David's Star

"He has sent you to the poor;

To bind up the Brokenhearted."

(Isaiah 62: 1-3)

Crew List of the Ship David's Star

Name Country of OriginRank/DutyOther Age

Anderson, Alex E SD, USA Sailing Crew 42

Anton, Luis R Major Madrid, Spain Gunner Marines 36

Bartello, Jacob Rome, Italy Sailing Crew 40

Bergess, Samuel "Sam" Australia Sailing Crew 43

Blackwolf, Corey F WI, USA Ojibway Sailing Crew 40

Brant, Lewis E Scotland Sailing Crew 51

Brogart, Liam W Ireland Sailing Crew 48

Casse, Katryn R Dr. MT, USA Surgeon/ Medical 29

Chang, William China Sailing Crew 38

Chavez, Jose F AZ, USA Apache Gunner US Marines 35

Cole, Andrew M "Andy"MO, USA Sailing Crew/Carpenter 39

Conrad, David A Lt."Dave" CA, USA WeaponsNavy SEAL35

Cortez, Jacques "Jack"El Salvador, CA2nd Officer 35

Costello, Victor "Vic"CA, USA Gunner US Marines40

Davidson, Jesse Dr."Harley" WA, USA PawneeDr/Chiropract.Medical26

DuVall, Jorge B France Sailing Crew 29

Falconberg, Anders SNE, USA Gunner US Marines40

Florence, Brian CA, USA Gunner US Marines39

Freeman, Brad P TX, USA Sailing Crew 54

Freers, Corey R Ontario, Canada Sailing Crew 52

Garsen, James T New Zealand Sailing Crew 28

Goldberg, Martin W NJ, USA Sailing Crew 46

Gonzalez, Sebastian C Tamps, Mexico Sailing Crew 36

Gustaf, Brett Halmstad, Sweden Sailing Crew 52

Hendricks, Lance T Major TX, USA Cherokee 3rd Officer/Navy SEAL44

Hoffman, Jared F NY, USA Bosun 55

Hunter, John F "Johnny"Lt.South Hampton UK Sailor/Gunner/Royal Navy31

Jakov, Petur Tel Aviv, Israel Weapons/Explosives29

Jeffries, Brandon Q UT, USA Sailing Crew 37

Johnson, George Lt. MS, USA Lookout/Gunner/Navy SEAL38

Kendrick, Stephan Sydney, Australia Sailing Crew 52

Kozlow, Julius Poland Gunner Military 32

LaRue, Jensson France Sailing Crew 37

Larssen, Gustav Stockholm, Sweden Sailing Crew 52

Lee, Kim Hong Kong WeaponsExplosives30

Levitson, Peter "Pete"Israel Quartermaster 40

Marco, Duane TX, USA Sailing Crew 39

Martinez, Jesus NM, USA Regist. Nurse/Medical 24

Masters, Rick ID, USA Sailor/GunnerUS Navy 29

Miklos, Julius Cpt. Thessalonika, Greece 4th Officer/Marines30

Murdock, Jonathan "Jon"BC, Canada Sailing Crew 46

Newman, John OK, USA Ponca Lookout/gunner /US Marines38

O'Connell, William Lt.Wales, UK Sailor/Gunner/Royal Navy38

Phillips, William "Willie"South Hampton, UK Regist. Nurse/Medical25

Ratzlov, David "Davey"Romania 1st Officer 38

Redbird, Carlos Lt. OK, USA SiouxLookout/gunner/ Navy SEAL 39

Richards, Russell O Captain Ireland Ship's Captain 57

Rogers, Nicholas "Nicky"FL, USA Gunner US Marines 37

Romero, Alejandro TX, USA Sailor/GunnerUS Navy 40

Ryan, William "Billy"Ireland Sailing Crew 52

Stenson, Robert F "Robbie"NC, USA Sailing Crew 50

Takata, Yutaka Tokyo, Japan Sailing Crew 36

Winston, Lars Norway Sailing Crew 48

Chapter One

Dr. Katryn Raye Casse sighed, rolling over. The hammock was not the most comfortable bed, but it was so rare that she got to sleep a bit later than normal, she really didn't care.

She'd been aboard the ship for so long, she didn't even notice the constant motion, anymore. The frigate, "David's Star" had been built in the year 2003, and set sail three years later. It was an exact replica of the old 18th Century frigates. Indeed, it was a 5th rate, square-rigged vessel, carrying three masts . . . with a few modern upgrades.

