Disclaimer: I do not own Treasure Planet – its characters, plot, setting, music – NOTHING, ZILCH, NADA! I only own my own plot, terribly thought of alien and planet names, and characters. If I use any songsor references to stories in this fanfic, I don't own those either.
A/N: Ummm...please read and review? Seems to be a tough crowd to please out here..-_-;..'ahem'
Anyway, here we go.
Chapter 2
Now we're back. Our next story is about a recent escapee from the Interstellar Jail, former pirate Bernardo . Charged multiple times for theft, murder, bribery, and kidnapping, the convict was only a week away from taking a seat on the electric chair when his cell was blasted open. Somehow, despite being guarded in his cell 24/7, Lombardi had attained explosives that he used to break free from his cell. In the midst of all the racket he'd caused, Lombardi stole a longboat, regularly used by a commissioner to inspect the Jail's conditions each week, and was able to steer himself out of reach of the authorities. Eye-witnesses claim to have seen him leaving in the direction of Montressor. Officials at the port-city have been warned to keep a lookout for the man, lest he cause harm to the families that live there. Citizens are advised to keep their homes locked and to keep from wandering the streets at night. The Intergalactic Police informed the station that the man will be captured quickly and immediately. Now,on to our weather forecast...
Jim tuned the anchorman's voice out as he pondered over what the news meant for him and his mother. The last time pirates had arrived in Montressor wasn't something either of them could forget. Though overall, it had brought on good fortune for them and the inn, they'd both rather avoid having their home ransacked again. It was never fun to have your safety as well as others' put in jeopardy. The other worry was the why. Why any pirate would come to Montressor in the first place. News of Treasure Planet had spread like wildfire, amongst civilians and crooks alike. Why such desperate feats. If Lombardi had had another week to live and was as crafty as the anchorman had claimed, he could have planned out a smoother escape, without leaving a trace of his escape, let alone of where he was headed. The only conclusion Jim could come up with was that whatever the man had left for, it was of dire importance, so much so that he'd gamble his life on it.
He glanced over at Captain Amelia. She had continued playing with her children after the anchorman had finished covering the pirate story, but she still seemed distracted by the news. No doubt she'd be willing to discuss later, after lights out, when her children and the customers were soundly asleep, when she, her husband, Jim and his mother usually sat together after the long day, just to talk. Being the quietest part of the day, it was the only time any of them could sit down and take a breather. Speaking of which...
"Jim?..Jim...JIM!" Jim was startled out of his thoughts as his mother waved a hand in front of his face. "Huh? Oh, sorry Mom," he mumbled as he got a hold of himself. Now wasn't the time to stare into nothing, not when they were in the middle of the summer rush. Summer on Montressor made the port a hotspot for intergalactic tourists and students on break. He 'd gotten caught up watching the news in the middle of his "five-minute" break. He blinked a few times before getting up from his seat, grabbing his empty glass. He looked up at his Mom a bit apologetically as he waited for her requests. Orders were more like it, but it wasn't as if she had any choice but to do so. Even with Ben's help, the place could get chaotic if the staff wasn't fast enough. She looked at him a bit exasperatedly before continuing with what she had to say. "We need someone to do the dishes in the back. B.E.N. is caught up preparing everyone's orders, so could you go and pick up a barrel of fresh purps and flour from the market when you're done?" He nodded with a, "Sure, Mom,"and headed straight for the kitchen. Before he passed through the swinging doors that lead to the back, he checked the time on the wall-clock above the entrance. 3:45 P.M. At that moment, if Jim had strained his ears enough, he would have heard a ship's foghorn rumbling in the distance, marking my Antonia's arrival.
Back at the Spaceport
Toby and his son threw out the lines and pulled us into the harbor. Down below, Abigail had pulled her chain on cue, allowing the old ship to bellow over the chaos of the place, on and off the ship. In the meantime, I had already started filing everyone into some form of a line to finalize all of their paperwork. I sighed as the row seemed to have no end. Of course, it had an end – I'd done this forty-nine times before – but the job didn't get any less tiresome as time wore on. I guess the best place to start is the beginning.
I walked up to Jake, age 12, a Carnivora a few inches shorter than me, and a few years younger. He was already in his performing clothes, as all the others were. The bright blue vest and the red pants suited the black panther-like kid. He had a wide build and you could trace out the borders of each and every one of his well-trained muscles. He was the first non-crew member to join our troupe, though he looked like he'd be strong enough to help out on the ship soon. He held his wooden staffs in his right and his lighter fluid in his left. The rest of his belongings lay within his backpack. I checked that they were accounted for in his papers. Then I asked him the standard questions.
