James T. Kirk

Harold Lee was miserable.

He had a place in his Captain's bed, something he was told often he should be thankful for. Some broken, longing part of him was grateful. The rest of him seethed, boiled over with quiet rage. Stolen from his earned place as ship's boy on a merchant vessel, he'd been kept for his rare appearance and little else. The Captain's service, or left for dead.

The Captain could be kind. He often was. That didn't change the fact of Harold's imprisonment. He was a pet; a plaything that looked exotic. An ornament with duties and a talented mouth.

Alone and powerless in his fury, Harold had just... waited. Built on his rage and grief. Sometimes he'd spirit food away into one of the lifeboats, only to get desperately frightened and frantically put it all back again. This was one of those days.

Well. Harold's breath caught in his chest as he looked out over the sea. Perhaps today would be different. It didn't make sense, he knew it, he knew it was a longshot that could cost him a fair bit of skin off his back. Or his life. But... sails. Grey sails, on the evening horizon. Harold had only a vague, blossoming hope and a lifeboat that he'd come to think of as somehow his own.

One small act of defiance later, and Harold was ready.

He waited for the first quiet moment and hooked the lifeboat in. Carefully, he slid a few more useful objects and food into it. Deep breath, and he set his jaw. Could he do it, this time?

Grey sails. Oh, yes. How could grey be so beautiful? As delicately as he could, he removed the covering and swung out the lifeboat.

He cut the falls, deftly swinging from one of them himself to land in the boat. As quickly as he could find his hands he shoved off with an oar, into the evening.

From:

First Mate Harold Lowe of the Lady Grey had been watching the white sails that drifted, nearly like a mirage, just over the edge of the horizon. This area was profitable for merchants, and where merchantmen roamed, pirates inevitably followed. It was, as he well understood, part and parcel of being at sea.

Regardless, that ship on the edge of the world had made no efforts towards changing her course. Lowe took precautions; he informed Captain Winslow, who told him to go ahead. He ordered the crew to make ready the guns, calmly. He ordered those on watch to keep a lookout. He ordered all lanterns doused, which left only the schooner's cloud of gray sails, which would blend in handsomely with her own horizon as dusk wore on.

He had not quite anticipated, though, that there would be a small breakaway cloud from the ones on the horizon, tacking this way.

"What do you make of it, Mister Scott?" he asked, as the second mate peered through the spyglass, one arm wrapped around the shroud to steady himself.

"Looks like a lifeboat, sir," Scott replied, offering the glass over.

Lowe took it, peering down it. "No signs of distress from the other ship, though; no smoke, no veering."

"No, sir."

"Well, he's making decent time, whomever he is." Lowe watched for a moment. The little boat was bowling along handsomely, really. After a few more moments, he closed the glass and handed it back to Scott. "Keep an eye on it," he ordered, in a fairly clipped and clean North Welsh accent. "And I'll inform the captain."

Scott nodded, smartly. "Aye aye, sir." And went back to watching the little breakaway cloud.

--

In the end, it was decided to take in some sail and allow the little boat to catch up. The captain passed the order for all hands, and Lowe and Scott saw it carried out -- two officers on deck, shouting orders to their respective watches, larboard and starboard. It would not stop the Grey; should the other vessel wish to turn and follow, then they could loose sail again quickly, even if it meant leaving the lifeboat. But it would allow her to slow enough for the boat to catch up.

And on the decks of the schooner, in tense silence, most of the crew just waited and watched.

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Leonard had been below decks, chatting to De and Bill amicably over their dinner. They were occasionally interruped by shouts from above, although they had thought little of it at the time - perhaps the winds had changed.

But the sudden silence that followed, the eerie calm that befell the ship just wasn't... right. Leonard could feel it in his bones, somehow, the wrongness and so he excused himself from Bill and De to sneak up on deck.

There was another ship on the horizon, its sails a stark contrast to the glowing color of the sky in sunset, and it was... headed their way.

He walked up to Scotty with some hesitation, not wanting to interrupt the man's work, but he needed to know, to confirm his suspicions.

"That what I think it is?" he murmured below his breath, not wanting to break the stillness all around them.

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Scotty cast a glance to Nimoy, then nodded, offering the glass briefly over. "Aye, it is. Looks to be a lifeboat, one man aboard her, headin' right for us." The details were getting clearer by the moment, and so far, the other ship still had not responded. "We've taken in sail to allow him to catch us. Then we'll get whatever story it might be he has."

