Chapter 13 – A White Knight in a Green Hen
The Green Hen was a veritable den of iniquity. The hardwood floors, dank, smoky atmosphere, busty wenches who had more coming out than they kept in, and pirates – he quickly scanned to make certain none were from his last unfortunate encounter with pirates – all combined to create a sordid atmosphere which Delbert found totally unappealing. His eyes were drawn to the rear of the establishment where kegs of various ales and beers lined the wall behind the bar, and the counter below was stained with the dark colors of the brews that had carelessly fallen from the oft-used taps. Reflected in the mirror lining the wall behind the bartender were bottles too numerous to count. A reticent drinker, Delbert was amazed at how many different labels were displayed there. Tall bottles with dark necks, skinny bottles, ones that curved in shape, translucent ones and there was even a liquid that glowed a bright green. Probably best to stay away from that one, he decided. Last time he had crossed paths with green inebriants, he had come away with a significantly lighter purse than he had come in to the establishment with.
Never in his whole life had he seen such a raucous display of vulgarity, inebriation and promiscuity. All around him, the seediest of the seedy lurked about, purse strings untied and alcohol within an arm's reach. Drake was certainly in his element, Delbert admitted to himself darkly. This was very similar to where Delbert had imagined the cad would spend his time at. His imaginings had been tinged with a naïve understanding of the nautical underworld. But having now experienced it, he was certain he had been along the right lines.
A familiar voice, loud and arrogant, floated past his ears and interrupted his musings. He turned and tried to discern Wellington's whereabouts. The bar. Near the far right end. There he sat, swilling a dark brown substance with foam trailing down the side of his pewter container. The liquid slopped over the side as he took another swig. Delbert turned his nose in disgust. The man was a complete fraud. How he had ever become an ambassador was beyond comprehension.
Shaking his head in disgust again, Delbert weaved his way through the tables littered carelessly about the floor. Sailors and ruffians sat side by side, smoke rising from the murky darkness to mix with the foul stench of sweat and alcohol. He could barely stand the smell. He looked around and took in the display of utter degradation that surrounded him.
Near his arm, four men sat around a scarred table, thin slivers of playing cards cutting through the air as they were dealt to the gnarled hands which greedily snatched them. Across from him, he could see a lady - and he used the term quite loosely - sidling up to a rough looking and clearly inebriated Captain who sat haphazardly on a wooden chair. He could hear the man's racous laughter as the woman leaned down and whispered something into his ear. Delbert swallowed hard. He didn't want to know what had just been offered and enthusiastically accepted.
As much as he loved Amelia, this was definitely an aspect of her life that he knew he would never be able to understand. They had argued before - albeit rarely - about the company she willingly surrounded herself with. And although he would now never ask her to leave, never ask her to compromise who she was for him, he had at one point expressed his disbelief that she could so willingly jump into an environment which fostered such a carnal existence. He could remember the anger that had quickly flared when he had innocently suggested she consider sharing her experiences and knowledge in a more civilized environment, one less conducive to pirating and beer swilling.
"And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean, Doctor!"
The question, delivered in a low and ominous tone, hung in the air between them, a simmering fire in Amelia's eyes focusing solely on the uncertainty reflected in his. Delbert, still new to the arena of dating and still a bit unsure of exactly where he stood with the beautiful Felid, opened his mouth before closing it uncertainly.
"Well, ah," he fumbled, twisting the handkerchief he held in his hands, "I merely meant that perhaps you might find it refreshing and a tad less taxing if you spent some time teaching at the Academy. The students there could benefit so much and you --"
"I what, Doctor," Amelia broke in, advancing closer to where he stood. "I might find the rigors of command less trying? You find me unable to perform my duties? Is that what you're telling me?"
Delbert adjusted his glasses as he sputtered a "No! No! Of course not. I was merely suggesting that some time spent in port would allow to get away from that rough environment, the salty men on your ship," he gave her a weak smile and finished his line of reasoning. "It would allow you to be more feminine. You wouldn't have to be so rough and tough, so to speak."
The narrowed eyes and thinly stretched lips should have been enough warning that he'd made the wrong reply. But just in case he wasn't certain, the flattening of her sharp ears definitely informed him that he'd chosen his words poorly.
"More feminine." It wasn't a question. In fact, Delbert had the unsettling impression it was actually a threat. He took a step back and collided with the table behind his knees. Amelia followed him and brought her nose close to his. Her words, when spoken, were delivered in a scathing tone.
"If you had wanted to be with someone more feminine, then you should have pursued that two-headed saleswoman you so foolishly allowed to goad you into buying that metal contraption."
Delbert opened his mouth to reply, but Amelia waved a finger sharply at him effectively cutting him off.
