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Marilyn woke up the next morning and didn't move from her bed. She stared across the room at her roommate. Minerva was her name, if she remembered correctly. She was asleep with her ass in the air and one arm hanging off the side of her bed, her face smushed on her pillow. She snored loudly. Her hair was a mess of raven black wavy locks, same color as her tail, and her fur was medium grey, with white on her hands and feet that made it look like she was wearing gloves and boots. She also had markings under her eyes and over her mouth.

Marilyn slowly got out of the bed, feeling sore but strong. And hungry as hell. She quietly inched towards the door and went out, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light, and then walking above deck. Most of the crew were already going about their business. She immediately saw Jim, who was conversing with a rock-like man who stood at an alarming height. More than a foot taller than Jim, and he was at least six feet tall. She moved away from them and ended up bumping into Amelia.

"Miss Marilyn." She said, blinking. "You're up rather early."

She looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. "I, uh, I'm just kinda, uh, hungry, uh, Madam."

Amelia nodded and smiled understandingly. "Not surprised. I'm assuming your leg is alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Go down to the galley and get some gruel. Then find Minerva and have her give you some more...appropriate clothing." Amelia crinkled her nose slightly as she looked smutty Marilyn up and down before turning on her heel and leaving. Marilyn, though appreciative, scrunched up her face at the thought of eating gruel. The watered down porridge or rice always tasted especially awful to her, though it was awful to begin with. She had to wonder why the crew didn't get something more hearty. She shrugged and mumbled to herself, continuing to the galley anyhow. There was a young man of a reptilian species there, chopping up various ingredients. He glanced her way and grunted.

"Bowls in the cupboard. Drink it."

Marilyn said nothing as she followed his instructions, unhappily drinking the, in her mind, foul semi-liquid. She did admit it warmed her body and made her feel a bit stronger, though. Just as she finished Minerva walked in, her hair a mess and makeup from the night before smudged all over her face.

"This shit again?" She complained upon seeing the gruel. "You're a lazy ass cook, Jeff."

Jeff shrugged. "Well I cook it, so you eat it."

Minerva stared at him. He stared back. She then grabbed a purp and looked at the vat of disgusting gruel and knocked it over with one quick swipe, covering Jeff in it. Marilyn was so startled she dropped her bowl and stared. Minerva watched as Jeff stood there, seemingly in shock. She then smiled, bit into her purp, and walked out. Marilyn didn't hesitate to follow.

"H-Hey! You! Uh, Minerva?" Marilyn hobbled over to her. The young woman turned to her, looking her up and down, feline ears pointed in her direction. "Aye. O' 'e be, lass?"

She cleared her throat. "Marilyn. I-uh, I'm you're, uh, roo-"

"Blimey! Oh yeah, da kid da Admiral brought on. Found yew in a barrel, aye?"

Marilyn blinked, trying to place the accent, and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Gawdon Bennet! Fawmal, aren't you? Names Minerva, friends call me Min." She turned and started towards the stairs that led to the halls again. Marilyn followed her, and they ended up in their room. From her bedside table Minerva took a few pairs of pants and shirts and handed them to Marilyn.

"Lor' luv a duck! Sorry, couldn't find any shoes fer you, but I fnk you'll manage. Since Robby died ov tetanus, Madam 'as been keepin' all da nails an' such fngs in 'er stateroom ter avoid any uvver incidents. Know what I mean?" She handed the clothes to Marilyn, who blinked.

"I'm sorry, but I can scarcely understand you."

Minerva blinked, then grinned. "Lawd above. I guess yer not familiar wiv us cockney folk, are you?, innit."

"...Cockney?"

Marilyn found the word odd and, in the darker depths of her mind, a perverted sort of funny. Minerva nodded, motioning for Marilyn to undress while turning around to give her some privacy while she did so. Marilyn started undressing, making sure to keep her bangles on.

"Lawd above! David Hockney. Started in London, or, rarfer, outside ov it. Sort of. The kind I speak, at least. There's me cockney an' "true cockney", spoken by da rubbish inside da city. They say mine's just a whole lot ov jumbled up slang, but we've got aaahr own bloody alphabet so they can shove i' up their asses what they fnk ov it., innit."