Because it had been built for the purpose of sending a group of sailors on an experimental trip back through time, none of its modifications could be seen from the outside. They'd had everything built to standard, right down to the gun-ports and the 36 24-pound guns, or cannons, as Katryn preferred to call them. However, they only carried a fraction of the standard 18th Century crew, but then, their mission was mainly to observe, and document their experiences, as well as documenting any information on war or merchant ships, they happened to come across, which, to the crew's disappointment, they hadn't done yet.

Captain Russell O'Brien Richards, a 57 year-old Irishman, who had spent most of his life at sea and studying the old sailing ships, had originally objected to the amount of firepower they were carrying, but reluctantly agreed when he'd been informed they were going back to a time where there were multiple battles at sea, and all ships were required to defend themselves, in the event of attack. As David's Star was traveling under a black flag, sporting a Jewish Star of David, they would more than likely have to defend themselves.

Katryn gave a wry grin. She loved their flag, even if they would be mistaken for pirates. Their sponsors were a large group of Jewish men, and they had insisted on the flag. The crew itself, came from all over the world, selected for sailing experience and military know-how, including two British Navymen, four US Navy SEALS, several marines, and others from marine-military backgrounds in countries all over the world. All of these were assigned the task of protecting the ship and the lives aboard.

The rest of the crew-members -except the medical team- had been hired for sailing experience and had to have a full understanding of every part of the frigate, the sails, and the masts. Each member of the sailing crew had to pass a detailed test on the general layout and each and every working part of the ship, while the main Officers had to pass tests on anything to do with sailing and commanding the ship, as well as navigating without the use of computers or satellite guidance positioning. Meanwhile, the marines and weapons' crews had to know every part of the guns, inside and out, as well as any other weapons that they happened to have on board.

The medical staff, while they didn't have to know anything much about sailing, was assigned with the medical health and treatment of the rest of the crew. Although, they didn't know as much about sailing the ship, they did have to study the full layout of the frigate and Katryn had taken it upon herself to study the masts and sails, as well, but that was mainly because she liked to climb the masts. In addition to their medical duties, the medical staff also took their turns with the cooking and the dirty work, such as cleaning the toilets, swabbing the deck, and feeding the three cats they kept on board, in the orlop.

Katryn, herself, had been born and raised in Montana. Alth0ugh Jewish by birth, she was American. Her assistant, Jesse "Harley" Davidson, was from Washington State, and native Pawnee Indian, complete with mohawk. Jesse's background was Emergency Medicine and Chiropractic, while Katryn was the surgeon and the only woman aboard.

The two Registered Nurses, Jesus Martinez, of New Mexico, and William "Willie" Phillips, of South Hampton, England, completed the medical staff. The four of them had become fast friends, and all had come to enjoy their life at sea. So far, it was agreed that this was much more exciting and fun than being in the hospital all the time.

In spite of her gender, Katryn pulled her weight and could hold her own against any man on the ship, and had proved it several times, back when the ship first set sail from Florida, six months before . . . or, as one should say; six months before and more than two-hundred years later?

Remembering those first few weeks made Katryn smile wider. She was short and thin, but she'd loved rock climbing as a hobby, and growing up in Montana, she'd been raised climbing, so most of her weight was solid muscle.

When First Officer, David "Davey" Ratzlov, a blond haired, blue-eyed Romanian, had laughed at her, she'd challenged him to arm wrestle. She did not beat him, more's the pity, but he had taken most of his strength to pin her, and afterwards, Jesse had ended up readjusting Davey's shoulder. She'd, since, gained the respect of the entire crew, and was treated as an equal. The crew had taken to calling her 'KC' or 'Dr. KC', the nickname, a badge of honor that she wore proudly, and surprisingly, not one of them had protested to having a woman doctor. In all reality, they saw her as more of a sister, and a trusted friend, which was exactly the way Katryn liked it.

The Second Officer, Jacques Cortez, having long, black hair and dark brown eyes, being another shortish person aboard, had, like Katryn, been a rock climber, as well as a sailor, so he'd gotten along with Katryn, almost immediately, and the two of them frequently hung out, usually on the top-yards or doing stretches in Katryn's quarters. Jacques was from El Salvador, and sometimes spoke in very broken English, but somehow nobody aboard had any trouble understanding him, and to Katryn, he was nothing short of a brother.

