Sal awoke slowly, then jerked up with a start. What the-? Where was she?
The room was small, devoid of anything but her and the beaten mattress and bed frame she lay on. The naked light bulb above her did a poor job of illuminating the small enclosure, but at least she could see. She sat up slowly, peering curiously at her wounds. They'd been treated and bandaged. But why?
She looked to the door at the end of the room. Solid steel. A small round porthole - barred, of course - was nestled in the door at eye level, but a heavy steel plate had been swung shut over it. So, that's what this was. A cell. Of course.
But why put her in a cell, she wondered. What was Karnage planning? He'd had the chance to kill her back in the hangar bay. Perhaps he wanted her to walk the plank? She'd heard he did that occasionally, but such a fate was reserved for traitors or the unfortunate schmucks that managed to tick the captain off while they were his prisoners. The Pirate Code clearly stated that rival captains were to be dispatched in battle, not by the plank. She pondered it for a bit more, then turned her thoughts to other things.
She leaned back, gazing up at the bulb and running through the day's events for the umpteenth time. She shook her head sadly. Today had been an ever-increasing string of disasters, and she'd rather not think of how it was bound to end. Instead, she thought back to her friends, her crew, and wondered how they were doing.
She, Scat, Dixie, Meg, and Hazel liked to think they'd grown up together. In truth, they hadn't, but the wanderers had crossed paths enough in their teens to consider it the same thing. Patch and Ears had joined them a year ago, and now they, too, seemed like family. She hoped they were all right.
****************************
Steeling herself for what was coming, Scat charged, slamming into her target full-force and slashing it as she recovered.
For her bone-jarring efforts, the door received a few more dents and a handful of claw marks. She staggered backward, glaring at the thickly barred steel door. Didn't anyone believe in wooden doors anymore?!? She returned to the back of the cell, falling into a runner's crouch.
****************************
Meg winced as the reverberating thunk of Scat's impact echoed down the hallway. She walked up to the cell door, wrapping her hands around its bars.
"Scat! Knock it off before you give yourself a concussion!" she yelled across to her crewmate.
"No! I'm gonna get out of here, and when I do, I'm gonna slice that bastard to ribbons! Yeeaaaaaaaarg!!" Another crash. From her spot at the bars of the cell, Meg watched as the tan cat bounced off the metal bars yet again.
She turned back to the rest of the crew. "We've got to get out of here before she beats herself to a pulp," she sighed.
"You're the one that knows your way around here, Meg," Patch replied from her perch by the air vent, "You think of something."
"Almost there..." a voice echoed from the vent, "almost ther-aaaaaaaaa!"
A skittering noise echoed from the vent, followed by a thud as a dust-covered Dixie fell from the vent. "Damn!" she cursed, "I almost made it that time!"
"What's up there?" Ears queried.
"Thirty feet straight up of nothing but sheet metal, but then it braches off. If we could get up there, we'd be home free!"
"Except that if you can't get up there, we certainly won't be able to," Meg sighed. Dixie was the best climber among them, but an hour's worth of climbing hadn't gotten them any closer to freedom than her first try had. "We need to think of something else."
"Floor's steel, so that rules out digging," Patch muttered, "And there aren't any guards around to lure close enough to grab the keys. So where's that leave us?"
"The vent," Dixie sighed, climbing back into the rusty shaft.
A reverberating crash sounded from the adjacent cell. Scat again.
"What do you think our chances of picking that lock are?" Hazel ventured, working her head and shoulders between the bars to get a better look. Lacking anything but her claws, she began to fiddle with the lock on their door.
Ears looked around the cell, searching for a suitable pick. Sure, it was probably hopeless, but still....wait a minute. "Meg, you still have your hairpin?"
A look of surprise crossed the Siamese's face, replaced by a sly grin as she removed the slim pin from her hair, sending her dark, braided locks cascading down her back. Hazel blinked in surprise for a minute before grinning deviously and setting to work with the improvised lock-pick.
****************************
"Hey, Navy!" a voice called. Alex sighed. Wasn't there someone else she could bother?
"I'm busy Rox. Working. You know what that is?"She scowled at him. "You're tinkering around with that group's recon bird. That hardly constitutes working. Plus, it doesn't preclude you from conversation, does it?"
"What d'ya want, Roxy?"
"Your opinion."
"Get your own."
Roxy reached down and toggled a setting on the Albatross' control board. Beside her, Alex yelped in pain as a previously quiet channel now blasted through the headphones he wore. Switching the noise off, she smiled over at him. "What was that again?"