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He'd been referring to the main ship he had seen on the horizon, but now that Scotty mentioned it, he could make out the lifeboat as well.

"We got any idea who they are, the other ship, not the lifeboat?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Have they signalled?"

Because if they hadn't, that most likely meant... trouble brewing.

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"No, they havena. No colors, either, on their mast." It looked like there might be some activity on the ship out there, but the distance was too far to tell. "We've taken some precautions, if it does turn out to be trouble. And they'd be hardpressed to catch the Grey, even if our wind doesna hold as well as it is now." That was some pride in the schooner talking. It was also something of a fact -- the Lady Grey had a slim, narrow body with a sharp prow and a deep enough draft for stability. And that wasn't counting the massive fore-and-aft rigged sails that flew aloft.

Edited Date: 2009-09-19 11:36 pm (UTC)

From:

kirktastic.livejournal.com

"Let him go." Kirk rumbled unhappily. "There's better then that misfit, and he'll find out shortly enough."

"What about the ship, sir?"

"....keep along with it. I want ta see it's speed."

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"She's makin' sail to follow!" yelled one of the ABs, who'd been keeping watch all along the rails of the schooner.

Two men instantly pulled out their spyglasses -- Winslow and Lowe -- and one bounced a little on the balls of his feet because he'd offered his over to Nimoy. After a moment, the captain said, "She's got a full spread, and can run dead ahead of the wind."

"She's heavier, however, Captain," Lowe said, watching through his glass.

"Mm." Winslow thought on it for a long moment, then gave his orders. "Hold our course until we get that boat, then make all sail. It's going to be close, but he's making good speed."

"Aye aye, sir," both Scott and Lowe answered in unison.

All they could do was wait.

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cso-spock.livejournal.com

Spock stepped up beside Kirk, adjusting the baldric across his chest as he looked out across the ocean to where the life boat was floating away from the Enterprise and towards the other ship on the horizon. The smallsword was a pleasant weight against his hip, along with the flintlock in its holster resting just below his stomach along the wide leather strap.

"Following the ship is not necessary, Captain."

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Within hailing distance, he's barely be able to breathe. Just... not daring to believe that he'd made it this far. He fought to get enough air in to call out, and his call tapered uselessly once it hit his throat. Frustrated, terrified, and conflicted, he dragged enough of a breath and tried again.

The voice that rang back, however, cut through the air as though it were made for it; it would be hard to believe that it came from a man of only five and a half feet, if not for the fact it most obviously did: "Boat ahoy!" A standard hail. "Come alongside!"

Relief. Flooding, overwhelming relief. He became aware of a childish urge to punch the air, but ignored it and maneuvered the lifeboat as instructed. He was vaguely aware of the litany of "thankyouthankyouthankyou" pouring from his mouth; there was no way they could hear it, really, but there it was.

The man who had called to him didn't waste any time; the curious crew along the rails of the schooner threw a line over for Harold to climb up, even as the man barked back over his shoulder, "Coming aboard now, sir!"

He snatched at it like the lifeline it was, and gave a strange backward glance to the lifeboat he'd come to love. So many times he'd stowed things in it, the fantasy of escape bringing him the illusion that the boat was the only thing in the world truly his. A silent, split-second goodbye, and he scrambled his way up the line and to salvation.

"Secure!" the man yelled, then immediately turned to return to stand below the quarterdeck; another man joined him there quickly.

"Make all sail, gentlemen!" the fellow who had to be captain yelled from the quarterdeck above.

It became a flurry on deck; the crew pushed off the rails, and the two officers barked -- the one who had rescued Harold handled the mainmast, whilst the one who had come down to join him ran to the foremast. Shouts rang out in the approaching darkness as the officers ordered their respective watches -- setting stay's'ls, setting the gaffs, flying every stitch of canvas the Grey had aloft. A well-ordered crew, the deployment was swift; they were trimming quickly.

"Helm, ten to starboard!" the Captain cried out.

Harold stood. Some kind of freedom; he didn't know yet what he'd escaped to, but it was different and that had to be something. He stood with a thousand-yard stare and simply breathed. Eventually, he took a few careful steps to turn around and face the ship he'd called his home. Loss and relief in equal, wrestling measures.

