Pirate Games, Part I of IV

Posted on Mon Mar 8th, 2021 @ 12:56am by Lieutenant JG Miraj Derani & Lieutenant Commander S'hib & Captain George Charles [Reece]

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: USS Elysium Holodeck
Timeline: Guided by Starlight MD 16 2000
2023 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

Miraj had decided that if she was going to be doing a pirate battle with two actual real warriors, she wasn't going to embarrass herself with her lack of sword play, and besides, it would strain the program if it had to account for people who knew what they were doing and someone with the capacity of a play fighting four year old. So she decided to play as Roger again, rather than Bloodbeard himself.

It meant she had to forgo the fancy hat, but she'd live. And the cabin boy's costume was easy enough to get on once she had bound her breasts down. Stockings and britches and shirt, waistcoat and jacket. They were all thin, worn linen, surprisingly cool considering the many layers it offered. With neckerchief tied, and buckle shoes on, she decided she was properly dressed for the early 18th century, and headed off to holodeck to meet George and S'hib.

The holodeck was empty, and she was first to arrive, so she summoned up the cabin of Bloodbeard's ship, the Hades, made sure the costume and accessories chest was loaded with stuff in the other's sizes, and waited.

After doing some research, George found an era appropriate costume that he felt would do for him. After replicating everything, he began the process of donning the many layers. First were the linen breeches, followed by a billowy shirt, faded plum in color. He tied the strings over his chest, though, not too tightly. He wanted to have freedom of movement. The idea of Miraj seeing his built torso didn't offend him either. He had definitely felt an attraction between them, even without his Betazoid abilities. He certainly was not opposed to seeing how things went with the gorgeous pilot.

Once he had the shirt on, he slid into the tan linen pants. Secired them at the waist, then socks and brown leather swashbuckling boots, which went up to the bottom of his knees. After tucking his pants into the boots, he stood up and looked at himself in the full length mirror in his room. Sometimes, he would laugh to himself about just how much clothing the humans wore in their past. He was his most comfortable in the nude, as was custom back on Betazed, or so he had been told.

Suddenly thinking about his and his sister's childhood, the demon inside of him, as he called it, began to well up. He started to pace back and forth, like a caged lion. As he passed his desk, he snatched up the paperweight, a model of a Valkyrie Starfighter, and hurled it at the far bulkhead. As it hit the bulkhead, it exploded into a dozen pieces, and George screamed a primal yell of pain and anguish.

Collapsing to the deck, he felt exhausted. He curled up into a ball and began to weep, not caring about anything, but to make the pain go away.

About a half hour later, his desk comm chimed. At first, he ignored it, wallowing in his pain. Then, it chimed again, this time the computer announced that the message had come from Miraj. Hearing her name finally broke through. Slowly, he got to his feet. After straightening out his costume, he finished getting dressed. Was he was fully attired, he looked at himself one last time. Satisfied that Miraj might like what she saw, he headed out to the holodeck.

Staring at himself in the reflective black LCARs panel inside the lift, S’hib wondered if his outfit would be ok, the striking deep blue overcoat with its gold and white trims hugging his lean frame elegantly despite missing an arm, tattered thread entwining amongst his white body hair, a souvenir of sorts for his pirate persona, a stolen captains uniform from the royal navy.

“Thats better...” He said quietly as he finished rolling up the other sleeve as the door opened.

Turning on a single hoof he marched out towards the holodeck, clutching a sabre at its hilt that hung loosely from his dark brown breeches.

His overcoat flared out wildly as he turned a corner and hurried himself along, exposing even more of his broad chest and curved hips, his clearly masculine frame unabashed with feminine qualities.

“Wait... who's that?” He mumbled to himself out loud as he watched the tail end of someone far taller than Miraj enter the holodeck in a rather appropriate outfit.

“Who the red dunes is that...” He snorted, his hooves clicking loudly as he began to thump quickly towards the holodeck.

Entering the holodeck, George entered an old sailing vessel, the kind he had seen in history books which detailed the romanticized era of sail on Earth of half a millennia ago. Looking around, he saw no movement in his immediate area, but, heard plenty above decks. “Miraj?” He called out.

She popped up from behind a large sea chest. "Hi!" She cast an eye over his costume. It was close to period, even if not right on, but more importantly it screamed effort, "Oh, good outfit. Its-" not done up properly a little part of her pointed out, and she coud feel herself blsuhing again, and threw open the chest to hide behind. "Do you need weapons. I've got pistols, muskets, cutlesses, rapier. We're going to be taking down a Spanish merchant ship, so we don't want to sink it, so we;ll be boarding as fast as we can, and trying to intimidate them all into surrendering. Should be easy. Nice fat merchants, and underpaid sailors. So. What do you fancy?"

George felt an odd mixture of emotion radiate from Miraj. He was about to say something when he felt an even stronger flood of emotion. Annoyance and confusion. "Miraj," George asked, "was someone else coming, but not know that I was?" Just as he finished asking the question, the holodeck doors slid apart, and a being that George had never seen before stormed in.

