Back Sailing Under the Jolly Roger

“Permission to come aboard.”
“Turkish,” Portia said, leaning forward to the console screen. “How delightful to see you again.”
“You have my ship.”
“So it seems, yes. And quiet an amazing feat it was, too.”
“Prepare for boarding.”
“Enough with the chit-chat,” Bea interrupted. “Get your skinny pirate ass on board as fast a possible, Turkish. Driving this thing is like trying to steer a battleship in a bathtub. I’d be more comfortable in wide open space.”
“I copy,” Turkish said, laughing.
Turkish arrived with a small army of his own aboard the Starmaster 5050. It seems he had to leave Laredo in a rather hurry.
“It’s amazing how quickly the Corporate suits can turn up the heat when they think you stole their ship,” Turkish said. He uncorked the bottle of wine and generously filled glasses.
He handed the first glass to Portia. She took a small sip, wanting to pace herself after the last embarrassing drunken incident. “But what about Laredo?” she asked.
Turkish continued to fill glasses. “It’ll fall into the hands of some other rogue, I’m sure. I’ll miss it, sure, but I missed the hard scrounging life of a space pirate. Glad to be back sailing under the Jolly Roger.”
Bea took glass with a small curtsey. “Thanks to you, sir pirate. And how are we to get to Eden Twelve, if asking is not being too impudent.”
“Yeah,” Portia chimed in. “We only did that job for you to get on the Slingshot.”
“And protection against handsome, roving rogue pirates?” Turkish asked.
“If such a thing exists, yes.”
“You forget, Gizmo, that this is a fast than light Drive Ship. Once my stellar crew figures out the engines, I’ll have you there in a jiff. A second. A nano second, even.”
“So our passage is already paid?”
“Yes, no more tricks.”
She didn’t really believe him but the wine was pleasantly warm in her belly and his good mood was infectious. “What will you name it?”
“It?”
“The ship.”
“Ships are women. What will I name her?”
“Yes, what will you name her?”
Twelve spoke, “The Starship Fabulous, of course.”
“A grand name,” Turkish agreed, “but no. She’s a fine ship and needs a fine, menacing name, to strike fear into the hearts of my foe.”
“So the Rainbow Fluffy Puppy Express is out?”
“Yes, right out.”
Once the Starship Rainbow Fluffy Puppy Express Fabulous was a safe distance, it dropped out of father than light drive and drifted towards Eden Twelve.
“How long do we have?” Portia asked Turkish. She was curled up on a sofa in the lounge/bar of the ship. Corporate ships came with a very generous liquor cabinet.
“Seven days approximately.”
Bea shook her head. “Seven days travel to eclipse twenty years. Amazing.”
Portia took the glass of wine from Bea. “Booze makes her philosophical.”
The celebration had grown to include the entire crew.
“Who’s driving the ship?”
“I’ve got my best men on it.”
Brick sat next to Bea, his thick arm draped over her shoulders. “I’m telling you, laddie, if I was twenty years younger, you’d be in trouble.”
The bracelet on Turkish’s wrist beep. A thin voice said, “Captain, we need your assistance…”
Turkish patted Portia on the head. “To be continued,” he said.
“Why does everyone treat me like a kid? Incase you didn’t notice, I kicked ass today.”
“You’re right,” Turkish said. He grabbed Portia by either arm and lifted her off her feet and kissed her firmly. It was very nice, not testing or curious, but like a pirate claiming treasure. Portia rather liked being claimed.
He smirked and winked before leaving.
And some point Franklin sat down next to Portia, placing on arm around her shoulders.
“Not bad for our first job,” he said.
The wine was making her feel generous, very generous and cheerful. “You know,” she said, “it’s a shame the way we can’t get on.”
“I think we get on,” Franklin said.
“No, we don’t. Too much tension, my grandmother says. It gets in the way and clouds our judgment, makes us uptight.”
“I am not uptight.”
“Yes you are. Last time I was this drunk I was all over you and what did you do?”
“I was a gentleman,” he said.
“Gentleman? Gentleman,” she repeated the word again, as if suddenly forgetting its meaning. “No, you picked a fight. Very ungentlemanly.”
“Well, all I can say is this time don’t drink so much I have to be a gentleman. I don’t like it, goes against my nature.”
Portia looked at the glass in her hand, debating silently half full or half empty. “It’s very hard to judge, you know.”
“The effects of alcohol in artificial gravity? It can really do a number on a person.”
“That, too.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with you taking love advice from your sainted granny.”
“That because you haven’t had enough to drink yet.”
“I don’t think I need…”
Portia refilled his glass.
“Come on, it’s a celebration.”
Franklin raised the glass in a toast. “To alcohol.”
“The cause of and solution to all life’s problems.”
The glasses clinked.