Arrrg. More BSG Pirate AU. Continued from the first bit.

SHIVERING THE TIMBERS OF LOVE

Chapter Two

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It's said that a man's inclination toward obeying a woman's whims increases exponentially with how often he gets to see her naked, but it appeared that once was all it took for Dualla to convince Mr. Gaeta that he'd like nothing better than to drag her enormous (and enormously heavy) trunk of clothing from the house, down through the gardens and across a good mile of sandy cove to the small boat that was waiting to take them all back to the main ship, the head injury he sustained during his visit notwithstanding.

He was even kind enough to collapse close enough to the rear of the boat to allow her not to get her shoes wet by genteelly offering his prone body as a mat of sorts, for her to daintily step onto on her way aboard. "English gentlemen are simply the finest," she said sweetly and then thought for a moment. "They are English, aren't they?" she whispered to Miss Cally, who was too busy biting her nails to the quick to answer.

Kara, on the other hand, wasn't as impressed nor would she take the arm offered by Captain Lee Adama, choosing instead to get into the boat with two clomping steps, nearly overturning it into the shallows twice. She crossed her arms and sat down hard, staring stonily back at the house, her hand never leaving her musket. She had taken extra arms along for the trip in lieu of clothing, which was all right as she was practically covered in bands of bullets, powder bags, a knife sheath and a sword sash that could almost double as a shirt.

Lady Roslin was the picture of composure, allowing the Admiral to help her aboard and spent the short trip breathing deeply of the sea air as they rowed back to the main ship, even though her sincere hope of Mrs. Tigh 'accidentally' falling overboard while scandalously perched upon Mr. Tigh's lap didn't come to pass.

Oh well, a woman couldn't have everything, she thought wistfully.

Their arrival on board was noted with some consternation and very little hooting, as the Admiral appeared to be a man his crew didn't like to cross. "Up anchor," he cried, as Lady Roslin took a station next to him at the helm. He glanced at her strangely, but as she was a woman used to standing at the right side of power, she didn't see why that had to change now.

In fact ... "Admiral, I believe we should now begin our trek across the islands to pick up the remnants of decent, law-abiding citizens who are being hounded by these pirates." Lady Laura's voice swelled, her bosom heaved, her heart was filled with righteous conviction. "We shall organize them in boats, in a fleet of sorts and led by your battleship, we shall find haven, yes, a haven far away, which I have predicted to be the sanctuary for us all. In spite of our enemies surrounding us, I prophesy that I, Lady Laura Roslin, along with you shall lead them, yes, lead them to freedom -- and peace. Let us begin!"

He didn't even turn around to look at her. "No."

Her shoulders slumped at this response. "No?"

"Absolutely not."

"To hell with it then," she said with a shrug. "Drop me off in Haiti, I have relatives there."

"Fine," he said, putting on his glasses and shaking out a large map. "We're headed that way anyway. Mr. Gaeta!"

"Yes, sir!" the young officer said, running up, his face still slightly encrusted with sand.

"I want to get the hells out of here." Adama squinted at the map. "Which is the best way to do that? I'm looking for the path of least resistance."

"Well, sir, we are surrounding by pirates, thus the name of the area, Pirates Corridor. Each pirate has his own territory," the young man began, holding up his hand and ticking off fingers one-by-one. "To the north, there is Captain Bruce, the Bloody Beheader. To the west, there's Carnak the Cannibal, who is someone we definitely don't want to run into, and then to the east is Sailor Sam the Sodomite, who runs, by all accounts, a very interesting ship, full of ..."

Adama clenched his jaw. "Mr. Gaeta. I'm not really interested in the decor of Sam the Sodomite's vessel. What lies to the south?"

"That, sir, would be the territory of Baltar the Blubberer," Gaeta said, a little sadly, as he was always curious about Sailor Sam's vessel, being a man of engineering bent. The pirate, supposedly, had an entire room filled with peacock feathers, leather whips and sealing wax, for what purpose, Gaeta could only guess at.

"Baltar the Blubberer, eh?" Adama said. He leaned in toward his son. "What do you think?"

Lee glanced around at the milling crew, most of whom were snoring fast asleep on the deck or chewing on old bits of dry meat with the few teeth they had left. "I think he's just about all we could handle."