His eyes burrowed deep into the man as he hunched over inside the antiquated room, his equine eyes never leaving his face. "Miraj, who is this." He snorted as a swath of primal emotions surged and his heart quickened, unaware that George was able to read what would have no doubt been a very confusing display of truly Sequellian emotion.

Miraj saw S'hib, and the smile she gave him lit the whole room. "S'hib, this is George. He wanted to play too, and its a big battle, so I thought we all go together. I saved you the fancy hat! George, this is Commander S'hib."

George physically stumbled back a few steps at the onslaught of raw, powerful emotion. Panting, he started to glare at the being, the sudden surge of emotions fueling his inner demon. He took a step towards the large being, not caring that he was dwarfed by the much larger, and probably stronger, being.

However, as soon as he both heard Miraj's voice and felt her bright, excited emotions, George felt the demon get stuffed back into its cage, deep in his soul. Feeling a little lightheaded, He raised his hand in greeting. "Hello...Com..Commander." George was trying to catch his breath and steady himself, suddenly worried that he might lose two new friends before he truly made them.

"Hello indeed." S'hib snorted, his hot water vapour puffing out of each nostril as he clasped his far larger equine mitt around the outstretched hand, clamping all four hoofed digits around firmly. "I take it we won't be dancing this time?" He asked, finally breaking his gaze and fixing his eyes on Miraj, though both ears remained ever fixed in Georges direction.

George was not surprised by the strength of S’hib’s grip. He looked like he could rip duranium apart with his bare mitts. He was still feeling a fair amount of, was it animosity? No, not jealousy either. But, there was definitely something there that the young untrained Betazoid couldn’t quite identify. He did, however, notice that though S’Hib had turned his eyes towards Miraj, his large ears were directed directly at George.

"No, no dancing, no creepy naval officers and no corsets. Pinky promise." Miraj beamed, oblivious to the flash of tension between them. She offered him a flashy red diggers coat and a large tricorn hat with a feather in it. There were holes for his ears. "I thought you could be Bloodbeard this time. And George can be Staines." She turned to George. "He's the sergeant at arms, nasty in a fight and has no morals whatsoever. It also means you two are first over the side in a boarding action."

Sighing inwardly at the offered outfit, wondering if this was her way of telling him she didn't like it. This is your fault he thought frustratedly, snapping his eyes back to George before letting go of his hand and moving towards Miraj. “Does this mean I get to boss you about?” He grinned as he removed his overcoat, placing it haphazardly to one side before crouching somewhat near the chest Miraj was at, the slightly longer coat on his chest and shoulders flickering from a small breeze blowing through the creaky old ship.

"Well, I'm the cabin boy, so yes. It would be a bit weird if I was giving the orders." She hauled a brace of pistols sized for the sequus out of the trunk and handed them over. he doesn't have a shirt at all she realised, his short white hair doing nothing to hide to lean muscles that were just about everywhere. Her blush rising automatically. She quickly looked away, reaching for more pistols. I'm, going to spend the next hour looking like a lobster.
And Naxea might just kill me.

“Have you got that longer one from before?” He snorted, taking the offered pistols and slinging the brace over one shoulder. “I liked that one” He added, leaning his long head curiously into the trunk, getting his mane in the way of her hands.

She brushed it aside, careful not to put any knots into the new growth. She was glad it was coming back in. Seeing him shorn had been gut wrenching. "If you drop your hair in my lap, I can't get your gun out." she chided him, retrieving a musket from the chest much the same way Mary Poppins might retrieve a lampstand. "And one for you?" She asked George.

George was hoping that neither of them noticed how unsteady he was. Though his mind was calming, it still felt as if a storm was raging deep inside him. He felt a wide mixture of emotions from the both of them. Anger, anxiousness, admiration, jealousy, attraction and self-doubt.

Blinking his eyes to try and focus, George finally found some mental control. Standing up straighter, he moved over to stand next to S’Hib, and gazed down into the chest. “May I please have two flintlock pistols, a cutlass and pair of throwing daggers?”

She hauled them out, rooting around until she found some throwing daggers. "The best thing about being Roger," she told them, "Is that I get these." She pulled out a bandolier that had half a dozen round iron balls hanging from it in small string bags. The grenades were roughly tennis ball size, each with an inch of wick poking out. Then she sighed, and put them back, swapping them for another pair of pistols. "But if we're going after merchants I better not. Merchants are less likely to surrender if you start killing them. No profit it in it. So we threaten them a little, and it will be fine. If we over do it, game over. Got it?"

George nodded as he loaded his weapons into his outfit. “Let’s just hope those fools don’t try anything stupid. It’s been awhile since my cutlass had a drink.” He was trying to get into character, hoping that he didn’t sound like a fool.

To be Continued…