[[OOC: This was written, in large part, by

allmhadadh, we put it together to save tag space.]]

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:32 am (UTC)

From:

"It's the Enterprise," Lowe said, once the sails were set, trimmed and the Grey was on her starboard tack. And that one name alone was enough to make the entire crew fall silent.

The Enterprise had quite a reputation. It wasn't all one-sided; she was considered a villain to the lawful side, and a more... noble vessel from the other. Kirk was known as being one of the best pirates to come along in quite a long time, both for his skills at taking vessels, and for his skill in charming his way through ports.

For a schooner, however, the ship was more the former than the latter.

"She outmans and outguns us," Winslow said, watching the ghostly white sails unnervingly off the larboard stern, closer by far than they had been.

"Aye, sir, but we can outrun her," Scott replied, a creeping edge of defensiveness in his voice for the vessel.

"Belay that, Mister Scott," Lowe said, though he didn't raise his voice to do it. "She's got the wind on her side; she'll likely not gain, but she's not going to disappear, either."

A square-rigged vessel like the Enterprise, even given how heavy she was, and even given that she wasn't as nimble, was still the best setup to run dead before a wind. The Grey could, on the other hand, sail far closer into the wind than any square-rigged vessel. But in this case, she had to tack, starboard and larboard, in order to keep ahead. It diminished the distance she could gain on speed alone.

It was, then, a stalemate.

"Go and see about the fellow we brought aboard, if you please," Winslow finally ordered, as he remained on the quarterdeck to watch.

"Aye aye, sir," came the reply.

Lowe and Scott both could not help glance back at the famous vessel behind them. And then they headed down to the maindeck to meet their new charge.

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:43 am (UTC)

From:

Harold didn't immediately turn to greet them. He barely registered that other people were on deck. He looked back on the Enterprise, not even blinking when the wind tossed his hair into his eyes.

Loss and triumph. Captain.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and turned. He opened them to the sight of two men who could, at a glance, be related. Dark hair, dark eyes.

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The shorter, and elder, of the two gave the newcomer an appraising look. A sharp, smart look. The younger was more openly curious, nearly a look of wonder.

"First mate Harold Lowe, and you're aboard the schooner Lady Grey of Cardiff," the elder finally said. His accent, for those who knew it, was Welsh, an almost sing-song note to it that seemed nearly at odds with the way he could bark from the stern and hit the bowsprit with his voice.

"Second mate Montgomery Scott," the younger added on, giving their rescue a quick bit of a grin, before schooling his features back to something more acceptable. Similar accent, but not nearly the same.

"What brings you to us?" Lowe asked, his even gaze never wavering.

Edited Date: 2009-09-20 12:56 am (UTC)

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Lady Grey. Harold thought it was perfect.

The odd combination of commanding and sympathetic was comforting, but he was still wary. He felt drawn in both directions; he wondered briefly which would win out.

He found a small optimistic smile for the one who had introducted himself as Scott, before turning a set jaw to the one who shared Harold's name.

That... was a rather large question, wasn't it?

Try an introduction instead. "My name is Harold Lee. I was pressed into service on the Enterprise after she took the merchant ship I served on. I saw your sails, and took a chance." He put out a hand. "Thank you. How can I help?"

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Lowe took the hand and shook, followed by Scott, then said, "Korean, correct? What are you rated for, then, Lee?"

Generally speaking, a man could go his whole life without seeing an Asian sailor, absent the Philippines. That being said, Lowe had indeed been to the Far East, and carried a good deal of respect for the cultures he was exposed to there, however limited his dealings.

From:

kirktastic.livejournal.com

"She might have something worth taking." Kirk said to Spock, tilting his gaze to his first mate. He looked to his crew and snapped, "Set us for as much speed as ye can get then everyone below deck! To oars!"

Another trick up her sleeve, one that few knew about, and it made Kirk grin at the sheer thought. The Enterprise had been outfitted for her lower decks to pack one hell of a surprise when she needed to overcome ships.

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With a nod, Leonard handed the spyglasses back and headed for down below.

Just as he'd thought - and if there was trouble brewing, if that really was a pirate ship, as he suspected, he wanted to be ready.