"Very well, it's on a direct path anyway," Adama said. He raised his voice to give out the order. "We head south, gentlemen. To the waters patrolled by the pirate vessel of Baltar the Blubberer. Be on your guard!" He put his hands behind his back and stared out over the bow with extreme confidence. At this rate, he might make that Haitian vacation yet.

Behind them, Miss Thrace and Miss Cally sat quietly, with the former busy sharpening her knife blade with vicious strokes. The gathered sailors looked on with fearful curiosity as tiny steel shavings started to litter the deck, and Lee Adama watched her from a distance with both bafflement and amusement.

Miss Dualla fretted about the height of the sun which was in perfect alignment to leave freckles on her nose and she fought to place her parasol into a position most advantageous to the avoidance of this grave menace to flawless skin. Finally, she gave up and instructed Mr. Gaeta to make a tent of his jacket over her and hold it perfectly still for the next three hours, which he did without question, because ... well ... he'd seen her naked once and the hope that it might happen again was too great a possibility to ignore.

"Baltar the Blubberer," First Mate Tigh scoffed, as on his lap, Mrs. Tigh giggled into an almost empty flask. "That'll be an easy day at the guns, won't it?"

Or so they hoped.

Alas, little did anyone aboard know that Baltar the Blubberer did not work alone.

0o0o0o

It was aboard the great pirate vessel Cylonica that Long Tall Shelley Godfrey, a terrifying woman of great height and even greater strength stood searching with a tireless eye over the waters that comprised the vessel's empire.

Beside her was her companion, Fearsome Boomer, whom, while not having quite the impressive stature and bloodthirsty nature of her fellow lady pirate, was just as willing to shoot, stab and feed live lobsters to her victims as any pirate of good standing might.

The only person who didn't quite look the part was the 'captain' himself, Baltar the Blubberer, who sat crosslegged on a rum barrel, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, an air of extreme distress filling the air about him.

"This ... this pirate thing," he said, fluttering his hands and sighing continuously. "I say, it's not me. It's not what I'm all about." He shook his head in fast, repetitive motions, as if he had a wasp in his ear. "If you must know, I'm a very sensitive man. Robbing and pillaging and throwing people overboard to sharks ... it's ... uncouth. I'm just not feeling it here, you know?"

"Can I kill him now?" Boomer growled to Shelley. "Please?"

The taller woman shook her head, even as she stood at the railing, her blue hawk eyes looking straight into the sunshine without flinching. "Not now. Someday."

"Are you girls listening to me?" Baltar's voice raised a notch. "I don't like this feeling I'm getting of being ignored."

"Shut up, Gaius," Shelley intoned ominously. In the distance, a far-off glint of another vessel's sails caught her eye. "Ah ... someone's come out to play."

From beneath the red bandana covering her hair, Boomer grinned gleefully. "I love having new playmates."

"Don't we all," said Shelley sweetly, collapsing the 'scope. She strode over to Baltar and patted him on the head before beginning her long climb up the rigging to the crow's nest. "We're going to have company soon, Gaius. If you know what's good for you, you won't screw up this time."

Boomer glared at him, while meaningfully tapping her hand against the plank. Yes, that plank, the short one people were made to take a long walk off of. So tacky, Baltar thought with a sniff.

"Don't screw up," Boomer repeated, before flipping up her eyepatch to peer out over the waves. She didn't need the eyepatch, but it was always a jaunty accessory, one that the fashionable pirate often found hard to resist. "Or else."

Gaius uncrossed his legs nervously, re-crossed them and went back to puffing on his now-soggy cigarette. "Don't screw up, Gaius," he repeated mockingly. "Don't get in our way, Gaius. Shut up, Gaius." He puffed harder. "It's not as though this is MY ship, with MY name written on it and MY name on the pirate map. So you two just keep acting like I don't exist, like I have no use at all. Please. Don't let me stop you." His voice grew louder. "I said, DON'T LET ME STOP YOU."

Okay, tomorrow, I'll kill him, Shelley thought, as she swung gracefully up the ropes. Maybe.

Either way, soon, very soon, they would have much more to think about as the Galactica sailed ever closer.

0o0o0

What stupidity will our heroes encounter next? Your opinions/suggestions always welcome.