A knock on her door caused her to jump. "Yeah?" She called, yawning.

Jesse poked his mohawked head into the room. "We're on, Kat." He announced. "Davey just came down to tell us Cortez fell off the ratlines, and they think he's broken an ankle or something."

Katryn's eyes widened. Usually, they'd just need Jesse unless it required surgery, but knowing Cortez was a close friend of hers, he'd known she'd want to know. "H0w bad?" She asked, jumping up, and snatching her skull-and-crossbones scrub cap and tying it on so she wouldn't have to brush her hair. She'd slept in her black scrubs, so there was no need to change.

"Not sure." Jesse answered, as she followed him up the stairs. "According to Davey, he fell off the ratlines when one tore and I guess he snagged his ankle on the way down, catching all his weight on it. Lucky for him, or he'd have cracked his skull. He hadn't clipped the harness to the safety rope yet."

"I don't believe in luck." Katryn responded, already thanking God for saving her friend's life.

"I know." Jesse replied. "And I was thinking the same thing."

Katryn smiled. Most of the crew shared the same beliefs in God. That, amongst all other things, was what kept the order between the crew members.

The two headed out to the maindeck, where Cortez lay, looking pale. Captain Richards and Davey were crouched next to him, talking. The rest of the crew had gone back to work, as they couldn't stop their duties for very long.

"How ya' doing, Jack?" Katryn asked, setting down a medical bag and squatting down next to him.

Cortez gave a grin. She was the only one who was allowed to call him that. "Hurt like heck, but I didn't hear crack, or anything." He responded, as Jesse cut his sneaker and sock off to reveal a very bruised looking ankle.

"Looks like it hurts." Katryn commented, making a face.

Jesse, not even blinking, pulled out his tuning fork. After striking it against the deck, he carefully held the base of it to several areas of Cortez's ankle.

"Doesn't hurt any more than already did." Jacques told them, looking relieved.

Katryn nodded. This meant the bone was not broken. "Looks like a bad sprain, though." She replied, watching Jesse examine the bruised area, while Cortez winced. "Put some ice on it, and Jess' can get an ACE bandage around it."

"We even have some nice crutches for you." Jesse remarked, sweetly.

"So 'e's off duty then." Captain Richards stated.

"For a few days." Jesse commented. "He can go back on half duty, after he gets used to the crutches."

Cortez made a face.

"And no climbing the ratlines for at least a couple weeks." Katryn added.

Cortez's face fell. "Now that really suck." He muttered.

Katryn gave him a sympathetic look. Like herself, not being able to climb would be a terrible and cruel punishment.

Jesse eyed Cortez. "You might have a touch of whiplash, too." He put in, helping Jacques up. "I can take care of that though."

Davey quickly moved to Cortez's other side, and the two of them slowly guided the injured Officer below decks.

Captain Richards sighed as he returned to the Quarter-Deck. Katryn followed, eyeing the Captain. Then she frowned, noticing something.

"We've been at sea here for six months, and you're still carrying that?" She commented, shaking her head.

The Captain frowned. "What?"

"You know what." Katryn insisted, pulling the pager off his belt. "Come on, Russ, humor me. Why?!"

Russell shook his head, grinning, and took the pager from her. "I always 'ated the thing. Always wen' off at the damndest toimes."

Katryn frowned at his language. "So why still carry it?"

Russell laughed. "Why do ye think, KC?"

Katryn rolled her eyes. "You wear a pager in the 18th Century purely because it will never go off again."

The Captain gave a guilty look.

Katryn shook her head. "Freaks." She murmured. "I'm surrounded by freaks."

Russell raised an eyebrow and reached over to remove her scrub-cap, revealing her purple and black streaked hair. "Ye fit in noicly, KC." He retorted, laughing. "You and that assistant o' yers, wi' the mohawk that's ever changin' colors. Fortunate, we are not to 'ave come across another ship, yet. Foine spectical we'd make, what with Ratzlov standin' on du'y, wi' his sunglasses and leather jacket, an' you wi' yer purple 'air an' 'eadphones, standin' at the top o' the main mast."

Katryn shrugged. "Well, with Jesse, any of the marines in army fatigues, find a cowboy, a pilot, and a construction worker and we'd have the Village People." She suggested.

