Picture a cement oil tanker painted forest green, puttering through the shallow end of the Sea of Stars on course to Mars, the Jolly Harlock flying proudly above. (Smart fabric, programmed to "billow" in chaotic patterns despite the surrounding vacuum. Trivial, really.) The Masaka is registered out of SSX Base, known to mundane astronomers as Asteroid 6565 Reiji: the spiritual home of the Pirates.
('Danes have a few cognitive dissonance problems with we fen who insist on declaring ourselves Pirates and then on behaving in a rather unpiratical fashion. Dirtside and upside, the word has very different meanings; our own biggest problem with it is that we've yet to come up with a commonly accepted substitute to apply to those scumbags who do act in the more traditional manner. I suggested "worms," but that has yet to see much use. On the other end, the worms have yet to come up with a universal alternative to the skull-and-crossbones, so we're even.)
What does it mean, to be a Pirate? It means living your entire life according to your ideals, not backing down, never compromising. It means standing up for what you believe in, and defending that which and those whom you care about, to the enemy's death or your own.
In my case... that means helping people in need, while making just enough of a profit as necessary to keep on helping. I do what I can to alleviate the suffering of 'danes and fen alike, bringing food to the colonies and water ice to India. There's no reliable three-cornered trade yet, so we live life on the edge. Which is, theoretically, where we want to be. This is the way of life we have chosen, as the great man said.
The name's Robinson, William Henry Robinson. I would have liked to be known as Wild Bill Robinson, but fannish nature and my parents have doomed me to go by "Danger Will." Could be worse.
Sleep fades, but I'm still exhausted. Only in direct snuggle with... one body, check. The shower's running. Okay, that means at least one of the girls has had enough for the moment. I may live through another day.
"All-call message on the 'net, hon," Felice says from somewhere off to the left. "It's a Con invite, at least I think that's what it says. Someone's in dire need of an ESL refresher course."
I crank my peepers open to find Eurydice's beautiful green-gold eyes looking back at me, filled with an uncomplicated love and devotion that makes me realize...
"What are you thinking about, nya?" she whispers in a soft, throaty purr that sends a tingle right through me, her upper right hand toying with my chest hair.
"...Just about how unbelievably lucky I am, darlin'." I draw her in for a kiss, her slightly rough tongue dancing with mine, and for a moment I can forget the other thought, the one I've never told her, never told any of them.
No one's this lucky. No one has any right to be this lucky. In the back of my mind I'm terrified that there's another shoe somewhere out there, and it might drop at any time.
But right now I've got a positive bank balance, a paid-off ship, a hold full of oxylichen spores and superpotatoes, and three beautiful and brilliant catgirls who love -- and are loved by -- their captain.
The other shoe can go kick itself. Goethe said it best: at the end of the journey, all men look back and think that their youth was Arcadia. Well, this is my youth, and it is as close to Arcadia as makes no difference, and I won't let a few pointless worries ruin it.
Really, I won't.
Really...
That about sums Billy's situation up: he's living the fannish dream -- in certain circles he's considered to have Won the Internet for Life -- and quietly stressed about how easily it all fell into his lap. He'll probably be a lot happier once I start throwing problems at him.![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
The girls are the result of accidental bodymodding, but with a twist -- it wasn't the "cat" part that got added. x.x; Danger Will rescued them from some rather unsavory folks and, well, stuff happened...
--Sam
"Egad! Too much anatomy!"
('Danes have a few cognitive dissonance problems with we fen who insist on declaring ourselves Pirates and then on behaving in a rather unpiratical fashion. Dirtside and upside, the word has very different meanings; our own biggest problem with it is that we've yet to come up with a commonly accepted substitute to apply to those scumbags who do act in the more traditional manner. I suggested "worms," but that has yet to see much use. On the other end, the worms have yet to come up with a universal alternative to the skull-and-crossbones, so we're even.)
What does it mean, to be a Pirate? It means living your entire life according to your ideals, not backing down, never compromising. It means standing up for what you believe in, and defending that which and those whom you care about, to the enemy's death or your own.
In my case... that means helping people in need, while making just enough of a profit as necessary to keep on helping. I do what I can to alleviate the suffering of 'danes and fen alike, bringing food to the colonies and water ice to India. There's no reliable three-cornered trade yet, so we live life on the edge. Which is, theoretically, where we want to be. This is the way of life we have chosen, as the great man said.
The name's Robinson, William Henry Robinson. I would have liked to be known as Wild Bill Robinson, but fannish nature and my parents have doomed me to go by "Danger Will." Could be worse.
Sleep fades, but I'm still exhausted. Only in direct snuggle with... one body, check. The shower's running. Okay, that means at least one of the girls has had enough for the moment. I may live through another day.
"All-call message on the 'net, hon," Felice says from somewhere off to the left. "It's a Con invite, at least I think that's what it says. Someone's in dire need of an ESL refresher course."
I crank my peepers open to find Eurydice's beautiful green-gold eyes looking back at me, filled with an uncomplicated love and devotion that makes me realize...
"What are you thinking about, nya?" she whispers in a soft, throaty purr that sends a tingle right through me, her upper right hand toying with my chest hair.
"...Just about how unbelievably lucky I am, darlin'." I draw her in for a kiss, her slightly rough tongue dancing with mine, and for a moment I can forget the other thought, the one I've never told her, never told any of them.
No one's this lucky. No one has any right to be this lucky. In the back of my mind I'm terrified that there's another shoe somewhere out there, and it might drop at any time.
But right now I've got a positive bank balance, a paid-off ship, a hold full of oxylichen spores and superpotatoes, and three beautiful and brilliant catgirls who love -- and are loved by -- their captain.
The other shoe can go kick itself. Goethe said it best: at the end of the journey, all men look back and think that their youth was Arcadia. Well, this is my youth, and it is as close to Arcadia as makes no difference, and I won't let a few pointless worries ruin it.
Really, I won't.
Really...
That about sums Billy's situation up: he's living the fannish dream -- in certain circles he's considered to have Won the Internet for Life -- and quietly stressed about how easily it all fell into his lap. He'll probably be a lot happier once I start throwing problems at him.
The girls are the result of accidental bodymodding, but with a twist -- it wasn't the "cat" part that got added. x.x; Danger Will rescued them from some rather unsavory folks and, well, stuff happened...
--Sam
"Egad! Too much anatomy!"