Chapter Seven: The First Fights.



Lieutenant Calgary ran through the sewers, chased by what sounded like a hoard of swordsmen. Some where he'd been separated from Marrissa. The last he had seen of her, she'd taken a cut to her tunic along the left side and dodged past the swordsman, heading downstream. He hadn't been so lucky, going back up stream. If he didn't find a quick way up soon he was going to end up trapped when the tunnels got smaller. Already he could feel the walls closing in.

* * * * *

Captain Lord Trevor took his post beside the wheel of the HMS Godspeed. She was raising her sails and preparing to leave the mouth of the river Castrome. The great white sails dropped down as the anchor was reported to have been brought aboard. She wasn't the only ship preparing to leave harbor. The ships moored near the point where also active.

"Mr. Bracegirdle, what do you make of the two ships at the point?" Lord Trevor asked of his able First Mate.

Mr. Bracegirdle pulled out his glass and examined the ships. "They appear to be putting to sail, sir. They're also manning the guns."

"And what do they fly?" Lord Trevor asked.

"The ensign of the Duke of Fasstime, sir," Bracegirdle said as he put his glass away.

"Order the Ladies bellow, Mr. Bracegirdle," Lord Trevor said. "Once we're under sail, man the guns. I have a feeling we're not getting out of this without a fight."

* * * * *

A gust of wind filled the ensigns of the two ships off Castrome Point. It was all the Ducal Consort needed. Lord Elden had feared this. The Castrome Fleet wasn't due in for another day, and his daughters were now in danger from two enemy ships in his own harbor. Fortunately, the HMS Victorious was ready ahead of schedule. It was Tuesday, and two Fasstime Frigates were about to feel the might of a ship of the line.

* * * * *

A plume of spray rose in front of the Godspeed. "They have our range, Captain!" Bracegirdle informed.

"Prepare to return fire as we pass by," Lord Trevor ordered. "Helm 6 points to starboard. We're faster than them, if we can get past them, we'll be fine.

* * * * *

The Victorious left dock in record time. Her 52 guns were primed and ready for the engagement against the ships that dared fire on her Captain's daughters' ship. Above her second mast flew the ensign of her Captain, the Crimson Latin Cross of Castrome quartered with the Green Celtic Cross of Avtra. This day two ships had earned the ire of three dukedoms. And the regent of Castrome was planning to do his own dirty work today.

* * * * *

A spar and some rigging fell at Lord Trevor's feet. The Godspeed had just lost her mizzen mast top gallant. "We've lost some speed, Captain," Mr. Bracegirdle said. "The wind is more favorable to them."

"Understood, hard to port," Lord Trevor ordered. "Take us in close. Ready starboard guns. Aim for the waterline. Fire as we pass!"

The first shot went high, taking out the top gallant of the first ship. The second fell short, but the third hit hard, right into the middle of the at the base of it's main mast. The fourth hit just above the waterline. The Godspeed's fifth shot missed cleanly. In the interim, the Godspeed's mizzen mast was shortened by a third.

"Mr. Bracegirdle, what do make our opponents?"

"The Abigail and the Lady Rose both out of Arlipor, sir," Bracegirdle said. "28s."

"We're outgunned by a little more than 4 to 1, but they're aiming for capture, Mr. Bracegirdle," Lord Trevor said. "Fortunately, I'm not so constrained. Ready portside cannons! I want to hull those ships!"

* * * * *

On the quarter deck of the Victorious, Lord Elden pushed against the finely polished wooden rail, as if he could make the ship close the force of his will. The crew would not bet against it. "Captain, coming into range," his Lieutenant ordered.

"Ready the bow chasers," Lord Elden said. "Then prepare for a full engagement. We're going to turn those two ships into driftwood."

* * * * *

"Captain! The Victorious is out of dock and coming into range," Bracegirdle announced, almost shouting into his ear.

The Lady Rose turned to meet the Victorious. As she did, she dipped enough to bring her hole to the water. She floundered, before righting herself and finishing the turn.

"Close on the Abigail," Lord Trevor ordered. "We've got a chance now."

The roar of the Victorious's first broadside covered Bracegirdle's mumbled reply. The Lady Rose would never recover from the maiden battle. From the Godspeed's view, the main mast was simply blown right off the ship, along with a good portion of the mizzen mast and her foresail. The Lady Rose leaned away from the Victorious at first, but then tilted back, and went completely over, keel up with all hands aboard in less than a minute.