Russell laughed, shaking his head. Truthfully, they were supposed to be dressed for the Century and not allowed to flaunt the fact that they were from another Century, entirely. However, as they'd not come across another ship, after six months at sea, most of the crew had been bending the rules, adding touches of their own style, and all of the crew, including the Captain, wore sneakers or other comfortable footwear, even if not all of them had stopped wearing the 18th Century clothing.

"Do you even have batteries in that thing?" Katryn asked, changing the subject back to the pager.

"Oh there's bat'ries in it." He informed her, with a shrug. "But I've no' changed 'em since we left, so they're probably dead by now."

"So did anyone spot anything while I was gone?" Davey suddenly asked, approaching the pair.

"Yeah, I think I saw a cloud." Katryn retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Are we even in the right ocean!?" Ratzlov quipped. "I know we've calculated our location to the Northeastern Atlantic, but seriously, after six months, you'd think we'd have seen something in the form of another ship, by now."

"You just wanna see if those guns they gave us work." Katryn smirked. "Admit it, you wanna see Major Hendricks blow something up."

Major Lance Hendricks was the Third Officer, a Cherokee Indian, from Texas, and the lead of the resident SEAL team members. He and his friend, Captain Julius Miklos, the Fourth Officer, from the Greek Marines, were in charge of the defense of the ship. In addition to the 24 pound guns, or cannons, they'd brought some SEAL-issue weapons, with instructions not to use them, unless the lives of the crew were in danger.

In the event of an unavoidable battle, the two were also trained with gun crews, to operate the cannons and fire within a moment's notice. Although, with the help of Kim Lee, from Hong Kong, and Petur Jakov, from Israel, who were the resident explosives' experts, their cannon shots were a bit more powerful than those of the realm. This was the biggest reason why anyone who worked on the gun deck, was required to wear a suit of lightweight kevlar body armor, as well as eye protection, and ear plugs, designed to protect them in the event of any unavailable battle. Richards, familiar with the horror stories of the mutilated bodies of gunners, fighting on the gun-decks, insisted that safety came first, and the marines had agreed.

Ratzlov gave a sigh. "Well, I do enjoy setting cannons off, what with those gun drills we get to do sometimes, but I really don't want to be in a battle. Frankly, with those marines and their weapons on board, it's really no contest."

"Don't get cocky." Jared Hoffman cut in, pointedly. "If the other ship aims right, they can do us a load of damage, with or without the marines."

Jared Hoffman was of Italian descent, from New York City. He'd worked on sailboats his entire life and, like Richards, had spent most of that time studying the legendary 'wind-jammers,' as he'd called them. Undoubtedly, this was how he'd landed the position of Bosun.

"How's Cortez?" Jared asked, turning to Davey.

Ratzlov grinned. "Harley put him on a half a vicodin, so his main problem is not being able to climb."

Hoffman rolled his eyes. "Oh to be young again." He mused. "Rock climbers . . . crazy breed."

Katryn raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and your point is?"

"Speakin' o' climbin', who's on the main mast topyard lookout?" Richards cut in, before there could be bloodshed.

"Redbird." Hoffman informed him.

Richards nodded. Lieutenant Carlos Redbird, a six-foot Sioux Indian from Oklahoma, was one of the Navy SEALS. He had 20/10 vision and could spot anything, the moment it appeared on the horizon. They were in good hands with him on duty.

Katryn looked up. "Is he wearing army camo and combat boots again?"

Hoffman laughed. "I think so." He replied, shaking his head. Hoffman, like Richards, was not one to break the dress-code rules, so both were dressed in the usual clothing for the time period, with the exception of the shoes, of course.

Katryn pointed over at crewman, Duane Marco, who was wearing the usual 18th Century clothes, with the exception of his cowboy boots and hat. "See? I told you. The Village People. All we need is the construction worker."

Richards sighed. "Frankly I'm surprised Davey's not in 'is fancy leather jacket."

Ratzlov grinned, looking guilty. "It was a bit warm out for the leather." He remarked, pointedly.

Katryn frowned. The temperature was only at 75 degrees and the breeze was cool. "Are you hot?" She asked, eyeing his slightly flushed face.

Looking as if he'd been caught, Davey sighed. "It's a little warm in the sun."

"Bull." Katryn retorted flatly, touching his forehead. "How long have you been like this?"

Ratzlov sighed. "Three or four days."