"Don't even think about speaking. As for the company I choose, I realize they are not the cultured, hoity toity band of academics you so often surround yourself with, but I will have you know they are a trustworthy group of men and damn fine sailors. I would trust my life to any one of them and, in fact, have several times."
Delbert's brow furrowed in surprise. "Hoity toity? My colleagues are not 'hoity toity,'" he frowned. "I will admit, at times, they can be a bit ... ah .. reserved, but your assessment is rather unfair."
Amelia regarded him incredulously. "My assessment is unfair? You just blasted the company I keep, not to mention my profession, and you have the gall to question my assessment?"
Delbert blinked in surprise. "I was not 'blasting' your company nor your profession. I merely offered a suggestion I thought you might consider."
"For future reference, I suggest you keep your suggestions to yourself."
Delbert huffed and brought his arms across his chest. "Well, I never --"
"Yes, I can certainly attest that you never thought to think before voicing your opinion," Amelia nodded.
"That is not what I was going to say," Delbert informed her.
"A pity."
Delbert threw his hands in the air and turned to regard her with barely contained annoyance. "You are the most frustrating ... most incorrigible ... stubborn woman I have ever met! I don't understand you sometimes!" he sighed in frustration and turned away to rant at the bookcase lining his wall. "A man makes a casual suggestion to the woman he loves, a suggestion only mentioned because he wants to spend more time with her, in an effort to bring their relationship to the next level, and said woman pounces on him as if he's suggested she suddenly give up her career and spend her time domesticated, knitting him socks and sweaters!"
Amelia regarded him curiously, surprised at his frustrated outburst and more than a little confused by what he had to say. She lowered her voice and stepped up behind him.
"You mean you weren't suggesting I give up my career?"
He kept his back to her, but released a little of the tension contained in his shoulders. "Of course not."
"And the company I keep?"
"I just want you to be treated like a lady deserves to be treated," was his soft admission.
Amelia brought her hand to rest on his shoulder. "And being more feminine?" came her tentative question.
Delbert reached up to lace his fingers with hers. "Purely selfish on my part," he admitted as he turned around bringing their intertwined hands to rest over his heart.
She looked at him questioningly.
He smiled shyly and moved closer. "You always take my breath away, but when you were that dress of yours-"
"The ivory one?"
"Yes," he nodded. "When I see you in that I positively stop breathing."
Amelia laughed and closed the final space between them. "It seems I have been a hotheaded idiot," she murmured and traced a pattern down the lapel of his jacket.
"Only a little," Doppler assured her with a gentle laugh.
Amelia smiled and nodded. "I deserve that."
"You deserve to be pampered."
"Do I now?"
"Indeed. And I know just the man for the job," he informed her as he placed a soft kiss against her neck.
"I'm very much open to suggestions," she murmured. "But first, I want to know exactly what you meant by moving our relationship to the next level."
Delbert pulled away and blushed. "Oh ... ah ... I ... I can't believe I said that out loud."
"Ah but you did." She glided a finger along the opening of his jacket. "Exactly what level did you have in mind, my dear Doctor?"
Delbert broke into a wide smile as he remembered the events that had immediately followed his explanation after Amelia's persistent and persuasive questioning. A sailor gave him an odd look and Delbert, remembering where he was, quickly schooled his features back into an irritated scowl.
Stay focused, he admonished himself, directing his attention back on Drake. He could hear the faint conversation between Wellington and the man sliding another frothy beverage to him. Arrogant woman, incompetent captain and hateful ... well a word he didn't want to repeat and certainly didn't care hearing in reference to Amelia dripped with acid from the Ambassador's lips. Anger flared within him and he strode purposefully to where Drake sat. He'd just about had enough of the pompous idiot and it was time someone other than Amelia put him in his place.
"I'd quit referring to Captain in such a derogatory manner if I were you, Wellington," Delbert warned in a low growl as he came to stand behind him. "One never knows when one might be overheard by the wrong people."
Drake's lips curled up in a sneer as he took one last gulp and finished his drink. Turning in his chair, he gave Delbert a disdainful glance before standing up to address the smaller man. "Are you threatening me, Dr. Doppler?"
"Quite possibly."
"You should know that threats do nothing but anger me."
"I could honestly care less," Delbert told him, keeping his gaze level with the larger man.
"And where did this sudden bout of courage come from? Been sniffing around that Felid's coattails?"
Delbert drew himself squarely up. "Just what are you insinuating?"
"Oh please," Wellington drawled. "It doesn't a scientist to realize you are attracted to that … woman. I wouldn't be shocked to find out that she dallies with her crew. Just be careful dog boy. She's with you one night and the next night it'll be that goody-goody first mate of hers."
