Talk Like a Pirate Day – BSG Style!

Disclaimer: I do not own Battlestar Galactica

Author's Note: My first BSG fic. I hope it's okay.

Laura Roslin, president of the Twelve Colonies, and now, apparently, that frakking ball of rock called Earth, took off her glasses and sighed, looking at the paperwork spread out all over her desk. Reports were coming in from all over the fleet, and they weren't good. Since they had arrived at Earth two weeks ago, people were by turns depressed, furious, confused, and hopeless. Some of them were calling for Roslin's resignation. Some were calling for Adama's resignation. Tylium production had completely shut down, as had all work on the coffee-making ship. People were either listless or prone to rioting. In other words, all hell had broken loose.

Laura looked up at the sound of the door to Bill's quarters (no, their quarters, now) opening. Admiral William Adama walked in, shoulders slumped.

"Hey," he greeted her, as he shrugged his jacket off and collapsed on the couch.

"Hey," she replied, smiling at him.

"Was your day as bad as mine?" he asked.

She picked up a stack of papers. "The Gemenese Traveler is threatening to go off on their own, Tylium production has completely shut down, there have been coffee riots on the Rising Star, and there's a small, but growing contingent of militants who are calling for an attack on the Cylon base star."

Bill sighed. "Battle fatigue. And now the disappointment of Earth. It's too much for them. We need something to rally the fleet. Boost morale."

"What are we supposed to do? Throw a party? Welcome to Earth?" She snorted.

"Mr. Gaeta said he found something in the data brought back from the last recon mission. Helo and he are working on something now that they think might help. They're going to report here when they've finished collating the data."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Bill called out.

The door opened, and in came Felix Gaeta and Karl Agathon.

"Madam President. Admiral. We've finished putting together that report for you." Gaeta passed a file to Adama.

Adama took the papers and flipped through them, and passed them to Roslin. "Talk Like a Pirate Day? What is that?"

"We found some historical documents. Apparently several hundred years ago, pirates were a big problem on this world. But since then, the pirate culture has been romanticized to a degree that people made movies about them, wrote books about them, and even had a day set aside to celebrate them. People would dress up as pirates, and talk like them. Apparently they celebrated this holiday all over the world."

Roslin looked through the file. "Why would people want to emulate violent criminals?"

Helo spoke up, "Well, they sort of promoted a more fictionalized version of them. It was a way for them to escape reality, and just... have fun."

Roslin looked at the Admiral. "Sounds like just what the fleet needs right now."

Adama shrugged. "So say we all."

The next day, Admiral Adama walked into the CIC, and saw Gaeta with a wooden peg extending from the stump of his leg. He also had a stuffed animal that resembled a brightly colored bird attached to his left shoulder.

"Good work, Mr. Gaeta," Adama said, pulling out a black eye patch and pulling it on over his head. "Did you distribute the glossary of Pirate vocabulary to the crew?"

"Aye, cap'n. And I sent it out over the wireless to the rest of the ships. President Roslin will be here soon to address the Fleet."

"That's good. Argghh." Adama looked up to see his best friend of the last twenty years, Saul Tigh enter the CIC, and stop short as soon as he reached the dradis table. He stared at Adama and his newly acquired eye patch.

"What the frak is this? Are you mocking me?"

"Saul. Didn't you get the memo? Today is our First Annual Talk Like a Pirate Day Celebration. You're supposed to be wearing something piratey, you scurvy bilge-rat. Dee, get on the wireless and see if you can find Colonel Tigh a hat. A really big one."

Tigh scowled. "I don't have time for this nonsense. Caprica has a check-up with Doc Cottle today. Gonna have one of those ultrasounds. Doc says we might be able to see the sex of the baby --"

Adama spotted Roslin enter the CIC, and cut off his old friend. "Hold on a minute, Saul. The President's here. Argghh."

Bill hurried over to Laura, and said, "Madam President. You're not dressed like a pirate."

She eyed him. "Well, neither are you, really. Except for the eye patch." She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice. "Aren't you worried you might offend Colonel Tigh?"

"Nah. He's too wrapped up in the whole Cylon baby situation. Anyway, here, I got you something. He handed her what looked to be a folded up scarf. It was black with little skulls all over it.

She looked at it askance. "That's very thoughtful of you, Admiral, but you know, my hair will be growing back soon, and this...isn't quite my style."

Bill allowed himself a moment of sheer glee, reveling again in the knowledge that the Diloxin had worked, the cancer was gone, and he wasn't going to be losing Laura any time soon. Then he remembered there were piratey things to be accomplished.

"No, no, it's for the press conference. You have to look like a proper pirate when you address the fleet." He helped her arrange the piratey head scarf over her wig. "Are you ready? The press is waiting in the wardroom."

"I don't know how I let myself get talked into this," Laura sighed. Then she spotted Gaeta. "Mr. Gaeta, what an interesting costume."

Gaeta grinned. "Do you like it," he asked, raising his leg slightly. "It's called a 'peg-leg'. It's awesome! I can get around so much better now! Um, sir. Argghh."

Leaving the staff to their duties, Bill and Laura headed for the wardroom. All of a sudden, Roslin stopped and started to giggle.

"Oh," she gasped. "It's bad enough when I get the giggles before a debate or something, but how am I going to keep a straight face during this?"

They continued toward the wardroom, Laura attempting to stifle her laughter. "Just think about something serious. Like cylons or the fact that Earth turned out to be a desolate wasteland."

"Bill, the whole point of this is to help people forget about those things."

"Oh, right. Arghhh."

The press waited expectantly as President Roslin took the podium, and launched into her Pirate Day speech. They were all slightly starteled, when she started off yelling.

"You will listen to me! LISTEN! The other ships will still be looking to us, to the Black Pearl -- er, that is, the Galactica, to lead, and what will they see? Frightened bilgerats aboard a derelict ship? No, no they will see free men and freedom! And what the enemy will see, they will see the flash of our cannons, and they will hear the ringing of our swords, and they will know what we can do! By the sweat of our brow and the strength of our backs and the courage in our hearts! Gentlemen, hoist the colors!"

Leaving the podium, she joined Bill and they left the reporters in a state of confusion.

"You know, that didn't make a lot of sense. What's the Black Pearl? And what does it mean to 'hoist the colors'?"

"I don't know. I got the speech from an old Earth historical document. The film was very fragmented, so I wasn't able to watch the whole thing so I don't know what exactly it was about, except that the title had something to do with pirates, but this speech seemed quite rousing and inspiring..."

"And piratey?" Bill added, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Exactly. What shall we do now?"

"There's a party going on down in the Officers' Mess. Plenty of grog to go around." He offered her his arm

She took it and smiled at him. "Lead the way."

"Arggh."