"Any snacks on you this time Jake?" I asked. "And don't try to sneak any meat past again. I think we both would like to avoid the incident back on Celeste." He shook his head vigorously. "No ma'am! No food on me this time. Just a box of matches in my pocket, I swear." He tried to hold his hands up before him but found some difficulty since his hands were full. I allowed myself a gentle smile as I pushed the swinging staffs safely away from my face. "At ease. I believe you." I handed him his papers and showed him which was which. "This is your license to perform in the square, your membership as part of our troupe, and these are for customs. Captain Charlie will take you to the customs office where you'll show them your supplies and papers. Don't forget to show them your matches, too. Then, you are going to wait for the rest of us with the Captain in the square. Understand?" Jake rolled his eyes. "I know what to do already. How many times do we have to go through with this whole inspection thing?" I ruffled the fur on his head. "As many times as we need to. Now go take your place next to the gate. No going anywhere without the Captain." Jake sighed but reluctantly obeyed and walked off.
Next were the Amazing Akio and his family. The Mantisi were all in their usual Japanese themed costumes. Akio held his small "chest of wonders" before him while his wife, Ayu, carried their old clay pot and a suitcase with all of their clothes and belongings. Their four children were carrying the props for their latest skit, "Crossing the Stars" – a few extra costumes, a fan, a small model ship, and a couple of wooden swords. Just hearing them practice on board, I knew that their acts would be extraordinary as always. Inspect everything, ask questions, check,check, check, papers and go.
Then Ludwig, the Giant Centipede, at least that's what everyone on the ship called him since whenever he tried to correct us we couldn't really make out his proper name or species. No one on the ship knew his language but communication was possible for the most part via gestures and a drawing tablet and marker he carried around. He didn't seem to mind the new name we'd given him. In each of his twenty-some hands, he held a random object he'd brought along with him from some planet or another, ranging from items as big and dangerous as a bowling ball and chainsaw to as small and almost harmless as a marble and butter knife. Though juggling was an old trick throughout the galaxy, passersby couldn't help but marvel at the giant tossing and catching so many things without a second glance. His papers took a little longer than the others to organize. Authorities were always paranoid over the Ludwig's heavier juggling props.
After that was Jadev, our Fortune-Teller. He wore a maroon and gold set of turban and vest. It made the Pychna look somewhat less terrifying. To make a Pychna not look terrifying was probably an impossible task. With the upper-half of a python and the body of a tarantula, a Pychna could be one Hell of a nightmare, especially if you got it into a foul mood. Contrary to his appearance, though, Jadev was actually one of the more considerate members of our troupe, as he was the most gentlemanly being I'd ever met. He bowed his head slightly as I let him go join the others by the door, careful not to drop his crystal ball and tote from his hairy upper appendages.
The list went on and on. The blue pixie-like Harplings had a comedy act. Nessie, the giant serpent, was clad as an old viking ship with supplies and the makings of a set on her deck, while the giant-orange-frog-like Coqui family rode on her back, ready to perform their little opera before out very eyes. Scottie, another Carnivora that resembled an old Scottish Terrier, stood with his bagpipes wheezing at his side, a messenger bag on the other. When we were tight on food, he could make some mean 'haggis, neaps, and tatties' that made anyone's mouth water, though whenever he was questioned as to what exactly he used to make them, he always answered, "Bettr' left unsaid." The last of the more experienced part of our group needing inspection were Boris and Adam, our stand-ins on the crow's nest at the gun when Abigail and I were occupied with something else on the ship – namely when a tussle started amongst our passengers below deck. Boris, another human around hie early thirties, carried his guitar on his back, a tambourine in one hand and a bag in the other, while Adam, Jake's older brother and Boris's best friend, carried their trombone and trumpet. Check, check, and check!
Then I had to take care of the more troublesome ones. These were the newer troupers that we'd picked up maybe a dozen or less trips ago. They consisted mostly of families with younger children or teenagers, or more elderly members, though by all means not to be thought of as frail, especially when they were in possession of a cane or walker. This was where I earned my keep, refereeing their bickering and whining, taking the time to hunt down whatever missing items they were complaining about leaving in their cabins or under their hammocks, or keeping them from starting another bloody fight involving makeshift weaponry. There was the occasional request to try and translate what one of the older blokes was saying when they tried to speak something in their native tongue, but I was as fluent as a barnacle in whatever languages they spoke. Spanish? Sure. English. Positive! Arabic, French, even your run-of-the-mill Italian! But Flatula? Shrieks and Caws? Hissing and snapping? Not exactly a cup of tea.