She shrugged, turning when she assumed Marilyn was dressed, which she was. She wore a button up blouse and black pants. Minerva then sat her wordlessly on her bed and took out a small knife, cleaning Marilyn's dirt filled nails without asking permission as Marilyn took the time to decipher some of the more un-understandable pieces of Minerva's unfamiliar language. She decided if she chewed three packs of gum at the same time and made up a few words, she might come close to speaking it. Though, by the scars that lightly decorated the woman's arms, and the one across her cheek, she judged saying this out loud, even jokingly, might not end well. She finished cleaning her nails and then, with quick motions, chopped each one so that is had a clean, smooth edge.

"Awright geeezzaa! Thee should take be'er care ov yaaahrself. Thee can take a shaaahr later tonight, it's on da lowest floor. Till then, by da looks ov you, yew should just relax. I'll make sure Madam doesn't 'ry an' push anythin' on yew today. Sorted mate."

That time, Marilyn could understand her. Mostly. She nodded. "I will, thank you."

Minerva just smiled and went over to her side of the room, taking out a makeup case with a small mirror and quickly cleaning up her face and applying some light makeup before getting up and dressing in boots and slacks with a vest over a blue dress shirt. There was the Royal Navy patch on her shoulder, showing her rank as a First Class Rigger.

"Why are you the gunner if your badge says rigger?" She asked. Minerva glanced at it. "I didn't sign up soon enough." Then she began to leave. Marilyn jumped up, clenching her teeth as a sharp pain traveled up her leg.
"Wait, please, signed up for what?"

She remembered hearing Admiral's handpicked their crews. Unless...

Minerva smiled sympathetically. "Awright geeezzaa .We're at war, dear girl." She then left. Marilyn sat with wide eyes, on her bed, clutching the sheets.

She was on a warship.


Armed with a towel and Minerva's ration of soap and shampoo-she said she could just coat herself in perfume- Marilyn traveled down to the shower room with an extra pair of clothes. There was only a 8 foot wall separating the girls from the boys. She entered the girls, alone. She turned on the faucet, thankful that she wasn't limited on shower time, either. The water came from space, where it was actually part of the atmosphere. The Etherium was both water and air, letting the ships that traveled its vast expansion seeming to float in air, but in actuality were always on water. It was almost...breathable water, actually. She turned on the faucet and stepped under the stream after undressing, glad for the chilly but refreshing water. She saw the dirt, dust, grime and everything else she'd collected on her body over the past weeks slide off her and into the drain. She made sure to scrub herself near raw, and used every bit of shampoo on her matted hair. By the end of her shower she was clean, her deep olive skin glistening. She sat down, taking a brush Minerva had lent her, and began to take care of her hair.

That's when Jim walked in.

She froze, staring with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, aware of her blatantly bare body. Jim didn't seem to notice the first minute, holding a towel in one hand and his rationed shampoo and soap. He began towards one of the showers. Then, once he did notice, he seemed to turn into a popsicle. His muscles became oddly pronounced and he slowly looked her up and down. She stared.

"What the hell are you doing?" She said. That was all it took to make the young man jump and seem to truly realize what he was doing.

"I-uh-you-I'm s-s-so sorry miss-" His cheeks turned bright red and he booked it out of the room. Marilyn swallowed and gasped, realizing she'd stopped breathing. She quickly finished brushing her hair and threw on her clothes, not paying mind to the fact that her still damp body allowed the white blouse to make her breasts quite visible as she grabs her things and ran straight from the showering room to her room.


Jim would have skipped his shower if he didn't know his roommate would practically murder him for it. After doing the bare minimum in the realm of scrubbing, he threw on a pair of pants, forgetting the rest in his rush to get back to his room. Once there he threw everything on his bed and fell on top of it, staring at the ceiling. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. If she said anything to Amelia, she'd skin him alive and happily make a coat out of it. He'd just saw a girl-who, he feared, might be a minor-naked and stared at her for at least a full minute. He was either going to hell, or being called to Amelia's stateroom. He wasn't sure which was worse.

He forced himself to slow his panicked breathing when he heard the doorknob turn and saw his roommate walk in. Onyx Arrow was late Mr. Arrow's nephew and his best friend. They'd met in the academy, and Onyx was one year older. Upon graduation Amelia had immediately taken him on as her First Mate. He was also Jim's First Mate when they operated their small ship. The Cragorian bore a close resemblance to his uncle, but striking differences. Hair, for instance. It was black as night and pulled back in a ponytail that reached his shoulders, and he had earrings-something his uncle greatly disapproved of. He'd once told Jim he'd gotten them when he was around sixteen-only a few months before the Treasure Planet voyage, actually-just to piss him off. It was rather amusing.