Bill and De looked up at him questioningly as he entered the room where their hammocks were strung up, amidst all the others. Leonard ignored them for long enough to kneel down and pull out the bag that held his meagre possessions.

Meagre except for this one family heirloom he had carried around with him since he'd abandoned his old life, not because he wanted to use it, but because it was stupid to assume he might not have to, someday.

The rapier's blade gleamed in the light cast by the oil lamps as he unwrapped it, still as sharp, still as deadly as it had been when his father had given it to him upon entering the Fleet.

He just hoped that if he had to use it, he'd remember those skills he hadn't used in over a decade. Stagefighting was... nothing like the real thing.

From:

canadianbill.livejournal.com

Bill's eyes went from the point of the rapier where it sparkled in the light filtering down into their sleeping quarters, to Len's face, and then back to the rapier. He had never had occasion to examine, or be shown, the contents of Leonard's rather mysterious bag of belongings, and he had certainly had no idea that a sword as magnificent as this one was among them. He wondered whether Leonard knew how to use it; and then immediately dismissed the thought - it was evident from Leonard's posture, the way he held the sword at a perfect balance in his hand, that he certainly did.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

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"Hopefully nothing," Leonard responded, as he sat down on one of the barrels they'd pulled together as makeshift chairs, keeping his grip on the sword even as he rested the flat of it against his leg.

"There's a ship on the horizon - not flying any colours, not responding to hails, and someone in a lifeboat was headed our way, probably getting on board about now," he explained. "And I'll be damned if that ship belongs to any fleet I've ever heard of."

From:

de-forest.livejournal.com

Great. Great. Just what De was worried about, unidentified ships on the horizon. Why couldn't anything ever go right?

But his thoughts about that were rather taken over by the fact that Len had a sword. A real one. Not a stage sword, they all had those, but this was a real sword.

"What on earth do you have a sword for, Len?" His tone was somewhat incredulous, disbelieving.

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"So I can defend myself, in the event of that becoming necessary?"

Leonard wasn't all that surprised, actually, that De had trouble accepting this - it wasn't as if he advertised that part of his life much.

"Used to be my grandfather's," he explained, "and I got it from my father the day I enlisted. I probably should have returned it, really, but for some reason I couldn't part with it. Some things you just... hold on to, even if they're no longer a part of your life, you know?"

From:

de-forest.livejournal.com

DeForest nodded; he understood the sentiments and reason why Leonard still had this sword - he had just been a little surprised that Leonard, of all people, had such an instrument in his possession. It was not something that he would have expected from his association with Leonard so far.

"You...think we'll be defending ourselves? Len. I didn't sign up for that Len. This was just meant to be a simple voyage, cross the sea, get jobs - no one said anything about having to defend ourselves against.." De scrabbled for the right words, panic rising in his throat "...against unknown ships!"

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"I think it's better to be prepared, just in case," Leonard answered, then settled a reassuring hand on De's shoulder. "Look, I don't like this either, not at all, but we'll just have to see what happens, alright? With any luck, I'm just being paranoid, and nothing will happen. But if I'm not, then I'll have your back. I promise."

There was a fierce spark in his eyes then, at his last words. He might not like fighting, but he'd been damn good at it, back in the day.

[OOC- LOL, even pirate!AU De is all anxious. *cuddles him]

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From:

kirktastic.livejournal.com

"Sir!"

Kirk looked up from pouring over maps with his navigator, the young but intense man all the way from the cold reaches of Russia. He frowned at the crewman that came in who looked frantic. "What is it?"

"Captain, one of the lifeboats dropped int'the water!"

Kirk's eyes went wide and he jerked out of the cabin, rushing along side of his crew member to where he pointed out to the sea. Kirk reached into a pouch along the side of one leg and pulled out an eyeglass, scowling. To his surprise, it was none other then Harold.

"...damn his Asian hide!" Kirk growled, glaring through the eyeglass.

"Lift yer gaze to the Northeast, captain."

Kirk did so, and scowled even more. Another ship! Sleek sailed and sleek design... nothing he'd seen before. So, he's decided this isn't the life fer him? He's had little but the best, fool boy. He pushed close the eyeglass, thinking.

They could take the time to chase after him and the other ship, or they could abandon him to his fate. The design of the other ship was a concern - smaller and sleeker. The Enterprise was a beauty, though. No other ship her size could go her speed.

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