Wroter note: I am so sorry this took so long!!! I haven't been inspired to write TP fics lately ((which sucks b/c I really enjoy writing them!)), but I finally got some! Thank you everyone who've kept up with this fic especially my number 1# fan :)

***

The crowd at the Lamplight Tavern wasn't packed, but had a fair amount of spacers drinking and eating a late supper. A small, slug-like alien with six eyes slid in, and grabbed a stool at the bar. A large man of great height stood behind the bar, fiddling with something. "Bartender! Bartender!" the six-eyed slug called, demandingly.

"Now, hold ye lip! I've only one arm!" The large man turned. His cyborg eye blinked orange in amusement. "Well, Mr. Onus! What a surprise!"

Mr. Onus leaned back from the bar, his many eyes flickering around. "Captain Silver! Did you get pardoned too?"

"Never got arrested!" Silver shifted his weight to lean on the bar across from his old crewmember. "I escaped before they had time to catch me. Been lyin' low ever since. So, you were pardoned, ay?"

Mr. Onus nodded. "Two months ago. Just a week after pardoning, I met up with David Scroop and joined his crew!"

"What an unfortunate circumstance for you" Silver remarked. He waved a hand at the bottles behind the bar. "What's ye pleasure?"

"Beer! The largest bottle you have!" Mr. Onus answered, anxiously. "You remember the cabin boy from our little trip to Treasure Planet?"

Silver popped the cork off a beer bottle, and handed it to the slug. He raised an eyebrow at the mention of Jimbo. He hadn't seen the boy since he made his get-away from the Legacy. He thought about the boy often. Usually wondering how Jimbo was doing, if his mother's inn was coming along, and most of the time missing the boy's company. He congregated with the thought of making a quick stop on Montressor, but hadn't the slightest clue where Jimbo and his mother were staying.

"I believe I recall him."

Mr. Onus took a big swig of beer then slammed the bottle down. "I told David of his brother's ultimate demise into the etherium. He was flaming mad! You know what he did?"

"Probably scuffled some tables and chairs into the wall?"

"Yeah, he did that. But, he kidnapped the cabin boy!"

"What?" Silver's worried frown betrayed him for a moment, but his old crewmember hadn't taken notice. "When was this?" he fished, covering his worry.

Mr. Onus took another long swig. "Four days ago."

"What is he planning to do with the boy?"

"You know how arachnids are with their prey..." The slug leant in, a wicked grin on his cold, slimy lips. "Nice and slow."

Silver nodded dumbly, knowing exactly what that meant.

"We're having a fight match tonight in the galley of Scroop's ship. You should come for the fun." Mr. Onus slurred the last word. He downed the last gulp of beer then threw a drubloon onto the bar. "See you around, Captain!" He slunk out the tavern.

Silver laid his cyborg elbow on the bar, his metal fingers rubbing his chin. A fight on Scroop's ship tonight? It might work…

***

The throbbing headache had faded hours ago, but the piecing pain in his side had not left since the moment he was thrown to the floor by Scroop. He was bounded again - hands and ankles - in the brig of the ship. The gag had been left off, but the blindfold was well intact. Jim had gained consciousness an hour after his unsuccessful escape. He lay on the cold metal floor, not knowing what day, time, or where he was in the galaxy.

It felt like a dream, or more like a nightmare, when hands were laid on him. The next thing Jim knew he was hearing many crude voices encircling him. One thought raced through Jim's clouded mind: dying. His bonds were cut, and he was stood upright. His blindfold remained. The crowd hushed.

Pounding footsteps, like rocks slamming against metal, paddled toward Jim until he could feel the presence of someone directly in front of him. "Begin!" Scroop's voice rang out. Suddenly, a fist struck Jim in the lower gut. He doubled over, falling to one knee. A booted shoe connected with his face, knocking him flat on the floor. The crowd jested and cheered around him. Jim remained sprawled on his stomach, only his hand moved to pull off the blindfold. Before him was a towering, half-human type alien with burning red eyes and bulging arm muscles. Ironically, Jim thought of the late Mr. Hands back on the Legacy and wondered where in the universe did these kinds of gigantic aliens came from.

The fight wasn't fair by a hundred miles. Jim shakily got to his feet. He raised his fists, keeping them close to his face like Silver taught him. He lunged a tight right cut toward the giant. He was slapped down again like a fly buzzing around the giant's head. He pulled himself to his feet, blood rushing from his nose. He stared at the giant, wiping the blood on his tattered shirtsleeve. He lunged again, this time more sloppily but he finally hit his target. Then hit it again while the giant was set back. His success lasted only one more hit. The giant had kicked his bruised side, and Jim was on the floor clutching his side and groaning.

Scroop raised a claw to stop the fight. "Enough." His crowd of pirates moaned, most of them leaving the galley at Scroop's command. The fun was over…for now. Jim felt someone grab a handful of the back of his shirt. He was hastily pulled to his feet and drug to a table in the corner.

Only Scroop and another pirate remained. The arachnid sat across from him while the other alien stayed behind him. Jim, through blackened eyes, glared at his enemy best he could. It was hard really to do anything with the intense pain running through your body.

"I know you're hurting" Scroop started. "Here's something that will ease it." He pushed a mug in front of Jim. Jim remained motionless. He knew Scroop didn't want to help ease his pain. There was a catch. "You won't drink? You're choice." Scroop gestured. The alien behind Jim grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.

A hot liquid burned down Jim's throat, making him sputter and cough. It was liquor. Not just regular ale he'd tasted a few times in the past, but vodka - the hard liquor. It took a strong stomach to hold vodka down. Jim knew from his experience with regular ale that he would have a hard time keeping it down.

Again and again, the liquor was poured down his throat. Unwillingly Jim swallowed it until he was barely aware of his surroundings. His mind was blanketed in a thick haze that made him feel like he was thinking through sludge. The vodka threatened to rip apart his empty stomach. It seemed an eternity before he was let go, gagging as he lay his head against the table.

Anything that happened after that was a blur to Jim. He swerved in and out of consciousness. He was aware of the fact that someone had held his head upright as he vomited. The last thing he knew he was being lifted high into the air and a soft whisper of, "You'll be okay, lad" curled in his mind.