Meanwhile, the Godspeed had closed on the Abigail. On the Abigail's decks, the materials for boarding where being prepared. Closer the ships came. Then in unison, the Godspeed's port cannons fired. The Abigail suffered several holes in her hull, as the Godspeed picked up her sails, and put on speed out of the battle, leaving the angry father on the Victorious to deal with the Abigail.

* * * * *

Marrissa emerged from the sewer at it's end and quickly hid behind some bushes. The last hundred meters of the sewer had a maintenance walkway along one side, which was a good thing, as before she'd gotten to it the sewage level had already topped her knees.

It was about three minutes before her pursuers left the sewer. She watched as they scanned the lagoon and the lush tropical brush surrounding it. As they scanned, another swordsman came into veiw.

"Foster! Have you seen any one exit the sewer?" one of the two men who had been following her asked.

"No, sir," Foster said. "I've been standing guard all day, and everyone I've seen entered the sewer."

"He must have hidden in a side branch," the second said. "Foster, I need you to join the search. Two men attacked Lord Henry in the sewer, and we've got to find the one who went down stream."

Marrissa watched as the three re-entered the sewer. As soon as they disappeared, she carefully walked away through the bush making as little noise as possible. Soon she came to a small cove. Looking at her sewage covered legs, she stopped there to clean herself off. She took her tunic off, which had somehow escaped stain, but did have a rather large cut in it, which got larger when Marrissa took it off. She then took a dive into the salt water.

The wash and swim was a pleasant one. The wash especially. Marrissa had missed baths since leaving the Enterprise for this mission. The cleaning methods on board the Stargazer just didn't measure up with a bath in sun warmed tropical water. And to have a pleasant swim afterwards ... well Marrissa would never admit it to her friends, but she loved skinny dipping. The flow of the water past her naked body as she swam felt much better than when she wore a swimming suit.

It was too bad that she couldn't afford to stay at the cove all day, but as she swam to shore she heard the bells of Church of the Overflowing Cup toll the hour of four. Marrissa was expected back at the Inn at five.

Once she was ashore, Marrissa pulled her tunic over her head, only to discover a cut creating a gapping hole just even with her belly button. But she had little choice but to wear it, as it was the only piece of clothing she had. It was better to have the hole on this side though. There at least she'd have some control over it ripping open further. Still, she didn't really want to enter town like this.

Mulling this dilemma over she walked down the shore, towards town. Soon the Bluepor Road curved towards shore and she began to walk along the cobblestone road. So entranced, in her thoughts, she failed to notice the pair of rinnebeasts heading towards her.

* * * * *

Lieutenant Ken Calgary was strapped to the rack. His arms were attached to one rope which wound around a bar which could be turned to pull them further from his legs, which were embedded in a tight restraint on the rack's bottom. The room he was in was not the expected dungeon, but what appeared to be a rather opulent quarters. Calgary was an Engineer. He wasn't trained to undergo torture. Actually, most Star Fleet Officer's weren't, especially mediaeval torture. Still, the torturer has to be asking the right questions to get out the information. Otherwise, Calgary would have been telling how to build a starship.

"I ask you again, who sent you to intercept me?" Lord Henry asked, his hand caressing the wheel that would pull Calgary further apart.

"No one!" Calgary screeched, already in pain after a hour of this.

"Why were you in the sewers?" Lord Henry asked, bringing the rack up a notch.

"Captain Picard sent me!" The pain increased.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Henry said. "And who is this Captain Picard?"

"He commands the merchant ship Stargazer!" Calgary could feel his joints popping loose.

"Oh but that's not all he does, is it?"

"No..." Calgary moaned as the rack pulled him further appart.

"Perhaps you'd care to tell me what you know about this Captain Picard."

"I'll tell you anything, just stop this pulling," Calgary sobbed.

"We'll see," Henry said, reducing the pull by two notches. "Isn't that better. Now who is this Captain Picard."

"He's the commanding officer on the flagship starship Enterprise."

"Starship? I think you're lying to me."

"No, I swear I'm not. We come from the same organization as the King was from."

"And I suppose you're here to bring the King back. Pardon me if I've heard that one before. In the last twenty years over a dozen 'prophets' have claimed that. They're gone now, and the King is still here. Though, he won't be much longer. You can do better than that. Who was that swordsman with you?"

"She was the Captain's daughter, Marrissa," Calgary said.