"Let's go." Katryn ordered, giving him a push.

Behind them, Richards and Hoffman exchanged an unsettled look.


Down in the sick berth, Katryn removed the thermometer from Davey's mouth and checked it.

"Well?" He asked.

"102.6." She informed him. "So much for nothing. Did you get the Malaria shot?"

Ratzlov gave a guilty look. "I'm allergic to it." He pointed out.

"Flu shot?"

"Not really."

"Davey!" She complained, giving him a brain-duster. "How could you!?"

Ratzlov closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his head. "Owww." He groaned.

Katryn sighed, pulling out a tongue depressor. "Say ah."

"Ugh." He muttered, as she checked his throat.

"Ew." Katryn remarked, making a face. "You had garlic toast for breakfast, didn't you?"

"Well yes, but it didn't stay down too long." Ratzlov informed her.

"Ah, I see." Katryn replied, raising an eyebrow. "Fever, sore throat, headache, nausea. . . . Is there anything else you neglected to mention?"

Davey sighed in defeat. She had him, and he knew it. "Everything hurts, and I've been having chills and coughing spells."

"Any trouble breathing?"

"A little."

"Wheezing?"

"No."

"Are you coughing anything up?"

"Besides breakfast?"

"David!" She scolded.

"No."

"How long have you been throwing up?"

"Just this morning." He told her. "I was going to come see you or Jess, later today about it. I was waiting until I got off duty."

Katryn nodded. He was telling the truth. For some reason, she could always tell when someone lied to her.

"So what's the verdict?" He asked, looking glum.

She pulled out her stethoscope. "Give me some deep breaths."

Davey did as he was told and chewed his lip, waiting for a response. "Well?"

"Could be the flu, could be malaria." She informed him. "Either way, you're in bed for a while. Get your stuff. You stay in here for at least a day or two. I'll give you some amoxicillin. You take one, twice a day."

"You going to tell the Captain?"

"Have to." She answered, wearily. "We'll have to get Hendricks and Miklos to do extra shifts, with both you and Cortez down."

"That's not going to make Levitson happy." Ratzlov remarked, sighing. "You know him and Hendricks don't get along too well."

Peter Levitson, the Quartermaster, was from Israel, and for some strange reason, he and Hendricks had clashed with each other. Although neither of them had ever mentioned why, there was no mistaking the friction between them.

"Levitson doesn't have a choice." Katryn reminded him. "We're down two Officers, now."

"What's up?" Jesse asked, walking over.

"How's Cortez?" Katryn returned.

"Sleeping." Jesse answered. "What's with Mr. Rats-Love?"

Ratzlov gave him a flat look. "Bite me." He retorted. He was well used to Jesse's teasing by now, and took it in stride.

"Didn't get a flu shot and couldn't get the malaria shot." She explained.

"Dumb move, man." Jesse scolded.

Ratzlov sighed. "You know, sometimes that flu shot isn't worth a crap, to start with."

"True, but sometimes, it helps." Katryn reminded him. "I'll go tell the Captain, Jess'll get you settled in."

"Yeah, no problem." Jesse replied, easily. "Cortez could use some company, and who better to join him here, than his very own roommate?"

Ratzlov rolled his eyes. He and Cortez were not only roommates, but rather close friends, and would have kept each other company, anyway.

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Back up on the Quarterdeck, Richards was fuming. "Ah, I don' believe it!"

"I thought everyone was supposed to have been vaccinated before we left!" Hendricks spat out.

"Yeah, didn't they even check him?" Hoffman asked.

"Davey's allergic to the malaria vaccine and the flu shot was suggested, but not enforced." Katryn informed them. "They needed his experience and overlooked the allergy."

"So it could just be the flu." Miklos put in. "It's not as if there's many mosquitos here."

"Mosquitos are everywhere." Levitson argued. "Besides, malaria is pretty common in this time period."

"So's influenza." Hendricks pointed out, defending Miklos.

"Look, Jesse is going to do a blood test, so we'll know for sure." Katryn interrupted.

"In the meantime, Hendricks, check the rest o' the crew fer symptoms. Sometimes ye can still get sick, even wi' the shots. Mr. Miklos, ye 'ave the watch. I'll be in my cabin."

"Yes sir." The marines replied, going about their duties.

Katryn looked up to the main mast top-yard. "I'll just see how Redbird's doing." She remarked, headed for the ratlines.