"Hey Jim." He said, bending to avoid hitting the doorway and tossing his uniform jacket to the side. Measuring a 7'6, a height even remarkable for Cragorian's, Onyx was pure muscle. He could easily pick up a man and throw him a mile if he so wished. He was not one you wanted to get angry.

Thankfully, he was the definition of gentle giant.

"Hey." He mumbled. Onyx sat down at the desk that was obviously too small for him and began writing on something. When he noticed his usually over-chatty roommate was silent, he looked over. "The hell happen?"

Jim looked over. "Nothin'."

He saw Onyx's face harden, scrutinizing him, his amber eyes making Jim feel edgy. "You always say nothing when something happened."

"What are you, my mother?"

"Yes. I didn't want you to find out this way, but I am your mother." Said Onyx dully, rolling his eyes and then giving Jim a serious look. Jim sighed, looking back at the ceiling.

"Remember the girl I told you we found? Marilyn?"

Onyx nodded. "Street rat that turned up in a barrel. Dirty as can be and had a bullet in her calf. Looked like a gypsy."

"Somethin' like that, yeah." Jim sighed. "Well, I kinda walked into the woman's section of the shower area and..."

"Oh holy shit, you saw her naked!" Onyx looked shocked and impressed. "I don't condone it, but that's hilarious."

"I-It was hilarious it was embarrassing." Jim flopped around, his voice muffled by his pillow. "I just stood there staring at a naked woman."

"Did she ask you to leave?"

"Well, eventually she said, "what the hell are you doing?" and I kinda just ran."

Onyx stared a moment before slapping his knee and bursting into bodacious laughter. "Oh Lord, that's hilarious! That, that," he turned in his chair to continue writing. "That's just great."

"Shuddup." Jim sighed, face-palming. After that they relaxed, Onyx doing paperwork, Jim lazily staring into space, trying not to blush every time he thought of Marilyn. Then the ship rocked, violently, throwing Onyx from his chair and Jim from his bed, leaving them in askew positions. "What the bloody hell?!" Onyx exclaimed, jumping up with surprising agility for a man of his stature, grabbing his jacket and sprinting out the door. Jim stood and followed him, getting thrown into the wall as the ship jolted to the side. His eyes widened with realization when it came to mind that they were being attacked. He ran back to his room and grabbed his laser rifle, cocking it and then running to the deck.

There Amelia was shouting orders. Bullets flew through the air. Men and women ran about madly, shooting guns, loading cannons, and fighting the pirates that had grappled them.

"Mr. Hawkins! Watch your head and shoot whom you can!" Amelia barked, taking out a pirate with one nasty punch. Jim winced for him before jumping into the middle of combat, shooting down one pirate, then spinning around and clinging his bayonet to another's sword. The pirate sneered. Jim growled and let out a wild man cry that surprised his opponent, running forward and slamming him into the wall. Winded, the pirate fell to the ground. Jim seized his sword and drove him through, then went on to tend to the other fiends.

Halfway through the bloodbath, Jim was tackled to the ground. The pirate lifted his dagger, aiming at Jim's face. He looked at him, pokerfaced, heart racing. He'd been trained to not show emotion, to keep his face stone, so that whomever might strip his life from him might not get as much joy from it. He inhaled deeply, willing all the sounds around him to go away.

He was ready to die.

But the pirate wasn't.

Jim jumped when the pirates limp body fell on top of his. He shoved it back, noticing the fighting was going down. His ship was winning. He looked to the pirate, his breath catching in his throat. His face...there was a gaping hole in it. Burned black as charcoal, all his features gone. It was like a morbid donut. He whirled his head around, catching the eye of Marilyn. He instinctively blushed. She stared at him, fear etched into her face, and then ran away, back to her room, no doubt. He quickly regained himself and through the body overboard, watching it float into oblivion as the sounds of the fighting faded into nothing. Wiping his brow, he looked behind him. Few were injured. Several were dead. The doctors were tending to them. He wasn't needed.

He followed Marilyn.