Even the Best Laid Plans of Ensigns Often Go Astray?

Posted on Sun Sep 6th, 2020 @ 7:42pm by Lieutenant JG Miraj Derani & Captain Gary Taylor

Mission: Season 3: Episode 4: Cause and Effect
Location: Hever Castle
Timeline: MD9 13h00
2117 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure

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Miraj was a little bored. She'd hoped 1664 would be more exciting, except she was stuck in a cellar performing the last rites for a permanently becalmed ship. When it became obvious that not even Gallia's genius could get the Miranda flying again, the only option was to beam it out in segments.  But before that could be done, the shuttle had to be rendered safe, or it could just explode when the EPS was cut, or the engine dematerialised around the antimatter.

There was a hose rigged up to the small fireplace and the EPS was now venting plasma up it.  And the antimatter, the part a matter transporter couldn't transport, would need to be carefully drained off in microscopic bursts that wouldn't cause any explosions. 

The containment unit was already handling the controlled escape, and the air around it glowed warm with heat.   Gallia had done the hard work.  All Miraj had to do was just wait for it all to finish, disconnect the hose, and throw it and the AMCU back in the shuttle to be beamed out with the rest of it.

Elysium called and asked for an ETA, and she'd checked the gauges. Probably only thirty minutes now, and she'd said so. She had thirty minutes left to herself.

She went exploring. Hever Castle was something a bit like a fairy tale, all carved wooden panelling, minstrel galleries and huge stone fireplaces carved with vines and coats of arms, and whilst the windows were glazed, they were all gothic arches, barely more than arrow slits. She could imagine an army of knights and archers laying siege to this place, never able to make a lucky hit, or ford the moat that now sat mirror still.

Sheer morbid curiosity drove her into Westin's rooms, wondering if there was anything there that Arianna might have missed. She poked inside the jewelry box, but it held only a few rings and a couple of pins. The chests were filled with expensive clothes and not much else.

Sighing she dropped onto the massive fourposter bed that dominated the room, and stared up at the carved canopy. Next year, she knew, the Dutch would said a fleet up the channel and sack Lowestoft. And Henry Morgan would return to Jamaica laden with treasure taken from ships and settlements around the Spanish Main. He would still be a young man, at least by 24th century standards. Only twenty nine.

She sighed again at the unfairness of it all. Back in history, but still fifty years off Blackbeard, Vane, Black Sam Bellamy and Rackham. And on the wrong side of the world to boot. Her luck had a sick sense of humor

Three heavy slams echoed up through the halls. Then the postern gate bells began jangling manically.

Miraj sat straight up with shock. "Shit!" Who could that be? No one was supposed to be here. Lieutenant Carlyle had sent the servants away. Could she pretend no one was home? She thought of the EPS venting. Anyone looking at the chimney would think there was one hell of a blaze below. They'd know someone was here. She'd have to spin a yarn. "Sink me. Why me?"

She gathered up all her skirts and ran for the castle's main door. The fabric seemed to go on forever. She knew she played the cabin boy in her holonovels for a reason. She got to the door to pull the bolts just as the hammering increased. Were they going to knock it down?

"About time you opened the door!" A bearded soldier remarked, one hand on the hilt of his sword. With the other he waved his arm for the rest soldiers to fan out. He looked around the place. "Right, lets go Lady Carlyle. Who else is here with you?" He demanded and without giving her a chance to reply, he continued on. "The king wants a word with you and your involvement with the Spanish. Come along peacefully and we won't have to put you in chains."

Lady Carlysle? The Spanish? In chains? She stared at the men in front of her, and noticed the badge on the mens coats.The Kings coat of arms. Oh, hells bells. This was bad. She was going to have to try and bluff. She took a step back, "Do I look like a lady?" Her clothes were fine wool, but plain. Not the silken fripperies of nobility. "Do I sound like a lady?" She realised she sounded nothing like the villanous British officers in her holodeck adventures. Hopefully they wouldn't ask who she did sound like. One last indignant protest. "Milady isn't here!"

The soldier in charge wasn't buying it. "Come now Lady Carlyle, protesting doesn't become you. However since you wish to make this hard." He waved a burly soldier forward. He was carrying heavy five chains meant to fasten around her wrists and ankles. "Now be a good lady and come along and we won't have to place you in chains. It will go better for you if you do." Another soldier spoke up, throwing a note of doubt out, "Maybe she isn't the Lady Carlyle. Look at her clothes." He pointed out.

The bearded soldier looked at the one who spoke. "Now, now young Cromwell, lets not get ahead of ourselves. The Lord Protector said the Lady Carlyle was here and here she is."

Miraj looked at the manacles and swallowed. This was not going well. She took another step back, away from the soldier with chains. "Milady went to London." She protested. "Went up this morning to talk her brother." A growing well of panic suggested she should go on the offensive. "And if you can't tell the difference between me and a lady, you're stupid as well as deaf and blind."

Another soldier laughed at her protest. "She is a feisty one. Not what I would expect of a lady. She doesn't sound like a lady. She knows of the Lord Protector." He pointed out. "Enough!" The soldier in charge spoke. He eyed Miraj at what he said next. "What's your name girl?"