Inspection took the better part of two hours, give or take a few minutes. I absentmindedly reached for my pocket-watch as I finished with the Finns, but found nothing but thin air. "What – ?" I turned to my makeshift stage where I'd left my stall's supplies. They still sat there, ever at peace, but my bag was no where to be seen. Only then did I realize that I'd left my pouch on the floor of my cabin. "Oh bother," I muttered to myself. A voice rang out in front of me. "Looking for something?"
My tan leather satchel hung before my eyes. As I recognized the voice, a smile of relief crept onto my face. "You wonderful scoundrel." I reached for my bag but Charlie pulled it away from me, taunting me as always. "I believe there's another way of greeting your bag's savior," he insisted. "If it weren't for me, you'd have to run all the way below deck for the umpteenth time." He smirked as I grabbed for my bag again. As opposed to what most little sisters would do, though, I laughed. Dealing with his teasing was a relief compared to going through a line of whiny land-lubbers. He knew as well as I did that a bit of nonsense and fun was the only thing that could keep me from going mad on this ship. I continued to try and reach for my bag with arms inadequate for the task. "Charlie give it back! If anything happens to my stuff –!"
"If you want it so badly, you'll have to catch me first!" He ran off, my bag flailing behind him. I followed him in hot pursuit, bubbling with excitement at the challenge. We ran past Abigail as she came back up from the engine room with her wood, nails, and carving supplies and our shared messenger bag. Once she saw the game we were playing, though, she dumped her things on top of mine without a second's thought and joined the chase. "What are you two running around for?" she called from behind me. "Charlie's got my bag!" I explained as I jumped over a short crate he'd dodged, though I still I sounded more delighted than anything. For the whole of our trip, none of us had had time to enjoy ourselves so much. The troupers watched the parade in interest, mostly out of concern over when they could get on with their own business. Boris and Adam were cheering us on though, with whoops, hoots, and guffaws. They were all used to such comical scenes on our part. The ship wasn't quite complete without them.
Finally, Abigail and I cornered Charlie at the mast. He'd thought he'd gotten away, but to his dismay, we'd gotten smart on him. Abigail had "chased" him to his hiding place while I sneaked after him, fooling him into a false sense of security. I tackled pinned him down to the floorboards and ripped my bag out of his hands. We were all out of breath form laughing and running around. In between gasps, I tried to get out what I had to say. "If you...you take...my bag one more bloody time..the only things you'll be able to charm will be rat-pups at the bottom of the sewer!" Charlie was still in shock from my pummeling him to the ground. He couldn't say anything yet. "What's the matter?" Abby asked. "Wind knocked out of you?"
"You could say that," he answered. He put his hand out. "Good game." I smirked and shook his hand before pulling him up onto his feet. "Trying to save face now are we?" I asked. "Whenever you win, you make sure to gloat to the world for the next week. And now you choose to be a good sport?"
"Exactly!" he said without hesitation, putting on his classic crooked smile. Abby and I both laughed and shook our heads. "For shame!" we said in unison, then burst into another fit of giggles.
Someone coughed from behind us. "Ahem." We turned around in the direction of the troupe. All of them were glaring at us impatiently. Mrs. Warbler, a Mikowla resembling a cockatoo had been the one to get our attention. "As much as I hate to interrupt your festivities," she started, but it was obvious she had no regrets at all in doing so. Her husband scoffed at how contrary from the truth her statement was. She continued, "I believe it is in the crew's best interest that we make our way to the docks now." I rolled my eyes as she finished. The Warblers were experts at lecturing others on how to do their jobs properly. If I wasn't first mate, I would've thrown them overboard ages ago, but one of Charlie's few admirable qualities as a Captain was his patience and how plentiful it could be in the presence of profit. He put on his most charming smile and addressed her immediately.
"Of course Madame Warbler. You are correct, as always." He turned to everyone else. "If you will please follow me, we will continue onto the dock and into customs. Once everything has been settled, which should only take a matter of minutes, we shall begin setting up in the town square."