"Still lying," Henry sighed. He turned the rack up a notch, and Calgary screamed.

"I'm telling the truth! She's the Chief of Security on the Enterprise! A member of the Royal Family of Essex! The youngest ever to serve in Starfleet!"

"I think the pain has addled your brain," Lord Henry said. "Too bad. I thought we were getting somewhere. Perhaps you'll be able to talk coherently later. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time anymore. I've got a King to capture and kill, and I'm afraid that after I'm done, any information you have will be totally inadequate to your continued existence."

With that, Lord Henry brought up the rack three more notches, popping Calgary's arms out of their sockets. As he turned to leave, Calgary's screams were music to his ears.

* * * * *

Marrissa was hoping that she wouldn't run into anyone she knew before she got back to her room at the Golden Rinnebeast. It was a hope that didn't even last halfway to the city gates. The coastal road she was walking on wasn't very well traveled, but there were some people riding the local replacement for horses.

"Stop for a moment, Avery," a girl said from her mount. "I think I recognize that girl."

"Okay, Hayley," Avery said.

* * * * *

The Godspeed rounded Castrome point and put on all sails. Captain Lord Treavor intended to make record time, even with a damaged mizzenmast. Repairs on the mizzenmast would only take a couple more hours, anyway.

* * * * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard adjusted his tunic as he stood at the door to the throne room. His wife stood at his side, and two guards at his back. The former security chief turned chief of intelligence had already entered the room and was talking to the King and his staff. Finally, the door split open, revealing Lord Harlan.

"Come on in, Captain," Harlan said. "Roland, do not let anyone disturb us. This could take a while."

"Are you sure you don't want someone to guard them inside?" Roland asked.

"The Captain and his wife are not a physical threat," Harlan said. "If his highness wishes to join us, he may. Tell him that our meeting is a matter of the Prime Directive, if he asks."

* * * * *

The guard on the main entrance to Odyssey was thin, no one had tried to force their way in before, and over the years, it had been gradually reduced. So when Lord Henry's troops emerged from the nearby sewer junction and rushed the entrance, it was easily taken, with no losses on Henry's side.

* * * * *

As the Captain walked passed Lord Harlan into the throne room, he took stock of the room. It was a typical Star Fleet Gym. Two stories, running track around the second level. A large tapestry covered the end of the room farthest from the door, and below it sat five thrones, arranged two on the highest dais, two still placed in front of them, and another on the left hand side. No one was seated in them. Instead everyone was seated in a loose grouping of chairs under the Castrome banner, one of four ducal banners placed around the room. The door slide shut behind him.

"Welcome to Odyssey, Jean-Luc," the white bearded King said standing. "I'm sorry that I didn't meet you sooner. Harlan didn't tell me you were here. Who's this beautiful young woman?"

"This is Commander Beverly Picard, MD, my wife, mother of my daughter, and my Chief Medical Officer," Jean-Luc said, quite obviously proud of her. "Beverly, this is Captain Richard York, of the Odyssey."

"And lately King of Ellosia, though I wish it weren't so, most of the time," the King said. "Perhaps later, you can exchange professional courtesies with my wife, she's missed having doctors she can talk to."

"It should be interesting to hear what Doctor York has done here," Beverly said.

"Not much, I'm afraid," the King said, sitting back down. "We've avoided introducing any new concepts, instead relying on encouraging native innovation. Claire has spent most of her time raising our two children and breeding rinnebeasts."

* * * * *

The path to the throne room was cleared rather easily as well, as other teams went after other key parts of Odyssey. They were after the King, the Prince, the Princess, and any member of the King's council, as well as securing the palace.

* * * * *

"You do realize that you're violating the Prime Directive by just being here," Picard said, taking a seat.

"I had no choice but to break the Prime Directive once my ship landed on the last King and the Royal Family," the King said.

"Surely there were other claimants for the throne," Picard said.

"A few, but they were so remote as to be unclear, and likely to throw the kingdom into civil war," the King said. "Both the Duke of Fasstime and the Duke of Castrome had claims of equal degree, and Avtra and Armedge to a lesser degree. The best claim was probably of the Lord of Music, the bastard son of a bastard son of a bastard son whose great-grandfather was King Avery III."

"It sounds to me like the monarchal line was on a thin thread," Picard replied.