"All right, all right, I'm listening."
"What do you think the Cap'n'll do with them?"
"That's it? That's what you blasted my eardrums for?!?"
"No, I blasted your eardrums because you were being rude. This is what I want your opinion on."
Alex sighed. This fox was impossible. "He let their leader live, right?" Roxy nodded. "Then he's not letting them go. He'll either kill them or keep them locked up. Or," he thought for a minute, "he might be considering recruiting them. They're able enough pilots and fighters, and sparing their leader might earn their gratitude, if not their loyalty. Problem is, their captain herself said they're not very obedient. The Cap'n's not about to take on anyone that'll cause trouble."
"So, if you were a betting man..."
The leopard thought for a minute, looking about the newly-acquired recon plane. The customization and maintenance on it was astounding, really, despite the fact that she was still badly in need of repair. It'd be nice to have more people competent enough to do complex repairs around - not to mention the fun that could be had in mock-dogfights with that crew. "I'd hope he lets them join up. And I think he wants them, or he wouldn't've spared the fox. That move makes no sense otherwise."
Roxy nodded. "Precisely what I was thinking."
"I'll just bet," Alex muttered. "Now, can I get back to work?"
The vixen laughed. Bowing mockingly, she turned and strode out of the aircraft.
****************************
In the viewing lounge above the bridge of the Iron Vulture, Don Karnage paced.
He couldn't decide which course of action to take. On the one hand, they would add skill and intelligence to a crew that, sadly, had very little of their own. That was the problem with most pirates - they either had the combined IQ of a turnip, or they were ignorant fools that could care less about thinking, as long as they got their money. These seven, however, were as capable as they were clever.
He'd cornered Roxy a few hours ago, demanding a full run-down on the small band. The vixen knew much more about them than she'd let on, from their greatest exploits to member qualifications. Not only had the group raided an active base to acquire the fighters they flew, but they were continually sacking naval intelligence birds - which certainly explained the quality of their radar gear. They also stuck to trade routes no other pirates frequented - and, Roxy had added sheepishly, the reason she had sought him out instead of them was that the Iron Vulture was ever so much easier to locate than this band.
Most of the band's members had extensive flight training, according to Roxy; many had been flight instructors, cargo pilots, barnstormers, or air show entertainers before signing up. That was certainly more than his crew could boast - a great deal of them were nothing more than street thugs that had received a 'crash course' in flying somewhere along the way. And while street thugs by definition knew how to fight, the crew in the brig had demonstrated varying levels of competency in a variety of different fighting techniques, most of which appeared to be the results of intense - and professional - training.
Truth be told, in many ways, these seven women were superior to much of his crew - they were intelligent, skilled, and reasonably well-trained. He'd defeated them by numbers and numbers alone - and if the others hadn't returned for their captain, they'd still be free. He could use loyalty like that. Most of his men would turn their backs on him in an instant if they thought they could get away with it. Hell, some had even tried.
On the other hand, that loyalty was directed at their captain, not him. There was the risk of them abandoning the crew or even mutinying. And he'd had his fair share of mutineers already - he didn't want, much less need, any more. The same went for runaways - no one, it seemed, was content with simply abandoning the Vulture - no, they always took - or tried to take - some plunder with them. And those that got away with stealing from him not only undermined his authority and reputation - the chief things keeping thoughts of mutiny out of others' minds - but also necessitated at least a token effort to track them down and kill them. No, he didn't want anyone on his crew that wasn't loyal to him. True, if he could turn their leader, those risks all but vanished - and if he spared her life, he'd earn the gratitude of her crewmates. And gratitude, along with the respect it carried, could and would turn to loyalty in time - if he could turn their leader. But could she be turned?
He paused, a scene from their swordfight replaying in his mind. 'You're not attacking.' 'No. That was never my intent.' Hmm. That had puzzled him. Throughout the fight, she hadn't attacked him - not even in response to his attacks - only defended. Even when he'd overstepped a bit, leaving himself vulnerable for attack, she'd retreated. He had thought this was merely a result of her injuries - perhaps she was too wounded to attack properly - or due to a lack of skill.
But, he reminded himself, there was the dagger. He'd hardly noticed it during the fight - not until she slashed at him, the only time she had attacked, and then only to try to aid her crew. In truth, he couldn't say if it had been the attack or the dagger itself that had caught him by surprise. But as soon as he'd seen it, something she'd been doing throughout the fight had clicked into place. Every time he'd lunged at her, or overstepped, or left himself open in even the slightest, her left hand had started to close over her belt -
- No. Over her dagger. Oh, she knew howw to swordfight, all right. Knew that in a true fight, a follow-up dagger could actually be more dangerous, and do more damage, than the swords themselves. And she was accustomed to using it, or her hand wouldn't have drifted to it out of habit. No, had she truly been fighting back, attacking instead of merely defending, she wouldn't have been the only one with a nasty gash in their side. But she hadn't fought back. Hadn't want to fight him, despite the consequences.