"Whatever excuse you can find to climb the mast." Miklos quipped.

"Hey, he's been up there for three hours and doesn't know what's going on!" Katryn pointed out. "Somebody should tell him."

Hoffman watched her get into a climbing harness and start to climb up. "Just be sure you don't follow Cortez's example!" He shouted after her. "We only have one surgeon!"

"Your concern is overwhelming!" Katryn shouted back, flatly.

At the top-yard, Redbird gave her a hand up, and she quickly clipped her harness to the safety rope. Like herself, Redbird was also clipped to the rope. Richards, knowing the stories of sailors, who fell from the topyard, or from any of the sails, for that matter, had passed an order that all men, or woman who climbed the ratlines, or ropes, on the masts, were all required to wear climbing harnesses and be clipped to a safety rope, in the event of accident. Being rock climbers by nature, Cortez and Katryn didn't usually clip in until they reached the top. This was frowned on, and Katryn felt a twinge of guilt, remembering Cortez's fall, earlier. She vowed she would always remind herself to clip in before she started to climb, from now on.

"What's going on down there?" Redbird asked, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "I saw Cortez go down. Is he alright?"

Katryn nodded. "Bad sprain." She informed him. She'd liked Redbird from the start, and found him to be strikingly good-looking, but then, she'd always had a liking for Native Americans. Although, no matter how good-looking Redbird was, it was Jesse's wit and style that had won her heart. Of all the men on the ship who were her dear friends, none held as high esteem as Jesse Davidson did, with her. They were the perfect team. . . . although, neither was ready to admit it.

"See anything besides clouds?" Katryn asked, looking around.

"Saw some dolphins a while ago." Redbird answered, with a shrug. "No other ships yet."

"Maybe we went back to prehistoric times and they haven't invented them yet." Katryn suggested, almost seriously.

Redbird laughed. "Haven't seen any dinosaurs yet, either." He commented.

"Well of course not, silly!" Katryn argued. "We're in the middle of the ocean!"

"Some dinosaurs swam in the ocean." He defended.

Katryn shrugged. "Maybe we're in the Twilight Zone then. . . . or the Bermuda Triangle?" She hummed the theme of the Twilight Zone show.

Redbird shook his head. "You read too many of those unsolved mysteries, and we're not even near the Triangle. We're in the North Atlantic!" He retorted, with a snort. "So what brings you up here? I don't think it's to argue about the view."

"Ratzlov is sick." Katryn announced with a sigh. "Could be malaria or the flu. Either way, he's not doing so good."

"Ah." Redbird nodded. "I thought that sounded like him coughing, last night. I was going to ask Cortez about it, but he never made it up here."

"Anyway, we're down two Officers, for at least a day or two. As soon as Cortez can get up on crutches, he can at least do half shifts, provided he's not on his feet too long."

Redbird had stopped listening, and was tilting his head, frowning.

"What?" Katryn asked, also frowning.

"Listen." Redbird whispered.

The two were quiet a second or two, before they heard it again. A faint explosion on the wind, followed by several more.

"Is that cannon-fire?" Katryn asked.

"North-northeast." Redbird informed her. "About six or seven miles away."

Katryn's eyes widened. "Another ship?"

"More than one, by the sound of that gunfire." Redbird told her, before turning toward the fighting top below, where his Mexican comrade, Sebastian Gonzalez, was posted.

Redbird gave a whistle. "Gonzalez! We've got cannon-fire, seven miles nor-northeast! Tell Miklos and Hendricks to get the gun crews ready, just in case!"

"Aye!" Gonzalez shouted back, before relaying the message.

"Don't you think that's a bit drastic?"

"We're sailing under a black flag, KC." Redbird pointed out. "They're bound to assume we're pirates. We have to be able to defend ourselves." He shook his head. "I knew we should have gone with another color."

"Do pirates wear army camo?" Katryn asked, motioning to his outfit.

Redbird rolled his eyes. "Probably not, but they just may dress like you there, especially with that scrub cap of yours."

She raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather I just took it off and showed them all my purple hair?!"

"You'd better get down, anyway." Redbird told her, pointedly. "This wind is blowing us right toward them and if they are in battle, and they do fire on us, we're gonna need you down there."

Katryn sighed. "I know this is your post and all, but be careful, okay? I don't wanna have to put you back together."

