same. No two are alike. Make ‘em desperate and they’ll do anything.”
“You’re saying now the war’s over, they’ll start poaching civilian vessels,” deduced the one called Bernard.
“It’s easy, even if you haven’t got a ship,” replied the one called Eriksson. “You simply sneak aboard, hide in a smuggler’s nook or cold steam vent, and wait until everyone is asleep. Then you slit their throats, or take what you want and bugger off on a longboat. Not a soul to stop you in the open sky.” He seemed engrossed in the logistics, never mind who was listening. He was right- the coffee was good and the café was busy. Not many would have bothered to hear a hypothetical from a faceless airman. Not many, but a little girl with red, red hair.
“Pirates are a noble bunch, I say,” the one called Bernard insisted stubbornly. “Descended from ancient rebels, fallen kings. It’s like there’s something bigger behind them, telling them where to go, what ships are safe to plunder. I’ll just bet there’s a band waiting to take down the Turkish trader two towers over.”
If the table across from them were not then vacant save an empty coffee cup, the little girl might have devoted herself to the study of criminal psychology, from men who watched safe beside the front lines. But she had heard enough.
Kitty Desperado, having spent her time in the service of the state opening doors and delivering painful messages, was preparing to apply herself the only way she could conceive: as her namesake, a master thief.
“You have no idea how attractive Captain Albion looked with his goggles, and his dashing coat, and those dimples…” Kitty was saying to me, later on the top deck of the Berry . I harrumphed, as if the idea of Albion’s dimples didn’t make me go a soft one inside.
Kitty was standing in the longboat, packages of supplies and basic tools at her feet. I suppose Albion felt somewhat responsible for the hiccup at the Hook , and some sympathy for her plight. He would not throw her to the winds, as she had been all her life. It might have explained what he did next, as well.
Albion grabbed both sides of Kitty’s face, and looking deep into her eyes, bent down to kiss her, eyes closed, drinking deep like he was going through a vintage Bordeaux. I looked away for a good twenty seconds, after which he let go with a slight pop.
“Kitty Desperado, you are a beautiful femme fatale, and a damn good thief. I am hopelessly infatuated with you, but I am afraid this would never work. You’re just too good for a dirty, deceptive pirate player like me. You should find someone better, someone with a lot more to give. Farewell, Kitty! Think fondly of me!”
He put a boot on the longboat and kicked, sending it drifting gently away, elephant bobbing overhead.
“I’ll always remember you!” Kitty called across the widening gulf.
“Oh, and another thing! That Captain Samuel you were looking for? I heard he was laying low in the Mediterranean! Look for him there!”
We stayed there a long time, until a drift of cloud covered Kitty’s pink, open features and muffled her voice.
“Well that’s that,” Alby remarked, turning to go back into the bridge.
“Just like that?” I protested. Sure, I had been a little jealous, and the sort of relationship the girl wanted was illegal in most of the civilized world, but Kitty had real feelings for Albion. It was just a little romantic, if I took myself out of the equation: a master thief with the heart of a nubile, falling in love with a hardened pirate, Albion wasn’t immune to such fanciful things, or we would be a
“You’re saying now the war’s over, they’ll start poaching civilian vessels,” deduced the one called Bernard.
“It’s easy, even if you haven’t got a ship,” replied the one called Eriksson. “You simply sneak aboard, hide in a smuggler’s nook or cold steam vent, and wait until everyone is asleep. Then you slit their throats, or take what you want and bugger off on a longboat. Not a soul to stop you in the open sky.” He seemed engrossed in the logistics, never mind who was listening. He was right- the coffee was good and the café was busy. Not many would have bothered to hear a hypothetical from a faceless airman. Not many, but a little girl with red, red hair.
“Pirates are a noble bunch, I say,” the one called Bernard insisted stubbornly. “Descended from ancient rebels, fallen kings. It’s like there’s something bigger behind them, telling them where to go, what ships are safe to plunder. I’ll just bet there’s a band waiting to take down the Turkish trader two towers over.”
If the table across from them were not then vacant save an empty coffee cup, the little girl might have devoted herself to the study of criminal psychology, from men who watched safe beside the front lines. But she had heard enough.
Kitty Desperado, having spent her time in the service of the state opening doors and delivering painful messages, was preparing to apply herself the only way she could conceive: as her namesake, a master thief.
“You have no idea how attractive Captain Albion looked with his goggles, and his dashing coat, and those dimples…” Kitty was saying to me, later on the top deck of the Berry . I harrumphed, as if the idea of Albion’s dimples didn’t make me go a soft one inside.
Kitty was standing in the longboat, packages of supplies and basic tools at her feet. I suppose Albion felt somewhat responsible for the hiccup at the Hook , and some sympathy for her plight. He would not throw her to the winds, as she had been all her life. It might have explained what he did next, as well.
Albion grabbed both sides of Kitty’s face, and looking deep into her eyes, bent down to kiss her, eyes closed, drinking deep like he was going through a vintage Bordeaux. I looked away for a good twenty seconds, after which he let go with a slight pop.
“Kitty Desperado, you are a beautiful femme fatale, and a damn good thief. I am hopelessly infatuated with you, but I am afraid this would never work. You’re just too good for a dirty, deceptive pirate player like me. You should find someone better, someone with a lot more to give. Farewell, Kitty! Think fondly of me!”
He put a boot on the longboat and kicked, sending it drifting gently away, elephant bobbing overhead.
“I’ll always remember you!” Kitty called across the widening gulf.
“Oh, and another thing! That Captain Samuel you were looking for? I heard he was laying low in the Mediterranean! Look for him there!”
We stayed there a long time, until a drift of cloud covered Kitty’s pink, open features and muffled her voice.
“Well that’s that,” Alby remarked, turning to go back into the bridge.
“Just like that?” I protested. Sure, I had been a little jealous, and the sort of relationship the girl wanted was illegal in most of the civilized world, but Kitty had real feelings for Albion. It was just a little romantic, if I took myself out of the equation: a master thief with the heart of a nubile, falling in love with a hardened pirate, Albion wasn’t immune to such fanciful things, or we would be a
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