That was significant, a little voice told him.
And what was it that hysterical feline had said about her captain? That she'd tried to stay out of his way? If that were true, them it certainly spoke highly of the kit fox. He hated it when others poached in his territory, and the fact that these women passed over highly desirable targets to avoid doing this pleased him. It was a show of respect. And, judging from the cat's confession, it was the fox that was the source of that respect.
Which would go a long way in explaining why she wouldn't fight you, the voice pointed out.
Hmm. Perhaps she could be trusted...
****************************
Sal sat on the floor of her cell, left leg tucked to her side, right drawn close to her, with her arms folded over it and her head resting between them, eyes staring off into space. Her leg was a little better - it had been splinted properly, now, and she could walk on it a little. But she had tired of pacing hours ago, so now she just sat, pondering her fate. And listening to the stillness. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been able to hear the ocean, and this deep in the Vulture, she couldn't even hear the whine of the airship's engines. It was all so very, very quiet.
Or it had been. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the latch on her door turned with an audible click. So. Her time had come. She rose to her feet.
But the door swung open not to reveal a troop of guards, but a lone figure. Karnage. He gave her a short bow, stepping aside and waving her to the corridor.
"Come," he said simply.
She cocked her head, puzzled. Well, what choice did she really have? Warily, she followed him into the corridor.
"How's the leg?" he inquired.
She eyed him suspiciously. "I can walk without falling."
"Good. Let's walk, then. I'd like to talk with you."
"About anything in particular?"
"Your crew."
"Let them go."
Ah, still trying for their freedom. "I'd rather not. They'd only come back for you, or to avenge you."
She shot him a mischievous smile. "Then let me go."
"No," he grinned wryly, "I'd rather not do that either. I have the reputation of a bloodthirsty pirate to uphold."
She frowned. "Then we're at an impasse."
"Not entirely. How would you rate your crew?"
A puzzled frown. What was he getting at? "I...don't know. They're a good crew. A little rough around the edges, and a bit foolhardy, but that's what makes us pirates, I guess.
"Meg's a decent strategist and an exceptional fighter. Dixie's an excellent pilot and an even better decoy, and Patch has no fear when it comes to far-fetched stunts. Hazel's a great mechanic, and Ears is good with gadgets - although she tends to nap on duty. Scat...is, well...passionate about her work. She lives for the adventure, and she has a tendency to ignore orders. But the others usually keep her in line. Why?"
He ignored her question. "What about you?"
"Me?" She cocked an eyebrow, her gaze questioning. "I just pointed them in the direction of their prey, and tried to keep them out of danger. Came up with some pretty interesting maneuvers on a few occasions - you'll have to get Dixie to show you. We're too small to use most of them now, but with enough planes, they can be rather impressive. Or confusing. Depends on whether you're the observer or the target.
"Other than that, my job was simple - choose a target and then sell the booty to a buyer. I was reasonably good at that....It was the keeping them safe part that always got me. You remember, a few months back, when the Usland navy shot at anything flying without a military escort?"
"Si. They were after you, yes-no?"
She grinned at that. "Yes and no. Mostly they were just after Scat. Seems one night she scrawled something rather unflattering about an admiral onto the naval vessel he was traveling in."
He laughed. "That I had not heard."
They walked in silence for a bit. Sal silently wished she knew more of the Vulture's layout. They weren't circling, which meant they were going somewhere...but she didn't know where. And Karnage, at the moment, was confusing her.
"So," she sighed, "What's to become of us, then?"
"That is up to yourself. You're good - you and your crew could be quite useful. Without you, however, your crew is a threat. Your choice."
"That was the nice version of the 'join me or die' speech, wasn't it?" she remarked wryly, a devious glint in her eyes.
He scowled, and she became serious. Join them? If it was truly an offer, it was a tempting one. No more sleeping in a crammed cockpit, bobbing in the ocean under an open sky (which had an awful tendency to rain...). No more dodging the authorities - well, less of it, anyway. The Vulture seldom came under attack by anybody. Moreover, it would not only put the responsibility of selecting and researching targets on other shoulders - it also meant not having to worry about whether or not anyone else would be going after that target. And the opportunity to work with a group of like-minded individuals (even if most of them were dull-witted) would give her crew someone besides each other to interact with.
