Chapter 3:

Saturday, June 10th, 2243
The Lady Grey
On the North Atlantic

There was something to be said for the quiet of the ocean at night. Without the man made lights that dominated even some of the most serene places, the stars were at their brightest. Standing on the deck, it wasn't hard to imagine that every single one of them was visible, and even the half-moon didn't completely destroy the illusion.

Corrigan loved it. He loved standing on the deck, just aft the bowsprit, looking at the sky and imagining what it was like in the past... before starships, before space stations, when the ocean was the final frontier for people like him. The days of sail were long gone, though, when one could spend their whole life on the ocean, be it fishing or fighting or transporting cargo.

It made him sad to think about it. Some of his fondest memories were of summers in Maine, sailing with his father. Just the raw feeling of wind, of water, of sunlight - it was when he was most alive.

In a month or two, he would begin another four years at Starfleet's Medical in Maryland, provided he wasn't kicked out of the 'Fleet. Another four years of being planet-bound, able to just hop a shuttle and ride up the coast. Another four years that he could sail, and hopefully put aside the idea of going into space and leaving almost everything behind.

Corry wondered, in the back of his mind, if he would love the stars so much when he was actually there, or if they would just become something else to take for granted.

He did a lot of that, or he used to. He used to imagine that his parents would always be there, and his father's brush with death had shattered that illusion. He used to think he had found a tragic true love in Maggie Mersea, and that was ruined too. Hell, he'd even taken his best friend for granted, and both he and Scott had suffered for it.

Well, if the fates were trying to teach him a lesson, they'd succeeded. He certainly appreciated everything he had... more now than he ever had before.

In this case, the stars. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, imagining for a moment that this wasn't just a brief thing - imagining that this could go on forever, and he could somehow dream back the hands of time and progress. If only that was possible, he could truly point the bow into the horizon and sail forever.

"I'm goin' t'be up there someday," Scott said, rather quietly.

Corry opened his eyes and glanced over, not terribly surprised by Scotty's sudden appearance. "Yeah? And here I was hoping I could con you into going pirate and staying here."

Scott shook his head, eyes still tracking the stars. He wasn't entirely awake yet - still drowsy and only half-aware of the world around him. "Wouldna do much good here, but up there..."

"You could make it here." Corrigan nodded, not sure if he was joking or serious. "Imagine it... I'll be captain, you be my chief, and we can get some of the other guys to stay on. And we just sail."

"Aye, it's called AWOL."

"So? We'll build a sensor screen. They wouldn't be able to scan for us, and even with shuttles, it'd take 'em forever to find us. If we had sensors, we could see 'em coming a parsec away." To himself, Corry grinned. "Just picture it! Landing in some small port, somewhere that's not so modern, and then sailing off again like a ghost ship."

"Hijack ships," Scotty continued, obviously having not figured out that Corry was half-serious about this, "and steal all their crackers."

Corry chuckled, "Why not? There're enough yachts roaming around, and you can bet they'll be good for a raid. Before you know it, we have a whole fleet, and we can just ride the seas pirating."

"Make 'em walk the plank." Scott grinned himself, still somewhat infatuated with the idea. Afterall, he had been dreaming about making someone walk the plank since before they'd even really started the Lady Grey. "Come up alongside, open the ports, and scare the livin' Hell out of 'em."

"Basically," Corrigan said, with a sudden sort of solemnness. "I'm telling you, Scotty, it could work. We could really do it, you and me."

It must have dawned on Scott that Corry wasn't kidding. Blinking once or twice, he looked over at the other cadet, fairly alert now. "Ye're not serious... right?"

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's insane! Even with the best tech in the universe, we couldna get away with it. Ye really think we could evade planetary defense?"

Corry nodded, almost too earnest. "Hell yeah. If anyone could, it's us. You're smart enough to build all kinds of gizmos to hide us, and I'm experienced enough to sail this ship almost anywhere on this planet. We're a damn good team."

"Aye, the best, but..." Scott sighed. "It's madness, though I don't know if it's any more mad than decidin' to go and sink our competition. But in the end, it's just another way of runnin'. In the end, I'm still gonna do my level best to get on a starship, and in the end, ye'll still do your level best to stay here."

"I'm not..." Corry wanted to say that he wasn't running. But really, he was.