He marched himself to the front of the line, giving off his classic 'Man-in-charge' aura. To anyone watching from the side lines, he would've been an impressive sight. Abby and I knew better. Charlie was probably the most excited to get off the ship. The faster he got it over with, the faster he could start looking for floozies. Abby sighed and looked at me. "Will that guy ever learn?" I laughed. "I doubt it." Looking over the others as Charlie led them away, my thoughts turned to more important matters. "But since he's ready to go, I guess we'd best be off too. We need to be the first to clear out of customs – ,"
"'And on to fliers and set up,' I know." she finished before sighing again. "I can't wait for this day to be over with." With that, she walked off to pick up her things and catch up with the rest. That was Abby for you. She was the one who complained the most between the three of us when it came to handling duties on and off the ship, but you could always rely on her. She'd never gone back on her word once in all the time I'd known her. To her, keeping a promise was worth more than a hundred drubloons, no matter how small or how drastic. If she threatened to punch you, she meant it, no matter the consequences.
She turned to face me as I gathered up my own supplies. "Meet you at the square at ten then?" she asked. I looked at my watch. It was close to half past five. Going through customs would be easy, but posting up the fliers around the city and advertising our arrival would take well past sundown. And let's not forget finding a place for everyone to bunk before then. "Will do," I replied as I slipped my watch into the depths of my bag once more. "Looks like we'll be setting up well into the night, huh?" Abby nodded. "We've got our work cut out for us tonight."
"But it'll all be worthwhile when the sun rises again," I replied, smiling once more. That had been our motto for the whole of our lives together. It was how us three had gotten through our days at the orphanage – how I'd even made it so far as to getting there in the first place. We'd never had it easy, but we had learned that eventually, hard times came to an end, and there would always be something to hope for. Keeping that in mind, I hurried up with my own belongings off the ship and onto a new adventure.
A Few Hours Later
I made a mental check over myself as I trudged down the last street of the city, or at least the last one I planned on seeing for the day. Let's see. Back: aching. Legs: heavy as lead. Head: pounding, but sill functioning well enough to think. Arms: ready to fall off in an instant. Eyes: watering in the heat, not blind just yet. Neck: a bit sore, could do with a good crack. Throat: raw from continuous shouting. Overall, I was working well enough to help with setting up once I was done. Hooray.
Marching around town shouting about our troupe wasn't exactly one of my favorite jobs, especially not in the summer. The sun seemed to slow down juts for my misfortune, knowing full well I had no choice but to endure. Just a bit more to go Val. Just a bit. Then, the papers will be almost nonexistent and you won't worry about them for another good two weeks. I was only halfway through my stack, but the second half was always the easier one after all. The first half I'd made sure to stick to every surface it could possibly fit on in the city, and then some. These I simply needed to stuff into the next empty hands I see, and in a crowded street, those were easy to find. As I handed out the fliers in the street, I started up the call for attention once more.
"Come see the Antonia's Troupe of Artists and Entertainers! Music, magic, and more! Spectacles beyond your imagination! Performances that will leave you in tears, whether it be from laughing or crying! A wonderful place to have a summer outing. Would you like a schedule, Sir? Ma'am would you be interested? All our shows are family friendly; I'm sure your children there would love to see it. Starting tomorrow morning, we'll be right up this street, smack dab in the middle of Town Square!
Admission's less than a drubloon's worth for the shows, this week. You heard me right! I said less than a drubloon per person per show! For the whole of this week! But I promise you, we'll be here longer than that and going back to regular prices afterwords. Come for a bargain price, this week only! Please, take a flier! Show your folks and chums! You there! Interested in a schedule? Take it, I insist! Come to the Square tomorrow! Right in Town Square, you can't miss it!"
I kept on like that for the next ten minutes, shouting all the way down the street, waving fliers in the air. What a pleasure it would have been to have an officer stop my activities to keep the peace, but alas, at customs Charlie remembered to get approval for our advertising in the streets, once a week every other week for the next month.
My load lightened substantially by the time I reached my destination, though. You see, I'd been multi-tasking by booking rooms at all the inns I could find down my route. So far, everyone in the troupe had a place to stay, with the exception of five: Abby, Jake, Adam, Boris, and me. Abby and I were always the last to finish our work the first day on land, so our rooms were always settled after everyone else's. Charlie needed to stay close to most of the troupe, so I'd gotten him a room at the Lazy Moon. Adam, Jake, and Boris on the other hand were being held up in customs until who-knows-when. Apparently, one of them thought they could get away with bringing a pineapple off the ship. I would never and will never understand the male brain, but I was certain that I would be straightening the culprit out once I got my hands on him. Though Inter-Galactic Security was familiar with the ship and our group, (forty-nine voyages with a scatter-brained crew are difficult to forget) we still needed to go through proper procedure for formalities' sake; otherwise, I'd be getting a boatload of paperwork to deal with, along with Charlie's boatload of paperwork to deal with. Maybe if we were lucky, I could get away with a warning this time as a first-timer to Montressor.