"Do you mean it?" she asked after a pause, "You'd let us join?"
"I would not be saying something I was not meaning," he shrugged.
"We'd be treated with the same amount of respect as the rest of the crew?"
"With the same amount of respect as the rest of the intelligent members of the crew."
"And we would be permitted to defend ourselves if we weren't, yes?"
He caught her meaning that time. "Si. Although I doubt any of the crew would give you trouble. They learned their lesson with Roxy."
A look of confusion washed over her features before she placed the reference. Ah, yes, the vixen that had headed the line that held her crew back during the fight. If anything, the pirates had scrambled out of her way. She smiled. "In that case, I accept your offer, Captain."
"Then welcome aboard." He shook the hand she offered.
A playful smile spread across her face. "So, does this mean I can have my sword back?"
He laughed. "Si. Come."
****************************
Alex raced down the winding corridor, searching. The fastest pirate aboard, these sorts of missions were somehow always assigned to him. "Captain!" he yelled.
Further down the corridor, Don Karnage paused, turning toward the sound. Sal pricked hers ears this way and that, trying to determine which direction the voice was coming from.
"Captain!" it yelled again. Left, she decided. Maybe.
"Three halls ahead and one to your right, Alex," Karnage called back.
"How did you..."
He shrugged. "A captain knows every inch of his ship, yes-no? Including how it echoes."
A moment later, the young leopard that had caught Scat earlier sprinted around the corner, skidding to a stop before them. He started to speak, but paused, noticing Sal for the first time, and looked questioningly at his captain, who merely motioned for him to speak.
"Sir, we've got a, uh, 'situation' in the brig." He glanced at her again.
She smirked. "Scat get out?"
He frowned. "She the one with the hair?" A nod. "No. But the rest of them are loose."
It was Sal's turn to frown now. "Hazel probably picked the lock, then. Have they killed anyone yet?"
Alex shook his head. Only on a pirate ship, he told himself, could that question be asked with that degree of casualness.
"Then we should hurry up and get there before they do, right, Captain?"
"Right," Karnage agreed, darting down the corridor with the two of them in tow.
Alex sprinted to catch up to his captain. "Uh, Sir, am I missing something here?"
"Probably, Alex. But you're a bright boy, you'll figure it out eventually."
****************************
"Hurry up, Hazel!" Scat yelled through the bars of her cell, "We gotta get out of here!"
"Well, if someone hadn't slammed into the door so many times that the lock bent, this'd be a lot easier!" the ebony feline hissed at her, vainly trying to coax the broken lock open with Meg's pin.
Up ahead, Meg, Patch, Dixie, and Ears held the door. Well, not really. The door hung open, dangling from broken hinges. But the group stood in the doorway, steadfastly repelling the pirates that tried to fight their way past it. Which was all well and good, but that doorway was also their only obvious way out of the brig, and more pirates were arriving by the minute. They were going to have a hard time getting out as it was - but if they didn't get Scat's door unlocked soon, they'd have a hard time just holding the pirates at bay.
Cursing, Hazel removed the pin and started again. Growing desperate, Scat darted over to the horizontal opening food trays would be passed through, took some simple measurements, and began cramming herself through. And, as with most attempts of this nature, she made it about halfway through before she got stuck.
****************************
Don Karnage slowed as he neared the brig. No point in appearing all disheveled and out of breath before the crew. It was undignified, and he would have no part in that. Besides, the crew would have enough to say already when they saw who was behind him.
Sal stumbled to a walk. I really shouldn't be running on this leg, she told herself, following Karnage into the mass of pirates gathered in front of the brig entrance.
They were surprised to see her, to say the least. Most just gawked in disbelief, looking to their captain for explanation, but a good amount of pointing and whispering swept through the crowd. Nonetheless, the crowd parted, and she followed the captain to the doorway.
****************************
Inside the brig, the Tigercats exchanged worried glances as the crowd of pirates fell silent and backed away. In their experience, that meant one thing. The captain had arrived.
They broke ranks and ran further into the brig, clustering around Hazel and desperately trying to pull Scat free. The more they pulled, however, the more the tan cat screeched in pain. Their combined strength did manage to overwhelm the broken lock, however, and the door swung open, sending them all sprawling to the floor as it mocked them. Not to be beaten, they wedged the door open and started pushing the cat back through the opening - but with little luck. Scat was really and truly stuck.