"If ye want it, really want it, I'll do everything I can. Build ye sensor screens, deck this lass out to the point where she'd be nothin' more than a ghost." Scott nodded, though he still looked entirely not thrilled with the idea. "And I suppose that for a while, ye'd probably be able to hide, but that doesn't make it any less madness. Still, if ye want it, I'd do it. But I'm not stayin' grounded forever, if I have any choice. Not even here."

It was insane. Corry knew that. He knew how far-fetched the idea was, and just how much it would cost him if he went through with it. It was a dream for dreamers, for young dreamers, for someone who probably should have never joined Starfleet. But for one brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab onto it. "You would, too, wouldn't you?"

"Aye, I would."

"But you'll still leave."

"Right."

"Guess it'll have to wait then." Corry smiled, wryly, putting his hands behind his back. "We still have retirement, right? Maybe when we're out of the service we can go out and cause mischief and mayhem."

"Now there's an idea," Scotty said, relieved that he wouldn't be called on to commit any serious crimes in the near future, aside from the one he'd already planned and started executing. Running over the notion a few times, he nodded, more seriously than before. "Retirement, then. If the Grey's still here, we'll use her, and if not, we can always buy a boat."

"So it's a deal?"

"It's a deal."

Scott was still toying with the notion, even as he took the rounds and made sure everything on the schooner was in order. He was still running over it, over being a sailor of some sort whenever he retired. Starfleet service was fifteen years - they trained for four (or in his case, three), and the rest of the time, they put that training to use. That would make him thirty-six when he hit the minimum service requirement, and forty-one whenever he was eligible for full retirement with benefits.

Really, he had always thought he would be a career officer. There until he died or they kicked him out. And he couldn't imagine being forty-something period, not at twenty-one, with his whole life ahead of him.

But Corry's reckless dreaming did strike a nerve. Scotty wasn't a romantic, but he was a dreamer; it was what had driven him to want starship duty in the first place. Dreaming of being the best in his field, with a starship of his own, and a whole universe to help explore. It was right there, right within his reach.

Well, before he had decided he wanted to sink another person's ship. They were going to fire on the Queen Mary in only a couple of days or so, and he was going to be looking at real charges and real punishments. If anything went wrong and someone lost their life, there wouldn't be a career on anything but a prison asteroid.

Not exactly what he had in mind when he'd joined up.

It wasn't often that Scott doubted his initial decision, but this was one of those times. He had taken so much into account, all the way from how they would get the Queen Mary's crew off of their ship to how they would attack, but his own naivety never allowed him to think it could go horribly wrong.

Still, he was looking at a possible end to everything he had dreamed of, no matter his reasoning. A board of inquiry wouldn't look at his motivations. All they would know was that he'd failed to go through the proper channels, and now there was answering to be done.

Scott was still a fighter, though. Bowing one too many times to the whim of others had steeled his resolve, and if there was a stand to be made, it was going to be on the Atlantic. He could have quit pursuing the matter once Security had closed the book on the sabotage, but if he did, he might not be able to stand firm in the future, when everything could depend on it. Where did that leave him?

Right now, on the quarterdeck, lost in thought, looking aft at the sunrise. The ocean was strangely calm, and they weren't moving nearly as well as they had been. The Lady Grey couldn't have been making more than a few knots, just bowing along gracefully on her port tack. Even he wasn't having trouble with the motion, not as easy and smooth as it was.

Sunset had been spectacular for days, but somewhat dull the night before. Sunrise, however, seemed to be making up for it. Scott grinned to himself, leaning on the stern taffrail, just enjoying it.

For some reason, though, he couldn't completely get lost in it. There was something in the back of his mind that offset even that sight. Thinking on it, he tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. It wasn't Corry's crazy idea, even though he knew he'd be giving that more thought over the next couple days. And it wasn't the ship, because she was in fine form, all elegance and grace.

The sky was brightening by the minute, near an hour into his watch. The world was so calm that Scott could almost pretend it was like one of his sister's paintings, caught in immortality. All red, climbing in intensity until it was nearly painful to look at.

It was there, leaning on the rail and highlighted crimson, that he realized something.

It had been red the morning before the Lady Grey had been burned.

It had become almost a custom for Scotty to nap up against the bulwark, usually so that he was in the sun and so that he could offset the fact there were always going to be bells rung during the night hours. That had earned him a decent tan if nothing else, but other than that, it was just one of his quirks.

It was almost a custom because they'd only been out there for five days, but out of five he'd ended up sleeping better on deck than he did in his cabin for four of them. Why was a mystery, because the bell still rang out its time every half-hour, but there was just something to it, something almost peaceful.

