gets to a frakkin court martial.” Archie stood shotgun, keeping an eye out for any stray Spanish soldiers or, more importantly, shape-shifting aliens, the sort who’d make Sawyer look both sane and harmless. “Even if your frakkin pal Pellew presided over it I wouldn’t fancy our chances.” It was strange to hear Archie’s cultured tones using colourful words; something else which could only be indulged in off the ship. There’d been one occasion when he’d whacked his shin and used such language while on watch, but the foremast jacks had thought it no more than a minced oath, the sort of things toffs would say.
“The TARDIS is ready and waiting, as long as we can make it back to the Orlop. Although if Commodore Pellew really knew what was at stake here, he’d be suggesting you get the Order of the Garter and a silver plate dinner service.” Of course there was a lot at stake - the Doctor wouldn’t have gone half way round the universe and through time collecting his team if it hadn’t been vital to the future of mankind. The plasma neutralisation apparatus hadn’t been easy to get hold of, either; he’d gone all the way to twenty fifth century Mars and the offices of Wallace Industries. And even then he’d had to resort to robbery. “We’ve got fifteen minutes, gentlemen, I suggest we finish here and tackle the last store of proton accelerators.”
“And then what? The ship will be frakkin miles away and Buckland won’t send in a boat. He doesn’t appreciate our particular qualities.” Archie grinned.
“We’ll jump off the cliff and swim for it.” Horatio let the Doctor lead the way to their last target, well aware that lack of swimming skills weren’t something you could use your sonic screwdriver to cover up.
“Sod that.” It was a saying more William Bush than eighth doctor. “I thought you two were my friends. All for one and one for all.”
“Three Musketeers.” Horatio rolled his eyes, making a start at neutralising the accelerators.
“I thought more Legion of Super Heroes”
Archie looked at the streak of grey in Horatio’s hair, the wrinkles around William’s eyes. “More like Legion of Superannuated heroes …”