And their time had run out. Ears squeaked in alarm as Karnage strode through the door. Every feline member hissed and dropped into a fighting stance - including Scat, who was still struggling to pry herself out of the door.
Those reactions, however, paled in contrast to the ones when the next figure walked through the door.
****************************
"SAL!!!"
"You're alive!"
"You're not dead!"
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"Sal!...Um, I could use some help here..."
Always the cool-headed one, Meg was the first to figure it out. There was, after all, only one logical explanation for why their captain stood - alive, unchained, and calm - next to Karnage. And that was simply that there was only one captain standing before them. "You joined them, didn't you?"
Sal nodded. "I saw no reason not to. Better lodgings, better maintenance, better planes, better prey. Better company - or at least more fliers to play with. Besides," she shrugged, "it was the only way any of us'd ever see the sun again."
"Of course," Karnage cut in, sword in hand, "if any of you have a problem with that..."
That was more than enough encouragement for them. Despite their tendency to disobey orders, the Tigercats nonetheless were accustomed to trusting Sal's judgment. If their captain said joining Karnage's crew was the best thing to do, then, well...why not? It wasn't as if they'd be taking a pay cut - if anything, their earnings should increase, as maintenance costs became less of an issue - and Sal wouldn't have agreed to it if it meant having to put up with anything drastic. And...it was the only way any of them could see out of their current situation - the odds of them clawing their way through hundreds of armed pirates, finding the hangar, and spiriting away planes were, after all, somewhere between slim and none. Which made the decision rather unanimous.
"Problem? Us?"
"No problems here!"
"Nope, no problems!"
"None whatsoever!"
"Um...I have a problem..." Scat whimpered, straining against the door. To her credit, she'd managed to pull herself most of the way out - but her shoulder blades held her fast.
From his post leaning against the doorframe, Alex grinned. "I think I can help you there," he volunteered, striding up to the group. Those that could shrank away - they might be shipmates now, but that didn't mean they trusted the leopard - while Scat eyed him warily from her rather undignified perch.
"I'm not so sure I want your help," she told him.
"All the same, you're getting it," he countered, pulling her forward a bit before shoving her left shoulder back through the opening. She yowled in pain, swiping at him with her free hand before realizing the only thing stuck now was her head. Ducking out of the cell door, the feline rubbed her shoulder painfully.
"Um...thanks, I guess," she mumbled.
"Hey, no problem. That's what crewmates are for."
****************************
Six weeks later.
The panther pilot scowled at the aviatrix as she flew by again, her white fur billowing in the wind. Oh, sure, the cat was pretty, but her plane was a battered old mess - all patched up and scratched.
"Hey! This is the last time I'm tellin' ya, lady, beat it! We're busy workin' here!"
"That's okay, handsome!" She radioed back, "I'm workin' too!"
She circled around, in front of the convoy this time, pulling her turn tight and flying straight for the overloaded trimotors, which dodged away to avoid her as she streaked past them.
That was the last straw! The panther thought, breaking formation and motioning for his wingman to follow suit. Time someone taught her some respect!
As soon as the escort broke away to pursue her, Dixie toggled her radio to another frequency. "Hey, Mother Hen! The cat is out of the bag!"
"That's Mother Goose!" Karnage yelled.
"Whatever, Cap. At any rate, the cats're away, so the mice are free to play!"
In the triwing CT's cockpit, Karnage grimaced. The newcomers still needed to work on their grasp of the Vulture's secret codes. But, they had slowly lured the entire escort away, leaving the transports undefended.
The trimotor pilots weren't stupid, however, and had immediately separated when the last of their escorts dove after the newest 'threat'. The planes were newer, faster models, and with the delay from when the escorts broke off to when they were out of visual range, they were now quite far apart from each other.
Two months ago, Don Karnage would've been faced with having to choose which shipment he wanted more - the diamonds, or the collection of rare ancient Panda-La artifacts. Now, however, with the Albatross monitoring the radar and the Vulture jamming the commercial radio frequencies, he not only knew where both were, but where anyone that could help them was, as well. And, more importantly, he already had groups of CT's positioned ahead of the trimotors' projected paths, guided there by the Albatross. He radioed Sal and Alex, ordering the attack, then brought his plane to the second trimotor's heading.
He'd given Sal the diamond shipment, mostly because he knew the attack on the art shipment would attract more attention, and he wanted everyone to know that he, Don Karnage, Prince of Pirates, had been the one to seize it.
That, plus he didn't trust Alex near all that fragile art. For all his and skill in handling and repairing delicate technology, the leopard was a clutz when it came to non-technological objects.
Fin.