"You....you're all Bucaneers..." The man had jumped up...yelling about...her anscestors. She'd come here looking at history two hundred years old, trying to discover who she was.
"How? How do you exist? You were wiped out...fled to crete!"
"Now, girl! One can't just wipe everything out, can one? They went to ground, for a time. We're coming from a gang off leeds." Morgan acted as though that explained things. It really didn't.
"And...what I want? You brought me here, Captian. What do you want?"
From the dark corner behind the lass that came in, where Thomas stood quietly.
"And...what I want? You brought me here, Captain. What do you want?" She had said.
Thomas smiled before speaking up. "Would answer the Cap'n's question lass. You'll have plenty of time to ask questions the moment this is over with."
He raised up his pistol and slide it back into the holster before returning to his seat and leaning back in the chair. He kept his eyes on the lass, rather, Corsair, who wandered about and right into the hands of the Buccaneers. He was content with his latest achievements, including bring home One hundred units of Tobacco, Fifty Units from his own ship, and another Fifty from Lucifer's.
Bucaneers began to mumble, twisting themselves into knots over her insolence, and Catalina began to lose her cool. Men were looking at her, and her cheeks, her neck, and her chest were warming up, turning red. She was making a scene, and she decided that it would be her scene.
They'd grabbed her off the streets, hauled her here at gunpoint, asked all sorts of senseless questions of her, for what? Because she'd encountered one of their fighters in space, and had the professional curtesy to not leave it a smoking ruin. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. She was not going to let them push her around.
"I want a chance. A chance not to be my brother's sister, a chance...I'm a pirate, sir. Corsair, by way of Nelson Blys, a Bucaneer, flew for the Rogues for a while. I've shot down LSF, I've been chased out of Kusari by Dragons, I've hauled artifacts all the way down to Manhattan's surface. I've tangled with hessians, with coaltion, with Mollies and BAF. I'm a damn good pilot, and I'm completely lost. Maybe I'd just like a chance to get back to my roots. Sir."
"Honestly sir, I'm a pilot, and a damn good one. You'd be lucky to have me, and damn stupid to let me go."
Captain Morgan was impressed with this one, that was for sure. Not many would face this situation and remain defiant.
"Well, so you want a chance to prospect for the Buccaneers? I think that can be arranged. Remember, though, if I think for a second that you'll betray us, we'll toss you out of the nearest airlock without hesitation. Excuse me for a moment..."
Another Buccaneer walked up to Captain Morgan and handed him a credit chip. He looked at the figure on it, and back at the Buccaneer.
"That's all you got for it? Nevermind... It'll do."
As the Buccaneer left, Captain Morgan pocketed the credit chip and returned his attention to Catalina.
"As of right now, you're our newest prospect. Your past with the Corsairs is over. You're loyal to us now. First, though, you'll need a ship..."
Catalina opened her mouth to explain that she already had a ship, then suddenly realized what the Captain's credit chip was for.
Catalina Blys had, after her most recent action, her left leg in a cast. Shrapnel during an ejection. She'd slapped her boot over it, and stumbled into the Bucaneer's Bay from the med bay. Easing her leg out into the asile, she tossed a chit at the barkeep, buying the round.
"To Thomas! Who Took out, near singlehandedly, not a duo, not a trio, but an Entire Quartet! of Rogue Bombers, come to..what? Steal our hunting grounds? Hell no! We are Bucaneers!" She tossed back her head, and downed a gulp of whatever...horrid...grog the medicant had arranged for her ration...
"Thomas Anderson, I, for one, certianly owe you my life!"
Then, of course, she blanched, as the grog hit her stomack.
"And can someone get me a decent drink?"
Thomas walked in shortly after Catalina. Noticing everyone was staring at him. After what Catalina had said.
"What? I was bloody bored." He said with a cocky smile. "Owe my bloody life to those Armed Forces lads that shown up. If they haven't, I would still be bloody fightin'." His smile went away shortly after.