Redbird nodded and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. "Don't worry about me. I'm a SEAL, and I'm trained for this." He held up his sniper rifle.

Katryn returned the kiss and grappled herself back down the mainmast, to the deck below.

"What's 'e see?" Richards asked, turning toward the noise.

Katryn watched the ship ready the guns, then turned back toward the Captain. "Nothing yet, but he says this wind is pulling us that way, so we should see something before too long."

"All o' ye out'a uniform, change now!" Richards shouted. "If yer gonna be seen by another ship, yer gonna be dressed properly! Those who don' have time ta change, get out'a sight!"

"Got it." Katryn acknowledged, headed for the sick berth. Either way, she was going to need her field surgery kit, in the event that someone got hurt.

"What's going on?" Ratzlov asked, as she entered the sick berth. "Don't tell me we found another ship."

"More than one." She answered, readying her kit. "There's a battle northeast of us and we're headed that way."

"Ah, this sucks!" Ratzlov muttered, groaning. " We finally see another ship and I'm stuck here with Mohawk-Freak!"

"That's DR. Mohawk-Freak to you!" Jesse retorted, helping Katryn. "And if you'd gotten your shots, you wouldn't be like this, would you? Besides, if you think I'm staying here, you'd better think again! I'm going topside, so you'll just have to stay here, with your bestest buddy, all by your onesies!"

Ratzlov flipped him off, grumbling under his breath.

In the corner nearby, Cortez grinned, shaking his head. He too, was disappointed at being stuck in the sick berth, but he loved watching the exchange of insults between Ratzlov and Jesse. "Let us know how things go, and be careful!" He called after the two doctors, as they headed above decks, with their medical supplies.

"So now what do we do?" Ratzlov asked, laying back, with a sigh.

Cortez shrugged. "I got a deck of cards." He suggested, hobbling over to his friend's bedside.

"Why not?" Davey remarked, letting Cortez deal.

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Back up on the gun-deck, Jesse and Katryn were watching Hendricks and Miklos direct the men -already in their body armor as they made ready, the guns.

"Why do you suppose they call those things '24 pounders'?" Jesse remarked, mischievously, boldly proclaiming why the doctors were not in charge of the guns. "Those things must weigh about a ton, each."

Katryn shrugged. "Maybe that's what the cannonball weighs." She suggested, with a sly grin.

"They're called 'shot' not cannonballs! There's several different kinds!" Hendricks corrected.

"Oh, silly me." Katryn retorted, half serious. "Here I thought 'shot' was what they called the cannon, after someone else's cannonball hits it."

"Very funny." Hendricks remarked, flatly. "Isn't there a street corner you two can hang out?"

"No." They replied, with perfectly straight faces.

"Out, both of yous!" Hoffman scolded, feeling rather like he was keeping order on a kindergarten playground. "Go on, get lost!"

Hendricks just sighed and motioned for the gun crews to put their safety glasses and ear plugs in. Commands, from now on, to the gun crews, would be given through previously rehearsed hand signals.

Grinning, Katryn and Jesse headed for the main deck, just as they heard Gonzalez shouting, "Sails to the Northeast! Looks like three ships duking it out!"

"Keep the guns armed and ready, but don' open the gunports yet!" Richards shouted. "And get Redbird down 'ere, before they see 'im in tha' outfit!"

"Redbird says he doesn't have time to change, and he's waiting to see what the other ships are gonna do!" Gonzalez relayed.

Richards sighed. "Great, I'm runnin' a circus."

"You forgot the dancing clowns." Jesse chimed in.

Richards stared at Jesse's sleeveless tee-shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots. "No, they've just arrived." He managed to get out. "I thought I told ye ta change!"

"We didn't have time." Katryn answered, honestly. "We had to throw together the medical supplies, in case somebody gets hurt."

"Nobody told me to change." Jesse muttered, under his breath, pointedly.

By now, all the people on deck had a clear view of the three ships, firing on each other.

Navy SEAL, Lieutenant George Johnson, had his binoculars to his eyes. "Looks like two French frigates, 32 guns on one deck each, and one English frigate, 40 guns on one deck, name; Indefatigable." He announced. "All taking heavy damages." George was a 5'10" black man from Mississippi, who also worked as a lookout, on opposite shifts from Redbird.

"If we can see them, they can see us." Richards reminded them. "I want all on the ready, in case we have ta fight!"

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