Book 1: The Rebirth of the Aztecs

Chapter 8 Part 2: Hands in the Cookie Jar

Finally the seagulls got the hint, and scattered in a million directions leaving an even grander mess than the battlefield they’d joined. Worse, the clanking heels from the deck below told Drake the antics had woken his first officer. She’d been so tired he couldn’t shake her back to the land of the living, and figured this meeting was going to be mostly inventory so Beatrice could sit this one out and recover a bit. So much for giving the lady a break.

With a burst of frazzled feminine energy a very disheveled Beatrice burst onto the deck. Of course, being disheveled for the first officer would’ve been considered a finished product for a small town man like Drake. She was in full nearly wrinkle free uniform, in this case a fetching white button up shirt and matching medium length skirt with her rank and name tag on full display for the guests, hair slightly askew, and no make up which the average man would never notice given her natural beauty. All and all there were models who looked scruffier after a month in the makeup chair. Drake had sisters growing up. He knew all the ladies were jealous, and truth be told so was her Captain now that he had to pay attention to his civilian ensembles. Back with the Royal Ranger Marines he only had to worry about keeping his dress uniform dry cleaned to perfection once a month or so. Ah, the simple life.

Beatrice took in the scene with narrowed blazing blue eyes which seemed to catch fire as those balls of flame roved over the gore smears that once were seagulls, new bullet holes to patch, and the very much contraband lued program still playing on the hologram. Chief Pisani managed to pull himself out of his barbaric state, and found the exit program button only to have fifteen add pop ups just as adult to more disturbing than the previous one consume the hologram till finally with more furious cursing the screen returned to the normal home screen full of sailboats on mountain lakes.

The meeting went silent like they were a gang of guilty teen boys caught by mom sneaking a catnip crazed squirrel into a very occupied girls locker room. The silence was deafening. The feeling of shame complete. Drake swore he saw Don hide his side arm behind his back like a toddler caught with his hands in the cookie jar. There was a reason why the pirates had taken to affectionately calling the first officer: mom, or mamacita if they were feeling cheeky. She just had that effect on men bumbling through the realms of female dominion. You didn’t break or mess up mom’s boat. Only the Captain got away with that because technically this tub was his ship, but they all knew who kept the floating mansion from disappearing under the waves.

Drake did his best not to laugh. Oh he fought mightily against his base instincts, but in the end he was only human. He let out such a wild body wrenching set of guffaws that tears formed in his eyes getting him the full ire of the woman who kept his ship in ship shape, and also happened to share his bed. All the Captain could do was pat a seat next to his lounge chair that by some miracle had survived the previous night's debauchery, and this morning’s seagull apocalypse.

Beatrice glared for a moment longer with the clear blue skies, and vast shores of Australia stretching behind her in a dazzling display like a masterpiece based of the artist exwife before serving the divorce papers in the form of a shotgun. With a snort the gorgeous blond pounded her black dress heels into the deck as she sauntered over to her Captain. 

The furious expression never leaving her face while her shirt screamed bloody murder as it tried to contain all of her femininity under all the harsh movements. Turning like a honor guard on parade Beatrice took her place next to her Captain with ramrod posture, and perfect condemnation directed at the savages who had taken over her boat. She refused to sit and instead pushed the chair back and put her hands on her shapely hips tapping one foot with more impatience than a rabbit on crack.

This was too much temptation for Drake as his lady was in striking range. Without warning or hesitation the Captain’s hand lashed out in a blur making that tush sting and eliciting a furious grunt, but nothing else. Somehow Drake managed to stop laughing in the middle of this so he could pretend to be a responsible pirate captain and whatever he was pretending to be.

“Alright, now that the first officer is awake from her beauty nap I think it’s time to stop slagging seagulls and properly start our after action report starting with inventory as mamacita over here needs to know why the dive bay is now off limits for our guests,” Drake said to the ex marines and navy Chief who were doing everything they could to look innocent, and not laugh at the exchange.

Don nodded, and with the stealth of a pachyderm in an antique shop snuck his Dash .50 into its holster under his black sports jacket he was wearing over a simple red satin shirt. Even the simple sergeant had come a long way since wealth and the tutelage of mom in the ways of high civilization. Beatrice for her part remained patiently impatient, and caught Don’s attention by nodding toward the Hologram without losing a beat in her impatient one foot tap dance routine which was becoming more distracting than the seagulls.

Pushing ahead, Sarge swiped his email to the hologram once again finally receiving the desired results of the bulky submersible troop carrier diagram appeared in high rez perfection for all to see. She was a beauty, and put that stripper hologram to shame. Made better noises when the guns went boom too.

“Thanks to the generosity of our latest benefactors we have gained possession of a XS 408 Buccaneer submersible armored personnel carrier. She fits, just barely, in our diving bay. I don’t think I have to explain why we can’t allow our guests or any potential hostile agencies or law enforcement see our new asset,” Don said each word with the efficiency of a sergeant in front of his least favorite commandant. Beatrice had a funny way of making everyone go full military even as the whole crew became more laid back with each passing day. A funny thought to say the least, but for the best. If they weren’t careful they could lose their edge and that could mean death for the crew of nerdowells. No need to become victims of their own success and get soft.

“We will inform the guests that one of their number was found to have Scarlet Covid 7 and is being quarantined in the bay for their safety. Should keep curious lookie loos to a minimum,” Beatrice said without a single crack in her stony expression,” Also, I expect to have a joy ride in this asset as soon as time permits Captain. For inspection purposes, and because I demand attention and satisfaction after the last two weeks of excessive overtime.”

Drake looked up at the sun chuckling. A date in a tank sub. Why not? They were pirates not marines after all. They could have all the fun they wanted till the long arm of the law found them on the high seas.

“Very well First Officer Momasita Beatrice, I will do my duty and take you out on our new asset as soon as time permits. Now Don, I think we need to get to the intel now that we all know what the bonus loot was this time around,” Drake said with a nod to his old Sergeant. The cloud that went over Don’s face told his Captain a story he’d rather not hear. The intel was serious business. The kind of business that not even a wild free bunch of pirates could ignore. Drake hundred down and prepared himself. Things were about to get all proper and grave on his ship again.

The Story Will Continue Every Monday

Thanks for reading! Click the image below to go to my blog so you can be updated on future projects.