"Are you questioning her honor?" Doppler asked in an offended voice.
"And if I am?" Drake challenged. "What are you going to do about it?"
Delbert stood for a moment, contemplating the question. What was he going to do about it? After all, he'd never been much of a fighter, but this oversized oaf was definitely asking for it.
"Well, I … I," he sucked in a deep breath and curled his fists. "I'll have to clean my clock for you … that is ... your clock for you!"
"You?" Drake sneered and slid a finger beneath Delbert's nose. "You couldn't clean your own clock if you tried!"
"That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard," Delbert blustered, momentarily losing context of Wellington's statement. "I've cleaned my clocks many times!" He stopped, realizing what he'd said. "I don't mean I knocked myself our, of course," he amended huffily, "I merely meant -"
"Shut up and go back to your little feline wench, Doctor. The Green Hen is no place for puppies," Drake drawled before reaching for his drink.
It took a split second for Delbert to decide upon a course of action. He clenched his teeth and balled his hand into a fist by his side. In less time than it took for him to blink and follow through with conscious thought the route his body had chosen to travel, he watched, in amazement, as his fist came up and solidly connected with the right side of Drake's jaw.
Ale went flying everywhere as the mug upturned, covering patrons, Drake and Delbert. The sopping feline stood, eyes widened in shock that Delbert had actually delivered on his threat. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Wrong decision, dog boy," he hissed and extended his claws. The flickering candlelight reflected sharply off the long, black daggers and Delbert swallowed hard. Male pride aside, the scientific aspect of his addled brain finally kicked in, quickly beginning to process the situation he now faced. Angry feline. Sharp claws. Twice his size. Outcome: not good. Not good at all. But, he had started it, and by God, he would finish it!
A slow fire began to burn in his eyes. He was tired of the big oaf groping Amelia; tired of Drake belittling him; and completely fed up with his derogatory comments that had been aimed at Amelia ever since she'd shot him down. No, Delbert decided, he was going to let this hairball finally have it. He'd kept his temper far too long, and now there was no turning back. He bared his teeth at Drake in a feral smile, surprising the ambassador.
"Wrong move?" he growled. "I certainly don't think so."
"We'll see about that!" Drake spat and lunged forward, slicing through the fine linen of Delbert's shirt before he could even react to the move. The bar grew deathly silent, and it took a moment for Delbert to register the lancing fire that had just begun to dance up and down his left arm. He looked down, in shock, to see a bright red rapidly seep through the white linen, staining the precious fabric. The astrophysicist clinically noted three open gashes, relatively deep, beneath the ripped material, before slowly bringing his gaze back to where Drake stood, smirking openly.
"Wrong move," was the only warning Delbert gave as he darted forward and swiped a paw against the ambassador's injured nose, sending the larger man to his knees, howling in pain and grabbing at his nose. Delbert seized the opportunity this afforded and tucked his arm tightly to his side before barreling shoulder first in to the feline's stomach. Wellington, though, had recovered just enough to see the movement and reached out, catching Doppler by the arm. He jerked it behind the canid's back and brought it sharply upward, causing Delbert's eyes to widen in sudden agony.
"Had enough?" the larger man taunted, tightening his grip on the arm.
"Hardly," Doppler gasped as tears sprang from his eyes.
"My, my, aren't we the brave little masochist," Wellington sneered.
"I ... am ... not ... a ... ow!" A hard elbow smashing in to Delbert's side effectively cut off the sentence. He raised his hand for yet another blow when an authoritative voice rang out within the bar.
"Take your hands off Doctor Doppler!"
The command, barked out in a harsh, staccato voice caused Drake to whirl around, bringing Delbert with him. Lightoller stood in the entryway, eyes blazing and plasma pistol cocked in hand. He adjusted the sight so that it lined up evenly with Wellington's head.
"Ambassador, were I you, I would most definitely heed the order to release the good doctor. If not, I cannot be held responsible for the nervous twitch of my finger."
Wellington regarded the man for a long minute, trying to assess the validity of his threat. After brief consideration, he nodded and released Doppler with a harsh thrust, shoving him to the grimy wooden floor. He smiled broadly and spread his hands.
"Just a gentlemen's argument, Mr. Lightoller. Settling it with a good, old-fashioned round of fisticuffs."
"There will be no brawling of any kind, whether it is on ship or in port, Mr. Ambassador. Do I make myself clear?" Lightoller knew he was slightly overstepping his boundaries. As First Mate, he did have jurisdiction over crew and passengers, but as an Ambassador, Wellington did have considerable clout. He hoped his plasma pistol would convince the man to overlook that fact.
Apparently, it did. Wellington drew his teeth back into what could only be considered a forced grin.