Just not today.

He'd spent most of the morning watch checking everything. The lines, the hull, the steering, everything. But so far as he could tell - and who better to look? - the Grey was in peak condition. He'd checked the positions of the competition, too; Wildstorm was still comfortably in the lead, the Queen Mary was comfortably behind. Everything was fine.

All he'd really managed to do was wear himself out, and still ill at ease he went to his usual spot, curled up between the brace and railing, and tried to sleep it off.

Whatever it was that had gotten Scott all worked up had apparently infected Corrigan as well. Just five hours after he'd turned in, he was back on deck, pacing around and looking ever westward.

And, because Corry was uptight, it bled into everyone on watch. Before long, he wasn't the only one pacing around.

Shaking his head, he made the rounds and checked everything, just like Scott had during his watch. Corry wasn't on duty yet, but that didn't matter - this was just part of being a sailor. Plus, as captain, he was always on call. Once he was satisfied that everything was all right and good, he went back to where his roommate was dozing restlessly, kicking lightly at his boot.

Scotty jumped, and probably would have been on his feet and swinging if only the adrenaline rush hadn't nearly shorted his brain out. Taking a shaky breath, he gave Corry a baleful look. "Was that necessary?"

"Not really," Corry replied, jokingly, "but you're welcome." He smiled for a moment, then went back to being more serious. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"I was tryin'," Scott said, standing. "And I mighta succeeded, if ye weren't so bloody cold-hearted."

"A mortal blow, thou hast dealt me." Corrigan struck a terribly dramatic pose, turning his tortured eyes to the sky. "Pray, my good man, pull this knife from my heart lest it freeze there!"

God, it really was impossible to be pissed off when he was acting like that. Scott rolled his eyes, not particularly wanting to laugh and give in, but he failed anyway. "Ye need locked up... preferably in a padded room, with white walls."

"Two knives! Knave! Two knives in less than a moment, so swiftly that the thrust was a blur to the eye. Prithee do not be so cruel, sir, for my wounded self cannot bear the agony of betrayal, and the wounds are truly mortal." His eyes widening, Corry clutched his chest, slowly dropping to his knees. "My God, it has happened, this is the end! The fates have decreed it, and I, a simple sailor, must now be snipped clean, without so much as a last strand to cling to..." Choking, he dropped onto the deck, looking up at the sky. "Goodbye, goodbye, oh sunny days and fair weather... goodbye, life, thou hast been unkind and unjust... goodbye-"

Scotty mimed looking at a watch, tapping his foot on deck, not able to completely hide the amused smile. "Can we skip ten years? Might be close to the end o' the soliloquy."

"-goodbye, acting career, you died before you were even realized!" Laughing just because, Corry stood again. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad."

"Don't quit yer day job."

"Especially not right now," Balimer cut in, having watched for half of Corry's great testament to acting, and who now actually stepped forward and made his presence known. "Routine check-in with Starfleet's good, but they're forecasting a weather disturbance."

It took maybe a half a second for it to all click together with Corrigan; the unease he felt, as well as most of his crew. He had already guessed that they were in for some heavier weather than the smooth sailing of the last several days, but he'd been waiting for it to be confirmed. "How bad?"

"Right now, it's at Force 6... out of the southwest, wind at twenty-five knots, waves projected at thirteen feet average, and eighteen significant." Balimer nodded. "They don't think it's going to get any worse."

Corry nodded himself, going over his almost encyclopedic knowledge of the prevailing winds. He'd made damn sure to brush up on the topic before they went out. "It probably won't. At Force 6, we can pretty much push right through it... be a bumpy ride, but not dangerous."

Bumpy ride. Scotty didn't like words like that, particularly when they were used in the same sentence. That meant he would be sick as all Hell until it blew over, unless by some divine act he was cured of that particular ailment. Before they had a chance to go further into their discussion of weather patterns, he broke in, "I'm goin' below. Maybe try'n get some sleep before this hits."

"Good idea. Chances are, most people'll be wide awake when it gets rough." Corrigan smiled slightly, still working out how they would approach the weather. "Talk to ya later?"

"Aye," Scott answered, offhand, looking westward. For some reason, despite all self assurances that it was more of a weather disturbance than an actual storm, he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, 'bumpy ride' wouldn't do it justice.

Still uneasy, he shook his head and started for the steps.