Either way, the task at hand was the same. Find the last few rooms at the only other inn in town I hadn't visited. The last innkeeper I'd asked said it was called the Benbow Inn. It was supposed to be a nice place, quaint rooms and good food, worth the trouble of shoving through the usual bustling of customers they had. I didn't look forward to having to plow though another crowd, but I did like the sound of the place. Benbow...it reminded me of a story someone had told me a while back, about a small man named Bilbo who'd gone off on an adventure. Bilbo, Benbow. They were both whimsical little words that bounced off the tongue. Where had I heard that story? From my mother? I couldn't possibly have heard it on Lombardi's ship, could I?
I shook myself out of those thoughts. No time to mill about faded memories, not now. Doing that always brings back...well anyway, on to the Benbow.
I walked down the path, pausing my street-calling for the time being. I had ten or twelve more fliers, enough to give out and post up in the inn if I could. If the place was as busy as the other innkeeper had claimed, putting them up in the inn would get us plenty of attention. The street widened as I neared my goal. At the end was a hill where the path led to a comfortable looking place, not too shabby and unique in its shape and size. There she is. I wanted to get this over and done with. A clock tower somewhere rang eight o'clock. If I didn't hurry up, I'd be late for setting up the stalls and tents, namely, Abby's and mine. I tucked the remaining papers away in my pouch and zipped closed my lucky jacket. Then I ran off in the direction of the inn. Ready or not, here I come.
In a matter of minutes I was at the bottom of the hill. I sprinted up and was about to fly through the door when, "ACK!" "OOF!"
My face met the wood floor with a loud knock while the other victim thudded in front of me on his tush. There were exclamations of "Oh my!' and "What happened?" I for one was a bit shaky as I got up and pried my face from the floor. I heard something shift in front of me and a young man's figure loomed over me. "Sorry, are you alright?" he asked as he offered me his hand. I looked up at the other customer I'd run into. His blue eyes were worried, and his tone was concerned. I recognized his face from somewhere before, but I couldn't quite place my finger on where. I reminded myself then that I didn't have much time to spare, so to answer his question, I silently repeated my mental checkup. Head: not thudding too intensely. Arms: wobbly and definitely with a bruise in store for the left shoulder but nothing serious. Eyes: working. Legs; well let's find out. I took his hand and pulled myself up. It was surprisingly rough and firm, just like an experienced spacer's. Maybe he was one. "I'm fit as a fiddle thank you," I said to him kindly. "And don't apologize for something that wasn't your fault. My apologies for not watching where I was going." My sudden straightforwardness had caught him off-guard, so there was a moment's pause before he replied uncertainly, "Umm..that's alright." I flashed him another grin, this time out of humor."Thank you."
I found it funny how awkward I seemed to be making him feel. He wasn't the first to react in such a way. My head-on approach had a tendency to startle people and make them a bit uncomfortable at first. I didn't see the point in feeling out of place in that kind of situation, not anymore; I was fine so long as I got my message across clearly. On the other hand, onlookers were taking my unusual familiarity with this person as a more vulgar thing. I could feel plenty of young women glaring daggers at me from all around. I hadn't even noticed they were there until the whispering started. "How dare she?" "Who does she think she is?" "The little tramp!" I guess he's popular around here among the ladies. He didn't seem very much like Charlie, but you never know about womanizers. I took that as the perfect reason and opportunity to make myself scarce.
I decided to make sure our meeting was something he wouldn't soon forget. The more publicity the better, and it wasn't as if I'd see him again any time soon. His mouth gaped open slightly when I gave him a small bow and swept my hand to my bag to produce a bright red flier for our troupe. "The name's Valerie, artist in the Antonia's Troupe of Artists and Entertainers. We'll be in the Square for the rest of the week at a discounted admissions' price and the rest of the month for a bit more fun." Perfect way to add some dramatic effect. Now he's bound to tell others about this strange person and her flier.
I cocked my head in question to wrap things up. "Now would you happen to know where I should go to ask for a room?" The man (or rather boy since he looked around my age, maybe a couple of years older) simply nodded and jabbed his thumb in the general direction behind him, all the while reading over the flier I'd given him. "To the very back, at the end of the counter."
He looked up as I turned away. I made sure not to pay him any attention or the act would be ruined. "Well then, thank you, once again," I said while walking away from the scene. Exit stage left.
Fate is funny like that. A moment, barely a few minutes long, that seems so insignificant to you may in reality be the turning point that changes the course of your life in ways unimaginable.
For better or for worse.