"As crystal, Mr. Lightoller. Clear as crystal."
Lightoller highly doubted that and cast a wary eye in Wellington's direction to inform him of such, but nonetheless, he slightly lowered his pistol and allowed the man to pass without further comment. Turning to Doppler, he bent down and assessed the canid.
"Doctor, are you all right?" he asked, extending a hand and pulling the injured man to his feet.
"I believe I require medical attention," he muttered, gripping his fingers tightly around his bleeding arm.
"I can see that," Lightoller nodded. "Hold steady," he commanded and ripped the lower half of Delbert's sleeve. Taking the strip of material, he quickly tied a makeshift tourniquet around the wound.
"There. That should help to staunch the blood flow until we can get you to a doctor." He guided Doppler to the door and helped him through the entryway. "We'd best get back to the ship," he instructed, glancing at their surroundings in a reproving tone. "This isn't the most reputable part of town."
"So I gathered," Doppler admitted with a frown. "I didn't know this was where Wellington was headed. Obviously, I wouldn't venture to a saloon of my volition. I had absolutely the breast … um … best intentions upon entering the establishment," he quickly finished, a dull blush staining his features.
Lightoller smothered a smile with a cough. "I'm certain you did, Doctor. Watch your step," he cautioned as they stepped onto the gangplank that would lead them up to the Legacy.
"Mr. Lightoller, I'm afraid I must insist that you not mention this to the Captain," Delbert began slowly. "She has plenty of things to worry about. Things much more important than her lover ... ly, uh, crew getting in to such a small spat." He grimaced as another wave of pain shot through his arm and then offered the man a weak smile. "Don't you agree?"
The First Mate bit his bottom lip in an effort to contain his laughter. Oh but this man had an uncanny ability to perpetuate the worst slip of the tongues he'd ever been privy to. He had to have a little fun at his expense. It'd be a crime not to.
"Aye, Doctor," he agreed, once he was finally able to reply with a straight face. "Best not to have her worrying about her boy ... s on deck. She does have more important matters below deck in the berthing area, and what with her restless walking at night lately, I'd have to agree that it'd be best to keep this under wraps and focus on her staying tucked in each night." Lightoller grabbed a breath and wiped imaginary sweat from his tanned brow. "Thank goodness we've got just the right man who can keep her in bed at night right here on board the Legacy!"
Delbert's eyes grew as large as saucers and he asked with a pronounced stutter, "W… we ... d … d ... do?" He looked around frantically, while trying to maintain a casual façade and failing miserably.
"Why Doctor Dillamond, of course! Just a few drops of sleeping tonic, and I'm sure the Captain will have no difficulty in falling asleep," Lightoller grinned wickedly before casting an innocent look Doppler's way. "Why? Whom did you think I was referring to?"
"Oh … um ... well, that is … uh … no one in particular," Delbert finally shrugged and stepped onto the main deck. "No one at all." He sighed and a small smile graced his pained features. "Yes, Mr. Lightoller, I think you're right. We should let the Captain worry about more important things. No need to bother her with my minor indiscretion tonight."
"I daresay something is minor if it involves getting one's arm ripped open. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Lightoller?" The question, uttered in a low and dangerous tone, came floating from somewhere across the shrouded deck.
"Good evening, m'am," Lightoller acknowledged and took a step away from Delbert.
Amelia dipped her head to him in silent greeting and emerged from the dark shadows, her form stiff and countenance stone. Delbert took a step back and gulped. He had seen that look before. It was not good. Amelia glanced once at him and then shifted her attention to her First Mate.
"Good evening, Mr. Lightoller. Thank you for returning our wayward astrophysicist as ordered. That will be all."
"Aye, m'am."
Delbert watched with envy as the First Mate fled the deck and retired below. He felt Amelia's blistering stare bore in to the back of his head and he slowly turned, mentally girding himself for the storm to come. She was seething. Delbert recognized the low simmer boiling in the eyes he knew so well; eyes that normally only held love, and sometimes a bit of light-hearted frustration, when trained on him. But not now. Best to get this over with, he thought with a sigh.
"Captain, I can explain -"
Amelia shot up a hand. "Not one word, Doctor. I don't want to hear it. I've a good mind to finish what Wellington started," she snapped angrily. "Below decks now. Report to your quarters. Medical will be along shortly."
Delbert stood silent, amazed by the anger she was directing toward him and surprised that she knew about Wellington. He squinted and tried to gauge how much leeway he might have. He took a solid step backwards when he realized it was none.
"Aye, Captain," he acquiesced with a simple nod. "I'll report to my quarters and await medical."
"See to it then," she snapped with an angry glare. "Dismissed."