"It does, until you realize that our landing killed over 150 members of the Ellosia Royal Family," the King said. "Once I learned how much of the Ellosian government that my barely controlled landed had taken out, I felt that I had a moral obligation to take over."

The door to the throne room opened, and Lord Harlan turned see who it was, expecting that maybe Prince Avery had come to join, knowing that none of the guard would interrupt.

* * * * *

Prince Avery, Lady Hayley, and Marrissa rode into the royal stables. Marrissa shared Lady Hayley's mount, and wore Avery's cloak, wrapped around her own tattered tunic. Avery dismounted first, and then helped Hayley and then Marrissa down from the rinnebeast.

"Welcome to Odyssey Palace, Marrissa," Avery said, turning to the stable hand. "You! go get my sister's extra outfit, for this sailor lady. Brittany always keeps an extra outfit out here."

It took only a minute for the stableboy to return with the extra pants & tunic. Marrissa took the offered pants, but left the tunic. While the pants were of thick and sturdy cloth, the tunic was of a thin and almost translucent pale blue cloth. "Thanks," she replied. "I'll return the pants once I get back to the Golden Rinnebeast for mine."

"Don't go so soon, Marrissa," Hayley said, as Marrissa turned as if to leave.

"Yes, at least come in and get some refreshment," Avery said. As he did, the sound of clashing swords started to be heard. Suddenly, a solider burst from the Palace entrance.

"Your Highness!" the solider said. "Someone has taken the King hostage in the throne room. They're heading this way!"

"Can any of you handle a sword?" Avery asked the stable hands, drawing his own, and eyeing the rack of broad swords next to the stable door.

"I can," Marrissa said, picking up one of the swords. "Hmmm... a little out of balance, but useable."

"Okay, we'll head to the Avtra Ducal House," Avery said as a couple other stable hands also armed themselves. "Collect any other soldiers as we go." He spied a young stable boy, who often had helped him saddle his rinnebeast. "David, head to Castrome's Ducal House. I want the Duchess to meet me at Avtra."

A trio of swordsmen burst from the palace door. They were armed with short swords, and looked to have been fighting for a while, judging from the torn and sweaty clothes. Avery raised his sword. Marrissa and the soldier did likewise. Together they leapt into battle.

The soldier was, perhaps a moderately skilled swordsman, certainly capable of holding his own in a battle. He took the left most opponent, a man more used to stabbing a short sword than welding a broadsword. Prince Avery had been training with various swords since he was little, and had, due to a breach in security, once assisted in driving off a Pirate landing party in Bluepor. The Prince took the man in the center, a fairly skilled swordsman in his own right. That left Marrissa to take the right most opponent.

Marrissa's skills were rather eclectic. That came with both being Chief of Security on the Enterprise, and being just thirteen. She was skilled with ba'leths and mek'leths, and other Klingon blades, but her real talents came with the saber. She'd been training with the saber since she was seven, but that training was the formal dueling training. While it was good for the defense, offensively, her bladed weapon technic stank with the broadsword. Still she held her own, and given that her opponent wasn't expecting to go up against a young girl, she had some advantages.

Prince Avery was the first to finish with his adversary. His opponent had over extended just a little bit, and Avery had gotten in his guard, and cut open his opponent's neck. Seeing Marrissa's skillful parrying, Avery turned to help the soldier, who was dodging due to the fact that the left most man was using his sword like a spear. It may not have been honorable to take a man down from behind, but Avery wasn't following the dueling code for this.

It was about then that Marrissa decided to try a technique from her mek'leth training. Her sword clashed once more, it's tip piercing her opponent's wrist, before she stepped in close, passed her opponent, trailing her sword behind her.

A wound in the belly is not always fatal, and if it is, the death is usually slow. With proper medical attention, this one wouldn't be. It was, however, coupled with the scratch on his wrist, enough to cause the man to drop his sword. The next wound would be fatal. Marrissa's height made cuts to the neck and head on the six-foot tall man hard. A slice an inch deep into the man's belly, that was what made his funeral bell ring, even though it would take the better part of an hour for him to die. His hands tried to keep his intestines inside him, as Marrissa lost her breakfast to the sight of her first real hot-blooded kill.



Into the throne room marched several swordsmen, and entering from one of the doors onto the running track were more swordsmen and several archers. Striding in behind them, as if he owned the place was Lord Henry of Fasstime. "Good Afternoon Richard," he said. "You don't mind if my men relieve you of your weapons."

* * * * *