"Four bloody bombers. Rogue and Outcasts. Should have paid the bloody fee, that lad should have. Though I found it amusing the Bounty Hunter took out one of the bombers quickly. Rather..quickly, three seconds, it seemed. Sadly however, it would have been three more marks on the hull of my Sabre, but one of them decided t' flee. I'll get him the next bloody time I see him in Leeds."
He walked past Catalina and shook his head. "Round of drinks on me! As I owe the Cap'n something aswell!"
Lucifer was at the bar again, today, sipping a glass of brandy. He was chatting lightly with the bartender, remarking on his latest "acquisitions". He had apparently gotten ahold of some slaves.
"You see, this poor woman had just dealt with a slaver, and thje unfortunate whelps were floating there in pods, with her unable to do anything to help. I offered my... services. She accepted, and I hauled as many of them as I could lay hands on back to Trafalgar. Of course, I offered some of them them a chance at freedom among us. Some accepted... some didn't. I sent about one hundred of them out among the men on Leeds. We'll see how well they do on the ground. The rest, well... the Junkers are not discriminating buyers."
Lucifer laughed, and gave a wink to the bartender. "Of course, I kept two for my wife. Big strapping Corsair fellows. They should last a while," he said, grinning like the devil himself.
After fifteen minutes of crawling and crouching through the dark maze Almando encountered the door which said "Buccaneers only". He had almost forgotten the entrance code but after three desperate tries the door slid open. Relieved that he could finally refresh himself with a visit to the bar he was only met with a second obstacle. This time a larger and more frightening obstacle.
"Umm... s-senor, could you m-m-move?" Observing the colossal being that looked like a cross between man and machine, Almando had gone in a state of panic.
"Depends on who you are, lad." John Morris, the security guard was restraining himself from laughing.
"Well, well, well."
"Well what? Stop stuttering kid."
"Almando Mixel, Senor, I'm Almando Mixel."
"Ah, the Hispanic newcomer. Well I shall call you kiddo because you are acting like one, haha."
"Umm... Si, alright "kiddo", can I enter now?"
"Of course, kiddo! Heh, seems The Buccaneers have gone a little soft on the recruiting it seems." John mumbled for himself.
"G-g-gracias."
"Have a g-g-g-good day, kiddo!" John responded with a sarcastic tone.
Almando quickly rushed away from John, frightened to no ends, he had never seen a human like this one, if he even was one. By now he had reached the Buccaneers Bar and quickly strolled towards the nearest empty chair.
"Senor bartender! Hit me with something that will make me drowsy for the next couple of hours. Gracias!" Almando shouted to the bartender, just like he did when he was at Nelson's.
"Here ya go lad." Charles Johnson, manager of most things, responded with sharp voice and handed over a mug which contained mixture of all kinds of liquor.
Almando observed the surroundings, tried to identify any Buccaneers he had recently engaged piracy with. "Senor bartender, who is she?" Almando said and pointed at Catalina.
"Taking a liking eh? They say she came here looking for her ancestors or whatnot, I didn't really pay attention but somehow she ended up flying with us. Former Corsair woman it seems."
Almando's eyes widened. "A Corsair?!" He screamed out so the whole bar went silent, and turned their heads towards him...
Sitting at the Back of the bar at a lonely desk Mark Dixon hit his head on the desk
"Oh dear, this could mean some trouble..." he mumbled to himself. OI BARTENDER! Bring me another beer he shouted at the bartender. After his order he quickly turned at Almando and cast a very scary look at him Get over here "Kiddo" as he motioned for Almando to sit down at the table, just as the bartender arrived with some more beer....
"He must mean me." Almando mumbled and lifted himself up from the chair and walked towards Mark. On the way he kept his focus towards Catalina with a hateful expression on his face. "Hijo de puta..." Almando quietly said.
He fell down heavy on the chair opposite to Mark and said: What is that you want, senor?