She tried not to breathe a sigh of relief that might make them more suspicious. Maybe she could pull this off. "Anne Bonney," the name of the infamous female pirate came easily. She added a small curtsey, "Sir."

"Ann Bonney is it? You have manners I'll give you that. How is it you are in this castle by yourself Miss Bonney?" The lead soldier asked. His eyes never leaving her face.

Miraj's brain whirled. What had Lieutenant Carlysle said. "The mistress often gives them leave when she and - " What had the soldiers said. That she knew of - "The Lord Protector... go to London." That sounded plausible. "And she left this morning." So go away. Please.

The lead soldier eyed her. He wasn't entirely convinced and his body language showed that. "Lads." He said to the others. "I'm not entirely convinced. I think we should bring here in and let his majesty and the Lord Protector sort this out."

"Are you daft?" The one called Cromwell questioned. "Look at her! She knows what is going on. She must be a servant. How else would she have gotten inside? Come on lets just go."

"I don't know......"

It would be one way to get Westin. She put her hands into her pockets, feeling the edges of her communicator. She could open a channel to Elysium and the moment they took her to Westin it would be two to beam up. But there was no guarantee he would see her. He could just have her sent to the Tower or put in a gibbet at East India Docks like pirates of old. Which was actually right now. Best to stay put. "I'm not going anywhere." She insisted. "I'm Lady Carlyles maid, and I have her wardrobe to reorganize for when she returns."

Her stubbornness had the soldiers uneasy and it was clear they did not want to risk the wrath of the King or the Lord Protector by hauling in a maid. Then their heads would ready for the Royal Executioner. The leader spoke, "Alright Miss Ann Bonney, we're going to take you at your word. But if I find out you lied, there will be no place you can hide." He said by way of a threat.

Relief flooded her. Good luck finding her eight hundred years from now. "Thank you, sir." She looked pointedly at the gate behind them.

"We will let you get back to reorganizing Lady Carlyle's wardrobe though I don't she will have further use of it." The leader said. "Alright lads, lets go," As the soldiers started out, he turned back to here. "What are you burning?" Can see the smoke for miles."

Miraj froze. She wasn't expecting the question. What would burn in the sixteen hundreds that would burn so fiercely? She had no idea. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind "Lady Carlyles Wardrobe."

"W..H..A..T?" The leader asked. You could almost hear the individual letters coming out. "What did you? I thought you said you were reorganizing the Ladyships wardrobe?" He was now highly suspicious. "Place her in chains we'll take her to the Lord Procter. He can deal with her."

Miraj bolted. She didn't have a plan, or even part of a plan. But there was five of them and she wouldn't be able to fight off even one. She just had to out run them. They all had those steel breast plates. But she was in all those ridiculous skirts. If she was lucky she could get to the door to the long gallery and lock the door.

She bolting took the soldiers by surprise as they all stood open mouth, gawking as she made her break. Miraj was quick but not quick enough. They turned to chase her en masse as she ran for the door. A hand snaked out in desperation and managed to grab a slender ankle. Not enough to hold her but just enough to throw her off balance, As she tumbled to the floor, they pounced.

Miraj hit the stones of the courtyard with a jolt that rattled her bones, rolling to her back, the grit stinging at her hands and face. Before she could scramble up, the first was on her. She lashed out, kicking for his groin, but her skirts took all its force and momentum and she barely made contact. Two more lunged for her to pin her down.

She fought as best she could, gouging red lines into the face of the first with her nails before he got a grip on her. The second managed to pin her wrist to the courtyard floor. She wrenched herself free of the first, rolled as best she could and sank her teeth into his wrist with everything she had.

The soldiers scrambled around her, trying to get a hold of an arm or a leg but Miraj was a hellcat in skirts as she bit and kicked at the soldiers. However the soldiers numbers finally wore her down. The one she bit screamed. "By all that's holy! She's got the devil in her!" As he clutched his bleeding wrist with blood slowly seeping between his fingers.

"Come on lads. She's one little girl. Get the chains on her." The lead soldier said.... from a safe distance as he watched the other four wrestle with the girl. Arms and legs moving, kicking out in all directions.

She'd had surprise on her side at first, but the soldiers quickly overpowered her. One sat on her legs and the other knelt on her fore arms, and she could do nothing more effective than squirm as the others wrestled the manacles into place.

The sound of the first clanging shut around her ankle was terrifying, "No!" The other went on despite her attempts to kick its holder in the face. She couldn't shift them, "Get off me you, scut-sucking bilge rats!" But it was too late. Half a heartbeat after, they had the irons around her wrists and that was that.

They laughed at her. Mocking her anger and desperation. "Definitely not a lady talking like that but she may know where the Lady Carlyle is. We'll take her to see the Lord Protector. Get her to her feet lads and into the wagon. We have a journey ahead of us." The lead soldier spoke as he checked her manacles and was satisfied Miraj couldn't slip out of them. "Now Ann Bonney. We'll let the Lord Protector have a talk with you."

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